#and Billy thinks Steve's in love

[calumfmu]

hi angel ✨

could i request steve stealing BILLYS GF this time? i know there’d be violence involved and it gets me hawt 😉

hi baby <3 here you go! thank you for waiting on it, like thank you thank you thank you, it's been a long time coming and I hope it delivers as much as I loved writing this.

Steve Harrington x reader (5k+ words)

cw: 18+, mdni, drunkness, swearing, hints of abuse (nothing too serious), smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, munch!Steve (love him, he will be missed)

He was a mess. Falling everywhere, sloppy drunk, spitting profanities at everyone who had looked in your direction, doing everything that you had begged him not to. But he was yours... right?

"Baby..." The word was drawn out, a sloppy wet kiss pressed to the side of your cheek. Pushing him away, you grumbled to yourself, pulling down your skirt where his hand had found its way to your thigh, pushing up the material.

"Billy. Stop."

The older man rolled his eyes, continuing his advances despite your best efforts to stop it. His hand continued snaking up your thigh, black cloth hitched up to expose the cotton white of your panties. A soft groan escaped his lips as he gained sight of your underwear, interest peaking at his eyebrows.

You caught his hand half way, his fingers itching to dip the material to the side. "Billy. Please."

With a sigh, he had pushed you away from him, irritation reaching its full height as he realized he wasn't going to get anything from you. Distance grew between the two of you as he scooted away, hands immediately finding the beer that once laid abandoned to his side. His eyes grew curious as he searched the crowd for anyone to stick his dick into, satisfy the craving that you weren't going to give into.

"We're in public," you seethed, dropping your voice down to a whisper as you took a look around you. It was a bonfire, celebrating the senior season coming to a close. Half of Hawkins High surrounded you, drunk off of their asses, yet you knew that rumors were already going to start from the way he had caressed you, finding yourself the topic of discussion among the hallways in the last few weeks of class.

Did you hear that Billy and his girl did it in front of the fire? They were so on each other, I heard the Pammy got hit with Billy's pants right before he fucked—what was her name again?

"Like it fucking matters," he spat at you, not bothering to glance in your direction as a blonde walked by him. Her Daisy Duke shorts were high on her hips, teased hair higher than ever as she rounded a corner, throwing a wink in his direction. Scoffing at the sight, you weren't shocked—everyone acted like you didn't exist in this relationship. "'We're in public. I'm tired. You're too rough, too drunk, too blah, blah, blah.'"

Pulling at your shirt uncomfortably, you looked around to see if anyone had noticed his words, voice dripping with intoxication and growing louder by the second.

"Can we not do this right now?"

"So when do you want to do it?" He was borderline shouting at this point, a few pointed glances in your direction from nearby teenagers. Crumbling under their looks, you shifted uncomfortably. "I barely get any anymore."

You remained silent instead choosing to look down at your clasped hands, fingers toying together at your lap. Embarrassment tinged at your cheeks, coloring the skin as your boyfriend grew more angry by the second. This attitude change wasn't something you weren't used to, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing.

You placed a hand on his arm, briefly closing your eyes at the way he pulled away when that same blonde looked in his direction.

"Maybe we should get out of here," you whispered, standing up. Billy's eyes suddenly found yours, that charming smirk you once fell for crossing his face. The flickering light of the fire made him look beautiful, a fallen angel that was tempting you in every way possible.

He stood up, standing in front of you with a hand on your hip. Chugging the rest of his beer, he tossed the empty glass bottle to the side.

"You want to leave with me, baby?" He grinned, stepping even closer to you. His hand graced the side of your face, cold fingers from the beer dancing across your temple. It made you want to pull away.

You grabbed his wrist, leaning into the hand as his other hand began to rest on your lower back. It was the way he pulled you in, the heat from his body pressing into yours that made you melt, his scary demeanor fading as he became Billy—that charming man who was so beautiful, so scary to everyone but you.

"I could... make it up to you," his voice was low as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Apologize for my behavior, baby."

You nodded, leaning into the touch. Eyes fluttering closed, you felt comfort in this moment.

It didn't last for long.

One quick grab under your skirt, you were jumping away from him, pushing at his chest. The quirk of his eyebrow fueled the irritation in your chest, his cocky smug attitude returning, sweet Billy dissipating.

"Absolutely not. I'm done," you rolled your eyes once more before you began to walk away, only to get caught by the harsh grab of your shoulder. Pulling you into him, he squared up in your face, eyes inches away from yours. Keeping your face straight, you met his gaze, not faltering despite wanting to crumble.

