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palmtreesx3 · 8 months

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Deeper for You

Summary: (5.1 k) It's your annual beach trip with the crew from Hawkins, something you've all been doing together your whole adult life after life forced everyone to part ways. You're all close, but this year, an accidental encounter in the outdoor shower makes you get a little closer with one person in particular.

This is self indulgence at its finest. Fresh off my last week at the beach this summer, I needed a little Beach Steve in my life to tide me over.

Steve x Reader, NSFW 18+ Accidental exposure, friends to lovers, breast play, female oral, fingering, dirty talk encouraged, a little orgasm denial, maybe a spank and unprotected intercourse in the shower.

Crystal water. Crystal skies. Beach chairs circled around umbrellas and coolers. Crisp beers slipped in aging koozies and passed around like old times. You and your friends have been doing this for years. Ever since goals and lives and even some wives have taken the group here and there, Nancy started organizing this annual beach trip for the group from Hawkins. Years and miles have nothing on deep seeded trauma, she said once, in a too cheerful voice despite it's truth.

The heat of the sand between your toes and the smell of suntan lotion have become a comfort to you, just knowing you're back there with your closest friends. As you all creep closer to thirty than you'd like, this week never fails to make you feel nostalgic, youthful and forget all of your problems because it never feels like an ounce of time has passed with any of these people.

This year Nancy had to upgrade the rental - more rooms for yet another married couple in the mix, Eddie adding a wife - a little too sweet but just enough sass for him - into the fold. It was your first time meeting her, really meeting her, because no bride has the time for new friendship on their wedding weekend, and you've had such a nice week spending time with her. Chairs in the sand by the waterline together with a book most afternoons, leaving the raucous energy that comes after some morning beers as background noise to your fantasies.

"What are you two ladies reading over here anyway" Steve pokes at your shoulder on his way down to the water to cool off.

"They're fantasy novels, Steve. Naughty books, if you must know." You tease back, Eddies wife blushing beside you at your brazen honestly.

"Naughty books? Like love stories where they kiss and share a bed?"

"No Steve, like '... And then she felt the tips of his finger circle her clit before toying with her folds and the wetness pooling between her thighs. Edging her, pulling her closer but never giving her cunt what she really wants'" you read in an exaggerated and breathy voice direct from your page, picking up right where you left off. "That, Steve, is Naughty Books. "

"Shit. Okay. Well I'll leave you two to it, then. What the fuck." and he trots off into the waves. Sunkissed skin a perfect contrast to the white, foaming waves he's now floating in.

"So, that… you guys have a thing before or something?" Eddie's wife asks softly. So sweet, you can't even be mad at her for it.

"Steve?" You laugh, "No-no no. Just go way back "

"Oh I'm so sorry" she squeaks out, "I just thought… I mean you guys. Nevermind."

"Don't worry about it. We're all a little too close for comfort sometimes. I get it. We just have always gave each other shit as long as I've known him, that's all."

Later that night, the whole group gathers in the back of the house around a huge built in fire pit, all taking turns sharing, giving updates about life and work and families.

Late nights have been happening all week around this pit, but tonight is cool, and the Sangria Robin and Max mixed up is keeping you chilled.

"Hey, honey. You finally quit or do you want to join us over here?" Steve calls over to you, beckoning to the group of smokers over on the bench seat to the left of the fire.

"Every time I try… someone like you offers me a smoke and here I am again." You shrug as you lean over to snag the pack of cigarettes from Steve's outstretched hand before taking a seat. You slide out a slim cigarette and pull the lighter from it's spot in the back, lighting up and passing it back, kicking your feet out on the coffee table in front.

"Someone like Steve, what's that supposed to mean? You hurling insults again?" Johnathan teases.

"No, no. Byers, shut the fuck up. Lemme enjoy this sweet nicotine with my friends in peace, okay?" You roll your eyes, not actually knowing what you meant either, before shooting a look at Max sitting with the group. "Since when did you sit on the smokers bench? Huh?"

"Don't start with me mom. You've tried to quit four times a year for the past 10 years, so I don't even wanna hear it from you." The redhead sasses back.

Such a beautiful, self assured young women she's grown into, despite having such poor eyesight from…everything that happened…you have always had a soft spot for Max, and she for you. The glasses she wears are thick, despite years of corrective surgeries, but they don't take an ounce away from how lovely she's grown to be.

"Yeah yeah, just shut up and enjoy it. I bet Lucas hates it. Doesn't he? Goodie two shoes." You quip back and Max giggles in agreement, both of you taking a long drag as a follow up.

"You two man-eaters are trouble." Steve jabs.

"Excuse me, man-eaters? The one who has been dating the same guy since middle school and me, who goes on what, maybe 4 dates all year? Yeah total man-eaters, Steve."

After finishing your smokes, you all rejoin the group, playing dollar games of cards and dice, laughing the night away at bad luck and bad jokes. El has been banished to watching over participating and when Eddie's wife asks why, the mutters and mumbling of a wide variety of excuses poured out.

"It's uh - against her religion!" straight from Dustin's mouth won out, mostly because it was the loudest. So now you're all pretending El is Muslim, and that's definitely not going to last the rest of the week.

It's nearing two am as you pad up the stairs, pockets 10 dollars deeper, sand still clinging to your feet just barely and Steve's button up on your shoulders from when he passed it to you to quell your chill. Just like every other night of the trip, you sleep like a baby, tucked in a soft mattress with softer sheets and the blanket of a decent buzz still coursing through your bloodstream.

The next day is the last on the shore and after a late start and breakfast cooked up by Nancy and Johnathan to sop up the hangovers the day goes on much like the rest before it. Relaxing in beach chairs and blankets, music softly humming from a boom box in the shade of the umbrella, balls being tossed in a friendly game of touch football in the loose sand by the dunes.

The tide was rough today and swept you and Eddie's girl away on your chairs once before you slipped your books back in your beach bag and decided if you can't beat it, join it. Frolicking in the waves together, the rest of the group is shortly behind you joining in.

It's not five minutes until Eddie is tackling his wife into the crashing waves, rolling her dramatically in the lapping waves and sand. Max and El are jumping through crashing waves, hand in hand trying to make it past the crest and to where it is calm. Some of the boys are sitting in the sand watching and enjoying the cool breeze you catch when you're closer to the sea.

You, well, you were enjoying yourself wholeheartedly. That is until you're making your way back to shore and a huge wave creeps up behind you and slams you to the ground. Water currents tossing you around a bit like a ragdoll, it's a moment before strong arms pull you up and out, wiping your hair out of your face and brushing the wet globs of sand off you as you regroup. It's Steve who's got you and brings you back to shore, where you flop down on the sand together and burst out in laughter after you're both sure that you're alright, making it even harder to catch your breath.

The day at the beach was way more sandy than usual because of it all, sitting in the sand, being thrown around by gritty waves and soupy sand finding it's way intermingling with your bathing suit. You just can't wait till the end of the day to shower and hose off, so you dip away to hop in the rinse shower along the side of the property. Door swung shut, you run the water cold so it's as refreshing as it is a welcome rinse to your body where the sand is sticking and scratches.

Hair slicked back by the cool droplets, you're realizing quickly that a simple rinse won't rid your swimsuit of all of the caked in sand. Maneuvering your emerald green one piece to shake free the grit of the ocean, you're making progress as you drop your wide set straps off your shoulders and start working out the sand from your upper half.

It's just then that Steve must have had the same idea, and he's traipsing through the door of the shower himself, only to find you, strap down, left breast fully exposed, tan lines of your right crisp and leaving nothing to the imagination the way the suit is bunching down, and your hands coaxing the water over them from the low pressure showerhead to work off the sand.

"Holy fuck!" You both yell at the same time.

Yours an exclamation. A "Holy FUCK!" A barked out reaction to the surprise. The admonishment of your friend who doesn't seem to pay a goddamn mind to anything going on around him or he would have heard the shower tap on and running when he approached.

But his… Well, his was a statement. A "Holy. Fuck." Drawn out. A deep and gravely comment made to acknowledge the surprise he's found. More of an interest than an intrusion.

So when you reached to cover yourself and hide from embarrassment as a knee jerk reaction, he didn't make quite as quick a move to leave you be. He lingered, just enough for you to notice and under his breath whispered out again "Holy fuck."

Adequately covered, or at least enough that you can feel functional at this point, you look at him to quip "Are you just gonna stare or what?" And you expect him to snap out of his titty haze and leave you be to shake out the rest of your sand trap, but he doesn't.

Instead he asks, "Well, is that an invitation?"

Your eyes narrow at him, and he shrugs in reaction. "You can't be serious, Steve. Get outta here."

"I save you, and this is the thanks I get?" He teases, and you can't help but see how his eyes, blown out and black, don't move from your body when he says it.

"Steve." You say, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I can thank you later." comes out just above a whisper.

"I think I'd rather you thanked me now."

When you don't argue back, or say anything for that matter, he takes that as enough of an answer as he needs. He knows you, and he knows that you have no problem telling someone to take a hike, so if you're not yelling at him like he's a small boy who got his hand caught in the cookie jar, he knows you're inviting him to take a bite.

So he's inside the shower quicker than your mind can even catch up to what's happening. He's crowding your space and reaching backwards to do the one thing you forgot to do yourself, hook the damn lock. You're pretty sure this man hasn't moved his eyes from you since the moment the door opened and at this point, you're meeting his gaze.

A sweeping hand, under your ear and landing on the nape of your neck is what shakes you out of your daze and before you know it his lips are on yours. It's a bruising thing, the way he presses them into yours, pulling you closer still by where his hand is cupping your head with his broad hand. You come up for air just a second before he backs off and you find yourself, open mouthed and smiling into his lips, still pressing into you. "Fuck. Honey. I- you okay? With this? I don't wanna… "

"I know I tell you this all the time, but this is different. Steve, you fuckin talk too much. Shut. Up." You say, emphasizing your words with two little tugs to his own hair where your hands have snaked around, too.

And he takes this welcome advance as an opportunity to wrap his other hand around you, up and under your arm, resting at the center of your back. Pressing together, you're so close. Impossibly so, and every little tick of the hip or twitch of the lips can be felt by the other instantaneously. He's testing you out but getting bolder by the second when he experimentally rolls his hips just a bit before coaxing your legs a bit wider to slot his knee in between. You gasp out at the feeling of him against you and involuntarily find yourself rolling your cunt against his thigh.

"Ah-oh fuck. Shit. Steve." You squeak out, as you look down to see that he's tucked up his swim shorts high enough that your grinding on his exposed thigh. Bristly hair on his legs commingling with the scratch of the sand and sea salt on your own thighs.

"C'mon, honey. You came in here to get clean. Me too. Lemme help you, yeah? '

Nodding your permission, he gently slips his fingers under the still loose straps of your suit, coaxing them down further, fingers ghosting over your arms as he works them down.

You've been doing this trip for years, and you swear the last thing you ever thought would happen was having Steve fucking Harrington peeling off your wet swimsuit in the shower. "You sandy all over, huh? Me too. Gotta rinse you off." he says, as he's reaching up for the shower head, detaching it from its base and bringing it down in between the two of your chests. Holding it there for a moment, he seems to consider this whole thing for the first time. "You-your good, right? I mean, I trust you. Do you trust me? "

"Yeah Steve, I do." You say, pressing your forehead to his and blinking away droplets gathering on your eyelashes.

He pulls the rest of your swimsuit away from where it's suctioned on your tummy and works it down your body, dropping heavy and wet on the shower floor. Once it's out of his way, he's back on your lips, sucking in your bottom lip just as you feel the cool water hitting your clit. Steve moves the shower head gently but purposely around your whole cunt, paying attention to your sensitive bud between passes through your folds. "Gotta get you cleaned up, huh? Need you clean for me. For what I'm gonna do next." He teases and you moan at his words.

Not exactly sure what he has planned just yet, you let him keep working your pussy clean and with every second of the pulsing jets of water hitting your clit rhythmically. "Yeah, baby I think you're all set." He states, replacing the shower head where it belongs and reaching his free hand down to rub through your folds, checking to be sure you're comfortable and free of that pesky sand.

When he's met with yet another whimper he's immediately dropping to his knees on the wet planks of the shower floor "Can I please, please taste you. Please."

"I didn't take you as one to beg, Harrington." You whisper out the tease.

"I will for this - for you. God, would you just answer me?"

You look down at him and nod but he wants your words instead, commanding you to speak up. And so you do, you gasp out confirmation just as his lips latch on to your already sensitive clit. He suckles there a little bit, before moving to make his tongue wide and flat coaxing noises from you that he doesn't want to forget the sound of.

He throws your thigh over his shoulder, giving him deeper, more angled access to your cunt, working you, moving it in and left to right. You cry out as his nose nudges at your clit while he slips a finger in up to his second knuckle and the cry turns silent as he keeps up his ministrations. Droplets of water are tickling down your chest and stomach, soaking his hair and face where he stays tucked in between your thighs. He shakes his head back and forth tapping at your clit with his movement and making you see stars.

Adding in another finger, he keeps lapping at your pussy, taking breaks to nip at the place where your thighs meet your sex and back again. He licks off a trail of water along the seam of your leg before making his way back to your center. Scissoring his fingers, he groans right into you and the vibration of it all drives you wild. "God, you fuckin taste like heaven. So good." And he dives back in, running his wide tongue along your entrance, drawing it front and upward toward your clit.

This time he pauses and presses his tongue up into the base of your clit, holding it there just as he presses both long fingers up and into your spongy spot, freeing the most wanton sound yet from deep within your throat. It spurs him on to keep going, pulsing that tongue and stroking that spot within. You're tensing and shaking under his strong grip and soft tongue, leg still hiked high over him, water cascading around the both of you. You're tumbling over the edge quickly after that.

In a bit of a daze and with wobbly knees, you swing your leg back down off his shoulder and bring him up towards you by his ears, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue in ways you never have before, and he looks beautiful like that. Eyes wide and wanton, hair dripping wet down his hair spattered chest, jaw slack in his own lust and pleasure, lips a deep pink and swollen from working you up down there. You bring him up fully to meet your lips and groan into his mouth, your taste heady and salty and beachy.

"I think you're clean" he laughs out as he pulls back just slightly and you can't help but bark out a laugh back. He takes the opportunity to latch on to your neck and bites at the skin under your ear.

In that moment you decide you're not done with him.

Tugging at the ties of his swim trunks, Steve pulls back to look at you. "N-no, we don't have to."

You hear his words but you also feel the hardness underneath those trunks, "Steve, it's - it's no big deal. You started this. Let me… let's finish, yeah?" You eye him teasingly, eyebrows raised, "Something tells me you want to."

"You're a menace, you know that right? Always have been."

"Yeah, but you're into it, apparently." you stand on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"Fuck. Fuck. Yeah." He gets out as you lick the water droplets up "Seeing you here every year. Highlight of my trip. Swear to God."

And as his soaked trunks hit the floor, the pair of you are both fully exposed standing under the running water together. Running your hand along his chest, playing with the tufts of hair there, you hook your finger though the thin chain hanging from his neck and pull him closer. "Steve." You whisper into his mouth.

"Yeah, whaddya need, honey?"

"You. God just, please fuck me. Okay?"

Clutching you close by the waist, he hikes your leg up and around his hip, reaching down along your ass to rub at your pussy from behind, working you up again. Almost teasing. The rock hard length of him is pressed up between your two tummies, begging to be paid attention to, so you break your bodies apart for just a second to angle him down, slipping if wetly between your lower lips - a mix of water and your hot dripping slick letting him slip through your folds.

A whimper slips out of your lips as his head catches your clit and he takes the opportunity to press into you, sounds something like a growl falling from his own lips at the feeling. Your mind is going blank, but the one thing you're sure of is that Steve Harrington's dick is huge. "Ohmigod, you're, bi- oh" you moan as he adds another few inches, moving slowly for you. "Fuck, you're huge. Jesus, Steve."

"Yeah? Biggest you ever had? God, tell me it's the biggest you've ever took."

"Shit" you hiss, as he bottoms out inside you, yelping out as you both finally meet at the base. "Yeah, shit. No one's ever been that fuckin deep, Steve. Holy shit."

"Fuck, yeah. I'm gonna move now, okay? You're good, right?" And you nod, enthusiastically. Almost too enthusiastically.

You've known Steve almost your whole life. You've played on playground swing sets growing up, rolled your eyes at his antics at your friends' parties in high school, cheered him on at basketball games and worked alongside him as lifeguards at the country club pool. You give him shit, he gives it back to you. You share comfortable silences and close friends. He's had your back in the face of monsters and raging fires… But right now, all that's on your mind is how he's pounding into your pussy in this shower and why this has never ever happened before in all these years. Because Jesus Christ, it's feeling euphoric.

The slapping of skin echoes loudly in the wooden and metal enclosure of the shower, bodies slick with water , hands gliding along your back and along your ass, keeping that knee hiked high for him, yours clutching the front of his shoulders and digging crescent moons into his skin. He's making noises, has he thrusts up into you at a bruising pace, hitting your cervix and making you cry out…but he's holding back all the same and all you want is him to let go a little more.

"Fuck, wait. Holy shit. Lemme just… " you drop your leg down and hear his small whine as he slips out of you, but you're quick to flip your body around, leaning forward and bracing yourself on the beams of the wooden door frame, shaking your ass at him in an invitation to get close to you again. "Wait. Wait… " you gasp out as you feel his tip nudge against your entrance from behind.

"What's wrong? Are you .. are you okay? I can stop." He gets out through heaving breaths.

"No. I'm good… but if you wanna finish me off, you gotta do one thing for me." Looking over your shoulder, giving him a playful but serious look.

"What'dya need. Honey. Anything. What do you want?" He holds his cock, pulsing and screaming to be let back inside your warm and velvety walls, dots of precome rinsed off by the droplets of water as fast as they emerge.

"Don't hold back. Just… .let me hear you. I wanna hear you. Talk to me. Don't shut up. And fuck - fuck me harder" you hiccup out.

"Yeah, yeah okay. I'll … I'll - fuck" he pushes in fully in one slide, no resistance from you in the least. "You wanna hear how good you make me feel huh? Always so cocky. Jesus."

His fingers are pressing into the tops of your thighs, purple mottled marks already blooming there under his fingertips as he pulls you backwards, spearing you on his cock, meeting him thrust for thrust. His other hand is wrapped around your waist, reaching for the soft of your belly, snaking up your chest until he finds your tits, nipples peaked with the chill of the air now that you're not directly under the stream of water. He runs his thumb along your nipples, giving them a playful flick back and forth before massaging them and pulling you up to meet him, back to chest.

In this position, you can drop yourself down as you meet his upward thrusts, bouncing on his cock and you feel his tip nudging a particular spot inside you that makes your walls constrict. "Oh honey, yeah? That's it. That's the spot isn't it?" And you can tell that has Steve's mind going off the deep end, making good on his promises to let you hear him, he's babbling, water splashing and raining down on you both, his grunts getting louder, and your name slipping off his lips in a whisper, like it belongs there.

Reaching back and around his neck, you turn so that you can see him and tilt his down to meet your gaze. Mouths both open, panting into one another, lips touching but never connecting because you can't quite sync up with the way you're both grinding on each other. "Jesus Christ, hnng fuck, I'm gonna… honey. Where do you want me? C'mon. Tell me."

You hear his sharp intake of a breath and feel his lips latch on to your throat, leaving sloppy kisses and sucking a bruise into it that you know you'll have to explain to your friends later. "Nnn-no. No. Not yet. I told you, lemme hear you. You're holding back I can tell."

"Oh-okay yeah. Gimme a sec. " He breathes through his nose taking in the scent of whatever vanilla soap you were using before he barreled in, maybe a little coconut still left over from your sunscreen, too. He exhales as his hand drifts down your front, settling over your mound and expertly finding your clit once again. He's rubbing figure eights, before sliding it between his two fingers, giving it pressure and pull from the sides as he continues to thrust into you from behind, bouncing you with very little effort because of how wet and slick you are from the shower.

"You're a fuckin' piece of work, you know that. Shit - taking me like this… fuck. " He growls out as he bends you forward fully now, holding you up by your chest as he rams into you. Leaning over just enough to get close to your ear he whispers in "Ya gonna let me come now? Fuck - ya gonna let me put it on your back? Huh? Your tits? Where do you wanna have it, honey?" He hisses as you grind your hips backwards and clench down hard on his shaft, squeezing on him and making his thrusts slow down, become more meticulous, more purposeful.

You're gasping in air and squeaking out noises of all kinds in time with his thrusts, telling him just how good he's making you feel between breaths. Just how deep he is hitting you. Just how much you wanna hear him when he comes. He's huffing out breaths and promising you things like next time as he's incoherently babbling praises at you as you ride back on his dick.

"You like when I talk about coming for you? You wanna have it, yeah?"

"Y-yeah I wanna. Inside. Do it inside, fuck!" You shout out, water from the showerhead beating on your back as his thrusts are jolting you forward where you're braced against the door. The janky little rusted metal latch holding on for dear life as he continues his pace, chasing his high and praying to God you let go with him.

He's feeling bold now that his brain is only chasing your orgasms. He groans the loudest moan you've heard from him this whole time as you feel him tense behind you, keeping up his movements but, just barely. His hips are stuttering and his hand falls down on your ass in a loud smack. "Ohhh shit. Honey. Yeah. That's what I'm talking about."

Your walls give him one last squeeze and you grip him tight, legs shaking under you as your orgasms rushes over your whole body. He has to hold you up as it rolls through your body, flashes going off behind your eyes as you cry out with pleasure. The pain from the smack to your ass being washed away with the cool of the water trickling over you.

It takes him only three firm thrusts more to fill you up, stuttering sounds falling from his lips. Incoherent blabbers and praises and gasps of your name spurting out along with his come.

You're both absolutely breathless, heaving chests and deep sighs filling the air while still connected to one another. Steve pulls you up slowly as he slips out of you, and spins you around. Still cradling your body and wrapping you into him, he pulls you both under the water to rinse off and come back down from wherever you both are floating off to right now. As you stand there swaying under the cascade, he brings his lips to your temple with a kiss as he mutters "I did mean it. I love seeing you here every year."

You hum along with him, because you do love seeing him too. You just never thought about it like this before. And now that you have, you're pretty sure it's the only way you can from here on out.

"We should probably get back down to the beach. I'm sure at least one of those nosey dipshits have noticed were both missing by now." Steve says against your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. But you are the one explaining these marks you left on me. I'm not saying a peep."

"Aw, c'mon sweetheart. You had a lot to say when I was in-"

"Stop that right now. If you wanna even think about doing this again, you're gonna stop right now." You roll your eyes at him while wrapping yourself with a towel and unlatching the door. As you back out and start up towards the house to grab a new swimsuit, he sees the grin on your face.

"Yeah, okay honey. Shutting my mouth now...so I'll definitely see ya later, then." He says with a wink, just as the door shuts and your left naked, wrapped up in Steve Harrington's towel with all your friends gathered round the grill out back making lunch watching you as you make your way around the path.

Eddie snarls a wide grin at you as he brings both thumbs up, his wife slapping his chest when she notices. "Hey Nance!" He yells out. "I think Harrington's got himself a new roommate for next trip!"

#joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #Spotify

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 8 months

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imagine a jealous bucky

The sound of the waves crowded Bucky’s brain, mind circling as he focused on the scene painted in front of him. He sat, toes dug into the sand, guarding him from something he wasn’t sure of. Was it envy? He hoped not, but he sensed it – the burning green haze clouding his thoughts. He watched, sullen, as Clint grabbed you by waist. He pulled you from a large uninviting wave and when you screamed in delight, Bucky looked down at his covered feet. Clint was a married man, what was he doing with his hands all over you. What were you doing looking so wonderful under the sun?

He hated this feeling.

“Seaweed.”

Steve towered over Bucky, hands on his hips as he looked out to the ocean. Bucky said nothing, but grimaced when his friend explained he was as green as a seaward. “You do know nothings going on with those two? He could be her uncle…”

“I could be her great-grandfather, what’s your point.”

This made Steve laugh and he promptly sat next to his friend. He examined the look on Bucky’s face before watching Clint and you. The pair of you were like children, most times he had to rein you in, especially on missions. Neither of you swayed from the other, always having the other’s back – even if they were wrong. Bucky didn’t seem to understand that Clint and you were bonded, connected through years of missions and week-long stakeouts. For a long time, it had been just Clint and you. He had never seen anything but platonic love.

“…his kids think of her as their aunt.”

No words could simmer jealously running through his veins; he knew the truth, deep down he knew he could never be good enough for you. It didn’t matter if nothing was going on between the archer and you – he knew there wasn’t anything there, but still…

The water came to your waist, hand blocking the sun in your eyes as you watched Clint dive into the water. Your eyes squinted waiting for him to pop back up and when he did, you joined him deeper in the ocean. He reached out and grabbed you by the forearm, pulling you to his side. Floating next to him, you stared out toward the base of the beach. Bucky was sitting with Steve, the two shirtless and stunning but the dark-haired man was the one focused on. So smoldering, so lovely.

“Down dog.” Clint teased, closing his eyes when you splashed water at him. He wiped his face and laughed. “Two sick little puppies, Jesus, get a room.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” you muttered, eyes zeroing on Bucky. It seemed in that moment; he met your gaze and all you could manage was a dorky wave. “Smooth.” Ignoring Clint, you started back toward the sand, and he didn’t bother calling for you – instead, he enjoyed the sun on his face as he floated along. Bucky watched as you approached, his heart racing as he glanced over the swimsuit you wore. He tried not to agonize over how gorgeous you looked.

“Enjoying the water?”

“I need a break.”

Bucky patted the spot next to him on the blanket and Steve quickly made an excuse to grab some drinks from the beverage stand. You asked for two cokes, one for Clint, and the flinch in Bucky’s face didn’t go unnoticed as you sat beside him. You had never known Bucky for being the jealous type, but you recognized envy when you saw it. Plopping down, your bare shoulders pressed against his and when you leaned into it, Bucky just smiled at you.

“I’m glad we got some time off, I needed this.”

“Looked like you were having fun…”

“Yeah, Clint knows how to handle the waves really nicely.” Hiding a smile, you watched for Bucky’s reaction and nearly died at the narrowness in his eyes. Oh, if looks could kill – Barton would be a dead man ten times over. Deciding not to push too far, you touched Bucky’s thigh. He glanced over at you with a dazed expression that you could paint a million times in your mind. His eyes softer as they laid upon you; skin hot from the sun – he was perfect. “Let’s go in the water…please.”

The last word, tender and quiet, broke Bucky; he knew then, that he would do anything for you. He smiled, getting up and lending out a hand. Taking it, you rose to your feet and started toward the water. He watched, taking in the moment before jogging to catch up. You led him away from where Clint and you had been, waddling in the water backwards. Beckoning him to hurry; Bucky laughed, rushing into the cold water to catch up to you. He lost his balance, stubbing his toe on a rock as the water reached his waist. Stumbling forward, he fell into the water, and you laughed. Quickly, you swam to where he went under, pulling him up from under his arms. His metal arm glistened in the water as he took a breath of air, laughing at the mishap. His back pressed against your chest, as you held him up; hands slipping around his chest. Unable to control your laughter, you ended up losing balance as well – the two of you tumbling back into the ocean.

This time Bucky had you in his arms in seconds, holding you up as he stood on his feet. His arms were wrapped around your waist, keeping you afloat as your big toe could barely touch the bottom of the ocean. Cracking up, you gave in to Bucky’s strength. “Just hold on to me, I’m too tired.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling your back firmly against his chest. “That’s fine by me.”

Relaxing with the back of your head on his shoulder, you quietly asked if he was jealous of Clint. He answered with a quick yes. You rotated yourself in his arms to face him. Bucky’s face was inches from yours, relaxed as you slipped both arms around his neck. The sound of the waves rang in his ears, going silent when you told him that there was no need to be.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Those words, he had waited so long to hear but he still felt an inch of guilt. He sighed, looking away before shaking his head. “You deserve better than me.”

‘Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed much to Bucky’s surprise. He was speechless when you grabbed him by the chin, looking directly into his wonderous eyes. “Never in my life have I ever let a man dictate what I need or deserve. I want you and that’s that. I always get what I want, understood?”

His stoic expression urged for an add on. “Only if you want me back, I would like things to be mutually beneficial.”

Letting his chin go, you waited for a response. A second later, you snapped. “An answer would be nice, preferably before the sun goes down…”

Finally, Bucky broke out into a smile. “Are you always going to be this bossy?”

Teasing little shit.

Yanking him by the neck, you leaned into his body; his arms around your waist, holding you up against the simmered waves. Your lips pressed against his and if the ocean decided to take the two of you away – Bucky Barnes would die a happy man.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader

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roosterforme · 1 month

Text

Covering the Classics Part 3 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna finally agrees to meet her new friends at the bar, she learns pretty quickly that the hot guy from the bookstore is actually Bob Floyd. But the fact that she ran and hid from him, thinking she'd never have to see him again, leaves her feeling mortified, and Bob is left to draw his own conclusions.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Anna took a deep breath as she swiped on some mascara and found her tube of lipgloss. She finally caved and agreed to go to the Navy bar that her friends couldn't stop talking about at lunch every day. She only had about five dollars in her wallet to buy a drink since she sold her car for rent money. She couldn't believe was going to take an Uber all the way to Coronado just to make an absolute fool of herself in front of this Bob character. And worst of all, she was still thinking about the hot guy with glasses from the bookstore.

"It's okay," she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "At least you're absolutely killing it at work. And you're having a good hair day." She dabbed at her lips, but skipped the concealer. Kevin used to love it when she covered up her freckles which made her never want to do it ever again. Every time she thought about him, her heart skipped a beat, but not in the fun way.

She counted to five and said, "Kevin isn't here." Then she put her makeup away and made sure her computer was plugged in so she could mess around online when she inevitably returned to her miniscule apartment within the next hour and a half. "Let's get this show on the road," she muttered.

The ride to the bar was uneventful, as she was sure the rest of her evening would be as well. Bob sounded like an absolute dream when Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics talked about him. Anna couldn't imagine him being outright rude to her after the two of them said he was sweet and had perfect manners, but she could already tell what his reaction would be: a kind but forced laugh, and maybe a halfhearted smile. And then Anna would probably get to watch him pick up a different girl instead if she didn't leave right away with her proverbial tail between her legs.

Maybe she should have stayed home.

"Here we are," the driver said as he pulled into a beachside parking lot as the sun started setting over the ocean. "The Hard Deck."

"That was quick," she murmured, wishing she could stay in the solitude of this backseat a bit longer as she climbed out. "Thanks."

The fact that every day in San Diego was warm and beautiful was going to take some getting used to. The weather almost never wavered here unlike back at home. Anna opened the weather app on her phone and scrolled to her saved location in New Jersey, and sure enough, it was raining there. She nibbled on her lip and checked her work email, dragging the toe of her beat up sneaker on the gavel parking lot.

She was just stalling now, wondering if her friends would even notice if she didn't show up. They just met her two weeks ago; they probably didn't even really like her that much. Her thumb hovered over her rideshare app as she thought about the two other women just going about their business like normal if she never went back to the weird tree at lunchtime. She was inconsequential to their day.

Anna pressed her lips together and tapped the app. There was a car two minutes away, but the guilt of having wasted eighteen dollars to come here in the first place was eating away at her mind. "Damn it," she whispered as she closed out of the app and shoved her phone into the pocket of her snug jeans. She started walking up to the sand covered wood planks that led to the entrance of the bar, and she didn't stop until she was inside.

Slow Ride was blaring from the sound system, and the place was pretty packed. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust so she could get the lay of the land, and when she did, she realized she was surrounded by mostly men. "Great," she mumbled, earning a few looks, probably because she had barely taken a step beyond the entryway before freezing up.

