#but billy is a close second even if he's boring

[tomriddleslove]

Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

[loveinhawkins]

The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

[eiightysixbaby]

sunscreen and chlorine

word count: 3.5k

pairing: lifeguard!eddie x fem!reader

summary: things get steamy during an unbearably hot day at the hawkins pool.

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI - SMUT. oral (m receiving), sexual innuendos with a popsicle, sex in a public place, unprotected p in v, creampie, billy is mentioned in this lol. lmk if i forgot any!

author’s note: lifeguard!eddie has been invading my brain for days so here, have this.

It was hot. So, so unbelievably hot. The kind of heat where you step outside and feel like you can’t breathe for a second, where the air feels thick and heavy and sweat clings to your skin relentlessly. There was no breeze, none at all, just stagnant heat lingering. Naturally, just about everyone in Hawkins was at the community pool, dying for a way to cool down. Bare feet walking on hot pavement, vibrant swimsuits almost blinding in the sun. Brightly colored beach balls being tossed around in the water as screams and splashes rang out. Eddie sat perched in his lifeguard chair, bright red swim trunks covering his bottom half, stopping a little bit above his knees. A black tank top rested on his torso, clinging tight to modest muscles. Even in the blistering summer, Eddie wasn’t one to parade around with his shirt off. Much unlike Billy, who would take any chance he could get to be wearing as little clothing as possible, showing off his biceps to the suburban mothers who’d fawn over him. Bored women who married boring men that they felt close to nothing for, all for the sake of having that nuclear family, now dying to relive their teenage years. Eddie would occasionally throw scandalous remarks their way when they’d whistle at him, but for the most part he didn’t bite.

Eddie was honest to god sweltering, to put it lightly. The shade from the umbrella attached to the chair provided little comfort for him, but at least it kept most of his skin from receiving direct sun exposure. He’d already applied sunscreen several times, rubbing the white cream all over just to sweat it off a half hour later, and then repeat the process. His pale skin was unforgiving in the summer months, quick to turn an angry red if Eddie wasn’t careful about being in the sun. There’d been one too many occasions where he’d sat perched on the kitchen counter after hot summer days, Wayne rubbing aloe on his stinging skin. Sometimes Eddie isn’t sure why he chose to have a job that required him to be exposed to the elements so often, but hey, it pays the bills.

He peered through his sunglasses at all of the patrons in the pool, wishing he could feel the cool water on himself. His hair was pulled back into a low bun, keeping the heavy curls from making his neck too warm. He kept himself occupied any way he could, blowing his whistle at kids who insisted on running around the pool grounds despite several signs warning not to, laughing to himself when they’d slow to a walk, staring up at him with guilty eyes. Sat high on his perch, his eyes scanned over the various suspects down below - teenage girls sprawled out on towels, pretending like they weren’t absolutely miserable in the sun as they tanned their skin, Jason Carver walking towards the pool with Chrissy Cunningham over his shoulders, laughing in protest about the water being too cold, Billy flirting excessively with anything with a pulse instead of watching the pool. Eddie huffed a sigh, for as busy a day as it was, there was very little for him to actually do. Not that he wanted to have to, you know, save somebody from drowning today or something, but he was just bored. Ninety-five percent of the town’s population had to be here today, and yet none of his friends were around to keep him entertained. He was hot, he was cranky, and he just wanted to go home and unwind. Needed to smoke a joint, maybe rub one out, and go the fuck to sleep.

After yelling at some teenager to stop dunking unsuspecting people under the water, he resumed his people watching. His whistle sat loosely in his mouth, Eddie absentmindedly fidgeting with the silver metal between his teeth, whispers of that shrill chirping sound fighting their way out of the object every time he’d exhale too hard. Pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them on top of his head, his brown eyes roamed over the grounds until they landed on you. He recognized you, remembers you from high school though you two were never close. A pretty thing - you always have been - sprawled across a lounge chair, one leg crossed over the other casually. Water droplets dried on your skin, and the ends of your hair were wet, indicating your recent swim. You had a popsicle pressed between your lips, sticky red juice melting down your hand, the heat affecting the sweet ice too fast for you to keep up with. He doesn’t fully realize how hard he’s been staring until your eyes catch his, and you cock an eyebrow at him. He feels his cheeks heat up, for once from something other than the sun, and is about to just scamper down from his chair and into a hole in the ground before you wave at him, fingers delicately wiggling his way.

He gives you a casual wave back, fully catching the smile that you try to cover with your hand. Your eyes are unwavering on his thin frame, taking in his pale skin that’s littered here and there with tattoos. Gaze pausing on the soft muscles in his arms, trailing down to the fabric of his swim trunks, bunched up just below the waistband, concealing the rest of him that you’d very much like to see. You notice that he doesn’t stop looking at you, either. Eddie shamelessly lets his eyes rake up your legs, the vibrant pink of your bathing suit complimenting the rest of you. He swears his heart almost stops when he meets your eyes again, noticing the sultry look in them as you slowly push your popsicle past your lips once more. It almost completely disappears in your mouth before you pull it out, excruciatingly slowly. You lick it from bottom to top, tongue flat against the strawberry flavored treat, eyes never leaving Eddie’s.

He feels his cock twitch slightly in his swim trunks, suddenly finding it incredibly hard to focus on doing his job. You knew what you were doing, and you weren’t about to back down from what Eddie could tell. The dense heat was getting to his head, his brain turning to mush as he watched you. Juice from the popsicle slowly trickled down your chin until you wiped it with your fingers, proceeding to stick the index and middle in your mouth, sucking the sweet syrup off. Eddie shifts in his seat, subtly adjusting the fabric of his swim trunks, trying to conceal the bulge growing beneath them. You notice the awkward movement, lips twisting into a smirk as your mouth resumes its work on your popsicle. By the time you’ve consumed the entirety of the cold treat, pulling the last bit off the stick with your teeth and letting it melt in your mouth, Eddie is uncomfortably hard. He’s pulled the bright red rescue tube that was once secured at the side of the lifeguard chair over his lap, which wouldn’t seem like a calculated maneuver to anyone except you. You know the effect you’ve had on him, and he knows you’re enjoying it. Now that you’re done putting on a little show for him, he’s not sure what to do next. Was that it? Seductively eat your popsicle for him and it’s over, resume his shift as normal? He couldn’t exactly shout across the way at you to ask for your number - or at least, he didn’t want to make an absolute buffoon of himself trying.

He didn’t have to deliberate for long before he caught you jerking your head to the side, eyes following in the direction of the changing rooms and showers. You stood slowly from your chair, making sure he got the hint, before walking towards the big blue door to the women’s changing rooms. He couldn’t help but admire the way your ass looked as you walked away from where he was perched, soft flesh peeking out around the fabric of your bathing suit bottoms. Eddie was fully aware of the fact that fooling around with you at his place of employment in the middle of his shift was probably not a wise idea, but fuck it. He couldn’t hold off any longer. Gangly legs climbed down the steps of the lifeguard post until his feet hit the pavement below, almost immediately protesting at the heat coming from the concrete. He walked quickly in the direction you had led him, pulling his shirt over his head and bunching it in front of him to conceal the horrendously obvious tent in his pants. He approached Billy who gave him a questioning look.

“Cover for me for a few, man,” Eddie said quietly, for only Billy to hear, shoving the rescue tube at the shorter man for him to take.

“What?” Billy asked, stumbling back ever so slightly as Eddie presses the red safety equipment into his chest.

“Just fucking cover for me,” his voice was firm, and he walked away before Billy could say another word. The other man huffed an annoyed sigh as he headed for the lifeguard chair.

Eddie stepped cautiously into the changing rooms, not wanting to startle any unsuspecting pool patrons, but was pleasantly surprised when the only person he found inside was you. You leaned against a wall nonchalantly, twisting a lock of your hair around your fingers, smiling warmly at him.

“Hey, handsome. Decided to join me?” your voice is playful as you eye him up and down.

“That little show you put on sure was something, sweetheart,” Eddie says lowly, stalking slowly towards you.

“Just wanted to get you all worked up for the real deal,” you smirk at him, and he swallows a lump in his throat.

“Give me one sec,” he says quickly, turning on his heel.

Eddie heads back towards the door, grabbing the maintenance sign that sits in the corner. It reads, ‘Sorry! Temporarily closed for cleaning. We apologize for the inconvenience. -Hawkins Community Pool Staff’. He posts it on the outside of the door, letting the heavy metal swing closed behind him. Best to cover all of his bases here, he certainly doesn’t want any kids getting scarred for life today.

“We don’t exactly want an audience, now do we?” he asks as he walks slowly back towards you.

“No, no I guess not,” you reply, index finger bent with the nail between your teeth, a nervous habit shining through your casual demeanor.

Eddie stands mere inches away from you, breath fanning your face every time he exhales. He finds it hard to contain himself, wants nothing more than to have his hands on you. He steps even closer, looking down at you, loose strands of hair falling from his bun. He discarded the shirt he’d been holding onto the floor, and you find your eyes trailing down to his crotch, the slight bulge beneath the brightly colored fabric looking ever so appealing. His big brown eyes watch you intently, searching for any signs of your discomfort.

“You sure you want this?” he asks, voice steady.

“Yeah, ‘m sure. I’ve secretly been wanting you since we were fucking eighteen, so,” you laugh lightly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Shit, you could’ve been teasing me with popsicles this whole time?” Eddie jokes, reaching his hands out and letting them gently rest on your hips.

You’re quiet, just admiring the soft freckles on his face and the warm brown of his eyes and those full pink lips. Eddie notices the way your eyes linger on his mouth, and his lips curl into a wicked grin.

“What’re you looking at me like that for, honey? Need something?” Eddie asks, teasing, his face so deliciously close to yours.

“Think I’m in serious need of mouth to mouth…” you say, trying to tease him back but your voice is breathy.

In an instant he’s swept you into a kiss. He groans softly as your hands climb up the back of his neck, tugging on his hair where it meets his scalp. His head is swirling, still fuzzy from the early July heat and now from the feel of your soft lips on his. You smell like sunscreen and chlorine, taste like artificial strawberry flavoring. Your lips are passionate yet gentle in their movements against his, and he wants to melt onto the floor for someone to mop up later. The kiss deepens rapidly before Eddie finally has to break away, the temperature in the large room growing to be unbearable. You read his mind before he can even say anything, and pull him into a shower stall, turning the water on to a comfortably cool temperature. You close the curtain behind you, and when you turn back to face him you drop to your knees, hands grabbing at the soft fabric of his swim shorts.

Eddie feels like he’s floating, like the scorching day got to his head and he’s having some weird fever dream hallucination. The feeling of your fingers ghosting over his happy trail and hooking under the waistband of his shorts brings him back down to earth. He sucks in a sharp breath as you tug the swim trunks down, his cock springing free a couple inches from your face. You’re mesmerized at the sight in front of you. He was big, longer than most you’ve seen but less thick. His cock seemed to stare you directly in the face, flushed pink tip leaking pre cum. A small patch of dark curls rested at the base, and his heavy balls hung low beneath. You lick your lips, cool water from the shower falling in small streams over his shoulders and down his chest. The smooth tile floor is hard against your knees, you’re sure they’ll be bruised and sore tomorrow. You grab the base of him, tapping the tip of his cock on your tongue a few times, looking up at him with wide doe eyes. Eddie hisses, grabbing fistfuls of your hair with his hands.

“Don’t be a tease, honey,” he growls down at you, and you look at him innocently.

“Me? Never,” you reply, taking the head of his cock in your mouth in one swift movement.

He inhales abruptly, then lets out a sigh as you slowly bob your head on his cock, adjusting to the warm feeling of your mouth. You take him as deep as you can, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him. Eddie groans in response to this, pulling tighter on your hair, silently begging for you to do it again. You oblige, letting the head of his cock abuse your throat, mouth wide open for him.

“Fuck, baby, feels so fucking good,” Eddie’s voice is deeper than before, his eyes dark as they watch your movements.

You lean down further, sucking his balls into your mouth, letting your tongue roll over the stretchy skin. He genuinely yelps, surprised at the contact, eyes squeezed shut. You smile to yourself before sucking them into your mouth once again, Eddie’s whines and whimpers echoing throughout the walls of the building. You bring a hand up to toy with his balls as you redirect your mouth’s attention to the swollen tip of his cock, practically pleading for you to take it past your lips. Eddie’s in shambles as you lick and suck his sensitive head, cleaning the salty pre cum off with your tongue. You take him fully into your mouth again without warning, eliciting moans and curses as he steadies himself with one hand on the shower wall. The contrast between the cold water hitting his back and the sticky humid air tickling the skin of his chest made his head spin, the warmth of your mouth engulfing him only adding to the varying sensations. He feels himself inching closer and closer towards release, and he abruptly grabs your chin and pulls you gently off of him.

“Can I fuck you, baby? Need to be inside that pussy,” he’s trying to maintain his composure but the words come out like a whine, like he’s desperate for you.

You nod as you look up at him, admiring the water droplets that fall from his bangs and the tip of his nose, pussy throbbing between your thighs as his cock rests inches from your face.

“Use your words, pretty thing. Tell me I can fuck you,” Eddie coaxes you, pulling you to stand in front of him

“Yes, Eddie, please. Want you to fuck me,” your eyes are pleading and it makes his cock twitch.

He wraps his arms around to your backside, signaling for you to jump. He holds you securely, back now pressed against one of the shower walls, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips are on yours instantly, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth with fervor as you whimper for him. His mouth travels down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Hot tongue licking your sticky skin, the faint taste of sweat lingering. He pushes the wet fabric of your swimsuit bottoms to the side, lining himself up with your entrance. He kisses you deeply as you feel him slide into you, stretching you open just for him, velvety walls snug around his cock. He groans into your mouth, pushing himself slowly in to the hilt, and your nails claw at his back in desperation. The stretch is so good your toes curl, your body begging and screaming for more.

“P-please, Eddie, oh my god,” you whine, Eddie’s lips now attacking your neck.

“What, honey? What do you need?” Eddie purrs, big hands squeezing the soft flesh of your ass.

“Need you to move, fuck me rough Eddie, please,” you beg him, clinging to him like a vice.

He gets his bearings on the slippery floor before rutting up into you, slick sounds of wet skin on wet skin bouncing around the shower stall. Eddie gasps as his cock fills you once more, every thrust reaching so deep, his thick fingers pressing into your smooth skin as he supports your weight. You can hear faint screams and laughter from the pool outside, and the reminder of the way no one on the outside knows what Eddie’s doing to you in here makes you dizzy with desire. Eddie’s grunting with every snap of his hips, hair frizzy and bangs sticking to his forehead, a panting mess as he fucks you like his life depends on it. You’re sure your lower back will be sore after this, every jolt to your body ramming you against the wall, but you’re too drunk on Eddie to care. The way your legs are wrapped around him opens you up for his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you, and you’re screaming his name as he pounds relentlessly into your sopping cunt.

“Yeah? Feels good, baby? You like having my cock deep inside you?” Eddie rasps into your ear, hips moving at an unforgiving pace.

The friction against your clit as his body moves against yours paired with the way his cock hits your favorite spot inside of you has you approaching your release rapidly, your body aching to let go. Eddie’s close, too, moaning out strings of curse words and praise as your walls suck him in.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey, where do you want it?” he asks breathlessly, brown eyes blown wide as they search your face.

“Inside, need it inside,” you choke the words out, so blissed out it’s hard to speak.

