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elvisabutler · 9 months

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it ain't stealin' if ya sharin'

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley | austin butler rating: m pairing: dacre! steve binder x gender neutral reader x austin! elvis presley. steve binder x gender neutral reader. a tiny bit of steve binder x elvis presley word count: 2940 warnings: infidelity on elvis's part. p in v sex ( unprotected ). voyeurism mentioned. switch elvis. switch everyone tbh. spitroasting. lube is mentioned. minor praise kink maybe. choking with ascots. mild cock drunkenness. use of the nickname stevie. use of the nicknames babe and darlin' in place of y/n. no use of y/n. author’s note: welcome to day 8 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, threesome with steve binder x reader x elvis presley. this is a continuation of ride it, my pony you don't have to read it for this to make sense but it helps. and if you want to think of it this way, the day one fic with the cuckolding and this are two branches of the same tree. this is done specifically for @blurredcolour because she asked and i am a good friend. i know it says austin elvis and all that jazz but it's because she asked for that specifically but y'all know my drill. imagine who you'd like.

"You want to do what?" You ask, your eyebrows practically attaching themselves to your hairline. "Because I don't think I heard you right."

For what it's worth, Steve has the decency to look chagrined, has the decency to look away and act as if he briefly has no idea what both him and Elvis have suggested to you before realizing that you of all the people see right through him. He opens his mouth to speak before Elvis intervenes.

"I think ya heard us just fine. Jus' think ya don't think we're bein' serious. Think I'm jus' pullin' ya leg, don't ya?"

Steve watches several emotions flutter over your face and find that's perhaps he should step in. There's an undercurrent of aggravation he recognizes too well and it worries him. You're his partner, the love of his life if he's being honest and the last thing he wants to do is to put you in a spot where you feel you're being mocked or played with in any sort of way.

"What EP is trying to say is that— it might be beneficial for all of us to just once have sex together." Steve's words are a little stilted and you can't help but smile with a bit of fondness. Normally he has no problem talking about sex, especially with you and yet in trying to broach this topic in a way that has far more tact than Elvis is choosing to employ he has managed to somewhat trip himself up with his own words. "We'd be focusing more on you, I think, but we've— EP's—"

"I've been wanting to see what's so special 'bout ya that you got Steve here wrapped around ya finger." Elvis explains with that smile of his that charms even the most callous of people and you are not a callous person. No, you— much like your boyfriend can respect and admire just how attractive Elvis is from his personality to those eyes that pin you in place and that body that can do the same exact thing. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you watch as his eyes follow your tongue.

"And if I told you there's nothing special but an enjoyment of playing with ascots?" The words are teasing but Steve smirks just a little knowing exactly where you're going with this. It's funny, you always have been good at reading people.

Elvis's pupils expand just a bit and you hear a hitch in his breathing that makes you almost want to laugh. Instead you share a look with Steve that looks downright sinister. Steve remembers a day or two ago where you were grinding on his thigh, practically choking him with his ascot and how he had joked about you needing to choke Elvis and perhaps it had been a bit of a prediction, not that he knew it at the time.

"Playing with, that's not quite what they do, E. They can hold it so tight when you're in them. Practically choke you if you want." Steve looks at you before eyeing Elvis up and down. "You heard the joke I made, didn't you? We've been hearing you and watching you perform for the past few days. Maybe you'd—"

"Steve." Both you and Elvis practically groan out his name partially in warning but partially to allow the image he's starting to paint to sit inside both of your minds. You can see it clear as day. Elvis panting and grunting as he chases pleasure you're bringing him with Steve. Elvis cooing sweet nothings or muttering pure filth in your ear as he has you reaching heights you never have before. Between your legs you feel your most intimate parts pulsating. Your arousal starts to form and curl in your lower abdomen and you can't help but stare at Elvis as it does.

"You really want this, don't you?" You try and tease even if it's undercut by how your own voice wavers just that little bit. "You want us to let you have the pleasure of being a part of what we do? Make it so you're not jerking off to me in the dark corner of a room?"

Elvis's face flushes and you finally let out a laugh before Steve comes to stand next to you. "I told you that they'd be fine with it, Elvis. Even if I didn't know how to explain it."

"Because you're a possessive man. You're worried they're gonna leave ya if I show 'em a good time. Ain't that right?" Elvis turns to look at you. "You said it yourself, ya like me more."

It's then that your hand moves out to grasp the ascot tied around Elvis's neck, fingering the red silk before yanking it forward, watching as Elvis sputters and coughs from the sudden shift in his oxygen intake. "Not what I said. But he is pretty possessive. He's not the only one. Maybe I won't want to give you up. Ask Priscilla for visiting rights with me and Steve."

Both you and Steve watch as Elvis's Adam's apple bobs as he swallowed thickly, words failing him until he manages something quiet. "Don't need her permission."

Steve and you share a look before holding out a hand for Elvis from each of you. Steve manages to speak first. "You've been doing good enough while filming. Let's enjoy the treat we want to give you. The one I want you to give them. Make up for how long I've been working day in and day out."

The thing is, you know better than to do something like this at Steve's work. It's tempting, to be sure, and there's a couch that could fit the three of you with a surprising amount of ease but for situations like this and for discretion a bed is what's truly needed. It's easy enough for Elvis to say something about late filming and it's easy enough for you and Steve to for once in this whole thing to be home together at a sensible time. All those things are easy enough and yet somehow seeing Elvis at the door to your house puts things into a strange surreal perspective. That perspective is only heightened the moment the door to your house shuts and Elvis pulls you into a kiss that threatens to take your very soul from your body. It's all consuming, plush lips that press against yours and a tongue that finds its way in between your lips, deepening the kiss with a ease you have to marvel at in the moment. Your teeth dig into his lower lip, a warning and a promise of more to come that has him pressing you against the wall and has his hand fiddling with the button on your jeans.

Your hands move on top of his, taking in how tense they are, how determined he is to get both of you naked to some degree and you smile against his lips even as you pull away. "Not in the hallway. Steve's already in bed. Come on."

Elvis doesn't waste a minute following you, his hands gravitating to your hips and pressing his arousal against your ass. You can't help but grind backwards even as you walk, earning a groan from Elvis. His lips move to nip and bite at your neck, murmuring against your skin. "Goddammit. Should've known you'd be doing that even if you weren't in my lap. You do this to Stevie? Tease him like this before you get into bed?"

A low hum is the only answer you give even as Elvis's hand moves to undo your buttons and finally manages to get his hand between your legs, cupping the part of you that wants him and your boyfriend so badly it threatens to overwhelm you. You hear him practically growling against your ear as you finally reach your bedroom. "That's all for me? Figured ya were needy from how ya were on his thigh but— darlin' this is somethin' else."

Steve manages to look over at the two of you, naked except for his underwear and his ascot— your specific request— at that exact time. His eyes take in the picture you and Elvis paint. The picture of Elvis coming undone just from touching between your legs, panting behind you and practically dry humping you. The picture of your jeans partially undone with Elvis cupping between your legs, touching what Steve had told him was only his. He's not worried about Elvis stealing you because can you steal something if you're sharing it? His pupils dilate, taking over the entirety of his iris as he moves over to you. Elvis looks over at Steve and waits for the other man to make a move before he shrugs and pulls him into a small kiss that you can watch. A whimper leaves your lips as you buck against Elvis's hand. When they pull apart, their eyes flit to you and how your hips move of their own violation. Steve speaks first, teasing in a way only he can.

"Thought we were supposed to make him beg, babe? You just want to have both of us focusing on you, don't you? You've been so patient with me. Been so patient with how hard he's been working for me and with me. You deserve this."

Your mouth opens to speak only to be cut off with another kiss from Elvis and his hand starting to pull away from between your legs. "This is just all of us sharin', ain't it? Now get on the bed, baby. We're gonna take care of ya so fuckin' well."

A noise that sounds like a whimper leaves your lips and you hear both Elvis and Steve chuckle as Elvis's hands move to your hips to pull down your pants and Steve's hands busy themselves with the buttons of your shirt. It's a marvel none of you trip over the other's feet and a marvel you don't have your eyes roll into the back of your head as you hear praise from both of them about how you're so patient and good and you can be needy right now. They've got you.

Your bed feels different in this moment, with the weight of three people instead of two on it and you inadvertently cant your hips up in the air because it. Elvis's hands on your hips tighten in an effort to get you to stay still only for you to arch more, whining as you do.

"Don't— Don't tease. Want— Don't want to wait." The words tumble out of your mouth as you feel Steve sucking and nipping at your pulse point, his hands moving across your chest and your whole torso. "Need—"

Steve shushes you with a finger to your lips, "we can see, babe. We can see how much you need us. We've got you. Elvis's got the lube, babe. Gonna make it easy to slide in."

You hear the words Steve speaks but don't quite realize until you feel your underwear finally being pulled off entirely with Elvis's hands running ever so slowly down your hips and thighs only to move right back up them. Your legs fall open, giving him the view of your most intimate parts that only Steve gets to see and you feel Elvis shift and rut against the bed for a moment before he takes his cock in hand, pulling his foreskin back. It's as if your eyes are glued to his cock, even as Steve gives attention to every other part of you, his lips covering your neck in kisses, biting your lips red. One of your hands moves to pull down Steve's underwear and moves up and down his cock, marveling in how much precum is already there. It lets your hand glide across the skin of his cock and you almost wish you could taste it right now. A bit of drool escapes your lips at the idea and Elvis notices.

"Steve. Stevie. Think— I think they wanna be in the middle all proper. Cock at the top and the bottom." As if to punctuate the point one of his hands moves to cup your cheek and his thumb brushes against your lips, a smirk forming on his face. "Ain't that right, yittle."

A choked off groan leaves your lips as your tongue chases after his thumb and the word yittle bounces around your head. You're not that much younger than Steve and yet Elvis calling you that sends a rush through your body and has you trying to move to do just that. Only both Steve and Elvis's hands stop you. You start to argue and beg and plead only to have Steve move to sit on the bed properly so that you can do what you want. So you can have his cock in your mouth, so you can have the taste of his cum roll down your throat as Elvis thrusts into you. Steve's hand moves to stroke your cheek as he looks down at you with the sort of love that makes your heart threaten to burst inside you. That look is why you're willing to do this, why you're willing to share yourself and him with Elvis. This man loves you and he'd do anything for you and he wouldn't do this if he didn't want to or if you didn't.

He doesn't speak but he does mouth love you as he pushes his cock in between your open lips and lets out a groan of pleasure at how your lips tighten around him. Elvis doesn't enter you immediately afterward, choosing to play with himself just a bit as he watches Steve's cock slide in between your lips, stretching them around it. Maybe if the three of you ever did anything like this again he could— he could have those lips around his, your tongue playing with his foreskin just a little. The image of you doing that playing in his head spurs him into action finally, making sure he's got enough lubrication for you to be able to enjoy this. Making sure you can take his cock inside you. He starts off slow, his cock entering you bit by bit, savoring the way your body shakes and savoring the noises he hears you making around Steve's cock. The other man can't hold back his own noises as he puts his hand on the back of your head, trying to push you down more, wanting more of your mouth. It takes a moment to find a rhythm once he's fully seated inside you but after a bit, it happens. Elvis thrusts into you, cursing at how tight you feel around his cock, telling you he understands now, understands the spell you've got Steve under.

"The hell ya spendin' so much time wit' me when ya got this at home, Binder? Fuckin' Christ, yittle. Gonna— I ain't gonna last. Fuckin'— Gonna make me cum like 'm a fuckin' teenager." Elvis slurs out the words, his accent thickening the more he thrusts into you, his fingers gripping your hips with a strength you knew he had but is invigorating to be on the receiving end of. As you push back against him he lets out a soft laugh and one of his hands move between your legs, touching where you need to be touched so that you can cum just the same as the two of them. "That's it, I gotcha. Steve's a little busy, but I got ya. Cum for us, make a mess that we gotta clean up."

That coil inside you, the one sitting low in your abdomen that's so wound up you could scream finally feels like it's starting to snap. You don't want to cum first though, you want Steve to cum down your throat before you do. Thankfully you know how to do that, know how to get him to do it and though it makes you a little unbalanced you move to grab at his ascot and yank it ever so softly but it's enough have Steve breathlessly cursing as you feel his cum fill your throat. A litany of praise and declarations of love leaves his mouth as you start to swallow only slightly choking. Your own orgasm hits you with a certain movement of Elvis's hand and despite your best efforts you can feel Steve's cum slide out of your mouth, dribbling ever so slightly. Elvis's thrusts are getting rougher and less controlled and you want to pull your mouth off of Steve to say something only to feel Steve yank Elvis forward by his ascot in for another kiss and a murmured request.

"Let yourself go, E."

As if it was an order you feel Elvis cum inside you and hear the muttered curse as he does. He hadn't meant to but as he pulls out and sees it dripping from you, he can't complain. The three of you are breathless and silent in the afterglow as you all flop onto the bed, arms and legs tangled just so in a way that feels oddly right. After a moment you finally speak.

"If that's what I get for letting Steve work with you till all hours. You— you can work all night and all day," you whisper, looking a little shell-shocked as you pull on Elvis's ascot to get a kiss. "Can— can we do that again? Reversed?"

Steve and Elvis share a look over your head before shrugging. "Better than filming all night. And I think we need to properly share."

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @amydarcimarie, @justrae9903, @thegettingbyp2, @stylespresleyhearted i know i am missing people but i am unsure whom at this point.

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the-ravenist · 2 months

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That's my wife

Steve Binder x Fem!Black!Reader

Reader and Steve are married, they share both of their last names, reader is somewhat tall, reader is a boss ass bitch, reader is implied/mentioned to be infertile, reader is female(sorry), Steve is a simp for reader, suggestive dialogue(no smut), reader wears pants, reader and Steve match accessories, and protective!Steve(I think)

The smell of cigarette smoke fills the sound room, multiple eyes focusing on Elvis on the stage below, the young man's voice blasting through the speakers. The abrupt sound of the door slamming gains the attention of people in the room, yet a pair of blue eyes stay focused on the act below. Those pairs of blue eyes belong to the amazing Steve Binder-(L/N), a great man, producer, friend, partner, and husband, yes husband.

Steve had the opportunity to work with the infamous Elvis the Pelvis Presley, to produce his Comeback film. At first, he was hesitant to accept the offer, but he could see that Elvis's career wasn't doing...well. But Bones had convinced him, there could be a possibility that old Elvis might come back.

Steve can feel a headache beginning to form, a dull pounding at the back of his head and the slight twitch in his left eyebrow gave it away. If the Conole didn't shut his yapper soon, Steve was gut him like the fat fish he was.

"Kennedys' been shot!"

That definitely broke him from his thought. The backtrack of Elvis's song continued playing through the pen-drop silence throughout the studio.

Dancers, makeup artists, hairdressers, singers, and others alike were piled in the small dressing room, the dialogue of the news lady sounding like white noise besides a couple words Kennedy, shot, and dead stick in the brains of the listeners. The decrease in volume catches the attention of the grieving, Steve stands in front of the TV eyes slightly red and glistening with tears.

"Listen I, uh, I just want to say that," a sad chuckle breaks through his lips. "This nation is hurting, it's lost you know."

A couple of nods and sniffles ring throughout the group.

"It needs a vioce right now, to help heal it," he nods towards Elvis. "You, you have to a statement EP," said man's eyes lighting up.

"Mr. Presely doesn't makes statements." Eyes snap to the colonel.

"He sings here comes Santa Claus", he walks towards Steve menacingly. "And wishes everyone merry Christmas and good night", he continues with a sharp glare on his face.

A beat of somber silence passes by, anger and frustration build up in Steve and Elvis. Steve knows that the Colonel could care less about the president's death and Elvis, he was The Snowman, after all, he was cold in all ways.

"This tragedy, a tragedy yes," fake sympathy is plastered on his face. "But it has nothing to do with us."

At that Steve had calmly stormed out of the room, Bones and Jerry following. Everyone else had walked out of the room slowly after, all going their separate ways to dressing rooms mostly or back to the stage. Steve had walked, well stomped into the sound booth, lighter lighting the cigarette in his hand.

He takes a deep inhale of the toxic smoke, holding it for a beat. He knew that he had a show to run he knew it but during this time, nobody was really in the best mental state to work. As he exhaled the smoke the phone on the best corner rang, he let it ring for two more rings before his shaky hands picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweets, you okay?"

At the sound of your voice, his body instantly slacked. He was glad you called, but that's not what he's worried about at the moment.

"I'm fine puff," he had called you that due to your afro, rather than a halo of curls on top of your head reminds him of a puff of smoke. I know weird comparison.

"'M just a little tired, how about you?"

" 'M not gonna lie to ya sweets," your voice shakes a little. "I'm a lil shakin' up."