But as Anna made her way closer to the bar, a big guy in a khaki uniform winked at her and called out, "Hey, Red!"

She felt her cheeks warm up which was certainly not going to help with that nickname. "Oh no." Deftly, she squeezed her way through the many bodies until she had one hand resting on the bar. Why were all these men so attractive? And why were they looking at her?

When a different guy next to her turned and saw her, he stuck out his hand and said, "Hey, I'm Jackson."

"Anna," she replied, slipping her smaller hand into his very briefly before trying to take a step back. But she just ended up bumping into someone else.

"You gotta let me buy you a drink," Jackson told her with a grin. "Seriously. You're already the best part of my night."

Anna swallowed as she looked around for her friends, but she didn't see either of them. "Um... not yet. I'm not a big drinker."

Jackson laughed merrily. "Aww, honey. You came to the wrong place. Hey, Penny!" Anna watched the bartender turn around with her hands full of two martini glasses. "Can you get this one anything she wants on my tab?"

Penny laughed, and said, "You'll have to get in line, Jackson. You're number four on her roster already."

"Damn it!" Jackson complained with a laugh.

Anna's eyes went wide as Penny delivered the two drinks and then came back and leaned on the bar right in front of her. "By the looks of things, you won't have to pay for a single drink all night. So what'll it be?"

Penny had friendly looking eyes that made Anna feel a little more comfortable. "A ginger ale?"

"Coming right up," Penny replied, reaching for a pint glass and the soda dispenser gun without looking away. "I've never seen you in here before, so I feel like it's only fair to warn you that these guys can get a little relentless."

That was literally the last thing Anna wanted to hear right now. Even Jackson hadn't moved an inch away from her, and her hands were starting to sweat as the ginger ale came gliding across the bar. When she wrapped her hand around the cold glass, she told Penny, "I'm actually supposed to meet some friends here. But I don't see them?"

She smiled and said, "Give me a name."

Anna looked down into the bubbles of her drink and muttered, "Jessica Reed?"

The response was immediate but kind. "By the pool table. Where she always is. Oh, and do not challenge her to a game, because she will kick your ass."

Anna laughed as she picked up her drink. "Thank you so much. And um... could you thank whomever paid for my ginger ale?"

Penny nodded as Anna started to head for the pool table. Jackson pouted at her, and the big guy in the uniform called out, "Come back, Red!" She ignored both of them as she fought her way through the crowd, desperately trying not to spill her drink on anyone. There were a lot more khaki uniforms and even some one piece jumpsuit type things that had patches sewn onto them. She read a few of the patches as she got closer to the pool table. Harvard. Omaha. Halo. Those were some weird names.

"There she is. Anna!"

She turned her head when she heard her name, and she saw Jessica waving one hand in the air as she juggled a beer and a pool cue in the other. Jessica actually looked happy to see her as she stood there, all wrapped up in the arms of a guy that Anna couldn't fully see yet. And then her other friend was waving both hands in the air, too, so she waved back. "Hi."

Both women squealed, "Hi, Anna!" in unison, and it was honestly one of the nicest sounds Anna had heard in recent memory. She already felt better about being here now, and that's when she caught sight of who she assumed was Jake. And she was momentarily struck dumb.

The blonde man kissed the side of Jessica's neck and whispered something before releasing her, and then his green eyes met Anna's as he smiled. She decided immediately that he looked like a GQ model, and that was actually pretty fitting for what would pair well with Jessica.

"Hey," Jessica said, reaching for her hand and pulling her closer. "This is my boyfriend, Jake." She gestured over her shoulder to the GQ model who reached his hand out.

"Hi, Anna," he said with a southern drawl. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh. Same," she replied, biting her tongue before she told him she'd never heard of a man who was sweet enough to pack his girlfriend fancy sandwiches and also had the nerve to look like he belonged on a magazine cover.

"And that's Bradley," Jessica said mildly.

"My god," she whispered to herself. Her other friend was wrapped up in a pair of thick arms that belonged to a man with a mustache and alluring scars that ran along his left cheek and down the side of his neck into his floral shirt collar. He was every bit as good looking as Jake, but he had dark hair and eyes and looked decidedly a little bit rougher around the edges.

She blushed as she remembered the comment about how he and his wife liked to use math as foreplay in the bedroom. Right now, he kept pulling his wife closer for another hug and kiss while she playfully tried to escape his grasp, and Anna had to look away, because a flash of jealousy hit her like a brick.

"Hey, Anna," came Bradley's gravelly voice as he finally released his wife, and she shook his hand as well. "Sugar told me you're from New Jersey."

Sugar? Anna was definitely beat red in the face now. "That's right."

He laughed and reached out again for a fist bump. "Way better than all these west coast losers," he said over his shoulder, earning a middle finger from another seriously good looking guy.

"Stop trying to make her think you're cool, Beer Boy," his wife told him with an eye roll before he turned away to talk to the other guy.

The problem was, Anna already thought they were all devastatingly cool, and now she was standing here like an awkward fifth wheel. "Do you want a beer?" Jessica asked with a smile. "They have Sam Adams."

Anna didn't want to tell her about the scant five dollars in her pocket, and she also didn't want to have to thank one of the random guys who told Penny they wanted to buy her a drink, so she just shook her head.

Then her other friend said, "Well Bob is up at the bar right now. You just missed him, actually." She was smirking as she added, "He's probably getting himself a ginger ale, but if you want a beer or something else, he'd be happy to get it for you."

She made like she was about to call out his name when Jessica said, "Bob also likes ginger ale. And the bookstore in North Park."

Anna met her eyes before turning and craning her neck. "He does?" she asked softly, thinking about those pretty eyes and wire rimmed glasses and the smell of tea leaves. And then she saw him. He was here! "Oh," she gasped. He was Bob?

---------------------------

"Thanks, Penny," Bob said as he accepted his drink. Two of the guys at the bar were talking about a cute redhead, and all he could think about was the girl from the bookshop who decided after probably four minutes and seventeen seconds that she didn't want to talk to him anymore. He wanted to look around for this mysterious, new redhead, because if he was being honest, that was something he really thought was pretty, but what was the point? She was probably already over trying to talk to Bradley or Jake or Mickey.

Yesterday, Bradley told him to start wearing his uniform to the bar if he wanted more girls to talk to him, but Bob wasn't that desperate. He still had this fantasy where he met the girl of his dreams kind of organically. But maybe wearing a Dungeons & Dragons shirt wasn't the best thing he could have paired with his jeans tonight. Jake took one look at it thirty minutes ago and told him to go home and change into something else.

"Your girlfriend likes it," Bob had told him with a smirk, and sure enough a minute later Jessica was making a fuss over it.

But now he was making his way back to the pool table where the two couples were most likely on the verge of being indecent. Seriously, if Bob had to watch Bradshaw's hands all over his wife's rear end for one more minute, he was going to scream.

Then he saw her, and he nearly dropped his glass of ginger ale on the floor. It was the girl from the North Park bookstore. Red hair, brown eyes, freckles, kissable lips. She was looking back at him in disbelief.

Oh my god. He was hallucinating. He must be. Jessica was talking to the redhead who wasn't paying an ounce of attention to her, because she was focused on Bob. Her lips curled into a smile, and he thought he'd better make sure. When he glanced to his left and then his right, he didn't see anyone else who could be on the receiving end of that smile besides him.

"Bob!" called Bradshaw's wife. "Come meet Anna!"

Anna. That was the name of their new friend from the university. They talked about her all the time even though they just met her. They told him he would like her. But this was the girl who wanted that horrible Vonnegut book last weekend. This was the girl Mickey thought he imagined.

Apparently he hadn't stopped walking, because now he was right in front of the three women, and he had three pairs of wide eyes trained on his face. "I remember you," he said softly. "From the classics section." Her lips parted softly, and her pupils went wide as Bob asked, "Are you Anna?"

She nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink beneath her freckles. He almost groaned, because she was so much cuter in person than what his memory supplied. Nothing about her was flashy, which he almost preferred, but there was no way she wasn't the hot girl that those guys at the bar were talking about.

"I am," she replied. "And you're Bob?"

He glanced at the other two women, wondering what exactly they told her about him. They looked like they were both holding their breath as he held out his hand and said, "I'm Bob Floyd. It's nice to meet you. Again."

"I'm Anna Webber." She bit her lip, a look of embarrassment overtaking her features as she shook his hand gently. Then he remembered that she ditched him last weekend, leaving nothing but the book he'd already devoured in her place like some sort of parting gift. He released her hand abruptly and cleared his throat.

Now she looked a little hurt, but he didn't know what to say. He ran his fingers through his hair, his nerves getting worse by the second as the other two women practically vibrated with excitement on either side of Anna. "Uh, thanks for that book recommendation. I loved it," he said, barely meeting Anna's pretty eyes.

She gasped and asked, "You read it? You actually read it?"

Bob was trying to formulate another coherent response, but the urge to walk out of the bar was very strong. He was already embarrassed right now, and then he heard Mickey's voice as his friend walked over. "Holy shit, she does have red hair and brown eyes."

Mickey seemed to capture Anna's attention for the time being which really grated on Bob's nerves. Nat would never do this to him, and he couldn't wait until she got home from being deployed. Then Bradshaw's wife was in his personal space along with Jessica. "So she was the girl? From the store in North Park?" she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"The one you had instant chemistry with?" Jessica added hopefully.

Bob swallowed hard. "Yeah," he murmured. "It was Anna. But the two of you need to knock it off now, because it's probably not going to happen. There's just something about me that doesn't translate well. She kind of ditched me at the bookstore."

"What do you mean?" Jessica practically shrieked, and Bob had to hush her. "You're perfect for each other!"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting his awkwardness wash over him. "I don't know, Jess."

When he opened his eyes again, Anna was looking at him while she talked to Mickey, and Bob knew it would take even longer to get over the mystery woman now.

--------------------------

Anna couldn't believe Bob was the mystery man from the bookstore. Their chance meeting read like a piece of poetry that had no business being in her life, but the fact that she was meeting him for the second time felt something like fate. And she didn't like it. Not one bit.

He was so handsome, just like Jake and Bradley. Now Anna was wondering what they fed these men in the Navy, because Mickey was very good looking as well. But the more she spoke to him, the more irritated Bob seemed. And she didn't like how his brow was pinching above his glasses. Not compared to the way he'd looked at her in the bookstore.

Her mind was a mess right now. And then she remembered that she actually ran and hid from Bob last time she saw him. She started to panic and look around, silently coming up with an escape route, but it was too late.

"Let's play pool?" Jessica asked a bit cautiously, and that was when Anna fully pieced it all together. Her new friends from work were going to think she wasn't attracted to Bob, but that couldn't have been further from the truth right now. Frankly she didn't know what she should do, so she followed everyone over to the pool table.

Well, everyone except for Bob. He remained at the bar alone, and she couldn't really blame him for not wanting to talk to her after the stunt she pulled in the bookstore. But she was only trying to protect herself. Maybe she could explain that to him.

She was trying to decide if she would have hid from the most attractive man who had given her the time of day in years if she knew it was actually Bob. That's when she set down her empty glass of ginger ale because she was being handed a pool cue and told to team up with Bradley. She went through the motions, playing as well as she could while she chatted with everyone, but she found herself hoping to catch Bob's pretty eyes looking at her. Once she lost and handed the cue to Jessica, she saw him heading her way, and he had a glass of ginger ale in each hand.

"Anna," he said softly in that voice that left her shivering. She took the drink he offered her and tried to act normal, but she was still so startled by what he said earlier.

"Did you really read A Room with a View?" she asked quickly before she lost the nerve.

Bob smiled softly and met her eyes briefly before glancing at the floor. "Every word of it."

She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Kevin never once read any of the novels she suggested for him, preferring modern horror monstrosities instead. And then he went and actually turned her life into a horrific monstrosity which she should have probably seen coming. But right here in front of her was Bob who she had actually already met and formed a pitiful crush on, and she couldn't bring herself to say more than, "I'm happy you read it."

He was blushing now as he sipped his own ginger ale before saying, "Yeah, it was great. I wouldn't mind some more of your book recommendations, honestly. As long as you don't try to get me to read that Vonnegut."

"Cat's Cradle," she said with a laugh that had his gaze snapping back up to hers. His eyes were hopeful as she smiled at him, but she rubbed her hand along her forehead and said, "I'm sorry I... vanished. The other day."

"What happened? I told Mickey I needed a minute, and you were just gone."

She wanted to be honest with him, but she didn't know how to explain herself. And now she was starting to feel like she and Bob were in a fishbowl; so many pairs of eyes were looking their way with next to no subtlety. She cleared her throat and decided to avoid his question. "Have you read any Jane Austen?"

He looked a bit disappointed by her response, but he said, "I have not."

"I think you'd enjoy Persuasion. Or Northanger Abbey. What about Virginia Woolf?"

Bob shook his head. "I feel like I'm about to embarrass myself again like I did last weekend at the bookstore, but no, I haven't read either."

Anna practically moaned at his bashful expression and pink cheeks. He smelled so good, it was unbelievable. Why did she feel so drawn to him? Why couldn't she stop herself from taking a step closer when he muttered, "As soon as you said you knew what Cat's Cradle was about, I figured I was in way over my head. The classics kind of elude me. I'm actually more of a poetry buff."

"Poetry?" she gasped, heart pounding at an overwhelming rate as he swirled his glass of ginger ale around with nonchalance. As if he hadn't just said the sexiest thing any man had ever told her.

"Are the two of you just going to stand here and play footsie all night?"

Anna looked up to see Jake with a smirk on his face right in front of her. She didn't even notice anyone else in her vicinity before he spoke. Bob was shaking his head and already taking a step away from her when she asked, "Do you want me to text you some more recommendations?"

Bob froze and turned to look at her with a soft smile. "That'd be great." When she handed him her unlocked phone, he quickly added his number before handing it back to her. His calloused fingers felt even more exhilarating this time, which was very bad, because she'd already been thinking about the way he accidentally touched her at the bookstore on repeat.

"I'll send you some of my ideas," she muttered, pocketing her phone again before allowing Jake to pull her away toward the pool table again. She tried her best not to let her attention return to Bob over and over again, but she mostly failed. Sure enough, after a while, she saw another woman break the perimeter of the pool table and make a beeline toward Bradley before eventually turning toward Bob.

She was really pretty with shiny brown hair, and it made Anna uncomfortable when she touched Bob's arm. It wasn't fair. He was so lovely and soft spoken and handsome. He was even wearing a shirt Kevin would have never been caught dead in, but it made Anna smile. In another version of her life, she would have gone for it tonight. Instead she got to watch the brunette woman hand him her phone just like she'd done a few minutes prior.

"It's pretty late," she said suddenly even though she had no idea what time it actually was. "I'm going to head out."

Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics both looked a little alarmed. "Already?"

"Yeah," she said, setting down her ginger ale and trying to skirt past Bob and the unknown woman. She gave both of her friends a quick hug and said, "I have a lot to prepare for my upcoming classes this weekend."

"Let me walk you to your car," Bob replied immediately, slipping away from the brunette to be closer to Anna. "Maybe you can give me the titles of the Jane Austen books again?" His cheeks were flushed, and the other woman looked annoyed now which did make Anna smile.

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," she repeated for him as she started to walk past the bar sending a wave in the direction of the pool table. Bob was following her now as she added, "And I don't have a car, so there's nothing to walk me to."

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," he repeated softly to himself. "Will you let me drive you home then?" he asked hopefully. "All I had to drink was ginger ale."

Anna let herself look up at him before she shook her head. "I'll get an Uber, but thanks for offering. It was nice to meet you. Again."

"It sure was," he agreed as he continued to follow her all the way to the door.

With one last glance over her shoulder, she noticed the dark haired woman on her tiptoes looking around for Bob. "Your brunette friend is looking for you," Anna said softly before slipping outside into the cool night air and opening the rideshare app on her phone. Bob didn't follow her any further, and she rode home with disappointment and sadness thrumming through her body. She was out of cheap wine, but at least she had her favorite poetry website to keep her company.

-------------------------

Bob groaned as he nudged his glasses up his nose and pressed his fingertips to his eyes until he was seeing stars. "But I like redheads," he moaned to himself. He could not believe it. He really just couldn't get over the fact that tonight of all nights some random woman started to chat him up. Anna could barely look at him to begin with, but now he'd be damn lucky if she actually texted him the book recommendations at all.

His dream girl was Anna. Anna was the perfect woman he met at the bookstore. Anna was the one he'd been thinking about nonstop, but now he had confirmation that she wasn't into him. That's why she vanished last weekend. That's why she gave him the cold shoulder tonight when he was practically tripping over himself at the sight of her. She was perfect. He was just hopeless. He could keep thinking about her, but what was the point? Now that he knew she worked with his friends, he had to stop this crush in its tracks and try to save face.

"There you are, Robby." A hand snaked around his side to his abs, and he almost jumped a foot in the air. He hated being called that, and he hated that Anna saw this woman talking to him.

"Hi," he said cautiously, taking a step away from her.

"Is the redhead your girlfriend?" she asked, clearly annoyed now.

Bob sighed and said, "I wish."

She rolled her eyes and vanished back into the crowd, leaving him alone again. He never imagined he'd have such an eventful night involving the fairer sex. "Damn it," he whispered as he made his way back toward the pool table to his friends.

"There he is!" Bradley called out with his hands cupped around his mouth. "Big ol' Bob! Did you just give your phone number to not one but two women?"

His wife and Jessica both looked mad now. "I thought you liked Anna," Jessica snapped. "Once we realized she was the redhead from the bookstore, we thought you'd probably end up sneaking off with her or something."

Bob could feel the heat rising in his face. "Come on," he replied, giving Jessica a look. "There's no way that would have happened. And I didn't give that other woman my number. I didn't even want to talk to her." In a softer voice, he added, "She just started touching me for no reason."

Bradley's wife pulled Bob in for a quick hug as she said, "Pretty soon, you'll be as good at dodging them as Bradley is." She looked him in the eye and quietly asked, "Now what happened with Anna?"

"I don't really know." That was his honest answer. "I was excited to see her again. I guess I imagined she vanished in the bookstore like some sort of romanticized Cinderella fairytale or something stupid when in reality she just... kind of got tired of talking to me. She seemed a little uncomfortable when she saw me again tonight, so that must be it."

"I think you're wrong," she said with conviction that almost made Bob believe it himself. "Jess and I will ask her about it next week."

"Please don't," he groaned, shaking his head. "I'm going to go home. See you at D&D tomorrow," he told Jessica before stopping by the bar to pay for the ginger ales, but Penny just waved him on. He left her a ten dollar tip and walked out to his truck.

It wasn't even that late, and when he parked in front of his duplex, his elderly next door neighbor was still awake with her door propped open for her cat to come back inside. As Bob trudged up the shared walkway with his key in hand, she called out, "Robert! Is that you?"

"Hi, Suzanne," he replied with a laugh. "It's me."

She was sitting on her couch, and he could hear game show reruns playing as she loudly said, "You're home pretty early for a Friday night. Still haven't found a girlfriend?"

Bob groaned. He could kick himself for even mentioning that he wished he had a girlfriend a few weeks ago when he took dinner over for her one Sunday evening. "Still single," he confirmed as he headed for his front door which was all of ten feet away from hers.

She scoffed, and Bob saw her massive cat, Sylvester, streak back inside. "You must not be trying very hard, Robert. Handsome, strong thing like you."

It was like arguing with his grandma, so he just avoided it completely. "Okay, I saw Sylvester run inside, so I'm going to close your front door. Make sure you lock it before you go to sleep. Good night, Suzanne."

He pulled her door closed for her and then unlocked his, and he walked inside to find his copy of A Room with a View sitting on the coffee table. It seemed to be taunting him like it knew he'd seen the adorable redhead again. And struck out a second time. He was confused and hurt and annoyed, and he just wanted to go to bed and pretend like he wasn't as hopeless as he felt.

-----------------------------

These babes need to get themselves straightened out! Anna, he thinks you're not into him! Bob, she's scared to admit she is! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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goose8791 · 3 months

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Child of the storm

Note: SPOILERS, if you have not read the books. If you know the ending of the lightning thief then this will be fine but if you haven't or don’t want to be spoiled for the ending of the show do not read this. ( I’m looking out for you pookie <3)

pairing: luke castellan x Poseidon Fem!reader

warnings: Arguing, I want you but I can’t have you trope, Angst, kissing

"Hello?" Her voice came through the phone, accompanied by the crackling of static in Luke's ear.

"It's Luke," he responded, pressing his fingers into his tired eyes. Silence met his ears. "The camp is falling apart," he admitted, frustration evident in his tone. "The cabins are at each other's throats, and I'm lost on what to do."

"I know," she sighed on the other end. "Luke, I'm already being dragged into this mess by my dad. He says my brother is on a quest for the master bolt," she explained, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I didn't even know I had a brother until this morning," she added with a hiss.

Luke's stomach twisted with anger “why are you calling me” The words escaped through her gritted teeth. After a prolonged silence on the line, she finally took a breath.

"Luke, I've been covering for you for months," she admitted, frustration evident in her voice. "And now, my brother—someone I didn't even know existed—seems to be entangled in your idiocy." There was a pause, and Luke remained silent.

"They think he stole it," she seethed, frustration boiling over. "And we both know that's far from the truth." After taking a breath, Luke listened intently. Over ten months had passed since their last conversation or encounter, and he found solace in just hearing her voice. He wanted to savour every syllable that left her mouth.

"Luke," she sighed, a sense of resignation in her tone. "I can't help you. I can't keep doing this. I can't cover for you anymore. You're on your own." As she moved to end the call, panic filled Luke's voice.

"Wait! Please, just listen to me," he pleaded desperately. "NO, Luke, you listen to me. You've gone too far. I was with you from the beginning, but stealing the master bolt... Luke, I've changed, and you haven't," she declared firmly, leaving a pause.

"Meet me at the beach in Jersey," he almost whispered, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and vulnerability. "What?" she questioned, confusion in her tone. "Just do it," he snapped, frustration seeping into his tone. "Please," he added, the desperation in his voice seeping into her ears. She took a moment to consider, the static in the phone creating a deafening backdrop to their strained conversation. "Fine," she agreed, the decision made after a brief pause, and then the line went silent on Luke's end.

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Luke stands on the beach, the gritty sand slipping between his toes as he clutches his shoes in his hands. His gaze remains fixed on the expansive canvas of the ocean, its vastness both humbling and daunting. In the early evening, the ocean undergoes a captivating transformation, evolving into a symphony of rhythmic undulations.

As Luke shifts nervously on his feet, the subdued hues of the setting sun cast a gentle glow upon the water, bestowing an ethereal quality to the scene. The waves, reminiscent of graceful dancers, curl over in a serene ballet, each motion leaving a transient mark on the water's surface.

However, an undercurrent of change is visible. The ocean begins to deepen, the light blues of the day contorting into darker shades of black and navy. The waves, once a tranquil ballet, now adopt a more assertive stance, punching the shore with newfound vigour. Luke feels the shift in the air, the atmosphere charged with an unspoken intensity.

He stands there, caught between the ebb and flow of the changing tides, feeling the cool breeze play with his hair. The salt from the sea hangs in the air, sticking to his lashes. Above him, grey clouds gather, a subtle harbinger of the impending change. As if responding to some unseen force, the sea, with a sudden abruptness, flattens.

Amidst the quiet tension, her arrival becomes a beacon of contrasting serenity. Her hair, the first thing that catches his eye, emerges from the blues—sleek and shining like the ocean itself, capturing the remaining light. With each step, her shoulders appear, water cascading from the light armour she wears. Long strands of her hair, wrapped around her index finger, release droplets as she drains the water from it. The white foam from the now-subdued waves pools at her boots as she makes her way up the beach.

Once her foot leaves the water, the ocean, as if resentful of her departure, reverts to its rageful intent, thrashing and spitting with renewed fervour. Undeterred, she walks up the beach, her head bowed slightly, and her hair moved to sit over her shoulder. Luke's eyes follow her, never leaving her figure as she almost struts up to him.

“Look at you," he states, his gaze captivated by the armour that exudes the timeless elegance of Ancient Greek craftsmanship. Her breastplate, a gleaming testament forged from bronze, hosts intricate engravings portraying swirling waves and mythical sea creatures. The craftsmanship, exquisite in every detail, captures the fluidity of the ocean's dance with unparalleled artistry. Adorning her shoulders, the epaulettes, fashioned to resemble the majestic fins of a sea serpent, add an ethereal touch to the ensemble.

Her eyes, a reflection of the depths of her experiences, remain locked onto his. She's not the same 18-year-old girl who left camp a year ago, harbouring resentment toward the gods and grappling with self-doubt. She's transformed into a soldier for her father, and the weight of her newfound strength and purpose makes him feel almost small in her presence.

"You are really your fathers daughter now, aren't you” he declares, his tone carrying a mixture of disbelief and frustration. She meets his gaze with unwavering intensity "I've changed, Luke," she retorts, her voice firm. "I'm not that naive girl who once questioned everything. I've seen the power, the responsibility that comes with being a part of this world." He scoffs, a bitter edge to his words, crossing his arms over his chest. "Responsibility? Do you hear yourself, More like blind servitude.You've become a pawn in their games, a soldier for a cause that doesn't care about you.”

Her eyes narrow, a spark of defiance igniting within her. "You're still clinging to that rebellious dream of a new age," she counters. “Do you hear yourself?” she mocks. His frustration mounts, and he takes a step closer, the distance between them narrowing. "What happened to forging our own path?” he states with a slight hiss, his eyes looking down onto her examining her face with his brown eyes “free from their whims?” he adds in an almost whisper, pushing back a strand of dark hair behind her ear, she moves her face away from his hand “You've abandoned that for a role that has you dancing to their tune." Luke continues, She squares her shoulders, a steely resolve in her demeanour. "I've embraced my heritage, Luke. I've found purpose and strength in it. Maybe it's time you stop fighting against it and see that." She steps back from him, and he goes to move after her, almost magnetised to her presents, but her eyes worn him.

"If you wanted to meet me here just to argue, then I'm going because I can't—" Her words are cut short, interrupted by Luke as he reaches out, gently catching her hand. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you again," he admits, his voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and longing.

His gaze searches hers for a trace of understanding. "We used to dream of a life together," he continues, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I miss that, miss us. And if this is the only way I get to be near you, even if it means arguing, then I'll take it. Because not having you in my life feels like an endless storm." he admits his eyes burning through hers.

She looks back at him, a realisation dawning in her eyes as if she's just understood the depth of what love truly means. In that moment, she sees everything reflected in his gaze — the longing, the vulnerability, the unwavering devotion. His hands holding hers speak volumes, and the words that escape his lips carry the weight of a love that has weathered storms.

To him, she is everything — a constellation in the vast expanse of his universe. She can feel it in the warmth of his hands, hear it in the soft timbre of his voice. He has been the constant, the anchor in the tumultuous sea of their shared existence.

Yet, as she stands there, she recognizes that love is a complex tapestry, woven with threads of both joy and pain. He was her sun, a source of warmth and brightness, but the sea called to her, and she found herself in its depths and storms. The day she turned eighteen and was claimed by her father, the sea embraced her, and she felt a sense of belonging she had long yearned for. She learned to shine not only for him but also for herself, finding her identity in the ebb and flow of the waves.

"I can lose everything but not you… oh gods, not you," he almost says to himself, his words carried away by the wind and the sound of the waves. Her ears barely catch the sentiment, but her body reacts before her brain can intervene. Her arm slings around his neck, and her lips crash into his. In that moment, the world around them fades into the background.

His hands find her waist, pulling her closer as they share a desperate and breathless kiss. It's a collision of emotions, a manifestation of the tangled feelings that have lingered between them. When they finally break apart, he places his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.

"You fix this mess... with the master bolt, with my father and Zeus… and then maybe we could have this," she almost whispers, her voice a tender murmur against the backdrop of the ocean's symphony. "We could have us."

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#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo spoilers #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke pjo

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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader PART TWO [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

PART ONE

Tell me that it's not my fault

“Steve!” You yelled the boy's name on instinct when you saw him the morning after the cabin incident. “Hey, Steve!”

He looked startled to hear you, to hear his name on your lips when it wasn’t snarled or yelled. But he stopped anyway, blinking at you in the sunlight as you jogged over to him, hair still damp from the lake, leaving your shorts unbuttoned over your swimsuit.

“Hey,” you said, softer now you were closer. “I heard about Billy.”

Steve made a face that you tried not to smile at, his expression somewhat regretful, like he was expecting you to tell him off, something you would’ve normally done. Instead, you turned your attention to the cut on his cheek, the small scratch that still looked too fresh not to hurt. There was a bruise forming around it, blotchy blue and purple, high on his cheekbone.

[THIS MUST BE THE PLACE (COVER) BY THE LUMINEERS]

You ached to reach out, to take Steve’s chin between your finger and thumb so you could pull him down to you, so you could kiss the mark better. “Are you okay?” You asked instead.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, eyes darting around the forest floor, at the trees and the sun, before they settled on you. He swallowed hard and tried not to watch the drop of water that was running from the nape of your neck down your chest. “Yeah, m’fine. No big deal.”

You huffed, a familiar sound that made the corners of Steve’s mouth pick up, because you still sounded soft, huffy in a way that made him want to fix it.

“That’s not what Eddie said,'' you told him, finally giving in and moving a little closer, toes of your sneakers pushed into the moss so you could peer at his injuries with concerned eyes. “He said you really went for Billy. That he’d never seen you like that before.”

Steve froze as you inspected his cheek, closer than you’d been in weeks. You still smelled the same, he noted, under your sunscreen and the lake water. Your perfume still clung to your skin and Steve watched with parted lips as you reached up to push some of his hair back in order to get a better look at his cheek.

You kept your gaze lowered as you did so, careful not to move too fast, wary about making eye contact. But Steve didn’t move away.

“S’nothing, honest. Just got out of hand.” Steve swallowed again, mouth too dry and Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand accidentally grazed your hip as he shifted. “Um, what else did Eddie say?”

You frowned, letting your hand drop from Steve’s face, albeit grudgingly. The boy was pleased to note that you didn’t move away. “Not much, apart from that. Why?”

Steve shrugged, feeling clumsy, feeling lovesick, like a teenager with a first crush, like a stupid boy who didn’t know how to function with a pretty girl so close. A month ago, he’d had taken this opportunity to pull you behind the kayak stack, nimble and sure fingers slipping down the straps of your swimsuit as he kissed you until you whispered his name the way he liked to hear.

Instead, he gave you a small smile. “No reason. Hey, do I, uh, still have sand or somethin’ in the cut? Feels itchy.”

Steve knew that the slice on his cheek was more than clean, he’d spent long enough cornered by Joyce as she squeezed cotton balls soaked in antiseptic over the injury, again and again until he batted her away with pleading eyes. But he was desperate for you to touch him again, to be this close to you without arguing. And if he couldn’t kiss you, well, maybe your soft hands on his cheek would just have to do.

You took the bait, whether you’d seen through his plan or not, Steve didn’t care. You leaned in, fingers careful on his jaw as you tilted his face this way and that, close enough that your nose almost skimmed his cheek. Steve thought you were warmer than the sun then, a heat against him that he missed even more than he’d realised. He held his breath, clenched his hands at his sides and tried not to touch you.

“Maybe there’s a little something,” you lied, “just there. Hold still.”

Steve did as you asked, frozen as you swept a gentle finger over the tender skin. You wanted to kiss the bruise, the mottled shape on his cheek that had darkened over night. But you kept your eyes lowered, movements careful, pretending to swipe away something that was never there.

“Think it’s some sand or something,” you whispered.

Steve licked his lips, hummed in agreement and let his gaze land on your face. You were just as pretty, he noted, even when you looked so sad.

