#to the point where steve will put his fingers in billy's mouth and call him a good boy but it's still not gay u guys

[magniloquent-raven]

so. yknow how water-based lube can get all tacky pretty quick but you can make it slick again with a lil spit

got me thinking about billy being. billy lmao.

like, him and steve are jerking off together as platonic bro pals because it's fine if they don't make eye contact and they're watching heterosexual porn okay, it doesnt matter that steve is more focused on the breathy little grunts directly to his left than the ecstatic wailing crackling through his tv's shitty speakers, or that billy has spread his knees far enough that their thighs are touching, or that his elbow keeps brushing steve's side and it's a shock to his system every time. it's. it's fine. him and tommy used to do this all the time. and it only got weird like...once or twice.

but anyways. steve's been using some low-quality watery lube he pocketed at a pharmacy because he couldn't bear to look the cashier in the eye and pay actual money for this, and billy side-eyed him when he pulled it out of his nightstand. "too good to use vaseline like the rest of us, king steve?" because of course he did, but it's fine, it's whatever, he likes the way it feels okay?

except it gets sticky so fast and he keeps having to reapply which. is annoying. but. but then.

he's reaching blindly for the bottle when billy grabs his wrist, grabs him, with the hand that was just on his dick. stops him from picking up the bottle with an annoyed huff, like steve's the one who's done something here. and steve's got his mouth open, words on the tip of his tongue, incredulous words, anxious words, caught in his throat with his laboured breath when billy turns towards him—all flushed cheeks and dark eyes, sweat gleaming on his chest, his pants undone and, oh god steve shouldnt have looked—

and billy. spits. on his dick.

his fingers are a vice around steve's wrist, their knees brush, eyes locked, and the girl on screen moans, long and loud, as billy's saliva dribbles down the flushed, sensitive skin of steve's cock.

"try it now," billy says, unmoving, not looking away.

and steve. pauses. slowly, hesitantly, wraps a hand around himself. and.

he gives an experimental stroke, keenly aware of billy's eyes burning into him.

oh.

huh.

that's...

he keeps going, spurred on by the way billy's grip on his arm tightens, by the coiled heat in his gut, by the tingle at the base of his spine and the knowledge of what exactly he's feeling, wet and slick against his palm. his head falls back, eyes closed, he's closer than he should be, not a single coherent thought in his head beyond a burning need and the image of billy's tongue running slowly along his bottom lip.

he finishes, making a mess of his stomach with a pitiful little sound caught in his chest.

billy hasn't moved a muscle. and steve. steve thinks maybe they should make things weird more often.

tag list ppl i swear imma post something other than porny rambling soon (probably) lmfaofjfjdk @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove 💕

[strangermerrick]

hands to yourself, harrington! [steve h.]

🖤 A/N: Thank you so much for the love you showed my Billy fic! I hadn't realized how much fun I would have by posting my work, so thank you for giving me the outlet to do so! I hope you all enjoy this one as well! 😋

🖤 Warnings: suggestive language, Steve's tight ass, complete fluff!

🖤 Summary: “i’m putting a ring on it tomorrow,” he announces, throwing his hands in the air as he finishes off the garlic bread. “it’s so good.” 

🖤 Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

the pasta sauce simmered on the stovetop and you were hurriedly trying to grab the garlic bread out of the oven without burning your fingers on the aluminum pan. 

“ow, ow, ouch!” you yelp as you let go at the last second, listening to the pan crash against the stove. sucking in a quick breath, you wipe your hands on the floral-printed dish towel and rubbed your face.

today was friday. every friday, you and your boyfriend steve had date night. most nights, it consisted of you two going out to the movies and grabbing a bite to eat at one of the diners, maybe even sharing a milkshake which steve practically begged for the cherries from. 

those were always fun because they normally ended with you two curled up in your bed together, gazing at one another like two hopeless teenagers in love who were against the world in every aspect. 

and maybe that was true. maybe that’s how it was. whichever fairytale you made yourself believe, it didn’t take away from the fact that date nights with your steve were your favorite. 

but tonight you insisted on something different, something more intimate. you wanted to cook your boyfriend a meal and spend the night in together. essentially, you wanted to skip the movie and diner, and combine it with dinner at home. you had plenty of vhs tapes to go through of movies you two had seen numerous times before with risky business being the top choice. steve loved to make you laugh when he stripped to his underwear and button down, put his sunglasses on, and danced to old time rock n roll as he slid over your floors, nearly crashing into something nearby. 

“honey! i’m homeeeee!” steve’s sweet voice calls out. your front door swings open and your heart races in your chest. 

you quickly grabbed the wooden spoon and stirred your red sauce as the pasta began to boil on the back burner. 

“in the kitchen, stevie!” you call out. 

moments later, you’re met with his familiar face. dark brown hair that was always flowing and pushed back framed his face, and black sunglasses hung on the inside of his white tee. pretty brown eyes danced through yours and across the stove to where the food was, his eyes illuminating when he saw bread. 

“all this for me, baby?” steve laughs as he walks over and picks up a very hot piece of garlic bread. “ow! shit!” he hisses, shaking his fingers and bringing them to his lips where he sucked before replacing his reddening digit with the garlic bread. “oh, that’s the good stuff.” 

swatting his shoulder, you roll your eyes. “that’s supposed to be for dinner.” you scold him.

“but i haven’t eaten anything. i was waiting all day for this.” he playfully argues, a hand wrapping around your waist. he kisses your neck after swallowing and takes another bite out of the bread. “bread tastes awesome,” 

rolling your eyes again, you look over your shoulder at him. “well, since you’re munching early on the bread, do you mind tasting this?” you point your head down at the sauce.

“what kind of man would i be if i said no?” he chuckles, resting his hand on the edge of the counter and leaning back.

a soft smile finds your face as you dip the spoon into the pan and bring it to his lips. steve’s eyes sparkle in yours and he opens his mouth, keeping his gaze firmly held on your face. accepting the sauce into his mouth, you waited patiently for any sort of sign that it tasted good. 

the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head confirmed your thoughts. a sigh of relief escapes you as steve wags his finger, asking for more.

“please?” he ensures to add. nodding your head, you spoon-feed him another bite and this time he moans. “damn,” he groans.

“that good?” you laugh. 

“i’m putting a ring on it tomorrow,” he announces, throwing his hands in the air as he finishes off the garlic bread. “it’s so good.” 

you laugh and feel him wrap his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. you can’t help but feel right at home when he holds your waist and lays gentle kisses over your soft skin. “if the date continues to go this well, i may have to try my hand next week with dinner at my place.” 

you gasp, staring at him as you turn the stove off and prepare to drain your pasta. 

“steve harrington cooks for me? am i dreaming?”

steve watches you break away from his hold and carry the piping hot of boiling water to the stove where you pour the pasta into the metal colander. 

“think i can’t?” he tempts you as he sways back and forth to the ABBA song playing on your stereo. jonathan had very so kindly made a mixtape with just their music since he knew they were your favorite group. waterloo fills the kitchen and steve dances awkwardly in time, but enough to have you laughing.

“i never said that, sweetheart.” you shoot him a wink. “now move that tight little ass, i don’t want to burn you.” you shoo him away from the pot.

steve’s eyes widen. “so you do think my ass is tight?” he checks behind himself. 

scoffing, you pour the angel hair pasta into the pot and begin to stir. “hand me the cheese from over there, babe?” you point to the bowl filled with parmesan. steve hands it to you kindly and steals another kiss from the corner of your mouth. 

“my ass?” steve chuckles, attempting to steal another piece of bread, but this time you swat his hand.

“hands to yourself, harrington!” you wag your finger in his face. “fill up on bread and you won’t have room for dessert. and yes, your ass is tight. i mean you can’t help but stare when you wear those.” you point to the blue jeans clinging to his lower half.

steve trails his eyes below and stifles a laugh. but then he remembered. dessert.

“what’s on the dessert menu?” he asks, dropping his voice an octave. his flirtatious nature kicks itself into its highest gear as he leans seductively against the countertop. 

“ice cream,” you don’t tear your eyes from him. “brownies are in the oven too.” 

“oh.” steve exhales. 

you couldn’t help but smile, biting your lip. “annnnnnnd me… only if you’re good.”

steve sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “good? do you remember who you’re talking to, baby?” he slips his hands around your hips and pulls you forward, tearing you away from the almost finished dish. 

gasping, a laugh cuts through the air as you focus on his lips. “i do,” you nod your head. 

steve smirks and leans down, tucking his fingertips underneath your chin and tilting your head back so he can observe you. “you’re so pretty.” he says through a breathy sigh. 

wrapping your arms securely around his waist, you lean up and kiss him tenderly. steve melts against your mouth the moment your lips touch, and your mind suddenly forgoes the thought of food. the only source of nutrition you needed was standing right here in front of you wearing those tight little skinnies with his perfect brown hair and his warm touch that would have you mesmerized for days. 

“stevie,” you whine his nickname. you did want to finish this date. “d-dinner,” you gasp as his mouth falls to your neck. he quickly kisses over the sweet spot on your throat, his tongue darting out to wet the muscle of your neck as his teeth gently bite into the flesh, not too hard, but enough to feel you jump against him. 

“but dessert sounded so good,” he whispers, however, he knows you spent a lot of time preparing this. so he willingly pulls back but not without pressing his tongue to yours for one more deep kiss that has your head spinning. “i’ll be good.” he promises, throwing his hands up as a means of waving his white flag of surrender. 

smiling harder, you turn your eyes back to the pasta that was currently soaking up the sauce. 

“grab us a drink from the fridge while i plate everything up?” you ask sweetly.

“of course, baby.” steve grins, shooting you a wink and walks to the fridge.

friday nights spent inside the house would soon become your favorite date nights with steve harrington. 

[medusapelagia]

The scorpion and the frog - Harringrove Love Fest 11th February

written for @harringrovelovefest

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Prompt: You give love a bad name TW: angst with happy ending

Steve sighs in his dressing room while getting ready to shot, Robin, his personal assistant, got everything ready for him: his favorite snacks, some mango-flavored water, and even his lucky charm, but Steve knew that this movie was going to be the hardest he ever shot.

His reflection looks back at him, mocking him, and he brushes his hair with his fingers trying to fight the anxiety: he looks good, he knows he does, but inside he feels raw. Gulping some flavored water he takes a last glimpse at the script, it’s the first day of shooting so it’s just a sort of warm-up for everyone, still, he wants this to be over as soon as possible.

He takes a pair of Ray-ban and goes outside where the producer is waiting for him.

“Good morning, everyone. Sorry for the delay. I had a phone call…” He starts, but the producer shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, we are still waiting for him.”

Him.

William fucking Hargrove.

“Oh. Is he late?”

“Are you surprised? He is always late.” Max, Billy's assistant, complains “You could start by shooting your scene if you want to.” She suggests while she keeps calling the other actor with her mobile phone; Steve turns toward the producer who is yelling something at the phone with someone else and shrugs, he can’t play an entire scene on his own, he needs at least some direction.

“Are you feeling lost, pretty boy?” 

Steve doesn’t turn to greet Hargrove “You are late.”

“Am I?” The actor asks, shaking his blond mane like a lion.

“You know you are, dick head, now get ready, everyone was waiting for you!” Max scolds him, but Billy ignores her and throws his jacket to one of the assistants.

“I’m ready.”

“You haven’t even taken a look at the script!” Max yells and the boy turns annoyed.

“I don’t need to, Maxine,” he replies and the girl glares at him for using her complete name “I know the script by heart, tell me which scene we are going to shoot and I will be fine.” Then he turns toward a blond girl “Can you fix my makeup, sugar?”

“Chrissy. The name is Chrissy!” Another blond-haired boy replies and Billy turns toward him.

“I don’t give a fuck about what her name is, is that clear? I just care that she does her fucking job. Do you have something to say about that?” Hargrove growls, and the other boy is ready to snarl something back but the girl puts a hand on his arm.

“It’s fine Jason, we are already late. Mr. Hargrove, please follow me.” She says pointing toward the trailer where she has everything ready.

“What a piece of shit.” Robin whispers when Hargrove disappears inside the trailer “I don’t know why Murray chose him as a protagonist.”

Steve sighs, he knows perfectly well why he did: Hargrove is a rising star, every movie has taken at least 50 million at the box office, and he is a safe bet, not like Steve who used to be a baby star and now is working hard to make the leap and finally became a serious actor, not the boy that used to play the kid in that television series years ago.

The ex-child prodigy was so happy at the table read when he first met Hargrove: their chemistry was undeniable and Murray immediately decided to add even more scenes between the two of them, which sounded like a dream at the time, but now Steve is deeply regretting it because more scene together lead to more time spent together and…

“Still daydreaming, pretty boy?”

Steve bites his tongue and smiles back, feeling the sour taste of bile in the back of his mouth “I’m ready when you are Mr. Hargrove.” He replies avoiding the piercing blue eyes.

“Mr. Hargrove is my father.” The blond actor replies offended “Never call me like that again.” Then he lifts Steve’s chin with a finger “I thought we were on first name base, Stevie.” 

If first name base means getting fucked out of his mind in the back of Billy’s Camaro, yeah, they were, but Billy made it clear that he didn’t want any commitment and Steve accepted, not knowing that the damage was already done, that his stupid heart was already in love with the famous actor.

“We were, Billy.” Steve replies, moving away from Billy’s grip and turning toward the set “Are you ready or what?” And Steve should have known better than to reply like that because the innocent smile Billy gives him breaks him even harder.

“Such a hard worker.” Billy says out loud, but when he gets closer to Steve he whispers “Good boys get prizes, did you know that?”

Steve swallows, and curses when he feels something twitching in his pants, but keeps himslef focused: they have a job to do and he can’t fuck this up. If he plays his card well he might even get a Golden Globe nomination.

***

Billy can be an asshole outside the set, but when they are working he is very professional: he never asks for a moment of rest and it’s always eager to hear the director’s opinion on his performance, ready to redo the same scene even fifty times until everyone is satisfied, which today means that Billy grinds against Steve almost all day. One time he is cocky, one time he is sweet, another is angry, and all that Steve has to do is say his line, get a chair, and sits with his legs spread, waiting to find out if Billy will crawl at his feet, or stomping toward him and yank him by his collar, but every single time the scene ends with a passionate kiss between the two of them.

Well, not really the two of them, more like… their characters.

Because Steve is not Andrew and Billy is not Thomas, as Steve keeps repeating to himself every time that Billy’s lips find his and they kiss.

Such a perfect chemistry. 

That’s what Murray said the first time that they read the script together and he wasn’t wrong, only for Billy is just acting while Steve has feelings that have been hurt more than once during the time they have spent together.

Steve pretended to be ok every time Billy drove him home after they met in some seedy motel where nobody asked for their IDs and they could hide in the shadow, away from the public eye, but now that they are so close to each other there is nowhere to run and Steve knows that he is falling for the beautiful actor again, and again, and again and he can read in Robin’s expression that she knows it and she doesn’t like it. At all.

“You must learn how to protect yourself, Steve.” She says while he is resting in his trailer waiting to shoot his next scene “That boy uses you like a toy and you always let him.” She gently scolds him and Steve knows that she is right and he is trying very hard to fight his feelings for Hargrove, but the angel’s face boy promised him Heaven… only to put him through Hell.

“I know that you are right, and I’m doing my best.” He replies, getting out to smoke a cigarette while Robin complains that he will smell like an ashtray for hours.

Steve leans against the trailer, one leg bent against the big wheel and a cigarette in his hands complaining in a soft voice about his stupid love life. If only Billy wasn’t so fucking nice when he brushes Steve’s hair away from his face; if only he didn’t praise him and his work on any occasion, if only… but Hargrove is like that, he likes to play with him like a cat with a mouse.

“He is more of a scorpion kind of guy.” Max says and Steve startles.

“I didn’t see you!” Steve murmurs, and the girl smirks but doesn’t reply, pointing at Steve’s cigarette pack and taking one that she lights with a familiar Zippo, the one he bought in a gas station weeks ago.

“It’s Billy’s.” She confirms “I took it weeks ago and he is still complaining about it.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, surely Hargrove has enough money to buy another one if he wants to.

“Wouldn’t have the same emotional value.” She replies and Steve blushes. It’s not special but it has a skull smoking a cigarette that resembles the one on Billy’s biceps.

“Listen, Billy is an asshole, I know that, but you must understand where he comes from.” Max says, stomping the cigarette's butt to the ground “His father… his father was not a good person, ok? And I know because he married my mom. After a couple of years of marriage and many trips to the ER later, my mom left him and she took Billy with her. He was always good-looking, you know? Everyone wanted a piece of him and he was clever enough to take advantage of that and become one of the most famous actors of the moment: always ready to give just enough of himself to get what he wanted but not enough to get them too close.” She turns toward Steve “With you things are different. He cares about you but he doesn’t know how to prove it to you. He is still his old asshole self. It's like the story of the scorpion and the frog. When the scorpion stings the frog, dooming them both, the frog asks the scorpion why it stung him, and he replies…”

“I am sorry, but I couldn't resist, it's my character.” Steve concludes for her, still holding the filter of the long-gone cigarette “So what you are saying is that I'm the frog and I'm destined to get stung by him because he can't avoid it?”

Max shrugs “Just wanted you to know that you are different from him, but for him changing is hard, even for you. Just... don't let him go. Yet.”

“Yet?” Steve asks, confused, and the girl gives him the Zippo.

“Yet.” She confirms leaving Steve even more confused.

***

On the last day of shooting the director and the producer invite everyone to a big party to celebrate, and Robin somehow convinces Steve to join “We are celebrating and everyone else will be there! You are the co-protagonist, you can’t miss it!” She insists, but the idea of seeing Billy flirting with everyone is killing him. Steve does his best to come up with an excuse, but when the girl comes to his hotel’s room with a smoking he is out of excuses. They are late to the party, everyone is already half drunk on champagne. Steve gives a nod of denial to the waiter who offers him a glass of bubbles and does his best to avoid everyone, even if Robin told him more than once that if he really wants to be taken as a serious actor he should get better at public relations.

He is staring out of the window when he smells it: Billy’s cologne.

“Nice evening, huh?” The blond actor says, getting closer and Steve nods, turning toward the window and staring at their reflections that now are so close.

“Yeah. Congratulations, I heard that even if the movie is not even ready you are already on the list for the Oscar.”

“Are you jealous, pretty boy?” Billy asks with a smirk.

Steve gives him a self-deprecating smile “I already knew you were a good actor. Great even.”

“What does it mean?” Billy growls, stepping toward Steve and almost trapping him between his body and the big window.

“Stop it. Someone could see us.” Steve complains trying to free himself.

“Is that the problem? You don’t want to be seen with me?”

“I’m tired of your lies!” Steve growls, turning abruptly toward Billy “I don’t give a fuck if you are a scorpion or whatever! I don’t want to be your fucking frog! I deserve better!” He sobs, feeling the tears falling from his eyes.

Billy’s smile gets softer “You do.”He whispers on his lips and bends a little until, waiting for Steve to say no, and when he doesn't their lips collide.

Steve is too surprised and confused to stop him, so he lets Billy kiss him and somehow it feels like the first real kiss they ever shared.

“Tell, me what do you want, Steve?” Billy whispers, his long eyelashes fluttering so sensually.

“Wanna be yours…” Steve replies, hating himself for being always so honest “But I don’t want to end up like the frog in the story.

Billy nods, wiping Steve’s tears with his thumb “I’m not good for you. We both know that.” He says “But you are like a fucking magnet to me. This stupid movie wouldn’t even be worth the ticket price if it wasn’t for you. You are great Steve. A great actor, a great person. I’m not like that. I use people for my own purposes and…”

“Can’t you just… trying to stop doing that? For me?” Steve asks, and maybe is the warmth of Billy’s hand on his cheek or maybe Steve is just too stupid and too honest, but the words come out of his mouth before he really thinks about them.

“What if I can’t? What if I’m just a silly scorpion?”

Steve doesn’t want to be the frog, he really doesn’t, but he can’t avoid replying “Then we’ll drown together in the river.”

Billy smiles at him, the soft secret smile that he gave him just a couple of times, the one that feels real, the one that feels warm like a soft blanket, and Steve doesn’t know if he just condemned himself, but when they leave the party, hand to hand, and Billy drives him to his rented house and not to a motel, he feels that this is something new.

Something worth it.

[xtrafluffyteddy]

Hi this is my first time asking for a request but Steve x Eddie x billy x reader and them probably grocery shopping or hosting a movie night with the kids and robin? Or or maybe when star court was open and they visit scoops ahoy or when billy was working as a life guard? Thank you if you write something. 🌸

Of course chicken noodle!

Pairing: Eddie munson x reader, Steve harrington x reader, Billy Hargrove x reader

Mentions: uhhhh not much really!

You had been busy in the kitchen all day preparing for the big movie night you were having “Billy can you run to the store and get me some butter and some chocolate chips I forgot to get some like a dumbass” you bonked your head with your knuckles a bit before turning back to the garlic knots you were making. He places his hands on your waist from behind kissing the top of your head before reaching past you to grab his keys “be back soon darlin” he does his signature wink as he leaves the house his loud ass Camaro disappearing down the road.

You just shake your head and roll your eyes as you rush to the oven to take out the spinach dip you had been perfecting “Stevie!” You call out to your other boyfriend who’s splayed out on the couch. “Stevie!” You call again this time he gets up shuffling to you “What’s up babe” before he can finish the sentence you shove a chip with the spinach dip into his mouth causing him to do the dragon thing due to it being really hot “ss really gwood” he says through a full mouth before he swallows “it’s really good baby” he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before going back to the couch.

When Billy finally returns you start making the chocolate chip cookies swaying your hips to some song that came on the radio “you should be listening to real music sweetheart” Eddie says sneaking up behind you to steal some chocolate chips “not if real music is gonna bust my eardrums darlin” you roll your eyes and laugh softly before smacking his hand when he goes for seconds “those are for the cookies darlin have some chips or somethin” you point to a few bowls of different chips “can’t I just have you instead” he wiggles his eyebrows “not after that line nope” you giggle and kiss his cheek before looking past him “shit shit shit you gotta go pick up the kids and Robin! Git git go” you quickly hand eddie his keys and shove him out the door “Jesus Christ” you continue working on cooking finally finishing the last batch of snacks.