Maybe it was the shots you had earlier, fueling this confidence that you never had before when it came to him. He always decided things, he was the shot caller when it came to your break ups and make ups, never you.

"What was that?" Alcohol wafted off of his breath, hitting you in the face harshly.

"I said I'm done, Billy," you pulled away from him, looking down at your shoes as you noticed a few pair of eyes on the two of you. Great, more rumours were the last thing you needed come Monday morning.

He scoffed a laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the sky, constellations partially hidden by the overhang of evergreen trees.

"We're not done until I say we're done, baby," he laughed, winking at you as a scowl crossed your features.

Taking a step away from him, you shook your head, "Watch me... baby."

It was dramatic, the way that you scurried away, pushing away hoards of teenagers that were surrounding the fire. You could've gave yourself a round of applause the way you handled it, the tears didn't even come until you landed in a clearing, the rocks of the boulders encasing the fire long behind you.

You didn't hear the crunch of leaves coming up behind you as you wiped your face, hot tears cast away by your hands. Your sniffles covered the uncomfortable cough feet away, a stuffy nose blocking the stench of a cigarette from that same direction.

Jumping away from the hand that was placed on your shoulder, you shoved the person, screaming.

Someone who definitely wasn't Billy hit the ground, a groan leaving him and a cigarette flying in the opposite direction. Two hands were held up in a surrender, apologies thrown.

"Jeez, it's me! I'm sorry," the young man groaned some more, standing up as he shook the broken leaves off of him, leaning down to find his discarded cigarette. Placing it in his mouth again, he ran a hand through his hair, face turned up in discomfort as he rubbed out his shoulder. "Jesus Christ, you're strong."

Exasperated, you huffed, stomping your foot down as your heart began to settle down behind your rib cage.

"Jesus, Steve, you scared me!"

"Yeah, no shit," he offered the cigarette to you in which you declined, waving your hand in his direction. Eyeing you under the moonlight, he took note of your tears, eyes shifting uncomfortably over the highlights of your face. "Oh... egh—Are you crying?"

Laughing, you turned away from him to wipe away the sting of hot tears once more.

"As many girls as you get, Steve, you still don't know how to speak to one?"

His smile was wide around the tobacco stick in his mouth, eyebrows raising at your comment. It was the most of a conversation you had with the man, normally harsh words you heard in passing as he exchanged them with your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? The rivalry between them was something you never could make sense of, pointless arguments and overt male aggression.

"Just asking, hon," he shrugged, taking a slow drag. The smoke billowed from his mouth, your eyes drifting through the clouds. It was in this light you realized just how good he looked—scratch that, you've always noticed how good he looked, you just couldn't voice it before. You didn't know who Billy was going to kill first if he had ever found out—you or Steve.

"So what's wrong? He finally did something stupid enough to fuck up the one good thing in his life?"

A small gasp left your lips as soon as the words left his. A smirk was on his face, teeth exposed slightly as he peered at you.

"Steve..." You warned, shaking your head as you tried to stop his whole thing from even beginning. The breakup was fresh on your mind, something you needed to not think about, but could only, as it was literally minutes before.

"What?" He laughed, tucking his hand into his pocket. "I was waiting for him to finally be an idiot in the right way."

You could barely bring up the nerve to be irritated at him, this sudden change of Steve being something that you weren't used to. The both of you had been aware of each other's existence, normally passing through halls giving each other curious eyes, nothing too out of pocket that would've sounded off alarms in Billy's head.

"I just-I don't want to talk about him right now," you huffed, turning your whole body to face him. He gave you a once over, eyebrows raising at your remark. His cigarette was tossed to the side, long forgotten as he stepped closer to you.

"We don't have to talk about him," he said, shrugging slightly. A small smile began to creep up on your face as he adopted the infamous persona he was known for around Hawkins—or used to be known for. "We actually don't have to talk at all."

"Oh, is that so?"

You could match his energy in this moment, grateful that it was coming from him and not your ex. It had gotten to a point in your relationship where sex had been so common, it felt like a chore for you, rather than something you enjoyed with the blond. With Steve, you were willing to explore what type of feelings he would bring out of you.

"Absolutely, hon." His teeth dug into his bottom lip, upper lip curving into a smile at the same time. Stepping closer to you, he wrapped an arm around you, leading you to walk in the direction of the bonfire.