Eddie picks up his pace, hips stuttering as he lets himself go. You feel his cock twitch, warmth spreading inside you as he pumps you full of his cum. Your orgasm hits you the second you feel him fill you, clenching around his already spent cock, milking him for everything he’s got. Eddie presses his forehead to yours, releasing the harsh grip on your hips as he gently sets you down. Your legs tremble, cum leaking out of you and dripping down the insides of your thighs. You rinse them off with the water from the shower head, before turning it off.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Eddie pants, pulling his swim trunks up before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“When do you get off work? Maybe you could come over after,” your voice is shy as you suggest it.

“I’m the closing guard tonight, actually. Sooo… I could totally get fired for this, but if you wanted to come back here around 8pm after lock up, I could give you some, y’know, private swimming lessons,” he smirks, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

“Count me in, baby. I think I’m gonna be needing lessons weekly, though…” you trail off, heavy lidded eyes looking at him as you twirl his hair around your fingers.

“I can work with that,” Eddie grins, pulling you into a kiss.

As the heat of the day eventually fades into a hazy nightfall, Hawkins residents slowly filing out of the pool and returning home, Eddie thinks of nothing but you. Billy almost slugged him for leaving him in charge for so long, but in Eddie’s book it was worth it. Sure enough, at 8pm on the dot, you saunter towards the gate to the pool. In your left hand was another popsicle.

Eddie was sure you’d be the death of him tonight.

[hopelessrromantix]

kinktober day 10 boot riding

daddy kink, amab reader yes ill post the missing days i swear sjdkf

cis women dni

The longer you stayed at a party, the more boring it got.

Sure, getting drunk and high and fucking around with your classmates was a good time. But after hours of huddling together with sweaty drugged up teenagers and having generic music blasted into your ears, it got a bit boring.

But Billy always found a way to make it more entertaining. Normally by pulling off a rather impressive keg stand. For once, he’d offered to be the designated driver (mostly because you’d done it for the past four parties and refused to do it again), so you were downing your second drink, talking to some junior you barely knew. The buzz of a high was clouding your head, though it wasn’t enough to impair your judgment.

But apparently your boyfriend felt like pissing you off tonight.

Eventually the junior wandered off, probably to flirt with someone interested. Billy, on the other hand, was chatting up some girl from your math class. You didn’t remember her name, but you most certainly remembered the way she talked to Billy.

She gave a fake laugh, making sure to lean forward and give him a decent view of her cleavage. Not that you blamed her for trying to sleep with your boyfriend. Billy was pretty, and it’s not like she knew he had a boyfriend. So no, you didn’t hold any resentment toward the girl.

Billy, on the other hand, was in a world of hurt.

He had every chance to turn her down. Every chance to make up some half-assed excuse or just plain tell her he wasn’t into it. But no. He joked and gave her some cheesy pick-up line. The brat even had the nerve to look your way while he was doing so, giving you a wink.

You watched for a minute longer, waiting for him to make some excuse to leave. But when it was obvious he had no plans of doing so, you decided to step in for him.

“C’mon Hargrove, you’re my ride home.” Luckily your head was clear enough to make walking out easy.

Billy frowned, trying to look as disappointed as possible. “Already? But I was having fun!” The girl next to him looked sad as well, as if begging you to let him stay longer.

“Sorry, I gotta get up early tomorrow,” You said, shrugging. Tomorrow was Saturday, neither you nor Billy had anything to do. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Fine, buzzkill.”

Billy, tap dancing on your last nerve, gave the girl a wink, causing her to let out an airy giggle. You rolled your eyes, stomping out of the house. You could hear Billy mumble what was most certainly a sarcastic comment under his breath.

You sat in the passenger seat the second he opened the door, waiting as he slid into the driver’s seat a second later.

After a second of him realizing you weren’t going to speak, he started driving, the music from the party fading into the background as he did so.

“Your mom and that bastard home?” You knew the answer was no. He’d made quite a big deal about getting the house to himself while Neil dragged his step-mom and Max on a ‘family outing’. Even with Max asking, Billy was left home alone.

“No, why?” He asked, glancing over to you before his eyes returned to the road. He was perfectly aware of ‘why’, you knew that much.

“Gonna let me stay over, pretty boy?” You asked, your tone low. He nodded, quickly taking a turn to head toward his house.

The trip was short and Billy got out of the car almost immediately after you arrived. You chuckled at how eager he was, fumbling with his keys in an attempt to get in quicker.

You followed closely, heading to Billy’s room without much hesitation.

The second you got in, you closed the door, pressing Billy up against a wall.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve, Hargrove,” you spoke quietly and quickly, though you knew he heard you from how he shivered. “You tryna get my attention, or just tryna whore around with some poor girl, hm?”

He shook his head rapidly, gulping down a breath.

Billy tried his hand at being a brat often. Always teasing you, getting your attention in public. But the second you were behind closed doors, he practically melted.

“Words, baby boy.”

“No, Daddy.”

God he knew what buttons to press.

“Then why were you flirting?” You spoke softly, loving how his eyes glazed over with lust when you did so. “Giving her hope for no reason. That just seems mean, baby.”

He made a noise of disagreement, shaking his head again. “Didn’t mean to, just wanted your attention.”

You chuckled. “No, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you slammed your lips into his before he could. You took over the kiss quickly. His arms twined around your neck, one of yours on his hip and the other gripping his hair. You gave a soft tug to his hair, forcing a loud moan out of his throat.

You slotted one thigh between his legs, giving him the chance to messily rut against you. Both your pants were tight, his jeans no doubt uncomfortable at this point.

“Pleeease just fuck me.” He was practically begging, arms tightening around you. “Please, I’m sorry for flirting with her, I won’t do it again.”

You both knew damn well he’d do it again.

“I don’t think I feel like forgiving you yet, baby.” He huffed at your words, hips still moving against your clothed thigh.

“How about this,” You suggested. You placed your hands on his shoulders, lowering him to his knees and placing your boot between his legs. “You cum in under two minutes, and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember your damn name.”

He nodded rapidly, head collapsing into your leg.

He moved his hands towards his jeans, only stopping when you firmly questioned what he was doing.

"I can't use my hands?" He asked, looking slightly hopeful. As if he'd get off that easy.

“If you really want me to fuck you, you can cum like this.”

He paused for a moment. “Like ‘this’?”

You smirked, tilting his head up slightly with one finger. “You think you can cum in your jeans for me?”

He shivered, nodding fervently.

"Good boy."

He started off slow, moving his hips against the firm leather of your boot. It was just enough stimulation for his sensitive cock. He was burying his face into your jeans, mouthing at your dick over the fabric. You just let him, watching as he desperately tried to get you to force your cock down his throat.

"One minute left." He whimpered.

His thrusts sped up, messily humping your boot in an attempt to get off. Barely decipherable mumbles of "please" "Daddy" and "more" tumbled out his lips, the words jumbled together and high pitched.

"You gonna cum, whore?" You asked, spitting out the term as if it was his name. He moaned, nodding.

"Please can I? Please Daddy? Wanna cum for you so you'll fuck me, please?"

You'd barely said yes before he buried his face into your thigh, hips stuttering and slowing. Cum slowly seeped through the fabric of his boxers, and suddenly he was thankful you'd waited until he was home to ruin him.

"Good job handsome," you said, leaving down and placing a surprisingly soft kiss on his forehead. "You get your reward now."

He was practically buzzing already.

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!

______________________________________________________________

It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.

After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.

“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.

“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”

You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.

“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.

A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.

“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.

You instantly feel relieved. 

“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”

“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”

“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.

Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making your skin prickle. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park. 

“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”

His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."

“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.

“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.

“Good.” 

When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back. 

Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.

You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.

"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” 

His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne. 

The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red. 

"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.

Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”

You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.

“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.

Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”

“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.” 

He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from. 

You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.

“Those guys?”

“Yes.” 

Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”

You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."

“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.” 

You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…” 

“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. 

You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?” 

Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.

“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”  

You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.  

“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?” 

Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California. 

‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.

"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. “Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”

“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.

“Shit. That sucks.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Do you still have your record player?”

“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”

As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.

“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home. 

Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart." 

His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.

“But why?” 

“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver. 

“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively. 

“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently. 

There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.

“Guess so,” he mutters. 

For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent? 

Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”

He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.

“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"

Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you. 

“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.” 

The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.

“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul. 

Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."

You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard. 

“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur. 

“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?” 

“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”

“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”

Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”

“Yeah.”

Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.

“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.  

“I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”

The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.

“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you. 

Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.

“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”

Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.

“Wanna give it a shot?” 

You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up. 

“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”

You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”

He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”

His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”

You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.

“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face. 

“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”

Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”

You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.

“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”

A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”

“So nada, huh?”

One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.

“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.” 

You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.

You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.

“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”

Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.” 

You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.

[decaying-church]

Slasher with a s/o that likes to nap

Slashers x male reader

(a/n: Taking a mini break from smut and by that I mean I'll probably be writing it again in like 3 days.)

Warning: Billy Lenz being horny.

Characters (in order of appearance): Stu Macher, Brahms Heelshire, Billy Lenz, Vincent Sinclair, Billy Loomis, Michael Myers, Herbert West.

Stu Macher is also a napper. Maybe not to the extent that you are but honestly he's getting pretty close. He likes to hang out in your room while you nap, looking through all of your trinkets and shit, he’ll wake you up if he finds something particularly interesting or confusing, or if he gets bored enough.

You have a very strict schedule, pre-dewalling, you didn't have much time for naps. But when you did, Brahms would sit and watch you through little holes in the wall, maybe even dozing off for a bit with you. After he's come out, he’ll cuddle up with you, whether he's actually sleeping or not is a mystery but you don't mind the company. In a way, to him, it feels like a good deviation from the schedule he's stuck to for his entire life.

No, Billy will never let you sleep. Horny bastard. He will lay behind you and for a split second you think he's decided to have a peaceful afternoon nap but then he starts rutting against you and you realize that no, he's just horny again. (I mean if you don't mind just let him go to town and then convince him in his satisfied haze to take a nap but that's up to you).

Vincent is also a nap taker. Look at him and tell me he doesn't take a good nap. Plus his sleep schedule is so far outta wack he’d really appreciate it if you sometime would ask him to join you for a nap. If he comes home and you're already asleep he's definitely joining you. If he wakes up before you or isn't tired he'll sit with you, draw or make tiny wax figures, all in your general vicinity so he can still be with you without waking you up.

Billy is a bitch, truly and honestly. He will not let you rest, he will sneak into your room and intentionally slam the door or window he came through, or stomp around your room or “accidentally” drop something heavy on the floor until you wake up. He a dick, we know this. But if he decides he wants to nap with you he has to havd absolute silence.

Michael Myers should definitely take more naps, but as he is not it's not going to happen. He will watch you nap though, usually from the doorway or the corner of your room. If he's feeling particularly clingy that day he’ll sit next to you, maybe he'll talk to you a bit, his voice quieter than normal, telling you about his day, or anything interesting he'd found about his victims, really just letting himself ramble while you slept.

Don't fall asleep in his lab he will take blood samples from you. He’ll call Dan to come and get you but the moment Dan tries to pick/wake you up he tells him to leave. You have woken up to random body parts, both human and animal, just sitting in a tray next to you (you're in his space but he doesn't want you to leave but he still needs his space). He might, might nap with you on occasion, but neither of you must ever speak of it afterwards.

Reblogs>likes

[freak-accident419]

depollute me, gentle angel

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: It’s been days ever since the incident at Paradise Pumps. Days ever since Melinda. Days ever since Billy ran into your arms immediately after coming back home. They say time heals all wounds. But they’re never really truly gone.

Requested by: @roarsaurus

Word Count: 2.7k

Content: TW: implication of past SA, Billy gets triggered, fluff, angst, cuddling, affirmations, “passenger princess” used in a gender-neutral way, kissing, attempted/interrupted sex

(A/n: I tried my absolute best to approach this topic delicately with respect and sensitivity. My intention is not to romanticize or glamorize this topic, or offend or disrespect anybody, but to tell a story.)

“(Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream)

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I’ll feel the sickness less and less”

-

The soft, amber glow of the morning sun had leaked through the blinds warmly, the parallel arrangement of light gently soaking into the blanket that was covering you and Billy. Your eyes gradually fluttered open as you awoke in the early morning, your vision finally focusing to see the love of your life in front of you.

He looked so beautiful. Gorgeously peaceful as he slept. He deserved it, after all. You heard his soft, quiet breaths and just laid there, admiring him. But then he started to stir into his sleep, beginning to wake up alongside you.

As his eyes opened, a smile was immediately formed through the precious curl of his lips. He was so, so beautiful. His gentle brown eyes bored into yours so very lovingly, and that smile only proved his deep, smitten love for you further.

He inhales softly, eyes closing once more as he was still seemingly tired, yet he let one of his hands grasp onto yours, holding it tenderly. “Good morning,” Billy mumbles sleepily as he rubbed across your fingers with his thumb in a soothing back and forth motion.

“Morning,” you reply in a soft, silent tone that mirrored his. You felt warm just from his touch and the calming, delicate atmosphere that embraced you.

His eyes slowly opened once again, finally becoming completely aware in your presence, as another wide smile appeared on his lips from the mere second he laid his eyes upon your face. A soft, low chuckle escaped his mouth, under his breath. “Sleep well?” He asked sweetly, examining your expression.

“Mm-hm,” you hum soothingly, ultimately comforting him with your lulling voice.

“That’s good,” he replies quietly with contentment. You could still tell that he was fairly drowsy through his tired voice, trying to wake up, but it only made you admire this moment even more.

“What about you?” You question, raising an eyebrow. As Billy thought of his answer, he brought your hand to his lips and planted gentle, soft kisses on it, kissing the back of your hand, each finger, your palm, and your wrist.

“Good,” he answers, holding your hand close to himself.

“You awake yet?” You chuckle softly, which emitted a snicker from him as well.

Billy closes his eyes to yawn, and they continued to stay closed as a giddy smile was plastered on his face. “Yeah, I’m getting there,” he mutters, gripping onto your hand tighter, then pressing another kiss onto the back of it.

“You sure?” You ask gently, looking down at his closed eyelids and dreamy grin. “Doesn’t look like it. You could always go back to sleep.”

“Mmm,” he hums lowly, eyes still shut as he rubbed the skin of your hand with his thumb. “Nah, don’t worry. I’m getting up.”

His eyes fluttered open for the second time and the two of you just gazed at each other. Billy was so fascinatingly beautiful. Seeing him up close, seeing the whirlpool of burnt umber in his eyes, seeing his pupils patiently dilate, seeing the very faint stubble on his face, and seeing the subdued freckles across his nose… it amazed you. He was so achingly gorgeous.

You moved your head towards him and kissed the soft smile on his lips, delicately bringing your hand to the back of his neck, making it’s way up to the healed burns on the side of his face, and cupped his jaw. Once your lips pulled away from his, you giggled sweetly, looking at him closely.

“Hey,” you whisper quietly, your hand still cupping his face while his hand lightly held onto your wrist. “I love you, Billy.”

He looks at you with utter infatuation. He could never get over hearing you say that to him. “I love you too.”

You pecked his lips after, before shifting your position on the mattress, sitting up against the bed frame, and looked down at him. Billy yawns again, until he finally got up to sit beside you.

“You finally awake?” You ask, smirking lightly at him.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding.

The faint sun rays through the window, peeking through the blinds, were now burning against the two of you with its parallel lines. The light on Billy’s eyes revealed the warm, lighter shade of hazel, which you adored intensely.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You inquire, lightly biting your pinky nail in thought. “We can go get breakfast at this diner… I saw it when we were driving here, we could stop there before we hit the road again.”