You look around your bare living room before feeling like somethings missing and rush off down the hall grabbing a bunch of pillows and blankets for the kids and Robin so they’ll be comfortable “honey honey!” Billy stops your pacing making you look up at him “everything’s perfect you’ve provided plenty for the brats” you flick his forehead at that comment “okay okay for the kids and Robin now it’s time for you to relax” and with that he’s picking you up setting sitting down on the couch with in his lap and your legs over Steve’s lap “but what if-“ you begin only to have your mouth covered by Billy “no buts everything’s perfect” he pulls his hand away when you lick his palm wiping his hand off his pajama pants.

When Eddie arrives you can already hear the kids being loud and bickering over who knows what “and I said-“ Mike began as he walked in with Eddie followed by Dustin, Will, El, Lucas, and Max “hey kiddos” you smile getting up pulling them all into a bear hug smooshing your cheeks against the tops of their heads “look at how big y’all are getting stop growing” you pout playfully before showing them where to put their stuff and where to sit “hey hey hey” you point to El and Mike who are about to get comfy cozied up together “5 feet or your dad’ll kill me” you wiggle your fingers and point to where they can sit “but you and Eddie- “ Mike begins ready to plead his case shutting up when you put your hands on your hips and just stare at him “don’t test me Michael” he knew to listen to you then, you only used his full name when you were gonna yell at him for doing something stupid.

“Anyways” your back to your cheery self pulling out a stack of vhs tapes y’all had bought from a thrift store when you first moved in “we’ve got horror, romance, sci-fi, etc. take your pick” you lay out the vhs tapes “I also rented a new vhs tape called the thing heard it’s pretty scary” you smile as they all agree to watch “The Thing” “alrighty get comfy I’ll grab the snacks and if you need to get on your pajamas or go to the bathroom do it now” and with that a few kids disappeared towards where they can get changed being shown the way by Eddie and Steve while Billy helps you grab the snacks setting them on the coffee table in front of the tv.

When everyone’s finally situated and comfortable you start the movie and smile when Eddie sits between your legs so you’ll play with his hair, Billy sitting to your right so he can hold your hand and share the blanket with you and Steve to your left so he can lay his head on your shoulder and hold your hand as well. This was the life you’d always dreamed of surrounded by kids with the loves of your life.

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Dirty Mouth.

Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Jerk!Billy/Dom!Billy Hargrove X Fem!Reader

Billy is your best friend and he hates when you cuss and is always trying to correct you, until one day he can’t stand it anymore.

Set in a universe where everyone goes to high school at the same time, after Star Court and Billy didn’t die.

Warning: oh this is dark, I mean just... yeah have fun with this. A little bit of cnc if you squint(don’t squint to hard), blood, name calling, mean Billy, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cream pie, fingering, spanking, biting, praise, degradation, mentions/actions of smoking and drinking, cussing, fingers in mouth, uncharacteristic Billy.

A/N: I feel like this may get squeamish a little, it’s definitely very mature. So Please read the warning very carefully.

“Shut the fuck up!” You gasp, staring wide eyed at Robin sitting across from you in the tiny circle of friends. You see Billy flinch out of the corner of your eye, taping your thigh with his boot as you try to ignore him.

“Right there! In front of everyone and God!” She crosses her heart making the group burst into laughter. Robin smiles proudly at her accomplishment, having spread the latest gossip of Jason Carver who threw up and nearly passed out dissecting a pig in biology. Eddie is wiping imaginary tears from his eyes as Steve clutches his stomach, trying to hold in the swing of beer he’d just taken moments prior. Billy on the other hand is silently nursing his own beer, eyes trained on you with quiet anger fuming through him.

“That’s fucking grand! That dipshit deserves it.” You giggle, downing your last beer, unaware of Nancy kicking Eddie’s leg to point out Billy’s obvious sour mood.

Everyone knew Billy as a time bomb, still dealing with how he’d been treated by his father his entire life and then the after math of Star Court. He truly was working at being nicer, working on his relationship with everyone around him, mainly his little sister Max. That alone is why everyone always smiled and gave him the space he needed when he began to get agitated or aggressive, and it looks like one of those times now.

The clock chimes 2 in the morning by the time Steve and Robin trickle out of your trailer, and you busy yourself with cleaning up the remnants of your little ‘party’. Effectively side stepping Billy as he helps you pick up pizza boxes, the silence not uncomfortable.

Although Billy is your best friend this is how most of your time together is spent, in quiet isolation, each of you doing your own thing while still enjoying the others company.

Billy drops onto the couch with a huff, watching as you deposit the last few beer cans into the trash. “Come here.”

Your eyes dance over to Billy, his body looks relaxed but there’s this hard set to his jaw that makes you a little uneasy.

“Why?”

“Just come here, come sit on my lap, dolly.”

You give an exasperated sigh when he pats his thigh.

“Don’t say shit like that to me Billy, you’re drunk.” You rest your fist on your hip, using the other to lean against the small counter. A flash of anger passes over Billy’s face but he stomps it down as quickly as it had reared up, pulling out the sweetest smile he can muster.

Raising the half empty beer he sloshes it’s contents about in the metallic cylinder, “Same beer sense I got here.” He sets it back on the floor, cocking his finger towards you. “Come sit on my lap, pretty girl. Now.”

There’s this edge to his voice that makes your muscles tense as Billy lulls his head to the side, watching you like a wolf would watch a lost sheep. You knew how to manage Billy’s anger, came with the territory, but there has been a number of instances where his demeanor puts even you on edge.

Gingerly walking towards him, you settle onto the couch instead of where he insisted, the twitching muscle in his jaw not going unnoticed on your part. “What’s wrong with you?” You finally ask, having kept the question to yourself since he showed up in a huff earlier in the night.

Billy grips your knee, large hand smoothing up and down the soft fat of your thigh, scrunching up your skirt as he goes, little by little. He hums quietly to himself before looking as your face.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, have I ever told you that?” You shake your head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “No? Mmm I’ve clearly been screwing up then, I’m just gonna have to tell you all the time to make it up to you.” His words are sticky sweet but there is still that tension visible in the outline of his jaw as his gaze travels over you.

“Billy, what are you doing? What the fuck Is the matter wi-“ Suddenly the fingers are wrapping around your jaw, drawing your face to his. The reigns he’s held on his emotions are quickly slipping with each word that leaves you mouth and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep his composure.

You freeze up, eyes wide as he gives your head a little shake, baby blue eyes searching your face. “How can such a pretty mouth say such dirty fucking words.”

Billy presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss, holding you in place even as you protest. He tastes of cigarettes and cherry chapstick, an odd combination not entirely unpleasant. He slants his lips over yours, tongue delving into your warm mouth taking dominance as his other hand wraps around the back of your thigh. He drags you onto his lap, your thighs cage his hard hips, and a whimper creeps from your throat as your cunt settles against the rough fabric of his jeans.

Managing to pull away you gasp for air, the feeling of Billy surrounding you, overloading your senses, and the few beers you had earlier, makes your brain groggy.

“B-Billy… shouldn’t do this… friends don’t do this…”

He looks at you coolly, his face doesn’t giving anything away as he hums, stroking a large hand over the swell of your ass, finger tips dragging just underneath the cotton of your pink panties as your small hands circle the wrist holding your jaw.

“That’s not the issue here dolly. The issue is that mouth of yours, you need to be taught a lesson.” He grips your ass so forcefully your hips buck in pain, dragging yourself along the fly of his jeans with a ragged whimper.

“S-stop… y-y-you’re being mean.”

“‘You’re being mean.’” Billy mocks, slipping his hand from your chin to circle your throat, applying enough pressure to pull you close and whisper in your ear. “You haven’t seen mean baby girl.”

Bills hand collides with your ass making you scream out in pain. Instinctively you try to scramble away but the hand that was on your throat is now wrapping around your waist hosting you up until your sternum meets his hard shoulder. Another slap has your fingers digging into the meat of his bicep as you squirm and yell.

“What’s the fuck are you doing?!”

Slap.

“Billy quit!”

Slap.

“S-Stop, yo-you’re fucking hurting me!”

Slap.

You are in tears, crying out after every sharp string of his palm connecting with your flesh, and you are positive there will be bruises by tomorrow.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

“Pl-please, please Bil-ly.” You hiccup, limply laying over his shoulder, strength giving out on you as you rest your head against the back of the couch. Billy’s stops at the crack in your voice, he lets his hold on you loosen, allowing your body to slip back onto his lap and you hide your face against his shoulder, unable to stop from sobbing.

Your guts are churning, apart of you wants to run away and hide from this version of Billy who just laid his hands on you. But another part wants to curl in closer, hold onto the man you call your best friend as he tries to comfort you.

“Shhh pretty girl. You did good, taking your punishment so well for me.” His lips ghost over the shell of your ear as he rubs your back, trying to soothe you. One of your hands curls into his shirt, the other still has a firm grip on his bicep, nails leaving angry indents that are sure to stay for a day or two if they didn’t bruise.

“N-no more.” You whimper, pressing your face in tighter as a tremble rakes down your spine.

“If you had listened to me about cussing the first time we would of never came to this. All you had to do was listen to me.” Your brain scrambles for a moment before you realize Billy is referring to the first time you two had met.

He had picked you out of a group of girls surrounding a lunch table, chattering away about whatever was the latest news at the time. You remember Billy walking up and leaning into the table in front of you, effectively shutting up the loud group by pointedly staring you down.

“What’s your name, dolly?” He’d grinned, a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Your nose had wrinkled, scrunching your beautiful face, as you looked him over. Dark wranglers, with a red button up half opened with tuffs of chest hair poking over. Your eyes had locked back with his as he smiled wider, showing off perfectly white teeth.

“None of your damn business.” The cocky grin had fallen slightly, the girls to your left had giggled at your remark. You held his stare with a smirk, long enough to get accustomed to his features before he stood up straight again.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be using language like that, better knock it off before someone puts you in your place.” Then he was walking away, leaving you stunned, fuming, and very intrigued.

Billy’s hand is now squeezing your hip, sucking you back into the present. “You with me?”

Leaning back you stare at the blond boy in shock, “You… spanked me because I cuss? Billy you cuss! A-all of our friends cuss!” Tears are still streaming down your checks at the pain, thighs shaking with the effort to keep yourself from sitting on his lap as he clicks his tongue to his teeth.

“They aren’t you, pretty girls like you don’t cuss. ‘S life your acting like some dirty whore and you aren’t.” There’s that tension in his jaw again but you stream forward, uncaring about the possible repercussions, as your own anger settles in your veins.

“Don’t cuss? Don’t cuss?! Well news flash asshole it’s 1985 and women aren’t prim and proper little house wives that men like YOU get to walk all over!!” You yell in his face as you wrestle against the arm still locked around your waist, smacking and pushing against his chest as he struggles to keep his hold on your flailing body. “Let me go!”

Billy tries to sit up, tries to flip you onto your back on the couch but you tip too far backwards, making you tumble to the ground, taking him with you with a surprise yelp. The hardwood floor knocks the breath from your chest as Billy lands on top of you, he’s quick to get on his knees though, caging you in between his thighs.

He snatches both your hands up into one of his, taking advantage of your surprise state and pinning you down. You don’t make it easy for him though. You begin to squirm relentlessly, profanities flying from your lips one after the other as you struggle to free yourself. “If you don’t let me up right now Billy Hargrove I will never fucking forgive you!”

He reaches for his belt, unfastening it with inhuman speed and rips it from the loops. Your eyes grow wide but before you can say anything else the belt is smacking against the wall across the room with a resonating THUD.

Billy easily flips you over despite your protest, manhandling you and repositioning your arms so they are pinned behind your back. He lifts you up until your knees are digging into the unforgiving wood and you’re kneeling in front of him.

“W-what are you doing?” You still at the sound of his zipper sliding down, then the feeling of his warm hand bunching your skirt over your ass makes you gasp, the rush of air making you feel almost dizzy.

“Well I had the thought in mind to give you a reward after taking your punishment so well but I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, dolly.” Billy tugs your arms, making you wince at the strain in your shoulders.

You want to look at him, he can’t be serious, this is all just some wild dream your brain has conjured up after Eddie rolled that blunt a few hours ago. It has to be.

You want to convince yourself of it, but as Billy smooths one callused hand across the roughed up skin of your ass causing a strangled whine to push out of your lungs you know there is no point. This is real, this is your Billy.

“Fuck… wish you could see how beautiful you look with my hand print on your ass.” Billy gives the bruised skin another firm slap making you cry out, tugging your arms against his grip.

Shaking your head quickly you whimper, “Please, no more… I can’t take anymore Billy.”

His laugh is dark, sinister above you and something inside your gut clenches, a delirious throbbing shoots through your body as Billy hooks his fingers into the elastic of your underwear.

“Oh baby… you’ll take whatever I give you. Every last bit of it.” He tugs your underwear down, the crotch sticking to your lips from arousal. “Shit… look at that pretty little pussy, soaking wet just for me.” He brushes a fingers between your lips, causing you to jerk in surprise. “Fuck you’re dripping, you like this don’t you? You like the feeling of me taking control of you… don’t you slut?”

He emphasizes the question with a thrust of his fingers, sinking two thick digits deep into your heat. Your soft cry fills the room, a mixture of pain and pleasure that has your head dropping, chin resting against your chest. Billy pulls you back towards him, thrusting and curling his fingers at a slow, agonizing pace that has your brain swimming in delirium.

Billy’s expert fingers have your moaning within seconds, hitting a spot inside you that has your toes curling in your socks, head rolling to the side, panting with your efforts to keep still. The stretch burns, his fingers working a spot on your gummy walls that has you biting your lip with the efforts not to moan out.

“Think about how much better this would feel if it was my cock splitting you open.” His breath is hot against the shell of your ear, causing your hips to stutter, rocking back against his hand taking him impossibly deeper. “You’d let me fuck your stupid, wouldn’t you? Lay there completely helpless waiting on me to tell you what to do. My good little fuck toy.”

You’re panting harder, giving up fighting yourself as you begin to grind your hips down onto his fingers, chasing that familiar tightness of your impending orgasm, pulling at the muscles of your stomach and shaking your thighs. You aren’t sure how much more you can take when suddenly Billy is pulling out.

He slips his fingers from your cunt dragging out a whine that sounds all too needy on your end. “Shh, open your mouth.” Billy instructs, releasing you hands at last letting you slump back against his chest, all too aware of his hard cock pressing against your sore ass.

Craning your neck you look at him, his eyes are glazed over and hooded with lust and a light dusting of pink on the apple of his cheeks are the only indication of what is transpiring between you. His demeanor a stark contrast to your shaken state.

Billy hovers his slick covered fingers over your lips and you clench your teeth together, shaking your head. Using his other hand he wraps his fingers around your jaw, squeezing painfully. “Open your fucking mouth.” The drop in his voice, the absolute venom makes new tears spring to your eyes as you obey, letting your jaw go slack in his grip.

The mixture of your salty arousal and the taste of his skin evade your taste buds, heavy fingers pressing down on your tongue and slipping to the back of your throat. You gag slightly, instinctively swallowing around him, spit flooding your mouth.

“Good girl, suck on my fingers just like that baby.” Billy coos, slipping his hand from your chin to your waist, lifting you hips ever so slightly. “Just need to keep that mouth occupied don’t we dolly? Yeah dumb little sluts like you just need a little help.”

And as much as you despised it, as much as you hate Billy in this moment you follow his orders without protest, sucking his fingers free of your cum with a soft moan as you screw your eyes shut.

It tastes… so good. Your cunt is aching, clamping down on nothing with need.

The oral fixation distracts you long enough for Billy to release you and pull his aching dick free of his boxers. You jump and whine when you feel the tip of his cock aligning with your entrance, slipping between your folds gathering your slick and bumping against your neglected clit.

“Shh, shhh it’s okay, you’re doing so good keeping that little mouth quiet for me. See what happens when you follow my rules? Good girls get taken care of. Good girls get to feel amazing, and you want to feel amazing too don’t you baby?”

At any moment you knew you could tell Billy that you really had, had enough, that he had crossed a line and that your friendship is destroyed after what he did… but instead you shift your legs farther apart, inviting him to do what he wants.

Billy hisses through his teeth, cock twitching in his grip as he aligns himself back with your hole, tongue caught between his teeth as he realizes what’s about to happen. Billy gives you a once over, taking in the flush on your face and the desperate grind of your hips as he continues to gather your arousal over the head of his cock. One of your hands finds his thigh, gripping the loss denim as the other digs into his arm as he leans into your ear. “Hold on.”

He sinks into you with one powerful thrust, fingers muffling the inhuman noise that rips your throat apart. Billy sets a relentless pace, fucking up into you as he moans into your neck not letting you adjust to his girth stretching you apart. “Fuck- pussys so tight dolly, taken me soo fucking well.” You can only whine and whimper in response, obscure versions of his name spilling over his fingers buried in your mouth, like the drool that is trailing down to his wrist.

A few more thrusts and he finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, letting you moan freely, gripping your hips for leverage as he pounds into you, stretching you wide and hitting spots you didn’t know existed until now.

“Ah… mmmm Billy… f- don’t stop.” You barely catch yourself, the word nearly slipping between moans and pants as you try and hold onto reality.

Billy huffs a soft laugh, the sound of skin hitting skin nearly burying the sound in the four walls of the trailer. “Tell me how much you like my cock baby.”

“F-feels so good… Ah Billy… l-Like your cock.” Dirty talk never was an instrument used when you had other men in your bedroom, it was always rushed sex, and needy moaning followed by awkward glances as they found their clothes and left. All the things that left you unsatisfied by the end of the night.

But as your pained tears turn to pleasured sobs Billy slows his ministrations, hard deep thrusts that cause his blunt mushroom head to bruise your cervix to the point you are seeing stars behind your eyelids.

“Been thinking about this little pussy for months, fuck- imagining the mess I would make of you, have you…” a rough groan breaks up his words after a particularly harsh roll of his hips, “begging me to fuck you.” If the arm Billy had slipped across your sternum to fondle your breasts hadn’t of been there you’d of fallen forward, Billy’s strength being the only thing keeping you upright as his words flood your brain heightening your arousal.

You want to moan something intelligible, some kind of comeback like you always have ready, but Billy has made true of his word, and you are completely fucked dumb. The tightness in your stomach is ready to snap, your cunt clinching around his cock as it drags along your velvety walls.

“M close…” Reaching behind yourself, you capture a fist full of Billy’s blond hair, arching your back at just the right angle for his cock to slam into your sweet spot. His name rolling off your tongue between each thrust.

‘Just one more thrust.’

‘One more glide of his dick and I’m going to break.’

‘It’s right in reach.’

Billy growls low in your ear, slamming you down on his dick and stilling your movements completely. A shrill cry of disappointment escapes you, struggling to reach the high you so desperately want as you rut back into Billy’s hips. You pull at his hair, nails digging into his forearm as you slip farther and farther away from your climax.

“Please… please Billy please.” Twisting your head you finally look at him, his pupils are blown out and he’s panting as fast and hard as you are, sweat covers his neck and forehead causing the curling hair to stick to his skin.

“Good girls get to cum on my dick. Are you going to be a good girl for me? Gonna stop cussing, and dirtying up that beautiful little mouth?”

“Yes Billy, yes! I promise!” You would say anything to cum at this point, the ache of denial thrumming through your body. Billy knew this too, could read it on your face, on every little tear that slips across the swell of your cheek and down the column of your throat.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth, dolly? ‘M just supposed to take your word for it?”

You nod frantically, tugging at his hair as breathy little whines slip over your lips. Your cunt is clinching around his cock, seeking any friction to ease the ache. “Need you Billy please…please don’t stop.”

Billy laughs softly, shaking his head as he looks you over, your skirt doing a pathetic job of covering your stuffed pussy while your shirt is tugged one way and pulled up over your stomach. “Don’t know, dolly. We gotta make sure you’re gonna follow the rules. What’s gonna help you remember?”

‘As if my sore ass wasn’t going to be enough.’

You shake your head, hair wild about your face as you look up at Billy pleadingly. “I’ll remember, Billy. No more cussing, I promise.”

‘Move, please move.’

You don’t know how much more you can take of just sitting here, the tip of his dick pressed tightly against your cervix.

A wicked smile grows across Billy’s lips and he slips his free hand into your hair, wrenching your head to the side, exposing your neck. “I know just the thing… let’s call it a visual aid, shall we?”

Before you can respond Billy sinks his teeth into your flesh, drawing out a sharp scream as pain blooms across your already sensitive nerves. “Billy!” The grip on his hair becomes impossibly tighter, nails digging into his scalp as the slight metallic tang of blood stains his tongue as he sucks on the delicate skin. You try to wriggle out of his grip, causing him to hunker down, sucking and biting harder at your soft skin.

After what felt like hours but was merely minutes, Billy finally let’s go, satisfied with his handiwork, he darts his tongue across his copper colored lips as he inspects the wound.

You are visibly shaking, head swimming like you might pass out as you attempt to catch your breath, neck burning as you try and process the cascade of feelings rushing through you. “Now you’ll always remember.”

Just as fast as he stopped Billy began fucking into you, a broken noise falling from your lips as all you can do is hold on for dear life. His fingers attack your clit, hauling you up towards your orgasm as quickly as he had denied it and you cry his name, screwing your eyes shut as white heat licks up your back and across your stomach.

“Bi-.” You can’t even finish your sentence, your orgasm seizing ahold of your body sending you into a silent scream, head thrown back, body clenching around his. Billy moans low in his chest, eyebrows knitting together as he presses his face into the back of your shoulder as he continues his aggressive movements, fucking you through the waves of pleasure pulsing through you.

“F-fuck… FUCK!” Billy’s hips stutter, his cock twitching as he reaches his orgasm, painting your walls with rope after rope of hot cum. You mewl at the feeling, over whelmed with sensation as his thrusts become shallow, letting your pussy milk his cock. His hands roam your body, soft praises ringing in your ears as he smooths the hair from your face as your head fall back against his shoulder.

The room is spinning slightly, your head heavy with exhaustion as you both catch your breath. Your grip has gone completely slack, fingers numb where they now hang at your sides. “Took me so well baby, I knew you’d do so good.” He trails a finger along your jaw, murmuring softly as something in your chest swells slightly at his praise.

Licking your lips you suck in a deep breath, “Billy…”

“Yes princess?”

“Don’t ever…” you swallow shakily. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again. If you promise me that I will never cuss again, but if you ever pull another stunt like that I will rip your world apart, Billy Hargrove.”

Your threat hangs in the air thick and heavy, Billy silent for a moment before he nods against your skin, a soft brush of his lips slipping over the back of your neck. “I promise, sweet girl.” He smiles at your venom, wrapping his arms tighter around your body as you relax into his embrace.

