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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

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Wanda//for it is only temporary

Request: Can I request A Wanda Maximoff x Reader, where reader's part of sword and they get stuck in Westview somehow, maybe they get powers similar to monica, and go to wanda for help

hey! i hope you like this!! this is my first wanda request so i’m sorry if it sucks, but here you go anyway! and thank you @statticscribbles for helping me with this! i’d be lost without you.

“Hold on, what?” Jimmy says and you stop to look up at him. You’re met with concerned eyes from everyone in the room, including Hayward and your own eyes widen a little in surprise.

You cough and look away, busying yourself with the suit that you’re hoping is intact and ready for a trip through the hex. You can feel them staring at you, and it makes your skin crawl, despite the majority of them being your friends as well as colleagues.

They’re waiting for an explanation so they can tell you how bad of an idea it is. And you know it is, you don’t need them to tell you. You’ve spent enough time sat beside the invisible wall trying to find a way in and maybe whatever has caused Monica to rewrite her DNA has seeped into you, but even if it has, at least you haven’t been through it, you’re less likely to...well, to die. And you’ll take those odds, it’s better than the almost guaranteed death of Monica.

“Think about it, Monica can’t exactly go back in, I mean it’s changed her DNA...no offence.” You send her a sympathetic look and she crosses her arms, a small scowl pulling at her lips. “But I haven’t been in, and I know Wanda, well I know her more than all of these people with guns that are gonna be pointed at her as soon as they find her. I can talk to her, like Monica said, she clearly needs help and well, I know what she’s going through, if anyone can help her and those people that are stuck in there, it’s me.”

“Y/-” Darcy starts but you cut her off, the tension in the air is already too heavy, it sits on your chest, making it harder and harder to breath and it’s not helped by all of the concerned looks you’re getting.

“Plus, what era are we in now? The 80s? I’ve always wondered what I’d look like with a perm.” You try to ease the tension with a joke, but the best you get is a forced smile from Jimmy that just makes you feel worse. “I’ll be fine. I have hundreds of people monitoring everything that goes on in there, and I have you.” You look at Darcy and her expression softens. “I know that as soon as you notice one thing wrong, you’ll be the one leading the army in, but please, trust me.” You squeeze her shoulder and she sighs, slumping back in her seat. “Just let me try.”

“Please, don’t kill me!” You panic and throw your arms in the air. Wanda’s hand lowers a few centimetres, but her eyes still glow red and you remind yourself not to breathe too hard, you know, just in case. “I need your help.” You add and her arm drops to her side. She looks behind her, at the sage coloured house that keeps the three people she holds dearest to her. She knows exactly what each of them are doing. Tommy and Billy are using their dad as a climbing frame, and she should be in the kitchen, making them dinner and smiling as she listens to their laughter.

But then she see’s the panic in your eyes. You look scared and she knows she doesn’t know you, but somewhere deep down she feels like she does. Maybe in another life you were friends, maybe if things were different, you would be friends.

“Listen, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.” You slowly walk closer to her and she stands straighter. “But there is a bunch of people outside of this place with guns and bombs and god knows what, just waiting to come in here and destroy it. But I’m not one of them, and neither is Monica or Darcy or Jimmy. In fact, Darcy and Jimmy have been enjoying this maybe a little too much, but that’s not the point. We want to help you, but we can’t do that if you keep kicking us out, because the people with the guns will come in and they will tear this place down, no matter what.” You explain and you watch her expression change. It goes from confusion, to anger and finally settles on sadness as tears pool in her eyes.

“So why are you here?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks you up and down.

“Because I wanted to talk to you.” You say and she raises her hands, twisting and turning them together and your eyes widen in panic. You quickly stand straighter and wave your hands around. “But, not anymore.” You add quickly. “Listen, before I came in here, I couldn’t do this.” You say and your eyes change from their normal colour to an icy blue.

“Oh.” Wanda says confused and you nod slowly.

“Yeah. I also wasn’t bulletproof and I could barely fight my way out of a sleeping bag that one time I went camping, but I can now have people on the floor in seconds without breaking a sweat. I don’t know what to do. On the way here, an older woman asked how I was and I threw her into a house across the street.” You frown and watch her think for a few seconds. “So, please help. Because, well I can’t seem to control these and I actually quite like not assaulting random people.”

“What do you think I can do?” She blinks and glances back at her house again.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “But you created this place, and you seem to be pretty good at controlling your powers...most of the time.” You mumble the last part and she glares at you. “But well, I figured who better to talk to when you suddenly find yourself become a superher-Oh, holy shit! Am I gonna be an avenger-right sorry, not the time.” You shake your head and she stares at you blankly for a few seconds. “I’m Y/n by the way.” You add quickly and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine.” She nods. “I’ll help, but any mention of destroying this place and I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to use your newly found powers anymore.” She threatens making you gulp.

With a flick of her wrist, your suit is transformed into a pair of blue jeans and a very loud t-shirt. Bright eye shadow irritates your eyes and when you try to move your hair from your eyes, your met with tight curls and your face lights up.

“Did you just give me a perm?” You ask and she looks at your hair before nodding.

“I thought you’d like it.” She shrugs. “Don’t get used to this. You’re only here until you learn to control your powers and then I’m kicking you out and nobody is going to bother my family again.” She says lowly and you gulp.

You’re about to reply when footsteps come running down the path towards you. You look up and see Tommy and Billy running towards you with bright smiles on their faces. Vision follows shortly after and you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds, it’s like you’re looking at a ghost. He smiles at you and you return it before focusing your attention on the boys, it’s too much to see Vision alive and well right now.

“Boys, this is Y/n, she’s just moved in across the street.” She introduces you to the twins and they grin and wave at you.

“Hey,”

There’s an awkward silence for a few seconds before Wanda jumps in and paints a bright smile on her face.

“Why don’t we welcome her to the neighbourhood and go bake some cookies for her!” She says and the boys cheer before running back into the house.

Vision waves at you, but it feels off, it’s like he’s trying to figure out if he’s seen you around. And he has, just not here.

“Dad!” Tommy shouts and Vision pulls his gaze away from you. He blinks and follows his sons back into the house.

It’s just you and Wanda now, and as soon as Vision walks through the front door, her smile falls.

“Remember what I said.” She says and you nod quickly.

“Yep, only temporary.” You reply and she gives you an approving look, before walking away. You look around, hoping that Darcy and Jimmy are watching and send them an unsure thumbs up.

The credits roll, over a freeze frame of your face, and Darcy and Jimmy stare at each other.

“Shit.” Darcy mumbles.

support my writing! if you want!

#wandavision #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

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Show Pony

Chapter 2: Legends Never Die

Read on Ao3

Billy was watching porn when Steve texted.

He’s never clicked out of a video so fucking fast in his life.

The message just read hey, this is steve :) which like, of course, the fucker uses little emoticons. Of course , he types out little smiley faces. It’s so dumb. It’s so cute.

And Billy just stared at it. One hand still on his dick, the other hovering over the keyboard.

What the fuck does he reply?

Obviously, Steve knows it’s Billy. Like. Duh.

So he just tapped out a little Hey.

Steve texted back almost immediately.

you have a good day? Billy found himself grinning maniacally, so he rolled over to hold his pillow close to his chest, burying his chin into it. He didn’t wanna deal with the fact that this stupid adorable cowboy was making him smile and flush. Stupid.

Yeah, it was nice. Way too hot, but nice.

lol try wearing jeans in that heat. sweatin through my damn saddle. Billy laughed into his pillow.

Jesus, you’re such a fuckin hick. Billy bit his tongue when he pressed send.

And Steve just sent back >:(. And God. He’s so cute. Billy. Hates him.

And then Billy’s phone buzzed twice, another brand new text from Steve.

One that made Billy’s heart fucking stop.

i have the day off tomorrow. no tiedown on the schedule. you should come by and we could hang

Which sounded like. A date. It sounded like a fucking date. And Billy wanted to ask. If Steve’s invitation was for a goddamn date.

But like, he can’t just ask. Can he? Is that weird? Okay, maybe he’ll just-

Should I bring Max?

Right? Like if Steve says to bring his little sister, then there’s no way it’s a date. Because, who would want their date to bring their little sister? People who are just hanging out as friends, that’s who.

was hoping it'd just be you and me

And hoo boy. Hoo boy. That’s. That’s a fucking. That’s a date.

Then yeah. Just you and me.

And Steve sent him another little :) because the fucker loves his emoticon smiley faces. They’re not even, like, actual emojis. Steve doesn’t take the time to use fucking apostrophes, but he does type out little faces.

And maybe Billy’s spending too much time thinking about the smiley little shits.

But, like. It’s just. It’s Steve. And it’s a cute fucking thing that Steve does.

Billy’s pretty much obsessed with him by now.

And maybe Billy should ask for, like, a time to meet. But he was halfway through a video and his cock’s still hard and kinda starting to ache, pressed against the mattress where it was. He rolled over, slid his hand back into his shorts, and wrapped his fingers around the base of himself.

So it’s easy just to, slide it up. Run his fingers along his length. Pretend his rough hand is Steve’s rough hand. Pretend the tight vice grip is Steve’s mouth. Hot and slick around him.

He could picture Steve, on his knees in the dirt, those tight fucking jeans beginning to stain at the knees, those big pretty eyes looking at him so reverently, so softly.

And he came all over his hand, pictured those pink pretty lips covered with cum. Imagined scooping it on his fingers, pressing them into Steve’s mouth, making him lick them clean.

It wasn’t even the most depraved fantasy Billy’s ever had. But it was for sure in his top five best orgasms. No doubt about it.

He wiped his hand on the sheets, turning onto his side, staring at the short little conversation with Steve.

Thinking about their fucking date tomorrow.

Max was on his ass the second he woke up.

She cornered him as he was coming out of the bathroom, making him startle and nearly smack her.

“The fuck you doing out here, Shitbrid?”

“What are we doing today?”

“ We aren’t doing shit all. I will be heading out. Soon.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, jutting her jaw in a way he absolutely knows she learned from him.

“Are you going to the rodeo?” she hissed through her teeth at him. “Are you going to see-”

“That’s none ‘a your fuckin’ business.” He pushed past her, lumbering down the hall, almost making it into his bedroom before she slipped inside with him, slapping his elbow and kicking the door closed.

“Are you going on a date ?”

Billy glared at her. He clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Pretty sure we agreed not to fucking talk about this shit here.”

She pursed her lips, shifting her jaw.

“Just nod or shake your head.”

Billy kept his head very still.

She kicked him once in the shin before stomping out of his room, nearly slamming the door, catching it at the last minute, and closing it quietly.

Neil didn’t approve of doors slamming in his house.

It was rule number. Three probably. First rule was don’t be a smartass. Second rule was don’t be Billy. That was kind of an unspoken rule. But it was there.

And Billy was faced with his newest dilemma.

What does he wear?

Because it’s gonna be another hot fucking day, and his typical date outfits have more, more.

He’s got one clean pair of cut-offs left. Okay. Yes. And he puts on a printed button-up shirt. Leaves it almost all the way unbuttoned, because, like, of course, he does. He’s got a good body. He wants Steve to see it.

He’ll be mostly cool, and he looks better than he did last time he saw Steve.

Black Converse complete the look, and he maybe spends more time than he usually would putting his hair into a ponytail, using one of Max’s bright scrunchies.

She’ll get pissed if she notices it but. Whatever. He steals them from her all the fucking time.

He hasn’t looked at his phone all morning, figured he could head over to the rodeo, and whenever Steve texted, he’d play it cool and act like he wasn’t already there.

But, cowboy hick Steve was obviously an early riser. As the most recent text Billy has is from that cowboy hick Steve. At six. In the morning.

you wanna meet up around ten?

It was currently just past nine.

Does Billy head up there now and wander around the grounds for a bit?

Yes. Yes, he does. Because frankly, he looks gay as fuck in this outfit and he should probably dip before his dad sees.

He sends Steve a thumbs up and the three dots show up almost immediately, showing Steve typing.

you got a car right? can you pick me up outside of the parking lot? i gotta get outta here

And Fuck. Billy knows that feeling.

No problem. You wanna get breakfast? I know a good diner if you’re into that kinda thing.

hell yeah im into that :)

Ah, yes. There was that little happy face just in time to give Billy lots of nice heart palpitations.

Great. That’s what he needs. To get sappy and gross over Steve’s emoticons. Again.

He slipped out of his house without interference, taking a lap around the block just to kill time before setting off to the fairgrounds.

He was trying to make his car look presentable, shoving the few gum wrappers Max left by the gear shift into his pocket, brushing off any stray cigarette ash with one of the baby wipes in the glove box.

And by the time he reached the fairgrounds, he saw Steve skulking along the front of the parking lot, hopping over cracks in the sidewalk like the cutest little bunny.

It was the most adorable thing in the fucking world.

Billy pulled up next to him, blaring the horn and watching Steve startle at the sound.

He was wearing cut-off denim shorts like Billy’s, and a goddamn crop top. It had the silhouette of a horse on its hind legs, its mane flowing in the wind behind it, and Harrington American Rodeo brandished across his chest. It was cut just at his waistline, where his body nipped in right above his hips.

Steve smiled his pretty smile at Billy, just about skipping around the front of the car to slide into the passenger seat.

And Billy tried not to think about how fucking good Steve looked in the passenger seat of his car, those long fucking legs all on display, his thighs, thick and pale, covered in dark hair.

“Hi,” Steve was leaning with one elbow on the center console, putting himself in Billy’s space, and Billy was thankful for his dark aviator sunglasses, as his eyes went wide and probably panicked with Steve moving in so close.

Because if Steve was leaning in to kiss him, that kinda feels like a lot. And Billy’s not a prude, not by any means but he's, he’s got lines, and rules, and-

Steve just knocked his head into Billy’s shoulder, leaning back to buckle his seatbelt, like headbutting Billy’s shoulder was casual and normal.

And fuck.

Billy’s in so deep for this guy he barely fucking knows.

All he could do was push the car forward, and will away the flush on his cheeks. And pretend like he hadn’t jerked off to the person sitting next to him less than twelve hours ago.

“So. Billy. Tell me about yourself.” Steve shifted in his seat, turning to look right at Billy. “All I know is that you’ve got a kid sister, a cool car, and that you’re really hot.”

Billy smirked, turning to look at Steve over his glasses, found Steve biting his bottom lip demurely.

“Well, there’s not much else to know .”

“Oh, come on. Where are you from? How old are you? Shit, probably shoulda asked that sooner. Please, tell me you’re not fifteen or something.”

“I’m literally driving, right now. And relax, Pretty Boy. I’m eighteen next month.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I’m eighteen, by the way. Just so you know, that I’m not fifteen.” Billy shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But I still want answers to the other questions.”

“Well, I’m from here. Born and raised in San Diego. Uh, I graduated high school in May. And I work at the diner I’m about to take you to, which might be the lamest shit in the world, but they have good pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Steve was fiddling with some of the knobs in the car, turning the air conditioner up and down. Billy was just resisting slapping his hand away.

And then he reached for the volume knob on the radio, turning up the Ratt Billy had playing, and audibly scoffed.

“God, I should’ve known you liked this .”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Just, you know. Sex charged drug-fueled hair metal.”

“Oh my God. What in the fuck ?” He gave Steve as incredulous a look as he could muster. “Are you a housewife from the fifties?”

Steve gave one of his excellent bright laughs at Billy, and Billy’s gut got a little bit gay and a little bit fluttery.

“Alright, Stevie. I’ll bite. What kinda music are you into? And if you say country I’m blowing my fuckin’ brains out.”

“Well, unfortunate then because, yeah. Fuckin’ country, man. Although, I prefer folk.”

“See, you call my music sex-charged and drug-fueled, at least I’m not listening to posers rant about their tractors.”

“Oh, no. I hate that shit as much as you do. I mean like, Johnny Cash. Willie Nelson, you know? Emmylou Harris, Marty Robbins, Miss Dolly. The good stuff. There’s like, a few modern artists that are doing the same kinda thing that I like. It’s all just stories and good music.”

“That’s all my music is. Stories set to music. And, you say my shit is drug-fueled, you do know that Willie Nelson is famous for being a stoner? And that Johnny Cash publicly dealt with addiction and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but they’ve got class.”

“Okay, Cowboy. I’ll let you die on that fuckin’ hill while I party it up on mine to some eighties metal.”

And Steve reached out to shove Billy lightly, laughing while he did it.

“Agree to fucking disagree then. Just take me to pancakes and don’t try to reason with me about shitty music.”

“Then change the subject. Tell me other things about you besides your terrible music taste.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, blowing out a puff of air.

“Uh, I mean. Jeez. I don’t do much besides the rodeo, you know? Just movin’ all over the country.”

“That must be. Exhausting.”

Steve reached out to brush his fingers against the dashboard mindlessly.

“It’s not so bad. I try to make friends in the towns, you know? Makes it kinda fun.”

“Where were you born?”

“Indiana. Really small town. My mom and I stayed there for three years while my father traveled around. I’ve been on the road since.”

“Holy shit. Since you were three? Did you, like, go to school?”

“No. Uh, I actually have a tutor that’s on the road with us, and I’m. You know. Supposed to get my high school diploma soon. I’m behind schedule since,” he waved his hand flippantly. He was staring at his lap, playing with the frayed hem of his shorts. And Billy was grasping for another subject as Steve’s cheeks went red. Because obviously school, had struck a nerve.

“What kinda horse is June?”

“She’s an American quarter horse. That’s the usual type for most rodeo events. They’re good ranch horses because they’re a little more compact. I’ve been with June for five years now, and she’s a beast. I’ve got two others with me, on rotation so that none of them get too tired doing the shows over and over. June, Patsy, and Loretta. They’re all quarter horses, and each one is only about fourteen and a half hands tall. I like my horses a bit smaller for tie-down.”

“I understood, honestly, like, nothing of what you just said.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly over the radio at Billy’s confusion.

He laughed a lot.

Billy liked it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you rodeo slang. You’ll be a natural,” Steve said, reaching out to where Billy’s right hand was resting on the gearshift, wrapping his finger’s around Billy’s wrist.

“What about their names?”

“All ladies of country. Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, and June Carter. Carter-Cash, I guess. She married Johnny but had a career in her own right.”

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ hick.”

“You’ve said that before. Just because I’m in the rodeo-”

“No, it’s because you’re in the rodeo, and listen to country music, and wear fucking cowboy boots -”

“They are literally made for riding horses, okay? That’s why they were invented .”

Billy rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling brightly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.

It wasn’t too busy for a Sunday morning. Billy bets it’ll pick up in an hour or so for the brunch crowd.

He began working at the diner three years ago, bussing tables and washing dishes, getting paid under the table because technically, he was too young to work. He was a server now, usually taking the evening dinner shifts to miss that time when his dad was home from work.

The bell jingled above their heads as Billy held the door open for Steve, and Billy stuck his tongue out at the kitchen staff, leaning over the counter to swipe a few menus from the stack.

He led Steve to a booth in the back corner, waving at Lorraine, the older woman who was working their section, gesturing to the booth for Steve to take a seat.

“Wow. You’ve totally got this place on lock.”

Billy grinned at him, leaning against the wall to stretch his legs up on the booth next to him.

“I’ve worked here a few years. Kinda done all the staff positions. It’s a nice place.”

“Well, then what do you recommend?” Steve carefully opened the laminated menu, his big eyes flicking over the pictures on the side of every dish.

“Pancakes are good, so are the waffles though, if you’re into that. I like the full breakfast. Eggs, bacon or sausage, hash browns, pancakes, or toast. Kinda the best of everything.”

Steve snapped his menu shut, smiling softly at Billy.

“I’m trusting you with my breakfast here. It better be good .”

Lorraine approached their table, already pouring Billy a cup of coffee and sliding it to him along the table.

“You really love us that much you find your way in here on your day off?”

“Only you, Lorraine. Everybody else can fuck off for all I care.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at Billy.

“You want the usual cook-up?”

“Yes, please.”

She took his unopened menu, turning and smiling brightly at Steve.

“What can I get for you, Darling.”

Steve’s eyes were wide when he looked up at her, his cheeks starting to flush.

“Uh, just, the same as Billy, please.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No, Ma’am. Just a water for me please.” He handed his menu back, giving her a bright smile, his cheeks a soft rosy red.

Lorraine winked at Billy, nodding her head once in Steve’s general direction. Billy waved her off before she could say something embarrassing.

“Sorry, I get kinda weird sometimes.” Steve had pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on their table and was looking down at it, tearing off little chunks and rolling them into balls.

“That’s okay. Lorraine gets it. Plus, you were polite, and that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if you were an ass to servers.”

“Oh, God. My dad is such an ass when it comes to, really any staff. Like, servers, or, frankly, most of the people that work for him. Don’t even get me started on the animal carers. I mean, that’s probably the most important job at the whole rodeo, and he’s been trying to dock pay left, right, and fucking center.” Steve rolled his big eyes, huffing like Max.

“Wait, so your dad is like, the head of the whole operation?”

“My name is Steve Harrington,” and Steve pointed at his shirt, the name Harrington emblazoned over the horse.

“Oh damn. I thought that name was familiar when I saw the shirt. Figured I had just seen the rodeo name or something.”

“Nope. That’s me. A whole Harrington. My great-grandpa started the rodeo. He was, like, an actual ranch hand. Started one in the town we’re from. My grandpa was the one who got the idea to take it on the road. My dad came up through it like I did. He was in steer roping. And basically, his end goal is that I start running the whole show in a few years. Take over for him.”

“And, you don’t want to?”

