#hit the follow button for more reasons why you should love Steve Harrington

[steviesbicrisis]

I’ve been thinking about Steve and Eddie’s canon interactions, so let’s forget Steddie for a second.

I’ve been wondering, why would Steve tell Eddie not to be a hero? of course, he worries about Dustin. But Dustin has done this before, I think Steve trusts him to not do anything that would get him killed.

Steve worries about Eddie.

And he never says "Eddie is not so bad" or stuff like that, but he worries the second he meets him. He's the one concerned about Eddie wandering around while being a fugitive. When Eddie opens his heart to him about changing his mind about him, Steve doesn't show any interest but he's concerned when Eddie refers to himself as a coward.

Steve listens carefully but so silently I don’t think anybody notices. And he does this with everyone, he listens and he pretends not to care but I might argue that he’s the most attentive one of the group. He listens to Dustin when he tells him about his love life, to the kids when they have the plan to go to the tunnels in season 2, to Robin in any possible occasion and to Eddie when he confesses to feeling like a coward.

It’s been what? Two days? since Eddie got involved with the upside down and Steve as been attentive enough to have a part of him know that Eddie could do something stupid about being a coward.

They’re not close enough for Steve to be certain or to say more, but he worried nonetheless.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

The Flayed

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 4.3K

warnings: cursing, panic attacks from byers/going off on everyone, blood/fighting. i think we good!

summary: the pits of hell.

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story-

yall, steve and byers relationship is going through it, im sorry. also feel like my writing is inconsistent for these next few chapters (idk just me?)

@alecmores​ my lovely friend🌟

series masterlist / steve harrington

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You were sure your voice was gonna give out with the volume of your screams. The room that was now confirmed to be an elevator was moving at such a fast speed that you worried you’d hit the ceiling when it reached the bottom.

“Steve!” Calling for your boyfriend with tears flooding your eyes.

This is why you didn’t want to do this. Why you shouldn’t have gotten involved and just called the government. Now you have two children with you in a dangerous environment not knowing what was on the other side. Stupid fucking Russians had to ruin your night cause of their stupid system. 

“Shit! Shit!” “We’re going down! We’re going down!” Steve and Dustin shouted over the noise. And you're pretty sure you’re just sobbing through the screams at this point. Robin shouted to Steve, “Yeah, no shit, Harrington!”

Dustin was smashing his hands into the buttons, but nothing was helping. “Why don’t these buttons work?!” Erica ran to his side, the two of them pressing the same buttons and yelling at each other.

Your fingers were curled tight around a metal table as you hyperventilate. Everything and everyone was just making your panic worse and you feared passing out. The elevator hit the ground hard and everyone lost their foot, falling to the floor with boxes following. Your head hit the bottom of the table and you winced in pain.

You could hear Steve groan, “Oh! My groin. It fell on my groin.” Then he called for Dustin to move a box.

You heard shuffling and Robin asking if everyone was okay, but you could only hear your loud breathing and feel the fast beating of your heart. Palms hit the metal floor as you panted and silently cried, messy hair hiding your face in a curtain.

“(Y/n)? Hey, baby…” The voices sounded as if they were underwater. Garbled and unclear, barely able to understand it’s Steve just from the pet name. A hand falls to your back, trying to use repetitive motions as a way to calm you down.

“Baby, it’s Steve. Dustin, Erica, and Robin are with us. Everyone is okay. We’re safe.” He spoke low and close to your ear.

“We don’t know if-“ “Shut it, Henderson!”

Your hearing got clearer and your breathing slowly evened out, body slightly shook as you managed to push yourself off the floor and shrug Steve’s hands away. Fingernails curled into your palm as you glared at Steve. His eyes were droopy and sad, arms limp at his side, but you needed to get this out.

“We are not safe, Steve. Not even close. We are in a Russian elevator that no one besides us knows about, so they wouldn’t know where to look. We have two underage children in our care to keep safe, which, they or we shouldn’t even be here in the first place! I have said, we should just take this to the authorities! That’s their job! We work in a fucking ice cream shop making five bucks an hour! But you and Dustin, along with Robin, wanted to be nosy American heroes, and Erica just took this as a reason to get free ice cream.” Arms flailing and voice cracking. “I should be home watching Jeopardy on the couch with you or Will. I haven’t heard from Jonathan or my mom all day, who knows if Will's home alone when he shouldn’t be since the last time that happened, he got sucked into the fucking Upside Down!”

You pound your fist into the walls, hurling more words under your breath. You ignored the sting to your wrist as you kept banging and banging, eyes blurry and voice straining. You only stopped when arms wrapped you from behind, they pinned your biceps down and dragged you away from the wall. You struggled against their hold until you gave up, not fighting just letting your emotions get the better of you. 

“I can’t- I can’t do this again. I just can’t.” Legs turn to jelly as you let gravity drag you back to the floor. You just wanted to curl into a ball and sleep into a coma.

Steve, you knew it was him holding you, he fell with you. Your back was pulled to his chest as he shushed you, trying to calm you like a baby. His hand pushed your head towards his neck and you shifted so you leaned on your side, starchy uniform wrinkling in your grip. “I can’t keep… doing this.”

Steve took a deep breath, “I know, baby. I know. We just gotta stick together and we’ll be safe.” He pressed his face into your hair, his eyes closing as he hugged you tighter. He never wants to see you break like this, and he’ll do everything to keep you from cracking further.

“Uh… just so you nerds are aware, I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s. And Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.”

“I don’t care about Tina!” Steve yelled as he moved his hands over your ears. With his mouth close they barely muffled his screaming at Erica. “Or Uncle Jack’s party! Your moms not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!”

Your ears were uncovered and took in the silence that followed so much yelling. Dustin and Robin are the only two just watching and standing back. Steve kept your head pushed to his neck, his chin digging into your scalp as his palm rubbed your bicep up and down. 

“Hey,” You turned to Dustin. His voice was low and even as he addressed the room. “Why don’t we just climb our way out?” Pointed upward to a square cut into the ceiling.

Steve pulled the both of you off the floor and kissed your salty cheeks. He squatted so Dustin could climb onto his shoulder and push the hatch open. With help from Steve, Dustin was pushed up and then Steve used a table for leverage.

You, Robin, and Erica just looked up and waited for anything. Your arms wrapped around your stomach, pretending it was Steve grounding you.

“Steve!” Robin yelled, “What’s it look like? Can we climb?”

There was thumping and then Dustin’s head popped in with a strained smile. “Uh…”

“Uh, what? Can we climb?” Erica demanded.

“No. We can’t climb, we’re too far down.” Dustin groaned.

You dropped your head. “Son of a bitch,” mumbled under your breath. Steve climbed back in and sighed as he leaned against the wall.

-

“Code red. I repeat, code red. Does anyone copy?”

You could hear Dustin’s voice bouncing off the thick walls from above. He asked for his walkie and said he was gonna try to get some help. He’s been repeating code red for about five minutes now.

“We are innocent children and we are trapped under Starcourt Mall. The Red Army has infiltrated Hawkins, and if we are found they will torture and kill us.” That was a new one. And if anyone heard that, they would probably think it was a dumb prank.

Steve climbed atop a table and poked his head through the hole. “Hey!” He called to Dustin, “Gotta take it easy on that thing. Gonna drain the battery.”

Dustin’s voice was muffled and you could only hear Steve’s reply, “What do you think, Petey the mall cop is gonna rappel down here and save the day?” He shimmied up back to the roof.

You, having nothing to do and wanting to distract yourself, you started stacking and organizing the boxes. Lend a helping hand to the Russians, cause why not? Robin tried pushing different buttons to get the door open or the elevator working again hopefully. And Erica was off to the side sitting down, messing with the container Robin stuffed in her bag.