Ever since the incident, you two had made it your goal to drive from upstate New York to Wyoming. It brought several restless nights, motel stays, and even shoplifting to your daily routine.

In the first week he came back to you from his attempted gas station robbery, Billy was slightly distant. He didn’t tell you much about what had happened. But by the second week, he finally opened up to you. Your heart nearly shattered as you found out what happened to him. A part of you wished that he took you with him, but he insisted at the time, saying how dangerous it would be—especially if he encountered the biker gang. Yet a part of you also believed that you should’ve came with him anyway, that you failed him because of it, that you couldn’t keep him safe in that moment. But right now, all you could think of was how grateful you were for Billy being safe and alive, coming back to you, his home.

He pursed his lips, briefly thinking of your proposal. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that,” he smiles softly at you. In the first week he came back, he also barely ever smiled or laughed. So seeing him genuinely smile meant a lot to you.

“Yeah?” You chuckle, a grin creeping on the corner of your lips.

“Yeah.”

Billy stares at you for a while, essentially gazing at your face. He was mesmerized by your eyes, getting lost into them until he noticed every detail, every eyelash. He watched you blink softly, as your eyelashes fluttered and brushed against your skin. The longer he looked at you, the warmer he felt inside. Like he was safe. You noticed his prolonged staring, and laughed softly to yourself. “What? What is it? Do I—Do I have something on my face?”

Billy only grins warmly at your words, chuckling softly under his breath. “No, uh… You’re just…” He shakes his head. “You are so beautiful, Y/n.”

And in this moment, you could barely form your appreciation in words, so instead, your lips pressed onto his, kissing him deeply and expressing your love for him. “You’re adorable,” you snicker lowly after a scoff.

The kiss progresses, and Billy’s hand cupped the back of your neck, bringing his lips to your throat, kissing the skin all around it. You giggle from the ticklish sensations and moved your head up to give him more access as he kissed and sucked at your neck. You bit your lip and let out a small hum as he nibbled, sucking longer on some areas.

“Oh, you’re definitely awake now,” you chuckle, letting a hand reach the back of his head to rub his hair.

“Thought I already told you,” he mumbled before crashing his lips onto yours once again, letting his tongue run against your bottom lip before parting them. He tasted sweet against your tongue, making you feel giddy inside.

“Yeah, but you always say that and then fall back asleep,” you retort playfully in between soft kisses. He pulls his lips away from yours and lets his hands rub your waist under your shirt before pulling it off of you. You realized that this was the first time he initiated anything in this sense ever since the gas station. He was making progress, you noted, and ultimately, you were so proud of him.

“Yeah, well,” he snickers, pressing his lips to yours once more, “you try driving from New York to Wyoming.”

Your kisses against his lips came to a halt as you slapped his shoulder playfully. “Hey, I drive too!”

“Only sometimes,” he remarks, pulling his own shirt off then chasing your lips for another kiss. “You’re literally a passenger princess, baby.”

“So what if I am?” You retort with a wide, amused grin.

The two of you make out on the bed, feeling his hands run up and down the bare skin of your waist, fingers teasing the waistband of your pants. Kissing him softly, your hand reaches down to his waist, then further down, tugging on his pants and—

“Wait,” he whimpers.

Billy was very stiff, and his hand was instantly grasped onto your wrist, stopping you from pulling his pants down. Your face backs up away from his to look at him and observe his actions. His head was looking down shamefully, and you immediately pulled your hand away from his pants. Terrible flashbacks invaded his mind for a split, horrifying second: darkness, restraint, and fear. His feelings of being used, being exposed, his devastating helplessness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t, I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you stutter out, cupping his face gently. “Hey… It’s okay.”

“No… No, it’s not, I—I really thought I was ready, but… but then I felt you tug on my pants, and all I could think about was….” He trailed off lamentably, and you saw the sheer pain in his glassy eyes and through his frown.

“Hey, no, if anyone’s sorry, it should be me, Billy, okay?” Your brought his face closer up to yours with your hands.

“I really wanted to try. For you…. a-and for me. I really thought I was ready this time, b-but—”

“Hey,” you say softly, yet loudly, instantly grounding him. “You at least tried, and you’ve made so much progress, and I am so proud of you, Billy.” You find his shirt that was on the mattress and put it back on him, doing the same with your own clothes afterwards. “It’s okay. We can just lay here, alright?” He nods quietly. “Is it okay if I touch you here?” You gestured to his arms and shoulders. He nodded, humming a yes. But that wasn’t enough for you. “Words, please, honey.”

“Yes,” he replies in a murmur, which granted you to pull him against you in a hug, cradling his head. Billy sniffles and hearing that broke your heart. “I actually thought I was ready.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, okay? You don’t have to be ready immediately, you can take your time. It’s alright, it’s okay,” you console swiftly, rubbing his hair gently. “We don’t have to do anything.”

The room was completely silent, except for Billy’s faint sniffles, contrasting from the moments of before. “I… I just… I don’t know.”

You frown, beginning to caress his hair with your fingers. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whisper urgently. It was important for him to know that, to believe it. “Nothing was and it never will be. You didn’t do anything wrong. You shouldn’t be sorry for anything.”

He stays quiet for a while. He felt so small in your arms.

“You’re safe now, okay? You’re here with me. I would never do anything you didn’t want, okay? Whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait for you,” you reassure him, letting his soft, brown strands tickle your fingertips.

“I feel like I’m always gonna be like this, react like this,” he mutters painfully. “I feel like I’m broken.”

“No, Billy, you’re not—”

“I am,” his voice cracks, and you only cradle his head closer in your neck. He felt like there was something wrong with him ever since. He couldn’t do this for you and he felt horrible. “Things are just never going to be like they were before, back to normal, and-and we-we can’t—”

“You’re still you,” you cooed softly, stroking his hair gently as his head rested on your chest. “Anyone who would have experienced what you experienced would feel the same way. Scared… hurt… Hey. I love you, okay? You’re safe, you’re safe now. Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

“I… I can’t be what you need. I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey, no… no…” You continued to caress his hairline, watching his eyes stare into oblivion. “You deserve me as much as I deserve you, okay? Only you are what I need. Nothing else from you, just you. I’ll love you for anything you are. I’ll always be patient with you. Sex barely defines our love. I’ll wait for you, I’ll be here. Whatever you need, tell me. I’m here for you, I’m always here for you.”

Billy sighs softly. “Please, just… just don’t leave me,” he whimpers desperately.

“Never,” you immediately reply. “I’ll be beside you the whole time, okay? We’ll get through this together, my love.”

He nods silently in response.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you repeated in a whisper.

He pauses for a while. “I know.”

But did he?

You continued stroking his head, whispering affirmations and words of reassurance. His eyes were closed and he indulged in your sweet touch. He had felt so polluted, but your soft caress and affectionate mutters made him feel clean. He felt so sick the more he thought of the incident at Paradise Pumps, but your presence calmed him down like a remedy. You were there to support him. And of course your goal wasn’t to “fix” him—after all, he wasn’t ever broken to begin with. As you said, he was still him. And what happened to him, shouldn’t have happened to him.

You thought you should distract him from any more memories he’s had, so you kiss his forehead lightly and spoke to him serenely. “You know, the diner I mentioned? I saw, like, a pretty big sign advertising, like, blueberry pancakes.”

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles softly.

“Yeah. Your favorite,” you hum. “How about… I drive us there as soon as we’re fully up… and you can get those ‘deluxe’ pancakes. I know we have to save money and we said before that we shouldn’t spend too much on leisure, but… it’s my treat for you, alright? We can always, like, pickpocket shitty rich guys. Sound good, love?”

The way you talked to him had warmed his heart. He felt so comfortable, so safe. He knew you’d never hurt him, never terrify him. And not only that, but he felt loved. So loved, like never before. Your efforts to distract him from his pain with tranquility had subsequently calmed him down.

“That’d be amazing, angel,” he says with a clearer voice this time, head proceeding to lay on your chest. “Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. I love you so much, okay? And maybe you can be the passenger princess for today, yeah?” You offer, moving your hand to rub his cheek softly with your thumb, feeling his warm skin against it.

“Oh, god, you’re gonna kill us both if you drive on the freeway,” he jokes with a tired chuckle, making you smile to yourself. You were glad to hear him joke after this, glad to hear him laugh.

“Hey, that’s why I don’t drive us often, so don’t complain about me being the passenger princess all the time,” you retort playfully, yet kissing the top of his head twice.

“Whatever,” he mumbles sweetly. His head was laid onto your chest and he could hear the steady, constant heartbeats that belonged to you. It comforted him. Your existence, your aliveness, your presence. The fact that you were there with him, that he was with you, reminded him that he was going to be okay, as long as you were there with him.

He loved listening to the sound of your heartbeat; trying to sync his own breaths and pulse with yours as he laid on you gently. The sun was brighter through the blinds, a soft yellow-orange now occupying the warm motel room.

“I love you so much,” he finally says, realizing that he forgot to say it back from all the previous banter. You affectionately kiss the top of his head again in response.

Billy didn’t want to think about anything more. He just wanted to be held, to feel loved, and you granted him that. He wanted to feel everything, to hear everything in this moment. Your delicate fingertips against his head and face, caressing him gently as he hears your soft breaths and whispers of affection. And so, all of this confirmed one thing: it was going to be okay.

He was going to be okay.

-

April is S.A. Awareness and Prevention month: please don’t be afraid to ask for help.

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Resources

If anybody needs to hear this: It wasn’t your fault.

[klausysworld]

Could you do a one shot based on bored from billie eilish, where Y/n leaves Klaus in the end and he realizes the mistakes he made, leaving and cheating on her

Never Enough

Ah

Ah

The games you played were never fun (mm)

You'd say you'd stay but then you'd run (ah)

———————————————————————

Klaus Mikaelson isn’t an easy man to love.

He pushes me away at every chance he gets.

But as soon as I would leave him be then he was back at my door, chasing my attention.

It took far too long to get used to his games. That’s all love is to him, a game. Feelings are toys and so are people, entertainment for him to thrive upon.

And even after I had realised it, I couldn’t stop myself from loving him.

So, somehow every empty promise he gave me, I believed him. Or maybe I just wanted to believe him and that was enough.

But it got to the point where it was just too much to bypass.

———————————————————————

Givin' you what you're beggin' for

Givin' you what you say I need

I don't want any settled scores

I just want you to set me free

Givin' you what you're beggin' for

Givin' you what you say I need

Say I need

———————————————————————

And yet, even when I knew he had been with another women, when he had treated me as though I were nothing but an object for his pleasure, I found myself apologising to him.

“You know that I love you, I’ve always been there for you. I would never do this to you” I yelled but he only looked angrier

“You love me? You barely look at me! We don’t talk, we don’t touch! We have nothing worth my time!” He bellowed

“I try to” I whispered and he sighed, his hands running down his face

“You have it in your head that I’m doing all of these things, I have been here every step of the way through your incisive whining! You’re sensitivity and your insecurities! I have been right here but I am tired of picking you up, it’s pathetic, it’s boring.” He shouted, his finger pointing at me as he took menacing steps toward me and I followed suit and rushed backwards. His hand came down harshly beside my head against the wall making my body flinch away from the loud noise of impact. I anxiously looked up to him and nodded

“I’m sorry” I whispered “I’ll be better” But he only shook his head, his hand grabbed my jaw forcing me to keep my eyes on his

“There’s no point in this anymore, you don’t want it” he mumbled

“Of course I want this, I love you. Klaus please don’t leave me, not again, please. Please Klaus it’s cruel to do this, just tell me what you want me to do. You know I’d do anything for you” I pleaded, tears running down my face as I held the wrist of the hand on my face.

“Anything?” He questioned

“Anything at all”

———————————————————————

I'm not afraid anymore

What makes you sure you're all I need?

Forget about it

When you walk out the door and leave me torn

You're teachin' me to live without it

———————————————————————

And I truly did everything I could to have him love me even the slightest bit. For him to want me even if it was just for my body. Because I loved him so ridiculously much that it didn’t matter to me if I was just a toy to him, I’d rather it be him than anybody else.

And after a while, the fear was gone.

The screaming matches were just part of the game.

I could hold up my own and fight back at him, rile him up and push him over the edge.

The only thing that still hurt was when he left.

The echo of the door slamming shut rings through my head all of the time.

My knees gave out the second the door closed. I collapsed down to the floor, tears flowing down to the ground despite no sound leaving my lips. My nails pierced through the skin of my arms as I held onto myself. I hated everything about this. It always ended like this, I always ended up just that much more pathetic.

I hated the shell of who I was. Who I am now.

———————————————————————

Bored

I'm so bored

I'm so bored

So bored

———————————————————————

Sitting at him waiting for him for hours was just torture. I knew exactly where he was.

Who’s body his hands were all over.

Who’s mouth was on his.

Who’s bed he was breaking.

But I remained in his bed, waiting for him. Whether it was for him to yell at me and throw things or to just lay beside me and slowly, reluctantly put an arm around me.

He didn’t want anything to do with me anymore but I couldn’t find it within me to let him go.

———————————————————————

I'm home alone, you're God-knows-where (mm)

I hope you don't think that shit's fair (ah)

———————————————————————

“Fair!? You want to talk about what’s fair Klaus? It is not fair that you get to go and fuck whoever you want and then come back and torture me for breathing the wrong fucking air!” I screamed

“If you knew what I was doing then why the hell are you still here? Get out! I don’t want you anymore!”

———————————————————————

Givin' you all you want and more

Givin' you every piece of me

I don't want love I can't afford

I just want you to love for free

Can't you see that I'm gettin' bored?

Givin' you every piece of me

Piece of me

———————————————————————

But once again when I left like he said, well there he was back in my room of my new apartment.

“Shh love, you know neither of us meant that. You know that I love you and I know you love me too.” He murmured while wrapping both arms around me, his chin on too my head.

“I have nothing left to give you” I whispered looking into his chest. “You shouldn’t have come back” I mumbled “please leave”

“We’re destined to be together. You’re all I need, you just have to give me your love, it’s all I could ever want” he countered

“Then why wasn’t I ever enough?” I questioned sadly

“You’ve never truly allowed me to own your heart, I needed it”

“And sleeping with other girls gave you that?” I laughed breathlessly and pressed my forehead to his shoulder

“They made it easier to push you away. But I know that you’re what I truly desire, you’re exactly what I need. I want to marry you.”

“Please don’t lie to me”

“Why would I lie? What do I have to loose?” He asked. I shut my eyes in mental turmoil, was he saying he was nothing without me or that I was nothing?

I think I knew it was the latter but ai just refused to let it be true in my mind.

———————————————————————

I'm not afraid anymore

What makes you sure you're all I need?

Forget about it

When you walk out the door and leave me torn

You're teachin' me to live without it

———————————————————————

It didn’t even hurt when I saw him in our bed with another random blonde.

His head turned to me with that stupid expression on his face before he hurried to follow me down the stairs

“Love!” He called as I reached the front door “y/n, sweetheart, please” he murmured grabbing my shoulder so I would face him. “Forgive me my love, I-“

“It’s fine Klaus” I muttered tiredly and he frowned

“What?” He whispered confusion evident on his face as he took a step closer, only boxers on his body and he was clearly still hard, apparently his blondes weren’t as fulfilling as he had hoped.