“Nah. I don’t really have a brain for business. Don’t have a brain for much other than riding and tie-down, honestly. Don’t know the first thing about how to run a traveling rodeo.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes seemed sad, and his smile was tight.

“You got plans for next year? College or anything?”

“Nah. I think college is, on the horizon, but I’m taking a gap year. Saving up to move out and pay for school and everything. Probably gonna go to community college to save some money. And then maybe grad school?”

“That’s smart, you know? Finding ways to save up. My dad is debating pushing college on me. Like, if I do run the business, there’s some shit I should know going into it, right? But I think he also sees that I’m way too dumb for college, and, like, I don’t need a degree to get hired. I’ll just,” Steve made an upwards sweeping gesture with his right hand. A gesture that Billy understood to vaguely mean nepotism.

“What would you rather do? If not run the thing.”

“I like tie-down, and I could feasibly do it for a long time. I could branch into other events, too, like steer roping and all that. Same idea as calf roping but a different animal. Literally. It’s a steer. But I’d be content just doing the events until I croak. I have absolutely no desire to rise through the ranks, or whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes, balling up the little napkin wads he had made into another napkin from the dispenser. Billy appreciated it. He’s had to clean up crap like that from this very floor. “I just love being around the rodeo. The animals and all the people. I don’t really wanna be anywhere else.”

“At least you have something you love. Like, you’d be happy to do that for the rest of your life, and not in an I’ve got nothing better to do way, but in an, I’m passionate about this way. A lot of people don’t really. Get that.” Billy included.

It’s not that he doesn’t have passions, it’s just that they’re not necessarily sustainable to him.

He knows he’s dangling by a thread with his father. Knows after his eighteenth birthday, he should be ready to be kicked out or asked to pay rent at any time. He needs a career that’ll get him some fucking money if he wants to get out and cut off his dad entirely. He can’t be forced to go crawling back to him because he wanted to self-publish his gay ass poetry that never took off or drum in a rock band that went nowhere.

To name a few.

“Yeah, I mean. Sometimes I think that I probably would’ve never set foot in a rodeo if I wasn’t literally born into one, so I kinda wonder who I’d be if this wasn’t everything I knew, but I still really love doing it, and it’s something that I’m actually good at, which speaks volumes.”

They were interrupted by Lorraine returning, placing two identical plates in front of them, a glass of water for Steve, and pulling hot sauce and ketchup out of her apron pocket.

“You two let me know if you need anything else.”

Steve beamed at her, thanking her softly and Billy’s heart fluttered like a stupid idiot.

They tucked in, Steve shoving food into his mouth until his cheeks were bulging, chewing aggressively. It made Billy laugh and nearly spew coffee all over the table.

“I figured you’d have better manners, being the heir to a rodeo dynasty or whatever.”

Steve pulled a face, showing Billy the chewed-up food in his mouth.

“How’s that for manners?”

It was actually fucking funny watching him try to swallow everything stuffed in his mouth.

“It’s borderline painful watching you eat.”

Billy laughed as Steve flicked a piece of scrambled egg at him. It landed on his shoulder. Billy slurped it right off his shirt.

“See! Now, who's the one with no table manners?”

“Still you, Sugar. Still you.”

Breakfast was, like, actually fun.

Not that Billy was expecting it to be shitty, but he wasn’t expecting it to be as carefree, as easy, as it was. He and Steve just, kinda, clicked.

Steve was easy to talk to. He was easy to listen to, easy to laugh with, and even easier to look at.

He’s kinda, everything Billy has ever wanted in a person.

He slid his hand into Billy’s as they were leaving the diner, smiling shyly at Billy when he looked over at him.

And Billy stopped in his tracks, right there in broad daylight, tugging Steve by his hand closer to Billy’s body, sliding his hands up his arms, feeling over Steve’s shoulders, and down his back to settle on his hips. Steve wrapped both arms around Billy’s shoulders, leaning closer to him, almost pressing his whole body against Billy’s.

And it was easy. Kissing Steve was just as easy as talking to him, as laughing with him, as looking at him. It was simple and nice and made Billy feel something he really didn’t want to put too much thought into.

Something that was decidedly not easy.

They pulled away from one another, both their lips red and slick.

Billy opened the passenger door, and Steve folded himself into the seat with a ridiculous amount of grace.

And as Billy drove them aimlessly through the city, he tried not to think of the expiration date on this whole thing, on the dates listed on the back of Steve’s t-shirt.

They’ve got a little under a month together.

And Billy was determined to make that the best goddamn month of both of their natural lives.

#yikes writes #show pony #rodeo au #lemons #i got hit with a fat wall of Sad and decided to post ch 2 to see if i get a lil serotonin from the response #we will SEE #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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witchsickness · 3 years

Text

harrington’s trying to be subtle, or something, which would be annoying if he was even remotely close to like. succeeding at it, but

he’s not, not even. remotely close, so now it’s just annoyingly adorable, the way everything about harrington seems to be, and like

he opens the door, in his 200-dollar flame bape shirt, which. should not conceivably look good on anyone, ever, except it looks fuckin’. fantastic on him, and there’s the faint smell of mango wafting through the air, and that can only mean one thing, and

when billy looks up, the light is catching in harrington’s hair, gives it a glimmery kinda shine, and if billy didn’t know any better, those two locks casually falling over harrington’s eyes might’ve fooled him, like this was a last moment thing, like harrington only ran his fingers through it like. two seconds before opening the door,

except billy does know better, and mango means harrington used his gel and the pomade, which is like. the universal equivalent of looking to score, and

honest to fuck, he’s got cigarettes after sex crooning in the backgroung.

he’s like. so bad at being subtle.

harrington says, ‘fuck, hi,’ all rushed out in one breath, and billy raises an eyebrow, like

‘should i leave? you expectin’ someone?’

like he hasn’t already spotted the farcry 5 logo on the screen, or the tortilla chips on the coffee table, or the meticulously rolled joints, perfectly lined up next to the remote, because harrington’s ocd like that

and harrington frowns at him, throws billy back two years ago when he still thought punching his way through unattainable crushes would work, except it never did, not for billy’s lack of trying, and harrington still sets something inside him off with his. everything, except the whole building smells like mango, and billy’s maybe, impossibly, reconsidering the unattainable, and

harrington rolls his eyes, ‘just get the fuck in, man, do you know how many stores i drove around to for your stupid chips,’ and the dude behind him is singing it’s the way that you smile that does it for me, and like

objectively, lime tostitos are the fucking best, except harrington hates them like they killed his favorite aunt or. something, and

billy walks around him, grabs half the bowl, shoves it in his mouth, flops down the couch just in time to watch harrington trailing their path, bowl-billy’s hand-billy’s mouth, just in time to catch him paying particular attention to that last stop, and harrington can’t do it to save his life, but billy was never going for subtle in the first place, so

he puts on a show. spreads his legs, black jeans one size too small stretching across his thighs. crunches the chips into bits in his mouth, laps at his lips, licks tortilla dust off his fingers, and the next song’s already rolling, he’s in for a heartbreak if it’s all been blind faith, and

harrington hasn’t even closed the door.

and like. billy checked. his pants weren’t that tight a moment ago.

he does, eventually, shuts the door with his heel without ever breaking eye contact, struts across the room, grabs the controller, starts running through fields and killing cows with his stupid flamethrower

and like.

spotify’s still on, and rolling stone’s #1 band-to-fuck-to is taunting billy, you’re all i think about when i’m alone, and he’s spent the better part of the last two years. waiting, and waiting, so

he lights up, and coats his lungs with smoke, to gain some courage, and also maybe a plausible out for the stupidest fuckin’ thing he’s ever done, about to, and

‘fuck are you doing?’

harrington crashes the helicopter he’s currently piloting to the ground, turns to him with scrunched eyebrows, like, ‘tryna get the bear? i like. need it for the next mission?’

billy doesn’t miss a beat, throws a handful of his precious chips at harrington, ‘i’m fuckin’ here, asshole. make your move.’

harrington lets an entire i could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then go by, staring at billy, staring at billy’s lips, looking kinda dazed, and then he

kinda. pounces, lets the controller drop to the floor with a thud, shoves his tongue in billy’s mouth like it’s a mine and he’s set on striking gold

and billy moans, and gets into gear, and coats the walls of harrington’s mouth with lime and ash and minty toothpaste, because he came over with a mission, tonight, and he’s beginning to realize they were kinda working towards the same goal, here, because

the next song starts, and billy breathes a laugh down harrington’s throat, decides he wants to add one more taste to his palate,

and harrington’s already whining when billy pulls back, ‘can’t fuckin’ believe you made the first move, man, been planning this for weeks,’

and billy doesn’t talk about two years worth of planning, and waiting, just.

catches harrington’s bottom lip between his teeth, ‘watch me make the second one, too,’

pushes him until his back hits the couch, and kneels between harrington’s legs, palms climbing higher and higher up his thighs, licks his lips at i know full well that you are the patron saint of— to make sure they’re on the same page, and harrington squirms, and moans, and couldn’t look more unsubtly enthusiastic about it if he tried, so.

billy dives in.

#harringrove #my fic #i was listening to young&dumb and That Lyric came up and. yeah #i love modern aus but i find em super tricky to write so idk if thats like. any good?#my stuff

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Text

Have it Your Way

HWOL Day 2 Prompt: Overstimulation

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.2k

warnings for referenced underage sex with adults and homophobic language

read on ao3

Billy was always seeking out just a fast and easy release. A quick fuck in an alley outside or blowjobs in the bathroom stalls with whatever guy was eyeing him at the other side of the bar. Usually just two closet cases out for the night to earn the sweet release they were desperate for before they performed the same walk of shame back to their shitty lives in their heteronormative world, hitting on girls and becoming overcompensating womanizers.

At least that was the case for Billy Hargrove. Forgoing feelings and foreplay for the feeling of a cock in his ass as he’s fucked senselessly into a brick wall next to trash filled dumpsters, but only smelling the rich scent of cheap cologne and sweat. A much preferred alternative to the delicate fragrances and cleanliness he was supposed to enjoy. The perfume that always made the dissociation and imagination wear off when he was fucking girls at parties in the host’s parents bedroom, making sure partygoers heard the moans and groans to keep up appearances. Have a reputation like Billy’s and nobody would ever question his early departures. Nobody ever knew what he did for the after party.

California was easy. Getting his hands on a guy who just wanted to fuck was as simple as walking three miles to whatever run down gaybar that would let the pretty underaged boy in through the doors with just the flash of his devilish smile. He never walked home empty handed, just the signature limp of someone who took it a little too rough that night. Men twice his age were always buying him drinks and flirting with him at the bar, he could have anyone he damn well pleased. It was easy, simple, and honestly super fucking convenient. Free booze followed by a no strings attached hook-up with his pick of the litter. No names were exchanged, rarely even words at all. Just telling movements of the eyes and sounds of heavy breathing and moaning that echoed alongside others who found their way into the men’s room. Two, or even three pairs of feet seen underneath the gap of each stall. Panting and releasing expletives as the doors rattled from bodys that were slammed against locked doors.

California was easy.

Indiana was not.

Especially not Hawkins of all places. One bar in the entire town that was most certainly not his kind of bar. No clubs no anything. Release wasn’t three miles away anymore, it was a hundred miles away. But that was Neil’s plan all along wasn’t it? Drag his no good queer son across the country to the most conservative town he could find on the map, where if there even were gay people around they were so far deep into the closet they couldn’t even see daylight.

But there had to be somebody right? There had to be someone. Else Billy might completely explode. Already beginning his reputation building by fucking the first girl who showed interest in the backseat of the Camaro in the school parking lot. With no quickie in a back alley to follow it up, he was left keyed up and desperate and his hand and a mag could only do so much before he completely lost his mind.

Especially when people like Steve fucking Harrington existed. Back in California he never let himself look at another classmate like that. They were off limits. He had the means he needed there and didn’t need to steal looks in the showers or get a little too handsy during gym. But that’s all he’s got. All he had was the glorious feeling of his dick rubbing up against Steve’s ass in tight green shorts as he boxed him out, and the stolen glances of his soft dick as water cascaded down his body and dripped from the tip. Manifesting his entire will to keep his dick down and tamed while he burned the whole sight into his long term memory. Saving it for his sock later.

Billy was correct to assume Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t like California. It was quiet and quaint, but he was wrong to assume he’d entered the land of purity. Small town folks were just as freaky as the people living it up in the city, they were just more quiet about it. Playing the long game to pick up on certain traits and actions before making a move because house parties weren’t gay bars where everyone was already on the same page. It was a game of needle in a haystack. And Billy guesses he finally put out enough clues to be found.

By Steve fucking Harrington of all people.

What Billy didn’t yet realize when he was cornered into an empty bedroom at some random junior house party was that Steve may have found his needle in a haystack, but Billy, he had struck gold.

The door was slammed closed by the force of Billy’s weight as Steve gripped the collar of his shirt and pushed him back against it. Lips slamming into his with bruise inducing force that had Billy almost sinking to the floor. Breath caught in his throat and his only reaction was to pull Steve’s body in closer by the tug of his belt loops so he could feel the dick he so perfectly memorized pressed up against his own through multiple layers of clothing. His jeans were already growing tighter and it hadn’t even been a minute.

How was he already this damn hard?

And now Steve had felt it and it was his own damn fault that he did.

“Already huh?”

Instead of trying to hide it, he just pulls his hips even closer and jerks his pelvis forward against Steve’s. Snaking a hand around to grab at Steve’s ass through his jeans, imagining he was wearing those same little green shorts he wore during P.E.

“Are we gonna do this or not?” Billy asked, in a deep and husky voice, noses nearly touching, eyes half lidded.

“Oh we’re doing this, but we’re doing this my way.”

His way? Well count Billy as intrigued.

“I’m versatile if that’s what you want to know.”

Steve huffed out a laugh and twisted a finger into Billy’s curls.

“Oh I already know you can take, I wasn’t worried about that.” Billy eyed him, wondering exactly what vibe he gave off to make that something he was so sure of. Instead of questioning it for long, he let his hand snake back around to the front of Steve’s jeans and tug down at his belt buckle, leading Steve to grip him by the wrist and pull his hand away.

“Not so fast. My way.”

“Well fuck pretty boy, get on with it then.”

He expects Steve to pull him back away from the door, secure the lock, and toss him onto the strangers bed. All mean and rough just like what he was used to. Completely have his way with him, take his ability to walk and leave him there naked on the bed as he recovered. And he would be completely happy with that. Elated even. Just another hook-up like all the others.

What he doesn’t expect is for Steve to start kissing him again. A hand cradling his jaw as he slowly moves his lips against his, a striking change from his little introduction. This one was soft and gentle and completely unlike any kiss he’s ever had before. The closest comparisons that came to mind were the ones with girls and those were different in the fact that this one in particular was actually enjoyable. And he allowed himself to enjoy it. Allowed himself to take part in something he never had the chance to receive. A solid lead up, the full exposition and rising action instead of skipping straight to the climax. It was weird and foreign but not totally unpleasant.

He could honestly do this for hours if he wasn’t so painfully hard and so desperately impatient. Each effort made to pull away or snake a hand down Steve’s pants or even just touch himself was met with a quick slap on the wrist, until Steve finally got tired of that and pinned Billy’s hands above his head, thumbs digging into his wrists. Immobilizing him. Continuing working away at him with only the use of his lips. Tongue moving like it was on some kind of exploration. Mapping the geography that was Billy’s mouth.

Finally, after what seems like a goddamn eternity, Steve’s lips separate from his. Now they can get to the good stuff. The real reason they were here.

Except he goes back in, this time passing up his lips to instead begin sucking on his neck. Billy’s starting to get sick of these surprises.

Hickies. Something else he’s never received. Never had someone’s lips find their way to the most sensitive part of the area and suck harshly enough to leave a bruise. He couldn’t let that happen anyway. Couldn’t leave any physical evidence behind that Neil could grasp onto. But this situation was different. Neil might even see the hickey and be proud because Hawkins Indiana didn’t have any faggots like him. Must have been a girl right? But it wasn’t like anyone had really even tried to do that back in California. The guys he hooked up with didn’t do any of this. It was different but not necessarily a bad kind of different. Nobody had ever so much as kissed his neck, most certainly never taken skin between teeth and bit down. Not like Steve just fucking did.

Billy physically convulses and stifles a moan with the bite of his own lower lip. Feels as the sensation travels from where Steve’s teeth came in contact all the way down his spine making him almost whimper before Steve finally competes dragging his teeth and has let go.

“You like that huh?” Steve whispers into the crook of his neck. Breath hot against the dampness that coated his neck from the combination of Steve’s saliva and his own sweat. He’s almost positive that he’s leaking precome into his jeans right now because no interaction he’s ever had has lasted this long. He’s never kept his pants up for such a length of time and it’s starting to become too much. Not sure how much of that is Steve’s credit, and how much is the credit of months of jerking off in the shower and forcing his way through another just-for-show encounter with the latest girl who hit on him. It was all building up inside of him, waiting for this moment and Steve really had the audacity to withhold that from him.

“God would you just fucking screw me already?”

Steve just moves back into Billy lips. Chins touching but not kissing him. Speaking the words into his open mouth.

“If you’re not enjoying yourself I can leave.”

No. Anything but that.

“Fine. We’ll do things your fucking way.”

“I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.”

Billy still didn’t fully understand what “his way” entailed, but he figured out soon enough that it had something to do with going slow. Agonizingly slow to the point his dick was absolutely throbbing and he found himself fighting against Steve’s continued hold on his wrists because he just needed to touch. Failing against Steve’s strength and moving on to plan B which entailed extending his hips forward against his thighs, rubbing up and down against the muscle under the denim.

“You’re really fucking impatient, you know that?” Steve says in response and it just occurs to Billy that none of this is affecting Steve the way it is him. He can feel he’s hard in his jeans as well yet he’s not on the brink of collapse like Billy.

But finally Steve does something that at the very least scratches an itch. Releases his hold on one of his wrists and with his own hand palms Billy’s crotch through his jeans. He doesn’t rub or gently squeeze, just lets the palm rest there and ever so slightly push against it and Billy is left to do the remainder of the work. Moving his crotch against Steve’s hand with a heavy release of a sigh. It only does what he needs for just a few short seconds before it starts to get uncomfortable again. He needs Steve to move his hand, do something other than just let it sit there completely still. And now there’s no holding back the whimpering and he’s about ready to resort to desperate pleas.

Steve’s hand leaves where it was cupping his excruciating hard dick and Billy’s learned by this point not to get his hopes up for anything. The hand moves upward and presses against where he stopped buttoning his shirt leaving his chest halfway exposed, finally some fucking skin to skin contact. Billy takes the opportunity with his free hand to finally grab at himself, and he’s more than thankful when Steve doesn’t pin it back up against the door. Instead Steve uses his own free hand to travel up the length of his chest until it finds the spot he was searching for. The spot that would send Billy absolutely reeling. Gently, the tip of one of his fingers brushes over an erect nipple and just the brush of contact makes Billy shiver. Responding to the reaction Billy produces by taking the nub in between his two fingers and pinching them together. Suddenly receptors are firing off like fireworks and his dick is twitching and he’s this close to coming in his pants from the combination of Steve’s excruciating idea of foreplay and the friction against his own hand.

“Shit Harrington I’m fucking close.” He breathes out. Chest heaving as Steve only tightens his grip. Smiles at him, no, smirks at him with raised eyebrows and he ever so slowly lowers himself with the bend of his knees. Then doing the fucking unthinkable. With his right hand he continues rubbing and pinching Billy’s left nipple, while Steve takes the right into his fucking mouth. Dragging and flicking his tongue against the tip before catching it in between his teeth, suddenly an area far more sensitive than his neck. He’s nearly done for. It was a lot.

He thought his problem was that he hadn’t been getting enough.

The problem was he was getting too much.

“Fuck, Steve!”

Billy was never a talker during sex, but right now it was getting harder and harder to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m gonna— fuck, shit Harrington!”

A tight squeeze to his left nipple paired with a wet suction to his right and the frantic humping of his own hand has him finally reaching his limit. Spilling his load into his own underwear coupled with the humiliating noise that escapes his body like a ghost.

That was typically where the night ended. He was rarely ever the first to come and even when he did, the other guy followed shortly after. But Steve wasn’t even close. Erection still very prevalent in the outline of his jeans. Billy had no idea what tricks Steve had beneath his sleeve.

Despite Billy literally creaming his pants, Steve doesn’t stop playing with his nipples, only finally releasing his hold on Billy’s other wrist that had been pinned above his head for practically the entire duration. Steve is so into what he’s currently doing like he derives pleasure from making others feel good. Which is extraordinarily hot, and Billy quickly starts to feel the same cock that was fucking throbbing just moments ago begin to chub up again.

So this was his fucking plan.

He seems very pleased with himself when he’s had enough with the nipple play and rises back up to his regular height to kiss Billy again. Deeply this time, inhaling his smell and taste and relishing in it.

“Now let’s have some real fun.” He says once their lips come to part from each other. By now Billy just accepts that Steve is the one in charge and follows his lead without pushback. Letting Steve guide his hands to his belt, finally giving him the permission to do what he’s been fucking aching to do since he stepped, or more accurately was dragged, through the bedroom door. Chaotically undoing his belt and yanking down Steve’s jeans and boxers simultaneously while Steve pulled his own tee over his head. His dick bobbing free, catching a glimpse of it hard for the first time. So much bigger than he’d remembered. And it’s hard for him.