Then there was a sound and a smell, your nose wrinkling. You heard Robin scuff followed by, “Can you redirect your stream, please?” You looked at the wall and you groaned.

Loud banging filled the silence and you promptly spun to see Erica hitting the green liquid against metal tubs. You rushed to her side and yanked the unknown substance from her tiny hands. “Hey, hey! Be careful, careful, careful! We don’t even know what this is.”

She rolled her eyes, “Exactly. It could be useful.” Robin walked over, “Useful how?”

Erica started a little rant. “We could survive down here a long time without food, but if the human body doesn’t get water it will die.”

“I know that, little miss know-it-all. But I hate to break it to you, but this is not water. Not even close.” Your attitude is starting to match Erica’s.

She shrugged, “No, but it’s a liquid. And if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink.”

You heard Robin scuff and then a distant noise. An electronic whirring. Robin walked to the door and Erica yanked the liquid back when you were distracted. The both of you watched as Robin set her ear to the door and then pushed away to the tables. She climbed up and motioned with her hands to follow.

“We’ve got company.”

Robin went up first and then you made Erica go next, helping her small frame reach the hatch for someone to grab her. You can hear the noise getting closer. You stood on your tiptoes to get as close to the top, fingers stretched to the point of cracking. You weren’t good at pull-ups so you know this is gonna be a difficult task. Luckily, Steve came forward and grabbed your arms tight, and helped pull you upward. You fell into his arms as Dustin closed the lid, and now was the waiting game.

The elevator thudded then stopped meaning it was opened and then you heard two Russian men speaking, their feet shuffling back and forth a few times. Steve looked down into the opening allowing light, you should see the shadows moving. Everyone was tense, keeping as still as possible to not give away the position. Steve held a finger to his lips then he tilted his head slightly in the direction of Erica, who was holding her container of liquid goo.

Steve curled his fingers in a ‘give me’ motion and she slowly handed it off. The two men walked out of the room and now you just waited until they drove away. That whirring noise grew distant and it was followed by the heavy door falling.

Steve yanked the hatch open and climbed down, the door getting closer to sealing back up. He slid on the ground and with the bottom vertical he jammed it open. “Let’s go,” you usher Erica down first. Her backpack was thrown to Steve and pushed through the door.

She crawled on the floor with Steve’s “Go, go, go,” And her “I’m going.” in response.

Dustin dropped second. “Henderson. Go, go.” Steve gave him a push. You urged Robin next, her legs in the air before you pushed them down. You didn’t bother to argue with Steve about who was next since he would insist on you. You shuffled under with Dustin and Robin yanking you out of the way so Steve could hurry as the glass was breaking.

You grabbed his uniform and tugged at him, Robin helping with her grunts of, “Come on, Steve, let’s go!” He rolled his body into yours and both of you watched as the glass gave out and the green goo sizzled the floor and door.

You sighed as you hugged Steve tight and he did as well. You heard Robin ask, “Still wanna drink that?” And you knew it was at Erica. Despite the moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from planting kisses on the side of Steve’s face, your body went through slight shudders of panic. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” Whispered into his hot skin.

He pushed himself off your body and held his hands out to help you from the floor. His eyes zigzagged everywhere, “Not hurt or anything?” You confirmed your intact state and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Holy mother of God.” Dustin’s voice broke the silence. You and Steve broke apart and everyone turned to see what stunned Dustin Henderson. A giant tunnel is what. “Well…hope you guys are in good shape.” He took your hand and pulled you with him as he tapped Dustin on the chest, “Looking at you, roast beef.”

-

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking. Could’ve been fifteen minutes or a full hour already. It just went on and on forever, the fluorescent lighting hurting your eyes and causing your headache to worsen. Steve kept your hands intertwined, something bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving reassuring kisses on our cracked skin.

“I mean, you have to admit, as a feat of engineering alone, this is impressive.” Dustin with his wandering gaze and scientific mind. Steve countered Dustin’s remark, “What are you talking about? It’s a total fire hazard. There are no stairs, there’s no exit, there’s just an elevator that drops you halfway to hell.” 

And you agreed with him in your head, ears tingling at the deep sound of Steve’s voice bouncing off the walls and almost wrapping you in a warm blanket. Messily as you walked you landed a kiss on his clothed shoulder, just wishing to take a moment and hug him like a bear.

Erica’s high-pitched voice spoke, “They’re Commies. You don’t pay people, they cut corners.” You genuinely wonder if she’s learning this from school or something she does as a hobby.

“To be fair to our Russian comrades, I don’t think this tunnel was designed for walking,” Robin mentioned. “Think about it, they developed the perfect system for transporting cargo.” And she was right about that.

“It all comes into the mall like any old delivery.” “And then they load it up onto those trucks and nobody’s the wiser.” Dustin and Robin finished each other’s sentences.

“Wait… so you think they built this whole mall so they could transport that green poison?” You leaned forward a bit to see everyone’s thinking faces. Dustin twisted his mouth, “I seriously doubt it’s something as boring as poison. It’s gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something.”

“What the hell is Promethium?” Steve blurted.

“It’s what Victor Stone’s dad used to make Cyborg’s bionic and cybernetic components.” Robin casually mentioned. You couldn’t help the gasp that followed, “You read comics? Robin, why am I just now hearing about this?” She just shrugged, but you saw her hidden smile.

“You’re all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill.” Erica had to ruin the moment.

Steve was quick to come to his defense, “No, no, no. No, don’t lump me in with them. I’m not a nerd, all right?” The simple comment made you slip your hand from his out of pettiness. Steve whipped his head towards you and tried to grab it back, but you just crossed your arms and kept walking.

You heard light chuckles from the others. “Why so sensitive, Harrington? Afraid of losing cool points to a ten-year-old child?” Robin’s snarky comment was followed by Dustin’s, “With you dating (Y/n), you’re a nerd by association. She’s got a good knowledge of comics and Star Wars.”

“I know that. I’m just saying I don’t know jack shit about Prometheus.” You dropped your arms and you felt Steve’s hitting yours twice before you took the innovation of holding hands again. “Promethium.” Dustin fixed Steve’s miss pronunciation. “Prometheus is a Greek mythological figure, but whatever. All I’m saying is, it’s probably being used to make something.”

“Or power something.” You quickly throw it out there. “Like a nuclear weapon?” Dustin asked. You shrugged even if he couldn’t see, “Totally, they are Russia and they usually are up to something sketchy.”

“Walking towards a nuclear weapon. That’s great. That’d be great.” Steve used his sarcasm as his defense. He squeezed your hand three times.

“But if they’re building something, why here?” Robin pointed out, “I mean, Hawkins. Seriously. Of all places. At the very best, we’re a toilet stop on your way to Disneyland, but maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s our very…” She trailed off as she and Erica continued forward. At the same time, Steve pulled the both of you to a stop with Dustin.

“You think the Russians know?” Steve turned to Dustin. “About-” Dustin didn’t need to finish, the three of you knew what he was gonna say. “They could,” Steve pointed out. “So it’s connected?” You asked while huddling closer to the boys.

Dustin shook his head, “Maybe.” “How?” You were confused about how a government on the other side of the world could know about your shit town and its supernatural connection.

“I don’t know, but it’s…” “Possible.” The three of you whispered. Your headache was worsening by the second.

“I’m sorry,” You looked up and saw Robin and Erica further up the tunnel and turned around, “Is there something you’d like to share with the class? (Y/n)?” You could only open and close your mouth, nothing coming out.

The sound of static hissing followed by a man’s voice speaking what sounds to be Russian drew everyone’s attention. Erica dropped her backpack and pulled the walkie out as you all huddled on the ground. Robin pulled the antenna out and listened to the voice. She then translated what was being relaid.