Steve puts out his cigarette as he exhales the last bit of smoke. He can feel the dull pounding get a bit louder, now trust me dear reader it's not because of you I promise.

"Yeah, this...event has everyone shakin' up," a small sigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if the damn whole country stopped functioning." A small laugh was heard through the speaker.

"Honestly, I'd believe it," A huff escaped your lips. "Damn near got into a fuckin' car accident when I heard it."

"What?"

"It's nothing though, I'm fine the cars fine," you murmur softly. "And so is my fro." Steve couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

The line is silent for a moment, it's somewhat comforting in a way. "Even though neither of you is facing the other in the comfort of your shared bed, it seems as if you were standing next to one another.

"Hey, puff?"

"...yeah?"

"How do you feel about getting creative again?"

"I'm on my way."

Elvis, Bones, and Jerry are watching Steve pace in the small room. Elvis laying on the floor by the piano, Jerry lounging on the black couch on the wall, and Bones leaning on the crisp black piano watching his friend stress out.

"What's he stressin' about," questions Elvis.

"I don't know E," Jerry says eyes narrowing on the nervous man.

"He's nervous about his dames," Bones speaks up from his spot.

"Wait his girl," Elvis questions. "Why is she comin'?"

"I guess-"

Steven turns around quickly startling the men in the room. He seems calm, yet his eyes give him away; they're wider than normal.

"I'm sorry boys," a hand runs through his hair. "This might seem completely out of character of myself," and was it ever.

"Yeah, we can tell," Jerry mutters. "Why does your girl make you nervous?"

"Huh?"

"Bones had said that your girl was coming," Elvis had said from his spot on the floor.

"And we want to know why you're actin' a nervous mess," Bones continued.

"Well if I'm being honest boys," Steve reluctantly starts. "I'm worried how she would think of y'all, minus Bones."

Well, it's not like you were a judgmental person or anything like that. It's just that you're kind of intimidating in a way.

"What," Elvis says through a small laugh. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Now listen EP," Steve's is laced with seriousness. "This woman is very important to me, she's the best out there for this operation."

"So please behave," he slightly begs.

"But still be yourself, and don't say anything stupid," Bone adds.

"Don't worry my mama taught me better than to disrespect a woman," Elvis says as he sits in a crisscross position.

"Good, 'cause she'll," he takes a glance at his watch. "She'll be here any minute now."

Just as he says that the door is pushed open, with a dark brown heeled boot. And those boots are paired with brown high-waisted pants, a white turtle neck, and a pearl necklace.

"Sorry that I'm late, sweets," the woman closed the door with her heel.

"I had to speed back home to get the stuff that I thought we could use, but then I realized that I had no fuckin' scissors," she dropped the bags full of supplies on the couch next to Jerry.

"So, I had to drive to the store to get scissors, and I realized that we'd might be here a while so I bought myself a silk scarf cause why the hell not, and-"

Steve grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you a bit, to stop her rambling. She had stopped talking as she looked at Steve with wide (e/c) eyes.

"Puff, I'm glad you're here but we have company," his eyes dart to the people behind her.

"Shit," she looked at the men behind her. "Right, my bad y'all." She coughs to clear her throat. "Hello, my name is (Y/N) (L/N)-Binder, and I'll be helping y'all 'cause y'all desperately need it."

"Now excus-"

"And you, white and sideburns," you point to the boy on the floor. "You must be the big Elvis the Pelvis Presly," the boy smirks a bit. "Now I'm not a big fan of yours but I have to admit you have some hip swingn' songs." The woman demonstrates as she moves her hips a bit.

"Well thank you," Elvis trails off, not sure if what the woman had said was a compliment or not.

"It's no problem," she dismisses, she puts her attention on the entire group.

"Now what have we gotten so far hmm?"

Silence

"Have y'all at least started on a song?"

"I mean," Jerry bravely speaks up. "We sort of do," (Y/N)'s sharp (e/c) eyes are basically pinning him to the couch.

"All right let's hear it."

And then the construction begins.

"Alright, the song is done," she sighs in exhaust. " And let me tell you, y'all are by far the hardest people I've worked with."

Jerry and Elvis gawk at the confidence of the women in front of them.

"Now E," the switch from sarcasm to seriousness throws off the boys. "It's quiet obvious to anyone with an IQ of a basic human being, that your career has been nothing but a pile of flaming shit lately."

Steve chokes on a bit on the smoke of his cigarette.

"But with this song and a killer outfit by my design," you can see a child-like excitement spark in Elvis's blue eyes. "You'll bounce back in no time."

"Now," you snap loudly. "How does everyone feel about leather?"

"Good night boys, I'll see your show tomorrow m'kay," you say as you watch the guys leave. Leaving you and Steve in the small room.

You plop your body down on the dark green couch, body slacking once it hits the cushion. A sigh leaves your mouth and your eyes begin to close.

"God, I'm getting old. I've never been that tired in a hot minute," you mutter as you grab your head scarf from your purse.

Steve nonchalantly kneels before you, hands reaching for your boots.

"You're not getting old, you need to stop saying that," he mutters as he unzips your left boot and gently slides it off your foot, hands moving to unzip the right one.

"Oh right, I'm not getting old. I'm aging," your speech is sarcastic. Yet Steve ignores it and places your boots next to the piano.

Steve plops himself on the couch next to you as you wrap your hair with the scarf. The scarf in which looks similar to the ascot that you're husband is wearing around his neck. Once finished you wrap your leg around his waist and your arms around his neck. As if automatically, he wraps an arm around your waist and slides a hand into your back pocket.

"You know what else ages," Steve croons teasingly as he locks eyes with you. You hummed in a curious tone.

"Wine, wine ages," he leans his head forward, lips grazing yours.

"'nd you my darling puff, are some very fine wine~" His lips finally touched yours. Once your lips touch you fight back a smile as his comment registers.

"Oh, Mr. Binder you are the devil in disguise I swear," you're able to say through the onslaught of kisses you're receiving.

"If I'm the devil, you're my angel in disguise," he purrs as he continues his trek of kisses to your neck.

"Okay, now you ruined the mood," you snort as you push his head back slightly.

"Aw whaddya mean," he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"... he's so young sweets, too young."

"I know."

"He looks like a young man but has the eyes of a man who works at an office 9-5. Tired, stressed, yet yearning."

You begin to play with Steve's fingers as you begin to ramble.

"He misses his mama Stevie, he stuck to me like glue. Kept looking at me, as if he was looking for affirmation. Like a child would."

"God Stevie, why do I want someone to look at me like that again?"

Your eyes begin to water as you subconsciously rub your stomach.

Steve frowned at your sadness, he knew you wanted kids. The both of you did. The thought of having a little bundle of y'all's creation running around the house made him smile. Of course y'all have tried but when you went to a doctor the worse news has erased that dream. As an interracial couple adopting a child was harder than it looked, so in the end it was replaced with two fur babies you have at home.

Oh, Harley and June, two energy filled great danes. They're probably sleeping in your shared bed, drooling all over the sheets. The thought of them brings a small to your face.

You look at Steve's blue eyes. Oh, how you love those blue eyes. You cup his cheek, he leans into it, it makes you snort. You peck his lips, once, twice.

"Let's go home Stevie," you hop off his lap. You bend over to grab your boots and bags. Steve of course can't help but take a glance at your ass. Those pants accentuated everything. You pop right back up and turn to Steve, who still sits on the couch looking up at you. "I have to go home and sew a leather suit for a 6'2 man."

Your husband groans as he reluctantly gets up from the couch, standing in front of you.

"Do you ever rest?" His hands grip your hips as he sways them a bit.

"Yes, but only during a full moon," you tease with a smile.

"That tracks," you let out a squeak of a shock. He turns you around and carries you bridal style.

"I'll have you know that I'm working because I want to," your arms automatically curl around his neck. Steve takes the bags from your hands and puts them as far up on his arms as possible.

"Mhmm, puff y'know Harley and June don't need set after set of pajamas, he remarks as you begin to walk out of the office.

"But they're cute~."

#steve binder x reader #black!reader #black reader #steve binder x black!reader #x reader #x black!reader #x black reader #x black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #black writer #darce montgomery #darce montgomery x reader

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starboybutler · 1 year

Text

Cotton Candy Land (Ch.1)

summary: on top of elvis’s already-packed performance schedule, he had been receiving all kinds of violent threats. it had started when they were out of town, in houston, but they seemed to follow him. the first threat had been harmless enough– a shoddy note with chicken-scratch writing that said “i am going to kill you”, but now they were becoming physical– and taking a toll on elvis.

word count: 3496

warnings: age regression, crying, death threats, panic attacks, tantrums

notes: hi! this is my third attempt at a multi-chapter fic, and i hope that it goes well! elvis's age regression has always been a fascinating topic to me, so i wanted to write a fanfiction based on it and how it affected him. i'm including jerry and steve because i like them. we may get smut in the future, as well as some fluff/crushes, but who knows! i'm just really excited to get this first chapter up. shoutout to bee (dontbeecruel) for beta reading!

enjoy!

dim moonlight shone through the thin, white curtains of the work suite, illuminating the room in a pale aura. a heavy, dense silence hung in the air as binder and schilling stood on opposite sides of their paperwork-littered desk, their expressions exasperated.

tonight had been stressful.

on top of elvis’s already-packed performance schedule, he had been receiving all kinds of violent threats. it had started when they were out of town, in houston, but they seemed to follow him. the first threat had been harmless enough– a shoddy note with chicken-scratch writing that said “i am going to kill you”, but now they were becoming physical– and taking a toll on elvis.

in the middle of his performance tonight, two men from the front row hopped up onstage and rushed towards elvis, and things went south. colonel rushed from his seat in the crowd, while jerry, red, and elvis attempted to draw their guns.

the men were quickly subdued, and elvis was dragged off the stage, yelling and screaming that he would kill whoever just charged him. he was furious. the colonel met up with him backstage, and it was suggested to him that the show be stopped due to safety concerns– but elvis insisted he continue. he refused to be pushed off of the stage.

binder pressed his fingers under his aviators, rubbed at the bridge of his nose, and squeezed his eyes shut. he was developing quite the migraine trying to figure out how to deal with all of this. he thought he had security all under control– but knowing the colonel, he had probably done something dumb behind his back to compromise that.

schilling was just as stressed. serving as elvis’s bodyguard, close friend, and public relations– he had a whole myriad of issues to worry about– but the most daunting was the press. he knew those newspaper writers would be on him as soon as they could, asking for any behind the scenes details of the attacks. then there was the problem of elvis’s mental state. even though he insisted he was fine, both binder and schilling knew that the man was growing more and more paranoid with each passing hour. he had barely slept since the first threat. there’s no way he would just shake off this much more jarring one.

“we should…” jerry started, hesitantly. “we should find ep. talk to him. check up on him.”

binder let his sunglasses fall back into place on the bridge of his nose, sighing as he ran a hand through his brunette locks. “will he even let us in his room?” he asks, affixing his wary eyes on schilling. “he's been pretty shaken up lately. he’s not letting anyone in. not even vernon.”

“i know.” jerry sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i mean, he might let me in, but…”

“over his own father?”

“hey man, vernon and e have a bit of a… rocky relationship.” jerry says, shrugging. “i’m just saying, i might have better chances to be let in.”

binder fell silent, pursing his lips in thought. “it's worth a shot,” he admits, before sighing. “christ– we should really get to all this paperwork though.”

“later.” schilling mutters. “i’m worried about elvis.”

binder gave a curt nod, and followed after the taller man as he stepped out from their workspace. truth be told, he was worried about elvis too– terribly worried– but he just didn't need another earful from the colonel about his ‘hippie work ethic’, and how he was always falling behind on important matters.

sometimes it was maddening how much the colonel was on him. he wanted to walk away at times, but he reminded himself that he took this job for elvis. the colonel was annoying to deal with, of course, but binder needed to stick around to make elvis's job a little more bearable. binder always fought that old toad tooth and nail for ep to have more creative freedoms, but the colonel just had this aura to him. it's like he knew how to twist your words and thoughts just perfectly enough to make you reword yourself until you agreed with him. most of the time, steve opted for pointedly ignoring the man, but sometimes he couldn't help but snap back at him.

jerry was much more skilled at dealing with the colonel. mainly because– for some odd reason– he got along with him. schilling was just that type of guy. he got along with everyone, no matter how unlikeable the other person seemed. maybe it was his good looks, or his southern charm– but whatever it was, the colonel took a liking to him. jerry didn't necessarily see parker as a friend, but he didn't see him as an enemy either. when binder asked about it, schilling said that him and the colonel were a “strictly business” arrangement, and that they just happened to agree in those terms.

hell, maybe jerry should take his job. they’d be a lot more productive without parker poking his nose into everything binder did, and then purposely doing something to render his plans useless.

the two men stepped into the elevator, pressing the button that would take them directly up to elvis’s private room. it wasn't that far of a ride, as the work suite was in pretty close quarters with elvis– in case he needed to speak to binder or schilling about anything. it felt like forever, though– thanks to the tense situation at hand. usually when they visited elvis, it was under a much more light-hearted guise– like for a game of cards, or to see if they could sneak out on the town without getting recognized.

but nothing like this had ever occurred before. who knows how elvis would be feeling? he was so hard to predict sometimes– you’d think he'd be feeling one way after a certain event, only to find him feeling the complete and exact opposite.

the elevator halted, the doors slowly opened and let them onto their desired floor. it was quiet– almost eerily so– as they approached the large, intricately decorated double doors, steeling themselves with a deep breath.

schilling knocked tentatively, holding his breath as he waited for a response.

nothing.

he didn't seem phased. he just knocked again, a bit firmer this time, and spoke loudly enough so whoever was inside could hear.

“ep? it's…it’s jerry ‘n steve,” he said softly, biting his lip. “we uh– wanted to check on ya.”

silence.

binder was starting to get worried at this point– and it's obvious that schilling was as well. the way his brows furrowed together tightly told steve everything he needed to know.

“try the doorknob.” binder said, nodding towards one of the shiny, golden knobs. schilling hummed and tentatively gripped one of them, attempting to turn it and stiffening when it obliged, allowing one of the large doors to open.

steve swallowed heavily. elvis’s doors were almost never unlocked.

he looked over to see jerry borderline panicking. his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be frozen on the spot as he stared into the darkness of the room before him. binder placed a hand on his shoulder lowering his voice a fraction.

“hey– don't panic,” he muttered, giving the younger man’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “we haven't gone in yet. don't assume the worst.”

“okay.” schilling gulped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steel himself. “okay. yeah.”

they walked into the room slowly. it was cold and dark– almost pitch black, save for a small bit of moonlight peeking through a crack in the curtains. steve stumbled over his feet a few times, but jerry seemed to know the room like the back of his hand. he swiftly made his way over to the right-hand side of the room, calling out anxiously.

“elvis? it's us, man!”

there was still no response, but binder became aware of a soft, barely-present noise coming from the bed tucked away in the corner. he strained to listen out, trying to figure out what the source of the noise was, only to get thrown off by schilling yelling out again, panicked.

“elvis–!”

“shh!” binder hushed, making jerry's head whip around to face him, half-curious, half-pissed. before he could snap at steve for shushing him in a moment of panic, he seemingly heard the noise as well.

steve held a hand out, blindly feeling for the edge of the mattress. he sat himself down, leaning forward until the noise grew into a more distinctive sound.

someone was crying.

“elvis…?” steve murmured, blinking in attempt to adjust to the dark of the room. “is that you?”

only then, he spotted a lump under the blankets of the bed, quivering and jumping with each harsh noise that left it. instinctively, steve reached out and pulled the blankets away, revealing a red-faced, trembling, crying elvis.

he was curled up into a ball, sniffling gently into the synthetic fur of a small plush bear that was clutched to his chest. his tears glittered in the faint light, illuminating his flushed cheeks– the small bit of his face that they could actually somewhat see.

he looked so small, like a little boy.

“g’way,” elvis sniffled, trying to hide his face behind the now soaked stuffed animal. “leave me ‘lone.”

no one spoke for a brief moment– just out of pure shock. out of all the possible things they could have discovered, this wasn't even a possibility for them– but here they were.

in reality, maybe they should have seen a sort of breakdown coming. the death threats weren't the only thing bothering elvis. the cancellation of his overseas tour had kickstarted this whole series of events. after that, he started his american tour, which was a whole other stressor for him– then the colonel was still so adamant about him performing at the goddamn international twice a day. in other words, elvis was at his limit– and while he had the temper of a thousand suns… he was most likely just exhausted rather than angry.

still…to see him crying, cuddled up to a plush toy was far from expected. though, now that binder pondered on it, it did make a bit of sense. elvis didn't have the easiest of childhoods– growing up dirt poor with only his momma and his love of comic books to skirt him by. maybe what they were seeing was elvis’s way of trying to relive that childhood.

jerry spoke first. it felt appropriate, seeing as he had a closer relationship with elvis. with a curious expression, he knelt down by the bed until he was eye level with the sniffling, trembling elvis.