The leaves underneath you crunched as you faltered in your gait, feet turning inward.

"I don't want to go back out there," your voice was thin, less confident than you had been earlier. "He's... I don't want to see him."

Steve was confused as he looked at you, eyebrows furrowing before he recalled the way you looked seconds earlier, hot tears running down your face, slightly smudging the mascara that clung to your eyelashes. It was like a switch flipped, that bit of concern returning yet again. Your insecurities were poking out at every seam, revealing yourself under a gaze of perceived scrutiny.

"We don't have to—no, I could take you home," he said, nodding at his own words. He waited carefully before your reaction came, a slight shift in the head that gave him the green light.

The two of you walked in a different direction of the bonfire, you heard the fading of the throes of teenagers, the blare of music from a stereo fading, and the crackling orange of the flames dying down. Another world of Hawkins was entered, the calming of the night air, chirps of cicadas surrounding the two of you. It was the perfect night, early summer setting in.

"So... what was the fight about?" Steve's voice interrupted your appreciation of the night. Your shoulders stiffened at his words.

"He's just... Billy," you decided on saying, deep sigh at the end of your statement. That was enough for him, a hum of agreement given.

Just as you opened your mouth to continue speaking on the matter, you caught sight of the man of the hour—Billy himself, leaning against a tree, making out with that same blonde girl from before. He pulled away as he heard the two of you, his lip turning up in disgust. The sight had you sick to your stomach, irritation peaking out of you.

"What the fuck, Harrington," he muttered to himself, slightly shoving the girl to the side. Her yelp of protest was lost amongst the three of you, Steve immediately perking up at Billy heading his way. "So now you think you can take my girl away from me?"

Rolling your eyes, you placed a hand on Steve's arm, beginning to pull him away from the scene. He was just as stubborn as Billy in that moment, feet digging into the dirt, sticking himself into place. You barely paid mind to the blonde girl scurrying off in the distance, avoiding the confrontation that was brewing amongst the trees.

"Last time I checked, you fucked up," you would like to think that Steve was confident in this matter, but you heard the shakiness behind his voice. His crown of Hawkins had long been knocked off when Billy Hargrove stepped into town, but now, it was a matter of showing face.

"Is that right?"

Billy gave a shove to Steve, sending him flying backwards, feet stumbling over each other as he tried to maintain his balance. You yelled at Billy, voice cracking through the air as this night had taken a turn for the worst.

"Leave him alone!"

The only reply you got was that stupid smirk from Billy, his tongue running over his lips as he balled his fist into Steve's shirt, pulling him to eye level. They were both fuming at this point, heavy breath leaving their chests, features turned up into an angry frown, eyes searching each other as they dared not to make the first move.

"Why don't you leave it, man?" Steve asked, shoving his fingers into Billy's shoulder. It flew back, but Billy stood his ground, eyebrow quirking up as he saw Steve's challenge.

He tossed Steve back yet again, a loud groan punched from his chest as his back hit a tree trunk, head clunking back against it. Your heart lurched in your chest, cringing at the impact he made. Now that it dawned on you, you could name several times where Steve had gotten his ass handed to him, a few times by Billy himself, the poor boy couldn't defend himself to save his life.

"Steve, come on. Let's just go," Your voice was shaky as you took a few steps towards the two teenage boys. Billy casted a glance towards you, a cut of his eyes that had you sinking back a few feet, returning to the spot you once had.

"Yeah, Steve," Billy teased, his voice raising a few octaves to imitate you. He grabbed the boy yet again, tossing him to the ground as he tried catching his breath that was knocked out of him. Steve rolled once, twice, before catching himself on his feet, standing up on shaky legs.

He was persistent, you could give it to him.

"It's not worth it," Steve shook his hair, leaves falling out of the mane. His teeth had caught his lip in the roll, a drop of blood staining his pearly white teeth.

It was like those words sobered Billy up, his back straightening as he zoned in on the other teenager. Stopping inches from him, he turned to look at you, giving you a once over as he processed the words. Your heart caught in your throat, you dared not speak—worried that your words would have him change his mind and further hurt Steve.

"You're right," Billy opted for, turning to give Steve one last shove. His foot stumbled over a tree branch, the final push sending him flying onto his ass, a loud oof leaving him. "She's not."

And with that, Billy was gone, stomping through the trees, a harsh shove given to you as his shoulder collided. You couldn't be bothered by the sting, your feet took you over to Steve before you could even think about it.