“A trip to China sounds nice. If you tread lightly. It’s the code.”

Dustin pointed at the walkie in her hands, “Wherever that broadcast is coming from-” “It’s close. And if there’s one thing we know about that signal…”

“It can reach the surface.” You finished with an air of hopefulness. Robin looked up with a smile then to your group, “Let’s go,” and you continued your walking.

-

You walked for what you assumed to be about thirty minutes before voices and loud noises got closer. Steve pulled your group into a corner behind a giant metal container and waited for the coast to be clear of any workers passing by. He peeked his head out and when he assessed the scene he moved forward and pulled you with him, “Clear, come on, Let’s go.” And everyone stuck close together.

“Okay, that was close.” “Too close.”

“Relax,” Steve stopped Robin and Dustin’s complaining, “Relax, no one saw…” His steps came to a halt and your jaw was metaphorically on the ground.

The room in front of you was filled with workers. Scientists, guards, drivers, and some people you can’t identify are dressed in red full-body suits. A female voice was speaking Russian on the intercom and you forgot you were in the open until you were almost spotted by an armed guard.

“Shit!” You yanked Steve with you to hide behind a red box, everyone tucked behind. “Jesus!” Steve muttered.

“Red Dawn.” Dustin referring to a movie that came out last year.

“I saw it.” And you just thought Erica meant the movie until she followed up with, "First floor, northwest.”

“Saw what?” Steve asked. “The comms room.” She sounded exasperated.

Steve scrunched his brows, “You saw the comms room? From here?” She nodded.

“Are you sure?” You couldn’t help questioning. You wouldn’t be able to tell which room was which. “Positive. The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.”

“That could be a hundred different things,” Dustin argued. You looked in the direction Erica said and squinted your eyes to see anything, you only saw a closed door and faint movement through the slender window.

“I’ll take those odds.” Robin firmly stated. You couldn’t help the sigh as you closed your eyes. This was crazy, this was crazy, this was crazy. “This is crazy.” A slip of your tongue.

“Well, would you rather be stuck out here or trying to get help?” Erica sassed. And you knew she was right, you still didn’t like the slim odds against the five of you.

“All right.” Steve whispered as he laid out the plan, “We’re going to move fast, we’re going to stay low. Okay?”

Steve went first then you followed, copying his actions and following his rules. One by one, like ducks in a row. You moved then stopped, and waited for people to pass before moving again to the nearest hiding spot. Just one more stop before the door you held your breath, not wanting to make a single sound before reaching safety. Eyes on the door and watching as a man in a lab coat leaves the room, door wide open and swinging closed.

“Let’s go.” Steve moved forward and caught the door just before it closed. He ushered everyone in before him. His back was to the room so it took him a second longer to realize that it wasn’t empty, a Russian guard was at the controls.

You pulled the kids behind you, arms out to the sides to block them. The guard just stared at everyone then moved his right hand towards his hip, his gun. You stiffened with your eyes widening. Robin moved forward and started shouting in Russian.

“Tread lightly! Tread lightly!” The man was confused, replying, but you didn’t understand him and Robin wasn’t planning on translating. “Silver cat… Silver cat.” She waved a hand behind her.

Everyone was tense. Eyes move everywhere from person to person or looking for something within the room as a weapon. You didn’t try to look at Steve, worried that might cause a bad reaction.

The guard shook his head, speaking more words that went in one ear and out the other. Robin turned to you with a worried look then back. She took another step closer, “China?” The man just scoffs and grabs his gun.

Steve’s yells fill the small room. He charges forward and shoves the man into the control counsel. With numb fingers, you tug Robin at the back of her shirt and closer to you. Your eyes watch as the man throws Steve off him and into a table and he groans from the impact. He throws a swing and Steve leaned back and avoids getting punched in the cheek, but he’s grabbed by his shirt and thrown into another table face first.

“Steve!” Your voice coming back to you. The guard grips the back of the Scoop's shirt, but Steve elbows him in the stomach. The guard stumbles away, allowing Steve to grab the walkie from the main counsel and throw it hand to hand before smacking the Russian in the face. He hits a table and then lands on the floor with a loud thud. 

You stare at the unconscious man before your eyes travel to Steve, who’s panting and running a hand through the front of his hair. Body moving on auto-pilot, your feet carry you towards Steve. Hands are shaky as they hold his biceps while you look over his face, warm brown eyes dart back and forth. You feel rather than see, Steve’s fingers curling into your belt loops and tugging you closer.

“Dude!” Dustin’s loud voice caused Steve to look his way, “You did it! You won a fight!” Steve looked to the floor and you saw the faint smile pulling his lips, “Jeez…”

“Please don’t do that again,” You couldn’t help the whisper. Steve’s brows furrowed at your words, “Well if I didn’t…” You stopped him with your hands on his cheeks, “No, I- I know. I just… I don’t want you getting hurt.” Thumb swiping over the apple of his cheek. His eyes and body melted just a touch, but now wasn’t the time to let his guard down. He only kissed your forehead and a reassuring smile before focusing back on the task at hand.

“You want to walk all the way back?” Erica’s loud shout made you step away from Steve reluctantly.

She and Dustin held a stand-off. “Well, we can hang out for a little bit, relax, have a picnic maybe.” And you can hear where Steve’s developing more of his sarcasm. Erica countered, “Have a picnic? We came here for a radio.”

“This plan is way better. If I knew Steve could knock out a Russian, that would’ve been our plan in the first place.”

“Steve is not fighting anymore Russians.” You stopped Dustin from potentially putting Steve in any harm. He just rolled his eyes and Erica scoffed, you were getting so tired of these kids and their growing attitude.

“Look I’m just saying-” “Guys.”

Robin’s voice stopped whatever Dustin was gonna say. She stood in a doorway that led to some stairs going up. “There’s something up there.” Pointing a finger over her shoulder.

You were the last one up the stairs and through the door. Steve closed it slowly and quietly behind you and when you turned to the room, you felt your blood run cold.

Slow, timid steps guided you to the glass openings in the wall. You leaned in, nose almost tapping the window as your glued eyes took in the sight before you. Steve stood behind you, his back pressed close and his face over your shoulder, while Dustin was on your left.

“Holy shit.” And holy shit was right.

A room of white button-ups and lab coats, people moving about or messing with buttons and dials. A glowing white light caused your eyes to squint, its noises were faint, but the walls rumbled with power. Whatever these Russians were doing, they were powering up a giant device that was pointed at the wall. It was causing a riff to open slowly, red and orange, and without having seen it before you know where this leads.

“The Upside Down,” was all you could whisper.

-

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striked means tumblr cant find you

[cockasinthebird]

Dear anon,

Here’s the Second Part to the request you made about Billy watching Steve masturbate! I would link the first part but then this post wont show up in the tag because that’s how it works, apparently

I think this might be one of my favourite things I’ve written, and yes I know I say that quite often, but there’s nothing wrong in enjoying your own stuff!!!

And I hope that you all enjoy it just the same~

-

The second time, he sits in a very expensive chair, specifically the one Mr Harrington occupies whenever he’s actually home and dealing with work from his office, the room covered in mahogany furniture and shiny leather seats. 

He spins around a few times, taking in the grand paintings on the walls, none of them of the family whose house this is, the glamorous curtains, the small and tasteful plants, and the head of a stag hanging in all its grandiose above the fireplace. Expensive, fancy, ostentatious. A showroom of importance and wealth.

Any one piece of furniture in this room costs more than Billy’s own house, and there is nothing Billy loathes more than rich assholes that think they can buy the world. Which just makes him defiling the heir to this fortune all the more fun for him.