“hey, you okay, ep?” he asks lowly, his voice gentle and laced with concern. “It’s jerry. a-and steve. we came to check on you, ‘cuz we were worried ‘bout ya after what happened on stage–”

“no!” the raven haired man cried out, harshly jerking his body so that he was facing the wall opposed to schilling. “no no no! don’ talk about that!” he cried out, his voice broken and utterly distraught at the reminder of what went down on stage. he was being absolutely petulant, the tears streaming down his face becoming fatter. jerry cursed under his breath as elvis continued his tantrum. “d-d-don’ wanna think ‘bout it! j-jus wanna go home!”

“alright, alright,” jerry muttered lowly, his expression grew more concerned as elvis went on, his grip on the stuffed bear tightened significantly as he thrashed around. steve felt absolutely helpless as he watched the other man try to calm elvis down, only for the dark haired man to thrash around more wildly in frustration.

binder felt horrible for his boss. seeing him so clearly distraught made his heart clench in a painful way. he could have done a better job to prevent this pain. maybe if he had pushed back against the colonel more– elvis wouldn't be in such a pained mindset.

spurred on by his guilt, he slowly extended a hand towards his boss, laying it on his shin gently. elvis slowed in his thrashing for a moment, thrown off by the touch. he stared at steve, who was just giving him a patient, understanding look. schilling set his jaw, taking the momentary calm as an opportunity to speak once more.

“we’re here, elvis. we just want you to be okay.” he murmured.

the man stilled, his chest heaving as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks hotly, staining the satin of his top with little wet blotches. his wailing slowly turned into sporadic whimpers, his shaky hands reaching out for either of the two men beside him for comfort. they obliged him, scooting closer to elvis and allowing him to cling onto them as tightly as he needed to. he pressed his tear-stained face into the crook of binder’s neck, making the man jolt in surprise. elvis continued sniffling, his plush bear now dangling in his grasp as he weakly sobbed into steve’s warm skin.

the men shared a look, a mix of bewilderment, relief, and slight fear. how long would elvis be like…this?

“what's the matter, elvis?” schilling asked, rubbing a large hand up and down his back. when all he got in response was a series of harsh, hiccupy breaths, jerry hushed him and pat him on the back firmly. “hey, c’mon. it's alright. no more tears, you're alright.”

“take a deep breath.” binder said softly, his voice laced with an unsure, wavering tone that he inwardly cursed at himself for. “just breathe.”

the dark-haired man took a series of deep, shaky breaths, before he lifted his head from the damp crevice of binder’s skin. his eyes were red and glassy, his face shiny with his tears. his lip was trembling– giving him the look of a lost little boy. binder felt an overwhelming urge to protect him.

“...’m sorry,” elvis muttered, his voice soft and hoarse from his earlier crying. “d-didn't mean ‘t yell.” he sniffles, his face flushed with shame as he avoided eye contact with either man. “‘m a bad boy.”

“no, no,” jerry said softly, shaking his head. “you're not bad.”

“yeah.” binder agreed softly, moving a stray piece of hair from elvis’s eyes. “you’ve had a rough day. you're allowed to be upset.”

“b-but i yelled,” he murmured. “i-i yelled at you….’n…i-i-i was bein’ mean.”

“that’s okay. we don't care about that now. we just wanna be sure that you're alright.” steve explained, watching as elvis pawed at his eyes feverishly. “are you alright?”

“mhm.” elvis answered with a pitiful little sniffle, leaning into binder once more. “i’m jus’ tired…’n scared…lonely,” he admitted, pulling the tear stained bear close to his chest. “wan’ go home.”

“i know,” schilling piped up. “we just got a little while longer, and we’ll be back at graceland, playin’ football in the yard. how's that sound?”

“wanna go home to all ‘m stuffies,” he mumbled, rocking back and forth gently. “a-all them in my room, up in ‘m closet…” elvis said softly, smiling gently to himself.

“s…stuffies?” steve asked, curious.

elvis wipes at his nose with his sleeve. “l-like this guy..!” he said, holding up the brown bear in his arms. “e-e-except at home, i-i got lions, ‘n tigers, a-and even little b-b-bunnies….”

“is that right?” schilling asked, a small smile on his lips. “do they all have names?”

“mhm,” his boss muttered, shy as he idly played with his stuffed animal's arms. “all of ‘em.”

“maybe when we get back, you can give us a little tour.” jerry mused, giving elvis a patient little smile.

elvis stared at schilling owlishly, before looking away and flushing a light pink high on his cheekbones. he pressed his face into the fur of his bear once more. “okay,”

steve felt the clenching in his heart be replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling. seeing him calm, and somewhat demure made him flood with relief– elvis truly seemed happy when he was like this.

was it odd? maybe a little. steve had never seen anything like it where he was from, but in this line of work, he learned to be open-minded. he was just glad it was him and schilling, one of elvis’s closest friends, that happened to stumble upon him in this state of mind, and not someone that might have set him off more– like the colonel, or maybe even vernon.

with a little hum, steve stood. “well, we need to get going. we got a lot of work to get to.”

elvis’s face fell. he looked disappointed. “oh. okay.”

jerry cocked his head to the side at his reaction, leaning down so that he was eye-level with him. “...what's wrong?”

elvis averted his gaze from the two men shyly, swaying back and forth lazily as he muttered softly into the soft, synthetic fur of his teddy bear.

“wan’ you to stay,”

“me?” jerry asked. “or steve?”

“both,” elvis sniffled. “don' wanna be alone.”

jerry and steve shared a curious look, before looking back at the small, frail looking elvis.

“you want us to stay with you?” steve asked, to which elvis nodded in response meekly, wiping at his eyes. his movements were growing more and more sluggish, his eyes becoming droopy and lidded as he spoke again.

“mhm. need…what if someone tries ‘t attack me ‘gain? you’ll stop ‘em, right?” he mumbled, eyes beginning to flutter shut as he slurred out his words. “you’ll protect yittle elvie..?”

steve watched as the man dozed off, the ear of his stuffie between his lips as his breath began to even out. jerry pressed a hand to his lower back, guiding him to lay down fully in the soft, plush pillows.

“i’ll protect you, bud.” schilling muttered, his expression fond as he watched the man nuzzle his nose into his stuffed animal, a small, content smile on his lips.

binder blinked up at schilling, who was already kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable in the bed beside elvis. he sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

“are we actually gonna sleep in here with him?”

“i am.” jerry answered simply, settling on his side. “he asked me to, so i’m gonna stay. he needs me.”

“but our work–”

“christ man, if you're so worried about that you don't gotta stay!” schilling whispered, annoyed. “y’can leave if you want, but i’m staying here– where it matters.”

binder felt his face flush with shame under schilling's scornful gaze. he hadn't meant to come off like he didn’t care about elvis, but he just didn't want to have to deal with another long, boring lecture from the colonel because they were behind again. all of this stuff was kind of starting to get to him as well. all he wanted was to get his work done in peace– without hearing the colonel butcher his name and call him a hippie.

“no, i…i’m sorry,” steve muttered, fidgeting with his ascot idly. “i’ll stay. i just– ugh, i don’t wanna hear his mouth in the morning.” binder sighed, undoing the fabric around his neck.

schilling's expression softened slightly in understanding. “yeah, i hear ya. i know he never yells at me directly– but man, i hate hearin’ him yell period.” he murmured, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. steve huffed warily in amusement, before silence fell over the both of them.

“...y’shouldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

“i don't…uh, really have a choice.” steve admitted. “i’m not…the confrontational kind. i prefer to push back in a much less direct way. he just…he just keeps approaching me, though, like he knows how uncomfortable he makes me.”

“he prolly does,” jerry hummed, his voice growing tired. “wouldn't put it past ‘im.”

binder smirked crookedly. “you getting tired on me, schilling?”

“hell yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes halfway closed. “been a long day. we all need some sleep.” he yawned, finally shutting his eyes.

“fine. goodnight.” steve hummed, laying his head down. he didn't get a response– just snoring.

he laughed to himself, studying the two men in front of him. elvis was fast asleep, clutching onto that same little bear for dear life as he chewed on it's ear, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. it made binder think. he mentioned his collection of plushies at home… so how long has this been a thing?

taking elvis’s past into account, and his relationship with his mother, binder suspected that this was more that a quirk or a hobby of his. he seemed like he was genuinely a little boy. like he couldn't control his emotions. that pitiful, petulant look in his eyes, those tears rolling down his flushed cheeks, the worn stuffed bear he clutched onto like a lifeline– maybe it was a lot deeper than just another thing he did.

steve could only wonder on the specifics as he dozed off, the soft snores of the other two men lulling him into a dreamless sleep.

#elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x reader #jerry schilling x reader #steve binder x reader #elvis presley #jerry schilling #steve binder #elvis 2022 #agere #age regression

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 years

Text

Guitar Man | Steve Binder x fem!reader

It’s love at first sight when your childhood friend Elvis asks you to be a part of his comeback special. But there’s no way Steve Binder, director extraordinaire, feels the same way… right?

Request from @love-munson

a/n: thank you so much for the request darling!! I absolutely loved writing this, and I look forward to writing more for Steve in the future!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: a couple swear words, a Mean Girl™, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Being a dancer who was childhood friends with Elvis Presley and still kept in touch with him to this day definitely had its perks.

Like, for example, when Elvis called you up and hired you and several of your fellow dancers to be in an NBC special he was filming.

Your jaw drops. “You’re serious? You want us to be in your special?” You were from a fairly small studio, surely there were some larger, more experienced groups he could have asked.

“Of course, Y/N,” he laughs, “I know you’re good, and I know your friends are too. Plus it’ll give us a chance to hang out a bit. I know we haven’t gotten to see each other a whole lot recently, and I’d like to fix that.”

“I’d really like that, Elvis. I’ll let the other girls know. Thank you so, so much,” you beam, “Oh, and just be prepared? They’re all really big fans.”

“I’m always prepared, Y/N, don’t you worry.” He replies, and you can hear the smug grin in his voice.

“Alright, when should we expect to see you and your ego?” you tease

“Steve and Bones wanna do a pre-rehearsal meeting next Saturday, is that alright?”

You nod, “Yeah, sounds perfect! I’ll make sure everyone’s there.”

Your friends and fellow dancers are, understandably, ecstatic at the idea of dancing in Elvis Presley’s special, and one of the girls jokingly comes up with a pact that if this happens to lead to one of the girls’ big breaks, the six of you will support each other no matter what. You all eagerly agree, with one glaring exception: Marie.

The snooty blonde simply rolls her eyes, scoffing “If it’s going to be anyone's big break, it’s gonna be mine, and I promise I won’t need you all when I’m at a studio that actually appreciates my talent.” She throws a pointed glare your way. The mood ruined, the rest of the girls go to pack up their things. They mumble amongst themselves, used to Marie’s moods by now. You sigh as you collect your belongings. You and Marie have been unofficial rivals since the beginning of your career at the studio, where the two of you were neck and neck competing for a lead spot until your director picked you for the position. You were shocked and honored, as you had been sure that Marie was going to get it, but leaving Marie in second place had carved a rift in your previously somewhat-friendly relationship that you had never been able to fix.

A week later, your group is set up in a hotel that Elvis picked out for you, and the girls are chatting excitedly— all but one. Marie had already found several “problems” with the hotel, and rather than being practically giddy about this opportunity you all had, she was almost detached, as if this was simply something she deserved. You take a deep breath and try to ignore her as you set out for the studio.

The gaggle of girls, with Marie cooly leading the charge, enters the studio. You slink to the back to quickly comfort Lucy, a fairly new addition, who suddenly looks very nervous.

“Hey, there they are!” You hear Elvis cheerfully proclaim, no doubt recognizing some of the girls in the group. You give Lucy’s hand one last squeeze and step in front of Marie to greet your friend. You ignore her glare burning into the back of your head as you pull Elvis into a hug, “It’s good to see you, thank you so much for this.”

He smiles as you step away, looking from you to your girls, “No, it’s really me who should be thanking y’all. I’m excited to see what we do together. Now,” he claps his hands, all business, and turns back to the table set up, where there are two other men sitting and waiting.

“This is Steve Binder,” Elvis says, gesturing to the man with neat brown hair, an ascot tied around his neck, and the prettiest blue eyes you’d ever seen in a man, “and this is Bones Howe,” he gestures to a man with darker hair and round glasses, “These fine gentlemen are the directors and producers of the show, really the masterminds behind it.”

This is clearly a cue for them to speak, but there’s only silence, and Steve is… staring at you? You flush, hoping you don’t have something on your face. Eventually Bones takes the lead, explaining their ideas for the special while Steve pulls himself back to reality.

They take time to answer any questions you all have, and the conversation concludes. The other girls leave the room giddy as can be, while Elvis pulls you aside, leading you over to Bones and Steve.

“Boys, this is Y/N, a very dear friend of mine,” he says, “I know I’ve already told you about her—” at that you shoot him a questioning glance, but he ignores you, continuing “— but I wanted you to meet her personally.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bones says, reaching out for a handshake.

“We’ve, uh, heard a lot about you,” Steve says with a smile.

“All good things, I hope?” you reply, shooting a teasing glance over at Elvis.

“All fantastic things,” Steve assures you as you shake his hand, and you may just be imagining things, but it seems like his hand lingers in yours for just a little longer than normal. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and your face flushes at the genuine compliment.

The four of you make small talk for a bit before Steve and Bones have to leave, presumably working out more behind-the-scenes stuff for the special.

Elvis gives you a knowing smile as the two of you exit the studio together.

“What?”

His smile widens, “Nothin’, just… you and Steve sure seemed to hit it off.”

You feel your face heat up. “Yeah, he was nice,” you shrug.

“Aw c’mon, Y/N,” Elvis nudges your shoulder, “I’ve known you for too long, you can’t hide a crush from me. Don’t worry, Steve’s good people.”

“I just met him, Elvis, he definitely doesn’t like me like that,” you reply, no longer bothering to deny it.

“You never know. I’d be happy to talk you up, if you like.”

“Sounds like you already did that,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“What? I can’t brag about my friend?”

“Well, I never said that.”

“Y’know, I’m sure I won’t even need to talk you up,” he says as you finally approach your respective cars, “He’s gonna see for himself how amazing you are during rehearsals.” His tone turns a touch more sincere, “Seriously, Y/N, I really appreciate you bein’ here. I’m so excited for this.”

You smile at the gleam in his eyes, “Well, thank you for calling. I’m really excited, too. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“See ya tomorrow. Steve’ll be there, too!” he calls cheerfully as the purple Cadillac pulls out of the lot.

You sigh to yourself as you start the drive back to your hotel. He’s going to be absolutely insufferable about this.

“So, Y/N,” Marie sidles up to you during a break in rehearsals, the other girls crowding around you, “how long have you known Elvis?”

“Oh, um… we’ve been friends since we were kids, grew up together in Memphis,” you explain cautiously. Marie had never shown an interest in your life, what was she up to now?

“Hm, I see. You must’ve had an enormous crush on him, right? I mean, I know I would’ve,” she says with a smirk, eyes glittering with barely-hidden malice.

“No, actually,” you correct her cooly, “He’s more like a big brother to me. Been that way all our lives.”

“Oh,” her smirk falls, “whatever, then.” She turns and walks away, as if that piece of information just ruined whatever game she was playing.

Before you can wonder just what she’s up to, the girls begin clamoring for more information about what it was like growing up with the Elvis Presley, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

Steve comes down from the control room more and more during rehearsals, claiming that being down on the studio floor will help him figure out good vantage points for the cameras. You try to avoid engaging him in conversation, not wanting to distract him, but somehow he always ends up near you during breaks. Not that you’re complaining, of course.

You fail to notice Marie watching you like a hawk as the two of you chat over the course of rehearsals.

During one such break, you decide to bring up the fact that rehearsals have been going on for nearly two weeks, and he’s been down on the studio floor for your performances for nearly half of that time. “Is it really that different from when you’re up in the control room?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, the view is much better down here,” he says with a small smile, and you could swear his eyes rake up and down your body for just a split second before he adds, “uh, for placing the cameras, I mean.”

You feel your face heat up, and you hope it isn’t too noticeable. There’s no way he’s flirting right now, right? Before you can respond, your choreographer, Lance, calls everyone back, leaving you to push all thoughts of Steve to the back of your mind.

At the end of rehearsal, Steve calls you and Elvis over.