“I don’t care anymore Klaus, really it’s fine. Just do whatever you want but for the love of God please just don’t do if in the bed I sleep beside you in” I sighed and he grabbed my hand

“You aren’t upset? Or mad? You aren’t yelling…” he listed with a ludicrous look on his face

“You need to wash your hands” I mumbled with a grimace and he quickly retracted them

“You should be shouting at me” he told me and my brows furrowed

“You want me to yell at you?”

“Don’t you care?”

“Not anymore”

———————————————————————

Bored

I'm so bored

I'm so bored

So bored

———————————————————————

Klaus wasn’t expecting her to sound so tired. So done with everything.

He didn’t really believe she would leave properly.

But when he received a letter in the mail the next day requesting he leave he be, he knew he’d finally pushed her over the edge.

The sick truth was that Klaus enjoyed taking her live and destroying it. He enjoyed hurting her in a way that only he would be able to. He was a sadistic being who after years on being labelled a monster, finally embraced it.

———————————————————————

Givin' you what you're beggin' for

Givin' you what you say I need

I don't want any settled scores

I just want you to set me free

Givin' you what you're beggin' for

Givin' you what you say I need

Say I need

———————————————————————

But sat alone in his room, nobody to hold when he felt empty, he realised she was actually an important person in his life.

Despite all the girls he had, none of them seemed to give him anything.

As much as he craved emotionless sex, he found that when the women also had no care towards him, it wasn’t what he wanted.

Y/n looked at him like he was everything she had ever wanted. She touched him like he were the most desirable thing on the planet. Her hands were soft and she wanted to please him, she always made it about him, she told him how good he made her feel and how much she loved him.

He missed how she would sit with him in his art room with her crisps and soda while comments on the colours he chose and complimented his composition choices.

He missed her annoying laugh and sleepy smile.

He missed the state of her hair when she first woke up, the way she would struggle against him and refuse his kisses because she had ‘morning breath’.

He missed her cooking and baking, the way she made his coffee and the shitty shows she had him watch.

He missed their arguments, he missed her tears. He missed how she would fall back into his arms and prove to him that her love for him was true.

He missed her.

———————————————————————

I'm not afraid anymore

What makes you sure you're all I need?

Forget about it

And when you walk out the door and leave me torn

You're teachin' me to live without it

———————————————————————

Calling her phone got him nowhere, his voicemails were never answered.

His witches couldn’t locate her.

All he had left of her was the memory of the empty look in her eyes as she left him.

The clothes in his drawer that she didn’t grab when she rushed away.

The clothes he held to his face each night to help him fall asleep.

The pillow he hugged to his chest to remind him of her.

But it wasn’t her.

He would never have her again.

———————————————————————

[blue-blue-blooms]

When Love Isn't Enough

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

1.6k words

Summary: Steve can feel you pulling away. You haven't been yourself in a while, becoming more and more withdrawn. It doesn't help that there's an evil wizard on the loose and you meet the checklist for the perfect prey.

Warnings: Some angst. Talks of depression, loneliness, and suicidal ideation.

"Y/N hasn't been herself lately. And, I don't know, she's been pulling away recently. Not physically. More, like, she's there but she isn't. She's in the room with me and she's pretending to listen, but I can tell she's thinking about something else. And it isn't like she's bored or, like, daydreaming, she just seems...distant. She keeps saying she's fine, but I know that she's not. I mean, she thinks I haven't noticed, but she doesn't eat much anymore. She barely sleeps and she claims it's because of school, or work, or whatever excuse she has...Robin, are you listening to me?" Steve rambles, one hand on the steering wheel and the other running through his hair in frustration, as he drives Robin to the pep rally. 

"Yes, yes, I'm listening!" Robin exclaims, desperately trying to keep her hand steady as she applies her mascara. 

"Really? What'd I just say then?" Steve asks.

"Something about how obsessed you are with Y/N and the smell of her hair," Robin guesses, immediately backtracking as she sees the look on Steve's face, "I'm sorry! But there's always so much going on in your love life. I can't fully grasp the labyrinthine complexity that is your and Y/N's relationship!"

"It's not that complex, I'm worried about her!" Steve says, "Like just today, she calls me and says not to drive her and Dustin to school because they're biking. She doesn't even own a bike!"

Robin stops applying her makeup for a second and looks over. Realizing the severity of Steve's emotions, she lets out a little sigh and gives him a gentle nudge with her hand. 

"I'm worried about her, too" She confesses, "I don't think she's mentioned this to anyone so please don't bring it up with her, but her grades have been slipping. A lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and I've seen her at the counsellor’s office" Robin admits.

"Ms. Kelley?"

Robin nods. 

"Well...Why didn't she say anything to me?" Steve asks, his face falling as he tries to come up with reasons as to why you aren't opening up. 

"I...I don't know. She hasn't been speaking to me, either. We sit together during lunch, but she barely talks to me. I just talk at her, and she just sits in silence," Robin replies, "Have you tried bringing this up with her?"

Steve pauses for a bit then says, "No...I didn't wanna push her. It just feels like...like she's teetering on the edge these days, and if I say the wrong thing, she'll run."

♡♡♡

Most days start like this: you wake up gasping for breath, one hand on your chest and the other stifling your sobs. Another nightmare. Sometimes it's about the Russians, sometimes it's about finding a Demogorgon eating your cat, sometimes it's about Billy and the Mind Flayer, sometimes it's about losing Hopper, but every time it hurts just as bad. You wish you hadn't gone to Mike Wheeler's that day to check up on Dustin. You wish you hadn't found out about Eleven or the lab or the Upside Down. But everything in your life is so deeply intertwined that you would have found out one way or another. It's beyond you how everyone else in Hawkins has remained so oblivious. 

Even though you wish you could rewind and take back every moment that led you to where you are now, you know in your heart that you wouldn't. If it wasn't for all the shit you had to go through, you wouldn't have the people you have now. You wouldn't have ever befriended Nancy Wheeler. You would've never met Robin Buckley. You and Dustin would never have grown as close as you are now. You wouldn't have the golden-dusted, happy memories that you made last summer with Max and El. You never would've learned how to play DnD with Will. And you never would have fallen in love. 

You never saw Steve coming. Well, you did see him coming that day when you and Dustin were at the Wheelers looking for everyone. He had roses in his hands, and he was mumbling to himself. For a second, you thought he'd caved into the insanity of what he'd gone through and lost his mind. 

"Are you talking to yourself?" you'd asked loudly, making him quickly turn around, "Do you need help?"

"What? No! I was just-" he'd stuttered, "What're you two doing here? Actually, who are you?" The last question was directed at you. 

"Who am I? The bitch that sat behind you in English for two years. I've been lending you pencils for months. Are you serious-" you'd snapped at him, a little offended at him for not recognizing you. 

"We don't have time for this!" Dustin yelled, interrupting you, as he took your hand and dragged you to Steve's car. 

You always laugh a little when you remember that particular memory. It wasn't the first time you two had met (maybe for Steve) but it was the first time you'd both become aware of each other. And it was like something had clicked into place because now that you both knew each other, you couldn't drift away. Suddenly Steve was everywhere. The summer after El's bitchin new makeover and the whole debacle that was closing the gate to the Upside Down, you and Steve spent every day together. He'd started working at Starcourt and you worked at the Kiosk across from him, which meant you saw each othera lot. Soon, those days of eating free ice cream in the back turned into shy glances, nervous laughter, and stolen kisses. You were his and he was yours. It was almost perfect. Almost. 

Because even with all this love, joy, and friendship, you can't forget that you're rotten to your core. That there is something deeply wrong with you, something gory and disgusting that's been eating you alive. You don't know how to tell Steve that he doesn't know. If he knew you, he'd leave you. You're so broken inside that it's almost comical. Every day starts and ends with a nightmare. Then the headaches. Sometimes the nosebleeds. Always the loud voices in your head reaffirming the beliefs you have of yourself. You're not good enough. Never have been. You're a fraud. Always have been. You don't know what's worse, when you can't breathe or when there's too much oxygen. 

You call Steve and tell him you don't need a ride. Then you make Dustin bike to school, and you wait for your mother to leave for work before climbing back into bed. These days, it was getting harder and harder to do the mundane, everyday tasks. You couldn't get out of bed. You couldn't take a shower. Everything required willpower that you just didn't have.

God, I'm so pathetic. 

You've nearly fallen back asleep when you hear a knock on your door. You ignore it, hoping whoever it is goes away. The knocking continues, growing louder and louder. You let out a curse and hop out of your bed, begrudgingly going to the front door. You open the door and find Steve standing outside. 

"I knew it!" He exclaims, "Why aren't you in school?"

You don't have the energy for this. You just want him to leave. 

"I'm sick," you lie, adding a half-assed cough, "You should be at work."

"If you were sick then why didn't you just say that when you called this morning?" Steve enquired, folding his arms across his chest, and raising an eyebrow. 

"I got sick after" you shrug, "How'd you know I wasn't in school."

"Dustin, he called about some DnD shit and mentioned you weren't in when I asked why you couldn't play," Steve explains, his eyes scanning your face, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you say.

"No, you're not" Steve replies, coming in through the door and making his way into your room. You silently follow and fall back into bed. 

"Baby, what's going on?" Steve asks softly, getting into bed behind you and laying down.

"Just a headache," you mumble, "I'm fine."

You feel him padding his fingers through your hair and you find yourself lulling back to sleep. But before you can, you hear him start to speak again.

"Not just today, Y/N. What's going on with you? You haven't been yourself lately."

You don't know how to answer this. How do you articulate the absolute mess that is your mind? How do you tell him that you feel like you're on the verge of going insane? How do you tell him that all you feel is agonizing despair and the only reason you're alive is because you're too much of a coward to die?

"I just...haven't been feeling well," you say, "Just haven't been doing so well."

"How can I help? Can I do anything?" Steve asks, holding you close as he brushes the hair out of your face and lays a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead.

"I don't think anyone can fix it," you reply, turning to face him.

The sun peeks through your blinds and you can just about make out his face in the dark. You lean over and softly kiss him. He's everything that you're not but you're too selfish to let go.

"I just wish you'd speak to me, tell me what's going on in your head. I just feel locked out, baby." Steve whispers.

The only response you can manage to give is a mumbled sorry. But there's so much more you'd like to say. Sorry that you're stuck with me, you deserve better. Sorry that I'm like this. Sorry that I'm this broken, this wretched. Sorry that I've fooled you into thinking I'm better than I am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

You close your eyes and lay your head on his chest. In the darkness of your room, you pray that this moment lasts forever. But as another nightmare sinks its claws into you, you're not sure if you'll make it out alive.

[magniloquent-raven]

I am once again plagued with thoughts that aren't 100% coherent so imma just ramble for a bit, pls gather 'round for some stuff about Billy and body image issues cuz I'm in my feels rn.

Billy spends a lot of time staring at Nancy.

Enough that Tommy's noticed and he starts ribbing him about it. "That's one thing of Steve's you might want to stay away from," bitter and pointed. Enough that Jonathan Byers gives him the stink eye whenever he's within glaring distance. Enough that a handful of the more desperate chicks still high off the fumes of his New Kid smell have started dressing like fucking librarians in hopes of catching his eye.

He doesn't give a shit about any of it, if anything the rumour mill is helping him out for once. Less work involved in keeping up appearances if everyone just assumes he isn't sleeping around because he's too busy sniffing Wheeler's granny panties.

As long as no one guesses the real reason, it's fine. It's fucking peachy. It's one silver lining in this shitstorm of a situation.

He's so tired of his eyes inevitably being drawn to her barely-there tits and tiny waist. Every time he's bored at lunch, his gaze wanders. When he's in the library pretending to study, there she fucking is, even smaller when she's hunched over a pile of cue cards.

The longer he looks at her the more sure he is that Steve will never really want him.

Steve's slept with plenty of girls. A variety of girls. He probably couldn't afford to be too picky in this shitty little town. But he's only fallen in love once. One time. The only time it mattered what he was sticking his dick in was when it was in Nancy Wheeler.

And Billy...will never be her. Not even close.

He'll only ever be a warm mouth and a convenient hand, he'll never matter.

She's flat, and thin. Willowy, narrow-shouldered. Petite. Inches shorter than him and nearly half as broad. Thin fingers and delicate wrists. She fit comfortably under Steve's arm, she could nestle safely into his side.

And it was all so fucking easy for her. She never had to try.

She never had to piss off her dad so she'd be forced to skip meals. She never did laps around her neighbourhood until she was lightheaded and doubled over, dry-heaving in someone's hedge. She was never forced to sign up for baseball as a child, poked and prodded and guilted into it because a couple shirts were starting to get tight across the stomach, and being a momma's boy was bad enough, being a fat, lazy piece of shit too was unacceptable.

He used to think he'd done well, maintaining the physique he has. He's worked hard for it. Scraping together his savings for a weight set and keeping careful track of his calorie intake and never skipping a single fucking day of exercise, hangovers and broken bones be damned. And it's fucking useful, truth be told. More than keeping away the echo of old insults bouncing around in his head, it's made flirting that much easier.

But the more he looks at Nancy Wheeler, the more he hates the things he can't change. It gets into his head. Digs in deep, leaving scars on its way down.

He thinks Steve might've noticed.

He knows Steve has heard the stupid rumours about Wheeler, and probably chalked it up to Billy being an asshole, as usual. But it's harder to explain away his sudden tendency to go extremely still whenever Steve puts his hands anywhere on his torso. A palm pressed to his chest, slipped under his shirt, or fingertips digging into his back, or a casual fucking pat on the shoulder—whatever it is, he can't help freezing up, if only for a second, a sick feeling twisting his stomach, cold and shameful and clawing at his lungs.

And then, eventually, they argue.

It's over nothing. And everything. Billy can't explain what his fucking damage is, and Steve can't stop needling in the wrong places. They scream at each other until their throats are raw and Billy leaves when his knuckles start to itch.

He cries all the way home and doesn't eat for four days. Not on purpose. Not consciously. He's just. Fucking. Busy. He's busy. He's always gotta drive Max somewhere or dodge Neil's thinly veiled threats or lock himself in his room when bile starts to bubble up in the back of his throat and his head pounds and he doesn't think about why he's snapping at everyone constantly, he just pounds back a couple beers and goes to sleep. And then it's four days later, and he's flying off the handle at Neil, too sluggish and lightheaded to see the hit coming, and...

Steve comes to see him at the hospital. He hasn't told anyone anything but they've got him hooked up to a banana bag and the nurses keep making sad eyes at him when they come to check his stitches.

He hates it, sitting around doing nothing, being closely monitored every fucking second, it make his skin crawl, and he hates it even more when Steve's standing in the doorway looking at him.

Not for the first time, he's overwhelmed wondering what exactly Steve sees.

He's a fucking mess right now. Greasy hair tangled at the back, bruises peeking out from under the collar of his gross papery hospital gown, one eye swollen shut and a dark tangle of thread holding his eyebrow together. It feels stupid to get stressed about all the shit that usually bothers him when there's so many other things to worry about, but he still finds himself shifting in place, hunching his shoulders, hiding his hands in the crooks of his elbows.

It's sort of a disaster. Worse than last time they saw each other. Billy's not in the mood for Steve's apologies and Steve's at a loss for what else to say.

They don't see each other again for months. Steve graduates. Billy avoids anywhere he thinks Steve might be, and lies awake at night haunted by stolen touches.

He catches a glimpse of Steve through the red haze of storm clouds and cold lightning, tears blurring his vision, the Mind Flayer wearing him like a suit. Their cars collide, and everything whites out for a second.