“What do you think of Shelbyville?” The boy asked it so suddenly that you stopped what you were doing, your hand paused against Steve’s cheek, your fingers splayed over his jaw.

You wrinkled your nose, confused as you considered his question. “Shelbyville? Why?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just smiled a little weakly and made a half shrug with his shoulders, waiting for your answer.

“It’s nice, I guess,” you finally replied, still confused but answering honestly. “S’pretty. My aunt lives there, out by Blue River. I like it.”

Something in Steve’s chest grew, an elated feeling that felt a little like hope, like a new possibility. “Yeah?” He smiled a little more confidently, brows raised.

You still weren’t sure why he was asking, or why he suddenly seemed so happy but you couldn’t help but smile back. You nodded, squinting up at him through the rays of sun that had appeared through the tree canopy, turning you both golden.

“Yeah,” you agreed. Grudgingly, you dropped your hand from his face, fingertips trailing down his jaw until you had no choice to step back, finding no reason to be so close. Not now. “There we go, all clean.”

Steve nodded, smile dropping slightly as you moved away, and his hand reached up to his own cheek, to the same spot you’d held. Like he was chasing your touch. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, just as soft.

It hurt to walk away, it physically hurt. So you backed up slowly, like keeping your eyes on Steve for as long as you could would somehow help and the boy stayed where you’d left him, his hand on his sore cheek, staring at you as you made your way back to the dock.

Robin was there, a stack of lifejackets in her arms, the ones you’d dropped at the sight of Steve. You took them back from her, cheeks warm, gaze lowered. You watched as Steve finally left, almost walking into a camp sign, face burning pink as he frowned at it.

“What was that?” Robin asked, brows raised under her cap. It was on backwards and had been adorned with another patch, a purple Care Bear that had its middle finger lifted.

You stared at her, wide eyed, as if that would help feign ignorance a little better. “What was what?”

“Bitch,” Robin scoffed, amused. “Don’t even try it.” She dumped more life jackets into your arms, laughing when you protested. “You’re not slick, you know.”

You kept your head down, a small shred of hope blooming in between your ribs like new flowers. If you smiled, Robin pretended that she didn’t see it.

—————

“Capture the flag,” Hopper announced, standing to face the crowd of campers and staff alike. “Need I explain?”

The kids murmured excitedly and shook their heads, eagerly awaiting their weaponry as Murray weaved in and out of the groups with tiny balloons filled with coloured paint and an old, fraying piece of ribbon that was meant to be tied around an arm. “Red or blue?” he’d ask each kid, before grinning and giving them the opposite of what they asked for.

“Aren’t these supposed to go in paint guns, or something?” Lucas called out, squinting pitifully at the small balloon he held aloft. “These ain’t gonna do shi--”

“Language, Mr. Sinclair,” Hopper called back cheerfully. “And I’m so sorry, you seem to have mistaken our budget with Camp America. Take the damn balloons and pray you got a good arm, kid.”

The campers snickered and Lucas frowned, shoving a shoulder into Dustin who jostled Will and Mike, a red paint filled balloon popping prematurely and bursting over the smallest boy’s sneakers. Will sighed, a long suffering thing that was too weary for a preteen, and held out a hand for Murray to deposit another one into it.

“Maybe we can do some fundraising for next year,” Murray added, making his way back to the front of the group. “I’m sure Mr. Harrington can help arrange something, right Steven?”

Every pair of eyes shot to Steve as he stood slack jawed and wide eyed, gaze finding yours in the confusion. You were looking at him with furrowed brows, wondering what on earth Murray could have meant. Next year? Mr. Harrington?

“Uh…” was all Steve had to say.

Eddie snorted. Steve backhanded him in the stomach. You were still frowning.

“Team captains,” Murray announced, holding two more armbands aloft. These ones had a crown on each, penned on with black marker that had faded over the years. “Choose your leaders, people.”

It took approximately half a second for Eddie to shove Steve forward, sending him through a crowd of kids that squealed at the jostling. Unsure if it was planned or not, you swore when Robin did the same to you, nipping at your side so you squeaked. You glared at Murray when he approached, grinning wide.

“This should be fun,” he drawled, teasing. His eyes flashed too much mischief for a man pushing fifty and you grunted your annoyance even when you grabbed the armband from him.

You didn’t look to see if Steve did the same, but you heard his hissed argument with Eddie as you made Robin tie the material around your bicep, red cotton against your mustard yellow lifeguard shirt.

“Harrington,” Murray announced. “Look sharp and uh, let’s keep it clean, huh, kiddies?”

When you finally spared a glance, Murray was looking between you and Steve, still grinning and the boy was knotting the blue band around his arm, his features pulled together in frustration.

Hopper was pinching at his eyes, looking pained. “For the love of god, any destruction of property, will be coming out of your fu— out of your paychecks.” The man sighed, already tired and he huffed. “Take the damned flags and don’t trash my camp.”

And then the game began.

The camp was alive with noise and colour, the sounds of kids laughing and screeching as they launched tiny paint balls at each other, all strategy and planning out the window after Eddie and Jonathan launched a sneak attack on Robin, dousing her in blue paint that they dropped from a tree. Subtlety was gone after that and the kids ran amok, abandoning their positions until you were the only one left defending the flag, an old ratty, red thing that was shoved up high and behind the stacked gym mats inside the hall.

You were bored hearing the screams from outside, pacing the gym as you waited for either a teammate to return (Max and Will had left ten minutes ago for more supplies, but you heard the sorrowful sounds of Will being pelted with balloons mere seconds after leaving the gym. Max had snorted and left him behind), or for an opponent to try their luck at capturing your flag. You weren’t sure which option appealed less, as the semi silence you were left in gave you too much time to think.

Why did Steve ask about Shelbyville of all places? Why did Murray talk like Steve was going to be here next year?

Outside, you heard someone yell, someone shriek and then a casualty was declared as Dustin yelped about having paint in his eye and how Max was playing too mean. You considered leaving, going to check everyone had it all covered but you heard Joyce fuss, kids giggling and soon enough, the game kicked back off.

The late afternoon was turning to evening when the doors finally jolted open, a squeak and a whine of the hinges that let in the last of the golden coloured light, the sky turning pinky peach through the old, cracked windows.

You turned to face your opponent with a balloon in your fist, already raised and aimed at the doorway.

Steve.

You sighed, trying your best to seem unaffected even though you could feel your own heartbeat in your ears. You pushed the toe of a sneaker into the gym floor, making it squeak. “This seems clichéd,” you joked.

The boy snorted, a light huff of air that eased the pounding of your chest. “Right?” He agreed. “But Eddie got disqualified for unfair use of weaponry and fuck knows where Billy led Mike and Lucas.”

You frowned, genuine concern evident in your voice. “And no one thought to check on them?”

Steve shrugged, grinning. “S’fine. Mike’s been taking karate classes. Apparently.”

It was easy to joke like this. Just like it had been easy to forget about how Steve walked away from the cabin trap set by the kids, how you’d run to him the minute you found out he was hurt, how it was easier still to put your hands on his jaw, his cheek, play pretend and fake act nurse.

But suddenly the last few weeks, the last few months, caught up to you and you were more aware than ever that August was soon approaching. You wondered if Steve’s room back in Hawkins was already packed up, if his carpet was covered in cardboard boxes, if his mom and dad would travel to Arizona with him, if he already had his class schedule, if he still really wanted to go.

“What’s in Shelbyville?”

“What—?”

“Do you know someone there? And why did you hit Billy? Was it something to do with me?”

The boy was reeling from your onslaught of sudden questioning and the attention made him burn. “What? No,” Steve scoffed, trying and failing miserably to appear cool and collected. “Why? What did Eddie tell you?”

“What’s going on, Steve? Why’s Murray calling you Mr. Harrington, why are you—”

“It’s nothing!” The boy interrupted. “Nothin’s going on.”

“Stop lying to me!”

Steve swallowed and let out a sigh that hurt his chest, a stuttering, wrenching thing because your eyes were turning glassy and he saw the way you caught yourself as your bottom lip started to tremble.

“I’m no— I, fuck, I’m not trying to lie to you, it’s just…” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Princess, listen—”

A paint balloon landed on Steve’s hip, a barely there thump but the ball exploded with red paint, splattering across Steve’s clothes, his shirt, his forearm. He blinked up at you, lips parting in surprise.

“Don’t call me that,” your words were thick with emotion, your lips in a tight line as you tried your hardest not to break. “And stop lying to me. All you’ve done is lie to me.”

Steve was speechless, holding his arms out before letting them drop back to his side in defeat. “I haven't lied to you,” he said mournfully. “At least I haven’t meant to, shit, it’s been— hard, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know it’s been hard Steve, but god, tell me the truth! At least admit it to yourself.”

“What truth?” Steve yelled, grimacing when you flinched. He immediately felt awful, but the frustration in his chest was simmering over, clawing its way up his throat. “What do you want me to say, huh? That you were right? That I’m some kind of fucking loser that’s doing as daddy says? That I’m so stupid that only the way I can get into college is if I let my dad pay my way in?”

He threw a paintball at the floor, only feeling slightly bad when some of the colour reached the toes of your shoes, your bare shins. Bright blue streaked across your skin and you frowned, at the mess and Steve’s words.

“You’re not a loser,” you growled, annoyance colouring your tone. No one was allowed to talk shit about Steve Harrington. Not even himself. Not to you, at least. “And you’re not stupid, Steve. Stop it.”

Another paint balloon was thrown, this time by you, a careful aim that caught Steve’s chest. He swore, staring at the bloom of red over his staff shirt before he glared at you. “Hey, the fuck was that for?”

“You’re not a loser and you’re not stupid and your dad is a fucking bully who can’t be happy for his son’s own choices.” You launched another, huffing when Steve managed to avoid it, paint exploding over the gym floor instead.

“Stop!” Steve retaliated with his own weapons, chucking a blue balloon at your thigh, feeling a tiny flush of satisfaction when it burst all over your tennis skirt.

“Are you still going to Arizona?” You were near breathless, adrenaline high as you held another balloon in your hand, ready to take aim.

“No!” Steve burst. He swore, dropping the last balloon and groaning when the paint hit his feet. He scrubbed his hands over his face, streaks of blue over his cheeks and into his hair as he tugged on the ends. “I don’t know. Fuck, I— no. I don’t want to. I never fucking wanted to.”

You dropped your balloon too, red on the floor, on your shoes, your ankles. You stared at the boy, shocked as his admittance, despite how you’d known it all along. You weren’t sure what to do now, what to say. But tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and heavy.

You sniffed, tears gathering at your lash line, making the boy before you blurry. You took a deep breath before your next question, wondering if this is the one that would hurt the most, but before you could, Steve spoke first.

“You said I didn’t call you back,” he sounded as wrecked as you felt, his words thick and clumsy, his eyes holding too much emotion to try and decipher. “That night, after the party, you said I didn't call you back. When? When did you call me?”

You were stunned. One, that you’d admitted that, and two, that Steve had remembered. The vodka you’d had that night made the memories blurry, but you could recall your head buried in Steve’s chest, his sweatshirt on your frame, his cologne and leftover campfire smoke amongst cotton sheets. A mumbled confession, sad words and sleep.

You shrugged, helpless. “Fuck, I— I called you the night after. The night after you told me about college. I rang and your dad answered.” You swallowed harshly, looking anywhere but at Steve. “He said you were busy. Said he’d tell you I called.”

If Steve had felt an annoyance, a disdain, for his father before, nothing really compared to the anger that burst in his chest like a bomb. “What?”

You shrugged at him again.

“Ba—” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair until it stood on end. He said your name, agonised. “I didn’t know you called. I— fuck, I would’ve called you back. I spent fucking weeks standing at the phone wishing you would, tryin’ to work up the balls to call you myself.”

Steve stepped forward, once, twice. “He didn’t tell me. My dad didn’t tell me you tried to get in touch.” Steve’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and take your own. “I would’ve called you back. Fuck, I would’ve driven straight over to you and—”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence before you’d launched yourself at him. You didn’t know what any of it meant, not yet, not really. You didn’t know if Steve really was going to stay, what that meant for you both, what would happen next. Nothing could be fixed right now, not right away, not in the middle of the forest during a game of capture the flag, but you decided then and there - covered in paint - that eight weeks was too long to go without kissing Steve Harrington.

He caught you, arms around your waist as you crushed yourself to his chest, your hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck so you could tug him down to meet your lips. Steve went willingly, your toes barely skimming the floor, your T-shirt tangled between the boy’s fingers as he gripped you like he’d never dream of letting you go.

Not again.

Not ever.

It was a messy thing, that kiss. It felt new, like a reset, a restart, like the first time all over again. Your noses bumped and you breathed in the air that Steve blew out, a sigh, a swear, lips pushed together until either of you could handle it anymore.

“I thought you hated me,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, eyes closed tight and his arms still around you. “Fuck, I thought—”

“No,” you told him, hands covering his jaw, thumb soothing over the apples of his cheeks, the cut that was still there. “No, no, could never. Could never hate you.”

Your feet were back on the ground now, the toes of your sneakers pushed to the gym floor, stepping in paint as you both swayed slightly at the desperation of each other's grip. That’s all Steve seemed to need to hear, because the boy dipped his head back down to yours and kissed you soundly, with more confidence than the first time, like he suddenly remembered that he knew how to do this. His hands were up your shirt, fingertips skimming along your spine, palm flat to your skin to hold you to him so he could kiss you deeper, slower, longer.

And when you parted your lips for him, you weren’t sure who made the first noise. But you whined and Steve groaned, tongues licking over each other’s, four hands getting greedy, pulling and shoving at camp shirts to feel more.

“I don’t wanna go to Arizona,” Steve whispered, and you pulled back enough to soothe a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes. He looked at you so seriously that you felt it in your chest, a sharp pang of hurt and relief for the boy. “I don’t wanna study finance.”

“I know.” You nodded, bringing him back to you, kissing over whatever part of him you could reach. His jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his closed eyelids, his chin. “I know, it’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy, you know that right?”

Steve nodded too, nose bumping yours as he stumbled backwards, clumsy footing taking you both away from the middle of the gym. “I know, baby,” he sucked in a breath. “M’sorry.”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He had you up against a wall before you realised, head tilted down to you as he nuzzled at your throat, your head tipping back so you could let Steve do as he pleased. He nipped at the skin there, kissing along your neck until you cried out his name and god, the hands he had on your waist just squeezed tighter in response.

“Shit, Steve,” you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed. “I should be the one apologising, I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did, I should’ve—”

“Nonono,” Steve shook his head, catching your lips for another kiss again, swallowing your noises as you whined for him, fingers twisting and tugging meanly at his hair, the collar of his shirt. “Don’t wanna talk anymore,” he groaned. “Not right now, please…”

[MEDICINE BY HARRY STYLES]

“Storeroom,” you told him, nodding towards the double doors that led into the large cupboard, away from any prying eyes that would eventually come into the gym. “Now.”

Steve was apparently as desperate as you were, because he didn’t take his lips off of you, even as you both stumbled towards your chosen hiding spot. Feet tripped over each other as you made it across the gym, hands still in his air and tugging him down to you. Steve didn’t seem to mind, groaning loud when you sighed and tipped your head back for him, letting him lick and suck at your neck. There was paint smeared everywhere, splatters of red and blue mixing to make a lavender colour, streaking your skin and Steve’s.

And then the door to the storeroom was wrenched open and Steve was guiding you in with a tug of his hand. It was funny how your stomach flipped, a nervous excitement, an anticipation hooking in your stomach like this was your first time with the boy all over again. Except you knew what he liked and you knew how to make him fall apart so easily, which is why you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at him, Steve’s back against the wall this time as your hands cradled his jaw and you pulled him down to meet your kiss.

Shoulders bumped old shelves, metal ball cages that were only half full now that the summer was coming to an end and there were stacks of old oars leaning against three kayaks, each plastered with patches of new paint that didn’t match the original colour. A quick fix it job that Steve had been tasked with last summer after he flat out refused to hand over the three hundred dollars Hopper demanded for a new boat.

You thought of that stupid jar on your managers desk and wondered if it would be worth it.

But once you’d pulled back, just a touch to look up at Steve, your mind was made up. The boy looked wrecked, tanned skin messy with paint, streaks of it running across strong forearms, dots of it somehow mixing with freckles across his cheeks and nose. You’d gotten red paint in his hair when you’d grabbed at it, making it messier than ever. But Steve didn’t seem to care, nor if the way he was looking at you was any indication. Heavy, hooded eyes on you, roaming unashamedly over your face, your frame, the way you’d pushed your thighs together for some relief. He was already hard, thick and strained against the zipper of his jeans at the very first touch of your lips against his.

Yeah, it would be worth it.

“Missed you,” he whispered, reverent, ruined. His hands reached out for you again, fingers twisting in the sides of your shirt to pull you back to him. “Thought that was it, thought I’d never get to have you like this again.”

You made a noise of protest at the thought, a hiccuping thing that Steve swallowed with a kiss, his breath coming out heavy against your cheek. You were impatient now, too worked up, desperate for him. Your hands snuck under his shirt, slipping up and over his stomach, smiling when the muscles there clenched and twitched under your fingertips. You raked your nails back down him, anchoring yourself to his belt loops, wondering if he’d let you do what you wanted him with, if he’d be patient enough.

Steve was working his mouth over your neck when you asked, his own thumb pulling at your shirt collar to try and stretch it out for himself, uncovering more skin to kiss.

“Steve,” you were breathless and he hummed, never stopping the way he sucked and bit down at the crook of your neck. “Wanna suck you off.”

The noise that left the boy’s lips was unholy, a needy, wrecked sounding thing that had you more desperate to get on your knees than ever. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it with a finesse that made Steve’s eyes flutter.

“Please,” you added for extra effect, like you didn’t already know Steve would give you whatever you wanted.

“Fuck, honey,” Steve pulled back, just slightly, his head falling backwards until it thumped dully against the wall. His pupils were blown wide, his hold on your waist tightening, hands sneaking under cotton to steal a touch of your skin. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

You nodded immediately, lips parting at the thought, head going fuzzy at the idea of having Steve inside you again after what felt like a fucking lifetime. Two years of regular sex had spoiled you, and not even your own fingers in a private Sunday morning shower had gotten you past frustrated. “God, yeah, yeah I do.”

Steve nodded like he knew, like he understood your frustration and well, he probably did. He reached up to trace a thumb over your bottom lip, hand cracking your jaw as he pulled it from place, watching awestruck as it popped prettily back into place when he let it go. You whined, moving closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands around his wrist, anchoring him to you.

Steve let out a quiet curse, breath uneven and watching you from under his lashes, bringing his thumb back to your mouth. He teased you just a little, rubbing the pad of it over the seam of your lips, taking it away every time you tried to part them. But when he saw you getting glossy eyed and restless, he gave in, sinking the tip of his thumb past your lips and resting on the soft of your tongue.

Steve groaned when you whined, pulling you closer by one hip and wedging a thigh between your legs for you to push yourself against. His gaze was locked on your mouth as he dragged his thumb out past your lips, just a little, just enough to see the slick skin and the way your tongue chased it, curling around the digit. His cock twitched with jealousy in his jeans.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered to your doe eyed stare, your wet lips. “Can’t let you get your mouth on me, princess, m’sorry. Wouldn’t last a fucking second.”

You bit down on his thumb as some kind of argument, frowning when Steve slipped it from your mouth. But before you could protest, he was back on you, hands carding into your hair and pulling you flush to him, tongue on yours in seconds. You moaned into the kiss, a heavy, dirty thing that made you lick into him deeper, grinding yourself down on the thigh he’d so kindly given you.

It didn’t take long for Steve to lose some patience - or maybe it was control - but he was effortless in the way he spun you both, trading places so he could pin you against the wall instead. You thought about resisting, thought about playing hard to get and keep up the pretence of still being mad but Steve’s mouth was on your throat and his hand was sneaking up the inside of your shirt.

“Baby,” you squirmed, lashes fluttering, body boneless against him. You clung to him for dear life, fingers clutching his shoulders, his shirt, his hair. “Please.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, but it made Steve moan, a rumbling noise that vibrated through his chest to yours and he pulled back just to peck at your lips, your cheek, your jaw. “Say that again,” he murmured, voice thick with an endless affection. His lips were swollen, pouty and pink, his eyes glazed over for you. “Call me that again.”

Your body buzzed, your brain foggy and it took a few seconds for everything to catch up. Steve was still looking at you, pleading, his hands kneading at your hips, your thighs, like he didn’t dare stop touching you.

“Baby,” you repeated again and you see the relief in Steve’s gaze at the word. Affection, fondness, love, affirmation. He needed it too. So you pulled him back down to you, hands curled in the front of his T-shirt collar, kissing along his jaw and chin until he groaned and caught your lips with his. “Babybabybaby,” you mumbled against his mouth, sighing prettily between kisses, pulling him closer than necessary, scared he’d disappear.

It was a needy kiss that turned dirty, the ache between your legs making you nip at Steve’s lips, pull at his hair a little meaner, rake your nails down the back of his neck and pant into his open mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whined, your declaration messy and garbled as Steve kissed you between words. “Missed you so much.”

Steve nodded his agreement, eyes half lidded and heavy as he let you yank at his shirt, pulling it off and launching it over his shoulder. It hung from some racks, old metal shelves filled with broken gym equipment and a box camp hats that no one was made to wear anymore.

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “Jesus Christ, c’mere.” Steve pulled you back to him, your own shirt joining his, your plain white bra the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He tugged at the straps until they slid down your shoulders, baring more skin for him to kiss. “Missed you too, you’ve no idea.”

Something about the admission seemed to kick everything into high gear and Steve was mouthing across your chest as he slipped a hand up and under your skirt, teasing at the elastic edge, fingers gripping and pulling until it snapped against your thigh.

“Kept dreamin’ about you,” he confessed, whispering the words against your throat like something unholy. “Kept wakin’ up with a mess in my fucking boxers like a damn teenager ‘cause I’d fall asleep and dream about how you tasted.”

His fingers slipped past the cotton barrier, swiping achingly slow through your folds, parting them and feeling the slick there. You both moaned at the feel, one foot coming up to rest on the edge of a kayak, keeping yourself spread open for Steve. He swore and you felt his grin, a pleased and proud smile that settled against your chest.

“Good girl, that’s it, keep your leg up for me, honey.” Steve didn’t bother taking your underwear off as he sank to his knees, he just hooked your thigh over his shoulder and his fingers into pink cotton, tugging them to the side. “Fuck,” Steve hissed, eyes flickering from yours down to the shiny wetness between your legs. “Look at her, honey, still just as fuckin’ pretty, she missed me too, yeah?”

Fire nipped at your stomach, a fast roll of electricity under your skin at the boy’s words and suddenly nothing bad had ever happened, you’d never broken up and Steve had you pinned against his shower wall, cold tiles on your back and sticky, dirty words pressed onto your skin. You whined, a loud cry that Steve grinned at and you nodded, quickly realising that you’d agree to anything Steve asked.

“Yeah, she did,” Steve cooed, moving closer to kiss along your thighs, nosing at the crease where your leg met your cunt. “She’s drippin’ for me, shit, just begging for a kiss, huh?”

“Steve,” you hissed his name, half desperate, half a warning, canting your hips forward until his lips brushed against your folds. He pulled back a little, smiling wide, like he was having the time of his life. “We’re hardly in the privacy of a hotel room, fuck, c’mon, please.”

“S’where I’ll take you after camp,” the boy promised, voice low and sticky soft. He ran his mouth over your folds, a barely there kiss that made rise up onto one set of toes to chase his lips. “Gonna take you somewhere real nice, princess, gonna make up for this summer, gonna fix it, I promise.”

He was babbling, eyes closed as he kissed up and across the soft of your lower stomach, nose dragging through the soft curls below until he could lick a line over you, not parting you just yet, just teasing, tasting.

You were breathless, body bowing over Steve’s head as you grabbed at his hair and held on. If you wanted to meaner about it, if it was two months ago and he was teasing you in your bedroom, laughter on his lips, you would’ve pulled his hair and rode his face, giving in and making him moan.

But Steve was whispering promises into your skin like apologies and even in your pent up haze, you still had questions. “What about - fucking hell, Steve - what about Arizona?”

“Later, I’ll explain later,” was all he said, before he parted you with two thumbs and licked a slow, wide stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Steve knew how you liked it, had two whole years to learn what you loved, where to touch, where to kiss, when to slow down, when to speed up. He kept his eyes on you as he swiped over your clit, a soft, little kitten lick and that made you squeak and buck your hips down onto his face. The kayak you had one foot rested on groaned in protest.

You heard him whisper praise into you, filthy, pretty words that you barely heard over your own heaving breaths and your head fell back against the wall when his tongue worked its way around your entrance, licking over you, nose nudging at your clit as he did.

“Fuck, princess, she’s just crying for me, isn’t she?”

You could only whine, a soft, high pitched thing that made Steve palm at his cock through his jeans, pulling you onto his face with his free hand. He kept up those slow, lazy licks through your cunt, only speeding up when you started to roll yourself over his mouth. He groaned, a dirty noise that made you want to grab at him but you were hurtling towards an orgasm that you’d hadn’t been able to give yourself for weeks.

“M’gonna come,” you whispered, your throat tight, your voice wrecked. “Steve, Stevie, please, I’m gonna come.”

The boy didn’t dare take his mouth away from you, not even to whisper encouragement. He just snuck his hand from your thigh to your ass, squeezing you tight and he coaxed you further onto his tongue, silently telling you to rock yourself over his mouth, to take what you needed. And as your noises got breathier, needy, little whines that turned into groans, Steve took your clit into his mouth and sucked at the same time he slid two thick fingers into you, hooking them in place and rubbing.

You gushed around his fingers as you came, a sob ripping from your lips as your body gave in and bowed over Steve’s, hands clutching at his shoulders, his neck, trying to keep yourself up. Aftershocks jolted through you as Steve grinned, tongue seeking out your clit even still, licking over it softly as you came down, holding you in place as you tried to jerk away.

“Steve,” you gasped at him, pushing softly at his forehead until he gave in, running kisses up your thigh and stomach as he stood. “Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—”

“How’d you want me?” He gaped out, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from your fingers and his lips glossy from the way you’d ground yourself against his mouth. “Huh, princess? Tell me, I’ll give you it, I swear.” The boy was desperate, clinging to you, his hands on your jaw as he dipped in for a kiss, groaning wild when you licked yourself from his lips, sucking the taste of yourself from him.

You couldn’t really think, words coming out in strings of pleases and curses, begging for something you didn’t know how to ask for. So you pulled at the belt on Steve’s jeans instead, shoving the denim down his hips, just enough for you to pull his cock out and show it some proper attention. Steve’s eyes glazed over as you pumped him, thumb swiping over his leaking tip, your mouth kissing along his chest.

He groaned, a gasping, rough sound that you knew so well and Steve shook his head, batting away your hand before he came all over it. He patted at your hip, held his hands out for you. “Up,” he commanded.

You hopped easily, Steve’s hands catching your bare thighs, palms curving around your ass as he turned and set you upon the stacked kayaks. You were just the right height for him to slip into you, but he kept you waiting, playing with himself as he pulled down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits for him. He thumbed over an already hard nipple, watched in awe as it pebbled even more and he licked his lips, cock nudging at your thigh.

“Like this?” He asked you quietly, running a hand down your front, curling his fingers around your throat, squeezing gently at your chest, your hip. He was everywhere at once. “Could fuck you like this, or I could bend you over, huh?”

The kayak stand shook a little when Steve tugged at your calf, bringing you closer to the edge and his cock. You had zero faith the boats would withstand the movements that were about to ensue, but you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care.

You’d help Steve burn the camp to the ground, as long as he kept touching you.

“Like this,” you whined and god, you sounded bratty, needy, the way Steve liked it best. “Need to kiss you,” you told him and it was the truth. You were as desperate to kiss and hold and look at the boy as much as you were for him to finally fuck you.

Steve’s expression softened then, melting brown butter, his gaze sugar sweet. He leaned in, nose nuzzling yours as he kissed you, a one, two, sweet peck of a thing before your mouth fell open for him and you were gasping his name.

“Steve!”

He’d slid into you easily, caught your noise with his lips, kissing it away as he groaned through it too. You were soaked still, but the stretch and burn of taking him again for the first time in months was apparent. You whined, clutching at him, letting the boy coo and soothe you with kisses everywhere, scattered pieces of affection dotted over your nose and cheeks. He felt you clench around him, tighter than ever, and his hands found your jaw.

“Honey - Jesus Christ - baby, look, hmm? Look at me, baby.” Steve sounded almost serious, his tone low and soft, determined for your eyes on his. He caught your jaw, cradling it as he pulled out of you, just enough for the tip of him to stay inside of you, throbbing. “There we go, there, that’s it, princess.”

You could’ve let your eyes slip shut at the pleasure of it all, lips parting and jaw falling slack when Steve thrust forward again, a slow and steady rhythm that kept you stretched out and wet for him. But you knew that Steve wanted you to keep gazing at him, his own eyes heavy and half lidded as he leaned in, his forehead against yours, his stare hot as he picked up his pace.

“S’fucking amazing,” you moaned for him, almost unaware of the shuffling and banging noises you were both beginning to make. The kayaks were bumping into the wall with each rock of Steve’s hips. “Fuck, keep going, please.”

It turned harder, faster. A dirty snap of the boy’s hips against yours, his hands everywhere, one holding a thigh wide, the other tangled in the hair at the nap of your neck, a hot and commanding hot that made you arch your back for him. Steve grunted at the push of your tits bare against his chest, skin on skin and your bra, a tangle of wire and straps around your ribs, your skirt tucked up to meet it.

“M’really not gonna last long,” the boy admitted, his chest heaving, his eyelashes fluttering as he glanced down at your spread legs, the soaked cotton of your underwear stretched at the seams around one thigh, the slick, shiny wet of you coating him with each rock of his hips. “Fucking hell, s’too much, so fucking good.”

The sound of skin on skin and the rattle of kayaks filled the small room, the soft glow of the sunset coming in from the tiny window that was partially hidden by old gym mats. It turned you both bronze, shades of gold and rose and copper in the light, breathy gaps and whines that morphed into moans as you both reached the edge. You weren’t sure how long it had been, if the game was still being played, if someone had captured your flag - or Steve’s - if a whistle had been blown.

Fuck, it didn’t even matter that camp was ending next week, that you’d go back to Hawkins and live a life without the boy. Maybe. Maybe? Would you see him again? Before he left? Would you go to his parents house and stand in the same driveway you left him in and let him leave you? Would it hurt less or more after this, after you let him kiss you in the shadows, in the last bit of the sun? Would this fix it? Would it matter, once you had your clothes back on?

It was like Steve could tell you were floating away from him, like he could see you trapped in a box in your own head. He tugged gently at your hair, nudging his nose against yours and worked his cock somewhere deeper inside you. He tilted his hips up until you gasped for him and he smiled, nodding against you as you caught him for another kiss, swallowing his soft “there you go, honey, just focus on me.”

You couldn’t take much more after that, emotions and the feeling of Steve hitting that pretty spot inside of you over and over and over suddenly becoming too much. You blinked at him, body flush with his, clinging to his shoulder, his neck, his messy strands of hair. Neither of you mentioned your glassy eyes, the stuttering sob that broke in your throat when you told him:

“Need t’come, Stevie.”

Steve just kissed you sweetly, a lingering push and pull of his lips against yours that felt warmer and softer than a summer morning. Steve Harrington was still the afternoon sun and blue skies, those endlessly big clouds, the sound of a creek, the splash of a lake. He was blue raspberry popsicles and pink lemonade, he was the taste of honey, the smell of cedar and wild mint.

He was still yours.

You were sure of it.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting a hand fall to your cunt so he could flick over your clit, thumbing soft circles as he started a dirty grind of his hips into yours. “Gonna come for me, honey, yeah? Gonna come with me?”