He starts working at his own belt while Steve undoes the two fastened buttons of his shirt, despite being able to just as easily pull it over his head. Billy drops his pants to the floor, his dick is coated in his own come from his previous orgasm and he’s already more than half hard, earning a grin out of Steve when he looks down to see it.

“Bed.” Steve says, gesturing toward the California King. How fucking fitting.

Billy takes his naked body and lies out onto the bed, letting himself get comfortable. Head resting on a surprisingly soft pillow. Steve checks the lock on the door and reaches down into his jeans to pull out a small bottle.

“You just carry lube around with you to parties?” Steve laughs as he makes his way over to the bed. Crawling on top to where he’s situated in between Billy’s spread out legs.

“Never know when you might need it.”

“Yeah. Well I usually take my dicking rough.”

Steve wrapped a hand around each of Billy’s shins and moved his feet up the bed so that his knees were bent and his hole was exposed.

“Well rough isn’t really my style.”

“Yeah, I fucking noticed.”

Billy propped himself up on his shoulders as he watched Steve. Waiting for the click sound of the lube bottle opening, not expecting to see Steve’s face midway through a movement angling down. Hands bracing themselves against his bare hips, fingernails gripping and digging into the skin leaving crescent shaped indentations as Steve’s lips begin to suck on his inner thigh. His hair falling forward and brushing over his dick that was already getting harder by the second without Steve’s head between his legs.

How the fuck did Billy not know about all these sensitive areas of his? Secondly, how the fuck did Steve know about them?

His legs are fucking wobbling and he can’t contain the movement at all. He’s already gripping the sheets and Steve hasn’t even put a finger inside of him.

Something about the whole thing felt odd, and he was struggling to put his finger on it until he let his head fall back against the soft pillow.

This was the first time he’s ever taken a man to bed. He’s fucked and been fucked by countless nameless and sometimes faceless men, yet he’s never done it in the comfort of a private area, let alone a comfortable bed. The ideal place for such an activity.

However, Billy doesn’t get to think too long and hard about that before cold hands quickly spread his cheeks and the tongue that was just leaving bruises on his thighs is suddenly licking over his hole.

He tenses due to surprise and has to actually bite the pillow to stop himself from loudly moaning when the underside of Steve’s tongue trails back down. His tongue soon darting inwards and swirling around inside of him making him gasp.

Billy thought experience was something he had, easily.

Turns out there were a lot of things that he hadn’t felt before.

And Steve Harrington decided to just check off the whole goddamn list in one go.

He was completely hard by now and beginning to leak pre once again. The head of cock red, and throbbing in his ears.

Steve’s tongue feels good. Really fucking good but he is absolutely desperate to have his back fucking broken by the dick that’s been permanently ingrained in his head for weeks now. He’s fit to scream at any moment.

The glorious sound of a cap clicking open is what pulls him off of the edge of absolute insanity. Two fingers adorning a cool gel find his hole and slowly one of the fingers slips in with a comfortable ease.

As previously mentioned, this wasn’t Billy’s first time around the block. And apparently not Steve’s either, which Billy expected to have some follow up questions once everything was all said and done.

Steve’s single finger was quickly followed by the institution of a second. His index and middle surging knuckles deep inside of him and beginning to scissor open and closed, spreading the walls apart and opening him up for more. Opening him up for Steve.

Soon the second finger turns into a third. And while everything is progressing along much quicker than it was while he was pressed up against that door, it’s still way too slow for Billy. He’s refraining from wrapping his hand around his own dick just out of sheer curiosity to see what Steve wants to do. Fights the extremely tempting urge, instead propping himself back up on his shoulders so that his hands were occupied elsewhere.

Billy’s not sure whether he regrets the decision to look at Steve or not. Because as Steve spreads his fingers within him, he looks fucking ethereal. Hair strands falling perfectly into his face, mouth hanging open with his tongue slightly hanging out past his lips. A look of sheer focus. Beads of sweat constellating his forehead alongside the constellation of moles that decorate his entire body. He’s going to lose it again if Steve doesn’t fucking get on with it already.

It’s actually beginning to hurt with how much desire he has coursing through his veins and pooling into the head of his cock.

Too much. It’s too much.

Steve can see the look on his face, the aggressive scrunching of his face as he waits for Steve to finally destroy him with what he’s aching for. What has been haunting his every dream and moment alone in the shower.

The rising action was nearing its end, it was time for the climax of this story to begin.

Steve removed his fingers from Billy and ripped open a new condom with his teeth. Rolling it onto his own dick that is finally looking to be at the same point Billy’s is. Absolutely rock hard.

He presses the tip of his dick firmly against Billy’s hole and it’s as if time stops just before Steve makes his slow and steady entrance, and Billy’s breath hitches.

Steve’s own eyes fall shut as he begins pumping in and out slowly trying to find his rhythm, while one hand situates itself onto Billy’s thigh, while the other that’s already coated in lube wraps around Billy’s shaft and begins pumping his hand at an identical rhythm. Pacing perfectly matched with Billy’s own breathing. Chest heaving up and down with every pump of Steve’s hand around his dick and every slam into his prostate.

“I’m close Steve. Fuck! I’m close.” Billy grunts out. Steve just picks up the pace. The first time he’s done that all damn night. Rhythm becoming erratic with Steve’s own breathing following suit. Panting heavy exhales that hit Billy’s stomach with their heat making him shiver and shake.

The muffled music and chatter that’s occurring on the other side of the wall behind him completely goes silent in his head and all he can hear is Steve. His breathing and groaning as he gets closer and closer to his own climax and Billy begins to view it as a competition on who can last the longest.

But it’s already clear who would win that battle, isn’t it?

Surely enough, Billy lasts about another measly forty-five seconds before he’s coming into Steve’s hands and dripping out over his stomach.

But like most of his hookups before, it isn't long before Steve is bottoming out and filling up the condom within Billy. Letting out his own hefty moan upon release. Letting his head toss backwards and his hair flip back out of his face and he could honestly get hard again if he wasn’t literally trying with all of his might to do anything else.

Steve eventually toppled over and fell onto the bed, lying on his back right beside Billy as they both looked up at the same ceiling fan and came down together.

“That was fucking something.” Billy said, finally catching onto his breath and reentering reality.

“Yeah, that was fun. I’m looking forward to next time.”

“Next time?” Billy turned his head so that he was looking at Steve.

“Yeah. You owe me an orgasm.”

Billy looked at him incredulously.

“You didn’t cum?”

“No, I did. But I didn’t cum twice.”

Billy playfully pushed his shoulder with three fingers. “That’s your own damn fault, you know that.”

“Are you turning the offer down?”

Billy smiles, takes advantage of the fact that he can kiss Steve and he does, rolling over on top of him and planting a short and wet one right onto his lips.

“No.”

Billy watches Steve walk out of that room approximately ten minutes later, leaving him naked and alone on the bed just like he expected, except this time, there’s hope for more.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #mandi writes tresh #fanfic #harringroveweekoflove #harringrove week of love #weekofloveifao

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Unless...? (Ch. 8)

Previous | Fic Masterlist

Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove. He wants to marry him–as friends–so they’ll always be together, and he’s going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off. Also he’s in a band, and they run a bar.Billy’s buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation. Also he’s just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, “I can’t take this anymore.”

In this chapter: Billy's pretty drunk when he comes back to Steve's hotel room, and he wants to see Steve wear the thongs.

Billy eventually hauled Steve back out of the bathroom—Steve was content to stand there forever, with Billy’s earnest, alcohol-redolent breath in his face, listening to him proclaim his undying affection—but Billy yanked his arm. “Come on,” he slurred. “Max’s gonna...give up on us.” Steve splashed some water on his hot face, and then trotted after his fiance.

“Did you just bone my brother on the bathroom counter,” Max asked crisply, not looking up from her menu as they approached the table.

“You know it,” Billy said, laughing, and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Fuck no, that counter’s covered in like ten layers of old hand soap,” Steve said, making a face. “Billy deserves better than old hand soap.”

“Like the alley out back,” Billy muttered, dropping into the booth, and Steve sat too close, elbowing him.

“Like a honeymoon suite,” he countered, and got to hear Max and her brother groan, and watch Billy’s ears turn even redder.

“So I hear Steve has been proposing for like. Months,” she told Billy, who glared at Steve. “You never said a word.”

“He was letting me pine,” Steve said, grabbing the soju away as Billy poured more, and tossing it back.

“Yeah, no more for you,” Max said, grabbing the bottle, and filling her cup. “How come you were still dating that shithead, then?”

“Not enough brain cells,” Billy sighed, and Steve slid an arm around him, then pressed his luck, and a kiss to Billy’s temple, feeling it heat.

“We’re hoping our combined six brain cells are a little smarter,” Steve told Max, and she snorted a laugh—and then smiled a little softer, he thought, watching Billy as he leaned into Steve’s shoulder with a grumbly noise like a drunken bear.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, silently, and Steve flushed. “Be good to him or I’ll kill you,” she added, in a creepily sibilant whisper, and Billy mumbled inquiringly. Steve hugged his head, nodding back at her.

Steve had to half-heft Billy into his hotel room that night, full of barbequed meat and more liquor than was good for either of them, and then help him undress, sliding his hands down Billy’s ass and thighs to get his too-tight jeans off, and crouching between Billy’s knees to pull at his boots. Billy dropped back onto the mattress with a long sigh, and then Steve had to haul him back upright to tug at the buttons on his sleeves, and run his hands over the muscles of Billy’s shoulders to push the shirt off them. He kept pausing to look at Billy’s tattoos, or a couple times because the feel of Billy’s skin was distracting, warm, muscled, a little hairy on his arms and legs, and softer over his stomach and ass. Billy curled away from Steve’s hands on his abs.

“Quit it,” he mumbled. “You don’t care if I do my crunches, right, if I’m not...cut,” and Steve shook his head, running his knuckles over the soft curls that crept out of Billy’s pajama pants toward his bellybutton.

“Nah, you’re perfect,” he said honestly. “You’d be perfect if you turned into that blueberry from the Willy Wonka movie, y’know.”

“...s’weird you don’t give a shit,” Billy sighed, his whole body flushed with alcohol as he watched Steve’s knuckles stroke his side softly.

“If you’re too pretty, people are gonna keep following you home,” Steve told him. “And what if I just like, see you when I’m onstage, and I drop my guitar?”

Billy burst into cackling laughter, his eyes wide. “You think I’m pretty?” he asked breathlessly, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“I have eyes, man,” he told him, and Billy’s smile widened, lazy and delighted.

“You think I’m pretty,” he mumbled, still giggling.

“Of course I do,” Steve told him, reaching up to tuck Billy’s hair behind his ear, and cupping his warm, stubbly cheek to feel him smile. “You’d probably look way better in those thongs,” he sighed. “I look like a moron who forgot to wash his own underwear. Or like, those bastards at the laundromat, you know, that just steal whatever, and you’re like ‘what the hell did you want with one of every sock’.”

“Y-you put them on,” Billy choked out, pushing himself back upright to stare at Steve’s face, and Steve scrambled back, licking his lips. “You wore them?!”

“Uh,” Steve said, his cheeks heating. “I mean, just—just in case you were serious, I wanted it to fit.”

“...I wanna see,” Billy said, drunk and sincere, and Steve couldn’t believe those wide, hazy eyes were lying to him.

He grimaced. “Whatever you’re imagining, it’s probably gonna look more stupid than that.”

“It’s gonna be a religious experience,” Billy said, patting around the bed for his phone, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

“Why don’t you wear ‘em,” he tried, “—if you like the damn things so much.”

“You said,” Billy huffed, still slapping the bed for his phone, and pouting, so Steve sighed, grabbed Billy’s phone, slapped it into his outstretched hand, and dropped his pants. Billy made a noise like he’d swallowed a leaking helium balloon, and Steve heard the camera shutter noise.

“You send anybody that picture and I’ll—” break your face, was Steve’s first thought, but then he remembered Billy’s bruises. “—I’ll order pineapple and anchovies on every pizza for the next year.”

“...hurting yourself to hurt me,” Billy huffed.

“I can gag it down,” Steve told him triumphantly, and yanked his briefs off, to another strangled sound from Billy, and more shutter noises. “...I mean it, though, don’t send blackmail pictures to Robin.”

“...blackmail pictures,” Billy said weakly, as Steve set his jaw, closed his eyes, and pulled on the blue thong. His t-shirt partly covered it, thank god, he thought, because his dick was aware there was somebody on his bed even if Billy was a dude, and the friction of the satin was weird, so he had kind of the beginning of a hard-on. He sighed. Billy swallowed, his throat clicking like he needed something to drink. “...take the t-shirt off,” he whispered, and Steve stared back at him.

“Seriously?! You can see how it fits!”

“Come on,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned, but yanked his t-shirt over his head to more shutter noises. He tried to ignore his stupid cock thinking fancy underwear meant anything on him, and stared past Billy at the ugly 80’s pink and grey motel art. “...you look like somebody’s pulling your teeth,” Billy said.

“...the hell you want,” Steve gritted out. “I look like an idiot.”

“Well, they got me to fucking...agree to marry you, right, you could look like it wasn’t the shittiest day of your life,” Billy said, glowering at his phone, and Steve sighed.

“Okay, what then? Should I like. Pose,” he asked, flexing half-heartedly, and Billy took a weird jerky breath.

“...you really...think you look bad in those,” he rasped out, and Steve snorted a laugh, frowning down.

“I’ve got elastic up my ass,” he said, squirming. “I’m not even sure how I thought they were sexy on women anymore, jesus.”

“You look like a centerfold,” Billy said hoarsely, and Steve—who’d spent nearly a year wondering whether he wanted to be around Billy or just be Billy—felt better instantly.

“...really?!” Steve asked, staring down at his untanned (compared to Billy’s) stomach, and his uninked arms. “...yeah, I’m hot, right?” he asked, laughing with relief. “I know I’m hot, huh, not everybody can look like you.” He twisted his body into a tits-and-ass superheroine pose, pursing his lips at Billy, who made a noise in his throat like he was dying. Steve snickered, and stuck his arm out and up to the side like he was Superman. “Truth, justice, and the American way,” he said, and Billy snorted a high-pitched laugh.

He’d half-covered his face, but he was still snapping pictures, and Steve couldn’t help wanting him to laugh harder, because Billy was cute, pink-cheeked with drink, giggling. Steve spread his arms, hearkening back to a long-ago role in the school production of My Fair Lady. “I have often slept/in this room before,” he began, throwing his arms wide, “—but the carpet always stayed beneath my feet before. All at once am IIIII/several stories hiiiiiigh/knowing I’m in the room where you aaaaare—” he sang, and Billy burst out laughing, letting himself fall backwards on the bed cackling, his hands over his face.

Steve climbed up on the bed again, sitting on Billy’s legs like they were five, and kept going. “AND OHHHHHH, THE TOWERING FEELING,” he belted out, “—JUST TO KNOOOOW/SOMEHOW YOU ARE NEAR—”

Billy shoved at him, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and turning a little to bury his face in the pillows.

Steve beamed, taking a quick breath. “THE OHHHHVERPOWERING FEELING/THAT ANY SECOND YOU MAY SUDDENLY APPEAR—” he paused, because the neighbors were banging on the walls again, and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh my god,” Billy wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Stop, stop, before they throw us out, jesus christ you fucking loon.”

“Maybe they prefer Elton John,” Steve said thoughtfully, opening his mouth to try some of Your Song, and Billy tackled him to the bed, both hands over Steve’s mouth, which was suddenly kind of awkward, as Steve remembered he was wearing only a thong. He tried to sort of hum that he was disarmed and un-dangerous, but Billy glowered suspiciously, leaning harder to hold his hands over Steve’s mouth, his mouth still quirked as he shook a little with suppressed snickering.

Steve tried not to squirm. Billy’s pajama pants were soft and thin, and Steve could feel thigh muscles through them. Billy’s butt hovered right over his dick, barely bound by the scrap of satin and lace, and it was hard to think of anything but that couple of inches of space between Billy feeling safe as friends, and finding out Steve got idiotically turned on by people thinking he was funny and hot.

Billy was panting, still out of breath from laughing, his chest and abs flexing right before Steve’s eyes, so he closed them, feeling the heat spread over his face. “You gonna behave?” he hissed, and Steve considered shaking his head, so Billy would just...stay on top of him, maybe, maybe fell asleep there, while Steve spent an agonizing night trying not to squirm and Billy breathed contentedly into his neck.

He nodded, instead, and Billy pushed himself up to stretch.

“You’re insane,” he commented.

“Everybody serenades fiances,” Steve said indignantly. “I could read you poetry instead.”

“Holy fuck, no,” Billy hissed, reaching to slap a hand over Steve’s face again, and Steve kissed his hand. He snatched it back like Steve had burned him, swinging his leg off Steve to curl his whole body into the pillows, groaning. “Why are you like this,” he sighed, still laughing.

“You love me,” Steve pointed out, biting his lip uncertainly, and Billy sighed again.

“Yeah.”

Steve dropped down next to him, his shoulder against Billy’s back, and imagined he and Billy in their suits. “We got a fitting tomorrow,” he said softly. “For the suits.”

“...yeah, I know,” Billy said, leaning back against him. “You gonna wear the blue thong? Something borrowed and everything?”

Steve laughed. “Oh. I was thinking white lace. Weddings. Y’know.”

“You...thought about it,” Billy mumbled.

“Dude, I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Steve told him, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I keep thinking you’re gonna say it was all a joke. Thongs, seriously? I’ll wear ‘em every damn day if it keeps you around, man.”

“...bro,” Billy said, laughing into his pillow with kind of a whine.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, grimacing. He swung his legs off the bed, and grabbed his jeans off the floor. “I’m gonna shower,” he told Billy, who was sounding sleepy, and saw what was probably a nod.

In the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror again, and felt less shitty about being a man in satin and lace, because really, people could just...wear things, he figured, it wasn’t like the fabric cared. Billy’d looked happy as he laughed, and Steve smiled at the thought, and flexed again in the mirror. He was half-tempted to get a little apron or something and make Billy laugh his ass off again.

His dick still hadn’t gotten the message that it wouldn’t be getting any action, and he tried to ignore it fully peeking over the top of the elastic, and the damp spot from his reaction to getting thrown down on a bed. It’d be actually and metaphorically hard to sleep next to Billy without taking care of it, though, and he let himself thumb over the tip, biting back a groan, and trying not to think anything weird about Billy’s weight on him, or the muscles of his forearms as he held Steve down by the face.

He reminded himself of Tommy shoving his hand away, and stalking out of his life, and tried to think about tits as he climbed in the shower, his shoulders hunched.

The feeling wasn’t really the same, he told himself—he knew what he was feeling, watching a woman squeeze into a dress, and thinking about peeling her out of it, but it’d never been clear, as he tried to dress up like Han Solo, what exactly he wanted—to kiss him, or be him, or just be...as cool as him, or maybe just to have a janky spaceship to share with his very best friend.

He peeled out of the thong, his cheeks burning, and stepped into the shower, soaping his hand up. It only took a few yanks before he came over his fingers, thinking annoyingly neither of Billy nor an anonymous woman’s mouth, but ofTommy, how he’d shoved Steve against the doorjamb, and said “Yeah, why shouldn’t I go over to Carol’s again? What you got that’s better than her, huh?”

Steve had been bewildered when Tommy started yanking at his pants, but also drunk, and horny from the porn. The woman onscreen was still panting and begging, her tits jiggling, and it was hot with the heat of an Indiana summer, but their beers were cold. The sound of distant frogs nearly drowned out the grunting on the screen. Tommy’s hands were hot and tight, and at nineteen it didn’t take much. Steve’d woken deep under the surface of a hangover, looking around at his limp, sticky cock half out of his pants, and taken a shower before he even remembered what had happened the night before.

Tommy’d never picked up his calls again.

It hadn’t even been his idea, Steve didn’t think, scrubbing at his hair as his brain went over the familiar ground—Tommy’d yanked at his jeans, while Steve stared like a drunk idiot. He tried to remember—again—whether he’d leaned in too far, or seemed too willing, and growled, sticking his head under the showerhead.

After he towelled off, he slid into bed behind Billy, and slid an arm around him. Billy snorted powerfully, smacking his lips, and rolled over to grapple Steve in closer, smacking a kiss to Steve’s jaw. “...love...babe,” he mumbled, nuzzling his head into Steve’s neck, and tossing a thigh over his legs.

Steve lay motionless, his heart pounding, staring at the ceiling.

In the morning, Billy insisted they couldn’t be fitted together, and see each other before the wedding. Then he drove home.

After the gig the next night, Steve drove home after him. He slowed as he passed Billy’s apartment, but it was four-fifteen in the morning, and he was pretty sure that was grounds for divorce.

He couldn’t stop grinning, and typing text drafts to Billy he didn’t send, and checking the time, so finally he just cleaned—he scrubbed the whole fridge, and pulled all the popsicles and discount steak out to defrost the freezer. If he’d been female, he thought, with kind of a shivery feeling in his stomach, he’d have eaten the popsicles when Billy was over—just sucked them down until he gave himself brain freeze, leaning his head back so Billy could see the muscles working in his cheeks and throat. Steve bit his lips together, sighing, and gripped the counter, wishing the stupid, useless image wasn’t stuck in his head.

The sheets smelled kinda stale, so he washed them, and put another load of laundry in, before checking the time again, seeing it was too early to take Billy any breakfast, and flopping face-first on the couch with a groan.

He awoke to his phone ringing, and answered in a grunted slur of syllables even he couldn’t identify. It was Joyce Byers’ voice, he registered, his brain feeling like its tires were spinning in mud.

“Billy’s sick,” she told him. “He sounds awful. He’s by himself.”