The leather creaks underneath him as he stops spinning. From atop the desk he brings a glass of scotch to his lips, and gives it none of the respect Mr Harrington would believe it to be deserving of; simply bottoms out like it’s a shot of vodka. He licks his lips clean and swallows a few extra times to really enjoy his stealing of the oldest bottle in the liquor cabinet.

Then finally he stands up, slams the glass down with almost too much force on the dark wood, and walks around the desk to sit down in another leather chair, this one facing a couch on where Steve lies naked.

“Enjoying yourself, daddy?” he asks with a smile that runs from one ear to the other, on the verge of cracking his sexy facade.

And Billy laughs heartily at it, throws his head back a bit. “Oh don’t start on that, pretty boy! I am not ready to explore either of our daddy issues just yet.”

Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, then settles it into something more smooth and delicate, teasingly so, as he runs a hand down his side, from chest to hip where it rests. He’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his front turned fully toward where Billy admires the view - still dressed from head to toe - Steve’s cock hard from attention alone, the flushed head resting against the leather. And he waits patiently for whatever Billy has in mind.

When Steve had come home today, Billy had done the whole Marco-Polo charade till Steve found him pouring a drink from the glass bar behind the large desk. He hadn’t bothered complaining or asking any questions about why Billy is in his father’s office, simply sat down when commanded, and stripped without any hesitation when told. 

Now they’re looking at one another in silence. Billy spreads his legs as wide as the armrests will allow, and runs his hand rough up and down his girthy cock trapped inside denim still, and Steve’s dark and lustful gaze follows the movement attentively.

“You look amazing like this, Stevie,” Billy mutters, voice thick and salacious as he touches himself through too many layers. “I wanna watch you.”

Steve hums pleasantly and slowly starts slipping the hand on his hip down toward his full erection.

“You said last time you love watching me…” Fingertips graze against his cock, teasing and gentle and slight. “You ever watch me jerk off in private?”

Billy swallows hard, contemplating whether he should tell the truth or if that would be too intrusive to admit. But Steve has yet to get upset at Billy for any of his deviant behaviour. “Yeah, a few times.”

And for the truth he’s rewarded with Steve wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly moving up and down, squeezing around the head that leaks into his hand.

“Ah-h, good,” Steve’s voice starting to waver as he strokes his dick; wetting it with his own pre. “I think about you a lot when I masturbate, fuck, thinking about you at all gets me hard.”

Billy blinks slowly, wanting to meet Steve’s gaze but finds it impossible to look away from how Steve’s hand moves a bit faster. He removes his own hand from the bulge in his jeans and grips the armrests of the chair. 

“Do you ever finger yourself when you think of me?”

Steve licks his lips at that, and smiles with certain intent, although Billy doesn’t notice as he’s mesmerised as always by the way Steve touches his own throbbing prick.

“Not always, but whenever I do finger myself, I only think of you.”

“Show me,” Billy demands without hesitation - softly, but with no hint of ‘if you want to.’

But Steve wants to. His breath hitches at the stern tone to Billy’s words, the restraint in his movement clear as he slows down and eases his grip. 

“You want me to finger myself in front of you, here, in my father’s office, on his expensive couch?” Steve asks, incredulously, feigning reluctance, yet doesn’t stop the now lazy caress of his lengthy cock, keeps smiling, stays posing on his side.

Billy sits silent, doesn’t respond right away, instead he pulls up a small, inconspicuous, clear plastic bottle from the pocket of his shirt, and tosses it onto the couch.

“Yes.”

Steve looks at it; there’s no labels or text or anything, really the most boring and ordinary little container, but there is no doubt in his mind what it is.

“How do you want me?” he asks and finally meets with Billy’s eyes, a fire there burning hotter than the sun could ever dream of.

“However you do it when you’re alone - when I’m not here to fuck you into your mattress. Show me just how badly you want my thick cock.”

And as is often done in situations where words aren’t needed anymore, Steve simply bites his lip, keeps the bottle firm in his grasp, and gets up on his knees. He turns around on the couch, angling his perfect ass towards where Billy sits patiently like a statue, then bends forward; arching his back and spreading himself before his audience to grant a good look of everything. His leaking prick hanging between his legs, hole exposed fully.

“Fuck, Steve…” Billy nearly gasps at the view - didn’t expect to be this affected by it as he shuffles around in his seat, almost overwhelmed by the urge to just shove his tongue through Steve’s rim and eat him out till he’s cumming and crying. Billy adjusts the taut fabric of his jeans before settling in his place.

The cap of the bottle pops off loudly, lube drips onto Steve’s fingers, and with a careful motion, as to not waste a single drop, he brings his hand behind himself. He runs three digits flat and slick over his entrance, getting himself proper wet, staring straight at how attentively Billy watches, the self control damn impressive as those bluest of eyes twitch at the sight of Steve slipping in his middle finger.

Steve coos and keens, perhaps a bit excessive, perhaps egged on by the way Billy’s knuckles turn white as he strangles the leather armrests. He holds one hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady as he quickly finds an all too pleasant rhythm that leaves him craving more.

Billy hasn’t been this turned on, this painfully erect, since the first time he saw someone play with themselves, back when he was 13 and stole a porn tape from a thrift store in Cali. He still has it hidden away, mostly for sentimental reasons now, because nothing can compare to watching Steve finger himself open, moaning and dripping worse when he adds a second finger.

“Ah-h, mmh- Billy,” Steve teases with his name on that lascivious tongue.

And every sound that escapes makes Billy’s lust boil hotter, bubbling under his skin, the urge to touch like a strong current pulling him under. Touch himself, touch Steve. 

It takes all of his strength not to stand up, close the short distance between them and drive in two fingers past that gorgeous clenching ring of muscle, opening up Steve faster so that Billy can fuck him hard into the leather of daddy’s dear couch, press his face against the cushions and have him cumming in less than a minute.

Steve pushes in a third finger, thighs trembling as he moans out, “Shit, oh-” with an overt shudder running through him as he hits just the right spot.

“Feel good, baby?” Billy asks softly, voice husky and smooth, as he unbuttons his shirt slowly.

“S-so good, ah-” Steve’s prick leaks onto the seat, between his knees, fingers pumping fervently in and out leaves him writhing as he abandons any sense of rhythm, and Billy recognizes the way he’s calling out, cursing, close to mumbling his words.

Knows that it won’t be too long now.

“Fuck, Billy! Billy- Billy-”

“Yeah?” Billy groans out, pleased with how erotic his name can sound when it comes from such a pretty mouth.

“I’m- I’m close.” Fingers go as deep as they can, as quick as they can, it’s almost kinda impressive how rapidly he moves those digits, and it all goes to show that this might be something he does more frequently than originally suggested.

Billy unbuckles his belt, flicks free the button of his jeans, and lets the zipper run loose, immediately bringing some sense of relief to his own pent-up, aching cock. He then removes his hands again, one elbow on the armrest, chin in hand as he continues to simply leer at how Steve fingers himself, how his brows are pulled high and tight, how his eyes can barely stay open as they fight the urge to roll back.

“Think you can cum untouched like this?” he asks, impatience apparent in his rumbling tone.

“N-no, fuck, ah-h-” Steve cries and bucks his hips onto his fingers.

“Hmm…” Billy hums like he’s dissatisfied with that response. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Mmhn, ahh, yes, yes- in your ha-ands, not- not on my own,” Steve whines and meets Billy’s gaze with all too sincere eyes.

And fuck if that doesn’t make Billy’s full erection kick and leak in its entrapment - to know that he can make King Steve cum on his fingers or dick alone is empowering, strokes his ego just right.

“Fuck, Stevie, baby,” Billy growls with exposed teeth all predatory and lecherous. "Touch yourself. Cum for me, all over daddy's expensive leather couch."