And you did, easily. Too easily. Your whole body tightened around him as you came hard, crying out and blinking back tears. Steve was quick to follow, losing his rhythm as his hips stuttered, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as you petted his hair and whispered to him, pushing him closer and closer.

“Baby, where can I—”

It was strange to hear him ask the question. Of course, it had been asked before, a few times, years ago, when sex with each other was new and exploratory, when condoms were still used and the afterglow was filled with shy laughter and out of breath kisses.

Then comfort and familiarity grew between the tension, and intimacy took over from that new excitement. It was even better, knowing each other like that, being able to touch and feel and know what the other liked, the easiness of falling asleep stretched out beside each other, naked and ready for toothpaste kisses and a shared cup of coffee the next day.

You missed it.

You missed all of it.

“Inside,” you whined, eyes clenched shut as Steve swore and pulled you closer still. “Inside, please.”

Steve kissed you when he came, a mash of his lips against yours, an open mouth groan that you swallowed, a clumsy, aching thing that made you want to keep him this close forever.

But then the kayak underneath you squealed loudly, an ugly protest as it dug too hard into the stack beneath it, the shell of it splintering. You swore, clinging to Steve with both arms and legs before he could even pull out of you. He took your weight just as the boat cracked, a jagged hole in the bottom of it taking your count of destroyed call equipment to an all time high.

The silence was deafening.

Eventually, Steve spoke. His arms were still tucked under your thighs, his face at your neck, close enough that you could feel the twitch of his grin. “Maybe we could hide it. Y’know, before anyone sees.”

You laughed, a tired sounding thing as you tightened your hold around the boy’s neck. You wanted to kiss his cheek, his temple, his forehead, you wanted to love on him until either of you could take it anymore. You never wanted this to end - at least not with another broken kayak. But camp was almost over and August was crawling closer. So you hummed, shrugging. “We could throw it in the lake. It would sink, at least.”

—————

Neither Hopper nor Murray believed you when you told them you’d hurt your foot in the scuffle of capture the flag, as convincing as your limp may have been. And they certainly didn’t believe you both when you claimed Steve was there to help.

Hopper had narrowed his eyes at the marks on Steve’s neck, the mess of your hair, the rosy tint to each of your lips. You both shrugged, staring at the forest floor before Murray had snorted, breaking the tension and sending you both back to your cabins.

No other questions were answered that night, especially seeing as Murray was ten feet behind you both at all times, trailing you through the forest with a flashlight as he whistled jovially, ensuring you both ended up in your respective beds. So you took one last look at Steve and smiled, somewhat hopefully, maybe a little sadly, before you clambered up the porch steps and into the darkness of your bunk.

You didn’t get a kiss goodnight. Or was it supposed to be a kiss goodbye?

I don’t wanna lose this with you

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve took a deep breath and made his way out of his cabin.

It had been a long week, the last days busy and filled with games, tasks, a swim meet, a gymnastics competition, Eddie’s musical extravaganza show - his title, not yours - and a campfire story every night.

The kids were filled with marshmallows, made up of sugar and sunshine, tan lines and freckles littering their faces, messy hair smelling of sunscreen and the lake. Everyone was happy. That soft, slow kind of joy that faded into melancholy as the days turned over. For those last few days you’d spent at the lake, you regretted asking Hopper to let you run swimming with Billy more than ever before.

It kept you away from Steve, all the way across the camp so all you could do was try to keep your eyes on the kids in the water and wave at the boy when your eyes met. It was only a little embarrassing, that kind of childish, first crush kind of interaction, eyes meeting, cheeks warming, hand raised to say whatever it was you couldn’t to his face.

Not yet, anyway.

It was made even more painful with Billy lingering behind you, still sprawled on the same deck chair he stared the summer in, minus his sunglasses, because his broken nose was still too tender for them.

“Could you get more pathetic?” The boy scoffed, a little nasally, biting down on the toothpick between his teeth. “Honestly, Hawkins, you’re too hot to pine.”

You scowled, flicking your towel over your shoulder so the corner of it whipped at the boy’s shoulder. He glared at you as much as he could with his sore face.

“I’m not pining.”

“Moping then,” Billy offered, grinning. “Either way, it’s disgusting. I thought you two were over.”

“I wouldn’t tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, Hargrove,” you squinted at him through the sun, sparing a glance when Dustin pulled himself onto the dock, only to barrel roll back off of it. “What makes you think I’m discussing my love life?”

The boy huffed, a smirk on his lips, mean and cruel, like always. “Or lack of,” he commented. “You think one quick fuck can solve your problems? You think that what you got between your legs is good enough to make Harrington stay? Defy daddy dearest? Even Harrington isn’t stupid enough to turn down a free ride.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared stone faced at the water, watching the way the sun changed the ripples from white to blue to gold

Billy scoffed, taunting. “Keep dreamin’, princess.”

It hurt, his words. Billy Hargrove was a bully, a mean boy that liked nothing more than to make other people hurt as much as he did. You knew that. You’d always know that. But all that was left of you and Steve’s encounter in the gym was a fading lavender bruise on where your neck met your shoulder, a blurry bite of evidence that it had actually happened.

Your scowl deepened and you decided that being close to Billy wasn’t helping your mood.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, you sat in your bunk, wondering if you’d be brave enough to do something about the gnawing want in your chest.

You hadn’t been spying, not really, but it had become harder to ignore how often Steve seemed to disappear in and out of Hopper’s cabin. You’d spotted him through the window when the kids were eating lunch, everyone else distracted by the pizza party Robin and Bob made for the last weekend of the summer. But Steve was sitting with Hop and Murray, heads bent over the desk, pieces of paper scattered on the wood.

Hopper had looked pleased. Maybe even proud. Murray was chatting animatedly, hands waving, eyes bright.

Steve had looked the most hopeful you’d seen him in weeks.

But you didn’t get the chance to ask what was going on, because Nancy was dragging you out for one last hike and El was pulling at your hand, pleading for you to join them. You couldn’t say no and you were half way up the hillside when Steve eventually emerged, a folded piece of paper slipped into his back pocket.

And when you returned, bug bitten and tired, you tried to seek the boy out, only to find him through the office window again, his back leaning against the cabin wall as he bent his head, eyes closed and the office phone pressed to his ear. You couldn’t hear, not from so far away, not over the yells of excitement from the campers as Eddie brought out guitars and old drums, but you were almost certain Steve was yelling, a frustrated furrow between his brow before he dropped onto the sofa with the phone cord wrapped around his wrist.

You could’ve gone to him then. Knocked on the door and offered your hand, a smile, maybe a hug. And maybe Steve would’ve told you what was going on, maybe he would’ve explained everything. But it didn’t feel like the time, it didn’t feel right and Mike was pushing an out of tune guitar into your hands and challenging you to some sort of battle.

Steve returned to the camp pit soon after, his eyes a little red but his smile seemed sincere when Dustin ran to him, a faux sort of tackle that made Steve catch him round the middle. They grinned as they wrestled, laughing brightly and the air around the older boy seemed lighter than it had in weeks. When Steve caught your eyes over the kid’s head, he smiled. A real thing, pink cheeked and achingly full of love, that sticky sweet kind of adoration that you’d missed so much it had hurt.

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve knocked on your cabin door.

It was late, well after dinner and the kids were in their bunks full of sloppy joe’s and chocolate pudding, telling stories by flashlight, trading cards and secrets while they finished off their stashes of candy. Twilight had set in, that hazy lilac light that came after the sun had set and the forest was falling asleep. Cicadas buzzed in the depths of the trees and fireflies grazed the edges of the lake, that green-yellow glow that made you want to stay up a little later.

The knock came as Robin was painting her toenails, a cherry red she’d stolen from you, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel. She didn’t even look up at the sound, just slicked another coat of polish over her nail and said:

“That’ll be for you.”

You frowned from behind your book, setting it down with the pages splayed so you wouldn’t lose your place. The story of two star crossed lovers that pined for each other seemed more addictive than it usually would’ve been.

“M’not expecting anyone.”

Robin just huffed out a laugh and nodded at the door. “Don’t keep him waiting, babe.”

You padded barefoot across the cabin despite your confusion, sleep shorts high on your thighs and thank fuck you’d decided against wearing Steve’s staff sweater to bed, because the owner was standing on your porch when you opened the door.

“Hi.”

He had his shoved in his pockets and he looked flushed, slightly out of breath like he’d ran over. And maybe he had, considering it was lights out hours and no one was supposed to be out of their bunks.

“Hi.”

Steve smiled just as you did, a dopey, lovesick thing that felt awkward and lovely all at once. He shuffled on the wooden boards before he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to something you couldn’t see amongst the trees. “D’you wanna go for a drive?”

It was the easiest thing in the world to nod your head yes, trying to hide the smile that was making your cheeks ache. You dipped your chin as you turned back to your bunk, grabbing the sweater you kept under your pillow, avoiding eye contact with both Steve and Robin as you pulled it over your head. The material dropped to your thighs, the boy’s name stitched over your heart.

“Have fun and don’t get caught,” Robin warned cheerfully. She waved her nail polish brush between you and Steve before you had the chance to pull the door closed. “If either of you come back crying, we’re having words.”

You snorted, cheeks warming as Steve ducked his head with the same awkwardness. “We are?” You joked.

“Uhuh,” Robin nodded, “full intervention. Eddie will be here.”

“God forbid,” Steve deadpanned, wrinkling his nose at you when you laughed. He tugged his sweater sleeve, his fingers brushing over your wrist. “You comin’?”

You looked down at Steve’s hand like you weren’t sure whether to take it or not, if you were supposed to slip yours into his, fingers intertwined. But you nodded again, that little, shy smile still on your lips that Steve hadn’t seen in so long. Together, you walked between the cabins, keeping to the treeline and the shadows, smiling fondly when you heard the giggles and whispers from inside the kids' bunks. You were almost at Steve’s car, the BMW parked up in the makeshift lot behind the gym, when you both stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone else out in the dark.

Murray was walking back from the mess hall, a mug of something hot in one hand, an oversized cinnamon bun in the other. He was in slippers and a tartan bathrobe, his jovial whistling coming to a slow stop as he spotted the two of you out of bed.

“Shit,” Steve groaned, squinting awkwardly at the man. He raised a hand, half a wave, half a sign of defeat. “Murray, we weren’t—”

“That’s weird,” Murray interrupted, looking around the wooded area theatrically, eyes wide. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The man shrugged before looking right through you, whistling again as he passed.

“Wha—?” You were stunned, both you and Steve pivoting in the mossy ground, brows raised.

“Must be the wind!” Murray announced again, continuing his walk back to his own cabin. “But if it was a couple of rogue staff members, I’d be sure to tell them to be back by midnight. You know. If I saw any.”

Murray turned back before he took a turn in the path. He didn’t say anything else, but he winked and raised his mug before disappearing.

—————

You didn’t ask Steve where he was driving you. Honestly, you didn’t mind. Didn’t care. The passenger seat of the BMW was as familiar as your own bed, a sense of ownership and melancholy hitting you in the chest as you clicked your seatbelt into place. Steve smiled as you tucked your knees up, legs bare and feet shoved into unlaced converse, his grin widening when you fiddled with the radio dials until the mixtape he had playing turned up a little louder.

[TWICE A FOOL BY #1 DADS]

The windows were down as Steve drove down a road you’d travelled before, the wind still warm from the heat that made the day suffocating, the smell of pine needles and wild mint lingering on it. The breeze picked at your hair and Steve’s, lifting the strands until they were brushing your cheeks and sitting between your lashes.

It was all sunburnt cheeks and sore knees, achy and bone tired from a whole summer of hikes and swimming in the lake, chasing kids who were too adventures along the creek beds and hanging from tree branches when the sun went down.

The smell of sunscreen, lake water, lemonade, Steve’s cologne, wildflowers, home.

It was a broken heart that was still splintered around the edges, the anxious gnawing feeling of the possibility of loss, of something new and unwanted, something you couldn’t control. It melted into hope, into the idea of reaching out and holding Steve’s hand until he gave you something to cling to.

Steve wouldn’t drive you somewhere pretty and quiet and peaceful, just to break up all over again. Would he?

So you sucked in a breath - pine needles and wild mint and mountain air - and reached out to where Steve’s hand lay idle on the stick shift. Your fingers brushed his, cautious, nervous and he looked from the road to you with surprised eyes. Shock turned to warmth, like he’d spent the last ten minutes wondering the same things you had, sharing the same worries. He flipped his hand, palm outstretched, waiting for you to slide yours into his.

Your thumb found the scar on the back of his knuckle, the small silver line that he got four summers ago, from helping a tiny Lucas Sinclair try archery for the first time.

So Steve kept one hand on the wheel and his other in yours, a small smile on his face that seemed so content, full of a fondness that rivalled the warm comfort of the wind in your face, the lavender shade of the sky, the way the moon was just starting to rise over the mountains in the distance.

Everything was tall trees and the distant trickle of a creek, a long road that turned to gravel and dirt and Steve. You held his hand all the way to the lake.

It was the same one you’d been to before, two years prior with Robin on a day off, Eddie and Steve trailing with you in a last minute change of plans. The last time you’d been on this shore, you’d had an odd realisation that you didn’t actually hate the boy you were supposed to hate. Now, as you toed off your shoes and stepped into the same sand, you were overcome with the urge to ask Steve if he still loved you as much as you loved him.

Anxiety rippled over you the same way the lake lapped at the shore, and you suddenly hated the silence you once cherished. You could hear the wind between the trees on the other side of the water, the quiet trickle of the creek that fed into it, the soft huffs of Steve breathing.

Neither of you said anything when Steve shrugged off his shirt, letting it drop at his feet. His shoes joined yours in a pile and you watched as he closed his eyes, just briefly, the stress leaving his body. His shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t prompt you into anything, but you pulled off your sweater too - Steve’s sweater - wiggling your hips until your sleep shorts fell and soon you were in your underwear, some cotton mismatched things that were less than enticing.

But it made Steve grin, the daisy print on your bra familiar, one he’d seen so many times before. His belt buckle clinked in the night and soon, his jeans were on the sand and he was hopping out of them as you laughed.

It was the most simple thing to do, to follow him into the water.

[SKINNY DIPPING BY SABRINA CARPENTER]

The night made the lake cooler, an inky navy thing that nipped at your skin for the first few seconds. But you let it swallow you whole, waist disappearing, shoulders dipping under, hair slicked back and eyelashes dripping beads of it.

Steve followed suit, a warmth underneath the water that your body recognised, his own hair clinging messily to his forehead as he ducked under the surface, hands brushing your ankles briefly before rejoining you. It went like that for a little while, the sky getting darker, the lake ready to copy. There were stars on the surface, a mirror-like reflection when you weren’t making ripples. So you swam circles around each other, Steve’s car parked up on the sand, the mountains in the distance, tall trees all around. There wasn’t a sound except the small splashes of water, the soft bubble of laughter when either of you swam too close and your shoulders bumped.

Steve ducked under one last time before he resurfaced, swiping at his hair before he took a breath and told you:

“Hopper offered me a job.”

You blinked at him, lips parting so you could start asking one hundred questions. But Steve beat you to it, treading water as he smiled a little shy.

“The whole, ‘Mr Harrington’ thing, that’s what that was about,” he shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. Water dripped from his chest, his neck, rolling into beads from his messy hair. “Uh, him and Murray, they’re opening this community centre for kids. S’gonna be a year round thing. After school, weekends. They, uh, they want me to manage it.”

You gaped at the boy before the smile you couldn’t contain started lifting the corners of your lips, a ridiculously happy thing that made your eyes crinkle and your cheeks ache. You thought about Steve - your Steve - running after kids all day, tired but content, paint stained and giving quiet pep talks, glitter in his hair as he clapped his hands and yelled for order.

“Steve,” your voice was almost too loud in the night. It shook, a trembling, overjoyed sound. You were so happy for him, even if you didn’t know what this meant. “You’d be perfect for it— if, if you want to take it, that is.” The unsaid hung between you, the elephant in the room that was the size of a whole other state.

Steve held your gaze and smiled nervously. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said slowly, realisation dawning on you. Things were starting to make sense now. But instead you said in a whisper, “that’s much closer than Arizona.”

Steve laughed softly as you tried not to sound hopeful, but there was a sticky, cloying ball of emotion stuck in your throat and it was barely holding back the tears. What you were almost crying for, you weren’t overly sure, but Steve moved a little closer, ankles brushing yours under the water. You could count the freckles on his nose by moonlight, you could see the faded green ink on his bicep from where El had tried to give him a ‘tattoo’ two days ago.

“It is,” Steve agreed and there was a smile on his lips, a barely there thing that you wanted to rub your thumb over. “It’s so much closer than Arizona. Like, thirty minutes on a good day.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what Steve was trying to say. Hope bloomed between every crack of your ribs like wildflowers and it was overwhelming, breath catching, it made you want to make a break for the shore and beg the boy not to crush your heart again.

“Steve—”

“I don’t want to go to Arizona,” he interrupted. “I never wanted to go to Arizona. I— fuck. You were right.”

You shook your head. “That’s not the point, I didn’t want to be proven right.”

“I know, but you were. It was all my dad,” Steve smiled and it was sad. “He came in one night after a day of golf and like, eight martinis. Told he spoke to an old friend and boom, handed me my whole future on a piece of fucking paper.” Steve laughed, dry and humourless and you moved closer still, close enough that your thighs grazed his and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “He didn’t even ask, you know? Just sat down at the dinner table and told me what I was doing for the next ten years of my life.”

You could imagine it. So easily. Michael Harrington’s imposing figure in a sharp suit and slicked back hair. You’d always wondered if it was once as wild as his son’s, if he ever liked the same music or spoke about movies and games with the boy. Michael Harrington was a straightened navy tie and a leather briefcase, polished shoes and numbers on a sheet.

“He told me he knew what was best for me,” Steve continued and his voice hit a crack that he didn’t even blink at. “He told me that he was my only chance and making something out of myself, that without his help, I’d spend my thirties and forties stacking shelves and regretting having a kid with you before we were twenty five. He told me I needed his help, even if I didn’t know it yet.”

Anger bubbled inside of you, intense and hot enough that you were surprised the water around you didn’t bubble and hiss. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “Steve, you know that’s not true right? Your dad— shit, Steve, when was the last time you ever needed your dad?”

You waited as the boy thought, confusion on his features as he struggled to recall a memory. Eventually, he shrugged. “When I was sixteen, seventeen maybe. Crashed my first car trying to show off to my friends. I was shit scared on the side of the road. Everyone else ran. I walked to a pay phone and told him I needed his help.”

You raised your brows, waiting.

“He told me to fix my own mess.”

More anger, a surge of it, pushing at your chest, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you shook your head, hands coming out of the water to finally touch Steve. You clung to his damp shoulders, still warm from the sun even now.

“You don’t need him,” you whispered fiercely. “You never needed him. Not then, not now, not for your future.”

The boy smiled, sad and tired, if not a little relieved. “I know that now.”

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” you swallowed hard, pride and stubbornness going down with it. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t make it easier for you, I was just so— so sad that you were going to give everything up for something you didn’t want.” You let your hand trail to Steve’s neck, thumb brushing the spot under his ear, an unbelievably soft touch. “You know I would’ve supported you completely if it was something you wanted to do, right?”

Steve nodded, his hands finding your waist, bringing you closer.

“But finance? Fucking finance?” You made a face and Steve barked out a laugh, a sharp bright sound in the dark and it made your chest ache, hearing such a happy noise from him.

He nodded again, humming in agreement before he gave in and hid his face in your neck. “Fucking finance,” he repeated. “I hate numbers.”

You laughed too, watery and happy at being so close. His touch was overwhelming, stubble on his jaw scraping at your throat, his lips ghosting at your jaw when he smiled. “I know you do,” you whispered and god, your voice was thick with affection.

There was more silence for a minute, a long, slow moment suspended in the water, holding each other, feet brushing the bottom, your arms wound around each other. An owl called out from a tree and somewhere in the distance, a car revved its engine.

“I took the job.”

You froze, unblinking, scared to move, scared to talk. Eventually, Steve lifted his head from your neck and he studied you, waiting for your response, cheeks pink and eyes nervous looking.

You wondered if your heart had stopped beating, if the world had stopped spinning. You couldn’t fathom another reason for the stillness you felt at his words. “What?”

The boy cleared his throat, his big hands squeezing gently at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the band of your soaked bra. “I took the job,” he said again, a look of amazement and incredulity on his features, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “I told Hopper yes.”

Those wildflowers? The ones filled with hope that had wound their way into your chest? They flourished, blooming bright and big until the garden grew and grew and your bones cracked with the enormity of it.

“Steve—” you tried to say more, but nothing came out.

“My dad didn’t take it all that well,” he shrugged, grinning now, like he was suddenly weightless. He looked brighter, even in the night. “Yelled a lot, but I think we’re gonna have a talk when I’m back, a good one, y’know? He didn’t seem as… fucking furious when I told him about the job.”

“In Shelbyville,” you said, like you need clarification. You wondered if this was a dream, a really mean one.

Steve laughed, grinning all pretty. “In Shelbyville,” he nodded, looking at you through his lashes, tired and happy and feeling like things might just be okay. He hoped they’d be okay. “C’mon, let’s get you dry and warmed up, yeah?”

So you let him lead you out of the lake, a blanket pulled from his trunk that the boy wrapped you in first. You let him rub at your shoulders, your chest against his, sand sticking to your feet, water dripping from Steve’s hair onto yours. You were staring at him, still shellshocked, eyes wide and disbelieving and it made him laugh; soft, sweet thing.

You dressed with eyes on each other, wandering, lazy, greedy, seeking out the bare skin that you’d missed touching, kissing. And when damp legs were pulled through shorts and Steve’s sweater was back on your frame, you crawled into the front of his car and let the boy pull your calves over the console and into his lap.

He traced shapes there, copied the constellations from above onto your skin, joining freckles and scars until they made up a Milky Way and you could let your head rest against the window, languid, happy. You weren’t sure what all of this meant for you and Steve, but you’d go back to your bed happy, knowing that Steve was.

“Shelbyville isn’t far from Hawkins,” Steve murmured softly, his cheek against the driver's seat, his eyes on you. He smiled, shy, unsure. “Maybe you could check it out with me after we get home.”

You smiled, tired, the night a yawning thing through the windscreen. It was nearing midnight, the moon above the mountains and the sand glittering on the car floor. “That sounds nice. You think you’ll move?”

Steve nodded, shrugged, nodded again. “Maybe? Eventually.” The boy swallowed, nervous. “Could find a house by a creek, big yard. Big enough for a dog.” He squeezed your knee, a longing touch. “A start of somethin’ new, maybe. Somewhere different. Us. If you’d want.”

You thought about it, about the savings you’d both piled together, the extra shifts, the clip outs of apartment listings in downtown Indianapolis neither of you really wanted but could just about afford. You thought about the late night talks with your cheek pressed to Steve’s pillow, trying to hide your smile as you both whispered about houses with flower boxes and a tree you could hang a swing from, maybe a porch, maybe a lake you could walk to on the weekends.

‘Are we fixed?’ You wanted to ask. ‘Were we broken?’ You wondered.

And maybe Steve could sense your questions, maybe he just knew you that well. His hand swept from your knee to your ankle, fingers curling around, warm and soothing. His thumb stroked over the top of your foot, playing with your untied laces.

“S’okay, if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know you’ve got your job in Hawkins, I know your family is there. I don’t— I don’t expect us to just, you know, act like nothing happened.” Steve didn’t sound as nervous as before when he said, “But I know I love you. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t— that’s not changed.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. You knew the boy still loved you. You saw it when he looked at you, when he frowned at Billy when he got too close, spoke too boldly . You saw it when you strayed too far, when he searched for you in the crowds of campers, when he helped your drunk self into his bed, when he refused to take his sweatshirt away from you. Still, relief flooded you and your breath hitched, emotion catching in your chest. You held out a hand, palm up on your lap, fingers spread for Steve’s to link between.

He let go of your ankle to do just that, fingers twisting, his thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. He looked just as hopeful as you felt as he gazed back, all shades of navy and lavender in the night.

It was too easy to say, “I know I love you, too.”

Meet Me In The Afterglow

[YOU’RE SO COOL BY HANS ZIMMER]

The last of the kids left Camp Upside Down the way they arrived: in a flurry of colour and sticky hands, forgotten backpacks left on porches, teary eyes as they hugged their favourite counsellors.

You were left behind with Steve as the rest of the staff left one by one, more hugs exchanged along with new email addresses and promises to visit different cities and states before Christmas. And when the parking lot was just settling from clouds of dust and dirt, Steve appeared from Hopper’s office, a small folder in his hands, signed contracts and a set of shiny new keys. He twirled them around one finger, a smile on his face he was trying to tamp down with a crinkle of his nose and you raised a brow at him.

“Hey, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve let out a low whistle, joining you in between your two parked cars. He leant against his BMW and made a show of looking you over. “Oh,” he grinned. “Say that again?”

You laughed, slapping at his shoulder before pinching the papers and stealing it from him. You looked over the print, smiling warmly at the official look of it all. Full time hours, managerial role, pension plan, holiday pay. Hopper and Murray’s signatures were at the bottom with Steve’s and you looked up at him and beamed.

“Are you happy?” You asked.

Steve seemed to consider the question for a moment or two before he nodded, hair falling into his eyes that he didn’t bother brushing away. He pushed himself off his car with a foot, taking the two steps it needed to lean in close to you instead. He brushed away an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder, took it as an excuse to brush his thumb across your neck, ‘cause two months apart made him feel like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore. But you did you both a favour and leaned into it, lashes fluttering when his big hand cupped your jaw. He let his thumb push softly against your bottom lip in lieu of a kiss.

“Yeah, I’m really happy, princess.” Steve let out a small laugh, a breathy thing full of surprise. “It’s stupid how I happy I am.”

You turned your head to catch his palm, pressing a soft kiss there that made the boy turn pink, a flash of affection warming his eyes and it only made him drop his hand from you to tug you closer, fingers catching the belt loops of your shorts.

“What ‘bout you?” Steve asked quietly. A hand crept up the side of your shirt, fingers seeking warm, soft skin and familiarity. “You happy?”

You nodded, pushing yourself closer to the boy, hands running over broad shoulders. It was easy to touch him again, even though your heart thundered like it was two summers ago and you were like a preteen with a crush. But you’d missed him too much to let that get the best of you.

“I’m happy,” you murmured. “We got jobs, roofs over our heads, friends, families that don’t wanna disown us—”

“Still to be determined,” Steve quipped.

You tutted. “It’ll be okay, handsome. And you’ve got me.”

Steve turned soft for you, brown eyes caramel and sugar, lips lifting back into a smile, thoughts of his parents forgotten. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. A promise. “Always got me.”

The words seemed to soothe him and if the birds above hadn’t stopped chirping at the right time, you wouldn’t have heard him whisper a ‘love you’ into your hair when he turned to kiss the side of your cheek.

“You’re gonna be a whole forty minutes away from me,” he grumbled, like it was an awful, awful thing. A hardship.

You were both - maybe more you - determined to take it slow before rushing back in. Steve asked you to help him find a new home, an apartment in Shelbyville, maybe even a small house. You’d agreed enthusiastically with the promise to talk about moving in together in six months or so. Despite the joy that leaked out of you like summer and warmth, there was a lingering sting of rejection in your chest. You knew it wasn’t the case, but you’d spent a while with thoughts that told you Steve picked Arizona over you.

“S’not far,” you told him. “I’ll stay over, you can come round on weekends, it’ll be great. We’re taking it one step at a time, remember?”

Steve stole a kiss, a barely there press because he was smiling too much. His contract was a crush of paper between you. “We’ll see.”

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Steve had found a house in Shelbyville that quickly became a home.

It was a small thing out by Big Blue River, a patch of land just outside of town where the river led into a creek and wild raspberries grew in the garden. You helped him move in, watched from your car as he hugged his mother and received a firm handshake from his dad. They didn’t help him into his new home, but they invited you both for dinner the following weekend, so it placated Steve enough.

So you spent days at your job in Hawkins, a bag of clothes always in your car so you could drive to Shelbyville after work, music blasting, engine sputtering. You’d take turns making dinner, cooking some pasta as Steve built a bookcase, a lopsided coffee table, hung up his favourite movie posters a little squint. But the house was filled with Steve and a little of you, photos of you and the boy dotted around the house, Polaroids of your friends stuck to the fridge with magnets.

It got harder to leave each time.

It got harder to leave when Steve kissed you senseless against your car in the evenings, a slow building, needy thing that came with wandering hands. It was lazy mornings with a shared pot of coffee, a bed with soft sheets that smelled like him and you, your body wash in his shower, your clothes in with his piles of laundry. It was long lies on the weekends with the promises of a walk along the river, lunch by the creek laid out on a blanket, the sun on your cheeks and Steve’s head resting on your lap as he made you laugh with stupid jokes.

Then one night your car broke down before you could make it out of the yard and Steve didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, humming thoughtfully. He was all hands, sneaking up your skirt, pushing back your hair, lips against your neck, soft enough to make you shiver.

“Guess you’ll just have to stay,” he murmured against your jaw.

You snorted, “I need my car fixed, Steven.”

A shake of his head, his lips still on your neck. “S’a piece of shit anyway, princess, been yellin’ you for years.” It was cheeky enough for you to pinch at his side but the boy only grinned and took your face in his hands, cradling your jaw. He turned a little more serious, smile still there, but his words were determined. “I’m serious, babe. Stay. Please.”

“I just stayed all weekend,” you told him, your fingers tracing patterns along his collar. Your heart was thundering. “You’re not sick of me?”

Steve tutted, acting up. “You know that’s not what I meant. Move in. I want you to move in.” He nuzzled your cheek with his nose, smelling like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “Wanna live w’you.”

So the next day Steve gave you the keys to his car and painted the bedroom your favourite colour. You told your parents, who were unsurprised, packing up bags and boxes with your things, a bubble of excitement in your chest that you didn’t think would pop anytime soon. The drive to Shelbyville from Hawkins was like the drive to camp, and the same anticipation of a new adventure was in the air. You drove down roads lined with tall trees, wheat fields that turned golden past the old water tower, the beginnings of Big Blue River greeting you at the bridge.

And when you turned down the dirt lane that took you to Steve’s house - your house - it felt more like home than ever. The shutters were painted sage green, the flower boxes beneath the windows filled with blooms, and the old oak tree round the back looked the perfect height for a swing. A dog didn’t greet you, not yet, but Steve did, with all the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever.

Neither of you bothered with your bags, not right away, because Steve was pulling you from the front seat with a smile on his face that rivalled the sun. Steve Harrington was summer and sunscreen and lakes at night. He was mountain hikes with sixty kids, he was car racing out of town, he was sneaking out, sneaking in, he was lemonade, he was broken kayaks and hiding in the gym, he was arguing, he was kissing to make up and everything you ever wanted.

He was yours.