“So, we wanna try to get some extra shots, for promotions, lighting tests, etcetera,” he explains, “it’s gonna be mostly one-on-one shots, I figured the two of you would be the most comfortable with that versus one of the other girls.”

“Sounds good,” Elvis says as you nod your agreement.

It turns out the shots Steve needs are some of the more… flirtatious ones, which you recognize from the Guitar Man sequence you’ve been working on.

Steve, to your surprise, stays on the studio floor rather than going back up to the control room. As you go through the motions— Elvis standing just behind you, your heads turned so your noses are almost touching, his hands resting on your hips; teasingly pushing him down into a chair, your prop fan in his face— you happen to glance over at Steve, and… you’re sure it’s your imagination, but you could swear you catch a glimmer of— is that jealousy?— in his eyes.

A crew member comes up to touch up yours and Elvis’s makeup, but he stops them as he sees the clock.

“Hey, Steve, I’ve gotta get going,” he says apologetically, “I promised I’d meet Cilla for dinner, but you guys can keep goin’ without me right? Just… go through the motions or somethin’. See how it looks in the lighting and whatnot.” He shoots you a quick wink, mouthing have fun as he scoots out the door, leaving just you and Steve, plus a couple of crew members in the studio.

“I mean, we do kinda need these shots so we can adjust the lighting properly,” Steve says hesitantly, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

“I wouldn’t mind walking you through some of the moves, if you’re comfortable with that?” you suggest softly, doing your best to sound like your heart isn’t racing at the thought of Steve taking Elvis’s place.

“Sure,” he agrees, “uh, where do we start?”

He steps onto the tiled floor and you walk him through some of the tamer moves before one of the crew speaks up.

“Hey, we’re gonna need you guys to do some of the uh… closer ones?”

There’s only one part of the routine that comes to mind, and your face flushes. You nod, “Okay,” and turn to Steve. “Are you… comfortable with that?”

“Sure, yeah.” he nods.

“Okay, so,” you clear your throat, doing your best to appear professional, “for this one you're gonna stand behind me.”

“Like this?” He moves so he’s standing about a foot away from you.”

“Uh, a little closer.”

He steps forward so his chest is just barely brushing your left shoulder, “This better?”

You hum an affirmation, taking a deep breath to calm yourself at his sudden proximity and instead breathing in his cologne, which only makes your heart race even faster. Be professional, you scold yourself.

“Now you’ll, um, put your hands on my hips.”

“Alright.” His hands land on your waist.

“Um, a little lower.”

You pray he doesn’t notice how your breath hitches as his hands slide down to your hips, and his breath hits your cheek as he says softly “Here?”

“Y-yeah,” you exhale, “now, uh, you just turn your head towards me and—“

Your breath catches as you turn to find him staring at you, his nose just barely brushing yours. Your eyes, as if on instinct, flick down to his lips then back to his eyes, only to find him staring at a spot below your eyes. The two of you stay frozen in that moment, your tongue darting out to wet your suddenly very dry lips before you whisper, “I, uh, I think they’ve got what they need.”

“Yeah,” Steve replies distractedly before seeming to snap back to reality, “Y-Yeah! Right,” he says, releasing you and taking a step back.

You feel the emptiness of the space he once occupied next to you, and your heart slowly sinks as he stammers, “I should, uh, get back up there,” he gestures to the control room. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

You nod, forcing a smile on your face as you wave goodbye, “See you tomorrow.”

Your hand drifts to where his hand laid on your hip, a weak semblance of the way he held you, before you shake yourself, heading towards the dressing room to get out of your skimpy pink outfit. Be professional.

You’ve been fairly successful in hiding your feelings for Steve since then, but everything changes the day you’re finally filming the Guitar Man sequence.

Lance calls for a break and you slide off to the side for a sip of water. The smirk on your face at the sight of your friends crowding Elvis for the moment turns into a surprised smile when you see Steve standing nearby. He was usually up in the control room during filming, what was he doing down here?

You don’t notice Marie’s eyes locked on you as she saunters over to Elvis.

“So…” she begins, squeezing onto the small bench with him where he had just grabbed a Pepsi and sat down, “Is Steve single? Because I really feel like we’d be perfect for each other.”

Elvis chuckles politely. “I’m not quite sure you’re his type, darlin’,” he says, his eyes flicking over to you for the briefest of moments.

Brief, but not brief enough for Marie to miss it. She stands up again, hiding a smirk. “Well, never hurts to try,” she singsongs as she walks away.

You’ve finally worked up the courage to approach Steve but just as you smooth down the pink miniskirt serving as your costume and start to walk over to him, Marie saunters over.

Now, an ordinary observer would’ve seen how Steve tensed up when Marie placed her hand on his arm, standing much closer to him than most would deem necessary, and the way he seemed to look around for help as he engaged her in a stiff conversation.

You, however, only saw the smug look Marie threw your way as she flirted with the man you were head over heels for.

That look was all it took for the courage you worked up to come crumbling down. You slip past your friends, making an excuse about needing some air, and out the back door, where you collapse against the rough brick exterior of the studio.

You feel pressure building behind your eyes and force the tears back, taking a deep breath in and out. You had known it was silly to hope that he would ever have feelings for you beyond platonic but Marie… you certainly hadn’t imagined her being his type, but based on what you had seen, you couldn’t really blame him. Wasn’t a tall, willowy blonde what every man wanted?

Your wallowing is interrupted by the sound of the back door opening, and you look up to see Steve approaching you, a worried look on his face.

“Sorry, I would've been out here sooner but Marie sure does like to talk,” he jokes, an attempt to lighten the mood, “I saw you slip out, are you okay?

“I’m fine,” you try to assure him around the lump still present in your throat, “Don’t worry about me,” you add with a tight smile, “go on back to Marie, I’m sure she’s wondering where you went.”

He frowns as you’re unable to hide the bitterness in your voice. “You know I don’t really, uh, like talking to her, right? I much prefer talking to you,” he says, his eyes soft.

Your heart flutters at the compliment, “You do?”

“Of course,” he laughs, “Why do you think I always ended up next to you during rehearsals?”

You process his words for a moment; he prefers you over Marie?

“I like talking to you, too,” you say, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“So, uh,” he turns to face you, leaning against the brick wall, “what made you run out here?” he asks, concern clear in his voice.

You shake your head, “It’s nothing, really,” you insist.

“Now I know that’s a lie,” he raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have to tell me, but I wanna help if I can,” he adds softly.

You can’t find it in you to lie to his face, and the words come tumbling out, “I saw you with Marie, and I hated it. She was only flirting with you to get under my skin, I know it, but then it didn’t seem like you were discouraging it or anything and that hurt so much because—“

Your brain finally catches up to your mouth and you stop yourself before you completely ruin the friendship you’ve built.

But Steve isn’t having any of that. “Because…?”

Well, no going back now. “Because… I really, really like you,” you finally whisper, keeping your eyes on the ground to avoid seeing his reaction.

There’s a pause, and your heart crumbles before two fingers come up under your chin to gently tilt your head up. Sparkling blue eyes meet yours, and you hear a whisper of “I really, really like you, too,” before his lips meet yours and your mind is void of everything but him: the softness of his lips on yours, one hand cradling your face as the other gently grips your hip, pulling you close, your hands finding purchase in the lapels of his suede jacket.

He pulls away much too soon for your liking, and it takes you a good few seconds to blink back to reality as you’re greeted by the sight of Steve giving you a shy smile, the hand that was cupping your face now resting at your waist.

“You kissed me,” you say oh-so-cleverly, your mind scrambling to process the event that had just occurred.

“Yeah,” he laughs shyly, “I hope that wasn’t too much?”

You shake your head, “No, that was… that was perfect.” you beam, moving to smooth out the lapels that you had had in a death grip.

“Good, because I’ve been wanting to do that since the first day of rehearsals,” he admits with a laugh that’s absolutely adorable, and you’re about to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for another kiss when the back door swings open once more.

You freeze as you hear, “Steve, is everything okay out here, people are wonderin’ wh—“

Elvis cuts off at the sight of the two of you, “Oh. Well it’s about time, you two! Take your time, don’t worry.” He turns, yelling to the rest of the studio something about an extended break.

You and Steve collapse into giggles as the door closes, feeling like teenagers who just got caught by their parents.

“Hey,” Steve says as the two of you calm down, “are you free on Saturday? I’d… I’d really like to take you out on a date,” he chuckles.

“I’d love that,” you smile, “There’s this Italian place near the hotel that I’ve been meaning to try?” you suggest.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up at 6?”

“I’ll be waiting,” you beam, and you can’t resist giving him one last peck on the lips before the two of you head back inside, your heart much lighter than it was before.

Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @anangelwhodidntfall @austin-butlers-gf @butlersluvbot @killerqueenfan @kittenlittle24 @beauvibaby @kingelviscreole @justjacesstuff @sweetheartlizzie07 @coldonexx @londonalozzy @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @djconde58 @mirandastuckinthe80s @luke-my-skywalker @tubble-wubble @apparently-sunshine @kisseskae @whotfatemywaffles @gyomei-tiddies @friedwangsss @shynovelist @sassy-ahsoka-tano @she-is-juniper @eliseline @yourselenite @hallecarey1 @adoreyouusugar @obetrolncocktails

#steve binder x reader #steve binder #elvis (2022)#elvis 2022 #elvis biopic #elvis baz luhrmann #dacre x reader #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader

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tumbleweedbee · 2 years

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So,SO tempted to make a Steve binder x male reader,because I’ve seen NONE and he’s fine asf,what do ye think?I have seen 0 fanfics abt him-

Idk I’ve only seen a few edits of him so maybe I’m missing something but-

#Steve binder #elvis movie #elvis presley #Steve #binder #Steve binder x reader #Steve binder x Gn reader #Steve binder x male reader #tumbleweedbee

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bcofl0ve · 1 year

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from steve binder’s 68 special book. the story of him being shut out after it aired will always be one of the most heartbreaking aspects of e’s life, to me. i hope he got to the other side and found peace in finally knowing his friend didn’t ghost him. and boy, am i going to cry like a *baby* when steve talks about this in the documentary coming out for the 55th anniversary next year.

#mollie talks about elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley #elvis comeback special #elvis 68 comeback special #68 special #elvis movie #steve binder #baz luhrmann elvis #baz luhrmann #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader

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floralcyanide · 9 months

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𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲/ 𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝑠𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑙 𝑘𝑒𝑦: 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 ✺ 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 ✿ 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 ☁ 𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤 ☼

𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗋!𝖾𝗅𝗏𝗂𝗌

- 𝗃𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 ☼✺

- 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ☁

- 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒, 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 ☼✺

- 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 ☼☁✺

𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗋

- “𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗌” 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ✿

- 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗄𝖾 ☼✺

- 𝗂'𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 ✿

- 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖺 (𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼) ✺✿☁☼

- 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 ☼✺

- 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 ☼✺

- 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈!𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ✿

- 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 ☼☁✺

- 𝟣𝟢,𝟢𝟢𝟢 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌 ☼✺

- 𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ✿

- 𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 II ✿

- 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗆𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ✿

- 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗆 ☁

- 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇 ☼✺

- 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝖾𝗒𝗌 ✿

- 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇: part one | part two ✿☼✺

𝖾𝗅𝗏𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗒

- 𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗌𝗍 ☁

- 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗒 ☁

𝗃𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀

- the 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 ☁

- 𝗃𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ✿

- 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗈 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖾 ☼✺

𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋

- “𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗌” 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ✿

- 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒, 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 ☼✺

- 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗏𝗂𝗌’ 𝖾𝗑 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 ✿

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elvisabutler · 11 months

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let's not let a good thing die

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley x female reader and steve binder x female reader word count: 2644 warnings: thigh riding. cuckolding. infidelity which is implied by the cuckolding. coming in pants. p in v sex ( unprotected ). voyeurism. minor minor daddy kink. a bit of a humiliation kink on steve's part. minor minor size kink. dominant elvis. slight period typical homophobia in thoughts. i think i have everyone? i am unsure. oh author’s note: welcome to day 1 of ally's wet hot smut summer, cuckolding with steve binder x reader x elvis. this was fun. title came from suspicious minds coming on at the place i was writing this when i first started. moodboard does not reflect race or size, i just had a vision for this board and went with it. this is alos basically a faint continuation of ride it, my pony even though that is gender neutral. you don't have to read it for this to make sense in the slightest.

"Steve. My boy, my boy—" Elvis practically croons as you grind on his thigh, aching for friction and just that more touch from him.

"I'm two years older than you, E." Steve bites back in a rush as he watches you- the one woman he loves more than anyone else in the world grind on Elvis Presley’s thigh.He should tear his eyes away and look anywhere else in the room but he can’t. How many times had he fooled around with you like this? How many times had you been so needy while he was working that you found yourself on his thigh, muffling your cries in his shoulder? Too many times to count and yet here you were in this moment not on his thigh but on Elvis’s. Elvis who he had told to stay away from you, because you were his as possessive as it was. You were supposed to be all Steve’s and only his. Yet were you? The way your hips shift and your body grinds down on Elvis betray such a familiarity that Steve bites back bile the longer he looks at the two of you.

“You wouldn’t know it,” you start to mock before Elvis’s knee bounces in just the right way to send a shockwave through your system. “El—”

“Sorry darlin’, ya know me, got those jittery legs. Practically got ants all in my pants. Seein’ ya bounce like that— can’t help it. Gotta give ya a helpin’ knee.” Elvis chuckles, his pretense of even trying to sound chagrined thrown by the wayside as easily as the scarf that had been around your neck. His hand moves to settle at the bottom of your throat. “Look at that neck o’hers, Stevie. You give her all those marks? Bruise up this sweet skin o’ hers?”

Elvis’s smile is all teeth as he moves to nuzzle and bite at your neck while Steve manages to finally answer even as his voice shakes just that little bit. “Not— I don’t usually— those aren’t all me.” You had been wearing that scarf for two days. “How- how many of those did he give you?”

His question is directed at you, even as his eyes just focus on Elvis’s plush lips against your skin, watching your pulse jump just that tiny bit. Steve realizes that he's never seen that scarf in his life on you. He thinks, and thinks, and looks at Elvis's throat only to force himself to look away and try to think about anything except how it was Elvis's scarf, how it'd looked around his throat. How you had joked with him about how easily it would be for someone to pull him by it into a kiss. You had been speaking from experience hadn't you? Visions of your laughter as you yank Elvis by that scarf swarm Steve's mind, replacing times you had done the same to him. Your eyes are hooded and your mouth is open allowing tiny little pants to escape it when you answer.

"The scarves? Or the bruises on my neck?”

Scarves. The word settles in his brain as it passes through his ears. It settles like a ton of bricks, weighing down his chest and twisting his heart. Elvis had given you multiple scarves and multiple hickies and you were supposed to be his and yet. Yet maybe you weren’t. Maybe you weren’t if he had allowed himself to be deceived like this. If he had allowed himself to be cuckolded by Elvis Presley.

“Both, I guess.” Steve wets his lips, his eyes once again settling on Elvis and how he’s touching you. How his lips caress your skin and how his hands are gripping your hips, trying to get you not to move. You always were so impatient, so much so that he sometimes let you slide. Elvis— Elvis’s grip on you didn’t allow for a single bit of movement, earning small little whines of displeasure that sound like music to Steve’s ears. It’s better than any note he’s heard Elvis sing or heard him play as of late.

“Just two scarves,” you answer, as Elvis finally lets your hips go just enough that you can grind down again. “And I lost count of everything on my neck. I know you did one a few days ago.”

The implication is that Elvis had put the rest of them there in the past few days. No wonder he had seemed as if he had a pep in his step. Steve swallows and tries to step away, tries to turn around and leave the room but he can’t. You and Elvis would be content to do this without him but if he’s going to have this happen, why should the two of you get to do it in private. His jaw tenses as he moves closer, close enough to touch your arm and you jump, your clit brushing up against Elvis’s thigh.

“Steve,” Elvis growls out what almost sounds like a warning before raising his eyebrows. “Stevie boy, what’re ya doin’? Tryin’ to take her off of me? I don’t think she wants that—” he turns to look at you, one hand removing itself from your hip and grabbing your jaw in order to pull you in for a kiss. “Do ya honey?”

If you were being entirely honest you don’t know. On the one hand, Elvis has brought a significant amount of pleasure to you over the past few days while Steve has been otherwise occupied. It wasn’t your intention to go behind Steve’s back, it just worked out that way. It’s not that you don’t love Steve but you were aching and wanting and Elvis’s cock and lips and tongue were there for the taking. A pleased hum leaves your lips as your head lolls back a little until you remember that your boyfriend is in the room with you and Elvis. You should answer him. “Steve,” you pout, your tone every bit of a person being spoiled in your pleasure. “He’s been good to me. You should see him fuck me, I’m so full.”