Steve doesn't waste time before he brings his other hand to his weeping prick, and as he wraps his fingers around it to eagerly jerk himself, Billy grunts lightly as his own cock twitches with overwhelming jealousy. 

It really doesn't take more than a few strokes till Steve buries his face against the backrest, crying out loud as he moves his fingers hard and precise, back arching in the most beautiful curve, spilling all over the dark seat as he pumps himself dry of every drop, thighs visibly tensing and quivering.

“Gorgeous,” Billy breathes out, convinced that his grip on the armrests will soon tear the leather apart, his underwear completely soaked with pre.

Steve’s arms fall till his palms rest against the leather seat, his entire being pulsating and shivering with every heavy breath, sounding like he just ran a marathon. But as he moves to change his position, perhaps get more comfortable, Billy intervenes-

“Didn’t say you could move,” there’s barely a hint of play to his tone, “Stay just like that for me.”

So Steve does just that - shuffles around a bit on his knees to kneel better, swallows thickly, and hangs his head low to look at Billy from between his legs.

Billy in turn finally pulls his pained cock free with a loud and telling grunt of relief, the air almost sharp in its coldness, but it’s soothed by his firm hand running up and down his slick erection. Already he knows that this won’t last nearly as long as he wants it to; feels it in the way the coil twists pliantly, thighs and abs flexing at his every move.

“Mmh- shit, arrh, baby I- I want you to show me- fuck- spread your ass out for me.”

And Steve obeys all too readily, moving his hands back to grab a full cheek in both to spread them as far apart as he can, exposing his fluttering hole, puffy and well loved.

The sight of it makes Billy’s hips buck off of his seat, an interrupting moan punches the air out of his lungs, his cock spurting pre something horribly, the sounds of his jerking motion obscene and loud and overwhelming as he grips himself harder- tight like how Steve’s ass would feel right now, wrapped around him, sucking him in, milking him dry, right here in his father’s office, soiling the leather, defiling the high and mighty importance with moans of the heir’s hole getting ravished-

Just the mere thought of what Billy might get to do with Steve in every single room of this house, all goddamn 12 of them, has him cumming in near record time - a loud and unexpected orgasm that crashes through him as he lifts up and into his hand, cursing loudly towards the ceiling, cum shooting all the way up his chest to clash with the sweaty tan skin, painting him in white, pumping till he’s sore and lets his cock go with a hiss.

Suddenly so exhausted he could probably fall asleep right here, eyes closed and struggling to catch his breath as he slumps in the chair. That is until hands land on both his knees, squeezing gently and caressing him, and when he opens his eyes to look down there’s Steve, kneeling between Billy’s legs, a slight smile and the most adoring gaze, a glorious vision that shoots straight through Billy’s heart and overstimulated cock simultaneously.

Before Billy gets to make the next move, Steve crawls closer, brings out his tongue to run it hot and flat over Billy’s flaccid dick, pulling forth a pained, “shit, ah-h!” then continues with soft kisses up his stomach, across his abs, till he reaches where cum has been splashed across Billy’s pecks. And under the watchful stare of blue skies, Steve lets out his tongue once more, licks a stripe through the white pool and swallows with an almost delighted little hum.

A whole show that Billy will play over and over in his head those few nights Steve isn’t around.

And Steve finishes his climb straddling Billy’s thighs, kissing him deeply and passionately, as if he’s not satiated quiet yet, mixing the taste of them with dancing tongues, sweet and salty and strong still with an aftertaste of scotch.

[snarkwrites]

i wish i were that anon because that is a really great title and you posting about it just made me think of the title for the sequel: "throwing stones." (it would most definitely have to be angst because how can anything titled that be fluff??????) anyway i'm done i'll leave you alone now 🖤

Bless you for this follow up title. I love you so so so much for it, you have no idea. This gave me the perfect opportunity to play around with more angst.The first part to this is [ here ] if you wanna read it. 

Tag Squad : ( for the SOA version ) @rampagewriting | @chasingeverybreakingwave | @kyleoreillysknee | @sassymox

( for the stranger things version ) @rampagewriting |

[ tag list doc - add yourself or I won’t tag ] | [ masterlist ] | [ keep ‘em comin - these are hella fun ]

                       STEVE HARRINGTON x CHARLOTTE (oc)

“You’re acting weird lately.” Nancy’s accusatory tone had me looking up from the textbook in front of me and across the table to her. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, studying her a second or two. “How so?” I finally asked, tapping my ink pen against the tabletop.

“Every single time Steve shows up, you get moody. I know what happened but he’s not like that anymore.” Nancy’s words came in a rush, tumbling on top of each other and I took a deep breath, letting them sink in and trying to think of a response. Any response but the truth.

Because I’m just not ready to wrap my head around that just yet, god no. 

I tried simple deflection first. Blatantly ignoring the fact that I knew perfectly well she was right and she had a good point. To pretend like I wasn’t fully aware that every time Steve and I were forced to interact now, thanks to the two of them dating, the air wasn’t so heavy with tension that I couldn’t breathe. That I didn’t get moody and snippy.

“I’m not. It’s just.. Finals. Dad’s having problems with bookkeeping down at the garage too so I’m helping him as much as I can there, too.. I barely sleep. I’m sorry?”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Business for my father has been super slow lately and it’s worrying him, I can tell. Finals are getting closer too and to my shock, this year hasn’t been as easy for me as all the ones prior to. My grades are all over the place and it’s bothering me because I know that maybe I’m focusing a little too much on the fun and not my future. Because until this year? I really didn’t… Have a whole lot of fun.

Deep down though, I wasn’t sorry. I couldn’t handle being around Steve a lot. I did not handle it well at all. Because being around him lead to all those fucking pesky feelings I still somehow have to flood right back and given that Nancy seems reasonably happy, I just.. Didn’t want to ruin that.

And then there was the fact that lately, Jonathan and I have been talking more and maybe I feel a little bit guilty about that, too. Because I don’t know if Nancy’s ever told Barb this but she’s told me… She really did have a serious thing for him. As far as I know, that hadn’t changed. Until I got back from summer camp this year and everything pretty much had.

To sum it up, I know I hate change and I know I’m not handling it the best way.

My silence must have been too much, because Nancy cleared her throat. “You know you can tell me if something really is wrong… Right?”

I gave a soft laugh and nodded, twisting the pen between my fingertips as I leaned the chair back on two legs a little. “I know. And if there were, I would. I promise, Nancy. Nothing is wrong.”

“Then could you try being friends with Steve? For me?”

“I… Okay, yeah. Sure. I’ll try being friends with him.”

Jonathan walked into the library and I bit my lip, giving him a sheepish wave as he made his way over to our table, sitting down beside me and leaning in to whisper, “I swear to God I thought the teacher was never going to just shut up.”

Nancy looked from me to him and she bit her lip. I could see the brief look of hurt in her eyes and I swallowed hard, the guilt flooding me despite Jonathan and I only being friends. I smiled a little and spoke up. “It’s okay if Jonathan joins us to study, right? Because he’s a thousand times better at this math malarkey than me. He’s been a huge help.”

Jonathan beamed at my words of praise. Nancy, not so much.To an extent, I was dreading the conversation I knew we were going to have later that night. But then, deeper down, parts of me were kind of… well, I was more than a little too smug.

And that made me feel like the most horrible friend ever.

Steve peeked into the library, waving as he flashed a bright grin at Nancy. Nancy gestured him over and I tensed a little. I could feel Jonathan watching me when I did it, so I glanced over at him and bit my lip. He gave me this nod as if to say he understood and I swallowed hard, playing with my hair as I trained my gaze diligently on the book open between Jonathan and I now.

Steve plopped into the chair beside Nancy and broke the heavy, tension filled silence. “I’m having a party at my house this weekend. You two should totally come.” 