What this means for your relationship is completely unknown, it could all end in flames, but burning with Billy Hargrove didn’t sound to bad.

[rascheln]

(cw for grief/mourning, temporary character death) AU where steve leaves hawkins after s3 in search of his soulmate, feeling like something has been cut off from him, but he can’t put into words what it was. it’s like a hole has opened up i his chest ever since he saw billy die- someone he swears he didn’t even like, even if they slept around! but he can’t stay in that hellhole of a town anymore, so he packs up two bags, jumps in his car, bids good-bye to everyone and on his first stop out of town, he goes to a tattoo studio.

he doesn’t know what it is he wants, but he needs something on his skin as a reminder. that he made it out. that others didn’t. it’s not like he’s told everyone “i’m looking for the love of my life” when he drove off, but somehow the thought festers at the back of his mind. finally, he settles on a little black and white tiger head on the side of his rib cage near his heart, holding a red thread between its teeth. it makes him think of hawkins, but in a way that doesn’t hurt.

it makes him think of winning games with a team that still adored him even when he shed his popularity. of a boy who’d shove him around during practice spouting constant commentary on how to improve his play. of wandering gazes during showers. of a letterman jacket with a tiger, stretched over broad shoulders.

the tattoo, though? that shit hurts. he can feel the vibration of the needle on his bones, a sensation so novel it drags him out of whatever reverie he’s been in ever since starcourt. for a short moment of clarity he knows this will not bring billy back and the physical pain in its crescendo of white-hot, dizzying assault on his nerves matches the emotional ache. then he sinks under again, into a  familiar haze of confusion and emptiness.

when he settles in his car, there’s a red string on his side that he’s asked the tattoo artist not to tie off. for a short while, it bleeds. there’s a paper with instructions on how to take care of it tucked into his sun visor. it sits next to a photo his eyes rigorously avoid. the one photo he owns of him and billy. proof, that this secretive, rough, beautiful thing between them happened.

every couple of months, sometimes sooner, he adds onto the thread running down his side. every time he falls out of bed after a one night stand and the first thought in his mind is “i’m still in love with billy hargrove. fuck.” every time he leaves a place, driven by the need to move, move, move.

the thread stays with him, just like the photo. it wanders down to his waist, then his hip, then down his thigh. sometimes he follows it with his finger right up to the point where it still sits unfinished.

and then one day, something happens. something so fundamentally terrible it splits the world open and turns it inside out. it rips and tears at the essence of reality and time and when steve opens his mouth to scream, there’s nothing.

there’s his bed in hawkins, sheets a distant, familiar sensation excavated from his memory. a warm body next to his. a brief moment of overwhelming, desperate affection.

when he wakes up, the world is whole and skewed at the same time. he’s in his shitty apartment and a call away from dustin yelling at him on the phone about El doing something “absolutely insane!!” and he barely hears it because the hole in his chest is gone.

it scares him more than anything in the world. because there’s hope.

[therealmilfdennys]

Wait hey haha it's me so like. Like. Eddie sucking Steve off for the first time and gets his throat fucked and cries about it /pos? Maybe Steve is a little freaked but Eddie just keeps going until he cums, tears and all?

Of course I am in love with these boys we JUSt talked about this (sort of) and I kind of want to write another version where Billy is involved lol.

Anyway! CW: Crying, oral, tiny tiny bit of facefucking lol, Eddie having a gay panic, Steve being a good bro and letting Eddie suck the soul out of his dick, tiny bit of a dumbification if you squint. Eddie having a crush on his bestie. Slight? ST4 spoilers? I mean kind of? 

Minors Do NOT interact I do not want to be sued. 

If you had asked Eddie Munson where he’d be a year from now, a year ago. His answer would be California or New York, living it up where the pot was legal and the music was loud and he was the farthest away from Hawkins he could get. He would NOT have said, on his knees for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington in his shitty trailer. That would be insane. 

However, fighting a multidimensional being, and giant bats with mouths for faces and almost fucking dying, changes your point of view on certain things in life. So he and Steve had started hanging out more, a week of fighting for their lives trauma bonded them. They had similar scars too, which Eddie was enamoured with. They compared them sometimes, the pot smoke lingering in the air from their earlier joint. It lowered their inhibitions just enough to make them brave. Made Eddie brave enough to look at Steve like that without being scared he’d be found out, his fingers tracing the bite marks on the brunettes torso. “Metal.” He’d call them, his lips quirking up in a silly way. The pot loosened Steve up, made him less insecure. He’d gotten a little thicker since highschool, put on the chub he’d only managed to keep off with rigid basketball practice. He had a thousand yard stare, eyes zeroed in on where Eddies fingers rubbed against his skin, soft little giggles pouring out of him at the tingley feeling it made. 

So yeah, they’d been spending a lot of time together, like….a lot of time together. Who could blame them though, they were the only ones who knew the pain of the bats’ bites and they were..better together. Eddie was more docile, less strung up and jittery, and Steve was less snarky and sullen. They brought out the best in eachother and found theyhonestly had a lot in common. 

Which is why Eddie’s fingers are shaking where their gripping his thighs, butt to his heels in front of Steve Harrington on the floor. Steve Harrington who is laid out on the couch like some fucking fancy oil painting in that museum he drove Eddie and Robin to last month. Steve Harrington who is puffing smoke like a fucking train engine, a lazy little smile on his lips. He knows Eddie is nervous, he knows Eddie hasnt done this before, its the conversation that led them here. 

“Never done that before, never given never received.” Eddie had giggled out around a mouthful of smoke. “Really? Never?” Steve was suddenly serious, brows pitched down and lips curled up in a little frown. Eddie shakes his head, not catching that Steve is suddenly solemn till he has the joint taken from his fingers. 

“Want me to teach you?” 

Eddie is refusing to meet Steve’s eyes, picking at the little thread that’s peaking from the worn hem of his sweats. His tongue feels thick, he’s a little sweaty. He didn’t know how Steve could sit there so calm, looking like a fuckin’ God splayed out on Eddie’s shitty little couch, it just wasn’t fair. How pretty Steve looked. How downright unbothered he seemed by this whole fucking situation. A logical part of Eddie’s brain was trying to get through that Steve was definately more than a little nervous. The guy had never been with a dude before, Eddie had a least kissed a couple.  

“C’mon man we don’t have to, I just wanted to help.” Steve says suddenly, leaning forward a bit to see Eddie better. The other’s eyes widened, and he looked up quickly, which was a bad idea because Steve is so close and he smells so fucking good and he looks so kissable right now it makes Eddie’s head hurt. “Nah, nah I want to. Just can’t believe I have Steve Harrington offering up his dick to lil ole me.” He deflects, voice shakey and a fake little smirk playing at his lips. He bats his eyes to try and make it more believable. He knows Steve sees right through him. The older boy rolls his eyes in unending fondness, huffing quietly. “Just do it man, not gonna bother me if you take your time.” He winked, laying back and settling into the cushions more. 

Eddie wallowed thickly, nodding and scooting a bit closer, eyes roving over the skin of Steve’s exposed legs unapologeticaly. He dropped a iss to the skin there, shakey hands coming to drag oh so slow up to Steves hips, making the boys breath hitch a bit. Eddie pressed his nose into Steve’s clothed hip, letting out a shakey sigh at Steve’s smell. “You fuckin smell good everywhere dude, what the fuck.” He almost whined, leaving little open mouth kisses at the hem of his friends boxers. Steve let out a breathless little giggle, runnning a hand through his hair. “Showers do that, Munson.” He teased with absolutely no mirth, voice absurdly warm. If Eddie were thinking straight he’d probably over analyze it, but he was in no state to think about anything other than the soft fuzzy trail of hair leading into Steve’s grey boxers. “Can I…Can I take em off now?” He murmured, sounding way to nervous for Steve’s liking, though he hummed in affirmation anywway, lifting his hips to help Eddie tug the cloth down. When the shorts are off Eddie had to take just a second to stare. He never cared about the rumors of Steve’s cock, he knew people said it was big obviously, he wasn’t deaf. He just didnt care. He wished he’d listened to rumors more. Steve was fucking thick, so heavy it floppedto the sideand rested against his hip bone. Dark and flushed and tanned like the rest of him. Eddie’s tongue rested against his top lip, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Shit, Steve.” He breathed out, breath making Steve shiver a bit. The older boy was a little red in the cheeks, biting at his lip. “Hah…yeah, sorry. Bout that.” He mumbled, watching as Eddie tentatively dragged a finger up the underside and over the tip, making a little whiney noise when pre dribbled out. “Fuck..you’re damned pretty Stevie.” He mumbled, mesmerized with the way his friends cock jumped at the praise. He took hold of it, hand gentle and cool against the skin, making Steve grunt pleasantly. Eddie dragged his thumb over the tip, trying to work himself up for a taste. He spared a glance up at Steve, who was watching Eddie’s hand pump slowly his eyes hooded, teeth digging into his lip. Eddie leaned forward slow, lips falling open to take the tip into his mouth. Salty and warm and fuckin heavy on his tongue, making him keen in the back of his throat. Steves hips twitched slightly, and one look up had Eddie fucking melting in his spot. Steve was trying so hard not to move, wanted Eddie to be comfortable and feel good and enjoy himself. Poor boys eyes were squeezed shut under thick furrowed eyebrows, desperate not to move.  Eddie drags his tongue over the tip and takes down a bit more before pulling up with a slurp sound that should gross him out but instead makes him shudder pleasantly.  He keeps a hand wrapped around the thickness in front of him, looks up at Steve with big eyes, a little grin plastered to his lips. Cheeky. 

“You can like, move you know? S’about you anyways, show me what feels good or whatever.” He mumbles, busying himself with kissing at Steves cock to distract himself from what he’s offering. Steve whines, reaching down to thread scarred fingers through Eddie’s hair, pullit into a shitty halfway ponytail. “Fuck, just, do what you were doin’ before, spits good, helps.” He mumbles out, too high and horny to give a shit about finishing sentances. Eddie nods, dragging his tongue from root to tip before taking Steve intohis mouth again. He could get drunk off of the taste, the smell, the fuckin feel. Steve’s not quite pulling on his hair, but his grip is fuckin tight when Eddie takes him deeper in his mouth. “Fuck tha’s good Eds, just gonna. Just hit me or somethin’, kay?” He mutters, tugging Eddie’s head up by his hair and pushing him down again. Eddie let out a sick little sound from his throat, whiimpering at the twinge from his hair, eyes squeezing shut and jaw falling slack. He could barely think and they’d just fucking started. He was so screwed. 

Steve groaned softly from above him, making him look up and whimper in question. His hands gripping at the meat of Steve’s thighs, his throat making little schick shick shick noises. He’s so hard he hurts but this is what he hasnt let himself want for the past few months. Desperate for Steve to just fuckin use his mouth, started to imagine it and then stopped himself so many times. Steve is whining, Eddie registers this slowly, eyes hazy from where he looks up at his friend. Steve’s cock is in his throat now, and he gags, tears springing to his eyes. He reminds himself to breathe in through his nose, squeezing hiseyes shut with little tears dripping to his chin. 

He can’t believe he’s crying over Steve Harrington’s cock. What fucking time loop did he fall into. He’s making little whimpery, pathetic noises, clawing at Steve’s thighs, fucking up into the air in some desperate attempt for friction. He’s pulled off of Steve by his hair before he can register it. “Wha’s happenin’. Why’d ya stop.” He whined out, voice a little fucked out and rough. Steve his leaning into his face, and Eddie’s watery eyes fight to focus on the worried eyes boring into his. “You’re cryin’ Eds, told you to stop me if I hurt you asshole.” He mumbled, loosening his grip on Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s whining and leaning his head into Steve’s hands, shaking it gently. “Nuh uh, didn’t hurt Stevie. So fuckin good, didn’t want you to stop baby.” He whimpered, leaning to take the tip back into his mouth and suckling gently. Steve groans, deep in his chest, tugging at Eddie’s hair in shock, bucking his hips gently, making Eddie gag loud and moan against the fullness in his mouth. “Sorry, sorry Eddie didn’t mean to.” Steve gasps out, trying to lift the other boy off again, so so worried. Eddie groans against the cock in his throat, taking Steve to the root and gagging through it, whimpering delightfully at the fuzy feeling in his head as the blood rushes there. Steve lets out little whimpery sounds, fucking his hips up into Eddie’s mouth, the most disgusting sounds he’s ever heard making him shiver and want more. “Gunna cum, Eds, fuck. Fuck, cmon. C’mon m’so close.”  He whimpered, wrapping his fist in Eddie’s hair and pumping his hips a bit harder. Eddie moans loud against Steve, and that’s what fucking undoes him. Steve cums with these beuatiful sounds, Eddie gagging and pulling off as rope after rope of cum spill into his mouth and over his chin. He pumps Steve through it, making his own little whines and thrusting into nothing. “So fuckin’ pretty Stevie, felt so good. Thank you, fuck, thank you.” He croaks, a pretty fucked out grin on his cheeks. Eddie’s nothing short of debauched, drool and tears and cum all over his face, his cheek leaning against Steves hairy thigh as he strokes him into oversensitivity, hazy and a little cock drunk. “C-Cmon Eds, gotta stop dude s’sensitive. Cm’up here.” He mumbles, pulling Eddie and up onto the couch. Eddie goes willingly, huffing a moan when his crotch rubs against Steve’s hip. “Good? Feel okay?” Steve hums, doe eyed and more than concerned. “Haven’t done that in a while, sorry for the mess.” He murmurs, only a little embarassed as he wipes his cum from Eddies cheeks and chin with his discarded shirt. Eddie grins lazily, head lolling to lean against the back cushions of the couch. “Was fuckin’ perfect Stevie, felt great, seriously.” He grunts, and this is the most docile Steve has ever seen him. Steve wipes himself off, and notices Eddie’s hard on shockingly late. “Fuck dude I’m sorry I didn’t even think- D’you want help with that?” He frowns, fingers slipping into the waist band of Eddie’s pants and Eddie is so glad he forgot boxers this afternoon. “Uh..Uh yeah.” He whispers, watching Steve’s fingers play in his happy trail. “If you wanna, I’m not fuckin stoppin you.” He mutters, looking at Steve with needy eyes, lip tugged between his teeth. They were in for a quite a talk in the morning, but that was for after Steve had made Eddie cum twice his his hands and then his mouth.

[yikesharringrove]

No Bad Things

Here is the first giveaway fic for my 2K follower celebration!

This is for @ariaaadne. I personally loved this idea and had a lot of fun writing it! Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

-

Steve’s vocabulary was the worst out of the three when he came to live with Hopper.

He knew he was called Three, and he could point out Eleven, and once Billy was in the picture, he could excitedly ask for Seven. He knew Papa and gone, and hurt. He knew bad and pretty. He responded when El called him brother. His eyes got all wide when he saw a toddler in a midday television commercial, and he spent the rest of the evening pointing at the blank screen and asking baby?

It took Hopper and Joyce breaking back into the derelict lab to find files on Hop’s two new charges to figure out why Steve only had a handful of words when Billy and El could stumble through basic sentences right out of captivity.

And Joyce brought a shaking hand to cover her mouth when they read through the file marked Number 003 and found that he had been brought to the program fresh from the delivery room.

Both parents labeled deceased.

Billy, like Kali, had been taken a little bit later. In his file, there was a newspaper clipping from the Indianapolis Star, a picture of a young boy with chubby cheeks and round eyes on the front page. Three-year-old William Hargrove Still Missing.

Underneath the image were words from his mother, a woman named Beth who was offering money for any information on the whereabouts of her baby boy.

Beth Hargrove was labeled deceased in the file marked Number 007.

So there it was. Billy had been given three years of a normal childhood. Where baby babble was encouraged and he was rewarded for every clunky sentence he could make. El had spent the most one-on-one time with Brenner in the lab, his own perfect pride and joy, and she understood more words than she had ever tried to say.

Steve’s powers were volatile. He could short out any electrical charge, including the ones in a human brain, and if his large file was anything to go by, he spent a significant amount of time locked by himself.

He didn’t realize that numbers are for counting, and got confused easily while learning them. He didn’t know the names of common objects and got so frustrated when he couldn’t describe his complex emotions, he settled for blowing out all the lightbulbs in the cabin.

El and Billy gave him his name, deciding he looked almost like Tom Cruise’s character in The Outsiders, and my name is Steve was the first grammatically perfect sentence Steve had ever said.

Hopper had made them all triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas for that one.

But for how far behind the other two he was, he was clearly the oldest.

Only a year was written in his file next to date of birth. 1966. Which put him close to two older than Billy, and five older than El.

Hopper had a nightmare when he tried to explain his age to him.

You’re nineteen.

No, Three.

I meant, nineteen years old. You’re nineteen.

But, I am Three.

Numbers aren’t names, remember. And you were Three. Now, you’re Steve.

Nineteen.

That’s right, you’re Steve and you’re nineteen.

And Three.

Well, not anymore.

Name is nineteen.

No-

He then had to use his and Steve’s fingers to count up to nineteen, only for Steve to leave the conversation more confused than he had been before, and tell the others that he was now called nineteen.

But through all that, it was Billy who became obsessed with age, and everything to do with it.

He would ask everyone he met how many are you? And Hopper thinks maybe it’s his own way of reconciling the number thing. Because everyone has a number. They all have an age. But their number is different from their name and you can have both and it all makes up who you are.

Billy was constantly fascinated by identity.

He liked any kind of counterculture he saw. People that were different from everyone else. He followed Jonathan like a lost duckling, and the first time he saw a real-life metalhead, complete with ass-length hair, denim vest covered in patches, and big leather boots, Billy acted like he had found fuckin’ Jesus Christ himself.

He started growing out his hair, and listening to loud music. Hop had to get headphones for him because the wailing guitars gave him a headache and made Steve nervous.

And last time Steve had gotten nervous while Billy blasted Metallica, he had made the speakers in Billy’s old boombox short out so much, Hopper’s surprised the damn thing didn’t explode.

It did catch fire, though.

Not the finest evening in the cabin.

And once he discovered what in the fuck a birthday was, he couldn’t be stopped.

It was Joyce that first clued him in.

Hop had brought his three kids over to Melvald’s to “help” him run errands.

El liked getting to see Joyce and the rest of the world outside of the cabin, Billy liked getting to flick through the magazines, and Steve liked the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights.

She was telling Hop about Will’s birthday coming up in a few months, and how she had already ordered a whole set of paints from the sale advertised in the Sears catalog when Billy’s ears seemed to perk up.

“Birthday?”

Joyce had grinned at him.

“Every year, we celebrate the day the people we love were born. We have a party for them, and get them gifts.”

And Billy’s eyes had lit up, and Hopper could feel the excitement rolling off him in waves as his temperature skyrocketed.

“Hey, cool it,” Hopper warned as the magazine in Billy’s hand smoked dangerously.

He put it down next to the rack and made a show of doing his calming breaths.

“Everyone has a birthday?”

“Yeah! It’s every year on the day you were born,” Joyce filled in.

“Yours is, uh, June 29th.” Hop was acting like he didn’t have the date seared into his brain since he found the kids’ files eight months ago.

“El?”

“September 6th.”

“Steve?” Billy was looking so gleeful with these little bits of information he was getting.

“Well, that one, I don’t actually know.” It made Hopper feel like shit.

The little printed year on Steve’s file genuinely kept him up at night.

It made him fucking furious that any of his kids were treated like lab rats, but the fact that no one even gave a shit to write down the day the baby they stole was born? It made his skin crawl.

Billy looked confused.

“But, you know he’s nineteen.”

Hop sighed.

“I know that he was born in 1966, which was nineteen years ago. But I don’t know the day. Sorry,” he added when Billy’s face fell.

“Steve doesn’t have a birthday?”

“No, Sweetie. Everyone has a birthday.” And Joyce had that look on her face that she always gets when she’s coming to Hop’s rescue. “Maybe you could pick one for him! Like you did his name.”

The magazine at Billy’s feet burst into flames.

-

Hopper didn’t try to understand Billy and Steve’s relationship.

Steve had been first on the scene.

Shortly after the lab had been shut down for good last year, the Hawkins Police Department had received a phone call from Katherine Alderson about a feral-looking child going through her garbage in the middle of the night.

Hopper had gone home long enough to put El in the car before checking it out.

Steve had forced the batteries in Hopper’s flashlight to explode when they first caught sight of him, and Hopper had no doubt in his mind that he would’ve gone on the attack had El not called him by number-name.

They found Billy a month later, when Hopper was driving El home from the Snow Ball.

Hopper caught sight of a bonfire in the woods near the cabin. His plan was to go out and investigate, tell the person to clear out, that it was private property, when El came darting out from behind him and, once again, called Billy by number-name.

Hop will never forget the look on Billy’s face when he saw El, his eyes filling with tears as he stumbled towards her in the snow, desperately calling Three? Where?

Safe, El had told him, and if it hadn't been getting ready to blizzard that night, Billy probably would’ve burned down the entire forest.

He and Steve had hugged for a long time when Billy was brought to the cabin.

Hop had been mortified a few weeks later to find Billy and Steve kissing on the couch.

He was flustered, and asked if they understood what kissing was, and Billy had said El told, and Steve had said love, so really, it’s not that Hopper doesn’t understand their relationship, it’s just that he doesn’t really know how or when.

And what he doesn’t understand, is how to set boundaries when the two had always shared their room in the cabin, and if he should give them the talk when he knows nothing about how two guys get it on, and if that would even be a good thing, or if it would just give them ideas.

But, anyway, Hopper would definitely say that they’re close, and Billy tends to get completely obsessed with anything having to do with Steve, so to say that Billy took his job of picking out a birthday for Steve seriously,

Would be the biggest fucking understatement in history.

Billy had purchased not one, but twelve calendars of years gone by at the second-hand store, and had spent every day for the past two weeks at the library looking up everything that happened on the specific days he had chosen in old copies of The Hawkins Post.

He told Hopper he wanted Steve's birthday to be a good day.

No bad things happen because Steve is a good thing.

Which meant that Hop had somehow been roped into looking at arrest records and crime scene data to make sure Steve’s hypothetical birthday would happen on a day where nothing majorly criminal happened in Hawkins.

Billy wouldn’t even let Steve celebrate a day where one person had gotten a speeding ticket.

No bad things!

Which actually meant the possible birthdays narrowed down quite quickly.