Steve can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks as his eyes glance down to where he can see Elvis’s sizable bulge pressing against his slacks. His own arousal has his cock pressing against the zipper of his pants with such ferocity that he swears it’s leaving an imprint on it. Elvis had fucked you better than he had, Elvis had filled you with his cock better than he had. He had claimed you as his own as if he didn’t already have every woman he ever wanted at his feet. As if Susan hadn’t been fooling around with him, as if all the dancers didn’t want a piece of him, as if the crowd while they filmed didn’t want to jump him. Elvis had claimed you, of all the people in the world and Steve— he wanted to know why.

“Show me.” The demand is simple and concise and yet has both you and Elvis’s eyes widening just a bit. This was a side to Steve you had never seen and Elvis, well, Elvis was surprised the wonderful Steve Binder had it in him. Still, he manages to speak before you do.

“Is that right, Steve?” His lips are curled into the sort of grin you only see on wolves and other predators. It shouldn’t be arousing to anyone and yet you lick your lips at the sight. “Ya know, you ain’t the first man I’ve done this to, Stevie boy.”

“I’m just the first one who caught you?” Steve spits out, trying to maintain some sort of dominance as if he hasn’t been on the losing end of things this entire conversation. Maybe if he fakes it enough Elvis won’t see the throbbing outline of his cock, begging for him to release it from the confines of his pants. “Or the only one who’ll fight for the person they love?”

A shiver wracks your body and you mewl as Elvis’s hand that had been still on your hip slips between your legs, pushing aside your panties and slides two fingers in with a obscene squelch of arousal. “El— Ste—” you start both of their names, unsure of which one to say before Elvis tuts.

“Nah. Ya the first one ‘m gonna show how to treat her right. ‘Cause—” A huff of a laugh. “Ya may not believe it, but Binder, I gotta lotta respect for ya. Ya deserve this. Deserve this woman on ya arm, but my boy ya gotta take care of her.” His fingers move slowly inside of you as you try and speak. “Ya hear that? Haven’t even fucked her today and she’s that goddamn needy. Achin’ for my cock. Ya wanna help me give it to her? Wanna watch my cock slide in between that tight fuckin’ pussy ya get to sleep ‘side ever night?”

No. His instinctive answer is a resounding no but when he glances at you and how your body is trying to grind on Elvis’s hand, chasing a feeling you’ve experienced with both men in the room. Well, it makes up his mind easier than any other thing could have. “You— I’ll help you.” His hand reaches out to touch your chin, to replace Elvis’s hand only to be swatted away by the man in question.

“Been callin’ the shots wit’ me all week. Right now Daddy’s in charge. Gonna give ya girl what she needs and give ya a lesson in it.”

Steve’s reaction startles him, a groan he has to turn into a cough as his cock pulses in his slacks. He’s not— he’s pretty sure he doesn’t indulge in those sorts of thoughts but Elvis— is another person entirely. He makes it so easy to just think about him in that way. In the sort of way he doesn’t think he should when he’s in a very committed…at least on his end, relationship. The only thing that manages to get Steve out of his head, the only thing that silences his thoughts is your moan and the sound of Elvis’s zipper and pants being undone. His cock springs forth from it confines in all its uncut glory and Elvis moves to grab Steve’s hand, moving it close to between your legs but not quite where it needs to be.

You look down at Steve’s hand and smile at it along with Elvis’s cock. “Can he help you put it in, E? Can he?”

“It’s like you read my mind, darlin’,” Elvis croons as he moves Steve’s hand to the front of his crotch right above his cock. “Ya heard that girl of yourn, Steve. Help me put it in. I’ll guide you.”

Steve’s never been one to back down from a challenge and today is no different as he wraps his hand around Elvis’s cock, allowing the man to help him pull back his foreskin before you shift just enough to expose your pussy to them both. Somehow you’ve lost your underwear and yet Steve can’t complain even as his free hand twitches with want to touch your pussy, to feel the slick heat of your arousal against his fingers. He wishes he could taste you right now but he’s supposed to just watch and assist. The three of you hiss as Elvis enters you. The burn erring just on the side of comfortable and Elvis marveling in how you’re still so tight and warm. Steve’s hand caught for a moment before he pulls it away and moves to undo his pants, the press of his cock beginning to be too much finally to the point where he’s certain he’ll die if he doesn’t manage some release.

“Now, Steve, ya can’t be studyin’ and learnin’ if ya distracted. Ain’t no playin’ with that cock ya got ‘tween ya legs. It ain’t mine but I know she likes it jus’ plenty. Eyes on her pussy, Binder. Shame ya don’t got ya clipboard. Be able to take notes on how a real man takes care of his woman,” Elvis grips your hip and thrusts upward as you grind down on his cock before pulling back, his cock sliding out of you with an obscene squish of your combined arousal and Elvis’s precum. “Ya see, Stevie? Gotta let ‘er ride ya like the cowgirl she is. Gotta let ‘er take what she needs while you press into ‘er jus’—” he thrusts particularly hard and fast and you yowl in pleasure. “Right. Hard ‘nough for her to feel it in her stomach and in her throat. Use her like she’s usin’ ya. Mutual pleasure for the both o’ ya.”

Steve listens, Steve listens and yet the words start to jumble in his head the more he sees Elvis’s cock covered in your juices and the more he hears your mewls and cries and the more he sees Elvis touch your clothed breasts, squeezing them tightly in his hands. He’s not even sure of the passage of time or anything beyond the rush of his heartbeat in his head and the pulse of it between his legs. He’s doing what he was told, just watching as Elvis fucks you with a speed you don’t usually allow Steve to. Maybe— maybe he should do it the next time. He’s not as large as Elvis, but he could manage this pace. He could grab your breasts and pinch your clit and cover your neck with bruises he left there.

“Steve—” you cry out in his mind and in front of him and when Steve looks at you, staring at him blissed out and fucked on another man’s cock, he can’t help the grunt that leaves his body. His orgasm slams into him not long after as he leans forward, trying to make it less obvious as his underwear fills with his release warm and sticky as he shudders. His mind registers that there’s no noise other than his breathing and your breathing and Elvis’s breathing before he looks up and sees you biting your lip and Elvis’s hand slipping between your legs even as he looks directly at Steve.

“Didn’t think ya had that dirty secret, Stevie boy. What’d ya say I help her come since ya couldn’t even wait for her to finish. No wonder she came to me. Settle down and keep watchin’. Maybe I can make ya do it again? Make a real mess of ya.”

Elvis’s hand slides between the two of you, his fingers sliding against your clit and rubbing in just the right way that his cock hadn’t been. Your whines increase in volume even as Steve starts to breath harder once again, his cock somehow rising to the attention like he’s a teenage boy. You bite your lip to try and hold back your noises before Elvis leans against you, whispering softly in your ear.

“Scream for me, darlin’. Scream so he knows who ya really belong to. Who ya always gonna belong to no matter what happens.”

Those are the magic words that have your hands moving to his biceps and clawing at them as you come with a shout of Elvis’s name, the intensity causing aftershocks and shivers to flow through your body even as you sag against him, allowing him to use you until he pulls out, coming on your stomach.

Elvis moves your head to face Steve and smirks as he pets your hair. “Think he learned, darlin’? Think he’s gonna take care of ya?”

Your eyes take in Steve’s face and his flushed cheeks. They glide down his body where you see his clenched fists and his cock against his slacks and you let out a small giggle. “I think, Daddy, he needs another lesson. Let him touch this time, though. Make it a little more hands on.”

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @amydarcimarie, @justrae9903, @thegettingbyp2 i will probably use this same tag list for all of this wet hot summer minus any subtractions of people i know don't want austin fics. or if i'm not sure a kink is your jam.

#elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #steve binder x reader #steve binder x you #steve binder x y/n #ally's wet hot smut summer #ally writes #maybe that's the right amount of tags?#who knows.

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the-ravenist · 2 years

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Fic lineup

Fic title,

pairing/relationship type,

fic type, small summary, released order

That's my Wife

Darce!Steve Binder x Fem!Black!Reader

Slight crack, fluff, slight hurt/comfort

After the event of Kennedy being shot, Steve asks his wife, (Y/N), to help him. Not only is (Y/N) here to comfort herself and her husband, but to help Elvis make a rightful comeback. The group minus Steve is shocked at what she can do. order #2

UNTITLED

Benedict Bridgerton x Black!DG!Reader

crack, fluff, drama

Chronological order of events between (Y/N) and Benedict, where their relationship grows from strangers to possible lovers. Where Benedict love at first sight. (suggestive dialogue, sexual tension, reader is a boss ass butch) order #4

My Angel

Warren Worthington III x GN!Black!Reader

comfort, fluff, feel good, slight crack

Just a look into a much-needed comfort day between Warren and (Y/N), poor (Y/N) needs it after being overstimulated. Warren will always care for his partner, even if that means black-mailing people so that can make them mozzarella sticks. order #1

order completed!

Lookn' Sexy

Five Hargreeves x GN!Black!Reader

crack, slight angst, slight comfort

A reader insert for S3 ep3 instead this time reader isn't a Hargreeeves, extremely short, nonconfident, or that much a simp, not a basic Y/N. (no smut or extremely suggestive dialogue, five and reader are 17) order #3

#five x reader #five x black reader #black reader #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington x black reader #steve binder x reader #steve binder x black!reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #x reader #xmen x reader #tua x reader #elvis 2022 x reader #x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black writer #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader

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nicoline1998enilocin · 3 months

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When I'm with you, I feel like I'm home

PAIRING ⇒ Girlfriend!Natasha Romanoff x Girlfriend!Florist!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT ⇒ 1.5K

SUMMARY ⇒ Getting married is something Natasha has not even considered until she met you and fell head over heels in love. Now, it's all she can think about; she wants nothing more than to call you her wife.

RATING ⇒ Teen (T)

WARNINGS/TAGS ⇒ Established relationship ~ Girlfriends, use of pet name (Printsessa, Detka), tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N ⇒ This one-shot is my first attempt at writing for my favorite Russian spy and assassin, Natasha Romanoff! A part of this story is based on this Instagram reel, which is the perfect opportunity to put it to use. I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this; you're an angel 💜

EVENTS Masterlist ⇒ @fluffbruary ⇒ Engagement Masterlist ⇒ @anyfandomaubingo ⇒ Florist!Reader Masterlist ⇒ @lgbtqbingo ⇒ Free space

Banners: Yours truly ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ GIF: Source

Main Masterlist ⇒ Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

The day you met Natasha is engraved into your memory as one of the happiest days in your life because even though you didn't know it then, she would become a more significant part of your life than you could have imagined.

It's a slow day in your flower shop, but it's nice to take a break from the rush you always have during summer and early fall - also known as peak wedding season. There are still weddings throughout the rest of the year where you will be providing the flowers, and you have an appointment today for one of those.

A few fresh bouquets are now proudly standing in the front of the store, waiting to be picked up and gifted or put in a vase and be the center of attention in every room they'll be standing in. There's still a little time before your appointment, so you get a binder with different photos ready, sweep the floor, and tidy up the rest of the store.

Not much later, the tiny bell above your door rings, and you turn your head to see a long, broad-shouldered blonde man and a small but equally strong-looking woman next to him. You instantly recognize them as Captain Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, and Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow—two of the original six Avengers.

''Hi, and welcome to Blooming Garden!'' you say in a cheery voice as you put the broom to the side, ready to greet them properly for their appointment. As you approach them, you take in Natasha's slender form, and you can't help but feel a warmth coursing through your veins and settling on your cheeks as you shake Natasha's hand and introduce yourself.

Her eyes roam over your body, admiring the dress you're wearing. It is a very flattering dress, perfectly accentuating every curve of your body. When she looks at your face, she can't help but feel like she's looking at an angel, as your soft features instantly make her feel like she came home. Your soft, pink lips give a graceful smile before you lead the way for the appointment, which is over too soon for her liking.

Steve paid the down payment for the flowers they had chosen, and after one last goodbye, they walked out of the store, leaving you behind with a bit of an empty feeling in your chest, like something was missing. It turns out Natasha had the same feeling, too, and not long after, the little bell rang again, and she walked back in, this time with her number written on a small piece of paper.

''If you want to go out for coffee sometime, you can text me on this number,'' she says before quickly running out the door again and on her way to her emergency mission. She couldn't leave without leaving a piece of herself behind, afraid she would never see you again if she didn't go back. Ultimately, she's thrilled she did indeed go back.

That same evening, you sent her a text, and even though it took a few days for her to reply, your heart skipped a beat when you saw her name pop up on your phone screen. You met for coffee and even went on a few more dates after that until you couldn't take it anymore, and you asked her to be your girlfriend.

You're visiting Natasha at the Avengers Compound today, and even though all the Avengers knew you and Natasha were friends, they didn't realize just how close you two were. They accidentally walked in on both of you as you asked her to be your girlfriend.

She's seated on the couch, her back against the plush cushions of the large piece of furniture, and you're straddling her lap with both your knees on either side of her legs. Her fiery red hair hangs loosely around her head, and you can't stop running your hands through the soft locks. Her hands are placed on your waist as she occassionally tickles you, pulling a fit of giggles from your chest that she will never get enough of.

''Nat, stop! I can't ask you to be my girlfriend if you keep tickling me!'' you say between giggles, and when you notice her eyes going wide, you instantly realize what happened.

''A-Are you- I mean, you want to be my girlfriend?'' Natasha asks, a hint of insecurity laced in the way she phrases the question. Your face drops at her words, and you guide your hands to cup her cheeks, looking straight into her eyes as you carefully express your following words.

''Yes, I do want to be your girlfriend, more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. Being with you makes me feel like I can be myself, and life is just a little brighter with you around. Whether we're hanging out together in my flower shop or doing silly things anywhere else, there's no one I'd rather want to do that with than you, Nat. So, what do you say? Will you make me the happiest woman in the world and be my girlfriend?''

She looks at you with pure love and adoration in her eyes, and she nods her head before leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss that has both your hearts soaring. At that time, you didn't realize all the other Avengers had an entire show because they were curious about the giggling from the living room not long ago.

They all start clapping and whooping in excitement, and you pull away before burying your face in Natasha's neck, a broad smile adorning your face. From that moment on, you two are practically inseparable, and being away from her during her missions is always a challenge, but the reunion is worth it every single time.

Nearly four years later, Natasha plans to take the next step in your relationship. She never thought about getting married, but you have shifted something inside her that has her wanting to call you her wife. Whereas she previously never cared about anyone that deeply, you have shown her a love she never even thought existed, and she wants to bring your passion to the next level.

And so, after a few long months of planning, the day has finally arrived. The engagement ring is in the pocket of her jeans as you're taking a stroll over the beach in Florida, where you're currently for a weekend getaway together. Your fingers are laced together, and your sundress flows in the soft breeze from the ocean.

''Printsessa, can I talk to you about something?'' Natasha asks as she stops you in your tracks before going to stand in front of you. The sunset casts a beautiful light over both of you, and Natasha's hair has a fiery glow, making her look even more stunning than usual.

''Of course, is something wrong?'' you ask with furrowed brows, but she kisses your lips softly to calm your mind before starting off her story.

''Some souls instantly click. Words can't quite explain whether you're lovers, best friends, soulmates, or something so special. You accept this person for everything they are, and they would never let you be anything other than your beautiful, imperfect self. These are the souls you encounter and know in the first moment that you were supposed to cross paths,'' Natasha starts, and there are already tears welling in your eyes as you realize what's happening.

"Your presence makes me feel safe and calm like I am home whenever I'm with you. You're undoubtedly the most special I've had the privilege to love - no distance, time, or person could come between our bond. Your kindness, softness, sincerity, and unconditional love make me feel better because life is better with you in it. Your soul is my happy place, comfort, sunshine, and everything, and I could not imagine life without you in it. And because of that, I want to ask you something.''

Natasha lets go of your hands before wiping away some of her tears, sinking on one knee after getting the ring out of her pocket. The sunset casting an angelic glow over you makes the moment perfect.

''Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest soul in the universe and become my wife?''

''Yes, Detka, I will marry you!'' you exclaim, and when the ring is put on your finger, she jumps up and wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a breathtaking kiss that has your heart going a mile a minute from pure excitement.

When she pulls away, the realization sinks in, and the happy tears can't stop flowing down your cheeks. You're going to marry the love of your life, and you can't wait for the entire world to know how much you love each other. Life was great before you met Natasha, but this moment completes it.

You both continue your walk down the beach, walking into the sunset together. Today marks the start of the rest of your lives together, and you can't wait to see what life will bring your way.