He's in the hospital again when they finally talk. Billy rolls his eyes at "We've gotta stop meeting like this," and tries not to think about last time he was here. Steve seems more than willing to ignore it. Move forward. Guess demonic possession puts some things into a different perspective.

When Billy's released from the hospital he's seventeen pounds heavier than he was a few months ago. Every time the nurses did their check-ups and put him on the scale they'd pat his elbow, smiling encouragingly, telling him how good he was doing while he watched his stomach get softer, his biceps get less defined, watched himself disappear beneath a layer of fat.

The first thing he does when he gets home is throw up.

He doesn't make it happen. It just happens. And he blames it on the meds they have him on. It's a plausible enough reason, and it means he doesn't have to interrogate the tiny spark of satisfaction he got from losing his lunch.

His second day back home Neil asks him when he's going to start exercising again. His expression is pinched. Cold. His eyes are ice chips freezing Billy's skin wherever they touch, lingering on the softness under his chin, and where the hem of his sleeve pinches his skin.

He pushes his dinner away and grits out an answer from between clenched teeth.

He doesn't need the reminder that he's gotten weak while he was trapped in a hospital bed, but Neil gives it to him anyways. Tells him all about everything he should do to get things back to normal. Push past the pain. Work harder. He tunes it out after a while, and watches grease congeal on his meatloaf.

Eddie Munson is the first person to bring up the things Billy's never known how to talk about.

They started hanging out after Billy's most recent brush with death. Billy's not sure exactly how the got here, from buying the occasional painkiller and letting the guy wax poetic about his dumb band, to spending weekends getting high together at the trailer park. But as weird things in his life go, it's barely worth questioning.

This particular conversation starts with Chrissy Cunningham.

Specifically, Eddie's massive boner for her.

Billy's been noticing it for a while. He hasn't been letting it bother him.

He hasn't.

Maybe he likes the way Eddie smiles at him when they pass a joint back and forth, lazily stretched out and wearing three less layers than usual, and maybe he thinks about closing the distance between them when Eddie offers to shotgun, but it doesn't fucking matter. Just like it doesn't matter that Steve hasn't touched him since before the Mind Flayer and things are fucking weird now that they're on speaking terms again. None of it matters, he's just a fucking idiot.

Because Steve and his new best friend Robin are attached at the hip lately and everyone can see where that's going, and Eddie won't stop talking about tiny, pretty, perfect fucking Chrissy and her stupid ponytail.

And Billy...Billy gets winded walking up the porch steps at his house now. And he pulled a muscle in his back trying to lift half the weight he used to press. And last week he burned three pairs of jeans in the backyard because he kept grabbing them out of his laundry pile, not realizing they don't fit anymore until he was struggling to pull them up past his knees.

He's lost the one thing people used to actually like about him. Never the people he wanted, he was never enough for that, but it was something. Now he's just...

Now he's just listening to a guy he likes talk about some goddamn cheerleader like she personally hung the moon just for him.

And he's drunk. They're both drunk. Eddie in a soppy, embarrassing way, with a sparkle in his eye and a flush on his cheeks, an arm across the back of the couch, outstretched far enough that the tips of his fingers almost brush Billy's shoulder.

He wants to move closer. Thinks about shuffling into Eddie's space, curling into the warmth at his side. But it twists in his guts, sours, sickens—he couldn't, he can't. And he hates himself for wanting to.

"What do you see in her?" spills out of his mouth, bitter on his tongue and sharpened by anger he has no right to feel.

She's pretty. He expects it. She's pretty, she's perfect. She's a fucking angel even though her and Eddie only know each other because she buys drugs off of him. But she can do no wrong because she looks like a little china doll with sad eyes and everyone would be devastated if a single hair on her tiny delicate head was harmed.

Eddie only looks thrown off for a second. A moment. But he shrugs it off, leans his head back against the couch cushions and grins at the ceiling. "She likes my music."

Since fucking when.

"So, what, it's just an ego stroking thing then."

"Nah, man. I mean. Like. She's got this whole good-girl thing going on, but you should see her when I pull out my guitar, it's fuckin'...magic. When she lets herself just. Live." He wiggles his fingers in the air, arms spread, then drops them back down.

Billy's heart clenches, squeezes. It hurts and he doesn't know why. "Bullshit."

"Nah, nah. Seriously. The guy she's dating is a fucking asshole. And her mom..." he trails off, and rubs his eye. "She's just got all this pressure to be perfect, act a certain way, look a certain way, be a certain way, and I hate seeing what it does to her, man. I hate it. No one should have to deal with all that. So. I dunno. I like helping her cut loose. Sorta, find herself, I guess." He cracks a crooked smile, casting a glance in Billy's direction.

And his smile drops.

"Billy?" He sits up, cautious, eyebrows up and his eyes wide.

Billy turns away, shocked into motion, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I'm fine. Fuck off."

He didn't notice he was crying until Eddie looked at him like he'd seen a ghost.

"Yeah, obviously."

"Fuck you."

Eddie doesn't get much more out of him that night. But he starts watching Billy like a hawk after that. Checking in on him at random. Calling if they haven't seen each other in a few days. It should be irritating as fuck, and he acts like it is, but he still basks in the attention.

Doesn't hurt that it seems to annoy Steve to no end.

Especially doesn't hurt when, in a fit of apparent jealousy, Steve shoves Billy into a wall and kisses him like his life depends on it.

The hurt comes when Steve starts to unbutton Billy's shirt and Billy reflexively shoves him away, when he wants to keep going but wants it to stop and can't tell Steve either of those things because he doesn't have the words.

So he gets angry. At Steve, for pushing it, crossing lines he can't even see. But mostly at himself, because it might be easier than standing there heartbroken but he knows it's the worst thing he could do.

And at Steve, again, when the he doesn't respond the way he should. Doesn't punish Billy for doing the wrong thing, reacting wrong, being wrong. He doesn't withdraw and save himself, he tries to understand, tries to talk it out, like this is something Billy can just say out loud and it'll all be fixed.

He doesn't explain. Not that day. But he lets Steve hold him while he cries, ugly gasping sobs into the front of Steve's shirt, curled up in his lap, collapsed on the floor and tangled together. Because despite everything he's told himself, he does fit comfortably in Steve's arms.

💜tag list ppl💜 @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

[cherrycocaineee]

39. Billy Hargrove - Ruined

* Synopsis: Billy Hargrove has been keeping an eye on Vivianne Blanchet for a while now; a sweet girl who was still somewhat new to Hawkins, Indiana. She was pure in every aspect and Billy just wanted to ruin her more times than once. *

* Warning: smut, rough, unprotected, drunk/tipsy sex, breeding, and anything else considered a warning. *

* Billy Hargrove’s p.o.v *

School hadn’t even started yet and she was already driving me crazy just standing beside her locker innocently. She was holding her books close to her chest while talking to one of her little friends about whatever it was girls talked about. Her lips were perfectly glossed, her hair bounced when she laughed, and her body moved delicately as she turned to talk to someone new. I couldn’t even pay attention to what the people were saying to me because she clouded all of my senses greedily. Even now while she was chatting it up with some guy, I couldn’t focus on the conversation I was supposed to be having. My eyes were glued to him, watching every move he made, daring him to lay a single finger on her. Her eyes fluttered close for a single second before they landed on me, a smile spreading across her perfectly, plump, dusk-rose lips as she waved at me. I smiled back giving her a small wave before she turned back to her friends.

 “She’s cute, isn’t she?” Tommy grinned, his eyes following mine towards Vivianne, “I’ve been checking her out too. Bet she’s a freak.”

A low growl rumbled deep in my chest as I forced myself to look away from her to glare at Tommy. He never stopped staring at her. I noticed the way he licked his lips, the way his eyes dragged down to take in all of her body; every predatorial move he made made me want to rip his throat out. Instead, I chose the latter. Grabbing his collar, I pushed him roughly against the wall. He let out a yelp at the sudden impact.

 “Back off,” I growled, “you hear me? She’s mine.”

 “Okay!” Tommy agreed, holding his hands up in surrender.

  I let go of his shirt just as the bell rang telling everyone to get to class. Vivianne was walking away with her friends towards whatever class she was supposed to have right now. I sighed, annoyed that neither of us had a class together due to the grade difference.

All day I couldn’t get her out of my head, specifically her voice. She was so innocently pure that I couldn’t stop picturing all the noises she would make just by me simply touching her. Or the sounds she would make with my cock pounding relentlessly into her tight cunt. Tommy was wrong, Vivianne wasn’t a freak in bed at all. No, she was innocent, barely knew a single thing and I’d have to teach her everything. I’d have to ruin every inch of her innocence.

  Lunch rolled around pretty quickly, and I walked into the cafeteria already searching for Vivianne. I spotted her sitting at a table by herself, her friends probably in the lunch line. Luckily she normally brought her own lunch from home, giving me a decent amount of time to talk to her before her friends decided to butt in. Tommy and the others waved me over but I ignored them walking straight to Vivianne. As I approached her, I saw her reading a book while chewing on a strawberry. I plopped down beside her and took the strawberry she was eating out of her hand and bit into it. She looked at me, smiling.

 “Hi, Billy,” she giggled.

Her just saying my name made my dick twitch.

 “Hey, gorgeous,” I grinned, “How’s your day been so far?”

 “Pretty good. What about you?”

 “Boring until right now.”

I peeked over at the book she was reading curiously. I noticed there were several sets of highlighters sitting beside her and the book was marked up.

 “You readin’ this for school, darlin’?” I asked.

She shook her head, “just for fun. My friends say it’s lame but it’s relaxing.”

  I picked up the book and flipped through the pages roughly but careful not to lose her spot. She didn’t seem to mind, going back to eating her strawberries while I fingered through her pages. Then something in the margins caught my eye and I had to do a double take to make sure I saw it correctly. In the margins, it said “this reminds me of Billy.” Next to that was a highlighted portion of the text; the girl was watching and admiring a tall, violant man who made her heart race. I grinned. So she was watching me too.

  “I remind you of this guy in the book?” I teased, pointing to where my name was.

Her bright, sinless eyes widing and her cheeks turning a vivid shade of red as she reached for the book. I just pulled it back, chuckling at her embarrassment.

 “I forgot I wrote that in there,” she blushed.

  “Am I in here anywhere else?”

 “There’s no need to tease.”

  “I’m not teasin’. I think it’s hot that you think of me.”

Vivianne covered her tomato red face with her hands, her hair shifting. I leaned over, moving her hair ever so slightly, letting my ring adorn hand brush against the exposed part of her face. Her skin was delicate and soft against my calloused hands. I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, my breath tickling her earlob causing a shiver to run throughout her body.

 “I think about you too, pretty girl. Always runnin’ through my head, drivin’ me crazy.”

 I spotted her eyes looking at me through her fingers before she went back to hiding herself from me. So shy, so innocent, so pure. So much for me to ruin.

Our time was cut short because her friends walked over and set their plates down.

 “Billy, leave Vivianne alone,” Sandy grumbled.

 I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand away from Vivianne reluctantly. My blue eyes staring daggers at Sandy, who was doing the same in return. Finally, Vivianne removed her hands from her face and the red color was gone from her skin.

 “He isn’t bothering me, Sandy,” she sweetly laughed, “he was just being friendly.”

 “Billy Hargrove is anything but friendly.”

Placing Vivianne’s book back in front of her, I stood up and placed my hands on her shoulders still watching Sandy.

 “I’m just not nice to ugly girls,” I grinned, “and Vivianne Blanchet is anything but ugly.”

 Sandy glared more almost squinting her eyes in the process. I leaned down and looked at Vivianne. She reached her hand out to Sandy probably ready to tell her that she wasn’t ugly because that was the type of girl she was. I pulled her hand back, letting my hand feel her skin a little longer.

  “See ya later, doll.”

Then I walked away from their table and could hear the harsh remarks Sandy was making about me angrily. Vivianne was desperately trying to calm her down, telling her whatever she wanted to hear just so she’d stop her rampage.

  After school, I was leaning against my car waiting for Max impatiently and grumbling to myself about how this girl was always late. I flicked my finished cigarette to the ground and groaned.

  “Waiting for someone?”

Looking over, I saw Vivianne standing there with her books pressed against her firmly and her bag slung over her shoulder. The fresh, summer breeze waving her hair around her perfect face. I smiled.

 “Just my brat of a sister,” I said.

 She leaned against my car with me, letting her arms fall so that her books were sitting in front of her lap.

 “Max, right?”

I nodded and she smiled.

 “She’s sweet.”

 “You think everyone’s sweet. Even me.”

 “Because you are sweet.”

 I chuckled. No one ever described me as sweet before, she was definitely the first.

Our timing never seemed to be right though because Max started walking this way with her skateboard in hand. Anger flared up inside me. The one time I now wanted her to take her time and she had to come rushing out. Vivianne tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

 “I guess I should let you get going.”

 Then an idea popped into my head.

 “I can drop my sister off and give you a ride home, if you’d like.”

 “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

Max stopped walking in front of us but I didn’t care, instead, I manuvered myself in front of Vivianne and grinned, touching her waist and just barely pulling her closer to me.

 “You aren’t imposin’ at all. I’ll drive ya.”

 “Thank you,” she squeaked.

I led her towards the passenger’s side barely stealing a glance at Max.

 “Get in the back,” I said, her eyes rolling as soon as the words left my mouth.

  I opened the passenger’s side door and helped Vivianne inside by holding her hand as she lowered herself into the seat. Once her legs were inside, I closed the door and went back to the driver’s side. Max was just barely putting her seatbelt on when I got in. I started the ignition before even closing my door and the door was closed, I sped off causing Max to swing to the other side of the backseat.

 “Hey!” She snapped.

 “Should have been buckled up faster,” I said, speeding off towards home so I could drop her off first.

 Vivianne turned to check on Max, apologizing even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. Max thanked her and buckled herself up quickly. The entire way to mine and Max’s house, she was talking to Vivianne about the most random shit and if it wasn’t for Vivianne I’d have told her to shut up. To keep my annoyance down, I squeezed the steering wheel letting my knuckles turn white.

Eventually we made it and I came to a screeching halt.

 “Alright, get out,” I said to Max.

 Max rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Vivianne, “bye, Vivianne!”

 “Bye, Max!” Vivianne chirped.

When my door was closed, I pulled out of the driveway and headed towards Vivianne’s house that was fortunately a thirty minute drive from here. I stole a glance at Vivianne, she was watching the trees fly by through the window.

 “So,” she said, “are you doing anything this Saturday?”

That was unexpected.

 “Not that I know of,” I said, “why? Was there somethin’ you wanted to do?”

 “There’s a party being thrown by some football player and I was invited. I was seeing if you were going to be there too.”

 I knew what party she was talking about, pretty much everyone in the school got an invitation to that party this weekend. I wasn’t planning on going, at least not unless someone had given me a reason to. Now sitting in front of me was a reason to go.

  “Are you goin’?” I asked.

 She shrugged, “Sandy doesn’t really like parties and most of my other friends will probably get drunk. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go or not. Just curious if you planned on going.”

 “You should go. I’ll be there, we can hang out together.”

 “You don’t want to get drunk with all your friends?”

I shook my head grinning. “Why would I hang out with them when I can hang out with you instead?”

Vivianne smiled, running her fingers through her hair.

  “Great. Then I’ll see you there.”

  The rest of the way to her house, we just talked about nonsense. It didn’t really matter what we were talking about, we were just talking. Eventually we pulled into her driveway, her father was standing in front of his car with the hood open until he heard my car pull up. He poked his head around the side of his car, wiping his hands on a greased up rag then started approaching.