There were sixteen days in the past twenty years where not one thing of record had happened in Hawkins. No speeding tickets, no parking tickets. No ambulance calls, or kitchen fires.

Not even a goddamn cat stuck in a goddamn tree.

Then it was up to Billy to look at each of the days in his outdated calendars and decide which one felt the most Steve to him.

Any of the days in May, June, July, and August were crossed out. Billy’s only explanation was Steve isn’t summer.

Spring months met the same fate.

And finally, Billy had it down to four possible days.

So he took to repeating the four days over and over under his breath.

October 2nd, February 21st, November 13th, December 10th.

Over and over again.

Until finally, finally, Billy accosted Hopper outside of the cabin as Hopper was coming home from work to let him know that their secret mission had been a success.

“Birthday is December 10th.”

“So, in three days.”

Billy nodded excitedly, holding up three fingers.

“Party. Birthday party for Steve.”

“In three days.”

Hopper sighed as Billy nodded vigorously.

And then Billy was pushing past him and getting into the passenger seat of the truck Hopper had just gotten out of, glaring daggers at Hopper and saying

“Joyce will help.”

“Kid, we can’t just show up at her house and force her-”

“Joyce. Will. Help.”

A scrubby bush by Hopper’s left foot began sparking and smoking dangerously, and really, that’s fucking unfair.

Hopper heaved himself back into the truck and took them to the Byers’ place, repeatedly slapping Billy’s hand away from the switch that activates the sirens and lights every time Billy said fast.

Billy shot like a bullet out of the truck when they reached the house, and Hopper apparently needs to have another conversation about manners with the kid as he opened the front door right up without knocking and rocketed inside.

Joyce was pleased to see them, though, and looked nearly as excited as Billy when he explained that Steve’s birthday was in three days.

“So, we’re doing a surprise party, then?”

“Surprise party for a surprise birthday.” Hopper wasn’t being a crabass, despite any looks that Joyce was giving him.

“Surprise?” Billy asked, looking back at Hopper.

“Something you didn’t know about before it happened.”

Billy grinned and nodded back at Joyce.

“Surprise.”

It took an hour for Billy to decide that the party would happen at the Byers’ place. Hopper would bring his three charges under the guise of dinner over there, when everyone Steve knows, mostly the Byers and the rest of the kids, would jump out and surprise them.

They would have pizza, and Billy insisted on a cake with black spotted decorations since Steve watched 101 Dalmatians nearly once a week.

And then Joyce brought up gifts and Billy nearly had an aneurysm when he couldn’t think of what he should (make Hopper) buy for Steve.

Joyce has learned from Hopper’s example and keeps a fire extinguisher on hand so the table was only a little bit singed when Billy finally calmed down.

Billy and El were so excited the three days leading up to the party that Steve was actually beginning to get anxious.

Joyce had suggested they explain the concept of a birthday to Steve before the party so that he understood what the party was all about, and Billy, like everything with this process, had taken that job very seriously.

He had spent nearly half an hour explaining it to Steve.

Half an hour with Hop close at hand to act as a walking dictionary for the words either weren’t sure about.

I have a birthday?

Everyone has a birthday.

When?

Surprise.

Surprise?

Billy had eagerly told him what Hop had said only a few days before.

Something you don’t know about before.

-

“El! Steve!” Hopper called from the doorway.

Billy was bouncing around outside waiting for the other two to come out.

Everything was set at the Byers’. All the kids were already waiting, and Billy’s gift had been meticulously wrapped with Joyce’s help and waiting to be opened.

The drive was quiet.

Steve preferred listening to the thrum of the engine and the static of the radio.

Billy took off through the Byers’ front door, slamming it closed behind him.

The doorknob was hot when Hop took it, and he gently pushed Steve in before him.

Steve was frozen as everyone called out their unison surprise! and he read the banner stretched across the wall above the couch.

Happy Birthday, Steve!

There was a jarring crack of every lightbulb in the room blowing, scattering glass everywhere. It echoed throughout the house as Steve shorted out the circuits running through the house.

And then he was crashing into Billy with a hug so tight it looked as though he was slowly squeezing all the air right out of him and all he could say was my birthday. My birthday. and Hopper’s almost certain that he was crying into the shoulder of Billy’s t-shirt and he’d be lying if he said the whole thing didn’t make his own eyes feel a bit wet.

Steve spent several moments studying each gift that was given to him after unwrapping them.

The kids had pooled together their loose change to get him a series of instructional tapes about wires, telephones, and car batteries. Joyce had found him a kit to make his own electrical circuits.

Hopper’s face got hot when Steve gave him an overlong hug after opening the stuffed tiger he had gotten for him.

It was the same as the one he had seen pictures of in Steve’s file.

The same one that Brenner had taken away and given to El as some form of punishment.

Billy was actually trembling when he gave Steve his gifts, and Hopper saw, out of the corner of his eye, Joyce’s hand tighten on the fire extinguisher.

The first was a walkman. A brand new one that Billy had made Hop shell out some serious cash for at the RadioShack downtown.

Billy put the headphones over Steve’s ears and pressed play on the tape he had made already loaded into the thing.

And Hop thinks if the lightbulbs weren’t already shot, Steve would’ve blown them again.

Because Billy had spent hours recording and compiling a tape of Steve’s favorite electric sounds. The humming fluorescents in Melvald’s, the whirring fan in the cabin, the buzzing of the power lines behind the high school.

He even left some of the tape blank for Steve to listen to the battery of the walkman, and the gears turning the blank tape.

“One more,” Billy said softly, pressing the small box into Steve’s hand.

This was a gift Hopper had to supervise the making of.

But Billy was calm and serious when he made it.

It was a small wooden pendant, and Billy had carefully burned the design of a simple flower El had found in a book onto the front. The back, he had burned the letter S.

“So that you remember. You’re Steve.”

“Pretty,” Steve whispered at it, and Billy preened like a damn peacock. That was about the highest compliment Steve could give something.

“Happy birthday, Steve.”

[passivenovember]

Harringrove April, Day One:

Chest Hair.

--

Point is, once they pin down whatever's got them crashing together on a regular basis, rogue bumper cars at a carnival that's set to close tomorrow so everything feels sharp and desperate, Steve turns soft. Deflates, almost, like it was working every muscle in his back to stay pumped to Billy's level and he just couldn't keep it up anymore. 

They fight it out one more time. 

Billy gets in one good knock before Steve wipes the blood and the perpetual look of annoyance off his mouth as if it were Mac's Ruby Woo, cupid's bow rubbed raw and pink when he says, "Listen, man, I've got a running tab at Melvalds for Neosporin and Powerpuff girl bandaids the size of my college fund."

Billy cracks his neck, like, "So?"

"What are we even fighting about, man?"

And Billy's starting to think red was made for Steve Harrington, that the boy looks cracked and ancient and carved from stone when he's roughed up a little, just.

He belongs in a museum.

Tacked to Billy's wall, maybe, where Billy can poke and prod at those sensitive spots of color without the watchful eye of the gallery associate.

Steve spits a wad of blood and it's thick. Tacky, landing in the stretch of hair at his collar.

Billy can't stop looking at it.

It's blocked by the split knuckles on his left hand. "Truce?" Steve asks.

And Billy will do anything to stay close enough, even if it means they've gotta split pizza money and weed when one of them's got it, so he spits into his palm. Takes Steve's in a firm, forceful shake and says, "Truce," laughing when Steve gags at the wet spot on his heartline and calls him an asshole.

--

So they've got a jar in Steve's kitchen for movie night. 

And everyone thought it was weird, at first. How enemies could bury the hatchet after months of knocking each other around like that, but that's just boys. 

Hormones, or something.

Just how it is.

Steve uses some of his college fund to buy dope for when they stop searching each other out for a fight but still end up together. At the quarry, on the deserted Hawkins High baseball diamond, and eventually, on a plush leather couch.

"You roll like shit, Harrington," Billy says, and it earns him a sock-foot to the ribs, but he takes it anyway. Rubs his thumb across the arch, like, "I'm serious. Could run an army through the space in this swisher."

"So roll it again," Steve says, sounding sleepy. Maybe he is. Loose and comfortable and sighing, a little when Billy lights the shitty old joint and puts it between Steve's own lips, fingers seeking that crick in Steve's heel that needs rubbing when the weather changes.

"I used to bleed because I wanted your hands on me, like this," Steve admits suddenly.

It's their third joint.

It's the only color Billy can paint it when Harrington says, on the exhale, eyes bright and glassy and laced with a challenge, "Would've done anything to get your hands on me."

Steve doesn't have a shirt on, or maybe he does but it's open. 

Billowing. 

Billy remembers that day. Their last fight. That glob of frothy red spit caught in Steve's chest hair as he reached forth a civil, surrendering hand.

Billy takes Steve's, now, and pulls him closer.

When their lips finally meet, it feels like rest.

[platypanthewriter]

Take On Me

Art by @fae-vorite​ for the Harringrove Big Bang!

When Steve pulled up in the drive, he had a mouthful of blue slushie, and he was watching the tiny old lady he’d been driving behind.  She’d barely been tall enough to see over the dash, and as he watched, grimacing, she barely swerved around a row of mailboxes, and then carreened through a four-way stop.

As he stared after her, there was a weird hissing noise by his elbow.  Steve yelled and threw his arm up in the air, spattering himself with slushie.  

“Bwah!” Max yelled, stumbling back, and smacking blue slushie ice off her arm.  “Steve!  What the hell.”

She hadn’t been in the driveway when he pulled in, Steve was fairly sure, and he stared around.  “Where are the rest of you?” he asked warily, rubbing flung slushie off his chin.  He glanced up, half-expecting Dustin to swing down on him with a vine from a tree.

Max squinted at him, her jaw working, and then glanced around.  “In the bushes,” she said.  “Get us inside, now, Steve.”

He rolled his eyes, stalked over and held the front door open��and then swore and dropped his slushie right on the ground and ran over to help, because it wasn’t Dustin and the Chipmunks hiding in the bushes.  There was a woman, shaking, her hands stained with what looked like blood, and Billy Hargrove, who apparently wasn’t dead, barely staggering between Max and the lady.  He was bandaged, and half-naked.  

Steve elbowed his way in past Max, and got an arm around Billy, hefting his sweaty, shivering ass towards the door.  

Once Steve had Billy, Max ran ahead and kicked the slushie cup aside, ushering the woman into his house.  “Mom, come on,” she groaned, and it occured to Steve that he’d never wondered about Max’s mom.  It seemed obvious, thinking about it, that most people had a mom.  One of his girlfriends freshman year had had two, and didn’t seem to have a dad, which Steve had never quite figured out.

Billy looked dead, mostly, pale until he was nearly grey, like instant oatmeal.  “I thought you were dead,” Steve hissed at him, and he snorted a laugh.  

“Guess not,” he breathed, his head against Steve’s as he stumbled along.

When they got inside, the phone was ringing, but Max ran and stood in front of it.  “Don’t answer,” she told Steve, staring at him with wet red eyes.  He nodded, still half-carrying her undead brother, and trying to figure out whether the blood on Max’s mom could have come from under Billy’s bandages.  

“We should call somebody,” Steve pointed out, as he lowered Billy onto the couch.  Billy’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t try and get himself more comfortable, or anything, he just laid there.  Steve threw a blanket over him, feeling like he was covering up a body.  

Max’s mom looked like she wasn’t up for much, staring at her hands and the floor, and Max took a deep, shaky breath, rubbing her face.  

Steve beckoned her into the kitchen.  “We should call somebody,” he whispered, again.  Max set her jaw, shaking her head, and Steve made a face.  “At least a doctor,” he hissed, and she deflated, staring out at the limp shape of Billy on the couch.  

“H-he should be fine,” she mumbled, digging her fingernails into her forearms until the skin whitened.  “He—he didn’t get shot,” she gritted out, and her mom flinched, shivering, and rubbed at her bloody hands.  

“Wait,” said Steve, staring between them.

“M-my husband,” said Max’s mom, and then covered her mouth, and a shaky sob.

“You have a dad?!” Steve yelped, looking around.  “He got shot?!” he added, grabbing his car keys, because it seemed like somebody should probably find the guy. 

“He’s dead,” Max’s mom whispered, staring at her bloodied hands.  “He died right—right in front—in front of—”

“He wasn’t my dad,” Max said flatly, “—and we don’t need to go anywhere.”

Steve nodded, and then shook his head, bewildered.  He hung the car keys up by the front door, and then braced himself, and sidled over to touch Max’s mom’s shoulder, waving at the kitchen sink.  “Um, d’you want to…?”  

She nodded, and took a couple weaving steps to lean against a chair, which she drug to the sink.  Steve leaned down to whisper to Max.  “...so...somebody’s dad got shot?  That’s—that’s where the blood—” he asked, feeling well out of his depth.  His fingers itched to call a functioning adult—Hopper, or Joyce Byers, even, because it looked like Max’s mom wasn’t up for much more than staring at the bloody water in the sink.  “Should I try and find some...tea,” Steve hazarded, and Max snorted a laugh, rubbing her eyes.  

“Billy’s dad,” she whispered, watching her mom.  “The, um—” she dropped her voice further.  It rasped in her throat.  “—Mom let them in because they told her they were the CIA.”

“The CIA shot Billy’s dad?!” Steve choked out, trying to keep it under his breath.  

“They weren’t actually the CIA,” Max said, rolling her eyes.  “Obviously.”

“O-obviously,” Steve echoed, because it sort of made sense.  It did seem weird that the CIA would come to Hawkins, Indiana to shoot anybody’s dad.

“Mom thought they were just...checking on us, you know,” Max said, sniffling, and Steve tried to imagine assuming that the C-fucking-IA had banged on his door just to roll out the welcome wagon.  “Just—just like the FBI does, all the damn time,” Max mumbled, biting her lip.

“Wait, what,” Steve interrupted with a hiss.  “The what now.”

“We’re, um, we’re not really from California,” she whispered, swallowing, and biting back a sharp laugh.  

“Okay,” Steve nodded, raising his eyebrows, and watching Max’s mom cry softly with her arms in the sink, and her head bowed.  “Okay, yeah, no, hang on,” he told Max, jogging the couple of steps over to her mom.  He poked the woman’s shoulder gingerly.  “You all cleaned up?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, and she turned big watery eyes on him, but she nodded.  

“Come out in the front room and sit down,” Steve told her, feeling like sitting wouldn’t really help much, but crying into the sink had to be worse.  He reached in and turned the water off, and guided her by the elbow into the front room.  “Gonna get everybody something hot to drink,” he told them, hoping he still had...something.  Ancient instant coffee from the last time his dad was home, maybe.  Something old and dusty, probably, but Steve didn’t think Max’s mom would know the difference, not after having her husband shot by somebody pretending to be the fucking CIA.  

After he pointed her at the big recliner, Max started fussing around with the color-coordinated throw blankets Steve’s mom had bought and never used, and Steve stepped over to the couch to squeamishly lift the blanket off Billy’s head.

“I-I’m fine, honey,” Max’s mom told her, behind them, as Steve surveyed Billy’s pale, sweaty face.  His eyes were closed, but the skin around them was as red and raw as Max’s mom’s.  His eyelashes were stuck together with the fresh tears leaving trails down his cheeks.  

Steve dropped the blanket again, grimacing, and stalked back into the kitchen to find the teakettle, fill it, and put it on the stove.  He found some packets of hot chocolate Dustin’s mom had given him at Christmas, and dumped them into two mugs.  After a minute, watching the glow of the burner shine off the bottom of the kettle, he grabbed another mug, shrugging.  

 Max shook her head when he walked out and tried to hand her the hot chocolate.  “I’m not a little kid,” she said, glaring at him, but her mom took it with a soft sigh.  

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely.  “Max, sit down, I—I’m fine.”  She reached out and took the mug Steve had offered Max, and held it out to her, and Max sighed heavily, but took it.

Steve went back for the third mug, and then uncovered Billy’s head again.  “Hey,” he whispered, and Billy licked his chapped lips without opening his eyes.  He grimaced before he blinked and squinted up.  “Here, at least hold it,” Steve told him.  “It’s warm.”

“...you made me tea,” Billy growled, glaring at the mug, and then, warily, at Steve’s face.

“It’s chocolate,” Max put in.  “You like chocolate, asshole.”

“...made me chocolate?” Billy asked muzzily, frowning harder, and Steve sat it on the floor, in order to get his arm around Billy-suddenly-alive-Hargrove, and help him sit up.  

“Are you sure you’re not...dying?” Steve whispered to him, lifting the mug and pressing Billy’s hands around it.  “Like, right here?  I need to, uh...kidnap a doctor, or…?”

Billy snorted into his first sip of hot chocolate, biting his lips together as his chest shook with coughs.  After a few seconds, he took a shaky breath, and opened his eyes again.  “Don’t...kidnap anybody,” he rasped out, smirking.  “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harrington.”

“I know a guy,” Steve told him, letting go of the mug, and reaching out to tug at the bandages visible over the top of the blanket.  Billy went very still, holding his breath, which was creepy.  If he wasn’t sitting up, Steve would have checked his pulse.  “A doctor.  M’not gonna let you die,” Steve told him, eyeing the stretched pink scars under the gauze.  Some of the gauze looked wet, not red, but pale yellow, and Steve grimaced, brushing his fingers over it.

“It’s just the surgeries.  Fuck,” Billy creaked out, his hands shaking on the hot chocolate so it nearly spilled.  “They had to cut me open a few more times.  Stitch me back together.”  

Steve put his hands around Billy’s on the mug, to steady them.  “...I got some duct tape somewhere,” he offered, under his breath, and Billy’s breath huffed against his fingers in a laugh.  His mustache tickled, but Steve held steady, watching him drink the hot chocolate.  His cheeks were pinking up a little.  He stunk, kinda, sweaty, and sour from his bandages.  It was weird to be anywhere near Billy Hargrove and not smell his cologne.  “...I thought you were dead,” Steve said under his breath, and Billy shrugged a shoulder, wincing, and swallowing hard.

“Murphy’s law,” Billy hissed back, grinning, but his eyes welled up again, and he blinked rapidly.  “Whatever you least want to happen…”

 Steve helped him drink the hot chocolate, trying to think of something to say.  ‘Sorry your dad got shot,’ seemed wrong.  ‘At least your mom’s alive,’ didn’t seem right either, and then Steve realized he had no idea whether the woman was Billy’s mom.  Billy and Max’s family seemed complicated, and it was entirely possible both parents were Billy’s, and Max had been snatched from a stroller outside a grocery store.  

“So, um,” Steve started.  “You’re...not from California?  Why would you…”  

“Lie about that?” Max asked, flatly.  “The goddamn FBI told us to.”

“...the ones that…” Steve stared over at her, trying not to stare at whoever’s mom’s hands, where they’d been all over blood.  Max called her mom, he told himself.  Whatever she is, Max thinks of her as her mom.

Maybe they’re aliens, he thought, trying not to laugh, because why was the FBI checking in.  Maybe they’d all raised Max from an alien egg they’d taken turns sitting on.

She seemed okay, for an alien, he decided, as Max said, “We’re in Witness Protection.  Or we were, until the Starcourt Mall footage made the national news.”

“Ohhhhh,” Steve said, nodding.  “That makes more sense than aliens,” and Billy choked on his hot chocolate.  “Did you see a gang murder?” Steve asked politely, that being how it usually worked in Hawaii Five-O.

Billy coughed harder, and Steve patted his back, gently, grimacing as he tried not to break the guy any further.  

“Noooo,” said Max, and when Steve glanced over, she was staring at him.

“What?  Shit happens,” Steve said, shrugging.  “Sometimes monsters steal your brother.”

“They didn’t exactly steal him,” Max said weakly, and Steve blinked.  

“I was talking about Will Byers,” he said, and shrugged.  “No gang shootouts, then?”

“We lived near Portland,” Max said, like that fact made Steve’s question the stupidest question ever asked, and then she sighed.  “It’s, um, it’s actually...stupider.  Than that.  There, um, there was a...lab.  There.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said, nodding, and thinking of Hawkins Laboratory, and Eleven.  

“They wanted children to...experiment on,” she whispered, and trailed off.  Steve turned to see her glowering into her mug.

“Set up this machine to check the local kids,” Billy said, suddenly, near Steve’s ear.  He huffed a laugh as Steve jumped.  “At the arcade.  Looked like a normal arcade machine, but it was keeping track, high scores, you know.”  He took a shaky breath, then cleared his throat.  “Even had a fake name.  Polybius.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?!” Max shouted, suddenly, her voice wet and uneven, and her mom grabbed her close, squeezing her with white-knuckled hands.  “How the hell...we saw guys in suits parked around the place, we thought maybe the owner was like...running some kind of gambling with the machines and they were watching him, or something, how could I have—”

“Went to pick her up and they were shoving her in a van,” Billy’s voice rasped, and Steve jerked unintentionally, imagining it.  “I followed them to the lab and they tried to tell me it was some...class for special kids,” he hissed.  “Tried to tell us all to shut up.”

“They came and talked to N-Neil and I,” Max’s mom said.  “They were...we did what they asked, if they’d leave Max alone.  We couldn’t talk about it, not with anyone.”  

Steve nodded, familiar with the way laboratories worked, and filed away the fact that Max’s not-dad had been named Neil, before somebody’d shot him.  There was a long silence, then, as Billy bit his lips together, frowning into the nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate, and Max’s mom cried softly again.

“I called the fucking police,” Max said hoarsely into the silence.  “I—I called the goddamn police, they were—they were stealing kids, they—”

“Yeah,” Steve said, grimacing.  He’d found out more and more about what the lab had been doing, after he’d promised to keep quiet.  They’d even killed the nice burger man, he thought sadly.  His name had been Benny, Steve learned later, but at the time, he’d just been the nice burger man, the one who listened and advised as Steve told him about being terrible at college application essays, and his love for the smartest girl in school.  

Luckily, in Steve’s case, the sheriff had already been told.  “You had to,” he agreed.

“They shot the cop she told,” Billy said flatly, in Steve’s ear.

“They were kidnapping little kids—” Max yelled at Billy, her voice cracking with emotion and he raised his voice over hers, his voice wavery as he tried to catch his breath.  

“Shot him in the head.  They shot his partner, too—”

“The FBI helped us sneak out,” Max’s mom said softly, but they both shut up.  “We were shuffled around a lot…”

“Why bring you here,” Steve said doubtfully.  “Where our lab is?  I mean, it’s better, now.”