#fluffbruary 2024 #anyfandomaubingo #lgbtqbingo #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha #natasha fanfiction #natasha x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha fluff

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sagesolsticewrites · 1 year

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Guitar Man pt 2 | Steve Binder x fem!reader

You and Steve go on your first date, and deal with being an official item on set.

a/n: I’ve discovered I love writing for Steve so, so much y’all, Dacre really did something here. (This has been unfinished in my docs since August, y'all. Oops :/ Honestly, idk where to take it from the point I’ve got it at now, but if y'all have any suggestions after reading, I'd love to hear them!)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: a couple swear words, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Read Part 1 here!

Masterlist | add yourself to my taglist here!

“Hold still!” Priscilla reminds you as she drags the eyeliner pencil along your lashline.

“I am!” you whine, looking up as she moves to line your lower lid. “I’m just nervous.”

“You’ve got nothin’ to be worried about, Y/N,” she assures you, stepping back to assess her work, “Steve is absolutely head over heels for you, and you two are already friends, right? You’ve already gotten to know each other, the hard part’s done!”

“Yeah we’re friends,” you reach over to apply your favorite red lipstick, and continue “but we’ve only really talked at work. I’ve never seen him outside the studio, what if it’s completely different?”

Priscilla’s reply of “How many times do I have to tell you, you two are already such good friends, not to mention you’re both absolutely head over heels for each other! The conversation will flow naturally, I promise,” is muffled as you step over to the closet to pick out an outfit. You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard, but you don't want to veer too casual, either…

Your train of thought is interrupted as Priscilla reaches past you and yanks out a gorgeous deep red minidress. “This one,” she declares, thrusting it into your arms.

“Cilla, I haven’t worn this in forever!” you protest. You could barely remember why you packed it in the first place. “Won’t this be a little much?”

She waves off your concern, “Of course not! You’re gonna look gorgeous,” she assures you as she shoves you back into the bathroom to change.

You step out a few minutes later, nervously tugging at the hem. “You’re sure this isn’t too much, Cilla?”

Priscilla’s jaw drops as you step into her line of sight, “Oh Y/N, you look gorgeous!! Steve won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” she squeals.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door and Lucy calls through it excitedly, “Steve’s here! He’s in the lobby!”

A wave of nerves washes over you, and Priscilla takes your hands to steady you, “Hey, you got this, alright? Don’t overthink it, it’s just Steve.”

You take a deep breath, nodding, “Right. I got this.” You squeeze her hands gratefully, “Thank you, Cilla.”

“Anytime, honey,” she beams. “Now,” she leads you out towards the elevator, pressing your clutch into your hands, “have fun!”

You give her one last wave as the elevator doors close, and step out into the gilded lobby a few moments later.

You fidget with the simple gold pendant at your throat, scanning the room for any sign of Steve. Eventually you spot him, seated in a velvet armchair in a corner, and make your way over. You’re about halfway there when he turns and spots you, his jaw dropping as he stands and walks over to meet you.

“Hi,” you say, a nervous smile plastered on your face.

“Hi,” he replies, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in the dress hugging your curves in all the right places, “You look— um— wow.”

“Thank you,” you giggle at his reaction, your nervous smile melting into a softer, more genuine one. “I was afraid it might be a bit much,” you confess.

He shakes his head as he takes your hand and begins leading you out to the parking lot, “Trust me, you look absolutely stunning,” he says softly, never once taking his eyes off you.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you attempt to deflect his attention. “Well you don’t look too bad yourself,” you smile, taking in the dark blue suit he was wearing, accented by a white ascot.

“Well thank you,” he chuckles as you come up to a white Mustang. He steps forward and opens the passenger door for you, gesturing politely, “Milady.”

“Why thank you, my good sir,” you tease as you slide in, and he closes the door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant is a short one, but even so, you feel all your nervousness and anxiety melt away as the two of you converse easily, trading jokes and stories.

The ease you feel continues throughout the night, and it almost feels as though the two of you are simply having another one of your talks during a break in rehearsals. Sure, you’re in a candlelit restaurant and not a stuffy studio, but you’re absolutely positive that you’d be able to talk with him about anything, anywhere.

Eventually, the conversation turns to how the two of you grew up.

“I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this,” Steve begins, “but how did you get into dancing in the first place?”

“Well, it started when my parents signed me up for ballet classes when I was a kid,” you explain. “It started off as a way for me to make friends, because I was so shy, but then I just fell in love with it. Even after the friends I’d made there originally stopped doing it, I kept going. And I decided I never wanted to stop, so I made it my job.” You end with a laugh, glancing up to gauge his reaction.

Steve is looking at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen on his face, as if he’s seeing you for the first time, and you feel your cheeks flush under his attention.

“What?” you question, hoping your flushed face isn’t too noticeable.

“Nothing, I just…” he shakes his head, the softness in his eyes remaining constant, “I really love hearing you talk about dancing. You light up, it’s like… you make me love it as much as you do even though I’ve never danced in my life.”

You laugh softly, your heart swelling at the compliment, and there’s a sweet moment of silence between the two of you before you finally speak up again, “So what about you? How did you get into directing?”

He launches into a story about falling in love with movies from a young age, which then turns into a conversation about your favorite movies as children.

Eventually, the two of you are back at your hotel. Steve walks you back to the front doors like the gentleman he is, despite your feeble protests, and pauses by one of the pillars near the entrance.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” he says softly, eyes shining under the golden light of the hotel.

“I did, too,” you smile, leaning against the pillar to take some of the weight off your heels.

He smiles, drinking in the image of you as comfortable under the light of the hotel as you are under a spotlight in the studio, and leans in to press a sweet, brief kiss to your lips.

You grin against his lips and tangle your fingers in his as he pulls away, preventing him from getting too far.

He lets you keep him in place with a soft chuckle, and leans in again…

But stops, so his lips are just barely brushing yours and says, almost sadly, “I should probably get going.”

“Do you have to?” You reply with a mock pout, then shake your head and continue in a more sincere tone, “No, I get it. You’ve probably got lots of work to do. I’ll see you back at the studio, then?” You say softly.

“I’ll see you then,” he nods, and lifts your hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before releasing you. He heads back to his car as you go back inside the hotel, and just before you enter you see him give one last wave goodbye before driving away.

You wave back, and head back to your room, practically giddy from the events of the night.

When you get back to your room, Priscilla is all too happy to hear you gush about your date.

“He was so sweet, Cilla, really I— hey, what’s that look for?” you ask, noting the soft, knowing look she’s giving you.

She giggles in response. “Nothin’, just… this,” she gestures to you sprawled across your bed, a wide smile on your face and a happy flush in your cheeks, “is what I was like after my first few dates with Elvis,” she smiles.

You feel your cheeks heat up even more, “Really? I mean, of course you were, but…” you trail off, unsure how to voice the implications of that statement.

She hums affirmatively, then after a moment of hesitation says “I didn’t wanna bring this up before because I wasn’t sure if this’d make you more nervous, but… you know how I was helping you get ready tonight? Elvis was actually doing the same for Steve,” she says softly, then adds teasingly, “And I bet he’s gushing about you to him just like you are to me right now.”

“Oh hush,” you dismiss her teasing statement.

“No, I’m serious! He’s probably all,” she falls into an approximation of Steve’s voice, “‘Gosh, EP, you shoulda seen the dress she was wearing—“

“—I think I was actually speechless when I saw her,” Steve tells Elvis, who’s listening with a smile on his face, “And I swear, talking to her is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. We just flow so naturally, you know? And the way she talks about dancing…” he sighs, picturing the way you lit up as you talked about the beginnings of your passion for dance, “I could honestly listen to her talk about it forever.”

Elvis takes in the look on his friend’s face: one remarkably similar, he’s sure, to the one he has when he talks about Cilla. “I’m glad you had a good time, Steve,” he says with a genuine smile, “it sounds like it went really well.”

“Thanks, EP,” Steve replies with a smile, jolting out of his lovesickness just enough to turn his attention to his friend, “I really, really like her.”

“I know you do,” Elvis replies with a chuckle, “and I know she really, really likes you, too. But Steve,” his tone turns serious, “you may be a very good friend of mine, but Y/N’s like a little sister to me, alright? I’ve known her for about 20 years now, and if anything happened to her I…” he trails off, his emotions getting the better of him for the moment, before continuing seriously, “Just… don’t break her heart, alright?”

Steve nods somberly, “Of course, Elvis. I would never do anything intentional to hurt her, I swear. She clearly means a lot to you, and… and she does to me, too.”

“Good,” Elvis nods, and stands to leave, “I’m happy for ya, Steve. See you at the studio tomorrow, loverboy,” he teases before stepping out the door, leaving Steve alone.

You arrive at the studio the next day practically giddy, your mind filled with thoughts of the night before. Some of the girls on your crew come over to ask about how your date went, and where Marie would usually make some snooty comment, she is noticeably absent, which isn’t too much of a surprise; you assume she’s in one of her holier-than-thou, “above all the petty gossip” moods today. Once you’ve satisfied your friends with your explanation— though you’re sure they’ll be back asking more questions in no time— you set about getting ready for the performance.

As you glance around the set, you spot Steve in the control room, looking extremely focused. There’s a hard set to his jaw and an adorable little furrow in his brow that tells you he’s thinking hard about whatever he’s doing, and dare you say… It's extremely attractive.

Before your thoughts can stray too far down that path, though, you shake yourself, and settle for managing to catch his eye and give him a little wave before taking your place on set.

Steve, for what it’s worth, does his absolute best to focus on his job at the moment. Really, he does. But how is he supposed to focus when you’re down there looking like that; going through the movements as if they came as naturally to you as breathing, completely in your element… indescribably beautiful, in Steve’s eyes.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts as something smacks his arm, and he turns to see Bones looking at him with a single raised eyebrow.

“Quit gawking at your girlfriend, Steve, we’ve got work to do!”

“I wasn’t—” he protests, then changes the subject entirely at the knowing look on Bones’s face, “Whatever, just pull up two.”

Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @anangelwhodidntfall @austin-butlers-gf @butlersluvbot @killerqueenfan @kittenlittle24 @beauvibaby @kingelviscreole @justjacesstuff @sweetheartlizzie07 @coldonexx @londonalozzy @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @djconde58 @mirandastuckinthe80s @luke-my-skywalker @tubble-wubble @apparently-sunshine @kisseskae @whotfatemywaffles @gyomei-tiddies @friedwangsss @shynovelist @sassy-ahsoka-tano @she-is-juniper @hallecarey1 @adoreyouusugar @iheartcbe @nora-nexus-34 @finelineskies @dontbesussis @fangirl-imagines

#steve binder x reader #steve binder #elvis 2022 #elvis (2022)#dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader #elvis movie #elvis baz luhrmann

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wasawattpadkid · 1 year

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Housewife

Part - 2

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

If you heard the names Casey or Steve one more time you might go insane. Stu ran up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist. "Boo!" The binder you held in your arms unceremoniously hit the floor. "Let go of me weirdo." You struggled but he didn't let go. "Did ya hear about Casey and Steve?" You could scream. The heel of your Mary Jane shoes made contact with his toes making him lose his grip. With a huff you picked up your belongings. "Why is everyone so obsessed with them?" Stu cocked an eyebrow at you. "Uh because they were slit open like pigs in a butcher shop?"

"I get that trust me thats all anyone can talk about. But you can't act all sad like you've lost a loved one and then talk in great detail about what organ fell out where. It's inhumane." He leaned back on the lockers listening to you rant. "Yesterday was a complete shit show. That Steve guy was a prick to me and he didn't even know my name yet. So he can't be the saint everyone's making him out to be. Murders happen everywhere all the time these two aren't going to change anything."

"Interesting take from Marry Poppins. What's got your panties in a bunch today?" You opened your locker putting away your things for lunch. "Some asshole started talking to me in 2nd period about how in a movie I'd be a prime suspect because the murders started when I got here." Randy. Stu knew the moment you brought up movies. "Well you did say Steve was an asshat, that's motive Y/n." He was right but let's be real here. You couldn't take on an athlete if you were paid. You rubbed your face in frustration. "Relax I know it's not you. You'd cry if you got blood on that cute little dress of yours." It really wouldn't matter you knew how to take practically any stain out of a piece of clothing.

"You'd be surprised." Just as the words left your lips a kid bumped into you knocking you into Stu. His hands conveniently found your hips. "Watch where you're walking asshole!" Stu shouted with a laugh. You pulled yourself away from him trying to straighten your dress with your hands. "Hey I'm meeting Tatum and everybody by the water fountain, you in?" The idea of being around more people wasn't ideal. Stu could see on your face you didn't want to. "Oh come on Billy's going to be there." He wasn't dumb. Billy was an attractive guy, he was well aware of that. All the girls had a thing for Billy, you were no exception.

"If I go you can't just completely ignore me because I only know you two." Stu shut your locker for you as you continued to walk. "Ignore you? I could never. You could sit on my lap if you wanted to." You fake gagged making him laugh. "I don't think your girlfriend would like that." He just shrugged his shoulders. "Eh I do what I want." This doesn't surprise you. "You are a peace of work." The doors opened letting the light bombard your skin. "Picasso baby!" Stu shouted as he grabbed your hand pulling you towards the fountain.

"Fresh meat everybody!" He declared as you stood uncomfortably in front of everyone. Billy looked more than unamused at your appearance. "Y/n right? You're in my math class?" You nodded at the girl with brown hair. She stuck out her hand for you to shake. "I'm Sydney Prescott." Billy shook his head with a smile. "Nice to meet you Sydney." She smiled up at you and returned the sentiment. "She's the killer I'll bet anybody 10 bucks." If looks could kill he'd be six feet under. "Randy knock it off. You think this adorable face could murder?" Stu pinched your cheeks with a grin on his lips. "Not a chance." He let go and found a seat next to Tatum. "Plus there's no way a girl could've killed them."

"Scoot over let her sit down." Billy huffed but did what Sydney told him. "That is so sexist. The killer could easily be a female, Basic Instinct." You nodded in Tatum's defense. "That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same thing." Stu looked over at all of us before looking at Tatum. "Yeah Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. The fact is it takes like, a man to do something like that." Sydney looked down at the ground uncomfortable with the conversation.

"I don't know feminine rage is pretty scary. Do you know how many cheating husbands get stabbed to death or fed to the dogs by the wife. The fact is women know how to get a job done quickly and quietly. Men get cocky and want to play around that's how they get caught." Randy snapped his finger point at you. "See what I mean!" Stu laughed and Billy just looked at you with intrigue.

"How do you gut someone?" The honest tone of Sydney's voice made everyone quite down. "You take a knife and you slit them from groin to sternum." Billy sat up seemingly done with the gorey details. "Hey, it's called tact fuckrag." Billy looked at Stu his eyes once again saying more than his words did.

"Change of subject, I like your dress it's very Hepburn." Tatum spoke up. You cleared your throat trying to shake off that uneasy feeling. "Thanks I made it myself." She sat up in shock. "No way! You should totally make me one." If only it were that simple. "You think I'd look good in something like that babe?" She asked Stu and if you knew anything about him he'd give a smartass answer. "I think it'd look better on my bedroom floor but hey." She smacked his arm as everyone shared a laugh.

Stu continued rambling on about the murders with Randy. You were sick of hearing about it and it appeared so was Sydney. Her hand rested on Billy's knee as he whispered something to him. He nodded as she left a kiss on his cheek. The moment she left his demeanor darkened even more. He looked truly angry at this point. You assumed it was because Stu had upset her. Billy leaned next to you just enough to hit Stu's arm. "Ow man what gives? I was joking!" Billy was the next to get up followed by Randy.

"Hey Y/n? Are you doing anything Saturday? Me and Syd were going to hang out this weekend you could totally join." You knew Stu and Billy had plans to hang out with you and by the look on Stu's face he'd be upset if you said yes to Tatum. "Can't. My dad's going to be gone this weekend so I have to house sit." The smile on Stu's face was far from innocent. "You think with a killer on the loose you should be home alone?" She had a point but you doubted there was a serial killer running around. "I know how to lock my doors I'll be fine. Promise."

The school day went by fast thankfully. But once again everyone crowded around your car. "I'm not giving you a ride today." You shook your head. "I was thinking we could all go riding around maybe go to the mall? Someone's got to give you a tour." Stu said gesturing to the friend group you know found yourself a part of. "You don't have to of course." Sydney chimed in. She was probably the nicest one out of the group. "Who's got money for gas?" In an instant Stu handed you a crumpled up 100 dollar bill. "That should cover it and don't ask where its been." He noticed the shock on your face. "Don't worry there's more where that came from." He winked at you and Tatum rolled her eyes. You shoved the bill in your purse snapping it shut.