  “Thank you for the ride,” Vivianne said, unhooking her seatbelt.

 “Let me get the door for you,” I said, climbing out and strolling over to her side.

 I opened the door for her and helped her out.

 “See?” She said, “Sweet.”

   “Only for you, pretty girl.”

 “Afternoon,” her dad called.

 “Hey, dad.”

 “Hey, Mr. Blanchet.”

He reached out his hand to shake mine, I didn’t even hesitate grinning as I shook his hand.

  “What’s your name, son?”

 “Billy Hargrove, sir.”

  “Well Billy, thank you for giving my little girl a ride home. She’d have been stuck up there awhile if you hadn’t been so kind.”

I gestured to the car he had been working on.

 “Somethin’ wrong with your car?”

 “Nah. That’s my wife’s car, just needed an oil change and a small tweek. I’m all finished now.”

“I’ll be in in a minute,” Vivianne said to her dad, “I’m just going to tell Billy bye.”

 “‘Course. See you inside.”

  He walked away from us, waving goodbye at me. I waved back.

 “I’ll see you at the party,” she said.

 “I’ll see you there too.”

I watched her walk away from me towards her home. My eyes travelling her body while she was faced away from me and landing on her ass. I licked my lips as I watched her hips sway back and forth. And when she was out of my line of sight, I groaned.

  Saturday night approached faster than I thought it would and the party was crowded way before it even started. Vivianne wasn’t here yet so I was lingering around with Tommy and the others sipping on a drink while I waited for her. Plenty of girls tried to talk to us since the beginning of the night but I could only think of Vivianne. I kept stealing glances at the front door when there was no one in front of it to see if she was the next person to walk in.

 “Billy, you alright?” Tommy asked, “Six total babes have tried to talk to you but you pushed them away.”

 “Fine,” I grumbled, “just waitin’ on someone. I’m goin’ to get another drink.”

 I was standing at the table where all the alcohol was and started mixing some drink together with a lot of vodka. I hadn’t planned on drinking too much but if I had been tricked into going to a party then I was going to drink heavily.

There was a tap on my shoulder and I sighed annoyed.

  “Haven’t I already made it clear…”

 I turned around and saw Vivianne standing there. Her doe eyes stared at me, her freshly painted dusk rose lips forming into a small pout. My eyes wandered all over her body; she was wearing a tight, somewhat revealing baby pink dress that barely reached her mid-thigh, she wore a pair of heels that matched her dress, and her hair flowed gracefully down her back in perfect waves. I could feel my jeans tighten as my cock stiffened.

  “I can give you a minute,” she said, pointing away from me.

 “No, no,” I said, taking her hand in mine, “I thought you were someone else, doll.”

 She smiled and nodded. “Sorry I’m a bit late. I was finishing getting ready.”

  I shrugged it off, sipping on my own drink then gesturing to the table. “Wanna drink? Or has my pretty girl never let a single drip of alcohol pass those lips?”

“I guess a drink won’t hurt. Something not so potent.”

I nodded my head and mixed her a drink with a moderate amount of liquor then handed her the red solo cup. She thanked me before taking a sip, her lipstick staining the side of the cup.

 “Good?”

 “Perfect.”

  I took her hand again and dragged her away from the table and over to somewhere that wasn’t as crowded as the rest of the house. I plopped down and patted the spot next to me, grinning from ear to ear. Vivianne sat shyly beside me, crossing her left leg over her right. I let my eyes trace over her again and dug fingers into the cushion of the seat to keep myself from ripping her dress off now. Vivianne looked at me, smiling softly and gesturing towards me.

 “You look nice,” she said, “handsome.”

 “Thank you,” I flirted, running my tongue over my bottom lip, “you look fantastic.”

 Vivianne played with her hair, her eyes avoiding me. I moved myself closer to her, our outer thighs touching and rested my hand on her knee.

 “Nervous, pretty?”

 “Maybe a little,” she laughed, “I’ve just never been to a party without my friends.”

 “Well, you got me. I’ll make sure you have a night you won’t forget.”

  The two of us sat there drinking and talking, telling each other random stories from our childhood. Other people from the party tried to approach us but their visits never lasted longer than a second after they saw the look on my face. Vivianne, either clueless or didn’t care, paid no mind to their sudden departures and always waved goodbye to them no matter who it was. An hour into the party and she was already feeling tipsy; she was a light weight and the small amount of vodka that I put in her drink was enough to get her drunk completely and she still had half a cup left. I reached over and took her cup.

 “Think you’ve had enough, doll,” I chuckled.

 “I think so too,” she laughed, “actually, I have to go to the bathroom.”

 “Let’s go, I’ll take ya.”

She was so trusting too that she didn’t even think about how inappropriate it was for me to take her to the bathroom, all the things that could happen once we were alone up there out of earshot of everyone enjoying the music and booze downstairs. Vivianne and I headed upstairs towards the bathroom. I practically had my chest pressed against her back as walked up the stairs and down the hall. She didn’t seem to mind, in fact, it seemed welcomed. When we got to the bathroom, she walked inside and I stood in the hall leaned against the wall finishing my drink.

  Vivianne left the bathroom about three minutes later, closing the door behind her with a sigh.

 “Tired?” I asked.

Her eyes turned to me and half smiled.

 “Overwhelmed,” she corrected.

 “How about we go somewhere else so you can relax a bit, pretty?”

 “You don’t have to go with. I’m sure your friends would like to see you tonight.”

 “Well that’s too bad for them,” I smirked, “because I don’t plan on leavin’ your side.”

  She nodded her head and I pulled her along with me until I found us a room to be in. She went inside first while I held the door open for her then I followed close behind and locked the door behind us. I didn’t want anyone coming up here and bothering us. She laid on the bed, her arms sprawled out over the comforter, her legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. I finished the rest of my drink and walked over to where she way laying. My eyes grazed every inch of her intoxicated body. I noticed her eyes were closed and her fingers were playing with the ends of her hair. I climbed ontop of her and her eyes snapped open; my legs were on either side of her blocking her against my body.

 “Billy,” she whispered.

 “Shh,” I chirped, “just relax, darlin’.”

I watched her wiggle against my legs and chuckled. I moved myself so that I was half laying on her and half laying on the bed, my knee nuzzled inbetween her thighs inches away from her clothed heat. I had myself kind of propped up with one arm, using my fingers to play with her hair that practically melted in my hands. With the other hand, I touched her waist drawing shapes through the fabric of her thin dress. She bit her plump bottom lip, her eyes watching me intensely. I could see her chest heaving in and out as her breath quickened.

  “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy all night,” I whispered, my lips getting closer to hers, “goin’ upstairs with me all alone probably wasn’t a good idea, doll.”

 “I’m not scared,” she muttered, “I trust you.”

“Yeah baby, you trust me?”

She nodded her head. Her hand reached up and touched my face slightly, her eyes half-lidded as the alcohol she consumed more of her. I tore her hand away from my face pinning it back down.

 “Answer the question,” I growled.

 “Yes.”

 “Yes what?”

 “Yes, I trust you, Billy.”

 Once those words were out of her mouth, I attached my lips to her kissing her hard. Her fingers squeezed my own and I tangled the other hand into her hair deepening the kiss. Vivianne didn’t even try to fight for dominance, letting my tongue slip past her lips with no fight and letting me explore every inch of her mouth. Our saliva started coming out of the corners of our mouth. I pulled away breathlessly, watching a string of spit connect between our lips.

  “Take your dress off for me,” I groaned, sitting up and giving her the freedom to move.

 She never took her eyes off of me as she got off the bed, kicking her heels off and reaching behind her to unzip her dress. She froze once the zipper was down, using her hands to hold her dress up now.

 “I-I’ve never done this before,” she muttered.

 “Trust me,” I grinned, “I know. Just do exactly what I tell you. Take off your dress.”

Vivianne took her hands off her dress and it fell to the floor. My breath hitched as I laid eyes on her lingerie; it was white and lacey and covered very little. I gestured for her to come closer to me and she didn’t hesitate this time, her body stood between my legs and my hands roamed every inch of her exposed skin. I squeezed her hips tightly and ran my tongue over her stomach, all the way up to where her bra was just barely touching her breast. My dark eyes looked up at her and watched her head fall back from just my tongue touching her skin. I chuckled.

 “Let’s remove this,” I hummed, using one hand to unclasp her bra and throwing it to the side somewhere.

Her nipples were hard from the exposture. I hungrily took her left nipple in my mouth while tweaking the other one with my fingers. She gasped, back arching against nothing, pushing her closer to my body as I sucked harshly. A soft whimper was pulled from her lungs. When I was finished, her nipple was wet with saliva and the other one was worn out from being pinched. As I stood up, I pushed her onto the bed staring at her. I removed my black, leather jacket and red, button up tossing them on the ground with her own clothes. I took off my belt and unbuttoned my pants to give my cock some room. Grabbing her legs, I pulled her towards the edge of the bed and dropped to my knees. My lips peppered kisses along her thighs while my hands squeezed at the exposed flesh. Vivianne had propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes watching every move I made with lust in her eyes.

  I got closer and closer to her core. Her scent was just as intoxicating as the alcohol I had consumed. I hooked my fingers to her pearly white panties and dragged them down her legs revealing her pretty, pink cunt. I licked my lips before bringing my mouth to her core. Vivianne’s body flinched as my tongue pushed between her wet folds and I held her in place. I watched her squirm as I moved my tongue tasting every part of her. She was sweet; she hadn’t even came yet and her juices already tasted like nectar. I hummed against her and she moaned, falling back on the bed. I started picking up the pace, assaulting her clit viciously with my tongue. Her moans grew louder filling up the room. Even with my jeans unbuttoned and the belt off, my cock was struggling to breath. I coated her thoroughly before slipping a finger into her, feeling her soft, spongy walls contract against a single finger. The entire time I worked my finger into her, I never took my mouth off of her pussy. Soon enough she was all worked up and relaxed that I was able to slip another finger in earning another string of moans from her. I fucked them into her while slurping and nipping tenderly at her clit.

  “B-Billy,” she moaned, “I…”

 She couldn’t finish her sentence as I continued to fuck my fingers into her, hitting every sweet spot I could reach with just two fingers. I knew what she was gonna say, she was almost there. My sweet, little virgin was about to cum all over my face and fingers. All that did was help me pump faster so she could cum.

  “F-Fuck!” She cursed, her legs shaking as her orgasm crashed into her.

Waves of her juices washed over my face and coated my fingers. I fucked her through her climax, watching her body react to the aftershock of her first orgasm for the night. I slurped every drop of her juices then removed my fingers from inside her, climbing on top of the bed and grinning at her, my face glistening.

  “You taste so fuckin’ good,” I groaned, I brought my coated fingers up to her lips, “Have a taste, pretty.”

 Her mouth fell open and I stuck my fingers in her mouth. Her lips wrapped around them and softly sucked drinking up every inch of herself. I moaned as I watched her drink herself up, her saliva replacing her juices.

 “Atta girl,” I grinned, I pulled my fingers from her mouth with a pop, “now it’s my turn.”

She looked at me a bit confused and I patted her head.

 “So innocent. Have no idea what I’m talkin’ about, huh?”

  I took her hand into mine and led her off the bed. She looked up at me with her bright, wide eyes.

 “On your knees,” I ordered.

   She didn’t fight me, she didn’t tell me no, she just kneeled down in front of me while still watching me with her eyes. I pulled my cock free from my pants and sighed once it was released. Vivianne and I made eye contact with each other.

  “Open, darlin’.”

 Her mouth fell open obediently.

 “Stick your tongue out.”

 Her tongue rolled out of her mouth and I chuckled.

 “Good girl.”

I tapped my hardened cock against her tongue, the wetness from it causing a slapping sound. The sound caused me to moan and lay my head back. Then I pushed it all the way in her mouth, all of her saliva slobbering up every inch of my dick. She started gagging once the tip hit the back of her throat but I didn’t pull away. I rocked my hips faster, pushing my cock further down her throat. Tears started falling from her eyes as I forced her to choke on my cock. I started panting, my hand wrapping around her hair so she couldn’t pull herself away from me.

  “Fuck, that’s it, pretty girl.”

 I picked up the pace, my grip on her hair tightening as I continued to fuck her mouth. Her drool started falling to the floor, pooling at her knees. She hummed around my cock, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them again.

  “A-Aah,” I groaned, “f-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

My thrust got a bit sloppy before I spilled my seed into her mouth. Some dripped to the floor with a mix of saliva, but most of it was in her mouth. I told her not to swallow just yet as I pulled out still rock solid. Her mouth wasn’t enough, I needed to feel that cunt squeezing around my cock. Taking my hand, I placed it on her face, under her chin, making her look at me directly in the eyes.

  “Let me see,” I muttered, lowly.

  Vivianne’s mouth opened and I saw all of my cum sitting there prettily on her tongue. I grinned as I pushed her mouth close with my fingers.

 “Swallow.”

I watched her swallow all of it. Then I picked her up and laid her on the bed, climbing on top of her naked form. Her eyes were hazy.

 “So pretty,” I hummed, “Once I’m finished with you, no one will be able to fuck you as good as I do, doll.”

 “Please,” she whispered.

 “Please?” I grinned, “Please what?”

  Her body wiggled against the sheets, underneath me causing my cock to twitch at how smooth her skin felt against my own.

 “Please, fuck me,” she whined.

I licked my lips still grinning from ear to ear as I pulled her legs around my torso, lining myself up with her glistening cunt. There was no time for prepping, no time for easing it in. I needed her, I was desperate to feel her, even if it meant hurting her just a little bit. So I pushed myself into her causing her to yelp from pain as I stretched her out. I held her still when she started to pull herself from me wanting to get away.

  “You can take it,” I growled into her ear.

 Vivianne’s legs tightened around my torso almost squeezing the life out of me and making it harder for me to move but I managed. Once I was completely inside her, I let her adjust to the size, needing her to ease up, her pussy was squeezing me so tight I wouldn’t last if she didn’t relax. Soon, Vivianne’s body loosened up and she wasn’t holding me so hard anymore.

 “Better?” I asked.

She nodded.

 “Good.”

  I pulled my cock all the way out, the tip barely inside her before slamming back into her. Vivianne’s back arched off the bed as a scream rippled through her lips. I started pumping in and out of her watching as her breast jiggled with each snap of my hips. Moans and pants left my body as I used my hand to spread her legs wider to get a deeper angle. I could hear all the lewd squelching sounds of her cunt as I plunged my cock into her repeatedly, a ring of white forming around the base of my cock from all of her flowing juices. My hand wrapped around her neck just tight enough to make her a little breathless but not so much so she could still breath. Vivianne’s body was shaking, her eyes rolling back into her skull as I fucked her roughly.

  “It…it feels so good,” Vivianne cried out, her hands squeezing the comforter beneath us.

 “Yeah, baby,” I groaned, “s-shit. This pussy’s squeezing me so f-fucking tightly. All mine, you hear me. I’ll kill…a-ah…I’ll kill anyone who even looks at you.”

Vivianne nodded her head .

 “Nu-uh. Use your words. Who do you belong too?”

 “Y-you,” she choked out.

I grinned, moving my hips faster and faster, drilling my cock deeper and deeper into her. All of her juices were coating her thighs, my cock, and a little bit of my torso. She was so messy, it was hot. I nuzzled my head into her neck, removing my hand from her throat but not stopping the speed or force of my hips. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling each time I brushed against her sweet spot. I latched my mouth onto her neck and sucked harshly creating a purple mark against her skin. I did it a few more times too leaving a big mark that almost looked like a bruise on her neck. Sweat dripped from my hair, falling on her already thinly coated face. I growled against her as she tightened, probably getting close to her release.