“Enh,” Steve said. “Grungh.”

“...I thought you might be on the road,” she said. “Weren’t you coming back today?”

“M’I’m,” Steve mumbled, and rolled half on his side to prop himself up. “M’here. Drove...las’night.”

“Sorry to wake you, sweetie,” she said, sounding suspiciously like she was laughing. “He’s just as impatient to see you, hon. That’s why I called. He was smiling all night. I had to pinch his pink cheeks.”

“...my pink cheeks,” Steve muttered indignantly, and she laughed again.

“Go take him some cold medicine, okay? Maybe something hot to eat?”

Steve slapped his face a few times to try and get his brain back online, blinked, and frowned worriedly. “Is—is he okay?”

“Sounds like a question for the man himself. We’ve got this, if you don’t want to come in tonight,” she said. “Tell him not to worry about anything, and feel better!”

“O-okay,” Steve said, nodding.

“Make him take a nap too, sweetie,” she said, and hung up. Steve blinked at his phone, and then called Billy.

He didn’t answer.

Steve grimaced, sat down to work on the chords for his nearly-finished song, couldn’t focus, and cleaned the garage. He tried again an hour later, and got no response, so he waited a couple more hours, did all the dishes, and scrubbed the stove.

He kept thinking about being sick, and he started to want soup, so he rummaged through his cupboards, and then pulled out the cookbook Joyce had helped him pick out when he first started living on his own. It had chicken soup in it, and Steve studied the ingredients carefully, jotting them down.

When he got to the part of the recipe that said ‘if using noodles, add them now,’ he stalled out, staring helplessly. He side-eyed the phone, and didn’t call again—Billy was probably asleep, he reminded himself, and there Steve was, waking him up every god damn hour.

He went out and bought sick-person groceries—the soup ingredients, obviously. Kleenex, benadryl, cough syrup, cough drops—and popsicles in case Billy had a sore throat. He got two whole boxes, resolutely not thinking about either of them actually eating them. He got a loaf of bread to slice for thick crunchy toast, and a carton of eggs to soft-boil. He threw some fluffy slippers by the register in, and then circled around again when he remembered tea.

When he knocked on Billy’s door, he kept it fairly quiet, and busied himself setting up a bag with all the things Billy might want—there was no point in giving a sick person the raw carrots for the chicken soup. Just as he was trying to remember whether Billy had a toaster oven, the door opened, and Billy stared down at him, wrapped in a blanket. His nose and lips were red, chapped and peeling.

“Sorry I woke you up, I’ll go away,” Steve told him, standing up, and grabbing both bags of groceries. “But I just need to ask, rice or noodles?”

“Why are you going away,” Billy croaked.

“I, um,” Steve stumbled, uncertain. “But uh, I’m—I’m making chicken soup, so: rice, or noodles?”

“...you’re making me soup?” Billy sighed, leaning against the door jamb. “...what are you doing out here?”

“I brought you stuff,” Steve told him, wincing. “Uh, is it—can I come in?” Billy backed away, tottering over to blow his nose, and Steve came in and kicked the door shut with his feet.

It was both humid and cold, and Steve grimaced into the dim light, watching Billy curl up on the corner of the couch in his jeans and the sweatshirt from their work. He was surrounded by used kleenex. “...I brought…” Steve trailed off, as Billy tried to tuck the blanket over his toes, and not pull it off his head. “...why’s it so cold in here?” he asked, and Billy’s head jerked up.

“It’s fucking cold, right?! I knew the fucking thermostat wasn’t working—” he stopped, sighing.

“Okay, no,” Steve announced. “You’re coming to my place. I promise not to make you sign any, like, prenuptials, come on.”

“...I’m sick,” Billy told him, petulantly, as Steve found his shoes.

“That would be why,” Steve told him, battling to get one arm out of the blanket at a time, and push Billy’s arms into his coat. “You can figure out the thermostat later—I’ll call and fight with them, if you want—but I can see my breath in here.”

Billy submitted to being bundled down the stairs in untied shoes, his coat on, and his blanket wrapped around it, and Steve loaded the groceries back in, handing Billy the box of tissues.

“So,” Steve asked, as he shifted into reverse. “Noodles or rice? I bought both. We could try both, I guess,” he said, considering, and then realized Billy was trying to cover a laugh, which turned into a racking cough. He sounded like the seals at the zoo.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said, finally, when he could talk.

All my Harringrove fic!

#Harringrove #Unless #Steve's bi and confused about it #Billy's gay and dying of pining #They'll figure it out in the last chapter #RIP them

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lupy22 · 4 years

Text

Run To You

Summary: (Inspired by the song 'Run to you' by Bryan Adams) The Reader never expected to allow herself to fall in love with Billy Hargrove. After all, he was in love with someone else. But still, Billy's always had a way with words and time and time again he seduces you into a secrect affair. And with that comes an emotional rollercoaster.

Series Warnings: NSFW, Manipulation, smut, fingering, oral, car sex, violence, language, smoking, drinking, drug use, little fluff serious angst through out the series

A/N: just putting out the fact that everyone is of age in this! As they always are in every single one of my stories.

You had to admit, this was one hell of a party. Nancy had insisted that you went with her and now, you were glad she did. It was exactly what you needed.

You lifted the red solo cup up to your lips and finished the last of your beer.

"See, Y/N? I told you this was gonna be fun." Nancy smiled as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"You were right." You shrugged your shoulders and lifted your cup up. "I'm out of beer. Want me to bring you some back?" You offered.

She chuckled. "No, I'm gonna dance. Come join us when your done."

You stepped outside and noticed a few people were scattered, but the yard was no where near as crowded before. Then your eyes caught the new handsome, popular boy, Billy. He had a cigarette hanging out his mouth and he was standing beside one of the beer kegs.

But you didn't really think to pay much attention to him. Everyone knew he was with Heather, so in your eyes, he was a no-go. That and you refused to be that one girl who begged for his attention. You had already tried it once when he had first entered your high school. He didn't seem that interested so you dropped him from your thoughts.

"Holy shit. Is that you Y/N?" Billy questioned.

"Yeah, Billy. It's me. Just need to get some beer." You picked up the spout and started to spray the beer in your cup.

"I didn't expect to see you here, especially dressed like that. I thought you were one of those uptight girls." He commented.

You put the spout down and quickly looked down at yourself. To be honest, you came from a home only run by a single mother and she never had much money to help you with your clothes. Just recently you started working as a waitress and after helping your mom pay off a couple of late bills you were finally able to enhance your wardrobe. But he didn't need to know that.

"Yeah, well it shouldn't matter to you if I am or not." You brought the cup up and began to sip your beer.

He beemed his white teeth at you before his tongue slide out and dragged along his bottom lip as a cloud of smoke slipped out of his mouth. "And why do you say that?" He questioned.

A bolt of heat shot right between your thighs. Oh, that tongue. . . So many things he could do with -

No! No! He has a girlfriend and didn't bother giving you attention when you first tried. Stop thinking like that!

"You have a girlfriend. Speaking of which, where is she?" You turned and started looking around.

The last thing you wanted was to get into a fight. You came to this party to have fun, not get in some cat fight over a boy that you weren't even intending on stealing.

"She's not here. Said she wasn't feeling well." Billy replied.

Your heart was suddenly starting to pound and warm tingles ran through your body. Why was he looking at you like that?

"Hope she gets better soon. Nice talking with you." You turned in your heels and began walking towards the house.

"You know. . . It is really sad." He stated randomly.

You furrowed your brows and turned to him. "What are you talking about?"

"That you're here, alone." He replied.

"I came with Nancy." You pointed out.

He started walking towards you. "I mean, you didn't come here with a boy. Look at you, Y/N. Your fucking beautiful."

"I'm still not seeing your point." You responded as you lifted your cup up and finished the beer.

"My point is. . . Your alone and I'm alone. But we don't have to be."

He was only a foot away from you with his eyes locking onto yours. What was he - . . . . Ohhhh.

***

Your lips locked with Billy's as he walked you towards his Camaro. He had one hand on your hip and the other held onto the back of your neck. Your hands were busy running through his hair as you felt the tip of his tongue swipe across yours. When you felt his car press into you, it was like being slapped. You gasped and quickly pulled away.

Billy chuckled. You had gotten so lost in the kiss that you almost forgot where you were. He reached behind you and pulled the car door open. He moved the passenger seat in a reclining position.

You quickly turned to look around. It wasn't your bed, but the heavy throb growing between your legs did not dare to complain. And his car wasn't parked with the other cars, so it would have to do.

"Hey, you coming or what?" Billy asked.

You turned back to Billy and your eyes widened. He had his shirt off and was working his way to taking his jeans off. You quickly scanned his body before your lips curled into a smile. The first thing you did was unzip your boots and take them off. Then came your blouse and your skirt.

Sometime, in your drunken daze, you tossed caution to the wind and dropped your clothes right on the ground. Billy reached out of the car and grabbed you by the wasit. You ducked your head and climbed right on top of him.

"Shit. The door! Close the door!" Billy reached beside you and shut the door.

The car filled with the sound of your giggles mixes with Billy's laugh. He brought a hand up and brushed your hair behind your ear. Your stomach filled with butterflies and a warmth echoed in your chest as Billy craddled your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours.

He moved his hands down to cup your breasts and then slowly slid one down between your thighs. You could feel his erection beneathe you.

"Billy, wait!" You quickly pulled away from him.

"What?" He questioned.

"This is only gonna be a one-time thing right?" You wondered.

He used his hand to guide the tip of his erection to your entrance. "I don't know. Just come here." His hands gripped your waist and pushed you down onto his throbbing cock.

He stretched your walls out and filled you with every inch he had. You let out a quiet whimper and began rolling your hips. It was like your instincts had taken over.

"Fuck, yeah. Just like that." He quietly groaned.

You felt his hands wrap around your and bring you closer to him. His lips claimed yours in a heated kiss as you continied pumping yourself up and down. It was crowded and the air grew hot quick but his lips against yours made you forget about.

It was like the whole world around you faded into oblivion and all there was to focus on was the feeling of his cock thrusting up and down. Your bodies moved in sync with eachother. It was as if he was the perfect fit.

Billy tightened his hold around you and began thrusting his hips up in a fast and violent motion. The tip of his cock brushed against a spot that felt really good and your body trembled against his. You could feel your inner walls clasp tight against his cock and your body began to sputter against his. A flood of hot tingles shot through your core and you could feel the endorphins in your brain swim around.

"Ohh, fuck Billy." You moaned and leaned your forehead against his.

You were caught in a haze. In fact, you were so caught up in the high from your orgasm you didn't even realize that Billy's thrusts were becoming erratic.

"Shit, Y/N. I'm gonna come." He groaned.

You quickly lifted yourself up and it was just in time. His cock pressed against your thigh and you felt his warm seed splatter against your skin.

"Ohh, fuck. We should definitely do that again." He panted.

Your stomach fluttered with excitement at his words. But you quickly told yourself that was all they were. You moved around and managed to find a napkin to clean yourself off.

"Hey, where are you going?" Billy questioned.

"I just figured you would want me to leave now." You muttered.

He moved beneath you and opened the door. That would have been your que to leave but he held you tight with one arm and pulled in his jean jacket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips.

"What I would really would like is for you to keep me company. Just until I finish this cigarette." He replied before he lit his cigarette.

A cloud of smoke drifted from his mouth and seeped out of the open door. He reclined his seat back and craddled you to his chest. It was silent for a minute. Sad to say, you weren't used to this. You should have been filled with shame, but at that moment, you were at peace.

#billy hargrove #smut #stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #affair #fluff #only to hit you with the angst

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pinktintedmonocle · 3 years

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The Pin-Up - A Cobra Kai Lawrusso Fanfic - Explicit / NSFW

In which Johnny does post his thirst trap photos after all, and Daniel just can’t stop thinking about them.

Written for this prompt on the Cobra Kai kink meme:

Since Cobra Kai made Billy Zabka's thirst trap photos canon, I desperately need a fanfic of Daniel reacting to them. Maybe they were published when Johnny first did the photoshoot, and Daniel just happened to see them on the cover of the magazine. Or maybe Miguel eventually caved and posted them to Johnny's facebook as a Throwback Thursday kinda thing, and Amanda liked them. I really need a fic of Daniel reacting to those photos. Please!

“Hey kids, bananarama chocolate chip pancakes are up!” called Daniel, flipping them over in the pan. He glanced across at Amanda, sitting at the table scrolling through her phone.

“You want some, honey?” he asked.

Amanda didn’t seem to hear him, eyes transfixed to the screen. Daniel put the pancakes into a serving dish and took them over to the table.

“Earth to Amanda”, he said, placing the dish down and waving a hand in front of her face.

Amanda blinked and looked up. “Sorry babe.” She noticed the food. “Ooo, pancakes!” She transferred two pancakes from the dish to her own plate and went back to staring at her phone.

“What are you looking at?” asked Daniel, digging into his own breakfast. “Whatever it is, it’s clearly more interesting than me.”

Amanda smirked. “Johnny Lawrence. He’s – ah – posted some photos of himself on Facebook.”

“So?” asked Daniel, frowning. “What’s so distracting about that? You see him almost every day at the dojo.”

“Not like this”, said Amanda. She turned her phone around so her husband could see the screen and Daniel nearly choked on a mouthful of pancake.

The first photo was of a young Johnny on a beach, kneeling in the waves in a pair of tight low rise jeans. His hair was damp and messy and the sunlight glinted off his smooth chest and perfect abs.

Daniel swallowed painfully. “What the hell is that?” he asked, reaching for a glass of water.

Amanda grinned. “Apparently he did some modelling work in the eighties and nineties. He posted them this morning for a throwback Thursday thing.” She stood up, smoothing down her dress and grabbed her phone. “I gotta get to the dealership, get a head start on some paperwork.” She leant over and gave Daniel a kiss. “I’ll see you there later, let you look at the rest of Johnny’s pictures in private.”

Daniel pulled a face. “I have no desire to look at Johnny Lawrence’s modelling photos, believe me.”

“Whatever you say, babe”, Amanda teased, walking out of the room.

Daniel huffed and continued to eat his pancakes, trying to think of anything except the photographs. He failed miserably, and after a minute he pulled out his own phone and navigated to Johnny’s Facebook page.

The second photo was of Johnny leaning against rocks wearing white pants, his black headband and nothing else. His hair was a little longer in this one, and it curled up in fluffy blonde tufts. His chest was tanned and more muscular than in the photo on the beach, his pecs well defined and glistening with oil. Daniel licked his lips, wondering vaguely why his mouth suddenly felt so dry. At least in the third photo Johnny was sort of wearing a shirt, even if it wasn’t doing a particularly good job of covering anything. Daniel tugged at his collar, feeling quite hot for some reason.

“Hey dad”, said Sam, coming into the kitchen and causing Daniel to snap of his reverie and drop his fork. She frowned. “You OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine”, said Daniel, wincing as his voice came out low and raspy. He took another gulp of water and then stood up quickly, adjusting his suit and sliding his phone into his pocket. “I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll see you later. Have a good day at school, sweetheart.” He dropped a kiss into her hair as he passed before leaving the house and getting into his car, the pictures still lingering in his mind as he drove to the dealership.

**********************************************************************************

Daniel found it hard to focus on work. He had back-to-back meetings for most of the day, but he barely heard anything that was said in them, instead letting Amanda take the reins. He managed to escape outside for five minutes over lunch and found himself opening up Facebook automatically and staring at the photos, biting his lip as he took in Johnny’s golden locks and chiselled abs. As he was looking, his phone rang and Johnny’s name flashed up on the screen. Daniel nearly dropped the phone in shock before answering the call.

“What do you want, Johnny?”

“Hello to you too, LaRusso. Look, can you give me a ride to training tonight? Can’t get the engine started on my car.”

“You mean my car, which you effectively stole form the chop shop and never returned to the dealership?”

“Yeah, that one”, said Johnny, unfazed.

Daniel sighed. “Yeah, sure Johnny. I’ll be round at six.”

“Alright. Hey, sure you’re OK, LaRusso? Your voice sounds strange.”

“I’m fine”, Daniel snapped, hanging up. He took a moment to breathe deeply before heading back inside the dealership.

“You OK, hon?” asked Amanda, looking at him with a frown.

“Yeah, I’m OK, why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Alright, calm down Mr.” She gestured towards his mouth. “It’s just that your lip is bleeding. What, did you manage to get into a fight in the trading lot just now?”

Daniel touched his lip gingerly and winced. “It’s nothing, I just bit it. Anyway, ready for the next meeting? Who’s this one with, marketing?”

Amanda stared at him with a look of concern. “No, we had the meeting with marketing his morning. You were there for all forty minutes of it. Are you sure you’re OK, Daniel?”

Daniel thought of the photographs again, of Johnny Lawrence’s perfect body. He shook his head.

“I’m fine”, he said, smiling tightly. “Really I am.”

Amanda looked unconvinced, but mercifully didn’t say anything else as she steered Daniel towards the meeting room.

**********************************************************************************

At 6pm Daniel knocked sharply on the door of the apartment in Reseda.

“Alright, I’m coming”, yelled Johnny. “Just don’t kick your way in this time, LaRusso.”

Daniel rolled his eyes and a few seconds later Johnny opened the door and ushered Daniel inside.

“You coming to practice like that?” asked Daniel, gesturing towards a robe-clad Johnny.

“I just had a shower, LaRusso, don’t get your panties in a twist. Let me get changed and then we’ll go.”

Johnny disappeared into the bedroom and Daniel sighed and sat down on the couch. Amongst the discarded cans of Coors Banquet and Slim Jim wrappers on the coffee table there was an old shoebox with a few pieces of paper poking out at the sides. He glanced towards the bedroom to check Johnny was still occupied before flipping the lid open, curious to see what was inside. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the photos. He picked up the one with Johnny in the white pants and the black headband and swallowed thickly, thumb grazing over Johnny’s torso.

“Alright, I’m ready”, called Johnny, emerging from the bedroom. Daniel quickly put the pictures back into the box and closed it. However, as Johnny rounded the corner he realised he was still clutching the white pants photo in one hand. He stuffed it in his pocket and stood up.

“OK”, Daniel said, desperately trying to act casual. “Let’s go.”

**********************************************************************************

Daniel had the house to himself on Friday night; Amanda was out with friends and both Sam and Anthony had sleepovers. He considered going out himself, calling Louise or Anoush and seeing if they wanted to go for a drink, but it had been a long week and he wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with either of them. You could call Johnny, said a little voice in his head, but he ignored it. Getting drunk with Johnny was probably not a good idea, not so soon after the incident with the photographs. He thought about the one he had stolen, now shoved down the side of the drawer in his nightstand, and he licked his lips.

No, he told himself firmly, pouring out another glass of wine. I’m not thinking about that picture. He sat down on the couch and started flicking through channels on the TV, trying to find something to take his mind off it.

After three more glasses of wine and an hour of a particularly dull documentary, Daniel found himself in the bedroom, looking at the picture of Johnny. God, he was gorgeous. He wondered if Johnny still looked a little like that under his clothes, or if he was a bit softer now. It was hard to tell; he was clearly still in shape, but maybe not quite that in shape. Daniel shook his head. This had to stop. His concentration span was shot to pieces and Amanda had been giving him increasingly concerned looks for the past two days. He just needed to find a way to get these feelings out of his system.

He glanced down at his watch. 9pm. It would probably be hours before Amanda arrived home, so he had plenty of time. And really, what choice did he have? He needed to clear his head and regain his focus so he could concentrate on both his business and training his and Johnny’s students so they could win the tournament. One time only, and that would be it.

Without further ado he pulled off his sweatpants and underwear, fished a bottle of lube out of his nightstand and lay down on the bed. He looked at the photo and bit his lip hard, tasting the copper tang of blood. He imagined running his hands over that firm chest, imagined Johnny’s large, rough hands on his own slim waist and felt himself start to harden.

He squirted a generous amount of lube into one hand and took hold of his cock, running his hand up and down the shaft as he became erect. He pictured himself burying his face in Johnny’s neck, breathing in his scent of sweat and oil and felling wisps of blonde hair tickle his lips. Daniel moaned, arching his back as his cock leaked. He thought about pulling down Johnny’s white pants and rubbing their cocks together. Then Johnny would press Daniel into the rocks before kneeling down and taking Daniel in his mouth, and as Daniel gasped in pleasure he would grab a handful of Johnny’s hair to steady himself as he bucked his hips, encouraging Johnny to suck him harder and faster.

On the bed, Daniel was close to orgasm. He realised he wanted to make this last, to spend more time in this fantasy, but he was far too aroused to last much longer. He imagined coming in Johnny’s mouth and the blonde swallowing before standing up and kissing Daniel and Daniel tasting himself on Johnny’s tongue.

Daniel came hard, hand still working his cock frantically as he rode out his orgasm, vision blurring. When he was done his body relaxed, boneless and sated, sinking into the soft bed. The photograph was lying on his chest and he picked it up, smearing cum across Johnny’s torso as he did so. He swore under his breath and picked up a tissue from the nightstand, trying to wipe the photo clean. He got most of it off, but there was still a suspicious looking stain over Johnny’s abs; he definitely couldn’t give the photo back now. The sensible thing to do would be to rip it into tiny pieces and put it in the garbage disposal, but Daniel didn’t quite have the heart to do that. Not yet.

Instead he stood up and wiped himself down before picking up a book from beside the bed that he’d been reading on and off for several months. He tucked the photo in the dust jacket and put it back down before padding across to the bathroom for a shower.

He may not actually look at the photo again, he reasoned, but surely there was no harm in keeping it?