The pen shot out of my hands and I grabbed for it quickly. After settling back into my seat, I eyed Steve, shocked to find him already staring at me, a curious look in his eyes. And then a smirk playing at his mouth, almost a teasing one at that. “That means you too, Byers.”

Jonathan and I both tensed up a little because it didn’t take an idiot to see that Steve was up to something. We shared a look and Jonathan spoke up first, begging off. Saying he had stuff to do with Will. I pouted to myself a little briefly, but then I shrugged. “We’ll see. I mean, my dad is still kind of pissed about me sneaking off to Chicago with my aunt last weekend but maybe I can talk him into at least letting me stop by?”

I did it to appease Nancy. But I could tell that Jonathan showing up to study with me and me not having already mentioned that Jonathan and I were getting to be friends lately, well… I pretty much knew the damage was done.

And that bothered me a lot.

I did not want this to create even more tension between Nancy and I. She’s my best friend. We’ve been best friends since we were three. I didn’t want that to be another thing that changed this year.

,, but something tells me that it’s happening, whether I want it to or not.” as quickly as the thought came, I shoved it back out.

                       JUICE ORTIZ x HAZEL (oc)

“Don’t you have crow eaters to bother?” if I sounded tense when I asked the question it was because I’d had to watch them hanging all over him all night. And watch him, eating it up. And damn it, that was torture for me. Sheer hell. So I was frazzled by this point. And here he came, probably back to pick another fight.

As if the three arguments he tried starting earlier weren’t enough.

I reached out and grabbed for the pink Zippo sitting between us on top of the picnic table out back and I lit my cigarette, taking several long drags and letting them escape into the night air. Juice was just sitting there quietly and he really wasn’t saying anything. His gaze fell to his hands and he took a deep breath.

Heard Mayans have been given you trouble, Haze.”

I rolled my eyes. Goddamn Trager. I told him not to breathe a word to anyone about that one asshole who followed me home last night after trying to cop a feel when I was on stage dancing. He swore he wouldn’t and yet…

Juice makes exactly the second person to ask about the incident. Does no one in this goddamn MC know how to actually keep a secret?

I laughed at the passing wonder as it left my mind. Juice cleared his throat. “You know that club’s fuckin dangerous.”

“Yeah?” I eyed him for a few seconds, blowing out another smoky breath. Tearing my eyes off of him, I stared up at the sky. All the stars twinkling above. “If you came out here to lecture me, trust me.. Both my mother and Jax have been giving me literal shit fits for taking the gig at that club. It’s not going to change my mind. I want to dance. I’m not afraid.”

“It’s not you, either.” Juice spoke up, glancing over at me. “You weren’t like this.”

“I was still a fucking kid.” I said it through a jaw tightly clenched and then I sighed. “Why do you even care, anyway?”

He shrugged, not answering my question. Bold of me to assume he does in fact care, I guess . It hit me then just how much that bothered me. My shoulders slumped and I stared down at the bench my feet sat on top of. “I can’t believe you look down on what I’m doing too. You were the one who always said do what makes me happy, Juice.”

“But this? Really? Between that and the drinking so much. Don’t think I didn’t see ya slammin back shots earlier tonight with those bikers who stopped in from the Arizona charter.” 

“They were buying them, what the hell’s the point in letting them go wasted, huh? I’m not working, so it’s not like I was drinking on the clock.” I looked up, directly over at him. He opened his mouth, only to close it again.

“You play it safe, Hazel. You always have. For fucks sake, you fuckin walked away because there was even a small chance I might get hurt when I told you I wanted to pledge and Jax was talkin me up on it.” 

I took a deep breath, shoving my hands into the pocket of my jacket because they were starting to shake, it was taking that much to keep from blurting out the entire reason behind my decision back then. Or to tell him that I very much regretted my decision now. And that if life came with a rewind button, I’d gladly hit it and go back.

Instead, I shrugged. “Yeah. I did.” it was honestly all I could say. I slid off the table top, grabbing my pack of cigarettes and my lighter, slinking through the back door into the bar because my break was over.

And it took literally everything in me not to cry. Not to go track him down among the crowd, shove him against the wall and kiss him until I was light headed and his lips were bruised. Sooner or later, I’m going to crack.

I know this.

But until then, I’m just letting him have his anger and get it out. Because frankly, I deserve all of it. His concern for me out back of the bar tonight though… It was something I truly had not been expecting.

[flippyspoon]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

1986

These days when Steve woke up in the morning, he was always warm. 