And he was staying here.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot

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williamshamspeare · 2 years

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Hope you're reciving asks. I have been sendimg them. Anyway dya have any random info on adobe? Like. How she was with diego as mother, any favourite plces to travel, stuff like that cause im curious - amii

Well, there's a reason Diego's best memories reside with his father

#She likes to travel tropical. Anywhere where she can feel the sand between her toes #she also always secretly wanted to see Munchmore

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wheresarizona · 4 months

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Learning to Live Part 27

summary: Javier was warned by you that the place he chose to propose needed to be somewhere secluded because you’d be super horny afterward. What happens when you’re both super horny after he puts that ring on your finger? Let’s just say there’s no way in hell you’re making it back to your guest room at the Murphy’s, and you’re taking advantage of any time you have alone, even if it’s risky.

rating: E (18+!! This is basically porn with plot. It is horny. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), public sex, vaginal fingering, getting caught, oral sex (m & f receiving), road head, deepthroating, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), woman on top, anal play, dirty talk, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, spit mention, come eating, birth control discussion, wedding planning, feelings, Angry Javier Peña, Javier Peña in love, Javier saying romantic things, Chucho being the best supportive father, Chucho jonesing to have grandchildren)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 17.7k+

a/n: I have had a rough last couple of weeks, and the only thing that kept me from having a complete and total breakdown was writing about these two horny dummies. This chapter is unbeta’d, and any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @juletheghoul for ensuring the Spanish made sense and @theorganasolo for giving it a read.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The waves were roaring as they rolled and crashed toward the shore; some bird he couldn’t identify was squawking in the distance, the warm, humid air smelling like salt and brine. All of that was surrounding him, and the only thing Javier cared about was the woman moaning beneath him.

His fiancée.

She tasted like coffee and the sweetness of the berries and pineapple she had eaten earlier, tangling his tongue with hers. He held himself up with an arm beside her head on the blanket over the sand, giving himself enough space to work his other hand between their bodies and into her stretchy black leggings and panties. Two of his thick fingers were fucking in and out of her hot, wet cunt, his thumb on her swollen little clit, Javier swallowing her noises, knowing she was close with how tightly she was squeezing his digits.

Happy was an understatement for how he felt; he was on cloud nine, over the goddamn moon, on top of the fucking world—Javier had to be the happiest man on the entire planet because she said yes.

Yes!

She was wearing the ring, her fingers currently in his hair, and he was dying to be inside her.

There wasn’t any reason for him to be surprised by her answer, yet up until she said that three-letter word, there’d been fear in the back of his mind she’d say no. Which was ridiculous for him to even think, and he deserved it when she laid into him that she did say yes, and she was going to marry him.

He’d brought her to a little stretch of beach away from the high-traffic, touristy areas Steve and Connie had shown him years ago, so they’d have some privacy hidden away in their alcove, and since the lifeguards didn’t start patrolling until eight, there wasn’t much risk of anyone coming across them.

They didn’t get this far the first time they made out due to the interruption of her stomach growling and Javier stopping the heated kiss to insist that they eat breakfast, which they did as they watched the sun rise. Now, his cock was hard and straining in his jeans, arousal hot in his belly, working his fingers faster and making it a point to press into that spot that made her toes curl. Her muffled sounds got louder until her body was tensing, clamping down on his digits hard enough that he slowed his movements, working her through her climax with his thumb gently rolling over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

He nipped at her chin while she panted. “Good girl,” he purred, kissing a wet streak under her jaw. “Quiero hacerte el amor bajo el sol (I want to make love to you under the sun).” His words were said into her skin. “Quiero dártelo despacito mientras escuchamos las olas (I want to give it to you slowly while we listen to the waves). ¿Quieres eso (You want that)?” He sucked on her pulse point, and she moaned out yes, which might be his new favorite word.

All he needed to do was pull down her pants and underwear with how she was soaked and ready for him, and he’d be able to slide his dick inside the wet, snug heat of her pussy; Javier removed his hand from down her leggings, groaning as he sat up on his knees, his fingers going into her elastic waistband, starting to tug—

“Good morning, folks,” an unfamiliar masculine voice greeted.

Javier’s stomach plummeted, his heart pounding in his chest, and he immediately went on the defensive. His hands left her as his upper body twisted, and his head turned to glare at the interloper.

Fuck.

A small white truck was a little way away from them with Ocean Rescue in big blue letters on the side of it, a rack on the back with a long white paddleboard atop it, and a red lifeguard rescue tube hanging from it. A guy in his late twenties was in the driver's seat, his arm hanging out of the window, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, with floppy black hair and a clean-shaven face.

Javier cleared his throat, frowning.

“Good morning, sir...” he said.

Thank Christ, with how they were positioned, the younger man wouldn’t have seen anything; Steve would give him so much shit if he got arrested because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“It’s usually only surfers out this early.” The lifeguard smiled. “I just wanted to make sure everything is okay over here.”

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Ma’am,” the man said a little louder, “is everything okay over here?”

“Everything’s great!” Javier glanced over to see she was holding her thumb up.

“Awesome.” The guy in the truck focused back on Javier. “I hate being a buzzkill, man, and getting in the way of your fun, but it’s my job to remind you this is a public beach.”

“Right, yeah.” Javier scratched at the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

He waved away his apology. “Don’t sweat it. Just enjoy the rest of your day!”

“Yeah, you, too. Thank you.”

The other man nodded once, his attention going in front of him as he started driving, slowly making his way down the beach and away from them.

“Oh my god, Javier,” Cielito groaned. “That was too close.”

He faced her, seeing her hands covering her eyes.

“I’m sorry, mi amor (my love),” he said, checking his watch. “Fuck, I didn’t realize it was after eight.”

She looked at him with shock on her face. “How did we lose track of time? How long were we fooling around for?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed, pressing clean fingers to his forehead. “I got so fucking caught up in everything I forgot to pay attention to the time.”

There was rustling as she sat up, her hands rubbing along his biceps. “We both got caught up and forgot we had a time limit. On the bright side, he stopped us before you pulled your dick out or got my pants off, so he saved us from being arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Still coulda gotten us with a lesser charge for fucking around in public.”

She pulled his hand away from his face to make him look at her and the soft smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

“But he didn’t. So, why don’t we pack up and take this party back to the house where we can attempt a quickie without anyone knowing?” She wagged her eyebrows.

His cock twitched, gulping at the thought. “Or I could just fuck you in the back of the car?” That was a better option.

“You know how much I love car sex, and the SUV does have a lot of space in the backseat and those dark, tinted windows, but I think our public sex luck has run out for today. I can picture perfectly how giddy Steve would be if he had to bail us out of jail because we were caught having sex in public.”

The image of his best friend’s grinning face came to mind, and just the thought made his jaw clench and mouth turn down in a frown.

He sighed. “You’re right. Steve would never let me live it down. The house is a better idea.”

“I’m always right,” she said with a smile, lightly patting his cheek.

Javier snorted, leaning forward to kiss her. “You are always right,” he murmured against her lips.

He felt her smile. “You’re gonna be the best husband.” The fingers of both her hands slid into the hair above his ears, and, along with her words, he had a shiver moving down his spine, feeling himself melt under her touch.

“And you’re gonna be the best wife,” he said as they broke apart, and he took her left hand into his, seeing the ring on her finger, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it.

“Ugh, we need to leave right this second because it is essential I make you come.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes.

“Essential? What if we can’t sneak away from the Murphys? I’m sorry, baby, but you might have to wait until tonight to get me off.”

The wheels were turning in her head. She was thinking hard until she nodded to herself at figuring something out. “I’m gonna make you come.” It was stated as a fact. “Before tonight.”

His eyebrow rose. “Uh-huh, right, and how are you going to do that?”

The toothy smile on her face was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. “Oh, it’s a surprise.”

“It’s a surprise?”

“Yep.”

“No hints?”

“Nope.” She shook her head.

The most logical way for her to achieve her goal was to corner him in the bathroom back at Steve and Connie’s, but he didn’t think she’d be this excited about that. She had something else in mind, and he was curious what it was, finding her eagerness to get him off a major turn-on, as evidenced by the hard-on in his pants.

“I do like surprises,” he mused.

“You especially love sexy surprises, and I think you’re really going to like this one.”

“I know I will.” He caressed her cheek, memorizing how her face looked in the soft glow of the morning sun—breathtaking. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

It didn’t take them long to pack up the stuff he’d brought into the tote bag that included empty berry containers, a mostly drunk thermos of coffee, and two dirtied coffee mugs, folding the big blanket, too, and putting it all in the trunk of the rental.

Javier thought the smile on his face might be permanent, with how it wouldn’t go away. He opened the passenger door for her. “Your ride awaits, Mrs. Peña.” She took the hand he held out to help her up into the vehicle as she giggled.

“Future, Mrs. Peña,” she corrected as she sat down in her seat.

He took the step to have him next to her and bent to be at her eye level, gently turning her head with his fingers on her chin. “You said yes, and you’re wearing the ring—all that’s keeping you from legally being my wife is a ceremony and a piece of paper, but to me? I’ve already got it in my head that you’re Mrs. Peña, my wife, and people will know you’re taken just by looking at your hand.” He nodded toward her hands in her lap on top of his leather jacket.

“You love that.” Her smile was beaming.

“Love what?”

She held up her left hand. “That you put a ring on my finger so it’s clear I’m off the market and unavailable—you like that you’ve staked your claim.”

Now, that made him frown—he did love that the engagement ring broadcasted she was in a serious relationship, but he did not like the idea that it was him putting a claim on her like she was a piece of property.

An exasperated breath left her. “Let me rephrase,” she said, “because I can see it on your face—” She gestured at it. “—that you’re hating me objectifying myself. You like that I’m wearing something that shows I’m yours and have chosen to spend my life with you, and when we’re together, others will see it and know, too.”

He was smiling again, taking her left hand into his, the pad of his thumb feeling the smoothness of the gold band, then the ridges of one small diamond, two, the largest, and down to the smaller ones before it was smooth gold again, and rubbing back over it, over and over again, as he spoke. “Yes,” he said. “I love that you’re wearing this ring so I can see the proof every fucking day that you chose to marry me—” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Me. You’re marrying me, and just like how I can see the proof, everyone else can, too—they’ll know you’re mine, and I’m yours, and you’ve chosen me, and I can’t wait to wear my own ring to broadcast to the entire fucking world that I’m a married man and your husband.”

“God, you’re so fucking sweet—gold or silver?”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “Huh?”

“Your wedding ring. Gold or silver? Do you want diamonds on it? Or a different kind of gem? What are you imagining?”

“A gold band—nothing on it,” he answered immediately. “Gold that matches yours.”

Her eyes softened. “That makes perfect sense—something simple and classic.”

“Yeah, that’s all I need.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Now, let’s go, babe.” Her right hand brushed his bangs off his forehead. “You know how horny it makes me when you’re stupidly romantic, and I hate that you were cockblocked.”

He huffed out an amused breath. “I’m fine, mi amor (my love).” He gave her a quick peck on the lips.

Her hand moved from his face to the front of his jeans, Javier’s mouth falling open as she rubbed over his half-hard dick. “Sure, you’re fine,” she said. “Sure, you don’t care about not coming.”

There was a dull ache low in his gut from not getting off, and he swallowed hard at remembering her promise to make him come before that evening.

“Fuck, let’s go.” He kissed her quickly, grabbing her seatbelt and getting it around her body to buckle it in, kissing her one more time before he moved to shut the door, the dark window obscuring the view of her.

Cars were crowding the roads when they started heading back to the Murphys, the rush hour traffic making their commute much longer than the forty-five minutes it’d taken earlier that morning.

Javier fucking hated traffic, and it was one of the things he didn’t miss about Miami.

His jaw was clenched tight as they moved at a crawl down the highway with one hand on the steering wheel and his other in Cielito’s lap with their fingers intertwined, trying his best not to let his irritation of the other drivers sour their joyous day.

A candy apple red Mazda Miata with its top down almost hit their front bumper as it cut into their lane, causing Javier to slam on the brakes and lay on the horn. “Fuck!”

The guy in the car flipped him off, and his nostrils flared, his heart hammering, it taking everything in him to resist the urge to jump out of their Ford and kick the other man’s ass.

“Give me your cell phone,” his wife-to-be said.

He was seething, glancing at her. “What?” The word slipped through his teeth.

She let go of his hand to hold out her palm, looking at him expectantly. “Give me your cell phone, please.”

There was a deep frown on his face, his eyebrows dipped low, not wasting another second as he adjusted in his seat to easily pull the cell phone off his belt, passing it to her.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, looking over at her.

“Home,” she answered, her attention on the phone’s numbers under the protective case’s front plastic.

“Why didn’t you bring it?”

“Why would I need it? We’re gonna be together the whole time we’re here, and I kinda didn’t want anyone to be able to reach me unless it was an emergency, which, if that were the case, they’d know to call you.”

Her answer made him smile, liking that she didn’t want their time together to be interrupted. He watched as she pressed a number, then the call button to speed dial someone, the device going up to her ear.

Seconds later, she was laughing. “Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop),” she said, “me propuso matrimonio y yo dije que sí (he proposed to me and I said yes).” She giggled, and he was looking at the road again as he listened, not caring about the traffic anymore. “Creo que soy yo la afortunada y seria estúpida si hubiera dicho que no (I think I’m the lucky one and I would have been stupid if I’d said no). Javi es increíble y me hace la mujer más feliz del mundo entero (Javi is amazing and he makes me the happiest woman in the world). No sabes lo feliz que estoy de que me haya pedido que fuera su esposa (You don’t know how happy I am that he asked me to be his wife)... Eso es cierto, estabas asi de feliz cuando Antonia dijo que sí (That’s true, you were this happy when Antonia said yes). ¿No es la mejor sensación (Isn’t it the best feeling)? Apuesto a que Javi también lo está sintiendo (I bet Javi’s feeling it, too).”

“I am,” he said, his head turning toward her with a smile, warmth spreading through his veins. “Sí, lo soy (Yes, I am). Se siente increíble (It feels amazing).”

She grinned. “Sí, él también está muy feliz (Yes, he’s very happy, too),” she told his dad. Something she heard made her laugh, and Javier wished he knew what his father was saying.

“What did he say?” Javier whispered, focusing back on what was in front of him.

It had her switching to English, sounding amused. “We haven’t even been engaged a day, and you’re already asking about grandchildren.”

Of course, that was what his dad wanted to talk about. It made his heart speed up that this was the conversation that would determine if Cielito and he would start their family—she wanted to discuss living on the ranch with Chucho while their house was being built, something his father had already agreed to with him but hadn’t talked to her about yet.

A big smile was on her face as she spoke. “Yes, we will definitely be married before a baby is born… We haven’t had a chance to hash out the details of our wedding yet… Oh, of course, we have to do something at the ranch with Daphne and Velma—” Those were their two calves they lovingly called their bovine children. “—and we’d have to make sure Steve, Connie, and their family can be there…” Her tone shifted to something somber, and he quickly looked over to see she was frowning, and he matched her look. “It’s fine that you asked,” she said, “but, no, I wouldn’t want anyone from my family there; I don’t think they’d come if we invited them, and I’d worry they’d cause a scene if they did show up… You and the rest of the Peña’s are all the family I need…”

Javier’s heart squeezed, reaching over to rub her thigh. “I love you, too…” She grabbed his hand and held it, his dad making her laugh again. “Yes, yes, your nietos (grandchildren),” she replied in exasperation. “Javi said he talked to you… I know you’re excited, Pop…” She was smiling again. “You really won’t mind a crying baby?” Javier held his breath. “You’re sure?” Whatever his answer was, it had her giggling. “I’m going to remember you said that! Today, December 11th, at—” Her attention went to the clock radio. “—8:39 am Jesús Eduardo Peña Torres swore he wouldn’t mind his grandchild crying at all hours of the night and stated he would even assist in caring for the child to give his son and daughter-in-law breaks…” His father said something that cracked her up, saying through her laughter, “You’re going to put it in writing for us?!” Javier chuckled, thinking when they saw his dad next, he most likely would have something written up for them because he was that serious.

As much as he was loving the banter between his fiancée and father, he was dying to know if this had quelled her worries.

The bumper-to-bumper traffic was an afterthought as he glanced over at her. “How are you, uh, feeling?” he quietly asked.

Her bright, shining eyes met his with a grin on her beautiful lips, moving the phone away from her mouth to cover the speaker. She whispered, “Oh, it’s go time, babe. Like, I am going to be keeping you busy."

The smile on his face made his cheeks hurt, her answer causing arousal to burn low in his gut and blood to rush to his groin.

She was going to keep him busy trying to get her pregnant, and he was more than up for the challenge—his dick hardening at the thought.

Cielito uncovered the cell phone, saying to his father, "Yes, I'm still here; sorry, Javi had a question... Oh, of course." She was smiling. "I love you, too. Here he is." With that, she held the phone out toward him, and he took it.

"¿Bueno (Hello)?" he answered with the device at his ear.

"¿Le propusiste matrimonio durante el amanecer como hablamos (Did you propose during the sunrise like we talked about)?"

While his wif-fiancée was out with her best friend the previous weekend, he’d gone to the ranch to discuss his proposal idea with his dad since the elder Peña was a romantic like him and understood what he wanted to do.

"Sí (Yes)."

“¿Dijiste el gran discurso romántico que habías planeado pero que te negaste a practicar conmigo (Did you say that big romantic speech you had planned but refused to rehearse with me)?”

Javier sighed, remembering how his dad had needled him to say it—the only reason he didn’t was because of how intimate and personal it was, and he only wanted his intended to hear it.

“Más o menos (More or less),” he answered. “Acabo de decir lo que se sentía bien y vino del corazón (I just said what felt right and came from the heart).”

“¿Y a ella le gustó mucho (And did she like it a lot)?

“Ella dijo que sí, así que supongo que si (She said yes, so I guess she did).”

“¡Esi es, mijo (That’s it, son)! Sabes, recibes tus genes románticos de mí (You know, you get your romantic genes from me).” Pride was in his tone. “No tengo duda de que lo que dijiste fue hermoso (I have no doubt that what you said was beautiful). ¿Le gustó el anillo (Did she like the ring)?”

His head turned and looked at it on her finger.

“Le encanta el anillo, especialmente porque era de mi mamá (She loves the ring, especially because it was my mom’s). Ella estaba conmovida que le dejaste tenerlo (She was touched you let her have it). Eh—” Their SUV was moving at a slow roll, and his head moved away from her, switching ears as he said, hopefully quietly enough that she wouldn't hear, "¿Es normal que haya mucho llanto (Is it normal for there to be a lot of crying)..?"

Chucho laughed. "Sí, Mijo (Yes, Mijo). Eso es bueno (That’s good). Tu madre también lloró cuando le propuse matrimonio (Your mom also cried when I proposed)—Incluso yo también lloré (I even cried).”

“Yo también (I did, too)."

"No hay nada de malo en eso (There is nothing wrong with that). Estoy muy feliz por ti, Javi, y orgulloso de ti (I am so happy for you, Javi, and proud of you). Vas a ser un esposo increíble (You’re going to be an amazing husband)."

The praise had a lump forming in his throat.

"Gracias, Pop (Thank you, Pop)."

"No, gracias, Mijo (No, thank you, Mijo). Has traído a una mujer maravillosa a nuestra familia y me encanta tener una hija (You've brought a wonderful woman into our family and I love having a daughter). Sería aún mejor si también tuviera algunos nietos (It would be even better if I also had some grandchildren)."

Javier sighed. "Lo sé, lo sé (I know, I know). Quieres a tus nietos (You want your grandchildren). Bueno, tendrás que esperar porque no es algo que sucede asi tan rapido (Well, you're going to have to wait because it's not something that happens overnight)."

"Lo siento por ser tan agresivo (I’m sorry for being pushy). Es que estoy emocionado (I’m just excited). ¿Ayudó mi conversación con ella (Did my talk with her help)?"

"Sí (Yes). Gracias por quedarte en casa hoy (Thank you for staying home today)."

"No quería perderme tu llamada (I didn't want to miss your call)."

"Lo aprecio mucho, Pop (I appreciate it a lot, Pop)."

"De nada, Javi (You're welcome, Javi). Sabes que haré cualquier cosa por ustedes dos y sus futuros hijos (You know I'll do anything for the two of you and your future kids). Ustedes significan todo para mí (You all mean everything to me)."

Javier knew his dad was telling the truth, and it made his eyes burn with unshed tears.

"Te amamos (We love you)."

"Yo también te amo (I love you, too)."

He didn't want his emotions to get the better of him when they should be celebrating.

“We'll see you Sunday,” he said in English.

"Yes, you will. I can't wait to get a picture of you and her with the engagement ring for my photo album. We're going to have a great dinner."

"Yeah, we will. I'm gonna get going. I'll let you know when we get home from our trip."

"Thank you. Congratulations, Mijo. I'm going to take some flowers to your mom and tell her the news. I love you—I love both of you, and your mother does, too."

The mention of his mom had foggy memories of his dream from the night before coming back to him, only recalling bits and pieces of it, but he knew his father was right—she did love them.

"Thanks, Pop. I love you, too. Bye."

"Bye, Mijo."

He pushed the end call button, moving it to his other hand. Beneath the car's stereo and temperature controls was a slot where he put the cell phone.

"Well," Javier started, reaching over to grab her hand, "I wouldn't be surprised if he had our wedding planned by dinner Sunday." He brought her hand up while he looked over at her and kissed the center diamond.

She giggled. "I'm pretty sure he started planning our wedding when we first got together, which, oh my god, how long has he known you were going to propose on this trip?"

"The first week of November. Why?"

His eyes were back on the road, keeping her hand in his palm, his thumb rubbing over the ring.

"Because over the last month, when it'd just be your dad and I talking, he was fishing for info on my dream wedding—I didn't think anything of it 'cause it's been set in stone for a long time that we're going to get married and I figured he was just being proactive."

Javier was frowning, feeling a twinge of annoyance that his dad could've ruined his plans.

"I'm glad it didn't tip you off..." he grumbled.

"Hey, don't be upset with him! He's our biggest supporter. He's invested in our relationship like we're Buffy and Angel or a couple in one of your tías telenovelas!"

His eyes narrowed. "He finds our relationship... entertaining?"

There was a lot of drama between couples in telenovelas, and he guessed they'd been through some shit in their relationship. She'd explained that vampire slayer show to him and made him watch some episodes, and knew Buffy and Angel didn't have an easy time being together.

"No, he doesn't find our relationship entertaining," she replied. "We're his favorite couple. He thinks we're meant to be together and wants our relationship to succeed more than anything."

"Oh."

"Yeah." There wasn't too much space between them, a small console keeping their seats separated, and she leaned over, her free hand reaching across her body to rub over his pec. "It's very sweet. There's something else I want to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" He turned on his blinker and looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot before merging into the next lane, where cars were moving a bit faster.

"Yes, babymaking."

Air hissed out of him at the sharp spike of arousal that cut through him.

He licked his lips. "What, uh, about it?"

"Our sex life is fucking amazing, and I don't want us to lose our spark and for it to become a chore; yes, we basically only have one shot a month, and we'll have to really go to town, but I want us to enjoy ourselves and fuck for pleasure, not for the sole purpose of reproducing."

Looking over at her with a smile, he said, "Yeah, that sounds good. I wouldn't want it becoming a chore, either."

She smiled. "I'm glad that's agreed upon. There's something else I need to tell you."

"Okay?"

"You know how we got up insanely early yesterday, too?"

That was when they traveled to Miami, and they'd woken up at 4 am to make their 6 am flight from Laredo to Dallas/Fort Worth.

"Yes?" He was paying attention to driving again.

"Well, apparently, in the hecticness that was making sure we had everything before we left the apartment, checking us in when we got to the airport, boarding the airplane, traveling, boarding another plane, and getting to Miami, it kinda, sorta, slipped my mind to take my birth control..."

His eyes went big, his head snapping toward her.

"What?"

"I know. I can't believe I forgot and just about had a heart attack this morning when I saw the pill in my pack—I had to make a choice."

"What choice?" he asked.

"It was either I take yesterday's and today's pills, or I take neither."

"What did you choose?" he breathed out the question. He thought his heart might thump right out of his chest, looking forward once more.

"Well, based on the fact that I showered after each time we fucked yesterday, and there's still come inside me, and we've agreed to a baby, I just said fuck it and threw away the entire pack."

His brain short-circuited, it taking him a little longer than usual to process what she said, and needing to make sure he understood her correctly.

"You're no longer on birth control..?"

"Nope," she said with a pop of the 'p.'

"I could get you pregnant?"

"Yep." The word popped from her mouth.

"Fuck." Blood was rushing to his dick, remembering how he had come inside her twice the day before. What if he’d already knocked her up?

She removed her hand from his, her upper body turned toward him and close while she rubbed along his inner thigh, making him gulp.

"Do you like that?" she purred.

Both of his hands were on the steering wheel now, squeezing so tight the leather creaked.

He cleared his throat. "You know I do."

She palmed his swelling cock, and his mouth fell open.

"Yes, you do. It's too bad we're gonna get back to the house and won't be able to lock ourselves away in the guest room and fuck for hours. Just imagine fucking me over and over again to keep me all nice and full."

Now, it was all he could think about. He was fully hard, and he hated that they wouldn't be able to do just that. How was he supposed to enjoy the rest of their trip when he was so fucking horny?

"How long until we get back to the Murphys?" she asked.

It took him a second to register her question; his brain was stuck on imagining fucking her in a myriad of positions and finishing inside her each time.

He glanced at the clock, then the cars in front of them, and the sign on the side of the highway for where they were. "Uh, maybe forty/forty-five minutes." And then they wouldn't be alone until later that night, which made his mouth turn down, annoyed. "Why would you put that shit in my head?" he groused.

Sure, they could try to slip away to be alone; however, he had his doubts that they’d have enough time to fuck. They didn't have an excuse like they did yesterday of needing a nap and shower after traveling. The kids would want their attention—Steve and Connie sure as fuck would notice if they disappeared for an extended amount of time in their home, and his best friend would happily interrupt if he had a chance, like when he banged on the wall the night before when they were trying to have sex in that goddamn squeaky bed.

"Because," she answered, "I want you to be so horny you'll let me suck your dick right this second."

His cock jerked hard in his jeans as he groaned.

"I thought you said our public sex luck had run out?"

"Our stationary public sex luck has run out, but now we're moving in a dark windowed vehicle. So, if you want and think you can handle it, I'll suck you off to take an edge off of how unbelievably horny you are—which you're at the grumpy stage of being unbelievably horny, and I'd prefer getting you in a better mood, so you're not too mean to Steve."

She was right. He was unbelievably horny.

"Okay, yes, please."

The sight before him was miles upon miles of cars and a sea of glowing red rearview lights, the tall buildings in downtown Miami jutting high in the sky off in the distance to the left. They were moving slowly and steadily down the road.

Her seatbelt clicked as she unbuckled herself, shuffling to get her knees on her seat, leaning over the small, low center console, his hand closest to her moving to rest on her shirt-covered back to give her room to work open his belt and jeans.

The metal of his belt buckle rattled, and she quickly popped open the button on his pants, lifting his hips instinctively for her fingers in the denim waistband to tug them down far enough to free his throbbing dick and heavy sack; his jeans pulled taut as they stretched across his spread thighs.

He looked down to watch her spit in her palm, the ruddy tip of him shining with precum. She took him in hand, and he gasped, her head tilting up to meet his gaze. Reaching, he squeezed a handful of her ass.

"I know you love watching, but I need you to be a good boy and keep your eyes on the road." He swallowed hard. "Just know I've wanted to do this since the beach, and I'm happy you're finally letting me—my panties are drenched."

"Jesus Christ," he said on an exhale, looking forward at the sports car they were slowly following. "I love you so fucking much." Both of his hands went to the steering wheel, keeping them at ten and two.

"I love you, too, and if it becomes too much, you're allowed to tap out."

"I know."

She licked a broad stripe from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the head, making Javier groan as she pressed into those sensitive spots that made sparks dance along his spine. Pleasure had ignited in his belly, her lips wrapping around him and taking him into the hot, wet heat of her mouth, his jaw dropping and hands making the leather screech with how tightly he was squeezing the steering wheel.

The vibrations of her moans had the fire rapidly building in his gut, loving how he could hear how much she was enjoying herself.

She spit on the head of his cock, following it with her mouth, bobbing up and down, taking more and more of him until he was hitting the back of her throat, and it had him panting when she swallowed around him to take him down into the tight space.

"Oh, fuck, baby," he moaned, his toes curled in his boots. "That's so fucking good."

It did feel good, but what would be even better was if he could fuck her—he was greedy. She was giving him a fantastic blow job, and all he could think about was how he wished he was inside her—that it was the wet heat of her pussy enveloping him right now.

Yeah, she was on her way to getting him off—she was now wetly stroking him while her head dipped down so she could lick at the thin skin of his balls—but no matter how much pleasure she was bringing him, there was still an undercurrent of irritation from being interrupted that morning when he was trying to get into her pants.

This might not have been the best idea when the car behind them honked because he was going too slow; Javier immediately sped up.

She was right.

She could take the edge off of how horny he was by making him come with her mouth; he just hated he couldn't fuck her until later that night.

Add in the fact she accepted his proposal and told him she wasn't on birth control anymore, and it was killing him he had to wait to have sex with her. She put it in his head about fucking her for hours, and he was annoyed it wasn't something he actually had the means to do with them being on a trip.

If it was his choice and he knew they could get away with it, he’d lock them away in the guest room when they returned to Steve and Connie’s and spend as much time as he could between his future wife’s legs.

She had him back down her throat, humming around him, and he felt his eyes beginning to roll back in his head—a horn blared behind them again, this time the car speeding to pass around them, the traffic finally letting up, and the vehicles moving at regular speeds. It pissed him off, turning on his blinker and looking over his shoulder as he moved over into the far right lane for slower traffic, hoping people would leave them the fuck alone.

He was close, his heart beating rapidly, and dick swallowed down deep in her throat while her hand fondled his sack, it adding fuel to the burning fire in his gut, the muscles starting to tighten—at the thought of finishing in her mouth, he frowned.

A sign on the side of the road caught his attention, showing some places off the next exit that gave him an idea. Glancing at the clock on the stereo, he made a decision.

Or, more accurately, his dick made a decision.

"Don't make me come."

His sentence came out strained, his big hand on the back of your head and his hard cock nestled in the tight confines of your throat. Tears were streaming from the corners of your eyes at suppressing your gag reflex, saliva dripping down your chin.

What he said made your eyebrows furrow, humming, 'What?' around him.

You could hear the blinker clicking, his long arm reaching to grab some of your ass.

"Don't make me come," he said again.

With how he was panting and his tense thighs, you knew it wasn't going to take much more to finish him, and you didn't understand why he wanted you to stop, coming off of him with a gasp, a string of spit keeping you connected.

Your breaths were labored, sitting up to look at him.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

He looked at you with a smirk, his face flushed.

"I'm fucking amazing," he answered.

His dick was slick as your hand languidly jerked him, easily moving up and down the velvety skin.

"...and you don't want to come..?" It made no sense. You knew how horny he was.

"I want to come." His eyes went to the road. "I just don't wanna come in your mouth." He seemed to be looking for something outside, his head moving forward with squinted eyes, and your face turned to see where you were, finding that he was taking you down a busy city street lined with stores, restaurants, and motels.

"Um, what's your game plan here, babe?" You were beyond confused. "We're not back in Laredo, where you have your secret sex spots around town." There were different secluded places Javi had found in his younger years to park his truck and fool around with girls. "This seems too risky."

The buildings were getting nicer and newer the closer you got to the towering buildings of downtown.

"We're not doing anything risky, mi amor (my love). Especially not after this morning. Trust me."

The blinker ticked as he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel that was by far the fanciest you've driven past so far, but definitely not a five-star establishment—maybe three if you had to guess while the others had been ones and twos.

"You're joking," you said. "We're not getting a hotel room and abandoning your friends."

He parked in a spot facing the road and turned off the engine, wiggling in his seat as he got his jeans up.

"We're not staying here for the night," he said, watching as he tucked his still-hard cock into the waistband of his pants he buttoned and buckled, covering it with the bottom of his white button-up shirt.

"This isn't the kind of place that rents by the hour, Javi. We passed those, and I don't get why we didn't stop at one if we're planning to fuck for an hour or two."

His eyes met yours as he frowned. "I'm not taking the woman I love, my fiancée, to a seedy motel. You deserve better, so I don't give a fuck if this place doesn't rent by the hour, I'm getting us a room no matter how much it costs, and I'm going to fuck you for a couple of hours because I swear I'm going to go fucking crazy if I don't come inside your pussy in the next twenty minutes."