 “I-I’m so cl-close,” she moaned out, “fuck, fuck.”

“Let me see it, baby,” I growled, “Cum on my fuckin’ cock. Show me what a messy, little slut you are.”

She moaned loudly at my words, her legs were shaking around me as her pussy gushed all around my cock. Her arms released me as she arched her back off the bed.

 “Good fuckin’ girl,” I moaned, “I’m almost there...shit.”

  “B-Billy,” she whined, “It’s too…it’s too much.”

 I didn’t listen to her, just kept fucking her roughly, my thrust getting sloppier the closer I got to my own climax.

 “G-gonna breed that little cunt of yours, doll,” I panted, “Fill that pussy up, make you all mine. Forever.”

More of her juices flowing as she got more and more aroused from the words I was saying. I gripped her hair tightly in my hands and pounded into her roughly.

 “Please,” she moaned, “p-please come inside me, Billy.”

 “Fuck yes! Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

   Hot spurts of my cum were planted deep inside her coating her walls. I shuttered against her as I finished. A few minutes passed with me still buried inside of Vivianne’s abused cunt, then I pulled out and fell beside her. Both of us were breathing fast so we could catch our breaths. I felt her shiver beside me and I chuckled, wrapping my arm around her tired body.

 “Sleepy, pretty girl?” I questioned.

 “Mmm.”

 “Let’s get you to my house, hmm. We can sleep real good there, doll.”

 “In a second,” Vivianne whined.

I chuckled and buried my head into her and wrapped us in the used comforter. There was nothing to worry about right now, the door was locked and we weren’t going to be bothered. For the first time in a long time, I could relax.

[fantasticallyfruity4]

Thinking about a coffee shop au where Steve works at Joyce’s coffee shop and I’m ngl It’s a little unhinged.

So Steve stays working at Joyce’s coffee shop, and when he starts he learns one of the resident regulars is a young pre teen girl named Max. She never orders anything, she just comes in, waves to whoever’s working (says “hi Jon” and “hey Joyce” by name but doesn’t seem to know the rest of the baristas like that), and sits herself down at a small table and starts her schoolwork.

By the second time Steve sees her and sees (what he realizes is a daily routine) Joyce bring her either some fruity sweet iced tea lemonade concoction, a matcha, a chai latte, or a mocha and give her a kiss on the cheek, he understands there’s some kind of relationship there. Which is confirmed when he watches Jonathan go sit beside her on his break and crack jokes, catching up with her (and bring her a snickerdoodle) the second time he sees her.

And he knows Joyce’s 3 kids, will, Jonathan and el. By name by story by photo. So he knows this isn’t Joyce’s kid.

So he asks Robin, one of his new co workers he’s become fast friends with.

And so he’s slowly filled in.

“The red head- Oh, max! Yeah. She’s Billy’s sister”

“Who the fuck is Billy?” Steve asks, even more lost. They don’t work with a ‘Billy’.

Robins eyes look uneasy, before they come back.

“Okay, so max is el- you know Joyce’s girl- els best friend. Her older brother is a guy named Billy”

Steve’s even more confused. Joyce’s younger kids- the twins- don’t spend much time in the shop. So why does Els friend hang out here? Well-

“Well, billy works a lot. He’s in college-the one a few blocks away- and he has a full time job and he has a part time job on the weekends and sometiems he even helps out here if joyce needs it, so he’s really busy and not home alot. And because Billy’s a broke college kid with a kid to raise he’s pretty broke so they don’t live in like, the best part of town. So Billy worry’s about her being home alone all afternoon. Sooo she comes here after school. Usually billy picks her up, sometimes Joyce takes her home, but she’s a really good kid. She stays here just so joyce can keep an eye on her and give Billy some peace of mind.”

Steve’s still confused. “Okay… but like where’s their parents? Weird situation don’t you think?”

That uneasy look is back.

“So um. Billy’s actually her step brother, ex step brother? I don’t know. But he’s got full legal guardianship and custody of her at this point and that’s the big thing that matters. Maxs mom kinda fucked off and started drinking herself to death, and Billy’s dad-“.

Robin took a deep breath. “He’s serving a few decades for domestic violence, domestic abuse, child abuse, battery and attempted homicide charges. Most of that shit on billy.”.

Him and max don’t really talk to much. It’s not that he has beef with a 12 year old he just doesn’t know her. And it would be kinda weird to go around making friends with little girls.

But one day he’s making a grilled cheese in the back, and he turns around to green eyes boring into his soul.

“Hey max. You okay?”

“Yeah. Whatcha making? It smells good?”

Steve chuckled.

“Mozzarella, Swiss, bacon and cheddar on sourdough. Fancy grilled cheese. Do you want half?”

And her eyes light up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of corse”.

And just like that Steve is her best friend. And he makes her a sandwich every day. He understands joyce and Jonathan now. It’s very easy to just adore this sweet kid.

And when els around?

They’re the cutest thing. Young, 12 year old puppy love. It’s the cutest thing on earth. Just all giggles and smiles.

But it takes months for Steve to meet Billy. Usually he either clocks out before Billy arrives (and he now says goodbye to max by name) or when he closes it happens to be Joyce’s nights bringing her home.

So when he first meets Billy, he simply doesn’t know he’s meeting Billy.

A gorgeous, but exhausted looking fella comes in one evening, Steve’s breath is taken away.

“Hey”

“Hey”

“Can I get an americano with a pump of caramel and an extra shot”.

Steve nods. “Any dairy?” “Still have oat milk or out for the day?”

Steve looks in the fridge. “You’re in luck, handsome”

The man looks up with surprised blush.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. What I owe ya?”

“Don’t worry about it” Steve winks.

“I told Joyce to stop doing this; she does too much for us” the pretty man chuckles and sighs and a moment of confusion hangs before Steve’s eyes light up.

Joyce? He knows- us? Too much for- oh-

“Oh my god! You’re Billy-“

And Billy looks confused. “Maxs brother, yeah? “

“Yeah yeah that’s me. Um-“

“Sorry- sorry had no idea. Sorry wasn’t a joyce coffee on the house thing that was me trying to flirt with you. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be sorry- you were hitting on me?”

They’re both taken away from the conversation by maxs voice as the girl walks out of the bathroom.

“Billy?” “Hey shortstack” he greets, welcoming her hug. Or her flinging herself onto his back. Oh. Aww.

“What are you doing here?”

“Night class got canceled, figured I’d come getcha as a little surprise and we’d have a girls night, some scary movies anddddd some Mac and cheese?”.

And it’s kinda sweet, you know. Billy’s canceled class was clearly a surprise. To max and Joyce too. He coulda taken the night for himself. Go to a bar, a club.

But he’d rather have quality family time with his kiddo.

Steve’s a goner. He knew from those big blonde curls the second they walked in the door but now he really knows.

[sharonisthebettercarter]

hugh campbell is literally the tallest member of the boys in the show and it's one a my favorite details<3

they rarely show it off and tend to use camera angles and posture (hughie boi i see you constantly slouching--LOOK AT HIM~<3<3<3 just casually *unintentionally* making butcher appear is *actual size*--) to play up or downplay/switch up height differences, but i kinda love that hughie went from being the second shortest member (comics) of the boys to the literal tallest<3 (butcher was generally in the middle with homie just casually being a head taller than him--, frenchie and mm being the taller guys on the team, love sausage of course being the biggest guy when there~<3<3<3 he still is btw--)

love love LOVE him so fucking much<3<3<3 literally the *only* REAL bear in this damn series (HE STRAIGHT UP BEAR HUGS BILLY IN THE COMIC AHHHHHHHHHHH~<3<3<3!!! we better see moar of him i swears--). mm is a close one, but he's more of a good big papa wolf~<3 butcher's a scraggly dumpster kitten or fuckin' heifer--

i *also* love love LOVE the single inch height increment hughie and billy got goin' on with homie, it's just the cutest most fun thing~<3 it goes--

5'11" (homie<3)

6'0" (billy bean<3<3)

6'1" (not so wee hughie<3<3<3)

6'2" (LOVE SAUSAGE~<3<3<3<3!!)

i see you sandwiched right inbetween those bois there, 'ey billy~<3? ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

throw in mm between billy and homie, it's hard to find a solid height on that bitch<3 (and they *def* keep trying to downplay his height and bulk cause holy FUCK, THAT MAN--) but i'm gonna say he's probably around 5'11.5", closer to 6'0" maybe??

lol for the roughest layout i guess, they tend to bill urban a bit taller than he is (you can tell cause they'll bill quaid at the same numbers but he's definitely taller than urban, also i SWEAR everytime this man is in a photo that's not a solo glamor shot he's tryin' out some jank ass angles always always always leaning *in* to the camera to make himself look *bigger* leik honey you are so fuckin' cute-- and they *def* keep trying to make billy look *way* bigger than he actually is, BILLYYYYYYYYYYY--) but boi, i see you too<3<3<3

i guess maybe a little closer, it might go something like...

5'11" (homie)

5'11.75" (mm)

6'0.5" (billy bean)

6'1.5" (hughie)

in which there's .75 increments, and then a full 1 inch leap from billy to hughie. either way, they're def very close and not a single one is 'small' per se (except compared to love sausage--tho i do bet starr is one of those fuckers to downplay his height so other men get insecure LMAO--), but i just love the sequencing<3<3<3

what i *also* love~?

(bad posture homie lol) homie's reaction to hughie posturing at his full height was fucking amazing. IT WAS OH MY GAWD--i can't. he had his little surprised moment and then made a *pleased* "ooh~<3" and then smirked like THIS--

leik hughie... MAH BOI--i know he *tried* so fucking hard but leik. homelander is just so unthreatened by him that he's fucking *amused* and engaged with hughie *trying* to be brave. *he relaxed further*-- he just... he just doesn't give a shit. and it's horrible. but also *beautiful* because at this point, you can tell he's just so bored out of his mind that he even *welcomes* the challenge in some ways. he is LOVING that people feel so attacked by him without him doing much--LEIK.

there are a couple other unhinged and unsettling *positive* reactions he has to people similarly enough, (his descent into madness in real time--not gonna get into it now lest this post become *all* about homie--) but man oh man~<3

little bit less posture difference here, will say it's silly fandom obsesses over/exaggerates single inch height differences (particularly between homie and billy while ignoring/reversing hughie and billy, leik C'MON--let hughie be his height~<3! also we should be obsessing over the perfect~<3 *sequencing*, DUH--) but it's honestly pretty amazing how much of a nonfactor the height is in general.

for homie, it's pretty obvious he doesn't give a shit as he's particularly relaxed and unbothered by people being taller than him (especially hughie--literally amused by people posturing LEIK--by the gods his reaction to hughie challenging him--I CAN'T IT WAS FUCKING--GOOSEBUMPS~<3<3<3), but it just goes to show. motherfucker is just playing with his food--

BONUS~<3

lmao blurry ass pic of baby urban getting *dwarfed* by dwayne "i'm 5'11" and wear lifts" 'the rock' johnson. (also that mofo got so much bigger leik gotdamn i am actually curious how much more he'd *DWARF* urban cause ya look at him now and just. he ate a truck--ya look at the rock next to a guy leik SHAQ and HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT the differences are staggering leik one inch is nothin' baby--) SWEET BABY JEEZUZ--

bonus bonus~<3

another detail i *love*?

the shorter two (and frenchie~<3<3<3!) have the bigger/longer noses and... *likely* the biggest cocks--

;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

[midnight-black2]

HII BEFORE MY REQUEST I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT I LOVE YOUR FICS, ITS SO HARD TO FIND SOMEONE WHO WRITES MAINLY FOR DOM READERS <3

now that it's farleigh's week in your event (yay!!) could i request prompt #10 for him?

i really can't imagine farleigh in a serious committed relationship, so i guess having a fuckbuddy's as close as he can get lmao; maybe reader was initially brought into the cattons' as venetia's friend but they really hit it off with farleigh and they both decided to be friends with benefits bc neither of them could be bothered with an actual partner?

i'll let you decide if they're actually chill with this arrangement or if there are some unsaid feelings between them, ty for your time byee <3

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : what the req says

disclaimers : smut with a (kinda) plot, handjob (m!receiving), sub!farleigh, dom!reader, gn!reader, choking (m!recieving), slight degradation if you squint, praise, reader can have a dick or strap

note : based off of billie eilish's "my strange addiction." fun fact : i'm going to her concert when she goes on tour later in the year !! also thanks for the compliment ! anyways, enjoy !

you were addictive, insatiable, really. he couldn't get enough of you, and he had never felt like that before. he had sworn any fuck-buddy off--actually, he had sworn love itself off. there was no way he could be in a relationship for longer than two weeks and not get tired of it. but you? you made him second guess that. a at

it was an agreement that was mutual from both parties. you two had quite literally held an oath that you would never fall in love, ever. none of that sappy stupid shit. you guys simply just got too bored too easily. but, but...no. but nothing. that was how it was, and farleigh knew it. so he was content. he was content with you fucking him stupid, experimenting with him, and if he was really lucky, exhibiting some sort of aftercare. he was content, more than.

"does that feel good, farleigh? you like it when i do that?" you teased, as you squeezed the hand wrapped around his throat a bit. not too tight, but tight enough the restrict his breathing slightly. he nodded, letting out a choked moan. you were simply getting him off, your hand wrapped around his cock going at a merciless pace.

"god, look at you. already fucked dumb, hm? a little pathetic, baby," you said, smirking. he whined, bucking his hips into your hand.

"s-sorry, shit, m'sorry," he apologized, before throwing his head back in pleasure. it went on like that until he came, crying out weakly. and then? you guys exited the room as if nothing even happened. like he didn't just make a mess of a bed that wasn't even his. like you didn't just wash his cum off your hands. but sure, nothing happened.

you fled to venetia, where she was playing tennis with felix. they took a quick break, and she called you over.

"goodness, where were you? we were looking for you two," she said, dramatically.

"oh yeah, sure you were," you replied, with a playful eye roll.

"we were," felix butted in, tilting his head to the side.

"really? looks to me like you guys were playing tennis," you said, quirking a brow.

"well eventually we got tired of looking," venetia said, smiling.

"but seriously, where were you guys?" asked felix, as he looked between you guys. you and farleigh exchanged a glance, and he tried to suppress a smirk.

"three guesses," you guys said in unison. both felix and venetia rolled their eyes.

"smoking," venetia suggested, shrugging.

"talking shit," felix said, looking at her. "or..."

"or...?" she questioned.

"or you guys were fucking," felix said, and you laughed.

"you have no evidence to support that claim," you said, simply. farleigh snickered. truthfully, everyone knew about you and farleigh. the tension was always there, but nobody chose to speak on it. everyone also knew that maybe you guys were more than just friends with benefits.

there were other times that made farleigh especially second guess himself. the times where you weren't so mean. when you talked him through it, fucking him softly and with care. that always made his heart beat faster (it also made his orgasm come faster too).

"that's it, farleigh. you're doing so well for me," you said, softly. he whimpered as you fucked him. easy goes, in and out. he was calling out your name deliciously.

"f-fuck, oh my god Y/N," he moaned. "i-i can't."

"i know, baby. just cum for me this one last time, okay?" he nodded, wanting to be good for you. wanting to please you as much as possible. after a little longer of bringing him near his high, he came with a silent moan. a few tears fell down his cheek, but you were quick to wipe them away.