That was not to say that he’d ever had to worry in cold Indiana winters. His parents had never had trouble with things like heating bills. This was a different kind of warmth. No heater required. This warmth came from the sun shining through a window and from the broad body spooned up to his chest every night. One morning Steve woke up and there was only the warmth of the sun. Steve murmured unhappily, reaching out to search through the blankets as if he might have misplaced Billy. It was Sunday. Neither of them had work. Steve was a bank teller. It was boring but he didn’t hate it. That was for now. They’d only just moved to Los Angeles three months ago. Just a few days before, Billy had put an idea in his head as they’d been driving aimlessly around the Westside, Steve fascinated by all the different styles of architecture. “None of the houses look the same!” He’d said. “That’s kinda true,” Billy said. “Never thought about it.” “Billy! That house is neon blue!” “You should sell houses, Steve.” Steve had no idea why but the thought had appealed to him. Realty… But for now, he was a bank teller. Billy was a bartender and sometimes bouncer. He was great at it. He raked in the tips at a cool but divey Hollywood bar. He was not old enough to be working as a bartender legally but the owner had been charmed and fudged some paperwork. The girls loved him. The boys loved him. Billy loved the attention. They were happy and they were getting by okay in their dingy little apartment off Sunset. The sizeable shift in lifestyle had taken Steve some getting used to. Billy had become pretty pissed a few times. “You can’t just go blow our cash at Tower Records when you feel like it,” he’d said, eyes bright with frustration while Steve stood sheepishly holding a bag of cassettes. “We have to eat.” It was a learning process. He did have one complaint of his own; they had yet to go to the beach. Steve kept bringing it up and Billy kept getting skittish about it which was weird. All Billy had talked about since they’d first cut through the bullshit and realized they were in love, long before they’d moved out to Los Angeles, was going to the beach. At least that was what he talked about when he was his most open, curled up against Steve’s chest in bed in the afterglow. “I’m gonna take you to the ocean,” Billy would murmur as his hand tangled with Steve’s. Steve had never seen the Atlantic much less the Pacific. “What else, baby?” Steve would say sleepily. “I’ll take you out in the sun, get you nice and tan,” Billy said. “Lay you down in the sand...” Now they lived not twenty minutes from the beach and they had not gone. Steve had no intention of going to the beach without Billy, it wouldn’t be any fun and it would just about break Billy’s heart so that was a non-starter. “Mmmph.” Steve sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. They always woke up together in bed on Sundays. “Billy?” Steve wandered into the kitchen that adjoined the living room and found Billy already showered and dressed in cut-offs and a sleeveless tee. His hair had grown out. Billy usually teased it up into a Metal fiasco but today it fell in soft blonde waves. Steve came up behind him as he sipped his coffee at the counter and circled his arms around Billy’s waist. “You abandoned me,” Steve said plaintively. Billy covered Steve’s hand with his own and tipped his head so Steve would kiss his neck. “I had some shit to do.” Steve reached around to steal the coffee mug out of his hand and drain it. “Asshole!” Billy whined. “You deserve it,” Steve declared. He stood on one foot to trace the back of Billy’s calf with his cool toes. “You abandoned me.” “Drama queen.” “What are we doing today?” Steve said. THE BEACH, Steve wanted to suggest. But for whatever reason the beach made Billy “edgy.” And Billy already seemed slightly edgy. “You’ll see.” “What shit did you have to do?” Steve said. “I’m not telling you,” Billy said. Steve raised his eyebrows. Billy leaned on the counter and bit on his bottom lip, avoiding Steve’s eyes. “Go get dressed. Very casual. I’m taking you somewhere.” “It’s a surprise?” Steve said. “Yeah.” “Oooh. Sexy.” “Okay,” Billy said, snorting a laugh. “Go get ready.” Steve showered and went for khaki shorts and a triangle patterned cotton button-up, his go-to casual wear. Billy had declared him somehow even preppier in California than he had been in Hawkins. Steve thought this was a slight exaggeration. He put on sneakers. In the living room, Billy was shifting from foot to foot, fidgeting with his mother’s necklace. He only did that when he was very nervous about something. Interesting. “Flip flops, Steve,” Billy said immediately. “Ugh!” Steve shook his head. “Look, I love Hollywood and all but there is dirt just...everywhere. In the air. The smog or whatever. Everytime I walk around in flip flops my feet get filthy-” “We’re not walking around Hollywood!” “Fine.” In the Camaro Billy gripped the steering wheel before he pulled out of their building’s lot. He took a deep breath. “Billy,” Steve said. “Seriously, what’s the matter?” “Nothing’s the matter,” Billy muttered. He rubbed his eye and laughed a little as if at himself. “Alright.” He pulled out and flicked on the radio. The Pretenders. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat. “Why are you so on edge if nothing’s the matter?” “I dunno.” “Are you taking me to meet your secret wife and kids?” Steve said. He rested his arm out the window, feeling the breeze. L.A.could get hot as hell but they lived near enough to the ocean that they didn’t get hit with the worst of it. Steve worked downtown. Downton could be disgusting when it was very hot. But today they were riding down Sunset in the Camaro and the sun was shining pleasantly and not blazing and Chrissie Hynde was singing. “My secret wife and kids?” Billy said. “Yep. Ya got me, babe. I’m nineteen but I’ve had a secret family stashed away all this time. I started very young.” “So why’re you nervous?” “I don’t know, Steven.” “Okay, William.” They were driving west, Steve noticed. They continued to drive west through three songs. Steve started to get excited. He sat back and lolled his head around to gaze at Billy with his best puppy eyes. “Are we going to the beach?” Steve said. “Please tell me we’re going to the beach.” “You’ll see.” Culver City. Steve didn’t know Los Angeles well enough yet. But he was pretty sure that was near a beach. “We’re going to the beach,” Steve said smugly. He grinned and looked out the window. Surf shops were starting to appear. His heart was pounding. He wasn’t even sure why. A lot had led up to this. When he looked back, Billy was smiling softly but his eyes were red. “Hey.” Steve said. “Please tell me what is the matter.” “Nothin’,” Billy whispered. He shrugged. “I just… It’s nothin’. Quit it.” Steve didn’t say anything but he reached over to rub at the back of Billy’s neck which is what he defaulted to when Billy was off but didn’t want to talk about it. They turned a corner and Steve saw the ocean. Steve gasped and he heard Billy sniffle. Billy rubbed his eye but he was grinning as they drove closer and closer to the brilliant stretch of blue. Steve had seen the ocean, technically. From very far away. At least he thought he had a couple of times from high up enough. It might have been his mind playing tricks on him. L.A. was smoggy as hell, he thought he might have mistook the ocean for a break in the haze of brown once or twice. Billy, Steve realized, was taking him to not just any beach but Venice Beach. They parked behind a hot pink building and Billy sat for a moment and took a deep breath and sniffed. He got out and grabbed Steve’s hand and started to lead him along almost before Steve could shut his door. He almost had to jog to keep up with Billy. It was a Sunday in June so it was crowded. They walked about a block and cut between two more brightly painted buildings where people sat at patio tables drinking beers. Everything there was so goddamn colorful and then Steve almost stopped short at the sheer spectacle of the beach. There was the ocean! The sand! And hordes of...weirdos! There were roller-skaters everywhere, in scandalously skimpy suits. There were body-builders dressed equally skimpy working out in a gym right on the sand. There was music coming from everywhere. They dodged a bunch of skateboarders and then a red-headed dude on roller-skates and in gold sequined shorts whizzed past Steve and tossed him a wink. Billy only had his eyes on the ocean, his hand squeezing Steve’s, and he yanked him along. “Come on,” Billy muttered. “Um. I packed up our trunks and some towels and shit in the car. That’s what I was doing this morning.” Steve followed him through the sand. It felt like walking on another planet. There was music coming from everywhere. Kites blew around on the wind. He looked at Billy and saw his mouth pinched tight. He was obviously trying not to cry. At the shore, Billy toed off his flip flops and Steve followed suit and Billy took him to where the waves came foaming up to meet the shore and Steve felt the Pacific ocean wash over his feet. He grinned at Billy, his blonde California boy with the ocean eyes, and felt a particularly strong rush of adoration. Billy wore a shaky smile but Steve saw him began to cry and he muttered, “Fuck,” and let go of Steve to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Steve heard him choke a little and closed in quick, holding Billy’s cheeks between his palms. “Baby,” Steve whispered. “Baby…” “No, it’s… I’m not sad,” Billy said. “Or anything.” “Okay?” He clutched Steve’s hips, tears ran down his face as he looked up at Steve but he was smiling. “I wanted this for... so long, Harrington.” Harrington. Billy hardly ever called him Harrington anymore. But he did when he was thinking of the past. “I know.” He wiped Billy’s tears away his thumbs. “The last time I was even at the beach was with my mom, ya know and…” “Ooh...” “Yeah. I wanted the next time to be with you,” Billy whispered. “From the beginning. I didn’t think it would ever happen for so long before...with all the shitstorms and…I got, I dunno, freaked out about bringing you because...I dunno, I can’t explain it.” “Lot of build up?” Steve said. He kissed Billy’s cheek.

“Yeah. I guess. It’s...so much.”

“But now we’re here,” Steve said, and he kissed Billy’s warm wet salty lips.

“Yeah,” Billy whispered against his mouth. He sniffed and wrapped his arms around Steve. “Yeah, now we’re home.”

[galacticlee]

The Entertainment Conflicts

 These prompts made me cry they're amazing holy quiznack

For some reason, Tumblr decided to delete this ask, but here are your shidge ficlets, @rebelgirlmatrix1213

1)Soft!Shidge + music = my heart attack waiting to happen

And for 2) I got into Stranger Things only a few weeks ago, and I know for a fact they would love it. Besides, couples fighting over TV shows is the best, so why not.

Prompt from this post (x)

1)

It was all started when Pidge snooped through his playlist one night before dinner.

Music was a welcomed privilege to have, and the Paladins hadn't realized the quietness of the void of space until it had departed them. Thus, once the five returned to their home planet, melodies were blasted through out their cars, homes, and whatever hang-outs they attended, the unmistakable urge to jump up and wildly dance as if no one was watching stronger than ever. Each earthling had their genre of tunes that they preferred; Keith loved old rock music, Hunk a fan of classical, and etcetera. The tunes that would exhale from the local stations were a blend of 'southern' and whatever their parents would listen to, the satellite edition blasting heavy-beated pop that would threaten to break a car's speakers or Broadway show tunes that no one in the universe could ever get quite right. It took him a while, but the Black Paladin finally found his comfort songs.