Just in case.

#cobra kai #cobrakaifanfic #cobrakaifanfiction #Daniel LaRusso #Johnny Lawrence #lawrusso

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memes-saved-me · 4 years

Text

What was originally a quick headcanon became a 2.2K p*rn with some plot thanks to @cockasinthebird 😉

《NSFT/W under the cut》

Steve had seen that Polaroid, seen it in his mind late at night but he never thought he would actually see Billy wearing it. Especially, after Starcourt. He knew how self conscious Billy had become from the scars covering his chest and back, the scars that reminded him of terrible acts and bad times. It was more that people would ask how he got them if they caught a glimpse of the white streaks spread across his torso. He would have to lie and say it was the fire or a car accident but Steve would always pull him aside and tell him how much he loved them because in some twisted way it brought Billy to him.

So, when Billy walked down the stairs one morning in nothing but a pair of Steve's shorts and that Everlast crop he couldn't believe it. Couldn't process it as Billy stretched and walked into the kitchen bare foot like he did every morning he stayed the night. All he could do was stare at him.

"What?" Billy asked confused. His hair still a mess, sticking up in random places and completely flat at the back. He didn't reply, instead he moved and soon had Billy pinned up against the counter and his hands up the grey shirt. Running his fingers over the hard muscle underneath, then down his stomach until he reached the elastic waistband of the shorts. "Steve."

He pulled at them and kissed Billy hard and desperate. Not thinking with the head on his shoulders at all he pulled at the shorts until he had them around Billy thick thighs. He loved his thighs in tight shorts, especially Steve's because they were a size or two smaller than what Billy should be wearing.

Billy didn't complain, he relaxed against the cold marble. Didn't even ask he just let Steve grab him and keep kissing him as he felt his cold fingers on his warm skin under that shirt.

It wasn't until he went to pull off the top that Steve stopped and grabbed his wrists, leaving him half hard and confused. But he still went along with it, let Steve place his hands back on the edge of the counter and watched as he continued. Moaned as he teasingly grabbed at his pecks and jerked him off in the early morning sunlight.

Billy always looked so good at this time, the light catching the gold flecks in his air and in the summer his freckles could just be seen. Didn't matter if his hair was all mated or if he clearly hadn't showered yet. This was Steve's favourite Billy. Soft, warm and his. No one saw him like this but Steve did and he loved knowing that.

Even if he had something to say Steve wasn't giving him the chance to because his mouth was still on his as he continued his sudden need to do this to Billy. All because of this damn tank top.

He moved to kissing his way from Billy's neck to lifting up the grey fabric and kissing his still warm chest, then his stomach. He paused and looked up at him to see his eyes fixed right on him, not looking away for a second. Steve licked his tip and teached up to put his hands under the top again, feel the fabric brushing his knuckles and Billy's chest rise at the sudden sensation.

Steve knew how Billy worked, knew exactly what to do to get him where he wanted. So, without warning he began licking around him in circles, making sure to hit that sweet spot under his head. Make his legs weak and his fingers grip his messy hair. The sounds he was making were enough encouragement for Steve to continue until he finally took him in.

Felt his breathing become heavier, twitch slightly and then. Billy lurched forward and shot right into the back of Steve's throat. Except, he didn't stop. He kept going to make sure he got every bit he could out of him before swallowing and standing up to see his work.

Billy was blisted out. His eyes heavier than they were before and honestly Steve was proud of himself. That must have been a record for time. Normally he liked to edge him, keep him begging for more but right then he needed to get it done and suppress the feeling that top gave him.

The next time Billy wore it was about two weeks later while they were having a beer out by the pool. It wasn't particularly warm but the heat from the water was enough to keep Steve happy in his jumper and jeans. Billy, however, had decided he wanted to wear nothing but his own pyjama bottoms and that top.

He strolled out and walked right up to Steve and sat between his legs on the deckchair. "You're so warm," Billy remarked and snuggled into him.

Steve, again couldn't speak. He didn't even wrap his arms around Billy because his brain had short-circuited and he began kissing Billy's neck instead. Running his hands up his back under the shirt and instantly needing to repeat his actions from last time. Billy followed and stood up so that he could straddle Steve.

Have Steve looking up at him as he rest his hands on his shoulders for support. That was when Steve lifted the shirt and began licking Billy's nipples. He had never wanted to this much his entire time with him but something about that shirt made whatever was underneath so much more hot and he needed to get a hold of it.

Billy leant back so that he could get a better reach, let out quiet groans into the cool night air as Steve went to work on him. Except, he was so busy he didn't notice Billy reaching for his fly and pulling out his semi and moving his thumb over his head.

That was when Steve pulled down the shirt and kissed Billy while he pulled down his red and white checked pants to get a hold of him. Not a word was said, they had done similar stuff too many times to count since Billy recovered and they realised that they were more than friends.

It didn't take long for the two of them to finish, for Billy to lean forward and press their foreheads together as he groaned as he shot all over Steve's jumper and his hand. Steve grabbed at Billy's chest and he finished, unfortunately on the top. Meaning it had to be washed and would not be making an appearance for a little while.

The worst time was in the summer. About a week after Billy had worn it to bed and Steve had fucked him into the mattress while grabbing at the grey material to hold him down. It was the worst because the kids were over.

The pool had closed because some kid took a shit and it had to be cleaned for the next 48hrs so Steve offered his own. Not like his parents were around to be around to say no.

So Max, Lucas, Dustin and Mike were all lounging around in the sun. Steve messing around with the radio as Robin carried drinks to the little table near the grass. That was when Billy appeared, in nothing but that shirt and his old Lifeguard shorts. Steve was like 90% sure he had thrown those out but apparently not and he had brought them over just for the occasion.

"What? I wasn't gonna waste money on a new pair when I got these for free," Billy shrugged as he walked over to take his place on one of the deckchairs.

Steve knew by his face that he was doing this on purpose, he didn't need to wear a shirt but there he was in all his sun kissed glory. It took everything he had to not make up some excuse and drag Billy upstairs.

I need help with something. No.

Can you have a look at the Beamer because its acting up and you're a trainee mechanic. No.

Come help me pick a movie for later. No.

No way was he going to get Billy away from the pool and it not be obvious. So he had to sit and wait, avoid looking at him. Avoid thinking about it until finally the sun started to set and everyone needed to go home.

Within a minute of Steve waving Dustin goodbye he had Billy pressed against the kitchen sink. "I hate you."

"Not in this you don't," Billy smirked and spun around so that Steve was the one against the cold counter. His hands wet from the sink and his shorts becoming tight from the thought of Billy fucking him in that top.

Without a word Billy lifted Steve up by his ass and let him wrap his legs around his waist so that he could carry him into the living room and lower him onto the chair. "My dad's chair?"

"You scared he's gonna find out?" Billy didn't waste a second pulling off Steve's shorts and throwing them somewhere on the carpet. The blinds weren't even closed but it didn't matter because all he could think about was the fact Billy was standing over him in that shirt and he needed him to do whatever he was going to right that minute.

He was already half way there and all he needed was Billy pulling off his own shorts and revealing that he was already hard to get Steve to the same level. Billy was so thick, everything about him was thick. His arms, his thighs, fingers and most importantly his...

"Bottle's upstairs," Steve said but Billy just chuckled.

"Not today, princess."

Billy moved in nothing but the tank top towards the TV and bent down to grab something from behind the pile of vhs tapes that Steve had brought home from work. It was the bottle he always kept by his bed and Billy had moved it like he knew this was going to happen.

It wasn't necessary to question it because it didn't matter and it only sped up the whole thing which he was thankful for. Billy walked back over and knelt down in front of the chair to lift Steve's legs and get a good position. He heard the familiar sound of the bottle squeezing out the lube and then felt Billy move his thigh just a little more before looking at him and massaging his hole.

All he could do was lie their, his neck bent upwards and his legs in the air as Billy got him ready. Added a finger and began curling it and sliding in and out. Two fingers and then scissoring them to open him up, knowing he needed to be a little more open then himself because they had done this too many times to count. Once they knew they were clean, condoms weren't even a thought and once they knew how much better it was without them they were never mentioned again.

"That's enough," Steve breathed and Billy moved to get between his legs, put himself right against his entrance and begin pushing inside slowly to make sure Steve was comfortable.

Once he was, that was it. Steve held on for dear life as Billy fucked into him, his hands holding Steve's hips up in the air and Steve gripped to the loose fabric as much as he could from his position.

The cursing and the sounds he was making would make his grandmother cry but Billy was hitting his spot everytime and he was so close. He way the top was swaying with every thrust, the sweat patches appearing under his arms and the look in Billy's eyes and he moved at such a speed you could hear his hips hitting Steve, it was all too much and then Steve came. Untouched and hot, shooting onto his own bare chest as Billy continued. Didn't let up or stop his pace for a second making Steve grip to the shirt even more.

Billy leant forward, moving his hands to grip the arms of the chair as he came inside. Thick and hot just like Billy himself and then he collapsed on top of Steve, his head on his chest as he caught his breath. Steve ran his fingers through his sweat socked hair and took in the exhaustion.

When Billy finally stood up he pulled off the shirt and threw it on the pile of shorts. "I'm never getting rid of that," he smiled before scooping Steve up and carrying him towards the downstairs bathroom.

"I'll buy you a new one if you do," Steve replied as he sat on the toilet lid as Billy pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the hot water.

It became some kind of game between them but only in private. Although Billy loved the way it made him feel with Steve he would never wear it in public. Although the idea of walking into Family Video in nothing but jean shorts and the tank had come to mind he couldn't do that to poor Robin and the thought of the questions and lies put him off.

That didn't stop him from wearing it to bed, or to the backyard or under his jacket one night by the quarry. He knew exactly what was guaranteed by his wearing of it and that was a dangerous piece of information for him to have about Steve.

#i wrote this in like an hour and a half #and sm*t is not my forte so #harringrove fic #harringrove #steve Harrington #Billy hargrove #Billy x Steve #Steve x Billy

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fangirl1029 · 4 years

Text

Going home

honestly I think there isnt enough sam love on here and he deserves it

Sam Uley x reader

you had grown up knowing all about the legends around the pack. This didn’t mean that you thought theyd be true and eventually change your life.Not only did you know about the legends but you knew everyone in la push.

You had come home from being away at college the last few years after hearing from Bella that your younger brother had been super sick ,not returning her calls and avoiding her as if she was the plague. The strange part was that your father hadn't bothered telling you that jacob had gotten so sick.

Bella picked you up from the airport to take you home since you had gotten so wrapped up in trying to get home fast that you had forgotten to call your father to get someone to pick you up. Before you knew it to we're home and Bella had gotten out of her red truck and banged on your fathers door. “ what the fuck Bella??” you said when she stormed in the house demanding to see Jacob. You hear Bella yelling at the top her lungs and run to the back yard to see her getting into.....Paul’s face or who you thought could be paul.

You hadnt seen anybody from home in such a long time and all the boys had their hair cut short, had grown taller and added 20 lbs of muscle mass along with a tribal tattoo.”Bella what are you thinking pulling something like that?!” you yelled still running up to her and trying to get her away from paul , who all knew was a hot head.Now he looked like he could snap a girl bellas size into tiny pieces.

you had gotten to her too late and paul was shaking and shifted into a large wolf. Then a brown wolf had jumped and tackled the other wolf.

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you had sat in Billy’s kitchen with Bella. Billy was super mad at bella for storming into his house and had made both of you girls sit down and wait for the alpha of the pack to help explain to Bella what had happened.

Your world had been shaken to its core seeing that the legends were all true.

you sat next to bella trying to keep her calm as thoughts raced through your mind. ‘ who was the alpha of the pack? like it would have to be jacob right? were you going to shift too???” you stood fast and ran out of the house even though you were told to stay with bella. colors of green browns and black were around you as you continued to run into the woods moving past branches and jumping over logs. You went as far as your legs would take you until there was a tense pain in your chest. doubled over you breathed heavily slowly dropping to the ground. Anxiety filled your body.

After a few hours of being in the woods and trying to clear your mind and reassure yourself that you wouldn't turn there was a sound of cracking sticks. it couldn’t be Billy , maybe it was jacob you look around hoping to see someone you recognized.

no such luck , you were met with a chaote.’fuck um what was it that my dad always told me when we went hunting....’ your mind went blank and you began looking for anyway out. The animal lunged and you closed your eyes waiting for intense pain but there wasnt any.

there were 3 large wolves around you , one that you didnt recognize had killed the chaote and the other two in front of you looked like paul and the one that had pounced on him. the eyes of the brown wolf looked exactly like “ Jacob?” you asked looking at the brown wolf. He huffed and rubbed against your leg. The 3 wolves escorted you back home where your father was livid. “y/n all asked of you was to stay here with bella and wait for Sam why couldn't you do that?” you rolled your e/c eyes and decided a wolf fight was enough for today ” sorry dad...” Jacobs laugh filled the room from behind. “ Billy its fine we have it all handled from here." another voice came from behind you.

Y/n turned around so fast that it could've caused whiplash you looked at a man who looked like the other boys just taller and more built . “ who are you?” the man just stared at you as if he had never met a person in his life. “rude” you rolled your eyes and started to leave the room . A large hand grabbed your arm tightly. Jacob glared at the man “ you did not just imprint on my sister!” he yelled at the other man who had a hold of your arm. “wait what? imprinting is a thing too?” the taller man let go of your arm and nodded shly.

“jacob can you please handle telling things to bella since you are part of the reason she knows our secrets. and you come with me” jacob nodded and did as told.

la push beach was as beautiful as it had been years ago.” Im not sure if you remember me well but im Sam Uley, we had gone to school together” he stopped walking right in front of you.All you could do is nod and look up at him. of course you remembered sam , who had punched your boyfriend at the time during prom. “ you punched my boyfriend and broke his nose my senior prom.” his eyebrows raised “ well it was deserved” y/n rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. sam smiled and started walking with you again.” you know my dad is going to probabaly run over your feet with his wheelchair right.” sam laughed “ if that’s what it takes ill go through that pain for you.” You signed knowing that you only came back home because of jacob and now here you are , and imprint , a sister to a werewolf and daughter to a crippled man.

a week had passed and you had spent time catching up with your brother and father while sneaking off to hang out with sam for a few hours every night.

You woke up later than what had been planned due to embry and seth roughhousing and being loud. you came out in nothing but y/f/c crop top and jean shorts. your arms crossed tightly in front of you.

sam smiled looking at his imprint and all the fly aways that had came loose from her braids that made her look even more beautiful to him. y/n stomped over to embry and quill and got directly in the middle of them “ cant rough housing wait until everyone in the house is awake” y/n looked from embry to quill and back. Sam and Jacob tensed up looking at y/n be in the middle of those two. “ well to be fair we didn’t know Sam and you would be getting busy so quickly” quill mumbled. Paul and Seth laughed. y/n looked like she was ready to kill all of them. “ and to think I was goiong to be nice enough to cook lunch for y'all” Quill’s eyes got wide “ what im not going to anymore, maybe its time you got busy making your own damn food.” This made the boys groan and glare at Quill. Sam wrapped his arms around Y/n’s body from behind. “ cant you make an exception for me” Y/n smiled up at the man.” nope because you could've intervened."

break was close to being over for y/n and she still hadn't talked to anyone about going home. she had gotten so attached to the boys and loved being in her childhood home. Billy wheeled over next to his daughter. “ when do you have to go back home?” her fathers voice snapped y/n out of her thoughts. “ 3 days” “ im going to miss having you here” y/n smiled weakly at her father knowing that she’d miss him too. Sam messaged y/n asking her when she was going to be coming over. Y/n just looked at the message and ignored it falling asleep on her bed at billy’s house.

Around 5 am there was a knock on the door. Jacob rushed to go get it before it woke up anybody else in the house.... Too late Billy had gotten to the door before he could. Sam stood in the doorway no shirt on soaking wet from the rain that had already started so early in the day. “ i’ll get jacob-” “ im not here for Jacob sir, im here for y/n” sam cut Billy off. Billy took a long look at the man in his doorway and slammed the door in his face. “ When were you planning on telling me that Sam imprinted on your sister??? Does she know ?!” Billy yelled at his son.Y/n came into the room “ was that sam?” y/n ran out of the house to sam’s truck. He got out of the truck and pulled his imprint into a tight hug. “ you never answered my message last night and i got worried.” y/n sighed “ im leaving tonight sam , I have to go back home." His grip loosened on her. “ going home ?” he looked utterly heartbroken that his imprint was going to be leaving him and going god knows where. y/n looked up at him “ yeah ive got to take care of all my stuff so i can come back here to be with the people important to me.” sam lifted up y/n and twirled her around. He lightly set her down “ you need to take one of the guys to keep you safe since i cant be there with you.” y/n smiled and nodded “ yes alpha “ Sam bent down and kissed y/n lightly.

A/n; im not sure if there will be a part two if you guys want a part two lmk ill make it.

Edit: this is a series now 🤗 and it's doing well.

#twilight #sam uley #xreader #sam uley x reader #jacob black #bella swan #billy black #x reader #twilight wolf pack

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rawiswhore · 3 years

Text

Shawn Michaels x Fem Reader- “Monday Night Raw”

For those who type and write fanfiction, I don't know if I've posted this already, but when you write or type fanfiction, do you ever have difficulty of who you want to type this fanfiction about?

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In 1993, the World Wrestling Federation released a new television show known as "Monday Night Raw", a wrestling show that's still on the air to this day.

While "Monday Night Raw" was a flop during its early years, by the end of the 1990's, the ratings increased, and it was soon the most popular show on television.

Listen to that title: "Monday Night Raw".

Keyword: raw.

What does raw mean?

It means a lot of things: it can mean uncooked, not in its natural state, red and painful, strong and undisguised, and others.

But it also can mean coarse and crude, typically in relation to sexual manners.

It also can mean having sex without a condom.

In 1996, some chicks in the audience during a "Monday Night Raw" episode held up a sign that read "We wanna get raw with Shawn!", referring to Shawn Michaels, the biggest male sex symbol of the World Wrestling Federation during the 1990's, and there was a T-shirt of Sunny that read "I like it...Raw".

On a Monday night near the end of 1996, after he had a match filmed for the entire world to see, you invited Shawn to a hotel room, telling him what you want to do with him.

He loves your idea, he's had many ringrats telling him that on Monday nights.

This was Shawn a few months before he started growing facial hair, like during that infamous "I lost my smile" speech.

He looks so much better without facial hair than with it, sorry for those who like it.

You invited Shawn to a hotel room because he's the sexiest man in the WWF in 1996, he was even more sexier in 1997 and the summer of 1998 (maybe even in 1999 as well).

Billy and Bart Gunn's hair had yet to grow out, Rocky Maivia had that silly curly hairstyle that didn't suit him well, Jeff Hardy and his brother were barely in the WWF in 1996, Razor Ramon left for WCW in 1996, Davey Boy Smith is hot but not enough, Marty Jannetty and Leif Cassidy had those awful mullet hairstyles, Stone Cold is bald and kinda ugly, Brian Pillman is cute but has that awful facial hair on him, and you're definitely not doing it with Vader, Psycho Sid Vicious and Yokozuna.

Hunter Hearst Helmsley and Bret Hart are probably some of the hottest men in the WWF after Shawn, but they're not as sexy as the Heartbreak Kid.

You actually have had Monday night raw with some of these aforementioned men, where you had sex with some of them without a condom on Monday night, but you didn't really have Monday night raw with Billy and Bart Gunn until their hair grew longer and until Jeff was more in the WWF.

When you and Shawn were in a hotel room together, after you and he had kicked your shoes off, he gently pushed you on a bed, where you fell and landed on your back on the bed, on top of the silky comforters, and he leaned into you, pressing his body onto yours.

He was trying to be gentle with you and not hurt you since he weighs more than you do, though he isn't that big.

He pressed his lips to yours, his lips nudged into your lips, and his lips were in between your mouth.

You started making out with Shawn and kissing him, his lips shifted to your upper lip, and your top lip was in between his mouth this time.

While you and Shawn were making out, Shawn started undressing you, grabbing onto your top and pulling it over your torso and lifted it over your head, moving his head out of the way when your shirt was blocking his lips from colliding with yours.

You had no bra under your top, and that's a good thing, that makes it easier for Shawn to not have to unhook your bra.

He tossed your shirt aside, your shirt falling to the floor.

He changed into a T-shirt and jeans when you escorted him to a hotel room, which is a good thing, because what if he enters a hotel room wearing his wrestling tights?

He also sprayed some cologne on himself and cleaned the sweat off of his body with a towel previously in the locker room.

One of your hands grabbed onto the back of his shirt, the fabric of his shirt scrunched in the palm of your hand, and your other hand grabbed the side of his shirt and pulled it up his torso, lifting it over his head.

His arms were raising and elevating towards the ceiling because of you lifting his shirt over his neck and head, his sleeves sliding down his arms and hands when your hands tried pulling his shirt sleeves down his arms.

You threw his shirt on the floor when his hands slid out of the sleeves of his shirt.

One of your hands moved behind his head, your fingers buried in between his hair, and your fingers slid and ran down through his long brown locks like a comb or a hairbrush.

His hair is a little bit sweaty, but silky.

Thankfully, he doesn't have his hair tied back in a ponytail and definitely doesn't have that Billy Ray Cyrus mullet he had in 1993-1995.

You can feel his erection poking through his jeans in between your thighs, ready to come out at any given second.

Your hand pulled Shawn closer to your face, and your lips were in between his mouth this time.