"Are you okay?" You rushed, running your hands over his body. You could pretend you were dusting off the leaves, but really you were checking for broken bones, bruised limbs, anything that might've gotten hurt in the assault.

He groaned, standing up slowly before using his thumb to wipe away the smudge of blood. Giving you a toothy grin, he wiggled his eyebrows at you, making light of the situation.

"I really showed him, huh?"

You wanted to scream at him, call him an idiot for even thinking it would be a good idea to take a stand against Billy. But all you could really do is laugh, your cheeks pulling into a smile as Steve began to lead you to his car in the clearing, only a few feet away from the site. The two of you walked in silence, uncomfortable swallows hidden by the crunching of the leaves, you blinking back tears as you looked through the throes of trees.

With a groan, he settled into the driver's seat, his face turning up in pain as he shifted uncomfortably.

"That doesn't sound okay," the worry in your voice was unmistakable. He gave you a look, pressing his keys into the ignition to start it up.

"I'm fine, just... stings a little," his fingers were shaking as he held the keys at the start up, a slight shift in his movements to the left. Your eyes looked at his clothed abdomen, frowning at his movements were drawing attention to that part of his body.

"Let me see," you whispered, fingers already reaching for him. He complained, voice raising as you leaned over, a loud chit from you to get him to quiet down.

Reclining in his seat, he let you raise his shirt up to expose his side, a deep bruise already forming where his ribs would be. A small gasp left your lips as you ran a finger over the area, his muscles flexing as he leaned away from the touch.

"Ah, careful," he whined through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut. It looked bad, but you knew that it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed.

“We should probably get you home,” you muttered, shaking your head as you recalled the events that happened. Typical Billy to get angry at something he started, not taking responsibility for any of his actions like normal.

Steve’s head turned towards you, wiggling his eyebrows as he processed the words that came from you. “Ooh, already?”

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him, patience leaving you as you realized what type of game he was playing. Coming from Billy, it was one thing, but you weren't too mad when it came to the brown haired boy in front of you.

"Steve." That stern tone returned, your teeth digging into the skin of your lip to prevent your smile from shining through.

"Okay, okay..." He laughed, putting his car in drive so the two of you could flee the scene. The soft sounds of the radio overtook any signs of a conversation between you two. Before you knew it, the familiar neighborhood streets of the town came into view. "Hey, I'm going to swing into my place real fast to grab a new shirt, and I'll drop you off?"

His words allowed the opportunity to make itself known, your eyebrows raising at a chance to get back at Billy.

"Or I could just crash at yours?"

Steve's head snapped towards you, the car stuttering as his foot his the brake briefly. Your hand shot out to press against the dash, the seat belt tightening across your chest.

You cleared your throat, "I just don't want you to drive... being injured and all."

A small smirk began to creep up on his face, his head nodding at your words. "Yeah, okay... because I'm injured... and all."

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning to look out of the window as he began to pull into his neighborhood. Your heart pounded in your chest, warning bells sounding off in your mind as you weren't sure if this was the worst decision you could make. Being the gentleman that he is, he helped you out of the car and into his house as if you were the one to take the beating from Billy.

His house was huge, barren as if it were a show room, a ghost of a house that was for display only. You chose to follow him upstairs, your feet dragging behind you as the events were catching up to you.

He made himself immediately comfortable, throwing his keys down on his bed, pulling off his sweater from his waistline.

You gasped slightly, turning to face the door as his bare abdomen was exposed. Staring wasn't your goal at the moment, not trying to make yourself so vulnerable in front of him. Cheeks burning, your face was crunched up as you searched for something to focus on.

"Jeez, relax," he laughed, a soft chuckle behind his words. "Didn't realize I didn't do it for you that much."

"It's not that... you just..." You turned back to him, grimacing at the dark bruise that was already beginning to form over his shoulder blade. Sighing, you crossed the room to him, reaching out to run your fingers over the muscle there. "He really hurt you."

Craning his neck to look over his shoulder, he frowned at the sliver of the mark in his gaze. The muscle was firm in your touch, flexing under your fingertips as you didn't dare to press any more into the skin.

Steve looked down into your eyes, the lighting allowing you to fully see the flecks of amber in his eyes. A small smile was on his lips, his eyes darting around the features on your face.

"Your boyfriend's a dick," he laughed, voice dropping an octave.

"Ex."

"Ex?"

"Mhmm," you nodded, your own eyes darting down to look at the crimson color on his lips.