What he said had you clenching hard around nothing, completely down for his plan. There wasn’t anything for you to wipe your face off with, so you settled on using your shirt to get the spit and tears off your skin, not caring about the dark splotches on the coral-colored fabric when you were done.

"Let's go," you said, grabbing your purse from the floor and getting out of the SUV.

Javi met you at the back of the vehicle and grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as he briskly walked toward the entrance.

“I love that you’re comfortable enough in your masculinity to admit you’re not gonna last and didn’t lie to me about how you were gonna rock my world or some shit.”

He looked over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. "Who said I'm not gonna rock your world? Yeah, the first round might be quick, but it's still gonna be good for you, baby." He ended the sentence with a wink, which had your skin heating. Javi focused on what was in front of him as you walked through the doors that automatically slid open upon your approach.

He wasn't joking when he said he didn't care about the cost—it was a Friday during the busiest travel season of the year, and you hadn't booked ahead; you were lucky they even had a room available. There was no hesitation when they told him the obscene price for one night, and he handed over his American Express credit card. His black leather wallet was in one hand, the fingers of the other tapping impatiently on the marble countertop while he waited for the worker to finish the transaction.

He didn't read over any of the paperwork he scribbled his signature on, and once they told him the room number and handed over the keycard, his hand was taking yours to quickly lead you to the elevator the hotel employee had pointed out.

The room was a queen suite with the typical bedroom furniture—a bed, nightstands, dresser, TV, as well as a sitting area that consisted of a couch and coffee table, a desk on the opposite wall, beside a mini fridge with a microwave atop it.

There wasn't much time to take in the details because the moment Javi got the door open, he was dragging you in and kicking it closed as his mouth collided with yours in a hard and searing kiss, palming your ass with one hand, an arm around your back guiding you further into the room.

The keycard got tossed onto the desk, along with your purse, his tongue eagerly pressing between your lips. Arousal was burning in your belly, your fingers working open the buttons of his shirt while he walked you toward the bed that was in the far corner and felt like it was miles away.

The tension that had built up since your morning liaison had been interrupted was so thick it was palpable enough to be cut with a knife. There was desperation in your kisses, feeling his need with every hungry press of his lips to yours; relief as you removed each other's clothes, that you were finally somewhere you didn't need to worry about how loud you were or anyone bothering you; overwhelming happiness over the day's events and eagerness to make use of the perfect, not-absurdly squeaky, queen-size bed.

The two of you were naked in record time, and after Javier pulled off the ugly red and green floral printed bedspread to fall into a pile on the floor, he was facing you, his hard dick bobbing between his legs, with a look on his face that promised trouble.

"No," you said.

That just made him grin and move quicker as he replied, "Yes," his arms getting around you as you laughed. He used that impressive strength he developed from doing manual labor on his father's ranch to toss you onto the mattress, where you bounced a few times, the springs complaining under your weight—Javi quickly followed, finding yourself with a sizable man on top of you, his hips nestling in their home between your thighs while his lips found yours once more.

His hair was soft between your fingers, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly.

You spoke between kisses. "You just love… throwing me like… a sack of potatoes."

You felt his mouth curve into a smile. "Yes."

"One of these days… you're gonna… throw out… your back."

He nipped at your lip, pulling back to look at you with a grumpy expression. "I'm not gonna throw out my fucking back—I'm used to hauling around calves and bails of hay. Tossing you around is nothing."

"Okay, Hercules. Now, how do you want me?” You held his cheeks. “Missionary? Doggy? Cowgirl? Reverse cowgirl? From the side? In your lap? What are you feeling? 'Cause you weren't the only one cockblocked this morning, and I would really like to get fucked."

"Do you wanna come on my fingers again? Or my mouth?"

"Nope.” You smiled. “Dick, please."

He crookedly smiled. "I love you so fucking much."

"A girl tells you she wants your dick, and you proclaim your love—how romantic."

"My wif-fiancée," he quickly corrected, "tells me she wants my dick when I'm dying to be inside her—I'm gonna proclaim my love for her. Hell, I wanna propose to you again."

You giggled. "The power of my pussy,” you said, pulling him down for a brief kiss, your eyes on his when you separated. "And I love you, too. Position?"

He gave you a quick peck. “You’ll see,” he said and started getting up, a pained groan leaving him.

Sitting up on your elbows, you watched as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed by you with his feet easily planted on the floor. With where he was on the mattress, you had a view of his profile, taking in the curve of his nose and his plush, pillowy lips, watching him spit on his fingers that he curled around his shaft, hearing the wet strokes as he slicked himself up.

His head turned to you. “Move your legs.”

He wanted to lie back, and it made you smile as you moved them out of his way and got up on your knees. “I’m riding you,” you said.

Javi was lying on his back with his long legs bent at the knees along the edge of the bed while his feet touched the ground, and his ass settled a little over halfway to the middle of the mattress.

He was looking at you with a smile. “Yeah—get on, mi amor (my love).”

“My ride awaits?” you asked, tossing him a few pillows, Javi putting one under his head as you shuffled toward him.

“My dick awaits.” And it was, his cock resting against his stomach in the hair below his belly button, shining from his saliva in the dim light coming from over by the door.

“Yes, it is.” When you went to straddle him, his hand on your thigh stopped you.

“Other way,” he said.

A toothy smile appeared on your face. “Reverse cowgirl.” You turned around with your back to him, getting your leg over his hips. “I’m surprised you’re putting me in charge,” you said, keeping a hand on his thigh for balance while the other went between your legs to grab his hard length. “I’d think with how horny you are, you’d wanna just fuck my brains out.” Slotting him at your entrance, you didn’t draw things out and sunk down, matching moans coming from you both as he stretched your tight walls, and you took him all the way down to the hilt.

His hands were on your hips, holding you flush against him.

"Don't move," he said through his teeth, his cock twitching inside you.

You were leaning forward with your palms on his thighs for leverage.

"I won’t—god, you feel so good inside me, Javi. I love you.”

"You feel so good around me." He already sounded wrecked.

It took a minute before his fingers loosened their grip.

"Monta me (Ride me)." He smacked the side of your ass. "Monta me, mi Cielito (Ride me, my Cielito). Mi amor, mi vida, mi prometida (My love, my life, my fiancée). Haznos venir (Make us come)."

At the order, you started moving, rising on your knees until only the tip of him remained inside and falling back down, over and over again, at a steady pace.

"I fucking love you," he groaned. "Fuck, you look so good." His hands squeezed your asscheeks, spreading them and helping you bounce. "This ass—fucking love this ass bouncing on my dick." He gave it a spank; his voice was tight like it was taking everything in him to keep himself from coming. "Love this pussy; this perfect pussy—I was made for this pussy.” His breaths were loud, and you knew if you looked at his face, it’d be screwed up like he was in pain with his eyebrows pulled together and teeth bared.

“Javi,” you moaned when his thumb slid through your wetness up his cock to press to your asshole, circling the tight ring of muscle, something blissful curling inside you.

“I'm gonna marry you,” he continued. “I wanna give you my last name. Shit," he hissed and audibly gulped. "You’re off your birth control. You're gonna make me come, and I could get you pregnant."

Obviously, he was loving the visual of seeing your ass move up and down as you worked yourself on him—and you were loving the things he was saying, so much so it had a wave of arousal dripping down his cock and making it slicker where you were joined.

Heat had started forming at the base of your spine, your slick walls hugging his dick, spearing into you and fitting so perfectly, each stroke felt like nirvana.

"I'm gonna keep you full of my come today," he gritted out. "Gonna fuck you as many times as you'll let me to keep you stuffed."

A shock of pleasure in your tummy made you clench hard around him and stuttered your rhythm.

"You think you'll knock me up?" you panted.

"I know I'll knock you up—if not today, maybe tomorrow or the next day. I'll fuck a baby into you, eventually."

It was a promise, and it thrilled you.

Your breaths started coming out heavier, feeling the threads of your orgasm beginning to wind. Your brows were furrowed as you concentrated on your movements, breathily moaning.

As incredible as this felt, just the penetration wouldn't get you off; you needed more—it was loud between your legs, hearing his cock wetly working in and out of your pussy, the bed’s springs softly squeaking beneath you, rough sounds coming from Javi’s throat, and softer ones slipping past your lips, the air conditioner, below the window, loudly thrumming in the background.

"Fuck, lay back," he said. "I'm too fucking close."

It took a little maneuvering to get your legs out in front of you while keeping his dick in place and lying back so your spine was to his chest. You ended up leaning a little to the left, so your head rested beside his on two stacked pillows. His fingers dug into your waist, and he started thrusting up from beneath you, the new angle making his cock press into spots that had stars bursting behind your closed eyelids and his name leaving your lips in a hedonistic chant that seemed to only get louder as the seconds passed.

This was on par with how you expected he'd fuck you when you got into this room, his feet planted and giving him the traction he needed to push up his hips and fuck into you hard and fast, his dick never more than halfway out of you.

He was grunting in your ear, the pleasure in you building, hearing the slick slide of him fucking in and out of you. Your hands had grabbed onto his forearms for something to hold onto, your fingernails, no doubt leaving behind crescent moon indents in his skin.

And since Javi knew your body like the back of his hand and how to play you like a goddamn fiddle, he licked two of his fingers and pressed the pads to your perky little clit, circling it just the way you liked while his other hand massaged your breast before his digits were tweaking your stiff nipple.

"Need you to come for me," he grunted. "I wanna feel my fiancée come around my dick. I need you to squeeze me, so I can fuck you full of me—need to fill you up."

The muscles in your abdomen began to wind up tight; the onslaught of his cock pistoning into you, his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and your nipple being pinched and rolled had you soaring toward your end.

"Oh god," you whined through hard breaths, "I'm gonna come—you're gonna make me come."

"Let go, mi amor (my love)," he said. "Come for me, baby."

The tension built inside you until you were cresting, coming with a shout, your body tensing up and pussy clamping down on him so hard it sent him with you. Javi pushed up into you as deep as possible, a low, dirty moan leaving him as his dick jerked hard, and you felt the pulse of spurts and spurts of his come painting your walls.

Pleasure had overtaken every molecule in your body, your breaths panting from your lungs, and your heart thudding a mile a minute, not bothering to fight it when you went completely lax and became a dead weight atop your future husband. You welcomed the sweaty arms that wrapped around your middle, and turned you onto your sides without dislodging himself inside you, your hand going back to push into his damp hair, his face nuzzling at the back of your neck.

There was a stillness to the room as your hearts slowed together and breaths evened out, the hum of the air conditioner’s motor the loudest sound. Calm had washed over you both; peace, relief—for the first time since you were back home, you could actually relax. There was no fear that someone heard you or you were too loud. Instead, you were able to bask in the post-coital glow when the two of you never felt closer and more connected.

Minutes pass, and in the distance, you hear the occasional door slamming and voices passing by your rented room, fading away as quickly as they came.

"What's your dream wedding like?" Javi asked, ending the long, comfortable silence.

“You know how women say they’ve been dreaming about their wedding since they were little girls?”

"Yeah?"

"I don't know what kind of childhoods they had, but weddings never crossed my mind as a kid aside from when we had to go to one, and they were really fucking boring to me.” Javi snorted. “There was maybe one time I thought about my own nuptials, and it was in my early teens at my cousin's wedding that was insane. There were over two hundred people in attendance at some swanky venue, with expensive food and booze—think steak and lobster, a raw oyster bar, and Dom Pérignon; they went all out, and my mother made this comment about how so many of the guests would come to my future wedding—and she didn’t mean our family members; she was talking about the wealthy friends of our family I barely knew and the rich acquaintances my parents just wanted to rub elbows with.”

“You hated that,” he said, kissing your bare shoulder.

“I fucking hated it and was not okay with the idea that one of what was supposed to be the happiest days of my life would be hijacked to keep up appearances.”

“Sounds fucking miserable.”

“Right? I don’t want a big wedding. I don’t like being the center of attention, and I know I seem pretty confident, but I actually get awful stage fright. So, I don’t think I want a small wedding either. My dream wedding is you and me going to the courthouse with your dad and Robyn as witnesses and eloping, then afterward, we throw a big party to celebrate with our friends and family—that just sounds nice to me.”

His lips pressed to your neck.

"What about you?" you asked. "How do you imagine your dream wedding?"

His arms around your belly squeezed a little tighter.

"My dream wedding is whatever you want it to be."

"As sweet as that is, it's your special day, too. And you're a big 'ol sap, so I know you've got something in mind.” Your fingers scratched lovingly at his scalp.

"I don't want a big wedding, either.”

“I am well aware.”

Years and years ago, his wedding with Lorraine was going to be the biggest in Laredo that year since her dad was the mayor and her family was well-known and the wealthiest in town—which was a huge reason why it was well over seventeen years later, and people still talked about Javier leaving her at the altar.

“Yeah, I guess you are—I love you.” He held you closer.

“I love you, too, baby,” you said.

“You wanna know how I picture our wedding?” he asked. “You know the tree on the hill out on Pop's land, I take you to watch the sunset?" It was the place where you told him you knew he loved you before he ever said the words and somewhere you’d returned many times after.

"I'm very aware of the spot. We ride out there all the time." Him on his horse, Sombra, and you on his cousin's, Dulce. Javi was more than happy having you on his horse with him, but you had asked him to teach you how to ride by yourself, and he did. You quite enjoyed being able to do it on your own.

His finger started skating along the skin of your belly, drawing random shapes.

“I like to imagine us at the tree as the sun sets with my dad officiating—he’s holding his bible, and I know we’re not into that shit, but it’s Pop, and he’d give it his all, including a scripture or two, and a photo of mi mamá (my mom) he’d hold under his fingers to the cover of the book so she’s there with us, too, and Seb and Robyn would come as our only two witnesses.” His cousin, and your best friend/co-worker, who were dating.

You could picture it perfectly, standing there beneath the old oak tree’s tall, twisting limbs and canopy of green leaves with Javi’s big hands holding yours as you said your vows and intertwined your lives with an exchange of rings, the sky exploding in color from the setting sun.

"Your dream wedding is just a stupidly romantic version of my dream wedding,” you said. “How dare you out-dream wedding me!"

He chuckled, sitting up a little and using his hand to turn your head by the chin so he could lean over and kiss your cheek. "I told you my dream wedding is whatever you want it to be.” He nuzzled against your face. “I don’t think I’ve told you this,” he said. “Sunrise and sunset used to be nothing more than the beginning and end of my day when I worked on the ranch, and then I met you—the sun would rise, and it meant another day with you in my life, and the beauty of it took my breath away. And sunsets? They’ve never been prettier—they’re gorgeous, and I want to share every sunrise and sunset with you for the rest of my life.”

You flipped over, and it had him slipping out from between your legs, a low hiss coming from his mouth.

"Sorry," you said, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddled his hips, and laid chest to chest with him. Your face hovered over his with your arms holding yourself up beside his head, ignoring his come oozing out of you. His eyes were squeezed shut as you stared at him. "I’m gonna marry you so hard, you sweet, adorable, romantic man—you said your dream wedding is whatever I want it to be, and now it’s your stupidly romantic wedding at our tree during sunset."

His eyelids blinked open, and he smiled crookedly.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." You nodded. "Is your dad even ordained?"

He had a thoughtful expression. "I don't think so? But I read you can get ordained online, and it's not difficult to do. We can ask him if he'd want to."

Your face softened. "You know he'd love to."

He was smiling. "Yeah, he would."

The look on your face shifted to something mischievous. "And if he says no, we can just ask Steve to do it."

His features scrunched into something annoyed, and a hand slapped your ass hard, making you laugh.

"Over my dead body," he said. "He's not doing our fucking wedding ‘cause he’d say embarrassing shit and ruin everything. If Pop won't do it, then we're going to the courthouse."

"That's it? We're either having a sunset tree wedding or going to the courthouse? There's nothing else you'd want?"

He thought it over for a second.

"I like your idea about a party afterward with our friends and family," he answered. "I'm with you on not wanting to get married in front of everyone, but I do wanna celebrate with them."

You smiled. "So, private ceremony and a poppin' party afterward? Did we just plan our wedding?"

He matched your look, his hand coming up to hold your cheek. "Yeah, I think we did." He pulled you down, kissing you tenderly. When he looked at you after, his gaze was soft. "Any day, any time, you tell me when, and I'll be there no matter what," he said. "Nothing will keep me from marrying you.” He suddenly looked unsure. “You know that, right?"

It made your heart ache. He was worried you thought he might not show up to your wedding as he'd done at his first.

"Javi, baby." You put all your weight onto one arm to push his hair out of his face with your other hand and soothingly stroke your fingers through the soft strands. "Is the sky blue?"

His eyebrows creased. "Yes?"

"Is grass green?"

"Yes?"

"Are you the sexiest man alive?"

He frowned. "Fucking Harrison Ford is this year’s sexiest man alive, and you know that." He was pouting, and it made you snort.

When he saw the People Magazine while the two of you were at the grocery store proclaiming Harrison Ford as this year's sexiest man alive the previous month, Javi had grumbled, 'You gotta be fucking kidding me,' because he knew you thought the actor was attractive and had seen the majority of his filmography. Javi had a love/hate relationship with the guy since he did quite enjoy his movies but couldn't stand the fact that the other man was your celebrity crush.

"Well, whoever decides the sexiest man alive at People Magazine is wrong since the correct answer to that question was yes—you, Javier Peña, are the sexiest man alive."

"Fucking Harrison Ford," he muttered.

You huffed in exasperation, rolling your eyes.

"Let's get back on topic. Does two plus two equal four?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Is Empire Strikes Back the best Star Wars movie?"

"Yes—why are you asking these questions?"

"Because they’re all facts," you said. "Like how I know for a fact you'll be there on our wedding day to say 'I do' and put a ring on my finger so I'll officially become Mrs. Javier Peña."

His dimple was showing he was smiling so big. "Yes, I fucking will."

His arms were around you, and a surprised sound left you as he rolled you onto your back, your thighs cradling his hips and feeling his cock beginning to harden between your bodies.

He lightly bit at your chin, his lips making a wet trail of kisses under your jaw that had tingles skittering down your spine, moaning when he got to the sensitive skin of your throat, your fingers tangling into his hair.

"I'm gonna marry you.” His voice was muffled while he kissed and bit along the column of taut skin. "And there's a chance you could be pregnant with our baby when I do."

He was making it hard to think while he sucked at your pulse.

"When?" you gasped.

"Hmmm?" he hummed.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart beating in your cunt.

"When do you want to get married?"

His head came up to look you in the eyes, low light from the fixture above the room’s door across the bedroom glowing behind the mess of brown hair on his head, giving some strands sticking out at odd angles a honeyed hue. His lips were red, cheeks pinked up, his gaze dark and hungry.

"Whenever you want," he answered. "Next weekend, next month—if you're planning on inviting people out of state, I'm fine with waiting a few months to give them time to figure out their travel shit. It's all up to you." He pecked your lips. "Most of my family are back home, and then I'd want Steve's family there—that's it for me."

He kissed you then and really kissed you. The kind of kiss that told you the conversation was over, and he wanted to shift his focus to the fact you were both naked in a bed, in a place where you could fuck with abandon and no interruptions.

Javi moved you further up the mattress and sheathed his hard dick back inside your sopping pussy, the slickness of his come allowing him to slip right in—his mouth was fused to yours while he slowly rocked, letting you feel every ridge and vein along his shaft pressing against your inner walls.

He had you feeling incredibly full with how he was keeping most of himself buried inside your cunt, pushing in so deep you thought he had to be up in your guts. Your legs wrapped around his waist and locked at the ankles, his large palm grabbing your left hand from his hair to lace your fingers together, his lips leaving yours to kiss the diamond before pressing your hands into the bed beside your head, his mouth back on yours.

It started soft and slow, neither of you rushing to come and simply enjoying being with the other. At some point, there was a shift, and the kisses became more heated until he was breaking away to get up on his knees, untangling your legs from him and moving them to one side, causing your hips to twist onto your side with his cock still inside you. He had one hand gripping your thigh, the other on the side of your ass, and he started moving at a hard, fast pace that had skin slapping against skin as his hips connected with your backside and the backs of your thighs.

He made you come by getting his fingers into the tight space between your closed legs to play with your clit while he pounded into you, and before you even recovered, he had you up on your spread knees, your chest to the mattress as you caught your breath. Your fingers were clawing at the snow-white sheets and moaning loudly when his tongue licked against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

Javier said he was going to fuck you for a couple of hours in this hotel room, and he did.

In the first hour, he had you on top of him, on your knees, your back, your stomach, your side, bent over the bed and on the edge of it. You lost track of how many times you came, and it was a mess between your legs with the two times Javi had finished inside you.

There was, of course, a break for Javi to recover after he'd come, and so you both could drink some water from the plastic cups on a tray with the empty ice bucket.

His cell phone started ringing about an hour and a half after you arrived.

There was a thin sheen of sweat coating both of your naked bodies, and you were lying back with your head on a pillow—Javi's lips were wrapped around the swollen berry of your clit while two of his thick fingers were deep in your come-filled cunt, pressing into that spot that had your vision blurring, so close to climaxing you were right on the precipice.

Your hands were in his hair, moaning loudly, and the sudden ringing had you jumping in your skin.

"Ignore it," he said into your pussy.

He was back to sucking on your bundle of nerves, and you focused on the pleasure building in your tummy, winding tighter and tighter. The call went to voicemail, and the ringing stopped. Finally, you fell over the edge, coming with a gasp, your muscles clenching up tight, euphoria erupting out from your center.

"Good girl," his muffled voice said, working you through your high.

You were feeling amazing, your body completely relaxing, limbs trembling, practically melting into the bed, and having to fight off the exhaustion from so many orgasms that was threatening to make you fall asleep.

Ringing started again, and it startled you.

Javi sighed against your cunt, his mouth and fingers leaving you and the mattress jostling as he got up.

"Who the fuck is calling?" His voice was a little hoarse.

"My money is on either your dad or Steve," you slurred, sounding drunk.

Your eyes were closed, but you could hear the rustle of him grabbing his jeans off the ground to get the cell phone off of his belt.

"Goddammit," he muttered, and you heard the beep of him pressing a button. "What?" he answered. "Yeah, we're fine... She said yes... Thanks..." He was talking to Steve. You were sure of it with his annoyed, clipped answers. "We had time, so I brought her downtown... Yeah, we'll be back before then..." He loudly sighed. "With all the great shit that happened this morning, I was too busy enjoying time with my new fiancée to even think about calling anyone. Sorry... Okay, I gotta go... Bye." Another beep of him pressing the end call button and the phone dropping down to his jeans on the floor.

"Was he worried we hadn't gotten back?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"That's sweet."

"It's annoying."

The bed’s springs softly squeaked as he got onto it.

You smiled. "I think it's cute that Steve gets on your nerves as if he was your sibling—you love him, you'd take a bullet for him, but just the sound of him breathing aggravates you; Steve's your adopted brother."

His hand grabbed your ankle, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

"Maybe he is."

"He is. His kids call you tío (uncle), and you love them like they are your flesh and blood."

"I do."

"Yes, you do." Your eyes blinked open, moving to sit up on your elbows to see him sitting on the bed by your legs, his gaze meeting yours. "There are a lot of people who love you, Javi, and I'm happy our kids will have so much family."

He frowned, and you knew he was about to ask about your own, who'll be up in arms when they discover you’re engaged to him.

"I don't want to talk about it," you said before he could open his mouth. "This is a happy, horny time, and we're not gonna ruin the mood with my baggage—I gotta go to the bathroom." You started getting up, and he stopped you with his hand on your leg, your eyes meeting his.

"Mi familia es tu familia y te aman sin condiciones (My family is your family and they love you no matter what)—te amamos sin condiciones (we love you no matter what). Tu familia biológica no saben lo que se están perdiendo (Your biological family have no idea what they’re missing). Eres inteligente, hermosa, compasiva, y cómica (You’re smart, beautiful, compassionate, and funny)—eres increíble y si ellos no pueden ver eso, no los necesitas (you are incredible and if they can’t see that, you don’t need them).”

Emotion had your eyes burning. "Thank you," you said, leaning forward to touch his forearm. "I know you all love me, and I love you—it'll be nice when I can change my last name."

A little smile pulled up on his lips. "I can't wait to give you my last name—now, go pee.” He patted your leg. “We only have half an hour left, and I don't wanna waste a single minute."

"You know, you get really bossy when you're horny." You got off the bed on shaky legs, something you were used to, padding across the floor.

"Would you rather me be grumpy?" he called after you, making you laugh.

Stopping at the bathroom doorway near the room's door, your hand on the mahogany-colored wood, you looked over at him. "Grumpy-horny Javi is very hot, and I can expect to be railed senseless—like last night when you were mad about the squeaky bed and worked out your frustration by putting me face down, ass up, and fucking me hard. With bossy-horny Javi, I'm in for an insane amount of orgasms because you get all pleasure dommy and make it your life's purpose to make me come so many times, I look like a newborn giraffe when I try to walk afterward."

A short huff of air left his nose, and he looked amused.

"Is there a regular-horny Javi?" he asked.

"Yes.” You nodded. “Regular-horny Javi is usually stuck to me like glue and handsy before we get naked. The sex is very intimate and involves a lot of kissing, and we're so comfortable we sometimes chat and laugh in the middle of it."

He was giving you a fond smile. "That one's your favorite," he said.

You grinned. "Of course, and it's the horny Javi I get the majority of the time, so I am living the fucking dream."

"It's my favorite, too."

"Like, don't get me wrong, the last hour or so has been spectacular and some of your best work, but all the position changes had me feeling like we were filming a porno."

Something happened because he was suddenly giving you a blank stare, and it had your eyebrows cinching together. After a few seconds of silence, you spoke. "Javi?"

Saying his name had him coming back to himself with a slight shake of his head.

He said something so quietly you couldn't hear it from how far away you were.

"What?" you asked.

His eyes were on yours, and they'd gone darker.

"I'm buying a camcorder."

"Oh my god, Javier," you said in exasperation. "You're not buying a camcorder for the sole purpose of us making a dirty movie."

He was frowning. "I'd use it for other stuff—like our wedding and the birth of our kid."

"You're absolutely not recording me giving birth."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "No birthing video, got it. I still wanna record our wedding and some of the party. I'm sure there's a lot of other shit we'd wanna film."

"Uh-huh." You crossed your arms. "We've been together awhile, and you're just now deciding you should get a camcorder?"

"Yeah, seems like a great investment." He shrugged.

"Seems like a horny investment—you're ridiculous. Buy your camcorder, Mr. Amateur Porn Star." You walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light.

"Our homemade porno would be better than anything professionally made!" he shouted from the other room.

Javier was getting old, and he fucking hated it.

When the idea came to him to stop at the hotel, he thought two hours was more than enough time—he could fuck her over and over and over again to work it out of his system so he wouldn't be on edge the rest of the trip.

What he didn't account for, in his grand horny scheme, was his goddamn refractory period. It pissed him off that he wasn't ready to go again after five, ten minutes like it'd been in his twenties. No, on a good day, he was looking at fifteen, and most of the time, it was at least twenty. So, forty minutes out of their two stolen hours they had alone together, his dick didn't work.

It made him so fucking mad.

The time wasn't wasted—the first twenty minutes, he got to enjoy some post-sex cuddling, and they planned their wedding. The second time, the moment he could function, he was using his mouth and fingers to make her feel really fucking good.

This has never been an issue since they haven’t had a time constraint like this before. The few Saturdays where they spent the majority of the day tangled in their bed's sheets, it wasn't a big deal for them to take a fifteen to twenty-minute breather between rounds.

But in these two uninterrupted hours after the love of his life agreed to marry him and told him she was ready for them to start their family, revealing she was already off of her birth control, every minute counted; there was something in the back of his mind, an urge, that he needed to bury himself inside her and fuck his come as deep as possible—it was insatiable. He'd already finished twice, and it wasn't enough, and because he had to wait twenty fucking minutes to get hard again, there was only enough time for him to come once more.

Which was where they were now, with Javier kneeling on the bed while she straddled his hips, her arm around his neck, the other on the bed behind her for balance, his hands gripping her ass and helping her work herself up and down his cock.

His forehead was wet with sweat, feeling a drop slide down the side of his face, the rest of his body glistening. Exertion had grunts pushing from his throat, his mouth on hers smothering her moans.

He had already got one last orgasm out of her and was heading toward his own end. Her pussy was drooling all over his dick with the mixture of their come and her arousal, dripping down to coat his balls and fall onto the sheets—they were making a mess, and he planned to leave the housekeepers a big tip for all the trouble.

The familiar pressure was coiling deep in his gut, electricity igniting in his core, a telltale sign he was close. He broke the kiss and got both of her arms around his neck, making her squeak in surprise when he practically tackled her back onto the mattress, their bodies bouncing a little for a few seconds.

His hips were moving fast, hearing the wet smack of his body colliding with hers and his cock working in and out of her drenched cunt.

His teeth found her chin with a small amount of pressure while his eyes were closed, holding himself up with his arms bracketing her ears.

"Come for me, Javi," she breathlessly said, grabbing onto his ass, her fingers digging into the flexed muscles. "Come for me, baby." His face went into the crook of her neck, panting hot breaths against her skin. "You've fucked me so good today, Javi. I need you to come—fuck a baby into me."

Pleasure sliced through him like a burning knife, and he whined, his strokes speeding up.

"Anything," he panted. "I'll give you anything you want—you can have anything. I'm yours—" he was fuck drunk and rambling. "—I'm all yours, and I'll give you a baby—I'll get you pregnant. We'll have our baby. Fuck," he groaned.

All his nerves lit up, energy thrumming under his skin and sparking through his body. The knot in his belly was tightening, his rhythm becoming uneven until he was at the point of no return—he was coming, and nothing could stop him.

He pushed forward hard, sinking his dick inside her to the root as it jerked, and pleasure overtook him, raggedly moaning that dulled when he bit into her shoulder—his come gushed into her depths, his hips rolling to fuck it deeper before the oversensitivity made him hiss.

Something in the recesses of his brain was purring happily—satiated.

His body was blissfully relaxed, and he slumped onto the woman under him, feeling completely wrung out and thinking he might pass out.

"'m sorry," he mumbled into her neck. "Is this okay?"

Her fingers slid into his hair, and tingles shivered down his spine.

"It's fine, baby," she whispered. "But don't pass out—we have to leave."

The sound he made was a mix of a groan and whine. He was so comfortable he didn't want to move.

How mad would Steve and Connie be if they didn't go on the beach trip and stayed here for a few more hours?

"No," she said. "We're not ditching your friends." Of course, she knew what he was thinking.

"I don't wanna move." He actually whined this time.

"You knew we had two hours here, and that's it. We need to take a quick shower so it's not obvious we've been fucking, and then we gotta get back to Steve and Connie's because the kids are excited to go to the beach with you."

He nuzzled closer into her throat.

"'m comfy."

She pinched his asscheek hard, and he twitched.

"We're not disappointing the children, Javier. Now, get up." She smacked his ass.

"You're mean,” he grumbled.

"I'm not mean. I'm polite to our hosts. You're being a big whiny baby."

"Que mala que eres conmigo (You're so mean to me)."

"Yo tampoco soy mala en español (I'm not mean in Spanish either)."

He sighed. "Cinco minutos, por favor, mi amor (Five minutes, please, my love)."

"Bueno, cinco minutos por que eres lindo (Okay, you can have five minutes because you're cute)." The fingers on one of her hands scratched at his scalp, and her other hand rubbed over his back, a content sigh leaving him as he smiled.

She was so soft and warm beneath him, her scent filling his nose and soothing him.