Shawn was the first one to sneak his tongue into your mouth, and the tip of his tongue poked the tip of your tongue, giving it a few licks.

His tongue licked and stroked up the middle of your tongue, and your tongue licked his tongue as well, stroking and caressing his tongue with your own.

Since your hand was behind his head, playing with his hair, his hand squeezed between your head and the mattress, where his fingers managed to play with and stroke down your hair.

His hand cradled and held the back of your head, whereas his other hand

Your lips were locked in between his mouth, sometimes his top lip was in between your mouth and other times it was his bottom lip in between your mouth.

As you and Shawn made out, since you're topless, Shawn moved his hand from behind your head and placed both of his hands on your breasts, giving them a few gentle squeezes and fondles.

One of your hands was busy running your fingers through his hair, and you placed your other hand on his chest, your hand stroking and caressing the middle of his chest.

You've been making out with Shawn for long enough, so Shawn proceeded to slide his lips down the middle of your chin and brush his lips down the middle of your neck.

Chills were running down your spine as Shawn brushed his lips down your neck, you quietly moaned and gasped while your head arched back, slightly raising your head up from the mattress.

"Daddy" you quietly said. "Mmmmmmmm!"

You bit your bottom lip, mumbling and muttering.

Shawn gave your left and right sides of your neck several kisses, nudging his lips on your skin.

He's making you hornier, blood is rushing to your clitoris and filling it up.

Shawn is tempted into giving you a few love bites or two, maybe giving you a hickey, but those hickeys might be visible.

Plus, hickeys seem so juvenile, that's something you have as a teenager, though Shawn's a bit childish himself.

He proceeded to slide his lips all the way down your chest, until he shifted himself over to your left breast, moving his hand out of the way.

Your nipple had entered his mouth, where he proceeded to suck on that breast.

Shawn was sucking on your breast like he was kissing your lips.

He also licked up and down your nipple and areola, sometimes even made circles on your areola with the tip of his tongue.

You moaned quietly and bit your bottom lip when he licked you, it felt so good.

Your pussy is getting more and more moist thanks to him doing this to you.

One of his hands moved behind your back, traveling and roaming where your shoulder blades are, whereas his other hand was holding you by the small of your back.

His fingers and palm is making you feel tingles as it's traveling behind your back.

Since Shawn is shirtless, your hand on his chest shifted to the right side of his ribcage and moved behind his back, stroking up and down his flesh.

He shifted his head over to your right breast, where he started sucking your right nipple when it was in his mouth.

Like your previous nipple he sucked on, he licked up and down your nipple like it was a Popsicle, the tip of his tongue licking around in circles on your areola, sucking your nipple like it was your lips.

You could nearly moan out "Aaaaah, aaaaaaah, Shaaaaawn!" like those women at the beginning of his entrance theme.

"Mmmmmm, Daddy!!!" you moaned quietly.

It feels so good, your hand is gripping onto his hair, but not pulling his hair hard.

He is slightly hot with messy hair, maybe you should mess his hair up.

You hope that people next door won't hear you and Shawn when you start actually having sex, that's something that scares you.

Shawn couldn't wait to taste you and especially to fuck you.

You could let him lick and suck your tits all night if you could.

Shawn wants to cup the back of your head with his hand and hold your head in his palm, maybe he even can.

He'd also love to stroke your back, maybe he will do that when he gets to fucking you.

He's had enough of sucking your tits, so he moved his head to the middle of your chest, in between your tits.

He began to slide and brush his lips down the middle of your torso, all the way down your stomach.

Tingles and rushes were felt when his lips were sliding down your skin.

As he did this, his hand behind your back moved to one side of your shorts, whereas his other hand grabbed the other side of your shorts.

The tips of his fingers slid under the elastic of your shorts and grabbed your thong straps underneath.

He proceeded to try to pull both of your shorts and your thong down your thighs and legs while his lips slid down the middle of your abdomen.

His lips could feel how smooth your skin was, no hair under your navel or above it.

Shawn's head was eventually in between your thighs, where your twat is, and your shorts and panties were down to your ankles.

You lifted your feet up from the floor when your shorts and panties were at your ankles, letting them lay on the floor.

Shawn placed his hands on your thighs and spread them apart, so he could fit in more in between your legs.

His face was buried in your hairless twat, his tongue proceeded to stroke your pussy, licking up your moist juices.

Your vaginal flaps felt a little bit rough, but that was okay.

As he ate your pussy out, he moved his hands in front of his jeans, where he slid the zipper down and unbuttoned his jeans.

After he did that, the tips of his fingers moved under the sides of his jeans and elastic of his boxers, grabbing onto them, and pulled his jeans and boxers down at the same time, releasing his erection, until his jeans and boxers were down to his ankles.

When he was eating you out, his tongue licked up your pussy flap, licking and cleaning your pussy juice with the tip of his tongue, and he slid his tongue across your clitoral hood.

His lips and mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking and kissing your clit.

His tongue lolled out of his mouth and licked up and down the middle of your twat like it was a Popsicle, his moist tongue lubricating your pussy.

Though, you prefer if your twat was already moist with your own pussy juices.

You pulled his head into your pussy further, letting him devour your pussy and eat it up.

As he ate your twat, you were moaning and your eyes were closed, your back was lying on the bed.

"Mmmmmmmmm, Shaaaaaaaawn!" you moaned. "That's the spot!!!"

You weren't faking your orgasm, he really is making you feel good.

Your pussy hole has a thick, creamy, salty white goo coming out of it, and it isn't from an STD.

No, it's just regular pussy juice that tastes so good.

And...it's perfect lubricant for Shawn to put his dick in your twat.

Shawn has another match to do next week, so he shouldn't be wasting time.

He lifted and pulled himself up from the hotel room's floor, wrapping his fingers around his shaft, your hand behind his head slipped away from behind his head when he stood up.

His eyes looking down at you, he proceeded to insert his cock into your pussy hole, and hopefully his dick gets inside your cunt hole and not that other hole!

You moaned as his dick entered your twat, stretching your pussy walls apart, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, looking like you're possessed.

When his penis was entering more and more into your twat, he unwrapped his fingers around his shaft.

Your pussy walls were brushing his shaft, and he wasn't wearing a condom tonight.

When his dick was inside your twat, he proceeded to thrust his cock back and forth in your pussy hole, bucking his privates back and forth, his shaft sliding in and out of your pussy hole.

He was making the bed bounce and creak while he thrust in and out of you.

Sex without a condom can be wonderful because it feels so good, but it's dangerous.

Shawn's hands, meanwhile, held onto your hips while he thrust himself in and out of you.

You moaned his name several times, pleading at him to fuck you.

He's taking you higher with every fuck, and luckily you're glad your eyes are closed while he's banging you so you won't have to see his facial expressions.

You can even hear him moaning and groaning a bit while he thrusts in and out of you.

You've even called Shawn "Daddy" a few times while he's fucking you.

Your hands this time now have the chance to grip onto the comforter you're lying on top of, and that's precisely what your hands are doing, the silky, thick comforter bunched in the palms of your hands.

Your tits were bouncing up and down while he thrust and fucked you, and he's opening his eyes to take a peek at your tits bouncing.

This is turning him on, but he can't do this for too long because of his cock inside of you.

He's elevating you higher and higher with his thrusts, you're biting your lip and crying out (but not crying with tears streaming down your face), he's building you up and it feels like your clit wants to release something.

When you climaxed, your twat creamed all over his dick still inside of you, your clit pounding when you had came, but it isn't over until, well, he cums.

After you've been pleasured so much tonight, you finally have released some tension.

Shawn still proceeded to fuck you when you came, your twat slipperier than before.

"You're soooo wet!" he confessed as he thrust.

"Fuck me, Shawn!!!" you ordered and pleaded him, and that's what he's doing. "Mmmmmmmmmm, Daddy!!!"

Goddamn it, you hope the neighbors won't hear you next door having sex, especially calling him "Daddy".

Yes, daddy fetishes did exist in the 90's, just look at LL Cool J's "Doin' It" song from 1995...

He's rocking you so much back and forth, you're afraid the bed will nudge and collide with the wall and break a hole in the wall.

The back of your head is lifting up from the mattress while he's fucking you, and your toes are curling up from him banging into you.

Eventually, after many thrusts, he jizzed inside of you, groaning when he had came, his seed planted in your twat and traveling to your uterus, about to impregnate you.

He slowly withdrew his cock from your twat, your pussy hole leaking some gooey, salty cum that was a mixture of your cum and his.

You weren't allowed to give Shawn a blowjob until after he had came, and he was out of breath from fucking you so much.

He then joined you in bed, where you gave him a blowjob, swallowing his cum and licking around as well as up and down his shaft.

Eventually, you had your own Monday night raws with various wrestlers after this: Shawn Michaels, Hunter Hearst Helmsley/Triple H, Billy Gunn/RockaBilly, Jeff Hardy, Davey Boy Smith, Bret Hart, Brian Pillman, Val Venis, Bart Gunn, Christian, Test, Rob Van Dam, Scott Hall, Raven and more.

The intention was to have sex on Monday night without a condom with these men.

Sometimes, you even had little orgies with them where they fucked you without a condom.

Although, you've had sex many times with these wrestlers without condoms, even not on Monday night.

#shawn michaels #1996 #90s #monday night raw #wwf #fanfiction #hbk #heartbreak kid

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sipsthytea · 3 years

Text

Burn Me (don’t ever stop burning me)

Steve Harrington X Billy Hargrove

Implied Sexual content

Toxic relationships

Smut and Angst

Open (ish) ending

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea, and yet, Steve still pulled his car into the dirt path of the query. Shifting his car into neutral, sinking down into his leather seat, lead thudding dully against the headrest.

His body burned, vibrating beneath his clothes. It ached to be touched, to be ravaged, and it only seemed to want the seething burn of one person.

“You there, Harrington?”

Speak of the devil.

With a sigh, Steve reached over, clicking open his door, “I’m here,” he mumbled, “I’m here.”

Billy sauntered towards him, a hand resting on his belt loops, pulling his jeans dangerously low. Resting on his sharp hips, the slightest hint of that California tan made Steve’s mouth water. Jean jacket hanging off one shoulder, hooked around his middle and index finger, he wore sunglasses. The glint of the moon reflecting off the dark surface.

In his ears, Steve could feel his heart pump, almost rising above the shifting water below them.

Steve melted against his car, resting his back on the cool hood, hoping it would calm his red face.

This was such a bad fucking idea.

But his blood was pulsing. Heat began to build within his stomach, this was a bad fucking idea, but it was such a good fucking feeling. He lets Billy saunter towards him, lets the blonde rasp in his ear, “Are you ready for me, Pretty Boy?”

Steve pulls him closer until he can feel the roaring heat of Billy filly against him. He can smell musk and sex, but he doesn’t have time to feel hurt, to feel betrayed. Because Billy is kissing him, he’s kissing him and Steve is in the clouds.

Soaring miles and years above Hawkings, holding Billy’s hips in his hands, back pressed uncomfortably against the hood of his car, lips locked against burning fire. It hurts, but Steve can’t find it in him to care.

He wants to be consumed by the fire that is Billy Hargrove. He wants to be burned, to scrape himself until there’s nothing left. To expose everything to this boy. Because that’s what they are, they’re boys. Billy’s not a man.

“I’m always ready.”

And neither is Steve.

______

Steve wakes up in the backseat of his car, ass sore, marks on his chest, lips swollen, and cold. He’s always cold. The sun just barely crests the query, gliding along the water as it melts into deep purples and yellows.

Groaning, he doesn’t bother to sit up, it won’t do him any good. Reaching beneath the seat, hand reaching around blindly until he stumbles upon a bottle of pills.

Pain killers.

He always needs a few after burning in the arms of Billy.

His car is empty. It’s quiet. Billy’s gone, but what can Steve expect. He’s never stayed. Never.

Curling closer in on himself, Steve curses.

It’s so fucking cold.

______

Billy left his cigarettes, they’re menthols. Steve stores them away in his glove box.

______

“You’re fucking dumb,” Robin retorts, tapping her socked feet against my windshield. She’s sprawled out in my shotgun seat, hands folded behind her head, eyes closed, “So dumb.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve dismisses, sighing out heavily. His neck still burns. Small scorchings and burns littering across him, Billy never quite does leave you, “I know.”

“No,” she turns to me, head lulling, “You’ve gotta stop this, dingus,” her voice suddenly goes quiet. Reaching across and resting a soft hand on Steve’s cheek, ringed fingers cold against his skin, “You’ve gotta stop.”

Brushing her away, Steve steadies himself on his steering wheel, bracing his hands, “I know, I know.”

Because he does, Steve knows. He knows. He just can’t stop. Can’t bring himself to ever say no to Billy whenever the blonde eyes him, or when a piece of crumpled paper is pressed against his palm. He can’t say no when Billy offers to burn him, to run his scorching hands across Steve’s body, letting his heat engulf Steve until he forgets about the freezing cold that surrounds him.

“I know, I know, I’ll stop,” he looks over, locking eyes with his best friend, “I’ll stop.”

__________

He doesn’t stop.

Steve doesn’t stop. Being pushed against a wall, the thud echoing against the empty space of his house. Billy’s hands claw at his shirt, burning up to his hair, pulling lightly. Teeth nipping at the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw, lapping at the exposed skin. The movements make Steve’s knee’s week, causing him to slip down.

Billy’s hand gripping his jeans tight, shoving higher on the wall, “What’s wrong, Sweetheart? Riled up already?”

Steve just whines into Billy’s mouth, blowing his words into the furnace of Billy’s body. His head is spinning, climbing high into the clouds. Body peaking, “Billy,” he groans.

A hand grips at his neck, holding him in place, another burning hand travels into his pants, tracing the skin of his stomach. God, he’s going to explode.

Teetering over the edge of release, Billy pulls back, a smirk on his face. That’ motherfucker.

Quite literally.

“Tell me, Pretty Boy,” Billy smirks, blonde fringe dusting across his forehead, obscuring Steve’s view of his eyes. Wide and vast, bluer than the ocean, harder than stone, Billy’s eyes are beautiful.

Billy is beautiful.

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

‘You make me want to erupt,’ he doesn’t say, ‘You make me want to die in your arms.”

“Good,” he huffs, sliding down to his knees, hands sliding up Billy’s sides, fiddling with his belt buckle.

“You make me feel…”

‘Like I’m on fire...and I don’t ever want to stop…’ He doesn’t say.

“You make me feel good, Billy,” He says.

Long story short, Steve doesn’t stop.

__________

This time, Billy leaves his lighter. It’s small and pale blue, the handle is worn, being turned and flicked one too many times. Steve stores it in his glove compartment, scooting the cigarettes over.

Guess he’s building a collection.

_________

“What’s that on your neck?” Nancy asks, a curious hand reaching to ghost along his collar. Her sharp eyebrows are raised nose scrunching.

Steve’s face goes red, he slaps a hand on his throat, cursing softly. Gess this shirt wasn’t high enough, “It’s - it’s nothing.”

“Is that a hickey?”

Steve looks at her, it’s not like they’re dating anymore...so, he shouldn’t feel guilty, right?

“Uh,” he fidgets with his fingers, soothing over his shirt, “Uh...yeah. It’s a hickey.”

“Oh,” she says, stepping away from him, looking down, “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

They’d patched up their relationship, realizing that they never really wanted to be together. Or at least, that’s what Steve told her, that’s what she told him. She sat across from him, hands tossing her fries around her plate.

“I-I don’t.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice goes quiet, “Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” He says quickly, sliding back in the booth, folding his arms over his chest, “It’s not much of a relationship...so, don’t worry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-” What does he mean? How does he explain the way he feels? How does he tell her that he’s in love, in love with burning at the hands of someone who could care less if he recovers from those burns?

“I mean, that I love her...so,” he pauses, “So, I have sex with her, but she doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“Well, how do you know?” She looks at him, hand clasped around her drink, raising the straw to her lips, “How do you know she doesn’t love you too?”

Steve scoffs, thinking back to those cigarettes and that lighter.

“Just trust me.”

__________

It begins to add up.

Cigarettes. A lighter. His leather jacket. His cologne. A book. Underwear. A shirt. A comb.

It begins to spill out of his glove compartment, so he moves it into his room, shoving the items into a box.

“He’ll be back for them eventually.”

But Billy keeps leaving things.

Pants. Chains. Rings. Necklaces. Cigarettes. Another lighter. Whiskey. Shot glasses. Another book. Shirts. Papers. Feelings. Stories. Pens. Trinkets from California.

He leaves these fading crumbs of ember. Glowing late into the night, still searing against Steve’s hand as he drops them into the box. Buzzing when Steve tries to drift off to sleep at night.

His collection continues to keep growing. His box catches ablaze one night.

On a night when Billy has him pressed against his bed. Hands held against the headboard, fingers twisting within him. Poking and prodding at his entrance, “You like that, Pretty boy?”

Steve can only cry out, tossing his head back, straining as the pleasure rushes through him. God, he’s on fire. He’s burning up, the embers pressing so hard against his back.

“Tell me how I make you feel, Princess.”

It builds because all Steve can see is the hard outline of Billy’s shoulders. The soft drag of his hair against Steve’s chest sends him bowing upward, trying to find those sea-blue eyes in the darkness.

“Billy,” he gasps.

“Hm?”

“I love you...” He whispers breathlessly.

The fire that boils his skin, leaving him with scorch marks, goes cold.

“The fuck did you just say?”

__________

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea, and yet, Steve still allowed himself to fry at the hands of Billy Hargrove. Doesn’t really matter anymore.

“Here,” Robin hands him a lighter, gesturing towards his box. His collection. The embers have become lumps of coal, they’re heavy, they’re cold. Steve hates the cold.

This is for his own good, he knows that. But he doesn’t want to do this, he can’t do this. He looks at her outstretched hand, scrunching his eyes together.

“Robin…” He starts, his skin has been scabbed, he hasn’t been burned in weeks. It feels like years.

“Do it, Dingus,” her eyes are soft, she’s not judging.

And he does. Flicking open then lighter, relishing in the snap and temporary warmth that radiates within his palm. He drops the lighter into the box. The embers don’t pop to life, they just hiss and smoke.

“Are you ok?” she whispers, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Her hands are warm, but he doesn’t need warmth. He needs to burn.

He scoffs and she backs off. Taking tentative steps towards the small fire that began to dance in the query air, Steve sighed out. The fire moves, shifting, crackling. Steve swipes a hand through it, it hurts, but it’s cold.

It’s so cold.

#billy hargrove x steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #robin buckley #steve and robin being besties #shes' the best #periodt #toxic behavior #smut #implied smut #IM SO SORRY #this is so sad #omg ok bye

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gideongrace · 4 years

Note

11, 48, 51 for the ace prompts please and thank you! ☺️

11. "Fuck the avocadoes! We're leaving!"

48. "But see that's kind of the problem: I love you. Like crazy, stupid love you."

51. "What do you mean, they were flirting with me?"

I got 48 and 51 as a matched set twice (once from an anon and once from bisexual-cupcake), so I'm going to do them as the same scene in two different povs, one from Billy, one from Steve.

"Fuck the avocadoes! We're leaving!"

Billy looks up from the avocadoes he's currently hunting through - they're all as hard as rocks and normally he'd just say fuck it and buy them anyway, leave them in a cupboard for a few days to ripen but he needs to make guacamole and get to a party in a little less than an hour, half an hour now, probably, so there isn't exactly time for that.

"Did you hear me?" Steve yelps loudly, all frustrated. "I said fuck the avocadoes! Let's go!"

Billy bites down on his bottom lip but he bursts out laughing anyway.

"What?" he asks, smiling wide at his big, dumb idiot.

He can't help it. Steve's adorable. He's got ugly, black sweatpants on, an old navy blue t-shirt with this stretched out neck that's just exposing some of his shoulder and his hair's all flat on one side because his left arm still doesn't quite work right since he got shot a week ago and he refuses to let anybody help him with his hair. Or with his clothes. Or with his anything, really, so Billy, Dustin and Heather as well as Steve's non-cop friends Nancy and Jonathan have all been taking turns being with him, helping him out with as much as they can, whether he wants them to or not.

He won't let anybody touch his hair, though. No matter how many times anybody offers, not even Billy.

Instead he just sulks and moans and complains about it endlessly, flopping onto the couch and complaining like this is all just such an inconvenience to him.

If it were anybody else, it'd be annoying. But with Steve it's somehow endearing. So of course the words, "I love you, you big, dumb idiot," almost come flying out of Billy's mouth, like he can practically taste them, can feel them pressing up against his teeth and fighting to claw their way out but Billy shakes his head and holds them back.

Now is not the time.

"I just," Steve goes to cross his arms across his chest, thinks better of it halfway through and winds up with his good arm slung across his chest awkwardly and his bad one still hanging limply at his side. "I just want to go. Now."

With a closer look, Billy notices the way the garish, bright lighting of the little neighborhood grocery store they're in is bringing out the bags under Steve's eyes and the paleness of his skin and it sends Billy's stomach lurching sideways, has him thinking about things he doesn't want to think about. Things like Steve in that hospital bed and how it could have gone so, so much worse, so, so easily.

So he puts the avocado in his hand down on the pile and takes Steve's hand in his. "Okay," he says. "We'll go."

He lifts up his other arm - the one with the bulky black plastic grocery basket balanced in the crook of his elbow and he shakes it slightly. "Just gotta pay for this first."

Steve's face screws up unpleasantly, his nose crinkling and scrunching. "Okay," he says, not looking in the least like he agrees with what he himself just said. "Fine."