"Ive got work today so I'll catch you all later." Randy said as he walked away. You felt a little bad you were relieved at his absence. "Okay I've got bench seats so three people can sit up front and three in the back. "I call back seat with Stu." Tatum pulled at his shirt dragged him to the back. "No doing anything weird back there this is my dad's car." Tatum just laughed and Stu stuck his tounge out shaking it at you in protest. "Oh shit I forgot I've got to study for that exam tomorrow. I have to get home." Stu started to boo and Tatum echoed her boyfriend. "We'll only be gone a couple hours Syd."

"I have to pass this test Billy. You go ahead and go. You guys have fun!" She grabbed her bag and headed off towards the busses. Billy sat in the passenger seat again same aggravated look on his face. "Would it kill you to smile?" You asked lightheartedly. He turned to you flashing the fakest smile you'd ever seen. "See was that so hard?" Sarcasm dripping off your words. "Incredibly."

The mall wasn't hard to find after Tatum gave you some directions. You weren't sure how this little outing would go. On one hand it was nice having friends and spending time with people but on the other you and Billy were third wheeling. You had only been through half the stores and Stu already managed to spend an egregious amount. "Ooh help me pick out a set." Tatum said pulling Stu into the Victoria's Secret. Billy followed them in so you had no choice but to follow suit. "Do you have a boyfriend?" Billy asked as he touched the lace fabric on a teddy. "Odd question to ask considering you have a girlfriend."

"Fuck me for trying to make conversation." You laughed and decided to play along. "I do. We're trying the whole long distance thing." Billy found it hard to make eye contact with you. Choosing to play with and pick up anything around him to keep his hands busy. "He's probably cheating you know? Teenage boys do that." You're beginning to think both him and Stu have absolutely no filter. "Probably but it's not the like the guys around here are any better. I mean look at you and Stu." You're eyes flickered over to Stu holding up a bra to his chest declaring he was a girl. With a shake of the head you turn back to Billy. His eyes met with yours and for the first time he didn't advert his gaze. "Do you wear anything like this?" He gestured towards the thongs and see through bras.

"Nah I'm more into ropes and whips." You joke thinking if anyone would find it funny he would. His eye grew just a tiny bit wider surprised at your response. His lips quirked upwards a small smirk playing at his mouth. "I'm kidding!" Your face grew hot as he looked back down at what you were wearing. "No you're not. You're a freak. It's always the nice girls." Scoffing at that you wiped your hands down your dress trying to pull it further down your legs.

He smiled knowing he was making you uncomfortable. "You're a real creep you know that?" He held up in hands in fake surrender. "You caught me." Tatum shouted your name from across the store. "That's my que." You had no idea where she was or what she was doing. "She's in the dressing room I offered to help but ya know." He raised his eyebrows suggestively as if you didn't already know what he meant.

"Tatum it's me." You knocked on the door and it opened immediately. Her arm stuck out grabbing you and pulling you in. "You've got to stop doing that." You said in a hushed voice. "Opinions?" She said as she spun around practically naked. The red lace nightie left little to the imagination. "Um I think it looks cute. It doesn't cover much does it?" You ask and she laughed. "That's the point silly. You don't think it makes me look fat?" She was so skinny you worried about were her organs were let alone be over weight. "You look fine hun. I'm gonna go check on the guys." She said alright and let you slip out of the dressing room.

"We got you something." Stu shook the bag in front of your face startling you. "He got it." Billy spoke up as you took the bag from Stu. "No you grabbed it and said it would-" A swift punch to the ribs shut the blonde boy up. "Don't open it till later." Billy said and for some reason you agreed. "Is she about done in there?" The door opened and Tatum eagerly ran to the checkout desk. Stu like a puppy followed right behind her leaving you and Billy alone again.

"What did you get me?" Once again his eyes were on the floor. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He quipped his eyes finally reaching your face. "I would. That's why I asked." You both smiled at the small reenactment. "You didn't have to get me anything especially from here." He grabbed the bag from you tying the ribbon strings together. "Don't get too excited it's not a ball gag or anything." You smacked his arm snatching the bag back. "Plus I didn't pay for it. Rich boy over there did." He pointed at Stu.

"I'm hitting up Spencer gifts who's coming with me?" Going into that store with Stu was probably the dumbest thing you could do. "I'm in." You said mentally regretting it. "I'll go where you go." Tatum said as she hugged his arm. The last one to go was Billy. "Let's just get this over with." Stu practically ran to the opposite end of the mall with Tatum tossed over his shoulder. "There's no way your feet aren't killing you." Billy said looking down at your heels.

"I grew up in high heels mister. I could run in these bad boys if I had to." You weren't kidding. Growing up in a household where you had church every Sunday and you only had one pair of sneakers, you could run in heels. "I doubt that." He was getting more comfortable around you. Billy didn't even realize it. He used to be fun. He used to screw around and let loose like Stu does. Since his mom left and the world seemed to collapse around him he just had one to many stabs in the back.

"Wanna race?" He looked at you with a childlike curiosity. He would win he knew that much. Considering his murderous tendencies he could beat you in ten seconds flat. "I run to the store and if you catch me before I get there you win. What do you say?" Before he could answer you took off running. It was supposed to be fun for the both of you. A little game of cat and mouse. What you didn't realize was how seriously he would take it. The simple sound of his boots gaining up on you was terrifying. Your laughter stopped as you sped up.

You ran around people, who were then pushed out of the way by Billy. This was no longer a game. He was trying to catch you. The click of your heels got faster and faster till you ran into someone. "Woah there what's going on?" You looked up and saw Stu waiting at the door of Spencer's. You won. Billy was just two steps behind you the entire time. "Damnit!" He exclaimed appearing genuinely pissed that he didn't grab you. Tatum chimed in asking him what the hell was going on. After all to them it seemed like something horribly wrong had happened. "We were just playing. I told him we'd race each other." You looked back at Billy trying to catch his breath.

"Billy Loomis playing a game? Now that's unheard of." Stu gasped as he walked in the store. You approached Billy deciding to check on him. Your hand touched his shoulders as they heaved up and down. "Are you okay?" His hand wrapped around your wrist tighten enough to bare pain. "I'm fine." He flung your hand away, leaving you behind as he walked in the store. So much for that. It was hot and cold with him. You couldn't figure it out and you weren't sure if you wanted to.

Stu and Tatum were over in the novelty section making dirty jokes and just getting on each other's nerves. You didn't know where Billy went. You walked to the back of the store ignoring the adult toy section. You looked down at your stockings noticing the big rip on your right leg. "Shit!" You cursed picking at the hole. Going through the short selection of stockings they had to offer you finally settled on a pair. They were thigh highs which is something you usually didn't wear. Victoria's secret bag and stockings in hand you walked up to the cashier and paid.

Afterwards you met up with Stu and Tatum who were as equally ready to leave as you were. "Where's Billy?" She asked. "I have no idea." Stu leaned over trying to peak into the Spencer bag. "You get something from the back?" You did but you weren't going to be honest about it. "I did. I got it for Tatum though. She deserves at least six inches." She started to laugh as Stu acted all dramatic. "Ha ha really funny. Go ahead laugh it up. I'll have you know she's perfectly content with what she's got." Tatum shook her head making you laugh even harder. "You guys ready to go?"

"Where'd you go?" You asked Billy as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Bathroom." You're not sure what you did to piss him off. Is he butthurt that you beat him in a race? That can't be it he's not 5. He shouldn't be upset by such a small thing. "Let's go bitches!" Stu and Tatum walked hand in hand once again leaving you and Billy to talk. "Did I do something wrong?" You ask gingerly not to upset him further. "No." Another one word answer.

"We can race again. I'll let you catch me this time. I'll play dead and everything if you'd like." You laughed trying everything in your power to make him tolerate you again. "You would?" You weren't being serious but if that's what it took so be it. "If you'll stop being mad at me I will." That somehow put a smile on his face. "Should I start running?" You joke and he actually chuckles. "No no. We'll save that for later."

Everyone makes their way to your car getting in the same seats as before. "I know where Stu lives where do you two live?" You sit your bags in the floor next to Billy's black combat boots. "I'm going to her house before I go home so you can take me there. She's going to take me home before they pick up Sydney." She proceeds to giggle at the admission. "Just drop me off at Stu's" Billy says as he slicks his hair back. "Do you live at Stu's place?" You start the car leaving the mall in your rearview mirror. "Stu's parents are never home so they practically live together."

Billy looked out the window not making eye contact with anyone in the car. "Means I throw the best damn parties our school has ever seen." Stu and Tatum rejoiced in the back. That fact left more questions than answers. It made sense why Stu seemed to be so flippant with money. It even explained his overall behavior. Billy's case however was different. How bad was it at his house that he needed to live with Stu? In all honesty you felt bad for both the boys.

"Hey Billy open the glove compartment and play something." He did as told until he saw the contents of the glove box. "What the hell?" He said as he pulled out an 8 track. "Listen my dad had an 8 track player put in back in the 70s so that's all I got." With a smile on his face he dug through all the boxes.

Pushing the tape into the car AC/DC blasted through the speakers. "How'd I know you'd pick that one?" He carefully put all the tapes back where he got them. "I have good taste what can I say?" He shrugged. First stop was Tatum's house. She gave you the directions which you quickly found out she lives on the same street as you. "Your lights on upstairs is your dad home? I saw your car in the driveway this morning." Tatum asked pointing at your house. Fuck. "So this is where the mysterious Betty Crocker lives." Stu laughed putting on his best Vincent Price voice. Billy was just satisfied in knowing where you live. "Yeah my dad is. He's probably sleeping though he's got to get up early in the morning which means I've have to get home so scoot." You waved the couple out of your car quickly.

You pulled away getting just a couple houses down the road before your car began to stall. "What's wrong?" Billy asked as you look around. "I don't know it hasn't done this before." You turned the car off and on again but nothing happened. "Does it have gas?" You didn't get gas. The crumpled 100 was still shoved in your purse. "Son of a bitch." You cursed as you hit the steering wheel. "Hop out I've got to go get the gas can out of my garage."

"Do I get a house tour?" You stayed quiet genuinely upset at your ignorance. "Listen when we go inside I want you to be quiet. Okay?" Billy nodded as you unlocked your front door. "Holy shi-" You immediately covered his mouth. "I told you to be quiet." Slowly you pulled your hand away and he stepped into the house. "What year do you think it is?" You shut the door as quietly as possible knowing your dad could get up at anytime. "Oh shut up." Billy looked around at the old pictures, the old decor, really the old everything. Billy didn't come from rich parents like Stu. Your house was definitely bigger and better but it didn't have the rich person feel. Billy's house wasn't the problem for him, it was the people in it. It used to be a happy home but all that was waiting for him now was alcohol and fights.

While you sat your bags down he looked around the place. It looked like no one had bought anything new for the place since the 70s. The TV in the living room was 90% wood and the kitchen was a tacky yellow. All the appliances on the counters had to be at least 20 years old. Hell the phone on the wall was a rotary dial phone. Billy felt like he was walking into the Myers house.

"Let's go!" You whisper yelled at him the heavy gas can pulling on your arm. "Give it to me." Billy grabbed the can with ease helping you out the front door. He went ahead and filled the car up for you so you could run the empty can back inside. "Thank you." You said with a huff throwing yourself in the driver seat. "It's nothing." He replied already ready to go. Before you did anything you peeled the heels off your feet tossing them in the back seat. The next to come off were your ripped stockings. Billy watched as your upper thigh was exposed. He could see the hem of your pink underwear before you caught him.

"Perv." You smiled knowing he had to be a little flustered. He just shook his head looking at the ceiling. You threw the stockings in the back seat with your shoes. Billy cleared his throat trying to start up a conversation."Your house is nice." You breathed out a laugh as you started the car. "You don't have to lie."

Billy's demeanor changed once again. Now that it was just you and him he had one leg bent on the seat so his body could face towards you. Even though your eyes were on the road you could feel his burning holes in you. "I mean it. It's different. Better than all those rich bitches we go to school with." He wasn't lying. It was hard to find anyone who had an actual personality these days.

"I know it's not everyone's cup of tea. My dad doesn't really care what I do with the house as long as there is food on the table when he gets home." Billy bit his lip in thought. "So you did all of that?" He found it impressive to say the least. "Not really. I haven't messed with much since my grandparents passed. The way the kept things always seemed nice as a kid. And I don't see the sense in wasting money on new stuff when I've got perfectly good old stuff that works." He saw the way your eyes grew wide when Stu handed you that hundred. You're not a money person. You were modest. Going through the mall you only bought one thing for yourself while Tatum begged for everything she saw.

"How often is your dad gone?" He asked. A dangerous question to answer if Billy's asking it. "He can be gone for weeks at a time. He's a truck driver. He goes where his boss tells him to go." The car goes quiet for a little while. Luckily for you it's comfortable. "What about you? How's your mom and dad?" You meant nothing hateful by it and he knew that. "I live with my dad too. My parents split up." You could feel him putting those walls back up. It was night and day with Billy. Slowly you car came to a stop in Stu's driveway. "My mom isn't in the picture either. You know if that shit ever starts to bother you, you can call me. As long as your girlfriends okay with it that is." You grabbed a pen out of the glove compartment gently pulling Billy's hand towards your lap.

His hand sat on top of your right thigh as you touched the tip of the pen to your tongue. Carefully your wrote down your phone number where the numbers were visible. Billy for the first time in awhile, he was the one who was scared. Scared of moving even the tiniest bit. A simple harsh breath would ruin whatever this was. Softly you brought his hand up to your face blowing cool air on the drying ink. "There ya go." You tossed his hand back, your gentle nature now gone. "But um yeah if you ever need to talk you can call me."

Funny enough he didn't want to call you. "Sure." Was all he could muster up. Billy finally decided he didn't want you dead like the rest of them. You were kind enough not to piss people off but you were sure of what you wanted. Too trusting, yes but it definitely helped his case. He'd have to make a new plan one that doesn't get you hurt. Well, one that doesn't get you killed.

Part 3

#billy loomis #ghostface #slashers #scream #scream 1996 masterlist #scream 1996 #billy loomis ghostface #billy loomis masterlist #billy loomis x reader #stu ghostface #stu macher x reader #stu macher #poly!ghostface #ghostface x female reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 4 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 12

Black White and Midnight Blue | Loki x Reader

You and Loki repay your debt to the Avengers by attending Baron Zemo's exclusive Hampton's dinner. But when an unexpected guest arrives, you find yourself the centre of attention.

Warnings: Baron Zemo chat (I hate that guy), mention of PTSD and anxiety for reader, angst, whump/hurt (the comfort comes next chapter!)

A/N: I'm so sorry this has taken ages and it's not the extra long chapter I promised because, in the end, the extra bit just made sense further along in the story telling. We're really moving the plot along at pace in this chapter and revealing a bit more about our antagonists so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for sticking with this!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

There was a time in your life when you had only ever dreamt of sitting beside the Avengers in their luxurious top floor office, discussing plans to save the world. Like everyone else, you’d seen the news, watched the footage of them battling in New York and been awed by their bravery and prowess. But now, seeing them argue and having felt their fear and wrath, you only felt cold.

Their icy demeanors hadn’t thawed since you returned, the truce between the heroes and Loki was dangerously thin, held together only by Thor’s surprisingly adept diplomacy and their need for you.

Below the table you felt the only warmth in the room, Loki’s hand on your thigh, pressing his fingertips just a little harder than normal, to help you feel grounded. Below the surface you could feel his magic thrumming, restrained in its frustrations, straining against its bonds in an attempt to be freed. It was a feeling you could empathise with, your magic called back to him, coiled inside of you ready to strike.

The poor weather of mid autumn had kept you trapped inside and unable to practise the depths of your magic as you wanted to. But when you were alone together, your sedir tangled with his and had allowed you to make and support illusions both beautiful and romantic.

You sighed, bathing in the memory of Loki twirling you around his bedroom, transformed for the evening into a miniature Asgardian ballroom.

Hands clasped, one steadying palm at the small of your back as the waltz rose around you. His intricate steps leading you into dizzying turns.

Your memories blurred together, dances from aeons past melting into this perfect evening.

“Are you two listening to me?” Steve barked, hands on his hips as he commanded the room, a large leather binder spread open on the table in front of him.

“Of course we are, Captain.” Loki drawled, a note of disdain lingering in the otherwise quiet room.

“Yes, Captain Rogers.” You answered, earning a tickle of long fingers along the inside of your knee from Loki.

Such a good girl

A teasing warmth spread over your skin, starting in the dimple of soft flesh that Loki had pinched and up your spine.

I just want to get this done with

“As I was saying,” he coughed, flipping a page in his folder, “Loki and Estrid -”

“Oh, you don't have to start using that name-” you interjected.

Since returning from Tønsberg you’d shared your new name with the group for clarity. But it still felt odd to have an entirely different identity. Though there were things you could become accustomed to, your new name was proving to be a sticking point.