“Maybe our FBI guys weren’t as on our side as we thought,” Billy muttered, swallowing hard, again, and Steve realized he was trying not to cry.

Steve tried not to do anything, push Billy away, or anything weirder, like hug him.  He’d gotten too good at this babysitting thing, he thought with a grimace, if he was inclined to hug Billy Goddamn Hargrove.  The problem was, Billy’s inaudible, bitten-back sobs felt like when Nancy’s little sister was scared of the noises outside, while her parents were at the movies.  Steve was conditioned to pull that kind of thing against his shoulder, even when it was Billy Hargrove, with his broad, heavy, muscular shoulders, and heavier fists.

“Fuck,” Billy hissed under his breath, pulling his hand loose from Steve’s to rub his wrist across his eyes.  

“...d’you want...anything,” Steve whispered, as softly as he could, fairly sure Billy didn’t want him to sing Old MacDonald even if he was really good at all the animal noises.  

“How about my dad, alive,” Billy snarled, his unsteady breaths taking the sting out of it.  

“Thanks for letting us in,” Max said, hoarsely, and Steve turned to frown at her.

“Of course I let you in,” he snorted.  “I wasn’t gonna leave you hiding in my bushes.”

“We—we’ll figure out what to do,” Max said, as her mother squeezed her close again.  “Soon.  Before—before the lab people figure out where we are.”

“We need Hopper,” Steve told them, starting to stand, and then realizing he was holding Billy up, and he didn’t want to drop him on the floor.  He wasn’t sure how together Billy was under the bandages—he didn’t seem very...healed—and the thought of dropping him on the floor, and just accidentally jostling all Billy’s internal organs out through a big hole in his back made Steve shudder.  

“You can’t call him,” Max’s mom said bleakly.  “They were listening to our phones.  They said, as we...ran,” she choked out.

“...bet they aren’t listening to walkie-talkies,” Steve told her, absently spreading his fingers over the cool skin of Billy’s shoulder, to warm him up.

“Where’s yours?” Max asked breathlessly, and Steve gave her directions to his sock drawer.  

Billy was shivering harder, and Steve waited until his little sister and maybe-mom weren’t looking to pull the blanket away from more of his bandages.

There was red smeared on them.  “Billy,” Steve hissed, urgently, and Billy laughed wetly, wiping his nose.

“‘S not mine,” he laughed, a little hysterically.  “S’my dad’s.  He—he died right—”

“Shit,” Steve said, blankly, watching Billy try to wipe it away with shaking hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.  “That can’t…” he trailed off as Max brought the walkie-talkie down, and she and her mom started whispering about what to say.  “You need new bandages,” Steve told Billy, the one thing he was confident he could do.  “I need to clean you up.”

“I’m fine, fuck,” Billy panted, sniffling juicily, and Steve nodded once.  

“I’m taking Billy up to...clean him up,” Steve told the other two, and they nodded, watching him.  

“He’s still got stitches,” Max said, glaring.  “Don’t get him wet.”

‘Your dad’s blood got all over’ didn’t seem like the right thing to say ever, so Steve just nodded, and got Billy fairly upright.  

“How far we going,” he panted, swaying, and Steve made a face, then turned around.  

“Piggyback,” he announced, and Billy swore under his breath.

 “Fuuuck,” Billy whispered in Steve’s ear, as Steve made his way carefully up the stairs, steadying himself with one hand on the railing, and one hand awkwardly supporting Billy’s ass.  “Watch it there, Harrington,” Billy snorted, with a pained grunt.  

“Sorry,” Steve told him.  “Is this like how you can’t squeeze the donuts at the store unless you buy them?” he asked, because Billy was heavy, and his ass cheek was soft in Steve’s hand, and Steve’s tongue was on cruise control.

Billy coughed, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulder and chest as he gave a strangled-sounding laugh.  “...yeah, Harrington, it’s exactly like that,” he gasped out.  “I’m...your fucking donut...now, asshole.”

Steve laughed so hard he almost dropped him, all the adrenaline of them showing up covered in blood draining out of him.  “Shit,” he panted, staggering up onto the landing, and taking a minute to breathe.  “Don’t make me laugh on the stairs—”

“You started this shit, I just finished it,” Billy mumbled against his neck.  His breathing was uneven and shuddery.

Steve took a slow breath to steady himself, and carried Billy just that little bit further through his plaid bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Billy didn’t even comment on the extreme plaid, his teeth chattering, so Steve nearly dropped him on the toilet in his urgency to get a few inches of really hot water in the tub to plonk Billy in.  It’d be just like with Holly, he figured, put few inches of water in there to keep her warm, but not enough so she could slide in and drown.  It wouldn’t be enough to get up near Billy’s bandages, he told himself, then, while the water was running, he realized he didn’t know where all the bandages were, so he reached over and yanked at the drawstring of Billy’s sweatpants.

“WAH,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand with his cold, sweaty, shaking one.  “...what,” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, and then blinking stubbornly open again.  

“Come on,” Steve said, grimacing at how pale he was.  “You got any bandages below the chest?”  Billy just shivered and breathed, staring into the middle distance, and Steve finally bit his lips together and grabbed Billy’s cold face, turning it to face him.  “Billy,” he said.  “Billy?”

“...Harrington,” Billy whispered, focusing on him, and then looking around, his eyes welling up again with tears.

“Come on, stay with me, I’m gonna get you warmed up,” Steve told him, ignoring his own heart pounding.  He was aware of shock as a concept—he’d seen Joyce Byers after—after.  But Billy had bandages, he could be bleeding out, or something, and the thought made Steve’s fingers clumsy as he tried to lift the guy enough to get his sweatpants off, and pull him into the bath.  

“Come on,” Steve whispered, pulling Billy up until he was sort of standing.  Steve had to reach down and lift Billy’s feet one by one into the tub, and he yelped, opening his eyes again at the heat.  “Just gonna clean you up,” he muttered, pretty sure Billy wasn’t hearing him, what with the way he was slumped against Steve’s side.  Steve lowered him into the water, and Billy shook his head, mumbling inaudibly.

Steve held his shoulders for a long moment, watching his face, and then yanked at the bandages.  Billy still had some stitches underneath, but to Steve’s profound relief, it didn’t seem like any of the blood was his—or that the blood had seeped in anywhere.  From what Steve remembered of reading Johnny Tremain in middle school, gangrene was a possibility if stuff got past Billy’s stitches, and so he was very careful to wipe around them.  

Billy relaxed slowly against the back of the tub, his head tilting to rest against the corner as his eyes closed.  His hands occasionally lifted to touch Steve’s, and then fell away as Steve washed him all over, until he was pink and warm, and didn’t smell like sour sweat anymore.  Billy snored softly under his fingers, and Steve bit back a laugh.  

The bath water started to cool, and Billy’s shoulders started to clench again, his legs goosepimpling, so Steve ran the hot water again.  He pulled the plug on the cooler water, then when the tub was empty, replugged it.  As the hot water rose, he ran out to grab an old plastic cup from his desk—he had to dump the pencils out—and pour warm water over Billy’s legs.  

Billy screamed, this awful broken noise, scrambling to get out of the tub, and Steve yelped and turned the water off, helping frantic, naked Billy Hargrove out of the tub and half into his lap.  He was slippery and warm, and Steve tried not to think about it, stretching to try and reach a towel, but Billy was laughing brokenly into his hands, muttering “I’m me, Harrington, I’m fucking sorry, I’m the best you’re gonna get, I’m still me, I’m Billy goddamn Hargrove—”

“Shit, I know,” Steve told him, as Billy’s wet shoulder soaked into his t-shirt.  “You’re Billy, you’re okay, shit.  You were just cold, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Maybe I’m better as the Mindflayer,” Billy laughed, gulping and sniffling.  “Could’ve taken out that lab guy before…” he took a shuddering breath, wiping his nose.  “Not just...let my dad get fucking shot,” he whispered.  “F’I wasn’t such a waste of space I’d have answered the door.”

With a sinking horror, Steve realized he had his arm around a naked guy in his bathroom, a naked guy who’d once beaten him unconscious.  A naked dude who wished he was dead.  “Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference,” he said, after some thought.  “You don’t know he’d have gotten away.  Max’d be crying over you again.”

“Like she would,” Billy snorted, reaching for the toilet paper and loudly blowing his nose.

“She did, though,” Steve told him, and Billy glared over.

“Yeah, right,” he said, and then opened his mouth again, shut it, and wiped his eyes.  “...what the fuck am I doing here,” he grunted.

“Uh, well,” Steve started, “—you were um, playing an evil videogame in Oregon—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy laughed, wheezing with pain.  “Why are you...why’d you—” he mumbled, as Steve set his jaw determinedly and wrested him up from the floor, dragging Heavy-Ass-Hargrove out to his bed, and tipping him into the sheets.  

The bandages were an adventure, with Billy falling asleep--and he finally fell asleep again right on Steve, as Steve tried to get him dried off.  

He didn’t wake up for hours, until Steve was sitting up in bed, on the phone with Hopper.  Billy blinked big blue disoriented eyes up at him, frowning grouchily, and Steve held his finger up to his lips, listening to Hopper explain the situation.

“It’s okay,” Steve hissed to Billy.  “You’re with me, you’re safe.”

Billy stilled, watching him, then snorted a laugh as his eyes drifted shut.  “...’kay, Harrington, he mumbled, sighing contentedly as he curled into the warm pillows.

Steve smiled, and rolled his eyes.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Good Girl, Bad Boy (Pt. 10 of 15)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.3 K

Summary: You're the extreme opposite of Billy Hargrove. The good girl, with perfect grades, the child every mother wants to have. And you don't want to have nothing to do with his kind. Ignoring Billy – and his constant, lingering stare – became an habit. But after you're put together for a special school program, you'll have no choice but to get along with him. And soon enough you'll find out that Billy is so much more than just Hawkins' bad boy.

<-Previous part (09)

Next part (11) ->

A/N: This part was inspired on the song Treacherous by Taylor Swift

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Treacherous

You can't believe you let Billy convince you into this. These parties were never your thing. They usually happen during the week, and on the next day, you can see the effects on those who went. Today is Saturday, but even so.

Maybe it was Billy's intense stare, or how he smiled and caressed your cheek as he asked you to go with him... Or how he said he wouldn't go without you because there would be no point.

Sighing, you look at yourself in the mirror, blushing at the memories. Your hair is styled with some waves, and they flow down your shoulders. The dress you choose is tight, perfectly hugging your body. Not too tight though, as the dresses Stacy and her friends wear. It's decent and delicate, pink and black... And you wonder if Billy will like it.

“(Y/N), Billy is here!” Your mother yells and you sigh, fixing your hair and leaving the bathroom.

Once you put the high heels on, you take your purse and go downstairs. Billy is seated on the couch, but his eyes find you immediately, and he stands up. “Hey.” You mutter, walking over a very weird Billy. He has his mouth half-open, eyes scanning your body. “Have you lost something?” Trying to keep the sassy tone, you cross your arms, heat spreading through your cheeks.

“I just never saw you on a dress before and...” He sighs, eyes meeting yours and a smirk coming to his lips. “You're stunning.”

Biting your lip, you look down, taking in the leather jacket and the red shirt underneath, which has a lot of buttons left open. “You look good too.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.” Nodding, you start walking to the front door.

“(Y/N).” Your mother calls, and when you turn around, she's standing by the kitchen door frame. “Be back by ten, alright?”

Silently, you nod before waving and walking out.

The ride to the party is filled with small talk. Billy keeps stealing glances, a small smile that never leaves his lips.

Once you get there, a house you don't even know who lives in, you raise your eyebrows as you walk in. The music is loud, but the people are louder. The place is crowded, and you wouldn't want to be the one to clean this place after.

“So, what do you think?” Billy asks, mouth close to your ear.

“It's very loud!” You tell him, and someone bumps on you, making your shoulder collapse on his chest.

Billy gives someone a hard stare before looking down at you. “Wanna dance?”

“Yeah.”

“Come.” He takes your hand, guiding you to the living room, which has the furniture all moved, creating an open space. There are a lot of people here already, but they move aside for Billy. A lot of eyes lay on you, but you ignore them. “I don't even know if you can dance, pretty girl.”

“Oh, I do.” Smirking at him, you wrap your arms around his neck, and start moving.

Billy raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed as his hands encircle your waist. You're very, very close, and you can feel all of his body. Your cheeks burn, the proximity making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. The heels do make you closer to his lips, but still, he'd have to bend down to kiss you.

Kissing Billy Hargrove. You never thought you'd want to do such thing.

But here you are now, dancing with him, spinning around and colliding your back against his chest as his arms hold you close, moving to the hectic beat. And it's perfect, amazing. Not because of the party, but because of him. You want to be like this forever, in his arms.

“You? Here?” The voice, very familiar breaks through your stupor, and you come back to Earth. Steve raises an eyebrow, purposely ignoring the man holding you. “I could never convince you to come to these parties. Not even when we were dating.”

Billy gets tense behind you, arms holding you a bit tighter. “Well, that was because I never had a good reason to come. Now I do.” Shrugging your shoulders, you gesture at Billy. “Where's your girl?”

“Bathroom.” He says, looking around. “There she is. Gotta go.” He steps away, but stops suddenly, eyes focusing on Billy for the first time. “You try anything with her I–”

“Steve, go.” Cutting him off, you speak up. “I'll be alright, Billy treats me well.”

“He better do.” With one last angry stare, Steve walks away, and you breathe out, relieved.

“I'll get you something to drink,” Billy says, letting go of you. You turn around, giving him a look. “A soda. Just soda.” Smiling, he raises both hands in defeat. “I know you well, pretty girl.”

“Alright. I'll check the backyard.”

“I'll meet you there,” Billy says and you nod, starting to make your way through the people.

The backyard isn't empty, but it's not crowded as the house is. Blame it on the cold. It's freezing, and you wish you had brought a jacket. The yard is cute though. A single three and some wooden tables scattered around. There's a bench under the tree, so you sit there bracing yourself and rubbing your arms.

“Hi.” Someone says, and you find Tyler coming to join you on the bench. “You look absolutely amazing.”

“Thanks.” His tone sounds weird, and you move away from him a little.

“People didn't use to notice you, but they sure are now. And God, you're so beautiful.” He says, and you give him a confused glance. Why is he saying this? “How did you manage to stay invisible for so long?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you shrug your shoulders. “Because I'm not the type of girl guys like you pay attention to. And now that I'm with Billy–"

“You're with Billy?” He cuts you off, eyes following a small group of people walking by. “Is it official?”

“Mmm... We're... We're hanging out.”

“There's a big difference, see...” Tyler moves closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You immediately shake his hand away, but he keeps it on the backrest of the bench. “Because if you're with Billy, your off-limits. And if you're not... Well, I can have a shot with you.” Tyler run his fingers through your shoulder, all the way to the back of your neck. So you get up, not even trying to seem polite.

“I'm not interested, Tyler.” Bracing yourself from the cold, you look down at him.

“Look, you know Billy won't keep you. Save yourself a broken heart.”

“(Y/N),” Billy calls and you thank the heavens. Turning around, you find Billy coming your way. “Tyler.” He says in a weird, plain tone.

“Billy.”

“Here.” He hands you over the can of soda, eyebrows furrowed. “Everything alright?”

“Sure,” Tyler speaks before you can, a humorless laugh escaping his lips.

“Wasn't talking to you.” He snaps, eyes coming to look at you.

“I'm fine.” With a half-smile, you tell him, craking the can open and taking a sip.

“Mmm.” Billy mumbers, and you can read the question in his eyes. “Here.” He says at the same time he starts taking his jacket off. “You're cold.”

“I'm not, really.” You protest, but he puts the jacket around your shoulders anyway. “I mean it, B. You'll be cold.”

“I'm alright.” He assures you. “And come. Let's get out of here.” Without giving Tyler a second glance, Billy guides you away, and you don't even try to resist.

You thought he was driving you home, but instead, he took you to a snack bar, where he bought you ice cream. And here, leaning against his car in the almost empty parking lot, you're having more fun than you were back at the party. The night is a bit cold, but the sensation Billy brings out makes you warm.

“Did Tyler say anything?” He asks, putting his empty plastic ice cream cup on the hood of his car.

“No, just... He said I'm pretty, that you'll break my heart so I should give him a chance.” Shrugging your shoulders, you look down, putting your cup next to his before pushing yourself up, sitting on the hood of his Camaro. “But don't mind him. Nobody else knows what happens between us.”

“I won't break your heart. I'm scared you will break mine.” Billy says, a nervous giggle leaving his lips. “(Y/N), I...” He comes closer, his hand, on the hood, touching your leg. Then you fold a leg under yourself, your body leaning closer to him. It happens involuntary, as a need you have you didn't even know was there. “I use to act and think and feel like I was unbreakable. But you... You made me weak.” It comes out as a plead, and Billy ends the little distance between you two. His face is too close, and his blue eyes are everything you see as his hand comes to caress your cheek. “I'm completely at your mercy. I'll do anything you say”

You've never been this close to Billy. And yet, you want more. The whole world is out of focus, and even the gravity is too much. Your heart needs him, it wants him. “Put your lips close to mine...” Your voice is barely a whisper, as your mind tries to win the fight over your heart. You'd be smart to walk away, but Billy is quicksand. He pulls you in. His kindness, gentleness... His touch, his voice, his eyes... Every single thing draws you closer. “As long as they don't touch...”

“I'm in love with you,” Billy says, eyes never leaving yours. “I've been since I saw you for the first time but it only got stronger. When we're close, I want to kiss you, and touch you and look at you... And when I see you walking away all I can hear is the sound of my own voice asking you to stay.”

A smile takes over your lips. He's confessing it, he's saying it with all the words. Billy's heart is open... And he loves you. “Everyone warns me about you. They tell me not to fall for the bad boy and sometimes it scares me but... Your name has echoed through my mind and I just think you should know.” Holding on the collar of his shirt, just to make sure he'll stay close, you look at his lips. “But nothing safe is worth the drive so...”

“(Y/N)...” He says, begs, pleads.

“This path is reckless... Treacherous... But I like it.”

And it's settled. You want him. And when Billy loses control, when he kisses you, you surrender. His lips taste like ice cream at first, but soon after all you can taste is him. And it's amazing, indescribable, inebriating. You've never kissed someone like that, you never wanted to kiss someone like that, and now you know why.

You've been waiting to kiss Billy all along.

And when you have to pull away, he holds you close, forehead touching as you both catch your breathes. The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable. It's the silence of two people in love enjoying each other's company.

“So...” Billy says after a while, his thumb caressing your lower lip. “I believe we're dating now.”

The different tone makes you laugh, playfully pushing him away and jumping off the hood. “What makes you think that?”

“A good girl like you wouldn't kiss someone she's not dating.”

“I'll make an exception for you...” With a smirk, you open the passenger door. “We can go back to the party if you want.”

“No way. I'm taking you home.” Billy gestures for you to get inside, closing the door for you.

“Are you for real?” You ask as he starts the car.

“Yup.”

“You know my mother isn't home, right? She wouldn't even know.” Putting the seat belt on, you look at Billy. He has a smile on. The kind of smile you've never seen before.

“No, I want to make things right this time.” He glances at you, and your eyes fall on his lips, making you want to kiss him again.

Blushing, you nod, looking at the road ahead. “Alright.”

On the ride home, you listen to some music. And as he speeds through the streets, you sing out loud. Some people look with an angry face, eyebrows furrowed, but it only makes you sing louder. You're happy, like you never felt before.

The song is only turned off when he stops by your house, and you step out of the car. Billy walks you to your front door, and you stop there, turning to face him.

“I had fun tonight.” You tell him, a hand on the door handle, but with no intention of going inside.

“So did I.” He mutters in a low voice, stepping closer. Despite the high heels, he's still taller, so you raise your head to look at him. The darkness hides you both from curious eyes, and it makes you brave enough to move closer, holding on to his shirt.

“You know that if I cross the door with this jacket I won't give it back anymore, right?” You whisper, a smile on your lips.

“Take it, it's yours.” He whispers back, a hand caressing your cheek. “The jacket... My heart...” And he kisses you again, slowly, allowing you to feel the warmth of his lips and mouth against the cold of the night.

But he pulls away too soon, and you sigh. “What?”

“It's past ten, pretty girl. Get inside.” He places a kiss on your forehead, reaching behind you and pushing the door open. “See you tomorrow at school.”

“Good night, B.” Smiling, you turn around and step inside, but the door remains open until his car disappears down the street.

×

@multific @tina1938 @graciehams @moatsnow @all-the-stars-on-your-skin @captain039 @rebelemilu @theodore-likes-frogs @prettyinpunk85 @taisab02 @pascal-rascal424 @aleksanderblack @gruffle1

[writing-wh0re]

Hi!!! Can you do 5 and 29 with Sweet Pea or Billy

All writings will be #writing-wh0re-requests. 

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 940 - Longer than I expected. 

Warnings: Smut18+, Alcohol, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Intercourse, Very Slight Cockwarming, Daddy Kink, Choking, Explicit Language, Slight Praise Kink, Jealousy(?). 

Prompt’s Requested:

5 - one more time 

29 - without me? 

A/n: I hope you enjoy!

I walk through the halls of Hawkins high school as I spot him, his back against my locker as Heather touches his shoulder laughing at something he said. As I get closer I hear more of their conversation, my presence still unknown as my blood boils at Heather’s words. 

“One more time? With me?” Her voice drips with seduction as I scoff rolling my eyes. 

“Move Billy.” 

“Afternoon baby girl.” 

“Oh, hi Y/n, I forget that you’re dating Billy.” 

I fake a smile as I turn to my locker ignoring the girl. 

“I’ll see you tonight Billy, don’t be late okay.” Heather warns as he smirks at her nodding as he chews his gum. 

“Don’t be late.” I mimic as I put my books into the locker, shutting it as I lean against the cool metal, Billy standing in front of me, his hands on my hips as he smirks. 

“You aren’t jealous, are you baby?” My eyes roll in annoyance as Billy leans closer his grip on my hips tightening slightly. “Because I’d be happy to have you remind me who owns my cock.” 

Blush hits my cheeks as I pull Billy closer to me by his jean jacket, our lips smashing together as his hands run up my back. 

“Billy!” I hear Tommy call his name as Billy groans against my lips, his body heat leaving mine as Tommy cups his shoulder. 

“Want to head straight to mine?” 

Billy looks at me as Tommy chuckles. 

“Y/n is a big girl, I’m sure she can ask one of her friends for a ride.” 