Up until he met her, home was the ranch he grew up on—no matter where in the world he lived, it was always that house where his parents were, and he was welcome and loved.

Home was no longer a place.

Home was the woman he loved's arms wrapped around him; It was her grinning at him with that gorgeous smile; It was her perfect lips pressed to his; It was her delicate hand held in his larger palm; It was her beautiful eyes staring at him with all the love in the world.

Home was his Cielito, his little heaven.

And as long as he was with her, he was home.

His mind had drifted, and quickly, his consciousness went with it, too.

A loud snore erupted against your neck, the sudden noise causing you to jolt.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whispered.

You explicitly told him not to pass out, you had even asked him after going to the bathroom if he should really go again because you had a feeling it’d put him to sleep, and he reassured you he’d be perfectly fine—the dirty fucking liar.

“Javi?” you said softly, lightly patting his back. “Wake up, babe. We have to get going, honey.”

His body tensed, and he sucked in a breath as he awoke immediately, his head raising to look at you with bleary eyes.

“Fuck.” His voice was hoarse. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Sure did, Sleeping Beauty.” You rubbed along his spine. “We gotta get up and leave. You can take a nap at the beach.”

His pouty lips were dipped low in a frown.

“With you…?”

You smiled, pushing some hair away from his face. "Is this one of those days where you can't go more than a few seconds without touching me?"

Those big brown eyes of his got bigger as he nodded.

In general, Javi was constantly touching you, but there were some days when he was practically stuck to you like a handsy octopus and went with you everywhere—except the bathroom, the one place you firmly told him, no, he couldn't come with you and hang out while you did your business.

"My cute, needy fiancé." You cupped his cheek. "I'll stay close if you need me to."

His head turned to kiss your palm. "I need you to."

"Okay, now let's get up."

A long, sad sigh exhaled from his lungs. "Fine," he said, leaning forward to peck you on the lips.

He moved then, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulled his soft length out of you, his hands sinking into the mattress when he pushed himself back and up with a grunt to kneel between your legs.

His gaze was stuck at the apex of your thighs, the lips of your sex puffy, and your hole starting to drip his come—two of his fingers scooped up what had dribbled out and pushed it back in, your mouth falling open.

His dark eyes locked on yours, his voice a deep, rough rasp when he spoke. "We don't want to waste any." He laid his other hand onto your lower abdomen, his digits spread wide to take up ample real estate over your womb. "We need to keep you full. Can you be my good girl and keep me inside?"

Pleasure zipped along your spine, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you nodded.

"Yes," you answered, putting a hand over his on your skin.

He picked up your smaller palm, his gaze dropping to the ring that made him smile, the pad of his thumb mapping the mountain range of diamonds before he lifted it to his lips in a kiss.

"Good," he said, setting your hand down and removing the fingers of his other from inside your pussy. You watched as he sucked the come-soaked digits into his mouth with a dirty groan at the taste. They came out licked clean from between his lips. "We taste so fucking good together," he told you, with his attention on you. "Let's shower, mi amor (my love). Then we can go and figure out what the fuck we're gonna tell Steve and Connie on the way."

"Are you saying they wouldn't appreciate us spending a dumb amount of money to fuck for a couple of hours instead of secretly getting busy under their roof?"

"They'll be happy we did it outside of their house, but it'd piss Steve off that we made them worry and didn't call to tell them we had other plans because we were too busy fucking."

You blew air out of the side of your mouth. "We just can't win with that guy."

"I told you he's fucking annoying."

"Eh—" You shrugged. "—he's just your brother from another mother, and you both find dumb shit to get annoyed about with each other. I wish I only got annoyed about dumb shit with my little brother, but he's actually an entitled dick because my parents gave him anything and everything he's ever wanted and kiss the ground he walks upon."

He was frowning now.

"Are you going to tell them?" he asked softly.

"About the engagement? Yeah, the next time my mom calls to make sure I'm not bringing any more shame on our family name—she's gonna be pissed, and I can feel it in my bones that it will cause me to go no contact with her and the rest of them."

His hand rubbed over your thigh. "I'm sorry." The remorse was heavy in his tone.

"Meh." You waved away his apology. "Nothing to be sorry about. I chose you, and I'd choose you again without hesitation. I couldn't care less if us getting married upsets them. We're happy, and that's all that matters."

"We are happy. I just feel like shit, I'm the reason your relationship with your family is so fucking strained."

"Javi, babe, the relationship has been strained long before we got together. You just gave me a reason to stick up for myself and not put up with their shit. Don't feel bad. You told me today your family is my family, and all of you is all I need."

"Promise?" he whispered.

You held out your pinky. "I pinky promise."

That made him smile, looping his around yours to make the sacred vow that he and his family were really all you needed—Javi leaning down, holding himself up with a hand on the bed beside you as he gave you a tender kiss.

Javier felt fucking amazing and exhausted.

Did he overdo it? Probably. His back was already a little achier than usual, and he imagined it'd feel even worse the next day. The fantastic sex was worth the backache and pain in his knees, especially with how his future wife had the post-good sex glow about her that made his chest puff out a little.

She had a point that a shower was needed before they left the hotel room so they didn't reek of sex, which they quickly took after getting up.

One twenty-dollar bill was put on top of the hotel notepad sitting on the desk that Javier had scribbled, 'Thank you,' as they left. The bedding had been stripped from the bed and put in one pile, while their used towels were in another.

The same person who checked them in, checked them out, and, from the look on her face, didn’t buy their lie that they were leaving so early due to a family emergency—it was probably Cielito trying to sell it by saying they had to rush to the hospital because his nephew had been viciously attacked by a… duck.

They were driving on the freeway, her hand in his, resting on her legging-covered thigh.

"A duck?" he asked. They'd been silent up until now, but he needed to know where that came from. "We're in Florida where there are actual dangerous wild animals like fucking alligators and sharks—hell, a dog woulda made sense, and you said my fake nephew was attacked by a duck?"

"Oh my god, Javier," she groaned, covering her eyes with her spare hand. "I know it was stupid, but I was super uncomfortable with the looks the employees were giving me."

He frowned. "What looks?" He glanced over at her, and her hand lowered to meet his eyes.

"The extremely judgey, disgusted looks because they thought I was a working girl—the mistaken identity was fine; that didn't bother me. It was how they looked at me like I was less of a person than them." She was frowning. "It just made me feel so bad for actual working girls who have to deal with that bullshit on the daily."

"Fuck." He focused back on the road. "I'm sorry you went through that, and I shouldn't have put you in that spot." He sighed, untangling their hands to push his shower-damp hair back with his hand. "I've been so caught up in you wearing the ring and assuming other people would notice it, too, that it didn't even cross my mind how us only spending a couple of hours at a hotel would look."

She sounded amused when she spoke. "It's adorable that you assume everyone knows we're engaged and figured the hotel employees thought we were just an incredibly horny couple instead of a lady of the night with her John."

If people weren't tipped off she was his fiancée with the ring on her finger, then he was going to start telling every person they came in contact with, so there wasn’t any more confusion in the future—giddiness bubbled up inside him over the thought of eventually getting to introduce her as his wife.

If he’d been wearing a ring, she wouldn’t have been put in that situation; it would’ve been clear as day they were married…

“Marry me,” he said, quickly looking over at her.

She giggled. “I’ve already agreed to marry you.”

“No—“ He shook his head. “—I know I said I was fine waiting a few months for our wedding, but I fucking can’t—I wanna marry you as soon as possible." His attention went forward once more, nerves fluttering in his gut.

She reached to grab his hand and held it in both of hers.

"You know there are a lot of men who dread their wedding day. They're the guys who call their wives 'balls and chains,' like being married is comparable to being in jail and an all-around nuisance even though they're the ones who proposed in the first place. The fact you're impatient to marry me makes me very happy—you're excited about our wedding day and don't see marriage as you losing your freedom; you see it as a guarantee you'll spend the rest of your life with the person you love."

He smiled. "Yeah," he said. "That's right."

"Regarding marrying me as soon as possible—my heart's set on the wedding at the tree we discussed. We can talk to your dad when we get home and see if he wants to get ordained. If he doesn't, then we'll go to the courthouse, make it official, and we can throw a party later. If your dad wants to officiate, I say we give it a month to get everything worked out with him and at the ranch."

A month at most. He could wait a month, right?

"Okay," he said, glancing toward her. "I'm fine with that."

She grinned. "Great. So, what's our story about where we've been since this morning?"

He looked at the road. "It won't be that we were viciously attacked by a duck..."

“Oh my god!”

It took them a bit to come up with something pretty believable—after spending a considerable amount of time at the beach, Javier gave her a tour of the area and took her exploring by foot around downtown. It was plausible.

They'd made sure they looked put together before leaving the hotel so it didn't raise any suspicions when they returned to their friends.

Arriving at the Murphy's, happy squeals could be heard as Javier unlocked the front door, and for a split second, he imagined a future where it wasn't his niece and nephews who were excited he was home, but his own children; the thought of his kids being unable to control their volume because they were just so happy to see him had warmth spreading through his body to the tips of his fingers to his toes.

The moment he stepped foot into the house, a three-year-old was screaming excitedly, "Tío!" and little arms hugged his legs as best they could.

Javier smiled, bending with a groan, saying, "Mi principito (My little prince)." He picked up the child, holding him in his arm while he toed off his black leather Chelsea boots in front of a shoe rack filled to the brim with children’s and adult shoes, Cielito following him inside and shutting the door.

"Are we going to the beach, tío?" Stevie asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, bud—” He tickled the child’s belly, making him laugh and squirm. “—in a little bit."

He heard the pattering of feet before he saw the oldest of the kids running into the room they were in.

"You're back!" Olivia said with a big smile. "We can finally go to the beach!"

Steve had walked in.

"Sorry, we got back so late, mi tesorito (my little treasure)." Javier apologized to the young girl.

"And where were you?" Steve asked.

His friend’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion when their gazes met. Javier moved Stevie into his other arm so he could pull Cielito into his side, keeping his hand on her hip.

"The beach, then I gave my fiancée a tour of the city, and we walked around everywhere."

Steve's eyes narrowed further. "Bullsh—crap." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Where were you really?"

Javier's jaw clenched. "I just told you, and I'm not gonna repeat myself, so drop it."

"Olivia, baby girl, take your brother to the family room. I need to have an adult ears-only conversation with your tío Javi."

The nine-year-old looked confused but came forward and took the younger child from him.

"Come on, Stevie," she said, heading out of the room. "We'll hang out with tío more later. Let's go watch cartoons."

Their father looked over his shoulder, watching them depart, and once they were out of earshot, he was rounding on Javier.

"You asshole," he harshly whispered. "Walking around downtown, my ass." He stepped forward and tugged on Javier's shirt collar. "These hickies tell me you were doing a hell of a lot more than walking." Shit, Javier batted away his hand, glaring at the blonde man. "What if you'd gotten caught, where? In the back of that rental? You just expected I'd bail you out of jail? Were you even thinking with your brain? Or just with your dick?"

Anger was sizzling in his gut, along with shame, because they had almost gotten caught, and there was a chance Steve would’ve had to bail them out.

"I told you to drop it.” The sentence was gritted through his teeth as he seethed, his wif-fiancée putting a comforting hand on his back and rubbing circles.

"I'm not gonna drop it, 'cause what would I have told the kids if you'd gotten caught?" he asked, crossing his arms back over his chest.

That was a low blow, and it pissed him off even more.

"Well, we didn't get fucking caught, and for your information—" He jabbed his finger into the center of Steve's chest. "—I was thinking with my brain—I've been holed up in a hotel for the last two hours with my fiancée, you fucking prick."

A humorless huff left his friend, his eyes wide in disbelief. "You horny fucker—you're joking."

Javier's hand went to his waist, lifting his eyebrow. "You wanna see the receipt? You’d think we were at the fucking, uh, Ritz or whatever the fuck luxury hotel with how much they charged for one night when this place didn’t even have fucking room service."

The other man chuckled, shaking his head. He met his gaze. "You know what? I forgive you for making us worry." He clapped a hand on Javier's shoulder, giving him a beaming smile. "Congratulations, Javi. I’m happy for you guys and get it. You were excited and wanted to be alone with the woman you’re marrying. I don't blame you for spending hours in a hotel room.” His smile shifted to something smarmy. “I sure as hell don't want you doing that shit here, and it's not like you can with how goddamn squeaky the guest bed is."

Javier wanted to wipe the smug smile off his old partner’s face.

"Hey, Steve?" Cielito cut in.

His friend looked at her. "Yeah?"

"Have you seen the first Jurassic Park movie?"

The blonde man's eyebrows pulled together. "I have." He nodded. "A few times."

She smiled. "Then you know, life finds a way."

God, he loved her, and he loved that she enjoyed messing with his best friend as much as he did—Javier snorted and kissed the side of her head.

Steve looked confused until it dawned on him what she meant.

"No," he whispered in denial.

"Yes," Javier replied, smirking, the other man facing him.

"But the bed..."

It was Javier’s turn to clap a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Steve… But the fact you think a bed is the only place to fuck, tells me you’re a really boring and bad lay—need me to give you some pointers?”

“I quite enjoyed what we did on the chair,” Cielito said. “And my god, Javi is always amazing, but he brought his A-game on the floor. You put some blankets and pillows on the stone tiles, and they’re not too bad to be fucked on.”

Steve’s face had slowly gotten redder and redder as they spoke, and Javier was worried the man’s head would explode, especially with how he couldn’t say anything, his blue eyes big and mouth opening and closing like a fish in a bowl.

“What we’re saying, man,” Javier said, patting the blonde man’s shoulder. “Is when you’re horny enough, you’ll find a way.” He looked over at his fiancée, and her expression showed she was just as delighted as he felt. “From the sound of it, the guest bathroom hasn’t seen any action.”

Her eyes were on his. “A travesty—it’s a law that every room in the house has to be christened. Don’t worry, Steve—“ Her attention moved to the man in front of them, reaching to pat his arm. “—we know a bathroom is too exotic of a locale for you, so we’ll take one for the team and break it in; there’s no need to thank us.”

His former partner finally found his voice.

"Connie!" Steve yelled, his upper body turning, along with his head, to look behind him.

"Yeah?!" she answered from the kitchen.

"Everything in the guest room has to go! It all needs to be burned, and the guest bathroom is getting that remodel you wanted!”

She walked out of the kitchen with a small dish towel in her hands.

“You said we couldn’t afford to remodel the guest bath...”

“Well, I’m gonna figure out where we can add it into our budget ‘cause it’s happening, along with all new furniture in that room and linen. We also gotta have the floors sanitized.”

She looked past her husband at the two of them.

“He found out y’all messed around in there?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

She nodded in understanding and straightened.

“You’re so right, baby,” she said, agreeing too easily. “We have to remodel that entire back bedroom and bathroom now. It’s the only choice we have.”

“I’m happy you agree,” her husband said seriously. “We’ll toss all the bedding when they leave.”

“Except for the throw pillows. I really like those pillows and can have them professionally cleaned.”

“Of course, honey.”

Cielito leaned into him and whispered in his ear while his friends continued speaking, “Did we just inadvertently help Connie bamboozle Steve into doing a house project she’s been wanting done?”

“I think so,” he said just as quietly. “I’m happy to help after all she’s done for us.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to ask if she needs us to fuck anywhere else in or outside the house.”

“Or her van if she wanted a new one.”

“True. She just found a cheat code to get stuff she wants.”

“Will we be like this when we’re married?”

“Javi, babe, you give me anything I want if I ask—I don’t need a cheat code. It’s the same for you with me. If either of us wants anything, the other will do whatever they can to make it happen. Also, we’re equals in our relationship, whereas Steve thinks he’s the man of the house and in charge of everything, but it’s really Connie who runs the show and knows how to play him, like with this guest bedroom remodel. She’s crafty, and I highly respect her. So, no, we won’t be like this because I wouldn’t have or want to manipulate you to do my bidding.”

“Marry me.”

She giggled.

“I’m already marrying you, you goober.” She playfully slapped his arm, and he grabbed her hand, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles as he stared into her eyes.

“Marry me again.”

“Then yes, I’ll double marry you.”

He smiled. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with how she was looking at him, he knew she meant every word, and it made him feel so happy there was a chance he’d float away.

This was real love.

This was the kind of love that wraps around you tight and never lets go.

The kind of love that can handle anything life throws at it since they’re stronger together.

The kind of love that lasts forever, even after their souls leave this earth. Their story will be remembered for eternity by the stars up above.

This was real love.

It was true love, and it was their love.

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#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series #pedro pascal fanfiction

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awaywith-thefaeries · 1 year

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HANGMAN’S A WHAT NOW!? | j.seresin

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x wife!reader

summary: after the uranium mission, the dagger squad is assigned more permanently to the San Diego base, so Jake and his wife make plans to move their little family out to SoCal. The rest of the dagger squad is quite surprised to find out that Hangman even has a wife, when she joins them for a beach day, with some little surprises in tow.

warnings: pure, tooth-rotting fluff, Jake being a girl dad

a/n: this is just a little piece I came up with a 4 a.m. last night. reblogs are greatly appreciated. feel free to send in requests for any of the characters on my page, my requests are open!

word count: 2k

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Mama, are we almost there yet?”

You smiled softly at your daughter, cuddling as close to her sister as the seatbelt in the back of the car will allow her.

“Almost, Liv,” you say gently.

“Okay then, Mama,” your daughter sighs, her head falling onto her sister's, where she is snoozing on Olive’s shoulder.

You smile at your twin girls, who had been so good for you while you drove from your old home in rural Texas, to join their father in San Diego, where he has been more permanently stationed after the success of the last mission he had been called back to Top Gun for. The girls adored their father and it has been a hard couple of months without him, for all three of you. You know it has been hard on Jake too. He acted happy for the girls on their frequent FaceTime sessions, but you’ve known Jake too long to not catch the sadness in his eyes as he read them a bedtime story and watched them fall asleep without being able to tuck them into their blankets, smooth their hair back from their faces and kiss them goodnight.

Which is why you had packed up the girls, and all your essentials three days before schedule, so you could finally reunite with your beloved husband. You have been in contact with the only one of your husband's fellow pilots you’ve met, his friend Javy (or Coyote to his team), who let you know that the whole squad was having a beach day today, which is where you are headed now.

You look around at the houses on either side of the street as you follow the GPS to the location Coyote sent you, somewhere called The Hard Deck. He had texted you that you could park your van in the lot, and then go through the bar (which isn’t open this early in the afternoon, he assured you) to get to the beach on the other side.

Passing under a row of palm trees, you pull into the parking lot of the small beachside bar you have heard so much about from your husband and turn into the open spot in between Jake’s truck and a shiny Bronco.

Putting your keys in your bag, you open your door and climb out, brushing your long skirt out as you make your way around the front of the car to open the door your girls are sleeping next too.

Opening it gently, you brush you fingers through Charlotte’s dark blonde hair, so similar to her daddy’s.

“Lottie, baby, it’s time to wake up, we’re here,” you whisper to her. She stirs a little, blinking bleary green eyes up at you as a tiny hand comes up to rub her face. The arm movement jostles Olive, who picks her head up and yawns.

“Come on, my loves, can you undo your seatbelts and stand next to Mama, so I can make sure you look so pretty to see Daddy again?”

With that question, the identical faces of the best gifts Jake has ever given you light up, as if remembering where they are and why they had been driving in the car for two days.

Within seconds, your twins are standing side by side, bobbing up and down on their toes in excitement as you check that their adorable little matching outfits have not been wrinkled too much by the car ride. Once you re-tie Charlotte’s hair bow, which had come undone in the car, you take each of your daughters hands in each of yours and lead them into the empty bar.

Passing through the doors that lead onto the sand, your girls gape at the sight of the ocean sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

“Mama,” Olive says, mouth hanging open, “it’s so big.”

“Yeah, baby, it goes on for miles and miles.”

“Mama, mama, mama, look!” Charlotte bounces in place next to you and squeezes the hand she’s holding onto. “I can see Daddy!”

You turn to look where she’s pointing and sure enough, a tiny ways down the beach, you spot your husband, throwing around a ball with another man in board shorts. The man throws his head back and laughs at something Jake says.

“Mama, can we go! Can we do the surprise now, please?” Olive asks, so sweetly that your heart melts a little bit as you nod at your daughter.

“Go knock him over with the biggest hug ever, girls!” You say as you start walking again, releasing their hands so that they can run ahead.

✯✯✯✯

“Nice try, Bradshaw,” Jake yells to his friend as Rooster throws a particularly hard ball, causing Jake to have to side step to catch it.

“One day man,” Rooster grins, “one day, I’ll get you.”

Jake is just about to come up with a witty retort when he hears something he thought he wasn’t going to hear for another couple of days.

“Daddy!”

Two little voices he knows better than anything. Jake whips around in disbelief, forgetting Rooster and the game of catch in an instant as he spots his little girls running towards him, dressed adorably in little matching outfits.

Jake takes a few steps towards his girls and then drops into the sand just in time for them to come crashing into him, arms going round his neck and bodies thumping into him with such force, he goes sprawling back in the sand with his babies on top of him. He holds them there for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of them in his arms again, their puffs of laughter tickling his neck.

After a few moments, he sits up effortlessly, still holding onto the two five year olds and sets them onto their feet. Pulling out of the hug just far enough to look at their faces, Jake’s right hand comes up to stroke Olive’s hair out of her eyes while his left stays firmly around Charlotte’s waist.

“What are you doing here, you two?”

“We come early, Daddy!” Olive says, her little hand coming up to touch Jake’s cheek.

“Mama said we should surprise you!” Charlotte says, her voice muffled from where she’s pressed her face into her father’s neck.

“Did she now?” Jake asks playfully, looking up just as a pair of legs he knows very well stop in front of him. He lets his eyes trail upwards until they meet yours and he swears, he doesn’t think there will ever be a time where he isn’t affected by that beautiful smile.

“Hi Darlin,” he grins, letting go of his babies for only a moment to get to his feet before putting his hands on their heads as they wrap themselves around a leg each.

“Hey Handsome,” you smirk back, and Jake can’t help but close the tiny distance between you to press a kiss to your lips.

He feels so content in this moment, all three of his girls are finally with him after too long (in his opinion) apart, that it’s a bit jarring when Rooster’s voice breaks through his little bubble of happiness.

“I’m sorry, what the fu….rick is going on here?”

Jake laughs against your lips before pressing one last final kiss to them before pulling away and turning to see the rest of his team, save Coyote, gaping at him.

“What does it look like, Bradshaw,” Jake smirks, as Rooster rubs his ribs where Phoenix evidently elbowed him to keep him from cursing in front of the two little girls still hanging onto their father.

“It looks,” Phoenix jumps in, trying to sound mad, but failing because of the shit eating grin on her face, “like you’ve been keeping secrets, Bagman.”

You’re intoxicating laugh has Jake turing back to you, a betrayed look in his eyes, an over exaggerated pout on his lips.

“Baby?” He whines, purposefully making his bottom lip jut out and quiver slightly. You laugh again, leaning forward to kiss away his frown.

“Oh hush…..now, is your Daddy going to introduce us to the squad, or are we gonna have to report back to Grandma Seresin about his manners,” you say cheekily, leaning down to address the last part of your question to the twins. They both giggle and pull on Jake’s hands, while he stares down at his little family.

“Alright, no need to involve my mama,” he says, grinning, “who wants a ride over?”

Both of his daughters look up at him with matching grins, before Olive reaches up and starts shouting, “Sandwich, sandwich!”

“Oh alright!” Jake sighs dramatically, before taking her hands in both of his and swinging her up onto his back. Once he’s sure her little legs are locked around his waist tight enough that she won’t fall, he reaches down for Charlotte, and lifts her up to carry her on his chest.

With his daughters hanging off him like Koalas, and your hand in one of his, he leads you over to the little congregation of towels the gang had set up earlier that day.

Bob, Phoenix, Rooster, and Fanboy all rise to their feet from where they had been lounging, as Jake approaches with his family. Only Coyote remains on his towel, a fact which makes Jake smirk.

“Everyone, these are my girls,” Jake says, angling his body so that Olive is slightly visible, and Charlotte can see from where her head is back in his neck.

There’s a chorus of heys from the group and Jake feels one of Olive’s hands leave his neck, reaching up to wave at the pilots.

“This is my wife, Y/N Seresin, and these two beauties…..Can you say hi, and introduce yourself, sugar?” Jake asks Olive, bouncing a little so that she holds onto his neck again. She giggles lightly and Jake feels her nod against his shoulder.

“I’m Liv,” she says, “it’s very nice to meet you!”

She mispronounces her v’s slightly, but her greeting is so endearing that Jake witnesses all the pilots melt in front of him.

“And what about you, baby?” Jake asks Charlotte, angling his head so that he can see her face. She shakes her head slightly, her eyes so wide and innocent in her face.

“Are you sure, darlin?” Jake asks. His shy daughter just shakes her head, and turns her face, so that her face is hidden completely in her father’s neck.

“Okay….,” Jake murmurs to her, running his hand up and down her back in circles and turns to his group of pilots.

“This little one is Lottie,” he says.

“Coyote,” you say, taking the focus of the group off of your shy daughter as you call your friend, “are you gonna stay over there, or are you actually going to get up and and come say hello?”

“Ya know, I think I’m good where I am,” Coyote laughs from his seat, grinning.

“Uncle Javy!?” Olive asks, wriggling around in excitement.

“Yeah Livie!” Coyote grins, finally getting up from the ground and making his way over.

“Daddy, down please!” Olive chirps and Jake obligingly bends until his daughter can hop off his back.

The minute Olive is on the ground, she takes off running towards Coyote, and he leans down as she gets to him, and lifts her up, swinging her around in the air as her laughter explodes from her. After she's been swung around a few times, Coyote p uts her back in the sand and pulls you into a side hug.

✯✯✯✯

As the family reunites with each other, and some of the pilots go and begin chatting with Jake and his wife, Phoenix sidles up to Rooster and elbows him again.

"You good, Roos?"

The pilot turns his head to look at her, and she bursts out laughing.

"Oh come on, Bradley, is it really that shocking that Jake has a life outside of the navy?"

"Kind of!"

Phoenix goes to elbow her friend again, but he's ready this time, dodging out of the way as she goes for his ribs, the two pilots laughing as they join the rest of the group getting to know their newest members.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #dad!jake seresin #the dagger squad #rooster top gun #phoenix top gun #hangman x wife!reader #awaywith-thefaeries #top gun 2 #top gun fanfiction #dogfight football #maverick top gun

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starkwlkr · 1 year

Text

beach baby | mick schumacher

the schumacher-senna family spend a day at the beach

“I think she needs more sunscreen.” Mick said as he grabbed the bottle of sunscreen from the diaper bag.

“Mick, I’ve made sure she has enough on her. She’s fine.” Y/N said as she adjusted the little hat she had put on Emmy. “Now how about we go introduce Emmy to the water? You want to swim, baby? Let’s go.” Y/N said to her daughter in a baby voice.

“Alright, but not too deep-”

“Of course not, she’s a baby.” Y/N got up from her spot on the blanket that Mick had laid out on the sand. She looked at her boyfriend, waiting for him to get up too. “Aren’t you coming, Schumacher?”

“Right behind you, Senna.” Mick got up and followed his girls to the water. “Wait, let me get my phone so I can record her reaction.” Mick quickly went ran back to get his phone from your bag. “I’m going to send this to mom and Gina.”

Y/N sat with Emmy on the wet sand and waited for a small wave to hit the little girl’s feet. The baby girl looked up at her mom confused by how the sand felt between her toes. Mick laughed at his daughter’s reaction as Y/N adjusted the girl on her lap.

“Look baby, it feels nice right?” Y/N said to Emmy, who’s lips turned into a smile. She started to splash the water with her hands which resulted in both Mick and Y/N to get wet.

“I think she loves it a little too much.” Mick continued recording until Emmy almost knocked his phone from his hands.

“You want daddy to play with you?” Emmy smiled.

“Well I got her reaction so now daddy will play with his favorite girl. I’m all yours, Emmy.” Mick took Emmy from Y/N’s hands and pressed several kisses on her cheek.

“I can’t believe a baby stole my boyfriend.”

“Don’t be jealous, babe.”

Liked by f1, formula.weekly and 102,879 others

mickschumacher Emmy’s first time at the beach ❤️ y/n.senna

y/n.senna next time, Angie is coming with us

v51975 aw why didn’t Angie join you?

y/n.senna she was with Gina for the weekend

Carmenmmundt my little water baby 🥰❤️

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an clearing my drafts so be prepared for lots of content 🫶🏼

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher one shot #senna!reader #starkwlkr

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peachsayshi · 21 days

Note

Hello can I request a part 5 for the inexperienced reader where they finally do the deed? Thank you and I really love all your writings. You’re amazing!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x inexperienced female reader (part 4) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 7,712

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰ previous parts: 1/2/3/4

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: hi, nonnie! I haven't posted the official part 4 for playboy geto x reader, so here is an update! part 5 is the final part of this mini series and I am still figuring out the scenario for the big moment. I had this idea in my head and really wanted to write out. I hope you enjoy the update!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: other jjk characters are mentioned, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; hurt/comfort; the first fight; making up; smut; oral (f receiving); nipple play; overstimulation; fingering; practice makes perfect *wink wink*

There’s a downpour outside - a peaceful shower trapping you in a cocoon of stillness. Grey clouds collide, orchestrating a rumble of thunder to disperse across the horizon. You squeeze the glass of tea in your hand and breathe out a heavy sigh as you continue observing the waves crashing onto the shore in the distance.

Standing in pensive thought, you find yourself contemplating why the sky isn’t a saturated blue, and why you are not wiping away grains of sand between your toes while tasting the salt in the air and getting kissed by the sun in the red bikini that you are wearing.

This is your first weekend away with Suguru and it was supposed to be perfect…magical even, but…

You haven’t exchanged more than a few of sentences with him in two whole days.

The truth forms as a discomforting lump in your throat. At this point you’re convinced that the turbulent events of this week is what conjured up such a dreadful storm to hijack your mini vacation, and you’ve been a bundle of nerves ever since because you’ve never had a fight with him before.

Not a real one, anyway.

Whenever a situation got remotely tense, your boyfriend would be the first person to jump in to talk things out. Suguru hated having petty arguments and always relied on strong communication to put out any fires before they set everything ablaze. You know it’s entirely unfair to put that expectation on him but, the truth is, you’ve grown used to him mediating, and depended on him to squash potential disagreements without question.

What you weren’t expecting was for things to escalate between you two because it’s never happened before, and now you aren’t sure how to proceed.

What if he leaves me?

The nauseating thought of a potential break up twists your gut, but you brush off your anxiety as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip of soothing chamomile.

Couples fight, you think, it’s normal to fight.

Your fingers pinch the ceramic so hard, you feel it might crack from the pressure. You’ve tried to reach out since then, but Suguru remained unresponsive to your little gestures of peace.

Why is he still ignoring me?

You lean your head against the window and exhale, eyes fixated on the storm’s dramatic performance. A bolt of lighting crackles across the sky, channeling you back to the night on Suguru’s sofa just two weeks prior.

His fingers were trailing the outline of your thigh, keeping your body tucked perfectly into his frame. You were twirling a strand of his onyx hair between your fingers, listening to him proposition the idea of the weekend trip away.

“Yuki is one of my oldest friends. She lives in a beach house, so that’s where we will all stay…” he casually stated. “We visit her a couple of times a year, and I know she would love to meet you.”

You said yes without hesitation.

At the time, there was no need for you to question who Yuki was or how Suguru knew her. There was no need for you to pry deeper into the memories of his past because you were just living in the bubble of present happiness.