Billy squeezes his hand once then twice before dropping it and turning around. They walk to the front of the store and put their things on the little black conveyor belt thing to be scanned, then they fight over who gets to pay and Steve loses.

Partly he loses because his argument of, "Come on, I'm not doing anything else right now," pales in comparison to Billy's, "Because you got shot last week!" and partly because after Billy says that the cashier with the dyed cherry red hair and blood red, lacquer-bright lips ever so slightly angles the debit machine towards Billy and looks Steve over, eyes wide and suddenly very interested.

And Steve, of course, just stares right back with his big, brown Bambi eyes, clueless and not getting it, not at all.

So as soon as he's done paying, Billy grunts, grabs his thankfully already bagged groceries, loops his arm through Steve's and drags him out towards the Camaro, suddenly feeling a very strong need to kiss him, to claim him right in front of this stupid, little store, right out in the open where that cashier can turn around from their spot at the register and watch him doing it because Steve is his and everyone needs to know about it.

They just barely reach the car before Steve drops Billy's arm and starts to laugh. "Now what's got you so bothered?"

Billy jerks the car door open and carelessly, gracelessly chucks his bag of groceries into the back seat then throws himself into the driver's seat with just about as much finesse, which is to say none at all.

Steve gets in the passenger side much more carefully, almost gingerly and gives him a look that says even if he didn't get what that cashier was doing, he knows what Billy is doing.

"Okay, now what's bothering you?" he says, each word enunciated like it's being bitten off into its own sentence.

Billy looks away.

"That cashier was flirting with you," he says. He can feel his face heating up with the words, with the shame of it. He doesn't like being jealous, but he still can't help feeling it anyway.

Steve laughs again. "What? What do you mean they were flirting with me?" He sounds completely and fully confused, just like he always does because Steve literally never gets it when anyone is flirting with him.

He never notices when he's doing it, either. Just does it, easy as anything; people think that Billy is a shameless flirt, and he is, he absolutely is but Steve is worse, just turning on the charm full blast at random like he does with no cause for it or sense to it.

"They were," Billy says, insistent.

He spins around in his seat, shoulders twisting, body turned completely towards Steve, completely open, absolutely all of him wanting to spill out the words, "I love you," and, "It's why I'm so jealous," all over him, like a big, old bucket of paint, just douse him with it, mark him with it and be done. But the words stay carefully locked behind and between his teeth, stay there itching and scratching like miniature razor blades and cutting just as much.

Steve shrugs.

"If you say so," he says, as disbelieving as ever and that… oh, that has the razor blades digging in deeper, has them carving up Billy's gums and his tongue and his cheeks, has them replicating, duplicating, multiplying, multiplying, multiplying until the words, I love you, I love you, I love you, are filling up all the space in his mouth, all the little cracks and crevices in Billy's fractured, war-torn soul, until they're cutting him to pieces, splintering him into ribbons, until -

"Billy?"

Steve looks concerned, has those big, brown eyes trained on Billy's face in that way he just knows Billy is powerless against, that has Billy swallowing all the blood in his mouth.

"I, well, you," Billy stammers.

He wasn't meant to love. Wasn't built for it, doesn't know how. He hadn't even meant to, hadn't meant to love Steve, it had just sort of happened on accident, like one day he was just sorta there, then one day Billy had just sort of loved him and it's irrevocable now, irreversible, he's incomplete without it where before he'd been totally fine, totally fine and happy on his own, thank you very much and now Steve with his big, stupid eyes and his big, stupid heart and…

Billy had almost lost him.

Billy rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans and looks down.

"You, you just…" He can't get it out. He doesn't know how, but the razor blades won't go down, won't go away, no matter how many times he tries to swallow them down, they just won't go away. He can't go back, can't stand back, can't unknow what he knows now is unequivocally the truth. He loves Steve. Like loves him loves him.

"Hey, hey," Steve says, all warm, all soft, all melty chocolate chip gooey. He runs a delicate hand under Billy's jaw and drags it up, makes Billy look him in the eye. "Whatever the problem is, we can deal with it together. Right?"

That softness, the softness Steve is always saving up and using on him, just on him, it shatters him, has him choking out: "But see that's kind of the problem: I love you. Like crazy, stupid love you."

Steve's whole head twitches on instinct, either like he wasn't expecting to hear that or… Billy doesn't want to think about 'or'.

Either way, Steve says, "And why is that a problem?" as his hand trails from Billy's jaw down the side of his neck to grip at his shoulder. "Because I love you, too."

For a moment, Billy sits with that, swallows it, lets the words and the feelings sink deep and fill him up whole, lets them strip away the razor blades and heal the cuts, soak up the blood they've left behind. Lets them until they go sour, bursting and bristling and bitter. So, so bitter.

"You really shouldn't," Billy says.

He looks away again, looks back towards the store and sees the cashier from earlier staring at them, makes eye contact and doesn't look away.

"Why not?"

Steve's hand sits perfectly still on Billy's shoulder and Billy knows him well enough to know how much effort that stillness is costing him, knows how badly Steve wants to squeeze him, wants to force him to turn and look and face him. But he doesn't. Because like always, he knows just what Billy needs. Knows Billy needs to be given time to come to it himself.

"Because you shouldn't," Billy says, still looking at the cashier, still daring them to look away. They don't. The words, because I'm broken go unsaid, but Billy knows Steve hears them just the same.

Steve sighs and this time his fingers grip tight to Billy's shoulder, digging in deep.

"No, you're not broken, don't even try and start with that," Steve says, voice suddenly shifting all the way from gooey to gravel to stone in a split second.

Billy chuckles but it's mirthless, devoid and hollow and cracking and wretched. "This isn't an ace thing, Steve," he says.

"And who said it was?" Steve's fingers dig so deep it's like they're trying to find bone.

"I know what this is about -" His voice pitches into inky blackness, becomes dark as the night sky without a single star to light it and he says, "I know who this is about and he's wrong. That bastard that had the nerve to call himself your father? He was wrong. About absolutely every-goddamn-thing. There is nothing wrong with you, Billy Hargrove. Nothing. Alright?"

Billy shuts his eyes slow, lets his breath shudder out of him. All he's got is one word. "Why?"

"Why what?"

Billy squeezes his eyes shut tighter as Steve's grip loosens, as his fingers start stroking gently up and down his arm.

"Why are you -" Why are you here? Why do you love me? Why do you care so much?

Even unasked, Steve answers. "I love you because I love you." Steve's hand trails down from his shoulder to his chest, rests over his heart. "You're so much better than you think you are. So much more deserving than you think you are."

Billy opens his eyes to see Steve leaning in towards him, pressed in as close as he can be without just fully climbing into Billy's seat and sitting on his lap, not that he'd fit.

Steve's hand over his heart tightens, fingers digging in like they're scrambling for purchase and that's when it clicks - Steve's afraid.

Not of him. But for him. He's made Steve afraid. Steve cares enough to be afraid for him, Steve wants to love him, wants to care. Steve does.

Billy feels himself letting out a deep breath in a way he hasn't since just before he got that phone call and he leans forward, presses into Steve's touch.

"Okay," Billy says softly.

"You have a better heart than you think you do," Steve says, like he hadn't heard him, like he thinks Billy still needs convincing.

So Billy takes Steve's hand, plucks it from his chest and intertwines their fingers.

"Okay," he says.

And he kisses him.

fic tag squad:

@a-magey @xgardensinspace @myboyfriendsteve @haxpr0cess @thinger-strang @nagdabbit @demi-don @lissieisspacey @tracy7307 @ihni @yourneighborhoodace

@harringrovetrashh

(I can add or remove people from this list just let me know in a comment or whatever.)

#asexual representation #asexual fic #asexual #asexuality #asexual fic collection #gideonwrites #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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catharrington · 4 years

Note

I may have scrolled down and see that promp list and... you know 😍. So can I ask for bodyswap & kegboys?

I have never never written body swap au before so bare with me!!!

@livedsomanylives thanks so much for the ask!! and here is a link for the list my ask is always open for more!

***

Steve woke up but it didn’t necessarily feel like he woke up, he was sure he was still dreaming. Laying down on his stomach, head slightly turned to the side, he saw a gaudy poster of a three headed Cerbus looking thing growling back at him. Steve blinked. Mostly sure he didn’t hang a poster on the back of his door while he was sleeping.

Then the door shook, rocked on its hinges, with a mean knocking noise. “Get the Hell up! You are not going to make Max late again because you were curing your hair!” And then more words were said but rushed and under the mans breath. Steve didn’t recognize the voice, but he sure was starting to get a grasp on the location.

He wasn’t sure how it happened but he must have slept over with Billy, maybe sleep-walked and climbed through his window sure, sure. Steve lifted himself and spun around to find the bed empty. He sat up and looked around and found the whole room empty. Except for him.

Steve hesitantly, reminding himself to take steady breaths, started towards the closet and small mirror set up there. He looked at his reflection, and Billy looked back.

Omg, he thought. It’s like a shitty sci-fi tv show. Steve felt Billy’s cheek and the beard trying to grow there, then across Billy’s head of tight curls, then he cupped one of Billy’s meticulously crafted abs. Then Steve stopped himself.

Don’t be a pervert, he sighed almost out loud.

“Hey, jerk, are you awake?” That was Max’s voice and Steve barely had anytime to consider how fresh weird this was before she busted the door open.

Steve blinked back at her, standing in only flannel pajama bottoms in front of the mirror, and she glared back at him, arms crossed and ready for school. School, Steve almost choked on the idea.

“Earth to Billy?” she shook her red hair.

“Get out!” Steve gasped, finally able to use words in this foreign throat, he turned to her and fluttered his hands in a wild motion, “get out, get out!”

She closed the door to his sputtereing, thankfully leaving Steve alone in his spazzing.

Just a minute later he comes out, now wearing a long sleeve shirt and maybe clean jeans he found on the floor while tugging on a denim jacket. Steve knew he looked crazy but he dressed with his eyes closed.

“About time,” the same man, Billy’s father, growled out. Steve kept as far from him and the breakfast table as possible. He shimmied across the kitchen counters making a bee line for the door.

“Max, let’s get going... to school.” Steve almost couldn’t finish his sentence listening to another voice come out of his mouth.

Thankfully, Max jumped up and lead the way to the Camaro.

This, I think I can handle, he slid into the driver side of the Camaro and whistled. Running his hands up the steering wheel, before twisting the key and listening to her roar to life. Steve wasn’t noticing; well he was ignoring, the way Max was judging him from the corner of her eyes.

Steve’s plan was simple; just drop Max off and find Billy. Well, find his own body. When he pulled into the high school parking lot he thanked the gods for not making him work too hard.

There Billy was, or rather Steve was, leaned on the side of his burgundy BMW, wearing the same faded tshirt he wore to sleep with a pair of jeans slapped on, and nawing the end of a cigarette like it owed him money. Oh, ding ding.

Steve pulled up right next to him, already ruined with the idea of Steve Harrington out for everyone to see smoking in the parking lot. Trying not to remember the way he went to bed in that shirt, and only that shirt on.

“Hey, man,” Steve started as he climbed out of the Camaro, but that’s as far as he got before another’s voice interjected.

“Oh my god,” Steve turned to look and Billy stopped short his rage march over to look too. And there was Tommy, freckles the same as the night before; newly painted pink with a blush.

Billy caught his eyes with a worrisome flick, reading the same Steve felt, he knows and he knows something about it.

“Oh my god,” Tommy repeated. This time higher pitched as Billy shoved him hard into the steel blue metal of the Camaro.

“Spill it, Hagan. Obviously some really twisted shit is going down and I don’t like it.” Billy drawled the words low but loud into Tommy’s face. Steve was a little weirded out by watching his own body shove around his best friend, got even more weirded out when he noticed Tommy’s pink blush double.

“Spill what ever the fuck you know. You hear me, freckles!” Billy yelled in Steve’s voice.

“Yeah yeah, I just don’t know how to reply!” He tried in vain to shove Billy off, but the feral fighting spirit of Billy coupled with the inches Steve has on Tommy meant he didn’t budge. “Okay!” Tommy threw his hands up, looking between them two.

“Alight, I’ll tell you.” Tommy surrendered. Steve let his eye contact drop and didn’t really mean to focus on the way Tommy was straining hard againt the front of his jeans. Oh, that’s interesting.

Billy kept him pinned; let up just a little but didn’t move away. Billy didn’t style or even brush Steve’s hair this morning. Steve at least tried to finger comb Billy’s mane into something presentable, but Billy didn’t even try. So Steve’s hair was wild in all directions and unhinged. He looked angry, or fucked out... one of the two.

That idea sent a shiver down Steve’s spine.

“I did this. Last night.” Tommy started quietly, word by word. “I found a book in my basement, in my grandmas old stuff. And it was like... it promised to make...,” he trailed off.

Billy wasn’t satisfied. He shoved his arm, Steve’s body’s bony elbow, right up to Tommy’s throat. “You used a book? Are you some sort of black magic devil fucker? Some creepy Evil Dead shit?”

“What?!” Tommy squeaked.

Steve finally decided to step in. He pushed against his own body to relax a little, pulling his taught arms away, having Billy’s muscles helped with that. Billy sneered like a pissed lizard but he backed off Tommy.

“Just let him finish.” Steve said softly, and the weirdness of Billy’s voice being that soft coming out of his mouth was not ignored by anyone. Especially Billy himself who blushed a little, squirming in the hold Steve kept on one arm.

Tommy rubbed his throat, didn’t make eye contact again, but continued. “It was supposed to make you guys... get over yourselves.” Billy’s little excuse me?! From the side was kept in check by Steve’s hold on his arm. He leveled him with a sharp glare before turning back to Tommy.

“What does that mean?” He asked, super confused.

Tommy rolled his eyes. He shuffled, bit his lip, eyed up Steve’s body coiled tight ready to attack him again, before he continued. “You guys like each other. It’s so annoyingly obvious, like the worst kind of obvious. I just wanted to... help?”

Steve let his grip lax on Billy, and Billy stopped trying to claw his way out. They kept touching the other. Then slowly turned and saw matching wide eyed stares. This is not exactly how Steve wanted to confess, like telling your crush while he’s snarling pissed off and trapped inside of your own body you like him isn’t exactly romantic, holy shit. But he gave a weak smile anyways.

“It wasn’t that obvious, don’t be dramatic,” Steve was clutching onto the one shred of standards he could keep.

Billy sputtered a little, his tongue swiped out to lick his lips, but he gave a weak cocked smile. And shrugged. “I mean,” he was holding his smile; then he blinked a few times and the anger was back, “hold on, you fucking cursed us?”

Tommy backed himself into the side of the Camaro this time to get away from the anger in Billy’s voice. “It’s temporary! Totally, totally temporary! But- I can reverse it. I think? With my grandmas book.” Tommy was talking to his own shoes, nervous and blushing, and Steve noticed still quivering in the front of his jeans. Those jeans must be uncomfortable.

“Then let’s go,” Steve offered. He pulled against Billy’s arm towards the Camaro. Sliding the cold keys into his hand. Then flicked his eyes up to Tommy’s.

Billy was hesitant but he took the cue. Only stopping to fake lunge at Tommy once before he got in the drivers seat. Steve walked after him, he stopped to drag a hand over Tommy’s shoulder in a comforting way. Before he grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and walked him to the passengers side.

“Let’s get this all sorted out in your basement, right? Then maybe if you don’t mess anything else up I’ll show you how thankful I am for all this soul revealing revelations shit.” Steve muttered.

Tommy couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he was shoved into the back seat and they speed off away from the high school.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #my fic #harringrove fanfic #steve/billy #prompt fill #kegboys #keg boys

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speedybaeandbirdiebae · 3 years

Text

WandaVision: On a Very Special Episode... Part 2 AU Remake

Pietro and Candance are pulled into the hex and are now happy residents of Westview. But there is something more to just a visit with a long lost sister. Warnings: Spoilers from Episode 5 of WandaVision, uber cuteness of Billy and Tommy, and fangirling Pairings: Pietro Maximoff x Candance Wilson (OC), Wanda x Vision Words: 2266

It hurt, everything hurt. She didn’t know what was going on nor did she understand why she felt a warm summer’s breeze rather than the crisp autumn air. However, in her head she could hear someone repeat the phrase “Play your part, you’re no longer who you know you are, you’ve always been here in Westview, it is your home”. Sitting up on the soft green grass Candance looked around the strange town square. Everyone seemed to be going about their businesses. She could hear excited chatter, people weren’t paying her any attention, some of them did stop to stare at her, some of them pointed and whispered. She sat up and placed a hand to her head, she let out a soft groan an oncoming headache invaded her head. Looking down at her clothes she began to wonder just what she was wearing, however that voice in her head once again repeated the same phrase, telling her to play her part, she needed to keep things happy, hopeful, and no sorrow. “Pietro?” Candance whispered softly as she looked beside her and saw her boyfriend was sitting next to her, but wait he was staring up at the sky unblinking almost as if he was entranced by something. “Piet! Pietro!” Pietro snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at Candance with a small smile. His hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Hey sleepyhead.” “Pietro, I was asleep?” Candance asked softly staring at him. “Wait, you let me sleep in public like some kind of spazz?!” she slapped him in the chest. “How rude, maybe I should find someone else to be my husband then.” Pietro shook his head. “I’m sorry princess,” he chuckled before he stood up and dusted his pants off. “Come on, we need to get going to find Wanda.” “Wanda? You never mentioned a Wanda.” Candance said before a thought invaded her mind breaking through the cloud that was covering her memories. “Wanda…Wanda is Pietro’s sister; she’s my best friend and she needs hel—What if Wanda is his ex-girlfriend?! What if he’s cheating on me?!” “Wanda’s my sister,” Pietro assured her. “We haven’t seen each other since she left home when she was 15, our parents had left us alone and I tried to keep her happy.” “Right, your sister,” Candance got up and stretched as she once again took note of her attire. She was wearing a pair of leggings under a short skirt with a top that revealed her midriff. She reached up and touched her head feeling that her hair was held up in a tight high ponytail with curls framing her face. She looked over at Pietro quietly and took in his appearance. Pietro was dressed in a pair of black jeans with a purple shirt and a black leather jacket over it. His hair was slicked back with a few strands out of place. What stood out the most was the strange necklace he was wearing. However, something else was wrong, Pietro sounded different, he didn’t have his accent. That was one thing that Candance remembered him having, and she also knew had a better sense of style. What was going on? “Come on babe, we have to go visit Wanda,” Pietro told her. “I think she lives around her somewhere.” “Umn, ok.” Candance fell silent and gave a soft squeak of surprise when she felt him lift her up and into his arms. “Pietro, I can walk on my own.” “How can I let you walk when we’ll be running?” Pietro kissed the tip of her nose and took off running. He took a moment to look down at Candance as he noticed she was holding onto him for dear life. Wait why was he carrying her? She had something to keep up with him, right? She’d been lent a pair of wings by Sam---wait no Candance couldn’t keep up with him. She wasn’t gifted with powers. Not like him and Wanda. She was a normal girl he met in Sokovia when Candance was volunteering at a farm. Candance tried her best to figure out what was going on, why was everything so strange? Why did her head hurt? Most of all why was everyone they passed unphased by Pietro using his power in public? Shaking her head to clear the thoughts she sucked in a breath and laid her head on Pietro’s chest as she let him carry her to wherever the mysterious Wanda lived.

--------------------------------------- “Pietro and Candance were pulled into the hex,” Monica looked at Darcy and Jimmy with worry all over her face. She knew the two were capable of fighting but she also knew that Wanda would probably eject them from her world if they even tried talking to her. “Pietro?” Darcy asked. “You mean Pietro Maximoff? Wanda’s brother? I thought he was killed by Ultron.” “He was, but the technology used by S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him back, and he had been recovering with Clint Barton and his family.” Monica explained. “And what’s his relation to Agent Wilson?” Jimmy asked. “Agent Wilson, Candance is Sam Wilson’s younger sister and also a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Monica said. “She and I are friends and I’ve had her help me out from time to time. She and Pietro are dating.” “Dating?” Darcy got a small smile on her face and looked at Jimmy holding out her hand. “Pay up Woo, I called it.” Jimmy rolled his eyes and pulled some money out of his pocket and handed it to Darcy. “So, Pietro and Candance went into the hex to bring Wanda out?” “No, Pietro might’ve ran inside the hex to save Wanda himself and if I know Candi, she probably went after him.” Monica shook her head. “But don’t count those two out, they might be the ones to get Wanda to stop the hex.” “Or she could kill them,” Darcy reminded Monica. “We’ve seen her angry and we don’t want to make her angrier. I---.” She heard Wanda and Vision arguing coming from the tv. She quickly walked over to it and looked at the scene unfolding. “This is new.” “New?” “Wanda and Vision don’t fight, and it looks like Wanda’s not cutting it out of her show.” Darcy said.