I narrow my eyes at Tommy as Carol appears beside him, her hand resting on her shoulder. 

“Carol can take you home.” 

“Actually I was heading straight to yours, so she can’t.” 

I roll my eyes as I look at Billy, waiting for him to say something as he just keeps his eyes anywhere but mine. Seriously?

“Enjoy your party.” I scoff as I push through the pair. “Oh and say hi to Heather for me.” 

I turn my back and continue walking out of the school as I see the last bus leave. 

“Fucking perfect.” I groan as I see Steve walking to his car. Bingo. 

“Harrington!” 

“Steve!” 

Steve turns to look at me quizzingly as I almost run over to him. 

“Could I ask a huge favour?” 

“Uh, depends really, will your boyfriend beat me up?” 

“I am sorry he did that, but could I maybe have a ride home?” 

“A ride home? Why can’t Billy take you?”

“You ask a lot of questions, but he has a party, please I can give you gas money.” I attempt to persuade him as he sighs nodding. 

“Only because you’re my neighbour.” Steve reasons as I smile, walking over to his passenger side. 

“I really appreciate this.” 

“Just make sure Billy knows I didn’t initiate this.” 

I nod as Steve’s engine roars to life, he reverses out of the parking space fast as I see Billy walk out of the school. I make eye contact with him as I blow him a kiss, his body language showing how pissed off he is as Tommy laughs beside him. 

“So why don’t you want to go to his party?” I turn to look at Steve as I sigh. 

“I would go, if he asked me to go, but i'm not mad about the party.” 

“What are you mad about?” 

“You really do ask a lot of questions.” I chuckle as Steve shrugs. 

“Typically we go back to mine, fool around a bit and then he goes to the party. However this week Tommy thought it would be a fantastic idea to go straight to his and suggest I find my own way home.” 

“Oh, so you listened to Tommy?” 

“No, Billy just kind of ignored it and I got fed up with it.” 

“Ah, girls man.” 

I shove Steve in the arm as he chuckles, I rest my head against my seat as the wind flicks through my hair. We pull into Steve’s driveway as he cuts the engine. 

“Thanks again Steve.” I smile as he nods. 

“Why don’t you go to the party? Prove them all wrong and just have a good night?” 

I tilt my head slightly thinking as Steve chuckles. 

“The parties aren’t bad, I used to go and I had fun.”

“I just might, thanks Harrington.” 

Steve nods as I get out of his car, walking across his yard to my house. I run through my house to my bedroom as I start my search for an outfit, one that would capture Billy’s attention in an instant. I throw on a few outfits before deciding on my red bralette, leather skirt and black boots. 

I quickly run the straightener over my hair and touch up my makeup as I look over myself in the mirror. 

“Too much.” I sigh as I hear a knock at my front door, I grab my leather jacket as I attempt to shield my body. 

I open the door to Steve’s back as he quickly spins around, his eyes going wide as his mouth falls open in slight shock. 

“Yeah it’s too much.” 

“No no, you look great, it definitely screams Billy.” 

I smile at Steve’s compliment as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Sorry for interrupting you but I figured you’d probably need someone to drive you and I know Nancy is going so..” Steve trails off as I nod. 

“So you’ll take me?” 

“Uh, yeah yeah, unless you want to go without me?” 

“Lets go.” 

I grab my keys as I close and lock up the house, following behind Steve as I yet again get in his passenger seat, deep down I feel butterflies erupt due to the nerves of my outfit and Billy. 

“Tommy’s house?” 

I hum in agreement as Steve starts the unfamiliar drive to Tommy’s. 

The music can be heard halfway down the street as Steve parks his car a few houses down both of us getting out. 

I let out a deep breath as we walk into the party together, people staring at us as I keep my eyes down attempting to ignore the stares as I feel Steve’s hand grab my bicep. 

“I’m going to find Nancy, if pretty boy is a dick I can take you home.” 

I nod as Steve and I part ways, the music rocks through my bones as I see a table littered with alcohol and red cups. I look between the bottles before deciding on Vodka, pouring the clear liquid into the cup as I top it up with lemonade. I take a deep breath before taking a sip, the bubbles dancing across my tongue. 

“Y/n?” I roll my eyes as I turn to face the girl. 

“Carol, hey.” I hold my cup against my shoulder as Carol looks me up and down clicking her tongue slightly. 

“You’re going to embarrass Billy, turning up with Steve dressed like that.” 

“Speaking of Billy, where is he?” 

Carol sighs as she turns and points out the window, I see Billy playing beer pong with Tommy. 

“He has a cheerleader.” 

I flick my eyes to his side, Heather clapping her hands and holding onto his shoulder as he lands the ball in a cup.

“Fucking fantastic.” I quickly finish my drink as the bubbles and alcohol burn my throat. 

“Nancy, please just listen.” I hear Steve say as Nancy shuts a door in his face, Steve rests his forehead against the wood as he sighs. 

“Just give her time.” I almost yell over the music as Steve nods. I walk out of the room into the cool air, hearing Heather cheer Billy again as I stand next to Tommy. 

“My go next?” 

“Uh, um, yeah.” Tommy’s eyes linger on me as I smirk. I take the ping pong ball from his hand, turning my attention to Billy as he smirks, licking his lips as his eyes drink in my outfit. 

“C’mon baby girl.” 

The plastic ball slips from my fingertips as it bounces on the table, landing in a cup as Tommy cheers for me, shaking my shoulders. Billy shakes his head as he picks up the cup quickly finishing the golden liquid as a few drops land on his open chest. My eyes stay focused on the area as I bite my lip softly, hearing Billy chuckle as I shake my head knowing he caught my eye. 

“If I land this, Y/n drinks.” 

I look at Tommy as he chuckles. “Y/n doesn’t drink.” 

“You really don’t know me Thomas.” 

Heather giggles looking back at Billy as his eyes look past her, staying locked to me. The ball drops from her hand bouncing a few times as it skims the first cup and lands in the second. 

“Fuck.” I groan quietly as I take the ball out, shaking off the liquid as the cup touches my lips, the beer flows over my tongue as I swallow hard, holding the empty cup in the air as Tommy claps for me. 

“Where has this Y/n been the past year?!” Tommy questions as I roll my eyes. 

“Hey Y/n.” 

I spin around looking at Steve as he holds his keys between his fingers. 

“Yeah?” I walk over to him so he doesn’t have to shout at me as he sighs, visibly upset. 

“I’m going to head out, do you need a ride?” 

“You’ve done enough Harrington.” 

I feel goosebumps hit my skin at Billy’s voice as Steve rolls his eyes. 

“At least I made sure she got home okay.” 

Billy moves past me as he gets up in Steve’s face. 

“For fuck sake, Steve is leaving, let him leave.” Steve looks at me as I warn him to not start anything as he scoffs and walks away from Billy. 

“Finish the game without us.” Billy says towards Tommy as he grabs my hand, pulling me through the party and into the same room Nancy was once in. I look around at the tiled walls and sink, confirming in my mind it's a bathroom. 

“You asked him to take you home.” 

“Yeah, because you didn’t fucking offer.” 

“I didn’t know you wanted to come tonight.” 

“You didn’t ask.” 

I cross my arms across my chest as my cleavage becomes more prominent, Billy’s eyes falling to my chest as he smirks, licking his lips. 

“Did you dress like this for me?” He brushes my hair behind my ear as I smirk. 

“Steve actually helped me pick this, said it looked the best.” 

Billy’s face drops at my tease as he backs me against the counter, his hands boxing me in as he chuckles low. 

“You aren’t jealous, are you baby?” I repeat his words to him as his hand moves swiftly from the counter to grip my throat, his lips smashing against mine in a heated make out, our tongues slipping against one another as I taste tobacco and beer on him. 

His hand moves from my throat as he slides them down my thigh, picking me up and placing me on the counter as I run my fingers through his hair, his hands on my back dancing across my exposed skin as I start to undo his button up. 

Our kiss breaks as he rids himself of his shirt, I go to wiggle out of mine as he stops my hands. 

“Leave it on.” 

I smirk as I pull him closer to me by his belt loops, fumbling with the fabric as his hard cock springs free. A soft moan falls from my lips at the sight of him as he guides my hand to pump him up and down. Our lips locking together as I keep my rhythm on his cock. 

His hands slide my leather skirt up my legs as he pulls my panties to the side, his fingers running up and down my glistening slit as I moan against his lips as he rubs my clit. 

“So wet for daddy, such a good little girl.” 

I meekly nod against his lips as he pulls away from me.He guides himself to my pussy, as I open my legs a little wider to wrap them around him. 

“Oh daddy.” My head falls back slightly as the familiar pleasure rushes through my body. 

Billy’s hips pick up their pace as he fucks into me fast, his hand grips my throat as I roll my eyes back, moans falling from my mouth as he grunts. 

“Who owns this pussy?”

“You daddy.” 

“That’s fucking right baby, you’re all mine.” 

I whimper as his grip tightens on my throat, his other hand slipping between my folds to play with my clit. My pussy tightens around his length as he smirks at me. 

“You take me so well.” 

The praise rushes to my core as the sounds of my wetness fill the air, his pace never faulting as I bite my lip, my eyes starting to see spots. 

“I’m going to cum.” 

Billy circles my clit faster as I wrap my legs around him tighter, attempting to hold him closer to me as I cum around his cock. 

“Jesus.” I cry out as the sensitivity shocks through my body. Billy’s cock twitches inside me as a moan falls from his lips, he lifts my skirt up a little more to watch himself slide in and out of me as his warm release covers my slick walls. He stays buried inside me as he cups the back of my neck, our lips locking together as our tongues taste each other again. 

A whimper falls from my lips as he slides out of me. Billy cleans both of us up as my legs shake slightly. 

“I’ll ask you to come to parties more often.” 

I roll my eyes, shaking my head as Billy smirks, helping me off the counter as I look at my appearance in the mirror. 

“You look fucking sexy.” His hand slaps my leather gladded ass as he opens the door, the reality of the loud party hitting me again as we walk back to the beer pong table together.

| | |

Everything Taglist: 

@mathletemadison 

[mourntheantagonist]

#HarringroveApril Day 7: Daisychain

***

“Mr. Harrington? Who’s your favorite student?”

The question came about at least once every year without fail, and he’d always answer in the same, textbook way.

“I don’t have favorites. I love all my kids equally.”

And, deservedly so, the whole class would grunt and moan because they knew just as well as he did that it was a load of bullshit. Steve loved every one of his kids, that part wasn’t a lie, but… he also definitely had his favorites.

For the graduating class of ‘90 when he was only a teaching assistant his name was Daniel. He was the youngest in his class because he started early, and he was incredibly bright. He could count higher, he could read quicker, and his mind just worked in ways that no adult could possibly understand. But it wasn’t the textbook intelligence that made Steve fall for this kid. It was his emotional intelligence. He was funny and he was kind and five year olds were cruel, but he never let that get to him. He had an outlook on life that Steve was jealous of, so when the other kids would turn him down for a game of checkers, Steve would happily join him, because Steve saw it as his job to keep that kid kind.

For the class of ‘91 it was Christopher. He was nothing like Daniel. He was held back and was repeating kindergarten, and that was evident in the way he walked through life. He was quiet and would voluntarily remove himself from the rest of the class. He’d sit by himself and read a book and get frustrated when he didn’t understand one of the words, he would swing by himself and he always tried to sneak off with the first graders when it was time to line up. And Steve perfectly resonated with that feeling of watching all of your friends move on without you. He was left in the dust too. When all his classmates moved on to college or hightailed it out of Hawkins, Steve was left there by himself, working at Family Video with his only friend in the grade below him, and it took her leaving him as well for Steve to finally get his shit together, haul his ass west of the Mississippi, and enroll in a community college and work towards his teaching degree.

And he did it, against all odds and obstacles in his way, he did it. It took extra work and the support of his best friend who he followed, and he did it. He saw himself in Christopher, and he wasn’t going to make that kid wait as long as he did to realize that setbacks don’t define his future.

Steve usually took a liking to the quiet kids, and that only changed in ‘93 with the girl named Amy and the familiar last name. She was loud, vibrant, and everyone loved her. Her smile was contagious and she could be the sweetest little girl at times, but she also wore her heart on her sleeve. She cried quite a bit, just the littlest thing could set her off. A boy accidentally knocking over her blocks, not knowing how to spell a certain word, accidentally coloring outside the lines. She didn’t throw tantrums like he saw in the other kids. She would just bow her head and cry and it would break Steve’s heart every time.

But other than those few moments, she was bright and charismatic and with the last name, the blonde curly hair, and the big personality, Steve really should have put it all together much sooner than he did.

He didn’t put it all together until he saw Billy Hargrove in the soup aisle at the local grocery store wearing a chain of little daisies on his head like a crown, and he knew exactly where it was from.

It was from the little girl named Amy Hargrove who frolicked in the field instead of playing on the playground, collecting flowers that she meticulously made into bracelets and crowns and anything else she put her mind to. She gave them to friends, she even gave one to Steve, and of course she would give one to her dad too.

He looked so different, and yet exactly the same. He still had the damn mullet, just dragging the eighties with him as far as he could, he was a little more cleaned up but still had a similar style to what it was in highschool. Still with the same denim jacket, denim jeans, Canadian tuxedo type deal. In a side by side picture situation you wouldn’t really be able to tell the difference. It wasn’t his dress or his hair or anything physical about him that made him look so different, it was the way that he carried himself. It was the relaxation and the eyes that didn’t droop and the smile lines that didn’t used to be there that made him almost entirely unrecognizable from the Billy Hargrove who pushed freshman against lockers and drove his car too loud and too fast and had cigarettes for three meals a day. Not the kid who ran off to California as soon as the hospital released him with only his Camaro and a small suitcase and a large sum of money the government used to keep his mouth shut, leaving just a note for Max on the fridge that didn’t get any more specific than that about where he was going, not even leaving a phone number for her to contact him with. He also didn’t look like the kid they all pictured in their heads after basically the whole town found out about exactly what Neil Hargrove did to his son behind closed doors.

Steve wanted to go up to him in the store, but he stopped himself. Because Billy left. Without a trace or a word, and who was Steve to think that Billy having to be reminded of something he voluntarily abandoned without a second thought would have any sort of positive outcome?

So he turned down the aisle and kept his distance from the man in the flower crown because he was scared. He wasn’t scared that Billy would see him and turn back to his old ways and hurt him again, he was scared that he’d turn back to his old ways and hurt himself again.

Because he’d been hurt enough already.

Steve successfully avoided Billy until parent teacher conferences had rolled around, and instead of seeing Amy’s mom on the list of names he’d be seeing that day, it was Billy’s.

Steve would be lying if he didn’t think about calling in sick and sending his TA in his place. But he still had to be her teacher for another six months, he just had to get the interaction over with.

Many of the parents that came before Billy had to have known he was on edge about something considering he excessively tapped the table with the eraser of his pencil and stuttered his way through conversations. His organized folders and notes of talking points had been entirely thrown out the window and he was an absolute nervous wreck. And he could only anticipate it being ten times worse when the cause of said anxiety walked through his door with the long hair and the leather jacket. It was only with the help of the little girl in the sunflower dress and daisies in her hair skipping from the entrance to the chair in front of him that calmed his nerves just a bit.

But Billy had just stayed at the door, no movement, and any hope that Steve had that perhaps his new haircut and the glasses on his face would be enough to keep Billy from noticing the obvious vanished when Billy snapped his fingers like the lightbulb in his head finally flickered on.

“I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.”

Steve just held out his hand to shake like he did with any other parent, unsure how to gage the situation because Billy’s words could go either way and his facial expressions didn’t give him anything to go off of. It would be weird to introduce himself, he didn’t know what to say.

“Hi, I’m Amy’s teacher. Should we start?”

Billy looked a little confused, but he sat down in the little kindergartener chairs anyway. This meeting was almost more organized than the ones prior, likely because he was trying to go as quickly as possible and get it over with. Steve showed Billy some of her artwork and commented on how her reading comprehension was great but she could work on her spelling a little more. He didn’t want to bring it up, but he brought up the crying and it hurt to see how him bringing it up set her off again. The same bowing of the head and quiet sniffles into her sleeve.

But Steve thinks he just fell in love a little watching Billy comfort her. With one hand rubbing circles into her back and the other holding her small hand. Steve feels like shit watching her cry because of him and is also semi-fearful for his life because he already knows he can’t take Billy in a fight.

“Baby, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with crying. It’s okay.”

“You’re dad’s right Amy. I think it’s very healthy. Crying is good for you.”

She looks up at Steve with those big blue eyes and tear stained cheeks when he says that.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah! I’d say it even makes you more mature. Even some adults I know don’t let themselves cry and it’s not good.”

“My daddy cries a lot too.”

Steve looks at Billy who’s eyes widen when she says it, then tries to laugh it off like she didn’t just say that.

“Hey Amy, you wanna go and play while your daddy and I talk for a minute?”

She just nods her head and wipes away her remaining tears and quickly hauls the bucket of Lincoln Logs off the shelf.

“So. It’s been a while. Hasn’t it?” Steve starts.

“Yeah it has. So, you’re a teacher now.”

“And you’re a father. That’s crazy.” Steve was fiddling with his hands, trying to make the conversation less awkward. “She’s wonderful by the way.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t get it from me.”

Steve just shakes his head. “No. I don’t think that’s true. She has your charisma, and it appears you found a better way of channeling your emotions since last we saw each other. She’s a lot like you.”

“Thanks.” Billy blushed. He actually blushed. “I don’t know if this is allowed considering you’re her teacher, but would you want to catch up sometime? Maybe dinner or something?”

There it was. That was the olive branch. And Steve would be an absolute fool not to take it.

“I’d love to.”

Before they could come up with a time or a place, Amy was running over to the table with loudly stomping feet.

“I almost forgot! Daddy! show Mr. Harrington what I brought him!”

Billy reached into his pocket upon her demand and pulled out a little bracelet made out of little daisies and honeysuckle and handed it over to Steve.

“Thank you Amy! It’s lovely.”

“Daddy show him yours!”

Steve looked to Billy’s wrist where he slowly lifted his sleeve to reveal an almost exact replica to the bracelet in his hand.

“Looks like we’re matching.”

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 16

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3600+

Warnings: Blood, angst, kidnapping, hospitals

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Thor whistled, clutching onto your Tupperware as he punched in the gate code to your condo, hearing a dog barking in the distance. “Dogs, such noisy creatures. This is why Darryl and I agreed to no dogs, but I will admit they can be adorable at times,” he mumbled to himself, pausing on the last digit, noticing the gate partially opened. “Huh? That can’t be right.” 

He pushed open the gate and stepped in, turning to close it until he heard it lock in place. He reassured himself with a nod and continued up the path to your house, hearing the barking get louder. Thor rubbed his lips together as his eyes traveled to the small porch, spotting a dark figure lying on the ground.

“What in the name is…” Thor's eyes widened, getting closer and recognizing the figure to be Steve. Thor dropped your Tupperware to the ground, sprinting to him, and kneeled down next to him. “STEVE, STEVE. HEY, HEY, WAKE UP?” 

The motion sensor lights flickered on, and Thor’s mouth dropped open, taking in Steve’s appearance. Steve was lying on his side in a small pool of blood. A gash on the side of his head glistened in the light with blood coating one side of his neck. Thor gulped, zipping off his sweatshirt, and pulling his phone from his pants pocket, dialing 911. 

“STEVE, STEVE...YOU THERE BUDDY? STAY WITH ME…” Thor shouted, placing his phone on speaker and setting it on the ground. He rotated Steve onto his back, placing two fingers on his neck to check for a pulse while applying slight pressure to his head wound using his sweatshirt.  

“911, what’s your emergency?” A male voice asked on the other side of the line.

“I need medical and police response to 761 High Ridge Drive Unit 1. We have an unconscious adult male suffering from some sort of head trauma.” Thor’s eyes traveled down Steve’s form, seeing a knife sticking out of his torso. “Scratch that, a head trauma and a stab wound to his torso.”

“May I ask who I am speaking with?”

“Thor Odinson. I’m a firefighter with the 107.”

“Wait, Thor…this is Bruce; is everything alright?”

“The victim is Steve Rogers. He is bleeding from both his head and his abdomen.”

“Units are on their way. Do you know what happened or how long he has been down?”

“I don’t know. I just came to drop my sister’s Tupperware off, and from the amount of blood, I would assume it hasn’t been long.”

“How’s his pulse?”

“It’s weak, and his breathing is shallow. Come on, Steve, wake up. Help is on the way.” Thor tapped him on the cheek, hearing a small groan leave his lips. “There you are. Good, good.” Thor let out a sharp, relieved breath, taking in his surroundings. His mouth went dry as he glanced over his shoulder at your front door, hearing a dog whining inside. “Steve, Steve, Where is YN? Is she still here?”

“YN,” he wheezed with his eyes closed. “Jig.”

Thor narrowed his eyes at him, not understanding what he was saying. “Jig? Steve, what are you saying? STEVE.” Thor tapped in on the cheek again but got nothing in response. He sighed, rechecking his pulse and nodding to himself when it was still there. “Hang on, Steve.”

“Responders are nearby,” Bruce stated through the phone. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Thor.”

Thor’s head snapped to the street upon hearing sirens, and the gate clicked open, having given Bruce the code earlier. Paramedics came rushing in, taking over his current position and examining him even farther. Thor stood off to the side, hearing nothing, but the sound of his own breathing, watching the medics work quickly. His mind was in a haze, and before he returned to his senses, Steve was on the stretcher going down the walkway. One of the paramedics was standing in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked again, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Ahhh...yeah,” he nodded at her question. “Of course.”

“The police will be here shortly.” The paramedic patted him on the shoulder, handing him his phone before following her team.

“You still there, Thor?” Bruce asked as Thor watched the flashing lights disappear in the distance. 

“Yeahhhh,” he dragged out, bringing the phone to his ear. “YN.” 

He opened the door to your condo, and his stomach dropped at the carnage before him. The pillows and blankets that laid on the couch were scattered all around the living room. The small glass entry table Nat gave you was shattered to pieces along with what looked like a broken wine bottle. Photos hanging on the walls were no longer straight, and a few laid broken on the floor. 

He gulped, staring at what stood before him. “No, no, no,” he chanted to himself, racing up the stairs. “YN, YN, where are you?” He shouted, looking around your room and bathroom upstairs. He ran back down the stairs, stopping at the bottom. “YN,” he bleated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Thor, did you find anything?” Bruce questioned from the phone in Thor’s hand.