“We used to spend every summer at her beach house while I was in university,” Suguru informed you a few days later, slipping in that tidbit of information right after describing all the places he was excited to take you to. “I love that her beach house is so far away from the city. Plus, they have the best soba in the village. You’ll love it, I just know you will…”

This deep infatuation you shared for Suguru had your heart swelling up more often around him. Your valves were arrows to a compass that always spun directly towards him, your shining North Star. Your eyes were glazed over in a rosy shine of deep romance, making it hard for you to blink away the hue of its affection, but you should have taken a breath to catch yourself.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have reacted so harshly later on.

The ”problem”, as Suguru dubs it, happened two days before the trip.

Shoko invited you to join her and Utahime on a shopping date to pick up some new swim suits for the occasion. However, you weren’t expecting to see Mei Mei upon arrival. Your friendship with Shoko made it easier for you to blend in with the rest of Suguru’s group, but Mei always kept you at an arm’s length. For the most part, you approached any interactions with her with caution. You made sure you were nice and didn’t try to pursue anything beyond cordial conversations. Despite your attempts at playing cool, Mei continued making snide remarks about you being “Suguru’s Girl” and enjoyed addressing you condescendingly.

Truthfully, she treated you as if you were simply a stranger with one foot out the door and not the person who was in a committed relationship with her friend.

Your eyes, powdered with pink infatuation, had you feeling indifferent about her sharp tongue on this particular outing, and it made you loosely speak up about how excited you were to go on this trip with your boyfriend.

Your walls were completely down when Mei went in with a new attack while you were all having dinner together.

“It’s adorable how excited you are. Besides, I think it’s about time that you met Kiki…” she giggled, earning a glare from both Shoko and Utahime.

“Kiki?” you replied like a naive child, all wide eyed with an innocent pinch between your brow.

“Suguru didn’t tell you?” Mei coos as she proceeds to take a sip of her milkshake. “That’s his special nickname for Yuki. The two of them used to spend their summers together getting high and fucking. She was his first, you know…”

Your cheeks were stinging with embarrassment. You glanced over to both Shoko and Utahime, praying that one of them would denounce Mei’s confession.

Instead, Shoko shook her head with disapproval and simply added, “we all know that it wasn’t serious…”

“Wasn’t serious?” Mei interjected, her cruel eyes fixed on you. “Suguru was in love with her…”

“He wasn’t in love with her,” Shoko sternly answered. “They were friends. Don’t make up stories in your head”

Mei swirled her straw around her vanilla milkshake. “We are his friends too but that didn’t stop him from hooking up with us either. The only difference is that Yuki is the one who broke his heart afterwards. Suguru didn’t speak to her for an entire year...”

“How about you don’t stir up problems for no reason, Mei.” Utahime bit back, and Mei responded by rolling her eyes with mild disinterest.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Everyone at this table, except Shoko, hooked up with Suguru at one point,” she let out a pretty laugh, one laced with wicked intent. “Maybe this is something we can all bond over at the beach house. Compare notes and what not…”

“How about we dial back the bitchy attitude and put the subject to rest” Shoko interjected, and Mei merely huffed before sipping her milkshake with nonchalance.

Hot, heavy jealousy coiled around your skin, and you used every ounce of restraint not to pick up Mei’s drink and toss it right in her face. By the time your brain was able to connect the dots to formulate even a single sentence, the conversation swiftly moved onto another subject.

You reached for your soda, slurping the icy beverage in an attempt to cool yourself off.

This isn’t the first time that Suguru’s friends have made teasing comments about his past, but Mei took it too far.

The worst part about that god-awful interaction is that it was working out in her favor.

Why didn’t Suguru tell you?

The question sat in your head up until you returned home. You were in a bitter state, choosing to curb Suguru’s calls and ignore Shoko’s messages.

She still called you the next morning with a heartfelt apology.

“We’ve all known Mei for years so we put up with her attitude,” Shoko explained, “But you owe her no allegiance and what she did was uncalled for. I’m really sorry about that…”

“It’s fine, Shoko…” you insisted, but your tone was hard and defensive because it wasn’t fine and you barely got any sleep thinking about what she said.

“I had a long conversation with her last night, and she’ll be backing off from now on,” Shoko consoled.

“Great,” you answered through gritted teeth, trying your best not to hurl the phone at the wall.

“Look,” Shoko added on with a sigh, “I know Suguru doesn’t have the best track record and I know we all give him shit for it, but we also all know that we’ve been too hard on him. He really, really cares about you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You wished those words were enough to sway you back but they felt just as empty as the space in your chest.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You couldn't stop wondering why.

The day before you left for the getaway, you were giving Suguru the coldest shoulder. He had come over to help you pack your things, but instead was left puzzled by your behavior.

You leaned away from his kisses, always tilting so he aimed for your cheek. You shrugged off his touch, pretending to busy yourself with searching through your closet and picking your outfits. You could feel his piercing stare from over your shoulder, those dark eyes dissecting the softest parts of you to get to the root of the problem. You tried to focus on the music from gently playing through the speakers, but as you walked over to your bag to pack another dress, Suguru quickly reached for your hips to drag you onto his lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked seriously, his voice the tip of a sharp blade pressing into your heart.

You shook your head, caressing the fabric between your fingers. “Nothing, I have a headache,” you repeated firmly, sticking to the same excuse that you had given him earlier.

“Sweetheart,” he replied tenderly, your body stiffening when he brushed his lips over your shoulder to leave a contemplative kiss. “What’s actually wrong?”

You froze, your anger scalding your insides as it bubbled to the surface. You squeeze the dress between your hands, creasing the smooth surface. Suguru rests his chin on your shoulder, patiently waiting for you to at least acknowledge him.

“Is it true that you were involved with “your friend” Yuki?”

You hid your hurt with sarcasm, her name rolling off your tongue with a hint of disgust.

Suguru lifted his head from your chin, his fingers pinching against the fat of your hip while his other hand moved to reach for your jaw. He angled your face towards him, a pained expression masking over his breathtaking features.

“Who told you?”

“Mei,” you answered sharply, “apparently Shoko and Utahime know all about it too…”

“Look,” Suguru sighed, “it’s…it’s not what you think…”

“Did you to spend your summers getting high and fucking?” you interrupted harshly, mimicking the cruelty in Mei’s voice as you posed your question.

Suguru closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is it true that she was your first?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly this time.

“Yes, but…”

You rolled your tear soaked eyes as you stood up on your feet, tossing the dress into your bag as you folded your arms across your chest to give Suguru your back.

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The fact that Mei had all the ammunition in the world to hurt your feelings, or that she knew that your doting boyfriend would keep this from you.

Suguru stood up, carefully approaching you from behind as he extended his hand out to find your waist once more.

“Mei’s a gossip,” he contended, “I told you that when we first met…”

You spun on your heel to meet his anxious stare, drilling your fury right into him.

“That’s not the point,” you argued. “The point is that you lied to me! The point is that you spent weeks going on and on about “your friend” without even warning me that you were both intimately involved…”

“We put that shit behind us years ago. I didn’t want to bring it up, and I didn’t think I had to. Mei shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Didn’t think you had to?” you repeated with confusion.

“There was no reason to,” he replied with annoyance, his fingers digging into your waist. “Because you and I are supposed to trust each other, and considering how things have been going between us, I thought we did.”

Your heart raced at the fact that Suguru was still keeping his mouth tight lipped over what happened with Yuki, which did little to help your own dramatized theories on their relationship.

If he was being secretive about something as serious as this, then who knows what other tales he might have been spinning with that honeyed mouth of his.

The knot that’s wrung itself around your mind finally snapped.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have an inventory of people I slept with to keep track of…”

Suguru winced, the involuntary grimace an unusual sign of hurt. Your apology shot to the tip of your tongue, and you were ready to jump right into his arms and plead for forgiveness. This brutish commentary was so unlike you, but you didn’t know how to keep a handle on your own insecurities this time around.

“Keep track, huh?” he answered softly, the faintest hint of distress coming through and making you nip at your bottom lip out of guilt. “Must be hard having a boyfriend who is so used up…”

“No...you're not. That's not what I mean, I’m…I’m just saying that it’s different,” you retracted, easing your delivery to try and explain yourself. “You just don’t have to worry-”

“Is there a reason for you to worry?” he rebuked, quirking his brow in genuine surprise.

You scoffed, “You told me about everyone else you’ve been involved with but with her you are suddenly keeping quiet-”

“Please, tell me you’re fucking joking right now-“

“You can’t-” you interjected, clearing the catch in your throat as your voice warbled uncomfortably. “You can’t just expect me to be okay with this, Suguru. I have to be able to trust you and that’s only going to work if you are honest with me. Keeping something like this from me doesn’t help…”

Suguru dropped his hand away from your waist, and folded them over his chest tightly. There was a twitch in his jaw, and the disappointment in his eyes spoke volumes. You both stood there in silence, studying the other in deep concentration.

“I thought you did trust me. You were practically naked in bed with me when you said it. So what is it then? Do you trust me or not?”

Your face grew increasingly hot recalling his birthday, the way you were soft, vulnerable and pliable sprawled out against his chest...

“I do…” you replied with very little confidence. “Sort of…”

You swallowed your regret to stare down at your feet shamefully, and allowing your pride to fight the battle for you. If you can waver his insecurity even a little then maybe you might find some equal footing with the discomfort.

“I can’t change my past. I can’t erase the people I’ve been involved with. Yes, we both had different opinions about how we viewed relationships, but we aren’t going last long as a couple if I’m the only one that has faith that this is going to work,” Suguru informed calmly, using his fingers to gesture between you both.

Hearing those words from your lover’s lips felt like surprise blow. You parted your mouth to exhale quietly, clenching your hands tightly by your side as you naively waited for him to attempt to turn things around.

“I’ve given you everything. I’m not going to force you to trust me,” Suguru adds on, his tone morphing into a cold, cruel note. “And if you fucking can’t, then I’m done.”

Your head shot up in surprise, the front of your brows upturning sorrowfully but Suguru had already turned on his heel to walk out of the room, slamming your bedroom door right behind him.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

The car ride to the beach house was terrible.

Neither you or Suguru said a single word to one another. He kept his focus on the road, while you kept replaying the words “I’m done” on repeat in your head.

It was disappointing to start off on such a sour note because Yuki’s beach house was the perfect getaway spot as Suguru described. The location was rural, and the building was quaint and cozy. The size is big enough to fit your entire group, but not to the point where it was gaudy. Suguru mentioned that the property belonged to Yuki’s mom, which she eventually inherited after she passed away.

Meeting Yuki took your breath away. From the moment you laid eyes on her you understood how a young Suguru would be infatuated. She was striking - tall, with long, golden hair that cascaded all the way down to her butt. Every part of her was perfect, from her toned tummy revealed by her short black cropped top, to her legs that seemed to go on forever which were covered in only a pair of loose denim shorts. She had a naturally cheeky grin, like there was something up her sleeve that no one could quite point out, and sharp brown eyes that were simply inviting.

She pulled Suguru in for a warm hug, and ruffled his hair like a sister would.

“Sug! Your hair’s getting long! I like it!” she chirped with a big smile, while Suguru held an effortlessly casual stance to play off that the two of you haven’t been ignoring each other this whole time. Yuki instantly turned to face you, “And you must be the girl that stole his heart! I’m so glad to meet you! This guy never shuts up about you…”

You felt small against her, and it wasn’t just due to her height. You could feel yourself shrinking into your own shame hearing her talk about your lover. Whatever doubts that sparked due to Mei’s burning statements were quickly turned to ash.

Yuki gave you a house tour and explained that Shoko was sharing a room with Mei and Utahime, while Satoru and Nanami bunked in another.

“If you’re comfortable you can stay in Suguru’s room. He kind of has his own bedroom from how often he’s stayed with me. If not, I’ve got a pull out sofa in my room,” Yuki informed, while you were trying your hardest to undo the tight knot in your belly.

Getting to know Yuki over the course of the two days only fed into your regret. You couldn’t help but watch her interactions with Suguru, only to conclude it was no different than how he behaved with Satoru and Shoko.

Even when he addressed her as “Kiki”, it came out with a level of comfort that felt a familial familiarity. If it wasn’t for Mei and her devious manipulation games, you would never have even have assumed that the pair were intimately involved with each other.

As your stubbornness started chipping away, you decided to at least try and make amends with your boyfriend.

On the first night, after getting ready for bed, you broke the long hours of silence by asking him where he was going after watching him get ready to leave the room that you both were supposed to be sharing.

“I’m staying with Satoru,” he curtly responded, and slammed the door behind him before you could get another word in.

Yesterday was painful to say the least. You attempted to sit down with him and Satoru for breakfast, but Suguru excused himself only a couple of minutes later. By mid-morning you texted to ask if he would like to join you and Shoko to walk around the village. You even brought up his favorite soba shop, but found yourself left on read.

His behavior was harsh and quite obvious. By lunchtime Shoko pulled you aside to ask if everything was okay.

“We’re fine,” you answered breathlessly, your worry sending tingles to the tips of your fingers and toes. “We got into a bit of an argument in the car, but we’ll talk things over”

Dinner last night was supposed to be a fun get together at one of the local omakase joints, but it turned into you and Suguru sitting on opposite sides of the table barely acknowledging each other.

You were trying to steal his glance, but he wouldn’t stop avoiding yours. Afterwards while all of you were standing outside, you found the courage to reach for Suguru’s hand to grab his attention.

“Hey,” you whispered low enough for only him to hear to avoid making it obvious to the others. Your heart fluttered when you noticed that Suguru didn’t let go of your hand, but instead pressed the pads of his fingers lightly against your palm to return the gesture.

Almost like he was saying hello.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” you asked, eyes hopeful and desperate. “It’s nice outside tonight, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t gauge what he was thinking, but you paid close attention to his reactions. Like the way his eyes dipped to your fingers slightly interlaced with his own, and how his digits were merely tracing yours in the most featherlight touch.

Did he miss you too?

“I’m going out with Yuki tonight,” he announced, his tone sharp and daring.

Your heart winced.

You weren’t used to this side of Suguru at all.

You let go of his hand, and nodded your head to feign acceptance but your throat was tight and tears were glazing over your woeful irises.

“Oh, okay!” you answered with as much confidence as you could muster up. “I guess…I guess I’ll see what Shoko is up to. And-”

Your voice cracked when Suguru let go of your hand. The emptiness a cold touch against your palm.

“I-I hope you guys have fun catching up tonight-“

Suguru nodded his head, taking your breath away for only a second when he leans forward to leave a chaste kiss on your brow. Not giving you a chance to finish your statement.

The gesture shatters you, because you know that it wasn’t genuine.

He was simply putting on a show, keeping up appearances so that the others don't suspect that something is wrong.

You cry yourself to sleep all alone in bed, all the while holding onto the hope that he might just show up to remind you that everything is okay.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You’re still staring out the window, watching the droplets trickle down the glass. Lost in the peaceful moment, you barely hear Suguru enter the bedroom, which is why you jump in shock when you suddenly notice a large hand press firmly against the glass by your side.

“It’s pouring, huh?”

His voice, smooth like velvet and soft like storm clouds sent a tremor of desire in your belly. You steadied the cup in your hand, sensing your body trapped between the window and your boyfriend who was now standing prominently right behind you.

“Yeah,” you whisper quietly, your chest rising and falling with anticipation.

You watch him tap his index finger against the glass, your gaze falling to the bracelet on his wrist. It was the other gift that you gave him on his birthday, and he hasn’t taken it off since. The rain patters outside, the white noise your safety barrier against the awkward tension, but you can feel it brewing behind your spine as you steady your breathing.

“Where did you stay last night?” you ask with a mousy voice, hoping that your tone wasn’t coming across as accusatory but simply concerned for wanting to check in on Suguru’s whereabouts.

“Yuki’s room, we were up late talking…” he responds gently, a hint of amusement in his voice but not one that was cruel. “She told me I could sleep on her pull out only after admitting that I’m acting like a little bitch…”

Your mouth naturally ticked into a smile at his playful tone, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip with relief from the casual delivery.

He huffs out a small laugh, "in case you're wondering, I just so happen to agree with her."

“It’s not just you,” you acknowledge, finding the courage to slowly spin on your heel so you can face him. “I started all of this…”

“Yeah, but you’ve been trying to fix it and I’ve been difficult about it…”

Your body crumples when your eyes met his, the power of his gaze forcing you to press your back against the window to stop yourself from buckling at the knees. His yearning matches yours, and the tension in your shoulders relaxes slightly when you note that he might have actually have been missing you too.

The ease in his expression is a white flag of surrender.

You place your tea cup on the table by your side. “I shouldn’t have let Mei get to me,” you admit, “I was caught off guard, and I took my anger out on you…”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” Suguru adds on, shaking his head in disbelief over his own decision. “I should have been upfront with you about Yuki from the star, I just-” He drops his hand away from the window to find yours, and takes both of them between his fingers. His thumb smooths over your knuckles, his grip firm and protective.

“I just didn’t want to give another reason not to trust me”

Your brows furrow with confusion, and Suguru sighs.

“My family were in a bind financially. Even though I got a full scholarship to univerisity, there still wasn’t enough money to put both Mimi and Nana through school. I've known Yuki since I was sixteen. She told me to spend the summers with her and hooked me up with well paying jobs ,” he explains solemnly, almost like he is ashamed by the situation entirely. “So, that’s what I did. Her mom never stayed during the summer break. And yeah, shit happened between us. We’d get high, fuck around, drink, party…but it was just…a release. It didn’t mean anything else. I swear…”

“Mei said that you loved her,” you fill in, piecing together parts of your own personal indignation. “I think that’s what really got me. Especially when you didn’t tell me yourself. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the secrecy…”

Suguru scoffs, “Mei says that only because I went back summer after summer. I didn’t let anyone else know the real reason why. They had no fucking clue what was going on with me and my last summer with Yuki is when we decided to stop but I-I fucked it up…”

You could see the strain on Suguru’s face, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly to let him know that he could share whatever he needed to say.

“There was this girl that Yuki liked. I mean, really liked. She wouldn’t shut up about her. She was the reason why we stopped sleeping together. One night while we all went out, I got…carried away. I drank too much, I smoked too much, I wasn’t fucking thinking. I don’t even really remember what happened, but when I woke up the next morning…the girl was in my bed. When Yuki found us, she was…heartbroken. She didn’t speak to me for a year, and…I was devastated because her friendship means everything to me. She was the only person who knew how bad things were, and I returned the favor by…well, being myself, I guess…”

“Suguru, don’t say that…” you blurt out, your hands letting go of his as you eagerly clasp his jaw with equal protection. “I see you with your friends. You’re so loyal, and would give them everything if they asked. For somebody whose always so put together, what you did…is so out of character…”

He winced, his eyes narrowing with humiliation but it only taps into your empathy.

You bring his face closer, press your forehead to his own and notice him flutter his eyes close.

“You rarely talk about how hard it was with your family,” you mumble so close to his lips, keeping the conversation as private as possible even though it’s only the two of you in the room together. “I can’t even imagine the kind of pressure you must have been feeling. If you and Yuki are as close as you say are you, I’m sure she came around because she must have seen it too…”

His hands find your your bare waist. “She was the only one who could see it. Satoru, Shoko…it went over their heads…”

The quiet loops in right then, a rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. The hurt in Suguru's voice was loud and clear. The fact that he's always been there, but is so easily forgotten in the long run.

“I need to know,” Suguru confesses, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I need to know what else it’s going to take to get you to trust me because the odds are stacked up against me, sweetheart. And if I can’t make it happen, then I don’t have a single fucking shot at making us happen…”

The sting of regret burns your cheeks once more, and you extend your arms out to circle around your boyfriend’s neck. You want to kick yourself for making him doubt himself, especially after he working so incredibly hard to earn your favor.

“I swore I would never throw your past in your face. I’m so sorry that I did. You’re not the same guy that the people in your life paint you out to be, and I shouldn’t have let them try to convince me otherwise,”

You seal your apology with a small kiss to the corner of his lip, goosebumps pebbling your skin from Suguru’s thumbs tracing tiny streaks up and down your belly. “For whatever reason we don’t seem to make sense to anyone around us…”

When Suguru finds your eyes, you lose yourself into a dark abyss, sinking back into the depths of his soul.

“Is that how you feel too?” he questions seriously, “that we don’t make sense?”

You shake your head instantly to disregard the claim.

“Being with you is the only thing that I seem to understand, and I think that’s why I’m so scared to let you in,” you admit, the past forty eight hours of desperation formulating the next statement on the tip of your tongue. “I’m falling in love with you, Suguru. And-And I can’t seem to stop it from happening…”

Your breathless at the proclamation, your heart hammering so hard in your chest like it’s ready to burst out and bury itself into Suguru’s instead.

You watch your lover pull back slightly, his brows raise with astonishment.

“In love…” he breathes, like he can't believe the words himself, “with me?”

You nod your head, your hands roaming back to the front of his chest where you can feel his own stammering heart against your palm.

"Yeah, with you."

Suguru withers into your touch, his hand cradling your jaw as he dips in to press his mouth over yours. He parts his tongue to deepen the kiss, the weight of his body pushing yours into the surface, where behind you lightning bolts across the sky and grey clouds envelop you both in a shadowy cocoon.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You freely unravel, your joy sparking from the tips of your toe as to the top of your head knowing that your lover has chosen not to abandon you, knowing that you both are desperately seeking forgiveness.

You swear to yourself that it’ll never get this far again.

Suguru baptizes you with his kiss; it was a long reminder of your submission, of fully surrendering your feelings towards him. In between he moves your body, away from the glass and across the room, until you're pinned underneath him on the bed. He uses one hand to undo the wrap skirt around your waist, leaving you clad in your bikini to bathe under the light of his love instead.

His index finger loops around the string of your bikini top. He pulls away from the wet kiss, the tip of his nose lightly brushing your own, with the heat pooling in those dark irises enough to singe your skin.

“I’m not done with you,” he confirms, going back to the statement that ate away at you like a parasite. “Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever be…”

A lock of his hair brushes his brow, and you move it aside to kiss the space.

“Even if you were, I’m not willing to let you go that easily,” you counter because you need him to hear it. You need him to understand that you see what he’s put into this relationship and that you are more than willing to return the effort.

He smiles, and it’s devastatingly perfect it makes you want to scream at the heavens for allowing someone to be this beautiful.

“Still think I’m worth the trouble?”

Your fingers trace down the bridge of his nose, your heart gooey and soft in more ways than you can understand.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you, Sugu.”

His head tilts with curiosity, eyes drooping in contemplation. He doesn’t say it but you can hear him asking “are you sure?”, but his doubt is enough for you to seal the truth with a kiss, and when Suguru returns it, you’re once again dissolving in his affection.

Your limbs tangle into one another, your bodies pressed so close that you can feel every hard muscle. The bed sheet rumples, is lifted away from the corners as it gathers messily. Suguru’s hand glides up your torso, over the swell of your breasts, and he hooks his fingers around your throat to tilt your neck to the side and allowing him the access to kiss the column.

You thoughtfully sigh, your eyes fluttering close at the sensation of him sucking on your delicate flesh. He leaves a trail in his wake, and you shiver when his hot breath fans your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions in a hush tone, his voice dipping down an octave and sprinkled with desire.

You nod your head.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your body seizes, every single cell on fire. There’s a catch in your throat, and your thighs clench together nervously at the suggestion.

You tilt your head back to face him, your noses and lips bumping in the process. “I-I can do it for you-”

He interrupts you by shaking his head, his mouth carefully kissing your cupid’s bow. “You’ve gone down on me three times already…”

You can feel yourself soaking through your bottoms. A mixture of pleasure and shame heating your cheeks.

“But...what if-what if you don’t like it? I read somewhere that not all guys do...”

Suguru scoffs, baring his teeth as he gives you a full grin. He prods the tips of his nose onto yours, wiggling it teasingly from side to side.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he confesses before adding, “I promise you, I’ll like it”

Your heart is beating so fast you can’t think, but your body speaks another language as your thighs naturally spread a little wider to invite him in.

“Okay, yeah-” you consent, “yeah, you can…”

He smirks, his hands tracing to the strings of your bottoms. You lift your hips, watching him shimmy the fabric down your legs. He stuffs the material in his back pocket, his palms spreading your inner thighs apart.

You sit yourself up on your forearms to study your boyfriend with intrigue.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty…” he sighs, his attention focused on the triangle between your legs, and your belly flutters at the direct compliment.

He doesn’t move for a second, his hands adding the slightest bit of pressure on the meat of your thighs. He licks his lips and breathes out once more, taking just a second to compose himself.

“It’ll only feel good, no pain,” he informs, “but if it’s too much for you, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Your hips relax further into the mattress, his assurance easing some of your apprehension. Your boyfriend knows how sensitive you are at this point, but you nod your in head in acknowledgement while gratefully appreciating that he regards you with such consideration.

He kisses up the apex of your thigh, carefully avoiding your sex to find a path to you hips. His tongue is sof and warm, tasting every part of your skin as it travels across your lower belly and further down your pubis. You gasp at the sensation of his breath so close to your cunt, your calf twitching when he finally places a gentle kiss on your lips.

And another kiss.

And a fourth until your toes curl and he finally flattens his tongue along the slit.

“Oh,” you coo, the sensation so delicate and delicious. Suguru drags his love between your folds, up and down, and side to decide, his mouth circling around each lip as he sucks on them in between returning to glide his tongue around.

Your legs clasp around his neck, your heels resting comfortably on his back. The sound of Suguru sucking and licking up your pussy reverberates along with the storm outside. He reaches one arm to find your hand, and you intertwine your fingers to hold him tightly. His other hand slithers up your torso, and slips underneath your bikini top. He pushes the fabric above your breast, his thumb and index finger finding your tender nipple which he massages steadily as his uses his mouth to pleasure you.

The sensation builds, filters throughout your body in waves that roll over and over again. You squeak when he sucks on your clit, your heels pressing into his back but the weight of his body holds you in place to keep you from wandering away.

Your brows furrow, little tremors shaking your collar bones and your belly. “Suguru,” you whine sweetly, a moan following after when he pinches your nipple and nibbles on your clit. He lets go of your hand, his touch traveling down to your legs. He spreads your pussy, giving himself more access to bury his soft tongue deeper, further, to taste more of your nectar as it dribbles down his chest like he’s biting into fruit.

He groans into your cunt.

He grazes his tongue over your weeping hole, and your body thrashes with anguish and rapture. Your eyes spark in white, glittering like the lightning as it bursts and recedes into the ceiling above you. The band in your core is a tight spring that finally unfurls quickly and quite suddenly, your orgasm unfolding throughout your stuttering body.

“Oh, god…” you cry out, your back arching as Suguru keeps his mouth over your cunt, his hand holding you down by your lower body.

You gasp, panting heavily trying to cope with the aftermath. You think that Suguru might stop, but instead you feel him paint kisses all over your sex, rolling your nipple between his finger and moving to suck on your throbbing clit.

“Sugu?” you call out, your spine shuddering.

“Hmm?” he answers, his tongue massaging across the bud.

“You’re still…” you whimper, “you’re still going?”

He releases you with a pop, blowing air over the swollen bud before smiling into another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I can keep going”

Suguru only manages to keep his word by delivering another orgasm with his mouth buried against your cunt. You had tears in your eyes when you came, panting out “no more” with desperation because you couldn’t handle the detachment you were feeling in your own skin.

It feels so fucking good, but all too much at the same time.

Suguru doesn’t push. He won’t test his boundaries right now. Not when you’re just a vulnerable kitten in his eyes. No, the stamina will require time and patience, and for you to get used to him in the bedroom as well.

His disappointments sits between his brows when he pulls away, his hand smoothing over the curve of your pelvis as he kisses your hip and lower belly. He crawls over you like a panther, his shoulder blades rising with each calculative moment. You can smell yourself against his lips, savor your own arousal when he dips in for a kiss.

“Taste like heaven, baby girl,” he mumbles, his balmy words running over your skin like hot oil. “I could eat you out all night…”

He traces the column of your neck with his lips, and grins into your skin. You’re too shy to say anything, and he knows it. He presses his mouth against your neck, pecking over the marks that he’s imprinted.

Your hands fumble to reach for his jeans, your body desperate to do something for him too but Suguru grabs your wrists and pins them to your side before standing upright and undoing his jeans himself.

“Relax,” he insists.

Your eyes fall to his large hands undoing the button, and then unzipping the front of his pants. His grey boxers have a noticeable wet spot, and your pupils dilate when he pulls his dick out for you to see.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He pumps his cock a few times, sighing heavily as his thumb runs over the slit. To your surprise he shifts his position, and adjusts himself until he’s perfectly aligned with you.

He taps the fat, mushroom head over your clit. “You just open up for me, don’t you?” he whispers deviously, “Let’s practice…��

He slides his dick back and forth over your slit, supports his movements by holding both your knees as he grinds his length against your cunt.

“See how far I’ll stretch you out?” he mumbles, eyes hazy with hunger. “See how deep I’ll go?”

He slides his hands up and down your thighs, rocking back and forth and using you for friction. Soft grunts and moans escape him, and in between he halts for only a second when your quivering hand finds his length. His hips stutter when you start to lightly jack him off, your thumb teasing over the head.

Your eyes fall close, imagine the burn of him spreading you apart, of him making love to your body as you mold into his frame. To feel him in all his glory, for your bodies to become.

The image is raw, vulnerable, and so, so perfect.

There is nobody else you would rather give yourself too.

Suguru is the one.

“I can’t wait,” you beg dreamily, “Need you inside me, I can’t wait-”

His grip on you tightens out of surprise upon hearing your words, and he suddenly thrusts harshly as he curses out a broken “fuck”. Ribbons of white spurt out of him, painting your belly and tainting parts of your chest.

The both of you freeze as you look down, caught off guard by what just happened.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

Suguru cleaned you up using a wet towel to wipe his cum off your belly and chest. You discarded your bikini top afterwards while he removed his jeans, with the two of you then choosing to snuggle up against one another under the sheet.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Suguru confesses, finally breaking the silence. There was a slight blush tinting his cheek bones, and you giggle as you cradle his face in your palm and trace the shade of red.

“You’re usually so in control,” you playfully remark, and Suguru simply rolls his eyes.

“Not with you, I’m not,” he admits, his arm clenching around your waist as he closes the gap of space to tuck you into his chest.

You breathe in his scent, nuzzling your nose into the fabric of his tee.

"I'm glad we're okay now."

"I am too"

You curl your fingers around his shirt. “On your birthday, and just now…we could’ve…just gone all the way. You could’ve just-”

“Not here,” Suguru states seriously, the intensity in his voice prompting you to tilt your chin up and meet his stare. He plays with your ear, traces the shell thoughtfully before gently tugging on your lobe.

The butterflies flutter once again, your irises tinting in pink. You lean forward to kiss the sharp angle of his jaw.

“What was it like for you? Your first time?”

Suguru sighs, and purses his lips as he contemplates the memory. “Yuki was good to me, and it was nice,” he admits, but you’re entranced with the way he holds your gaze. “I sure as hell wasn’t as nervous as I am now…”

“Is that why you keep holding back?” you question innocently, apropping yourself on your elbow to rest your head on your hand. The bed sheet falling and exposing your chest.

Suguru’s eyes fall, his touch tracing the slope to outline the curve of your breast. “Do you want your first time to happen after a petty argument?”

You pout your lips with amusement. “Does it matter?”

“You’re not the only one who might be in love, sweetheart,” he responds, his words greeting the shining sun peeking through the clouds. “Of course it matters.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

tags: @sellenite @kiwibao @allofffmypeaches @sugurussbby @kunigamisbaby @pandoraium @brownskinnedgirll

my works are available on tumblr and ao3 - any fics reposted on other platforms or other Tumblr blogs have been plagiarized. do not share my works on social media (tiktok etc.) © peachsayshi

#playboy geto x inexperienced reader #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto angst #suguru geto angst #hurt/comfort #jujutsu kaisen fan fictions

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