------------------------------------- Pietro sat Candance down in front of a house and looked at her with a small smile. “This is where Wanda lives,” he said in excitement. “I can’t wait until you meet her.” “Pietro,” Candance began and placed a hand on his cheek. “Something’s wrong, haven’t you noticed how everyone’s happy? And what happened to your voice and—ow, umn yeah I’m excited to meet Wanda.” “Did you hurt yourself?” Pietro asked almost immediately began checking her for any bruises. “No, I don’t see anything, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you while I was carrying you?” “No no, just a headache,” Candance assured him with a smile. “I’m fine, come on let’s go say hi to your sister.” Pietro nodded as he turned to ring the doorbell. He didn’t notice a figure hiding behind some bushes in the yard nor did he notice that Candance had gone to investigate. Candance for a second had regained control of her mind and looked around the yard, she reached into her…handbag and groaned when she saw the only thing in it was a squirt gun. Shaking her head she walked toward the bushes and got closer and closer until. A stray black cat leapt out of the bushes and hissed at her before taking off. Candance rolled her eyes before looking over her shoulder when she heard the front door open. She spun around and saw it, or rather her. “Wanda is here, so she’s sa---ow…” Candance fell to her knees and held her head before looking up with a small smile and got up as she jogged up to where Pietro was. “Wanda who is this?” Vision asked. Wanda looked at Vision before looking back at Pietro. She didn’t say a word and merely continued staring at him in disbelief. “Long lost bro gets to squeeze his stinkin’ sister to death or what?” Pietro asked and held open his arms for Wanda to hug him. “Pietro…” Wanda whispered before she hugged him tightly. Pietro hugged his sister with a small smile before looking up and took notice of Vision. “Who’s the popsicle?” Wanda stayed silent before noticing Candance standing behind Pietro. “Candance?” she whispered before shaking her head. There was no way that her brother was here let alone her best friend. “Wanda, I’m sorry for dropping in unexpectantly, but I wanted to see you.” Pietro told her before he turned and grabbed Candance by the hand and pull her inside the house. “I know you have several questions but first I’d like you to meet Cadence, we’re going to be married in a few months.” “Hi,” Cadence said as she tried to figure out where she had seen Wanda before. It was strange but for some reason it seemed as though they met before. “I’m sorry that we didn’t call but Pietro insisted on surprising you.” “No problem,” Wanda waved a hand and smiled. “Oh, um Pietro and Candance, this is my husband Vision.” “Vision huh?” Pietro looked Vision up and down as he raised an eyebrow. “Where did you meet him?” “At um, a party,” Wanda said quickly. “Vision and I have been married for awhile now, we’ve lived in Westview for years.” “Oh cool,” Pietro said. “So, I think me and bro-in-law should get to know each other, how about you and Candi go and get to know each other.” “Good idea,” Wanda said. “Follow me.” Candance followed Wanda into the kitchen, as she looked at her quietly before sighing. “So Wanda, you and Pietro grew up overseas and moved here when you were teenagers?” “Uh, yeah sort of, our parents are…” Wanda began and paused. “Our parents are no longer with us, but Pietro coming here after 7 years is kind of a surprise.” “I didn’t know he had a sister,” Candance laughed softly and shook her head before looking at Wanda as she walked forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Wanda, what’s going on? Why are we here? Are you ok what’s goi--.” “Candance are you ok?” Wanda asked narrowing her eyes as red magic began to circulate around her hands. “Yeah, I meant are you ok, I know how weird it is for Pietro to be here,” Candance said and let Wanda go. “I’m sorry can I have a glass of water?” “Yeah…” Wanda stepped away and went to get Candance a glass of water. She took note of the strange bag on Candance’s back. “So where are you from?” “Oh, I’m from Harlem, New York.” Candance said brightly and looked around the kitchen. “I was raised by my brother after our parents were murdered by gang members. I think that’s why Pietro and I bonded so quickly two orphans in this world with just our siblings.” “I see, and you’ve seen your brother?” Wanda asked pouring water into a glass before sliding it to Candance. “Hmn? Yeah, Sam is in Washington D.C. on business for a while,” Candance explained. “He and his friend are running our family’s restaurant.” “I see,” Wanda said as she began walking around to get behind Candance to inspect the bag she was wearing on her back. “So, your brother lives nearby, and you decided to come with Pietro to see me?” “Yeah, it’s a fun road trip before Pietro and I get married.” Candance began to giggle. “I think he wants to run off to Vegas to get married.” “I see,” Wanda managed to get behind Candance and reached for the bag before she saw Candance turn around. “Oh do you want me to take your backpack up to the guest room where you Pietro will be staying?” “No thanks,” Candance said and looked at Wanda with a serious look. “You’re obvious curious about what I have in this bag aren’t you?” “no no,” Wanda said shaking her head. “It’s nothing really,” Candance took off the backpack and opened it as she held up a piece of red fabric attached to a red sleeve. “A design I’m working on for Halloween, but you’ll have to wait and see what it is, since I want to keep it a secret from Pietro.” “Oh, I see,” Wanda laughed it off as she finally relaxed deciding that Candance couldn’t have been sent in to pull her from her life she had built with Vision. “Hey, we should go into the living room and see how the guys are doing?” Candance asked. “I’m sure they’re probably bonding.” “Right.” Wanda said and followed Candance out of the kitchen into the living room and laughed at the sight of Vision being held in a headlock by Pietro. “Pietro, Vision what’s going on in here?” “He attacked me,” Vision said. “Stop being a baby.” Pietro chuckled. “I thought I’d show bro-in-law some Sokovian self-defense moves. He’ll need to learn since he’s married to you.” Wanda rolled her eyes but laughed deciding to let Pietro have his fun. She did begin wondering if she brought Pietro back to life, but why did she bring Candance to her world too? Was it because she missed her best friend? PLEASE STAND BY

#wandavision #pietro maximoff x oc #pietro maximoff #candi wilson #Speedy Bae and Birdie Bae Fan Fiction #MCUfanfic #MCU fanfiction #mcu au #WandavisionAU #quicksilver x oc #quicksilver

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crocodileniall · 4 years

Text

masterlist wattpad

part 1.3 in which they waste time

warnings: swearing

word count: 3201

Julianna gathered her most prized possessions into her bag. A journal, her favorite pen, the book she was reading, a sketch book, and a baggie of cookies. Homemade.

She stood a foot away from the door, clad in a pair of jeans, ripped at the knee and a jacket that did its best to keep her warm. She knocked on Niall’s door, baggie in hand. Gordy was beside her, nose pressed to the crack of the door.

The door opened, Niall was bleary eyed, hair disheveled in only a pair of sweatpants. Julianna let her eyes slide down his chest. Maybe she looked a bit too hard at the happy trail that left a lot to the imagination, disappearing down the waistband of his sweatpants. Maybe she wanted to trail her fingers down it just to see where it’d lead.

“Julianna,” Niall chuckled, rubbing his forehead. “What’s up.”

“I came to see if you wanted to play,” Julianna responded, finally meeting his eyes. She held a bag of cookies up. “They’re homemade.”

“Is that a bribe?” Niall asked, reaching down to pet Gordy who was excited to see Niall, tail wagging.

“It might be,” Julianna smiled.

“Alright,” Niall sighed, straightening up. “I need to brush my teeth. And coffee.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Gordy and I will be somewhere between land and sea. I’m sure you won’t miss us.”

“I’m sure,” Niall chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “And I thought I’d mention that I noticed you staring.”

“Well I wasn’t trying to hide it,” Julianna laughed, a sly smile on her lips. “Feelin the slow burn yet?”

“Not quite,” Niall chuckled. “But I bet if you take your shirt off I’ll feel it then.”

Julianna laughed, shaking her head. “In your dreams.”

Niall laughed, watching as they walked back down the steps. His dreams were between him and god and that’s how they’d stay. Or at least until Julianna cracked first.

Julianna and Gordy found a spot not far from the shore. She pulled her coat tight around her. Gordy was pacing around her, nose to the ground. Julianna pulled out her journal, objectively not writing about the way Niall just looked. She wasn’t. And if she was that was between her and god.

Only when Niall collapsed in the sand beside her, did Julianna close her journal. She looked up at the water, not quite sure if she was ready to look at him.

“What were you uh writing there?” Niall asked, fingertips brushing over the spine of her journal.

“Don’t worry about it,” Julianna smiled, finally looking over at him. He wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, shaking his head. He had on a pair of jeans cuffed at the ankle, and a grey sweater to match his tired eyes. Julianna couldn’t help but notice how much of a boyfriend he looked.

“It was about me,” Niall responded, surly, eyes drifting to the coast. “Go on. Keep checking me out. If it’ll help you write and speed us along ogle away.”

“I could wait forever,” Julianna shrugged, stuffing her journal into her bag. “In fact most crush’s last months. My longest one was 5 years and even then I didn’t even get the chance to kiss him. Nothing’s certain.”

“Right,” Niall murmured, looking over at her. His eyes trailed down her body. He hooked his finger in the ripped knee of her jeans. The brush of his fingertip against her knee sent a goosebumps down her legs. “How do these even keep you warm?”

“I have other ways to keep warm,” Julianna told him, eyes flicking up to meet his. “That you just need not worry about.”

Niall laughed, nodding his head. He took a sip of his coffee. Gordy meandered toward them, sitting down between the two them. He’d fit his bum where it didn’t belong, wedged between them.

“Gordy you’re kind of putting a damper on the mood, buddy,” Julianna said, looking over at him. He turned his head, licking her nose and then stretching out in the sand, a sigh escaping him.

“How long have you had him?” Niall asked, reaching to scratch at his head.

“About three years,” Julianna told him, nodding. “He showed up at my doorstep in London and I tried to get rid of him. Honest. I tried like hell but someone wanted Gordy and I to stay together.”

Niall chuckled, smoothing his hand down his back. “He’s very well trained.”

“Gordy and I have a connection,” Julianna explained. “I don’t know how he just knows what I’m saying. we have a mutual agreement that he’ll stay by my side all day long and I’ll feed him twice a day.“

“Sounds like the perfect girlfriend, to me,” Niall mused, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“That’s hilarious,” Julianna rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “The shit that comes out of your mouth. Honestly.”

Niall laughed, refusing not to acknowledge that comment. He took another sip of his coffee and let the salty air relax him.

The time between their drunken night together and now seemed so long ago. Granted, it was only three days but it felt like forever.

That night ended in Niall completely taking over the record player by plugging an aux cord into it and blasting his music. It was seventies and eighties junk that Julianna knew every single word to, taking Niall my surprise. Julianna got on the coffee table, singing Billy Joel’s Only the Good Die Young. She didn’t rest until Niall was with her, hands on her hips as she sang. Niall’s laugh in her ear, his heat against her was almost too much to handle.

Niall collapsed on her bed not long after, Julianna crawling in beside her. He murmured, ‘“I should go.” Julianna agreed, telling him that he should. But he rolled over, running his fingers through her hair, eyes gazing into hers. Julianna thought he’d kiss her. He did. On the cheek, leaving her wanting more. It was a moment. No one could argue that. Just thinking about that night lit a fire in Julianna.

When Niall’s coffee had gone cold and there were nothing but crumbs left in the baggie, Julianna stood up, brushing the sand off of her pants. “Alright Gordy, it’s time to play. Niall would you like to play with us?”

“Sure,” Niall chuckled, setting his cup down in the sand. He stood up, brushing the sand off of his pants.

“Gordy likes to chase you,” Julianna explained as they walked toward the coast. “And he’s a cheater. He’ll try to bite your pant legs to get you. There’s not way to stop it. He won’t rest until he has you pinned to the ground.”

Gordy followed behind them, tail already wagging. Julianna looked over her shoulder at him and laughed. “Those are the eyes of a dirty rotten scoundrel. But he always tackles me and it makes me unbearably angry.”

Julianna was absolutely right about that. He was a cheater and at one point he even had Niall on the ground, paws on his shoulders. He had Niall right where he wanted him, licking his face and there was nothing he could do about it.

Julianna called him off, whistling loudly. Gordy promptly jumped off a laugh Niall, running up to her with his tail wagging. Julianna laid down in the sand beside him, laughing along with him.

“Your dog is a nutter,” Niall muttered, effectively wiping his face on the sleeve of his sweater.

“I told ya,” Julianna laughed, reaching over to wipe the sand off of his cheek. “He wouldn’t dare do it to me now that you’re here. It would be showing a sign of weakness, of course. Mutual respect.”

“Right,” Niall mused, cheeks, a bit red. He’d chalk that up to all the running.

“He does my dirty work for me,” Julianna smiled.

“And how’s that?” He asked.

Julianna sighed, sitting up. She spared Niall one last glance over her shoulder before crawling on top of him, straddling his waist. She held his hands above his head by the wrists. It was a childish manor that had Niall thinking about the innocence of the gesture.

“It takes absolutely no effort on my part,” Julianna murmured, nose brushing against his. “And I got ya right where I want you.”

Niall breathed out a chuckle, staring into her eyes. “I know you’re not gonna kiss me.”

“Of course not,” Julianna murmured, sliding her hands from their hold on his wrists. She tangled their hands together, eyes shifting between his eyes. “That’d ruin the fun.”

Niall’s eyelids fluttered as she pressed a teasing kiss to his cheek. He had her. Julianna knew it too. Niall let out a sigh, looking up her unimpressed. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

Julianna hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “Don’t think you could handle me at my best.” She sat back on her haunches and stood up.

Niall breathed out a laugh, sitting up on his elbows. “That’s real mature.”

Julianna shrugged again, looking over her shoulder at him. She ran her fingers through her hair, looking around. “Though I do wonder why it is that you didn’t kiss me when you had the chance.”

Niall stood up, shaking his head. “The shit that comes out of your mouth.”

“It’s possible,” she began slowly, voice lower than usual. “The chase gets you. You’re enjoying every minute of this because I’m right.”

“Um consent?” Niall laughed, brushing the sand from the back of his head.

“Of course,” Julianna laughed, nodding. “Consent.”

“I respect you,” Niall explained, a convincing smile spreading across his face. “And your body. I’d never want to overstep my bounds.”

Julianna let out a belly laugh, shaking her head. Their shoulders brushed as she walked past him. “You’re a liar. I’m right. Just admit it and maybe I’ll give you a kiss.”

“If I admitted it, I’d be lying,” Niall laughed, arm reaching out to grab her wrist before she could walk too far.

“Then admit something else,” Julianna whispered, catching his eyes.

“I hate it when you’re so far away from me,” Niall whispered, pulling her so close their noses almost touched. “And you’re right. All the time. About everything. And it pisses me off that you’re so smart.”

Julianna breathed out a laugh, eyes falling to the sand. “Go on.”

“You know the root cause of everything. Why you feel what you feel and it-“ Niall cut off with a sigh. “It’s madness. I mean where did you even learn that?”

“Books,” Julianna shrugged. “You’ll get there if you stop looking at those dirty magazines under your bed.”

Niall laughed, shaking his head. “You snoop. Went through my things?”

“No,” Julianna laughed, pulling away from him completely. “Was just a haunch. Guess I was right.”

“Those were there when I moved in,” Niall explained, his voice on the verge of laughter. “And did I look at them? Maybe? Is that a crime?”

“Of course not,” Julianna laughed, patting him on the chest. “Anyways I’m starving. Would you like to have lunch with me? Grilled cheese and tomato soup?”

“There’s nothing I’d like more,” Niall smiled.

Julianna gathered her things and they walked back up to her house. Gordy went ahead of them, his feet in a happy trot. Julianna had to stop him at the front door to shake the sand from his fur. Gordy hated it when she did that, a low growl in his throat.

“He overdramatizes everything,” Julianna rolled her eyes, standing up.

“Reckon I wouldn’t like that either,” Niall chuckled. “Roughing him up like that.”

Julianna lurched her hand forward, ruffling his hair in the same way she’d done to Gordy. Niall laughed, pushing her away with two hands on her hips.

His hands on her hips, only made her grin, dropping her hand from his hair. She laughed, as his hands fell from her waist. “You need to calm down,” he said, laughing as they walked through the door.

“Says you,” she retorted, voice a bit louder than necessary. “You grabbed me.”

“I didn’t grab you,” Niall laughed, toeing his shoes off. “And if I did you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.”

“That’s doubtful,” she snorted, brushing past him to get to the kitchen.

Niall ignored her comment, sitting down at the table. “Coffee?”

Julianna hummed, nodding. “Good idea. I could use a little caffeine.”

“Why’s that?” Niall asked.

“I have a full day of writing ahead of me!” Julianna exclaimed, pulling her percolator out of the cupboard. She filled her kettle up, setting it on the stove. The oven clicked as she turned it on.

“Got some good material?” He asked.

“Oh yeah,” Julianna smiled.

“So I’ve been thinking when this book comes out I think I deserve some royalties,” Niall told her. Partly to get a reaction out of her.

“Oh you will,” Julianna promised, glancing over her shoulder at him. “They won’t be of cash value of course. Maybe a thank you letter. A nude. Something really special. Promise.”

“I’d like my royalties in advance,” Niall told her. “A nude. Preferably a Polaroid.”

Julianna laughed, pulling the bread off the fridge. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Disrupts the process.”

Niall rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. “God damn, Julianna. Is any part of the process fun for me?”

“Not really,” she laughed, looking over at him. “It’s long and tedious.”

“How can we speed this along?” He all but begged.

Julianna hummed, head tilting to the side. “How about I write and you make lunch?”

Niall narrowed his eyes at her, unconvinced. “Are you just trying to get me to do all the work?”

“It’s possible,” Julianna chuckled. “But also I think it’ll work.”

Niall sighed, standing up. “Fine.”

Julianna grinned at him before bending down to fish her journal out of her bag. She sat down at the table, immediately delving in with the rawest thoughts in her mind. Most times her best poems came from nonsense. She’d write down word vomit and somehow it turned into something coherent.

Julianna only paused, pen tucked behind her ear to grab the kettle off the stove to make the coffee. Niall has found his way around her kitchen better than she could have imagined.

While the grilled cheese cooked, Niall sipped his coffee, watching her scribble in her notebook. Niall envied her concentration. Her commitment. It made him feel a bit of regret for calling it quits on everything. He wished he could get to that spot again where he could just spill every thought he had.

By the time lunch was done, Julianna had exhausted herself. The momentum she created fell short which happened more often than not.

“Anything good?” Niall asked, setting a plate down in front of her.

Julianna shrugged, “don’t think so. We’ll see though.”

Niall hummed, handing her a bowl of soup and a spoon. He sat down across from her with his own food. “Do you ever want to leave?”

“Sometimes,” she nodded. “The first few weeks were hard. And lonely. That’s when I wrote the best. Now I’m really used to it. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

“How long did you plan on staying?” He asked.

Julianna shrugged again, “not sure. I wanted to just get most of the book. My publisher is getting antsy. My deadline is coming up in a few months.”

“Really?” He asked. “So soon?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Feels like my first book just came out. It was crazy fast because they wanted to keep the momentum going. Unfortunately I am sluggish and lazy and clearly, I value processes.”

Niall chuckled, nodding. “Clearly. Is the book almost finished or do you have a lot left?”

“I mean...” Julianna trailed off shrugging. “I have enough for a book. They’re good poems. I’m just beginning to wonder if it’s the direction I want to go.”

In other words, was Niall consuming her? Was her infatuation with him getting to her head? Clouding her judgment? All of the above.

“I get that,” Niall nodded. “It’s hard sitting with pieces for so long. By the time it comes out you’re absolutely sick of them.”

“Exactly,” Julianna agreed. “We’ll see though. My publisher comes around every two weeks to make sure I’m still alive. She reads some of my stuff and gives me positive feedback.”

“That’s good,” Niall commented. “Why haven’t I met her?”

“Because she disproves of us,” Julianna told him with a shrug. “Says I’m a fool for getting involved with the likes of you. And I’ll get my heart broken publicly.”

Niall let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Does everyone think that about me? I’m just some headline hungry dickhead?”

“No...” Julianna trailed off slowly. “Not everyone. I don’t. Obviously or I wouldn’t have asked you to come out and play.”

“But you think I’m going to break your heart?” Niall asked, almost accusing. “Is that why you keep me at a distance? This whole process thing is made up just something-“

“Would you relax?” Julianna cut him off with a chuckle. “What do you need? Validation? I’m not fucking with you. Everything I’ve told you is true. My publisher looks out for my career first and foremost. I don’t follow her blindly. We don’t even listen to each other half the time.”

“I just-“ Niall cut off with a groan. “I hate that no matter who I am there’s always some story that will precede that. It’s like it cancels out. No matter how good of a person I am it never counts. For anything.”

“That’s absolutely not true,” Julianna shook her head. “It doesn’t cancel out. The people around you matter. What the people around you see in you matters.”

“The people around me?” Niall exclaimed, voice wavering. “I don’t have anyone. Absolutely no one.”

“You have me,” Julianna offered weakly. “I know that doesn’t seem like a lot but I promise you the man in my poems? He’s incredible.”

Niall let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “Julianna-“

“I’m serious,” Julianna urged. “And I know it’s hard to believe that after years of tabloid abuse but it’s true. I wouldn’t waste my time on just anyone.”

“Waste your time?” He scoffed, halfheartedly. “That’s what this is?”

Julianna laughed, nodding. “Yeah. I’d say we’re wasting time. What else do you call rolling around in the sand for two hours and then taking the longest lunch break ever?”

“Wasting time,” Niall agreed. He scratched at his jaw, sighing. “Sorry I just freaked out.”

“Oh don’t be,” she waved him off. “My walls don’t judge. Honest. They’ve seen me ugly cry. And heard me yell expletives.”

“Well they’re quite lucky, I’d say,” Niall murmured in that soft voice that sent Julianna into a spiral. The soft voice she could write a dozen poems about but it would never do it justice.

“You’ll make me blush,” Julianna responded, head tilting to the side.

“Well as your crush I’d say that’s my responsibility, innit?” Niall asked.

“I’d say so,” Julianna laughed. “Go on tell me all the things you love about me.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder in a pompous way. “It’s great for my ego and my writing.”

Niall laughed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry that is way above my pay grade.”

part 3!! let me know what you thought!! or if you want to tell me your crush or want to talk or literally ANYTHING

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#Never Enough Au #niall horan fanfic #Niall Horan #fanfic #fluff #thats all it is #Niall #fic

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