“Loki and Estrid -” Steve continued.

“Lady Estrid,” Loki interrupted, leaning forwards across the table and flourishing a gold pen from the thin air around his hand, “if you're going to ignore her wishes, you could at least be correct, Captain, allow me to update your little record for you. It’s Lady Estrid, Princess of -”

“If you want to use it, then just Estrid is fine.” You took the pen from his hand and placed it carefully on the table where it melted into the surface leaving a faint trace of gold.

“Darling you should -”

“It’s fine, Loki, let’s just-” you tipped your head towards the waiting team and raised your eyebrows.

Please, let it go

Never, you deserve to be treated with respect, especially from these cretins

I know, I know, but the sooner we’re done here the sooner we can just leave

Loki scowled, but turned back to Steve, “continue.”

Steve returned the scowl and went back to his book, “Loki and Estrid will use their powers to infiltrate the party and separate at the bar, your new identities will be in your briefing packs and outfits will be provided. Although I suppose, should the need arise, you will both be able to create disguises. Should you be compromised this will be key to your escape.

“Loki, you’ll head to the office room so that you can break into the safe. There should be a laptop in there with - well, possibly best if you don’t know. But it’s important. Estrid you’ll be keeping people away, providing cover as this is your first op. Loki, you should hand the laptop over to Natasha who’ll be waiting here -” a map flashed up above the desk in the same, obnoxiously bright blue and orange that all of Stark’s designs seemed to favour.

You and Loki leant back in your chairs to get a better look. “Natasha will be waiting in the first of the get-away vehicles. It’s important that you both stay at the party for at least a short while so as to not raise suspicions. When it’s time for you to leave we’ll let you know through your comms. Understood?”

“Understood,” you nodded at Steve.

“Loki?” The Captain stared pointedly at the Prince sitting next to you who had become so bored he’d produced a nail file from somewhere and was carefully tidying up the edge of his middle finger.

“You understand that I’m a God? This is not the first time I’ve been in a raiding party.” Loki raised one eyebrow, “I think between us we’re perfectly capable. Now, my darling, can we leave?” Loki had a way of speaking to you as if there was no one else in the room, clear and direct, his eyes focussed on you entirely and it made you tingle all over.

“Yes, we can go.” You allowed yourself a small smile at his impatience and took his outstretched hand, allowing your gaze to rise up his lean, muscular body.

The two of you had barely left Loki’s rooms since your date, snuggled together in blissful solitude morning and night. Just being in the conference room felt painful and you longed to return to the comfort of Loki’s bedroom.

“But we still have -” Steve started.

“My Ásynja has said that it’s time for us to go,” Loki cut off Steve’s protests and turned his back on the Avengers, tucking your hand into his elbow and leading you back to his quarters.

The light glimmered off your dress as you stepped from the dark interior of the limo and out onto into the softly lit courtyard of Baron Zemo’s Hampton’s residence. Behind the tall gates and stone walls, New York’s most wanted were being wined and dined while the Avengers set up their checkpoints in the inky darkness of the beach and grassland that surrounded the vast estate.

Loki kept hold of your hand once the door closed behind you, tucking your fingers into the crook of his elbow, the soft wool material of his suit warmed your palm while you looked up at the towering mansion. Behind the stone walls the home itself looked almost cosy, warm lights detailing the traditional white wood and blue accents. Who could have known that behind the white linen curtains lurked so many criminals, the blood on their hands enough to fill the tinkling fountain in the centre of the courtyard.

You squeezed Loki’s arm to get his attention.

“Yes, darling.” His voice was a low purr against the backdrop of muffled string music and laughter.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” You whispered, stepping closer to him, “what if I can’t hold this shape?”

The entire operation was dependent on you and Loki pretending to be a minor couple from one of the European crime families trying to break new ground in America. When you’d questioned where the real couple would be, Steve had told you not to worry about it. But Tony gleefully explained that he had arranged for Natasha to pay the mysterious pair a visit just before their limo was due to arrive. You hadn’t dared to think about where she’d put them for the duration of the evening.

“You can and you will,” he assured, tugging you closer, “and then we can be free of this nonsense, Ásynja, and we can return to Tønsberg together.” Behind the illusion, you saw the flash of Loki’s blue eyes, a shimmer of gold, of promise, and you straightened yourself. “It doesn’t hurt that you look absolutely radiant, my darling.” He grinned, appraising the black cocktail dress that had been chosen for you. It was a very beautiful dress, and although you’d become rather accustomed to wearing green and blue, you had accepted that it was your job to blend in tonight and not stand out.

“Loki,” you gave an embarrassed whisper.

“Well, you do.” He said, matter of factly. “It’s incredibly distracting.”

You grinned back, “you look very handsome too..”

“Then let’s make our entrance.” Even under his vanir the same mischievous look past over his eyes.

Loki gave your hand one last squeeze before guiding you up the steps and into the foyer, ready for your first mission.

Inside, the party appeared to be in full swing. The host, Baron Zemo, held court at the centre of the room, talking animatedly with a large group of men all dressed almost identically in luxurious looking black tuxedos. Hanging off their arms were some of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, the jewels dangling from their ears catching in the soft lighting, their tinkling laughs cutting through the gruff bluster of their dates.

Loki had already clocked at least two doors that he would need to check, you could tell by the way he squeezed your arm as you passed by the quiet porter who took your coats at the door. He would have to sneak off soon, but it was your job to stay at the bar installed in the corner of the large dining room, to talk to anyone leaving the Baron’s circle of confidence who might become suspicious about Loki’s whereabouts and, in the event anyone left the room, you could alert Loki or try to cause a diversion to allow him time to secure the laptop and escape.

Together you made your way across the crowded room to the bar and ordered drinks, taking only the barest sip to keep sober. Although the sedatives that you were used to taking had completely worn off, you were liable to get very drunk, very quickly, when you were nervous and you had never had to maintain a completely different body while drinking. You hoped that twirling your straw flirtatiously would be enough to look natural while Loki scoped out the room.

“It’s time, darling.” He whispered in your ear, his familiar scent ghosting over you, despite his unfamiliar appearance. He traced the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose and then kissed your cheek, leaving you with goosebumps appearing on your arms.

Loki siddled away from the bar, blending into the shadowed edges of the room and vanishing from sight as he rounded the corner into the area roped off as ‘private’.

Alone, you surveyed the room again, watching as the Baron captivated his laughing audience with another tale of his debauchery, the crispness of his starched shirt hiding the clearly healing cuts and bruises below.

You’d heard stories about him, mostly from the Avengers themselves, about how he had tried to break them, how he had manipulated his way into the compound and triggered Bucky. The super soldier hadn’t been around for that conversation, but Steve had looked over your shoulder as if he could still see the image of his best friend, snarling like a feral beast as he tore his way through the compound. Natasha had reassured you that it couldn’t happen again, but it wasn’t Bucky you were afraid of. He seemed to be as much a victim as circumstance as you, always grimacing before a fight and never bragging about his victories. He was trapped in that compound just as you had been, his only comfort the red headed spy that he was dancing around approaching.

The reassurances of the Avengers meant nothing to you, because it wasn’t Bucky or the Winter Soldier you were afraid of. It wasn’t even necessarily the Baron and his despicable friends, although the easy way he spoke about death had sent a chill down your spine.

The people you were really afraid of, who made your skin crawl and your head hurt. The people you really wanted to be away from... It was the Avengers and Agents that swarmed the compound, the way they recited their allegiance to each other and bowed down to Stark and his wealth.

That scared you more than anything else, because it left you with no one to trust.

No one but Loki.

It brought a familiar, nagging, question back to the front of your mind. If the Baron had been neutralised, why were you even here in the first place? No one had told you and it was really the last place you wanted to be while you were still recovering from your ordeal.

What if the kidnappers were here, what if he was part of it? Your heart beat sped up, your chest feeling tight as your breath became shallow.

You turned away from the bar and carefully dabbed at your tearline, catching the tears before they fell and tucking your now mascara stained handkerchief back into your clutch bag, allowing yourself time to play with your bracelet, hidden inside, flashing in the candle light as the only way to sooth your fractured nerves. For the first time you’d do anything to go back to your slow and steady life from before, to not know about this world or any of these so called powers, if this is where it got you.

Risking a look up at the room you were relieved to see no one had even noticed you, and you allowed yourself to think of the one thing that was keeping you going, Loki. If none of this happened, there’d be no Loki and, powers or not, he was the first positive thing to come into your life in a long time. Or, if your memories were right, to come back into your life.

Your breathing evened out at the thought of him, the way he’d smiled so softly while helping you shift into this new form. How he’d kissed your temple while waiting for the limousine and held your hand the entire way. He’d promised to reward you for your bravery as soon as the laptop had been handed over and, if it was anything like his other ‘rewards’ it was certainly worth looking forward to.

Just as you were settling into the thought of falling into bed with Loki, a ripple of fear rolled up your spine and a scream cut through the gentle tones of the string quartet. You span around, leaping to your feet, your hands held in front of you just as Loki had taught you, ready to defend yourself against the mobsters.

But there was no gun fight, no knives drawn, instead the room began to fill with blinding light, so white you had to cover your eyes with your hands, pressing so hard you could see stars as the other guests began to scream and shout.

“Estrid, are you there?” Natasha’s voice crackled in your ear, so far away and useless as you backed away to crouch down behind the spindly barstool. Suddenly this entire operation seemed like a terrible idea.

“I’m here, but so is something else, where’s Loki?” Your voice cracked, hoping he was close by.

“He secured the item, it’s with me and he’s heading back to the party-” Natasha’s response was cut off by the familiar feeling of Loki’s presence entering your thoughts.

I’m here, I’m safe, are you?

It floated to you through the chaos, anchoring you to your spot. If he was coming then you could hold yourself for now, though you were too scared to even breathe properly. Each inhale felt jagged, like ice in your lungs.

There’s someone here, it’s so bright, I can’t see, I don’t know what’s happening

“Estrid, come in? - Report? - Estrid!” Natasha shouted, the distinctive click of her trying different channels before returning to yours made your head ache. Slowly, trying not to draw attention to yourself, you popped out the earbud and placed it in your bag, silencing the electric hum of the comms.

Everything else went silent then and, for a few seconds, you thought it might be over, but then there was a hand on your elbow, pulling you up and out from your hiding place. You hoped it was Loki and that the change in his cologne was due to his needing to hide, but an uneasy feeling had already settled over you.

“Loki?” You whispered, “can I open my eyes?”

“You can open your eyes, child.” The speaker had a deep, rough voice, as if it hadn’t been used in many years, the words jagged and jarring, pulling at your memories.

“Child?” You cracked one eye open enough to see who had spoken, the room was still white, but between the two of you it flowed as a golden river, dust motes dancing in the air and rather than being blinded as you imagined, it made you think of your Grandfather and hazy summer afternoons with the windows open wide and the dust motes dancing in the air.

Around you the party goers were locked, stock still, in time, their hands over their faces as yours had been.

“Come, Estrid, I have been looking for you.” He moved his hands to cup your cheeks, turning your face up to him as you opened your eyes. In slow motion he smiled down at you and you felt a strange sense of peace wash over you.

The man before you was tall and fair, blonde curls fell in perfect tendrils over his broad shoulders and the green cloak that fell to the floor in waves. On one shoulder a silver pin kept his cape attached to his tunic, as if he’d stepped straight from a history book into the party. Although the room was already bright, he seemed to be lit from within, like he was standing in the summer afternoon sun. His eyes were bright too, but not with anger.

“Who are you?” You asked, though it was clear this was another god, you willed Loki to arrive, none of these mortals would be able to help you now and despite your training you felt powerless. All of your energy was focussed on maintaining your illusion, just in case there was someone looking.

“Ah, child, of course, you do not remember. I forget myself, that we have not seen each other these past centuries. It is I, Lugh.” He stepped back and placed his hands back on the pommel of the broad sword hanging from hip and nodded his head politely. “I knew your mother, long ago, she was dear to my heart and I had searched for you, her beloved daughter, for many years. I have sent for you, though you escaped my man.” He smiled at you indulgently, “you always were such trouble, Estrid. Whatever will we do with you?”

His words were soft and he was honest and friendly as if he knew you well, but all you could hear were the shouts of your memories.

Insolent welp

Disgusting

Fallen

You’d been dragged around, half starved, poisoned and beaten. The anxiety that had gripped you so tightly just moments before morphed inside of you, a tight, heavy rage bubbled and filled every pore. How dare he. How dare anyone. Turn up now and play nicely after you had been passed around like a spare part.

“Get away from me.” You kept your voice low, clenching your fists at your side as your anger bubbled within. “Get away from me, right now.” Your rage, like lava, moved in slow motion, rising slowly and heavily.

“Child, it is imperative you -”

“No!” You shouted, the light blared brighter, the bulbs smashing around you like fireworks.

The man reached forwards, and as his fingers touched your own the bubble inside burst and your magic took over, wrapping you in leather and velvet, a shining silver breastplate and epaulettes were revealed by the shimmering blue flame that danced over your body. The meagre outfit you’d once conjured with Loki and Thor was a mere memory compared to the battle ready armour. In your hand you now held a long spear and, as you watched, the flame danced to it’s place upon it, flaring and then dancing in the air.

But he didn’t let go and as he tightened his grip you were overtaken by the memory of winters in front of a huge fire, piles of furs surrounding you and your mother, sipping wine in a cup and laughing. The snow beyond the entrance of the room fell in soft flakes and the fire smelt of pine and peat. The man was there laughing too, toasting with your mother.

“You are truly a kind friend, Lugh, to host us so.” Your mothers voice was warm and rich, like sweet chocolate and spice.

“Brigid, my dearest friend, it is an honour to have you and your beautiful daughter stay with me on your journey home.”

“Ah, we should discuss that later,” your mother nodded towards you, “I have been planning for Estrid’s future and I fear - sweet girl, perhaps you should go and play a while.” Your mother pointed towards a neat looking pile of woollen capes and a young boy, so familiar, with bright eyes.

“Go, Estrid, enjoy the snowfall.” Lugh touched the top of your head as he passed and you were thrown back into yourself.

The man took a step back, his own five pointed spear tapping the floor and, behind him, Loki stood aghast but smiling only for you, his own battle armour shimmering gold and his horns brushing the doorframe.

“You heard the lady, back away, now.” Loki strode forwards, twin daggers appearing in a flash of magic, he turned his head away from the bright light of the stranger, only facing him when his magic had conjured a pair of black sunglasses to protect his eyes.

The man sighed and banged the end of his spear on the floor again, a red flame appearing which he swung in a wide arc creating a barrier between himself and Loki. The wall of flames reached almost to the ceiling, blocking your escape and your rescue.

“Loki!” You cried out, making your first move away from your position at the bar towards him, a hand reaching out, almost touching the flame.

“Leave him!”

You rounded on the man, your spear tipped forwards in front of you, half defensive and entirely furious, your teeth ground together. “I don’t know who you are but I won’t go with you, leave me alone!”

The man rushed forwards, knocking your spear to the side in one deft movement and grabbing your hands, “you must listen you’re in danger. You are being hunted, you must stop using your magic and hide yourself.”

“By you!” You fought against him, “I won’t be put back there, I won’t.” But something nagged at you, that was why the boy was so familiar, you’d seen those eyes before as the boy, now a man, had earnestly begged for you to stop using your magic. You hadn’t listened, you’d carried on and then - and then you’d been taken again.

The man began dragging you towards the windows, the too bright light that had kept the guests subdued parted around him like smoke revealing the dark parquet floor.

“I can remove you from this place, but you must stop manifesting this armour, you do not require it and it will only draw their attention.”

“Let her go!” Loki projected himself across the room, his body still stuck behind the flames but multiple versions of himself appearing in a semi-circle and hemming your kidnapper in. The man glowed brighter, blurring his features beyond recognition.

With one last attempt to free you Loki, your real Loki, pushed at the flame, shooting his own magic through in one huge green blast, and knocking the man backwards and away from you.

But you fell too.

You cried out, rolling on the floor and landing heavily against the doorframe with a sickening thump.

<<Chapter 11

Chapter 13>>

God mentioned

This is just from my own reading, I'm by no means an expert! This is also a fictionalised version of actual mythology, just like Loki & Thor in the MCU.

Lugh: A figure in Irish mythology and belongs to the Tuatha Dé Danann. He's portrayed as a warrior but is also linked to artistic skills as well as truth telling and oath taking.

Lugh and Brigid are similar in that they are linked to many attributes.

In the Irish mythology Lugh challenges Brigid's husband, Bres, who is king. So. Take from that what you will! In this story I will be portraying Lugh and Brigid as friends and kindred spirits.

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #Loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki angst

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