Shiro rocked out to whatever his tiny girlfriend would, thus the songs that would echo throughout the walls of their home vastly consisted of indie rock and whatever slow, electronic beats she felt fit the pair's collective emotion. The genre grew on him, creating a soft spot in his mind for anything that reminded him of Pidge. His now vast collection of memories with her included the pair with ear buds stretched between them, whether it be in bed, walking across busy city sidewalks, or huddled together on a crowded tram. Dancing together in their kitchen, or bedroom, or shower was a common event, socks or bare feet sliding and squirming across the tile or wood floor with ladles or hairbrushes or hands used as would-be microphones. Music was the warmth of her figure next to him in the early gold morning, the cooling touch of her fingers trailing across the back of his neck amidst steaming water, and the soft melody of her voice dancing from her lab as she worked on some intergalactic project. Anything that reminded him of her, especially a band or artist, helped his day go by.

Thus, as he explored her playlist, he began to grow a love for Lindsey Stirling.

He expected to be made fun of, as was the norm when either of the couple found a new, freaking-out-about thing to get behind. The teasing was always loose, always comfortable, but he couldn't quite put his metallic finger on why he kept the artist tucked in his pocket. Yet, he did, humming the tunes of the songs he could remember and sneaking his favorites into her phone.

But he could never hide anything from the intelligent Holt.

"Soooooo," She started, leaning over the kitchen counter with her feet kicking in the air, thumbs pressing against his phone's screen. Her smile was audible through her words, though he couldn't decipher if it was coy, sympathetic, or incredulous. "I see you have a favorite electric violinist."

He near dropped the spatula he was holding, mouth drawing together into a thin line and hand around a saucepan tightening whilst his face began to sting. Shiro stirred its contents faster, a tad bit nervously. "Hmm, what about it?"

He braced himself for the incoming roll of the honey-shaded eyes, or the awful violin impression, but they never seemed to arrive. Shiro glanced up from the pan, throwing his eyes over his shoulder and toward her. She wiggled in place, smile wide as she swung her legs back and forth against the cabinet and phone pressed in her lap. She fiddled with the sink's taps, choosing her next words with a pursed lip.

"Master of Tides or Crystalize?"

"What?"

"Master of Tides, then."

 He narrowed his eyes, blinking as he ceased the stirring and reprocessed the statement. Pidge's freckled features were glowing, intelligent grin shining at her partner as she squirmed off the marble slab and neared him. Fingers pressed against the screen of his phone, her steps became bouncy, shoulders moving back and forth as a rhythm began to exit its speakers. He instantly recognized the noise, the thump of a beat fading out of the device and into his ears.

"No teasing?" He questioned, dropping the hand from the dish as she snatched onto it and twirled it around her.

Pidge shrugged, stuffing the phone in her pocket after transferring it to the speakers hidden around the home. "I may or may not have an obsession with her as well," She admitted, caramel freckles flushed as Katie unrolled his arm. "And I might know most of them by heart."

"Might?" The food was now forgotten, utensil set on an unoccupied burner as she grabbed his other hand, the melody that bled through the hidden speakers she installed for God knows why picking up its pace. The tune was familiar to him and appeared to be with her as they slinked across the kitchen floor, feet turning and hands clenched around each other's. She rose on her tip-toes, moving an arm to position on his broad shoulders.

"Oh, so we're really dancing now?"

"You call this dancing?"

He grinned as they moved, raising his metallic limb as she twirled underneath it, giving a snort and a roll of her energetic eyes in response. The song was faster, livelier as the pair's pace increased, knee and ankle-high socks sliding across frigid tile and arms dropped when dancing became more of a flail-your-arms-to-the-tune-and-feel-good sort of feat. They spun and waved and tossed and turned, grins breaking into uncontrollable laughter as the pace of the song hurried and slowed, on and on again. By the end of the song, both were wheezing from chuckling, Pidge's hands pressed to Shiro's cheeks and his upon her wrists as the electric instruments washed away, leaving an out-of-breath couple and a steady beat that was soon to past.

He was glad she snooped through his phone.

2)

"Jancy will never top Mileven, Shiro, how dare you!" She shouted, pointing a finger toward him as she stretched away from him, digging her feet into the sofa's cushion. Shiro's face furrowed back at her as he leaned over, near spilling the contents of the bowl that lay in his lap.

"Jonathon and Nancy will always be the best paring in the show, Pidge." Shiro's voice was firm, and his steel grey eyes burned in the back of her head, but she stuck to her argument as she climbed back and thrust her fist into the sweetened kettle corn, stuffing her face full of it and resting her feet on his arm while awaiting him to continue. "Even the insane conspiracy theorist said that they belong together, and even Steve and the jocks though they were dating in Season One. So the Jancy plot is stronger than the Mileven."

She waited until he made a move for the corn to retaliate with her . "Sure, but think about it. Eleven and Mike are part of the main five or six that are the core of the series. Name a more iconic duo than them."

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "Alright. Batman and Robin. Spiderman and Deadpool. Coran and his moustache is also-"

She pursed her lips. "Coran is not an acceptable answer-"

"Should we even get on the Jopper subje-"

The two were interrupted by the screen in front of them thundering aggressively, the pair's heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of their collctive favorite show, Stranger Things. Pidge had come across the hit series while preparing to dive into the depths of Netflix one day, watched the first season, and promptly demanded her partner watch it alongside her. It was an instant hint, and both absorbed the irony of the government-hiding-secrets trope that they knew all too well about. And, as was the trouble of being a fan (or in this case, stan) and having your significant other be the same, it offered either pure happiness when you completely agree, or heated arguments in any other alternative.

For these two, it was indefinitely the latter.

Pidge squirmed closer to Shiro, tucking into his side as his arm fell instinctively over her shoulder. They sat in a few minuets of silence, watching as a group of kids biked down a road, only then speaking after the credits rolled and the 'Play next episode' button appeared. She turned her head to the side, strands of hair that fell out of her incredibly messy bun tickling the back of her neck as she spoke her following words with childish determination.

"We need to give Keith the Steve Harrington hair-cut."

Shiro exhaled a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Do you think he would really allow us to style his hair, much less give him a style from the 80's?"

The brunette rolled her eyes as she reached for the kettle corn, nudging the collar of her (Shiro's. It was Shiro's, but it as hers) shirt back over her bare, pale shoulder. "He's had a mullet for, like, seven years at least, and a mullet is one of the things that defined the eighties! We might as well have the damn thing piled taller than his Lion," Pidge reasoned, throwing a hand out to emphasize her statement as the other reached for the snack-bowl. Her only response was another shake of the head and a gesture to play the next episode in addition to Shiro's head slowly dipping to the side and resting on her covered shoulder. The opening minuets finished, theme starting up with it's scarlet-outlined letters floating across the screen when Pidge grabbed his flesh hand, turning her head to whisper in his ear.

"Hey, Shiro."

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I could make us have Eleven's powers?" Her golden eyes glittered, mouth forming into a curious smirk as she watched all of the ideas of consequence fire off in Shiro's synapses. The bowl of kettle corn was trashed as both moved quickly, Pidge aiming to leap away but was pinned down to the sofa by her much bigger, much stronger boyfriend. She gave a slight pout, forcing herself to restrain her laughter in her throat. His eyes were narrowed, the white patch of hair falling in between their eyes as he shook his head.

"Bad Idea. Bad, bad idea." He answered, tapping his fingers against her wrists which he held to the sofa's arm rest. Her response was an exaggerated sigh and a roll of her eyes, though her grin broke though her poorly cobbled-together pout while her freckled cheeks folded up.

"We just watched an eleven year-old girl flip a van, though," She reasoned, wrapping her legs around his torso as she flung a hand out to the screen, lips pressed together as she attempted to illustrate the failing point. The episode they had watched seemingly hundreds of times was becoming white noise, conversation no longer about Pidge running off to her lab but about keeping each other's focus. As Shiro listened on, he realized what he would say in the next few seconds could very well get him kissed, or get him killed. "That could help us defend the universe!"

"Only the kind of person who puts Mileven at top priority would say that."

"Don't you start-"