“She’s uh….she’s not here. She’s gone,” he sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut. “All her stuff is here, but she’s gone.”

“All units responding to 761 High Ridge Drive, please be advised we also have a critical missing adult female: YN Odinson Russo.”

“He found her.” Thor’s voice dropped, making his body tensed up. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, causing the hair on his arm to stand up straight. He let out a deep calming breath, but it did nothing to calm him down. 

“Hey, man. We’ll find her.”

“Bye, Bruce,” Thor grunted, hanging up the phone. He let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How did he let this happen? He was supposed to protect you, but he failed you again. He promised you, and now, he broke that promise. He gave you to Billy without even giving you a chance, and Steve almost died in the process.

A noise behind him made his body jerk around in one swift motion with his hands raised, ready to throw a punch but dropped them once he heard it coming from the closet. He took a cautious step towards it and pulled it open, jumping back with his fists raised. He dropped them, seeing Cosmo whining and staring up at him. “What happened here boy?” 

Cosmo stepped out of the closet, and that’s when Thor’s eye caught the red marks around his mouth. “Did you bite him?” Cosmo whined, forcing a slight smile to Thor’s lips. “Did I call your kind noisy earlier; well, I meant amazing.” Thor leaned down, scratching him on the head, staring at the stained fur around his mouth. Thor’s mouth spread into a closed-mouth smile with a single tear escaping down his cheek. 

___________

Thor watched the crime scene unit take pictures, seeing the flashes repeat themselves over and over again. He bit his lip, picturing Steve lying motionless on the ground as he tried to imagine a better outcome for you. Were you okay? Were you hurt? 

“Hey, big guy. How are you holding up?” Nat asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged in response, not breaking eye contact with the front door. “Do you know what happened?”

He shook his head, catching her eye. “He did it, Nat. I know it was him; It was Billy.”

“Hey, we can’t assume it's him. For all, we know he is still in New York. We will figure this out as long as you let us do our jobs.”

“Are you kidding me?” He stood up straighter, pushing Nat’s hand away from him. “My sister, one of your best friends, goes missing, and you think some random asshole off the street came in, hit Steve over the head, and stabbed him, and then, what...for shits and giggles was like BLEUGH, let’s kidnap her. I mean, come on, who else would want to hurt her, Nat? Who?”

“You don’t think I know that. You don’t think I know what that asshole put her through. You don’t think I suspected it was him when the call came through because I did...and if you think you’re the only one hurting right now, you’re wrong,” She countered, poking him on the chest. Thor clenched his jaw, staring down at her to see tears threatening to fall in her eyes. “You need to trust us and let us do our job. The same way people put their trust in you to save their lives.” She pursed her lips, stepping away from him to go inside to look at the crime scene.”

“She’s right, man,” Clint added, standing off to the side. “Let us do our thing, and we’ll catch him.”

___________

Thor looked down at his watch, still standing in the same spot on the grass. He was supposed to be getting questioned but like everything else. They were taking their sweet time when they should be focusing on finding you.

“Hi, I’m Detective Nick Fury, and from what I understand, you're YN’s brother.” Thor tilted his head, sizing up the man with an eye patch, noticing Nat and Clint behind him. 

“Yes, how can I help?”

“From what my associates have filled me in on, they say you believe it was her ex-husband--” he flipped through his note pad “--Billy Russo. Yet, he lives some 3,000 miles away in New York City, so at this point, he isn’t guilty of anything.” He arched an eyebrow at Thor. “Did he know she was here?”

“Well… no, I don’t think so…but he did tell her if she ever left him, he would kill her.”

“Did YN tell you this?”

“Yes.”

“Did Russo threaten and/or hurt YN before this?”

“Yes.”

“She did file for divorce a day or so ago. It could have put her back on his radar.” Nat spoke up from behind him, and Fury nodded his head, writing a few notes in his notepad.

“We will look into him. Now, you mentioned to dispatch that before Rogers passed out, he mentioned someone by the name of Jig. Does that name sound familiar to you or you two behind me?” Nat and Clint both arched a bow, looking at each other, and mumbled no. 

“No, I don’t know him,” Thor answered, furrowing his brows together before his eyes shot open wide. “WAIT, Fury. I remember Steve mentioning this new friend he was playing pool with; I never met him, but now, I know why because it was Billy. He got close to Steve so he could get close to YN.” Fury stared at him, trying to wrap his head around it. “What, you don’t believe me? I mean...look at Steve’s phone. It’s right by the door; check for yourself.”

Fury sighed, looking at him. “It’s a good theory, but unfortunately, the phone is locked. We can’t open it without the victim's consent.”

“He’s in the hospital right now after almost dying. I think that gives you consent to look at any of his things as long as it pertains to finding my sister,” Thor shouted, standing up taller and pointing at the front door. 

“They will subpoena his phone records, but it’ll take time,” Nat added, crossing her arms. Thor shot her a hard glare, shaking his head with a vengeful smile.

“This is ridiculous. What if YN doesn’t have time? For all, we know she could be dead already because all of you are wasting time here instead of going out and looking for her. Come on, Billy did this.” Thor said, slapping his hand into his palm.  “It’s like every crime documentary I've watched; it’s always the husband, boyfriend, lover, or ex...” Thor rolled his eyes and started pacing back and forth. “He almost killed Steve, and he could--he could kill her next.” His voice drifted off, rubbing his forehead.

“But he didn’t…” Clint stated, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you’re right; Billy did this. He found out where she was and hurt Steve, but YN’s not here...and if all he wanted to do was kill her…”

“...then I would have found her, too,” he sniffled, clenching and unclenching his jaw. 

“And you didn’t.” Clint squeezed his shoulder. “She was alive when he took her, and we have to hold onto that right now.” Thor gulped, staring blankly at the front porch. 

“You’re right,” he breathed, staring down at Clint, nodding to Fury and Nat. “I should let you work. I’m gonna head to the hospital to see Steve...that is if we are done here?”

“We’re done for now,” Fury nodded, watching Thor go to his truck.

“You don’t think you’re gonna find her alive, do you?” Nat asked Fury, crossing her arms across her chest.

“In these situations, the most dangerous time for a woman is when she leaves her abuser. YN knew this, that’s why she was hiding, but if it is him…well, these scenarios usually don’t come with a happy ending.”

“Do we have any witnesses?” 

“None.” He shook his head. “At this time, we are still trying to access her security footage, but we did manage to get access to a street camera across the street. The image is a little grainy, but it did catch what looked to be a man forcing her into his car. All we got is a dark-colored sedan, which doesn’t exactly narrow down our search.”

“Nope, it just sounds like a bad guy's car,” Clint added, nodding his head. 

____________

Thor sat on one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, leaning his head against the wall. Steve was still in surgery, and by the looks of it, no one found you yet. Bucky and Val showed up a little while ago and were both in the corner talking with Carol, who got there first. Thor sat there quietly, staring at nothing with his blood ragging and fighting the urge to punch something. He leaned forward, hunching himself over rubbing his face with his hands. He sighed, removing his hands, spotting a pair of workbooks in front of him. His eyes traveled up to see Val standing in front of him. 

“Mind if I sit?” Thor pointed to the spot next to him and nodded with pursed lips. “I drew the short straw,” Val confessed, forcing him to scoff. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good, great even. The rage, vengeance, and anger coursing through my veins is nothing compared to what Billy is going to be feeling when I find that bastard.” He forced a smile, letting out a soft determined chuckle. Val placed a hand around his wrist, and he stared at her hand, feeling his invisible vail start to slip from his face. 

“Everyone is feeling that way right now, but how are you really?” 

He cleared his throat, glancing between Val and the floor, letting out a shaky breath. “I uh...I told YN that she didn’t need to keep running, that she should stay here and start over where she would be safe. I would keep her safe,” he sniffled, rubbing at his nose. “She had this dramatic plan all laid out, I was only her first stop, but then I convinced her to stay.  I promised her I would protect her and keep her out of harm's way.” He stared off into the distance. “But, he still found her, and I broke our promise. If she left like she planned to and she kept running, he never would’ve found her.”

Val sighed beside him, squeezing his wrist before letting go. “It’s not your fault. Yeah, sure, you might have promised her things, but I know YN wouldn’t want you blaming yourself. Hell, she would smack you upside the head if she knew what you were thinking.” She knocked her shoulder with his, and he smirked, nodding his head. “There is no telling what would've happened if she kept running. He might have caught up with her, he might not have, but if he did, she would’ve been alone and scared.”

“She’s alone with him…now” 

“But, I don’t think she is as scared as she would’ve been if it wasn’t for you being there and helping her through this.” Thor caught her eye as a stray tear fell down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away, hoping it would go unnoticed.. “Dude, she was happy here, and I bet it was the happiest she's been in a long time.”

Thor was about to say something when his phone started ringing. He pulled it from his pocket, seeing Loki's name flashing on the screen. “It’s my brother; I better take this.” Thor stood up, answering it while he walked to a quiet hallway.

“What happened, brother?”

“Why would you assume something happened? I could’ve just called to see how you’ve been or asked about the movie you’re working on.”

“It’s a theatre production, not a film, but seriously brother, what’s the problem?” 

Thor walked back and forth in the hallway, not knowing what to say or how to say it. He breathed into the phone, leaning against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 “Say something?”

“What do you want me to say? That I messed up again. And our little sister is yet again in danger because of me. Or how one of my good friends is in the hospital, fighting for his life.”

“What? She’s gone? How did this happen?” Loki shouted into the phone, forcing Thor to remove it from his ear. “Thor. You had one job, just the one; keep our little sister safe. And you couldn’t even do it,” he snapped with an exasperated tone. 

“I did keep her safe. Sorry, I wasn’t coddling her like you did in New York. I, at least let her have a life, make friends, and have fun without me being…”

“I beg your pardon, we had fun here, and she has tons of friends here,” Loki interrupted.

“Well, at least I encouraged her to stay and start over instead of galavanting around like a chicken.”

“Why a chicken?”

“It’s a saying, I don’t remember the other half of it, but it’s not important. YN managed to find a new life, and she’s happy here.”

“I never said she wasn’t happy, and she wasn’t unhappy in New York either. It all comes back to the sleazebag she married.” 

“We finally agree on something,” Thor added with a knowing smile. “If only sister could see us now?”

"She isn’t to know about this.”

“She wouldn’t believe us anyway.”

“You have a point there.” Thor could picture Loki’s wicked smirk on his face. 

“When can you get here?”

“I’m leaving for the airport now. I’ll see you soon, brother.” Loki hung up, and Thor closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Thor came back to the waiting room to find Nat and Clint there with their notepads out, probably asking them questions about Steve. He returned to the chair he was sitting in before, hunching himself over and twirling his phone around in his hand with his leg bouncing. He caught Nat’s eye, and he shot her a hard glare, shaking his head. She didn’t even care that one of her best friends was abducted; instead, she was more worried about her job and following orders; when did she decide to finally become a rule follower. Thor heard footsteps approach him, and he looked beside him to see Sam. 

“Hey man, I heard what happened. Sorry, I’m so late. I took an extra shift. Everything alright? Do you need anything?” Sam asked, taking the seat next to him.

“No news and I’m doing fine,” Thor gulped, leaning back and resting his hands together on his stomach.

“Any news on Steve?” Thor shook his head, staring straight ahead. “Do the police have any leads on YN?”

“None. As far as I am aware.” He shrugged, pointing to Nat and Clint. “They haven’t told me anything yet.”

Sam nodded, glancing between Thor and Nat, sensing something happened earlier. “How were Steve’s injuries? Was he still conscious?

“They seemed severe, but we’ve both seen worse. He had a gash on the side of his head, a knife sticking out of his torso. There was quite a bit of blood. He was unconscious, but he did manage to say YN and Jig before he passed out again. Never met him, so I don’t know if he has something to do with this. I have my theories, but the police aren’t looking into it. I told them to check his phone to see if Jig’s number matches her ex-husbands and that maybe he was lying about his name, but it’s breaking the chain of custody or some nonsense.” Thor crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Wait, Steve said Jig,” Sam questioned, and Thor nodded, having explained this multiple times so far.  “You know I suspected him to be a little off when I met him at Happy’s. He seemed a little too full of himself with his hair gelled back, and his... “ 

“You’ve met him,” Thor asked, sitting up straight with wide eyes. “If I bring up a picture of him. Do you think you could recognize him?” Sam nodded, and Thor scrolled through his phone until he found a picture of you and Billy. “Is this him?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy. How did…” Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, shit.”

“I knew it.” Thor shot out of his chair heading straight for Nat. 

____________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 16. Oh snap! How did this happen? Things were going so well, her and Steve were going to go on a date, but now she got kidnapped, Steve is in the hospital, and Cosmo got shoved into a closet. And just when Thor was starting to forgive himself for past events, this shit happens! And what is going on with Nat being a rule follower all the sudden? Interesting...And now, Loki is on his way to LA. (I never wrote him before, so I hope I did him justice!!) And for those of you that are 9-1-1 fans, it is similar to the kidnapping episode, you know the one. I like how they concocted it, so I worked off of that, but I did tweak it to my liking. As many suspected, Jig turned out to be Billy. It's a good thing Sam met him that night otherwise who knows how long it would've taken for them to realize. Also, I am curious if any of you Googled the name Jig with Marvel because I did, and he popped right up! Haha! Or did my subtle hints help you figure it out? Anyways, any theories as to what's to come? Will Thor ever be able to forgive himself? Is Steve gonna pull through? Are they going to find her in time? So many questions...I hope you all enjoyed Thor's POV in this part, I thought it would be a good change of pace. Anywho, my ramble is done, comments always welcome! Thanks again for reading! 

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

My Silver Screen, My Misery, My Love, My Defeat

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something with Billie Dean for so long but didn’t know where to start. This lady intimidates me. I don’t know what this fic is worth, and I’m so nervous about posting it - I know it’s not particularly nice, but it’s the most personal fic I ever wrote so please be kind. 

Title is from “Pacific Coast Highway In The Movies” by AWOLNATION. This song haunts me. x

Word count: ~ 3 000

“Dear me when will my life begin?” you sighed dramatically as you gathered your things.

“Bitch, I never want to see you again,” your boss growled, pointing an angry finger at you.

“Goodbye, asshole!” you called over your shoulder as you walked out of the room.

You had never cared about that job. You didn’t seem to be able to care about anything at all. You were so bored.

Real life lacked passion and colours. You were constantly hungry for a sense of wonderment. No emotion was worth feeling if it wasn’t extreme. You wanted to know how it felt to love so deeply you would faint in the dining room like the heroines of old, drive your car off a cliff, smash the heads of your lover’s suitors. When had the world and love become so boring?

You had come to believe you would never be able to fall in love with anyone. Fiction had ruined your life. You wanted beauty, you wanted glamour, you wanted passion and murder, tears shed under the stars, diamonds on the bed. You wanted a lover who would come down the stairs in a white silk gown with lace as the music and the lighting made love to her. Cherry pink lips and wavy hair, glitter in her eyes. How could anyone settle for less?

You walked into the bright sunlight and let the flow of pedestrians sweep you away.

**

You scanned the press room and sighed. Bored, you were so bored. Luckily the couches were comfortable, and the tea was good.

You worked for the local newspaper – nothing serious, nothing you were passionate about, but you had been struggling to make ends meet. You and another journalist were covering an annual festival celebrating “everything mystical and magical!” Bollocks, as far as you were concerned. But you loved festivals, you always had. There was something almost surreal about them, how time seemed to slow down, and space to narrow. A bubble would form, a dome, a world only a few were let in. Real life would stop for a while, and you loved that, because real life was boring.

The press secretary – Leo? Theo? who cared; he was uninteresting and badly dressed – waved at you from across the room. “She’s here,” he mouthed, meaning the medium you were to interview. You gave him a thumbs-up and sighed as soon as he turned his back to you. Notebook, pen, Dictaphone. Cup of tea - empty. Another sigh. You signaled to the old lady behind the counter at the far end of the room for another cup. She pretended not to see you.  

“Asshole,” you muttered between gritted teeth. Someone on the couch next to yours – Steve? Pete? he had introduced himself the day before, he worked for a national TV channel, you couldn’t remember which one – laughed loudly at something someone else had said.

Your attention was suddenly drawn to the door. The press secretary was ushering a group of people in: a young man wearing jeans, a girl clutching files to her chest, a woman who walked in as if she owned the place, high-heels clicking, smile flashing.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Pete (Steve?) point at her. “Man, that’s Billie Dean Howard,” he said in a breath.

“Who?” asked his companion.

“Oi, Miss Howard!” someone called – a photographer, jumping to his feet with his camera in his hands.

She glanced at him, offered him a polite smile; tilted her head on one side as she took a pose.

You gazed at her.

“Make sure the lighting is good,” she told the photographer.

The young man in jeans was buzzing around her, almost shoving a notebook into her face, muttering something about a timetable and how they were running out of time. She leaned away from him, holding out a perfectly manicured hand – pale pink acrylics, thin silver rings – to bat the notebook away. You saw her mouth twist in an annoyed kind of way, and then the press secretary nodded at you, and she turned, and her eyes met yours.

Her brow pushed up as a smug smile crept up her lips – plump, glittery beige lipstick. “Are you here for me, babydoll?” she called.

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was finally. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

Oh thank all the freaking Gods, she had finally come.

**

You turned on the Dictaphone and grabbed your pen. Your hands were sweating.

“Ur,” you said. Billie Dean crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee, smiling.

You had prepared for this interview, vaguely, but she had stolen all the words from you. Kidnap me, was what you wished to tell her. Ravish me. Take me away with you from this grey world and fill my mind and heart with wonderment. Make me your co-star.

“So, what do you think of the city so far?” was what came out of your mouth. You could have died of embarrassment.

Fortunately for you, Billie Dean loved to talk about herself, so you didn’t have to rack your brain for interesting questions.

You told her you had waited for her your whole life. You told her you meant it. She looked genuinely surprised, but then she smiled, a smile that seemed to suggest she had already forgiven you for that mistake. You realized that, probably, your passionate childishness was very funny to her, as were all those who had succumbed to it before you.

“The scariest spirit I’ve ever met?” She leant back on the couch, eyes staring up at the ceiling, lips curling into a smile. “I don’t get scared easily,” she quipped, and her smile turned into a smirk.

“Are you planning on staying here long?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Depends if I can find a cozy bed to sleep in and a pretty girl to smooch.”

Damn her, damn her – you were about to lean in and kiss that smug smile off her lips when the press secretary – damn him, damn him – appeared out of nowhere as in an uninspired script, squeaking “Time’s up!” as if time mattered, as if time hadn’t stopped the minute you had met Billie Dean’s eyes.

The young man in jeans pressed a cup of coffee into Billie’s hands. “Cathy’s waiting for you in the VIP room,” he said nervously. He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses. “You’re done here?”

“I – “You cleared your throat. Billie Dean was standing up, rearranging her hair, ready to leave, ready to forget already –

“You’ll have us read that article before you publish it, alright?” the young man was saying.

“Oh whatever happened to the freedom of the press,” Billie retorted. Her eyes flicked to you. “Don’t mind him.”

“I have a very cozy bed,” you heard yourself say.

For a second or two, you could have heard a pin drop.

**

Billie held your face between her hands as if you were made of porcelain, the first time she kissed you. You gazed into her eyes as if you were dreaming. “Who are you?” you whispered.

She laughed indulgently. “Don’t forget to breathe, darling.”

A breath in. She smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and something else, something like… you didn’t know. There was no word for it. She smelt like Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

**

Billie Dean raised a toast to you and to the sun and said she couldn’t possibly live without either of you. You scoffed, rolled your eyes at her as if that wasn’t the kindest thing anyone had ever said to you. She noticed your reddening cheeks, and let out a chuckle.

“What? It’s a sunburn,” you lied, fighting a smile.  

The midday summer sun was beating down on the Mediterranean, a soft breeze blowing and carrying the scent of the sea. You were spending the week in Monaco, a gift from Billie for your first anniversary. You closed your eyes, breathed in happily. The waiter brought your order, a bistro salad with warm goat cheese on toast for you, a slice of salmon and French fries for Billie. She flashed a smile at him, and his eyes sparkled.

“He’s in love,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“With me?” Billie assumed an innocent expression. “Why, I could not possibly believe that.”

You scoffed again. She smiled, pinched a thick slice of lemon between her thumb and index.

“We should come here every summer,” she said in a singsong, drizzling lemon juice over the salmon. “I love it here.”

“Ghost-free?”

She laughed. “I wish. But you look so beautiful with that sunburn.”Her eyes glanced up at you mischievously; you cleared your throat. She smirked, put the slice of lemon on the side of her plate, dried her fingers with her napkin.

“You and I, lost in a foreign country,” she said.

“Luckily for you, I took French lessons in college.”

“Oh is that so?” Under the table, Billie rubbed her bare foot up and down your leg. “And how do you say ‘kiss me’ in French?”

You leaned towards her, beaming. Your gaze flicked to her lips. “Embrasse-moi.”

“Atta girl.”

She took your breath away, every day. You bent over the table, meeting her lips halfway, smiling into the kiss.

**

“I love you,” she whispered. Her eyes smiled. “Forever.”

You pressed the pad of your thumb against her brow. “Um, you can’t know that.”

“Know that I love you?”

“Know that it’ll last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

She pouted, shifted slightly on the bed. Your thumb slid on her skin. The light streaming through the windows splashed the walls of the hotel room yellow.

“Don’t be so mean at 8 in the morning,” she whined.

You rolled your eyes at her, planted a kiss on her lips. Her skin was hot and clammy. You nuzzled your nose in her neck, blew some air to tickle her. She raised one hand to fan herself – coral acrylics, no rings.

“Call room service,” she said, stretching lazily. “I want some ice cream.”

You snorted.“Ice cream for breakfast?”

“It’s too hot.”

You reached out for the telephone and sat up, making sure your bare breasts were exposed. “Lemon?” you asked Billie. She nodded, gaze on your chest. You made a face. “I don’t understand how you can stand the taste of lemon, it’s so sour – oh, hello. Yes, could we get some lemon ice cream, please? Ice cream, yes. Room 108. And you know what, a bottle of champagne as well. Yes.” You grinned at Billie, who, face half buried in her pillow, was laughing happily. “Thank you. Muchas gracias. Yes. Bye!”

**

“Miss Howard, please.”

“Oh babe, call me Billie.”

“A little further to the left, please Billie.”