"there you go, you're so good, farleigh," you said, gently cupping his cheek.

yeah...all in all, farleigh was pretty fucked. he had feelings for you, no denying it. but for now, he would be happy with what he had.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[sadhours]

Billy and Steve kinda drunk at Tina’s stupid party, decide to smoke a j together and end up jerking each other off because you know, they’re not gay and anything more would just be too gay 😉

I really fucking love these two, thank you for this request.

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, they uh jerk each other off, it’s not gay I swear, drug and alcohol use

💟💟💟💟💟

“She said I’m bullshit,” Steve mumbles, “That we’re bullshit.”

Why the fuck he’s saying this to the new guy who stalked up to him with his chest puffed as their first interaction, he isn’t sure. But it’s been a few hours since Nancy basically broke up with him and left with Byers. And Steve was just gonna go home. He hadn’t drank before then, planned on staying relatively sober for the night but that went out the window when he passed a bottle of vodka on his way out. Drank about half of it before he stumbled downstairs in the basement and found who other than Billy Hargrove, Hawkins new Keg King as the fucks he used to call his friends gloated about seconds after Hargrove took the record out from under Steve.

Hargrove was by himself. Sat on the couch Tina’s mother decided was out of fashion and retired to the finished basement. Looks like it’s mostly meant for storage. Loads of boxes. Steve was coming down here to be alone. Get a second to breathe. Asked Billy what the hell he was down here for and turns out, for the same thing. Then he held up a rather fat joint and asked King Steve to join him.

Half a joint and the rest of the vodka bottle later, Steve’s venting to the new King Asshole.

“Girls’ are bullshit,” Billy says with a strained voice, holding the skunky weed smoke in his lungs. Exhales. Looks cool and it annoys Steve, cause he used to care about looking cool and he wishes that didn’t change. At least he didn’t hurt inside this much then. Billy passes the joint back, “They’re only good for one thing and honestly, they ain’t that fucking super at that either.”

Steve’s inclined to agree, mostly out of hurt. Maybe shit would’ve been easier for him if he did to Nancy what he’s done to all the other girls he’s been with. Unfortunately, he liked her.

“She wasn’t,” he huffs, “I mean— Nancy’s great.”

Billy snorts, leans back and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. He smells like some musky cologne, beer and cigarettes. But Steve kind of likes looking at him and he’s not sure why.

“Bitch dumped you,” Billy whispers, leaning close to Steve like this is some big secret, “You’re allowed to be mad at her. Granted, I don’t know what the fuck you did but King Steve, you’re a senior in high school. Bitches come and go.”

Steve huffs again and sits back, ‘cause he can’t argue without explaining a whole bunch of weird, confusing shit he doesn’t even completely understand himself to a complete stranger. He rubs his palms against his eyes, wants them to stop stinging. Billy’s being nice now but again, he’s a stranger. And if Tommy’s clinging to him like a stubborn barnacle, he’s probably not all that kind. There was something in his eyes when he stared Steve down earlier that was scary. Because Steve didn’t understand it. If he wanted to kick Steve’s ass, he could’ve but he didn’t. Just stared at him like he wanted something out Steve but Steve still can’t figure out what.

“Sorry— I shouldn’t be whining about this shit to you,” Steve laughs, awkwardly, “I don’t even know you.”

“But I know you,” Billy replies with a smirk.

“Y-you do?” Steve looks back to Billy with hesitation, perhaps even a little fearful.

Billy nods slowly, lips pursed with the joint hanging from them. Plucks the paper from his lips and passes it back to Steve as he says, “You’re all these boring fucks care about. King Steve is the only thing they can talk about. Barely been here but I know all about you.”

Steve likes this fact but he also feels guilty that he likes that, because he isn’t supposed to care about the whole popularity thing anymore. He even blushes hearing it, shakes his head and takes the joint. Takes a small pull and passes it back because he’s already too stoned and school’s gonna be hell tomorrow.

“Yikes,” he says and Billy laughs, cruel and deep in his belly and it makes Steve feel uneasy. But he likes sitting on this couch down here, hidden behind stacks of boxes. Labeled things like XMAS DECORATIONS and TINA’S SUMMER CLOTHES.

“They like you still,” Billy whispers, smoothes his fingers down the back of Steve’s neck. Gives him chills but he doesn’t move.

“Wanna forget about her?” Billy asks then, “Just for right now?”

“Yes,” Steve chokes out in spite of how his brain’s firing off about how this is weird and he should be getting home. But mom and dad are out of town again. And he does wanna forget about Nancy. Wants to get this hurt out of his chest.

Billy’s hand drops to Steve’s lap, he pulls another drag from the joint and exhales the smoke in Steve’s face. His hands barely moving but Steve can feel it. And maybe it’s the smoke making his head feel all fuzzy and his body feel all warm. His dick’s getting hard. Because Billy Hargrove is feeling him up over his Levi’s.

His palm pushes a little harder on Steve’s crotch, his eyes look straight ahead as he finishes off the joint. Pinches the cherry between his fingers before he tosses it to the floor. Steve watches it and then looks straight ahead like Billy does. Next, Billy grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls his hand to Billy’s tight jeans. Drops it in his lap. And Steve’s filled with a curiosity he’s never felt before. He starts rubbing Billy’s crotch. He kind of wants to look at Billy’s face but he’s scared to. Keeps his eyes trained on a rolled up rug in the corner of the room.

The pressure of Billy’s palm on his cock feels nice. It’s easy to focus on it. Weed’s always made Steve a little frisky. Everything just feels hotter. Kissing feels better, eating pussy is funner and it makes his cock like, a million times more sensitive. So he’s fully torqued in his jeans. Feels like Billy is too. Which weirdly enough, turns Steve on even more and his hips kind of roll up into Billy’s touch. And it has to be the weed that makes Steve whine. He’s trying to ignore that it’s Billy’s hand on him but he can’t, really. Gives himself a moment to glance down at his hand on Billy’s lap and finds that Billy has some pretty seriously defined abs. And it’s real weird that he likes them. Definitely the weed.

Soon enough, Billy’s unbuttoning Steve’s jeans and Steve moves to help get them down his thighs, along with his underwear. His cock pops out, bounces and hangs. Billy’s also pulling his pants and underwear down and then he’s spitting on his hand and wrapping his fingers around Steve’s cock.

Steve whimpers from the wet touch, eyes rolling back in his head as his hips stutter up. Billy’s voice is quiet and strained when he asks, “Thinking about her?”

“No,” Steve confesses, looks down at where Billy’s languidly stroking him and it’s odd seeing another man’s hand wrapped around his cock. Not odd enough to stop this, though. He returns the favor, spits a glob of saliva into his palm and smears it over Billy’s thick cock. Squeezes at the base, curls his hand on the upstroke. Billy lets out a sweet, breathy noise that Steve likes a lot. Different than a girls’ moan but just as pretty, he thinks.

Steve gasps when Billy squeezes his cock a little tighter and speeds up his strokes. Quick and firm. Steve mirrors it with his own hand on Billy. Steve stares down at his own crotch, Billy does the same. The pair of ‘em gasping and moaning softly. Steve comes first, a mess on his thighs and Billy’s fist. And the blonde strokes him through it. Steve’s whimpering and it’s pretty damn pathetic the way his hips cant up in the air. Billy’s following suit soon after, jerking his hips up as he fucks Steve’s fist.

The boys sit back, hands loose around softening dicks as they pant. Steve looks down at the mess in his lap, not sure how to clean it. He glances around the room but there’s not much in here. Just the couch and boxes. So Steve leans forward, shucks off his blazer and uses that to soak up the cooling cum on his thighs and hand. Hands to Billy before pulling up his briefs and pants. And this whole interaction has sobered him up. The realization that he and the new guy have just jerked each other off in Tina’s fucking basement hits him hard and Steve needs to leave. So he does. Without a word to the guy.

Worst part, at basketball practice the next day. Both of them wildly hungover. Billy crowds behind Steve and says, “Harrington, right? Heard you used to run this school, that true?” like he didn’t just jerk him off the night before.

[shortnspidey]

CHAPTER TWO: UNFORGETTABLE ENCOUNTERS

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 1.6K

A/N: lyra and Billy have arrived at hawkins!! Anyone else think Jonathan is criminally underrated? I know this chapter was kinda boring and a filler chapter for what's to come. I'm so excited to write the famous Halloween episode! Eddie and Lyra scenes coming soon!

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Lyra knew that Billy was a sucker for attention. However, this was certainly not the way she expected to arrive at her new High School. As if from a scene in a movie, heads turned to his sleek, dark blue Camaro pulling into the parking lot. The music blaring from the car speakers adding to the anticipation. As Billy parks the car, out steps Max, Lyra following close behind. "Have a good day at school, Cherry." Lyra smiled handing Max her skateboard and watching her skate away.

"She better not be late." Billy chastised throwing his cigarette bud on the ground. "You just love to make an entrance don't you." Lyra scoffed playfully reading Billy like an open book. As Lyra leaned over to get her backpack from the backseat, Billy immediately noticed the amount of male attention she was attracting. Not liking it one bit.

Completely oblivious, Lyra swung her backpack over her shoulders ready to get the awkward introductions out of the way. "Where do you think you're going?" Billy questioned glaring at his sister. "To the main office, we have to pick up our class schedules." Lyra looked at him as if he had grown two heads. "Wearing that," He gestured to the Def Leppard cropped top.

"I don't think so." He tsked pulling a black leather jacket from the trunk of his car. "It's your shirt. I stole it from your closet." She deadpanned giving him the meanest glare she could muster. "Just put the damn thing on." He insisted, throwing his leather jacket in her direction. For the sake of not wanting to argue knowing how stubborn and hot-headed he was she did as he asked. "Happy?" She grumbled sarcastically. "Ecstatic." He retorted with an eye roll. 

It was getting harder and harder for Lyra to ignore the whispers and blatant stares that they were both receiving upon walking toward the main office. She knew that both males and females found Billy attractive.  With his tall, muscular frame, perfectly styled blonde hair, and confident swagger, he exuded an air of mystery and rebellion. Billy's presence has certainly made an impression, and the tension in the air is almost tangible.

On the other hand, Billy was scowling at anyone who dared to look at Lyra for more than five seconds. There was a reason why he had handed her his precious leather jacket. He had no problem knocking out any dirtbag who so much as looked at his sister with lustful intentions or even dared to wolf whistle in her direction. Both siblings made their way to the administration office, where a sign reading "Class Schedules Here" hung crookedly on the door.

Inside, the room was filled with the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of copier ink. The walls were adorned with bulletin boards showcasing upcoming events and motivational posters that seemed to promise endless possibilities. A table near the entrance was stacked with neatly arranged packets of paper, each labeled with a different grade level. Lyra and Billy exchanged a glance before reaching for the pile designated for seniors.

Their fingers brushed against the smooth, cool surface of the schedules as they slid one out from the stack. With schedules in hand, they stepped aside, allowing other eager students to grab their own. They unfolded the papers, revealing a grid of classes, room numbers, and teacher names. "Intro to Psychology." Lyra muttered assessing her first class of the day. "What about you?" Billy shrugged handing his sister his class schedule. "Who cares, I'm ditching."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Just don't get caught." Billy scoffed, nonchalantly checking out the cheerleaders who walked by. "I'll see you later." Walking off to find her locker, she was surprised to see Billy hot on her trail. "You let me know if anyone bothers you." Billy declared leaning against the locker next to his sisters. "Easy, Hellraiser," She taunted spinning the dial on her locker and managing to open it on the first try. "I can handle myself. Have fun ditching." With a mischievous grin, Billy sauntered off, leaving Lyra to face her first class of the day.

Thankfully, Lyra's psychology teacher did not bother to introduce her as the new student in front of the whole class. She exhaled a silent sigh of relief and slipped into the back of the classroom, her teacher's eyes only briefly acknowledging her presence before returning to the lesson at hand. Gratitude washed over her; there would be no standing in front of the class, no spotlight to amplify her discomfort, and no need to articulate the reasons behind her and her brother's abrupt transfer during the final stretch of high school.

She settled into an empty desk, the cool surface a welcome barrier between herself and the sea of unfamiliar faces. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead mingled with the murmur of her classmates, creating a cocoon of anonymity. Lyra's heart rate steadied as she realized she could blend into the background, at least for now. As the teacher dove into the intricacies of the human mind, Lyra allowed herself a moment to observe her peers from the safety of her peripheral vision.

No one spared her more than a cursory glance, and that was just fine with her. Here, in this small corner of the world, Lyra could be just another student, her story tucked quietly away beneath the layers of adolescent complexity that filled the room. Luckily the lecture went by smoothly, after a few notes and intricate doodles scrawled in her notebook the school bell rang, signaling the end of class. She quickly grabbed her book bag, making a mental note to stop by her locker to exchange her books.

"Hey," The voice of one of her classmates, Tina, she recalled interrupts her thoughts. "You're new, right?" Instead of saying something snarky and borderline sarcastic, Lyra chooses to instead nod awkwardly. "I'm throwing a Halloween bash tomorrow, hope you can make it." Lyra flashed her a faux smile taking the orange flyer from her hand. "Oh, and feel free to bring that sexy boyfriend of yours." Lyra couldn't hold back the look of disgust that made its way onto her face.

"Billy's not my boyfriend, he's my brother." Tina's smile only grew. "Good to know." Lyra took that as her cue to leave shoving the flyer into her bag and giving the curly-haired brunette another fake smile. The school halls are buzzing with the energy of students rushing to their next class. Amidst the chatter and locker slams, Lyra navigates her way through the crowd. That's when she spots them—a huddle of muscular athletes, their letterman jackets a stark contrast to the sea of regular high school attire.

They're looming over a brunette boy whose back is pressed against the cold metal of the lockers. His eyes are wide, darting around for an escape that doesn't exist, his hands fumbling with the straps of his backpack. Lyra's steps falter for a second, taking in the scene. The boy is practically shrinking under the weight of the athletes' sneering superiority. One of the jocks, a tall guy with a smirk that's all teeth, is leaning in too close, his hand raised reaching for his camera.

"Hey, Byers, who are you spying on today?" One of them jeers, snatching the camera strap. Lyra watches as he tries to grab his camera back, but the jocks are playing keep away, laughing at his attempts. Without missing a beat, Lyra strides over with a palpable determination. Her presence shifts the air, and the jocks' attention snaps to her, their mockery momentarily forgotten. The boy seems to hold his breath, his eyes meeting Lyra's for a fleeting second. Lyra stands her ground, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Beat it assholes." She challenges them, her tone laced with a confidence that belies her status as the new kid. The athletes, caught off guard by her boldness, falter, their facade of invincibility cracking. The standoff is brief but intense, and as quickly as it begins, it ends. The jocks, with a roll of their eyes and a huff of annoyance, back off. They throw a final, warning glance at the brunette boy before they disperse.

Their egos bruised but not quite ready to admit defeat. Lyra offers a hand to the boy, helping him regain his composure. He's visibly relieved, his gratitude evident as he adjusts his camera strap and mumbles a shy "Thanks." She nods, a silent pact forming between them. "Don't mention it," Sticking her hand out she takes the moment to introduce herself.

"Lyra Hargrove." Shuffling the strap of his camera over his shoulder, he meets her halfway shaking her hand. "Jonathan Byres." With the final shrill of the warning bell Lyra gives him one last smile before walking toward the opposite end of the hallway. "Nice to meet you, stay outta trouble, Jonathan Byers." And with that, both teens disappeared into the sea of high schoolers.