“Who’s that with you, miss Billie?”

“Be a doll and fetch me my shawl, will you darling?”

The girl – Lucy? Lily? – nodded in awe and hurried off.

“A little further to the left, Billie.”

Someone turned on a projector. You squinted, gave Billie’s hand a squeeze.

“Miss Billie, who’s that charming young woman with you? Is she your date? Miss Billie, who’s –“

Camera flashes, everywhere. You felt Billie’s lips, feather-light, brush your ear. “Relax,” she whispered. “You look beautiful.”

All around you, you could make out dark shapes, nondescript, unimportant. Spectators of the show. Come to see her, come to see you.

“Miss Billie who’s that charming –“

“Paws off!” Billie laughed. She pulled you closer, hip bumping yours. “She’s all mine, gentlemen.”

You beamed at her, brighter than the projector. Camera flashes, everywhere. To capture the moment when Billie nipped your ear lobe and you threw back your head to laugh, one hand on her arm, in love, so in love.

**

“So what are we doing this weekend?”

You glanced up at her. “Aren’t you busy this weekend?”

Billie flashed you a smile as she sat down on the couch beside you. She laid one hand on your bare thigh, nails gently grazing. “Production’s delayed. I’m all yours.”

With a wince you removed her hand from your thigh. “I’m sweating,” you whined.

Her smile faltered, just a bit. “Aren’t you happy?”she asked. And then she relaxed and shook her head. “Oh, I’m stupid. You made other plans.”

“I’ve nothing to do at all.” You stretched and winced again. “I don’t know. I’m so bored.”

**

It happened again. And again.

You caught yourself looking at other faces in the crowd. No one held a candle to Billie Dean, you knew that. But still. You scanned the crowd.

You pretended not to notice when Billie held out a hand for you to hold.

**

The glamour was fading. The twinkle of the stars was being swallowed up by the morning light.

You had once visited a house. The wallpaper was peeling off, leaving ugly streaks of dirty grey or brown. The landlady’s nail polish was chipped.  

**

Billie’s eyes were wide and rimmed red. You had never seen her look so sad.

“Wait,” she pleaded, her fingers – pale pink acrylics, vintage ring with a red stone – closing around your wrist to hold you back. “Surely we can talk – “She tried to smile, but it looked too broken, too scared.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Billie,” you said, avoiding her gaze. You hesitated. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Her face fell. “But surely – “

“Are you here for me, babydoll?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and a tear rolled down her cheek, but you didn’t wipe it as you usually would. For this was how things always went. People left each other. Staying alive meant getting bored of the people you once loved. The credits roll. The movie ends.

You planted one last kiss on her lips as a sob pushed out of your throat. “Gosh but I loved you so much,” you cried. “I hadn’t been alive before you came. You taught me how to love and now I’ve died again and I’m lost without you. I’m forever lost without my love for you.”

You kept one of her scarves. It still smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and that something else – Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

**

Colours faded to grey. You sank back into routine. Monotonous. Soporific. Boring. So very boring.

A year ago you would have expected the world to stop turning the minute you walked out of Billie Dean’s life. It didn’t. Days followed days, a succession of yesterdays and todays and tomorrows. Life went on, mocking you.

**

The smell of salmon filled the kitchen as you dropped the thick slices onto the burning pan. You smiled as Julie – a one-night stand that somehow had become more – made an appreciative noise. She was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV lazily, muttering “Boring” every time she changed the channel.

“Boring,” – another channel, “Boring,” – another channel, “Bo – oh hello there! Y/N, look, I spot a milf!”

You looked up as the anchorman’s face twisted into a fawning smile. “I’ve got Muriel here on the phone, from Portland, Oregon. Muriel sounds pretty worried. She wants to know if ghosts stay forever as ghosts or if they ever get to find peace.”

The camera cut to his guest – coral acrylics, no rings. The salmon’s grease sizzled on the pan.

“Nice pair of legs,” Julie was saying. “Come on, cameraman, don’t be shy, show us more!”

You shushed her.

“… some of them have been dead for a very long time, I’m afraid,” Billie Dean answered with an affected nod of her head.

Your eyes were wide.

“And what about love?” the anchorman asked.

Billie quirked an eyebrow. “Love?”

“Do you think it’s eternal?”

**

“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow!” your friend Henry moaned drunkenly. He tapped his foot on the pavement like a pouting child. “Couldn’t we buy a house on one of those hills and live here? I wanna live here. I don’t wanna live anywhere else.”

“I know,” you giggled, pulling on his arm. The night was full of lights. You hadn’t expected less from Los Angeles. You hadn’t quite been able to find the angels in the sky, though. You kept an eye out for them.

“The world isn’t fair because we’re poor.”Henry walked up to the nearest streetlight and hugged it. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving.”

You giggled again, stretching your arms as if you were about to break into dance. The air was warm. For the past few days your heart hadn’t been quite so sad.

A car honked nearby, making you jump, and just as you were about to curse a woman shot out of the hotel on your left in a flurry of yellow and blue and nearly smashed into you – “Shit, look where you’re go – “ – brown eyes, gaze terrified, shoes in her hands, cheeks pink and – “Billie?”

She slammed back into your life like the female protagonist of a Hitchcock movie, running from danger in the moonlight with her hair disheveled and her dress billowing in the wind.

“Billie?”

You caught hold of her wrist and tried to meet her gaze. “Are you alright? What – what happened to you? Did somebody hurt you? Are you alright?” You poured questions onto her as if you couldn’t stop. Her eyes focused on you, and she ran a hand through her hair, and let out a nervous laugh.  

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was once again. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

**

“Never again,” Billie groaned into your mouth. She was holding your head firmly between her hands, devouring you, shivering, panting. “Don’t you dare leave me ever again.”

“I love you,” you moaned. You pushed her down on the bed, eyes flashing hungry and predatory as you took in the sight of her, all flushed and ready for you. “Forever.”

And as you dived in you could almost forget the taste of that one lie.

**

“What about love?” the anchorman asked. “Do you think it’s eternal?”

Billie’s smile faltered. “I’m not sure,” she answered slowly.

“Aw, poor chick got her heart broken,” Julie mocked.

“Lemon?” you asked her.

“Uh?”

“Should I put some lemon juice on the salmon?”

“I hope so,” Billie’s voice said. “I’m not sure – but I hope so.”

[pappydaddy]

Mashed Potatoes and Joel Hoekstra (b.h.)

 A/N: This is for the lovely anon who wanted a Billy x Byers!Reader. I was so excited to write this one, I loved this request (I am loving ALL requests, but I’ve been loving these Billy ones lately!). Definitely very fun to write this one so thank you so much for requesting doll! Hope you love it lovely anon💛!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Byers!Reader

Show/Movie: Stranger Things

Requested

Warnings: Mean people, bullying, prejudice, the shits of the teenage years, but fluff in the end!

Remember guys! Your family name does not define you or someone else! It’s who they are that defines them, it’s who you are that defines you. It’s how you act, how you treat people, etc. Just like you don’t judge a book by it’s cover, you don’t judge a person by their name. If anyone tries to put you in a box simply because of a prejudice with your name, ignore them. I know it’s hard, I know - trust me, but they really don’t deserve your time. And if you feel trapped in a box because of your name, just know that you can break free from that box. My DMs are ALWAYS open if you lovelies need to talk💛!

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation - not my gif - 

  “Billy,” Y/N’s soft voice broke the tranquil silence that had settled over the room. Her finger that had been tracing random shapes on his chest stopped moving, her eyes flicking around the darkroom as she waited for him to respond in some way. She knew he wasn’t asleep by the lack of snores lowly rumbling in his chest (which she also laid her head upon) and his breathing pattern. He hummed, the sound reverberating in his chest, his hand still stroking up and down along the dip in her back where her spine was. “We’ve been dating for a few months now-” 

  “Six months.” He interjected, pressing a warm kiss to the top of her head. 

  “Right, yeah, we’ve been dating for six months,” She nodded, her already tangled hair tangling a bit more. Her voice was nervous, not knowing how he would react to her bringing this up. “And I was just thinking that maybe it would be time for you to meet my family,” She asked, her voice pitching up towards the end. “Maybe. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it’s just everyone else I’ve dated has met them by now, but then again, everyone else I’ve ever dated left a few weeks after meeting them so-”

  “You’re rambling again, Bug.” Billy cut her off gently, knowing that she rambled and rants when she’s nervous and scared. Her cheeks heated up, burning as she settled back down to cuddle into Billy’s bare chest. 

  “Sorry.” She whispered. 

  Billy pressed another kiss to her hair, knowing that her ex’s all harped on her about her nervous rambles, making her snap her mouth shut and sink into herself. “Nothing to be sorry for, Bug, you’re nervous.” He reassured her. 

  She took a deep breath, calming herself as Billy gave her the silent support she needed. “Back on track,” She nodded her tone calm once again. “I still think you should meet my family because they are really important to me and you’re really important to me and I just really would like it if you guys got along,” She expressed nervously. The room was silent as she waited impatiently for his response, her breath was hitched, her mind automatically assuming that he was going to leave her right here, right now because he didn’t want to meet her family or worse, not feel the same about her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to; if you’re not there in the relationship, that’s fine, we can take a few steps back if you’d like-” She started to shrink away from him, her mind panicking as it continued to imagine him leaving her like the rest - like her father. 

  “No-” Billy interjected softly, gently pulling her back to be flush against him. “I’ll meet your family only if you get some sleep, it’s late and you’re exhausted. He bargained, suddenly feeling nervous and wanting her to go to sleep for her sake and his. 

  “Okay, deal.” She yawned, closing her eyes, snuggling her cheek farther into his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. Billy squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to control his heartbeat so he didn’t alert her to his sudden nervousness. 

____  

  The next day was relaxed other than Billy’s increasing nervousness. He loved Y/N, he was at that place in the relationship where the only logical step would be to meet each other’s family, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of doom. For one, meeting her family meant she would have to meet his family and he wanted to keep her as far away from Neil as possible. Secondly, the Byers family had a certain reputation around Hawkins High and Middle and Billy had heard all about it from his friends. Of course, he was stand-off-ish of Y/N before they started dating because of this reputation, but everything turned out fine with her so why wouldn’t her family be the same? 

  “What’s got you so quiet, Hargrove?” Tommy asked aggressively as they mulled around the locker room, changing after gym class. Billy jolted out of his thoughts as he just stood, staring into his locker. Looking back at Tommy, he blinked at him for a second before comprehending what his question was. 

  “Uh, nothing,” Billy shook his head, grabbing his shirt from his locker, slipping it on. “It’s just that Y/N invited me over to meet her family.” He had no idea why he was confessing this to Tommy and his other friends of all people, knowing how they feel about Y/N and the rest of her family. The words had tumbled out before he could even think about stopping them. 

  “Woah,” Tommy exclaimed, laughing as he pretended to back away from Billy as if he were carrying some sort of contagious disease. “Boys! Say good-bye to the Billy we all know because soon, he’s gonna be infected by the Weird-os.” His statement earned a chorus of laughs from the boys huddled around. 

  “Buzz off Tommy, they can’t be that bad. I mean, Y/N is great!” Billy said mostly to himself, closing his locker. 

  “Sure, she’s the most normal one,” Tommy shrugged. “But the rest of them man,” He shook his head as if telling some old wise tale. “They are complete basket cases. Completely messed in the head. Look at Jonathan for an example,” Tommy paused, walking over to Billy and slinging his arm over his shoulder. “Nobody talks to him, he sits in the back of the classes or in that stupid dark room, playing with his stupid little camera.” 

  “Y/N says that he’s quiet and works most of the time so he doesn’t have much time to hang out and the time he does have, he chooses to practice photography.” Billy pointed out, pushing Tommy’s arm off him. Tommy remained unfazed, leaning against the lockers as he continued.

  “Alright, if not Jonathan, then the younger one,” He paused, using his hands to set the scene. “He died, okay? Died and came back to life like in one of his freaky little movies he and his dork friends watch,” Billy glared at him, knowing full well that Max was one of his friends. “Much like his brother, he just sits there and colours and colours and colours. He’s in middle school and still colours like a pre-schooler.” 

  “He’s pretty talented, I’ve seen some of his pictures in the car when Y/N has it.” 

  “Now, let’s talk about the mother. She works at a general store, she dated that geek from Radio Shack, her husband left her, she had a meltdown in the middle of the street, she bought all the fucking lights in Hawkins because she thought her dead son was talking to her through them,” He paused. Billy opened his mouth to defend Joyce, but Tommy cut him off. “They are weird, Hargrove. They are completely nuts and you better prepare to be just as nuts because I am pretty sure it’s contagious.” 

  “Just look at Harrington and Wheeler,” Another guy piped up, making Billy look towards him. “They started to hang around with the Byers and look at them, they turned just as crazy. Constantly looking over their shoulders, Harrington only hangs around kids now, always having hushed conversations with them and Wheeler only talks to Jonathan now.” 

  “That’s not-” 

  ‘That’s not the same,” Tommy cut Billy off with a question. “It is exactly the same. Meeting the Byers is like the kiss of death. Kills your social life and makes you crazy-” 

  “Billy,” Y/N’s voice called into the locker room from the door she held slightly open. “Are you in here, we should really be getting to lunch, I’m starving!” 

  “Yeah, be out in a second!” He called to her, the door softly closing in response. He nervously looked at the door as Tommy clicked his tongue. 

  “It’s your choice, Hargrove, it’s your grave you’re digging.” Billy glared at him, shrugging on his jean jacket and leaving the locker room. His eyes met Y/N easily, seeing her talking to Steve excitedly. Though Billy still didn’t like Steve, he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity at that given time to deal with his fluffy-haired nemesis, too busy fretting about what to do about meeting Y/N’s family. 

  “There you are, I was worried that you accidentally slammed your head in the locker or something,” She joked, not realizing that Billy was actually considering it. He didn’t want to make her think that he wasn’t ready to take the next step in the relationship, but I also was scared now. As much as he wanted to admit that he didn’t trust Tommy H and all the other guys, he really did want to say that he let their warnings roll off his back, but he couldn’t. “Come on, I want to eat, see you, Steve!” She grabbed Billy’s hand, pulling him out of the gym and into the halls. 

  “What were you talking to Harrington about?” He asked, hoping that it was completely unrelated to her having him over for dinner. 

  “About you meeting my family,” She chirped happily. Billy wanted to deflate right there. Of course it had to be about that. It couldn’t have been about anything else. Anything to take his mind off something so anxiety inducing. “He thinks it’s a great idea! He said that you would love my family and I really hope he’s right.” 

  “I really hope so too-” He muttered under his breath. 

  “What was that?” She asked, her brows furrowing as she leaned in closer. 

  “Nothing, Bug.” He told her, hoping she would buy it. She pulled a face, shrugging before regaining her giddy mood. 

  “Must have just been hearing things,” She chalked it up. “Anyway, I was thinking that you should come round to my place at seven? My mom is off today so she’s been prepping for this since nine this morning!” 

  “Yeah, about that,” Billy spoke slowly, dreading what he was about to do. He really didn’t want to do it, but he needed to buy himself sometime so he could figure out his next move. Find a way to keep Y/N while not having to meet her family. “I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach, Bug. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to go tonight.” 

  “Oh no,” She gasped, her hand squeezing his affectionately as she stopped in the hallway. “You might have overdone it in gym today, especially when I accidentally kicked that soccer ball right into your stomach, sorry about that by the way.” 

  “No, it wasn’t that, but you do have one hell of a kick on you,” He shook his head, not wanting her to blame herself. “I just think I’m coming down with something and I really don’t want to infect your family.” He lied through his teeth. 

  She awed, her hand coming up to cup his cheek sweetly. “That’s so sweet,” She cooed. Her hand slid from his face as disappointment flashed across her face, but it was gone as soon as it came, or at least she tried to fake it. Billy could see the disappointment she tried to bury, his heart pulling at the sight of it, knowing that he was the one who caused it. “It’s alright, I want you to worry about your health first. I’ll just go call my mom and tell her that there was a change of plans-” She paused, looking for a quarter as she tried to ignore the worry bubbling up once again. “Could I borrow a quarter? I think I spent mine calling her earlier to check up.” She asked, extending her flat palm, waiting for him to drop a quarter in it. 

  Billy tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He could tell she was thinking that he was trying to avoid meeting her family because he just didn’t want to. While there was some truth to that, he couldn’t let her feel like he was pulling away from her. “You know what,” He pushed her hand back down to her side. “I’m going to go to the nurse and see if she can help me. I’ll see you before next period and update you, Bug.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before running off down the hall. 

  “Okay-” She breathed out, shocked. She watched him run past Tommy and his gaggle of idiots, the group watching him run - laughing. 

  “Oh, the crazy is already starting to rub off on you, Hargrove!” Tommy yelled, but Billy either ignored it or didn’t hear it. Y/N eyed Tommy oddly before eyeing Billy’s retreating form. 

____

  The fact that Billy stood at the front door of the Byers’ house was a miracle in itself, considering how many times Billy considered swerving hard right into a tree in order to escape this night, but he pushed forward, knowing that Y/N was worth it. He tightened his grip on the bouquet of flowers, the thorns digging into his hand making him wince. Groaning, he switched holds, shaking his stinging hand out. He felt constricted in his clean cut clothes, his button-up buttoned more than usual, only the first two buttons being undone. The slacks itched his legs and made him feel like he was heading to a Sunday service. 

  Taking a deep breath, he raised his close fist, hitting his knuckles against the door twice in rapid succession. He could hear a scuffle from behind the door and Y/N’s distinctive voice pleading with her mother to let her answer it. The door was jerked open, revealing a breathless woman and a blushing Y/N standing in the back looking defeated. “You must be Y/N’s sister.” Billy used his normal line that worked wonders on mothers, but he was so off his game that he sounded a bit nervous, spitting the line out a few moments too late. The woman didn’t seem to mind, taking the compliment easily.  

  “Oh, stop it,” She flicked her hand, a wide smile nearly breaking her face as she laughed. “You must be Billy,” She continued to giggle, the laughter making her look youthful. If Billy hadn’t known that she had two teenagers and a pre-teen, then Billy would have thought she was much younger. “I’m Joyce, come on in, you must be cold,” She ushered him in hurriedly, her hand guiding him into the warm, cozy house as it rested on his upper back. “Standing out there in only a shirt in this fall weather.” She shook her head, closing the door behind him. 

  “Mom-” Y/N whined, embarrassed by her mother’s fussing. Joyce gave her a look, silencing the whine. 

  “You stop that and get this poor boy a drink,” Joyce insisted, leading Billy over to one of the couches. With a small groan in protest, Y/N ducked into the kitchen and out of Billy’s sight, sending him right on edge again. He sat on the couch, his clammy hands running over his slacks as his eyes watched Joyce. She was fairly gentle and normal looking for someone everyone called insane. “Will, go grab Jonathan from the shed, supper is going to be in a few minutes.” Joyce told the small looking boy who worked at setting the table for five, a mismatched chair added to the four that looked like they normally surround the table.

  “You have a lovely home Ms. Byers, thank you for having me.” He extended the pleasantry, seeing Y/N coming into the room with a glass of water. 

  “Please, call me Joyce,” She told him, waving him off once again. “And it’s no problem, Hunny. We’re glad to have you. You’re welcome anytime!” She reassured him, thinking that his nerves were from the donating task of meeting the family for the first time. 

  “Will do.” Billy nodded, gulping down his water. Y/N sat next to him on the couch, her hand naturally falling to his knee. Though his nerves lifted with each passing second he spends with them, he couldn’t seem to get Tommy’s warnings out of his head. 

  “You know, my mom was so excited for you to get here, she side-checked me out of the way to get the door,” Y/N told him, giggling. That seemed normal enough, they all seemed to have a good relationship with each other. It was more functional than his family and they were deemed normal. “And I definitely think you made her entire night with your comment.” 

  “Kids, dinner is ready,” Joyce called from the kitchen. Y/N patted Billy’s leg, standing up. Billy swallowed thickly, feeling like he was walking to his death as he neared the table filled with loads of dishes full of a beautiful home-cooked meal. “Billy, dear, you’re the guest so you can sit here,” Joyce patted the chair at the head of the table, before pointing to the chair next to it that sat between the wall and the table. “Y/N, you sit there.” She instructed her daughter. 

  “So, Billy,” Will spoke up, taking his place beside Y/N, looking directly at the blonde as he scooted his chair in. “Max tells me you like rock music. What’s your favourite band?” He posed the question, grabbing the pitcher of water and filling his glass up. 

  “Uh- I’ve been listening to a lot of Whitesnake lately, but I would say the Scorpions are my favourite band I guess.” Billy answered him, his hands nervously hovering over his plate, not sure what he should be doing. 

  “That’s cool, I like The Clash the most personally, but I like watching the Whitesnake videos, their hair is really cool-” Will nodded, accepting Billy’s answer. 

  “And where have you been watching Whitesnake videos, young man?“ Joyce perked in eyebrow at the youngest, making him shrink back slightly, but Billy could tell it was all playful banter. 

  “At Dustin’s.” He admitted, making Y/N laugh and nod as if it were to suspected. 

  “That was probably Steve’s doing, no doubt.” Y/N pointed out, filling up her own water before filling Billy’s glass automatically.

  “Yeah, it was Steve, he turned MTV on while he was watching us play D&D,” Will perked up at the mention of Steve. Looking right at Billy, he excitedly spoke. “I drew Joel Hoekstra a few months ago, but I made fire shoot out the end of the neck of his guitar. It’s insanely cool.” 

  “Billy, you haven’t gotten any food yet! Go on, you get some first.” Joyce noticed, holding a bowl of mashed potatoes to him. He looked at the bowl of potatoes, perfectly whipped. To anyone else at the table, it was just a bowl of starch and butter, but to Billy, it was the sign that they weren’t crazy. They were just not fitting into the box that everyone says you have to fit in. Looking at the bowl, he felt every bit of nervousness and apprehensiveness leave his body. Smiling, he gently took the bowl, scooping some out onto his plate, causing everyone to start putting food on their plates. 

  “Hey, Will,” Billy spoke up, causing everyone to look at him nervously. Jonathan eyed him, not trusting him yet. “Maybe after dinner, you could show me that drawing? Joel Hoekstra is my favourite member of Whitesnake.” He suggested, causing the boy to light up. Y/N smiled gently, her hand laying over Billy’s gratefully. Who knew that some mashed potatoes and Joel Hoekstra was all it took to see the Byers for who they were.