It was silent for a moment before Steve leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. A perfect match, his own slotting into yours like they were made to be there. Slightly parting his lips, his tongue slipped into your mouth, staking claim against your own.

His hands were placed on your hips, rough fingertips dancing over the skin there. You took a few steps back as he walked forward, falling down on the plush bed as he towered over you. As the two of you fell together, you bounced on the mattress, Steve covering your frame.

Hissing slightly, he pulled away from your point of connection, his face turning up. Your hand reached up, palm encompassing his cheek.

"You okay?"

Nodding, Steve smiled again, soldiering through the pain that struck him in the lip. The cut gained from the fight had split again, bright crimson on the skin.

"Doesn't matter right now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He began to press them down the side of your face, one to the spot beneath your ear, the base of your neck, your collarbone.

You gasped slightly, fingers tangling in his hair as he began to trail lower and lower. He was pushing up the material of your clothing, exposing the expanse of your stomach. His mouth was warm against your skin, his cheeks becoming more and more flush as he reached lower.

He glanced up at you once he reached the material of your skirt, fingers itching to pull down the cotton, but hesitating once he saw the look on your face.

"Are you—is this okay?" He questioned, pressing another small kiss beneath your belly button. You nodded, spreading your legs so he could settle in between them. He made himself comfortable, his fingers sliding to the hem of it to push it up slightly. The white of your underwear was exposed, his eyes dropping down to look at it. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah, just—" You cut yourself off, tightening your fingers in his hair to pull at the brown locks. Groaning, his eyes fluttered shut.

A wave of wetness flowed between your thighs at this revelation, but that was something that could be explored later.

He gave you a small smirk before he pushed the skirt up to your waist. Your legs widened even more as he pressed his mouth to your clothed cunt, his tongue dampening the material. Breath caught in your throat, your eyebrows knitted together.

"Steve..." His name was choked out as he tongue began to run over you through your panties, the material becoming see-through in combination with your wetness.

His fingers reached to the waistband of the white cotton, pulling it down to expose your dripping cunt. Dragging them down your legs, you hitched a leg out to ease the way, curving it over the muscle of his shoulder.

Steve's eyes found yours as he let out a small blow of air on your clit, your muscles tensing as you arched your back at the feeling, hissing at the coolness. With a laugh, you tugged at his hair once more, causing him to groan out loud once more.

"Brat," he laughed at you in return, reaching up to run a finger down your slit. He collected the wetness there before pushing the digit in, instantly curling it against your spongy wall. Your back arched at the intrusion, your eyes fluttering shut at him.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he whispered to himself, pressing his mouth to your clit to suck at your clit. The feeling had you mewling, his tongue lapping down in addition to the thrusting of his finger.

The sounds coming out of your throat were lost in the room, Steve's own groans even louder than your own. His mouth parted further, tongue languidly running over your core.

Fingers tightening in his hair, you ground your hips against his face, knee curling up against his shoulder. It was heaven, what you found yourself in, a feeling you never felt before coming over you as he found himself home between your thighs. Your legs tightened around his head, pushing him even further into your heat as he licked at you.

Another finger slipped in, curling expertly alongside the other, that sweet spot inside of you having you quaking.

A particularly loud moan out of you had him removing his tongue from you, his eyes looking up through disheveled hair at you. Peaking open your eyes, you glanced down, almost fainting at how beautiful he looked between your legs.

He kissed your inner thigh, leaning his cheek against the skin, "Still good, hon?"

Taking a deep breath, you whined at the lack of contact, his fingers still inside you.

"Steve, please."

He rubbed his cheek against your thigh, fluttering his eyes down to look at his fingers inside of you. Moving them slowly, it had you breathless, your head thrown back against the pillows.

"I just want to-"

Kiss.

"-make sure you-"

Kiss.

"-feel good."

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you pulled at his hair once more, guiding his face between your thighs. He listened to you this time, tongue running over you with a fervor, eyes sliding shut as he finger fucked you.

Wet noises filled the air, your groans getting louder and louder as he guided you towards completion. His own hips were rutting against the comforter, dick tenting the jeans he had yet to take off.

White noise began to flood your senses, vision blurring, thighs quivering around him. He toyed with your clit with the tip of his tongue, moving in between flattening it and dipping it down to lick at your fluttering hole around his fingers. A wave of wetness pooled around the digits, them curling repeatedly against that sweet spot.

"Ste-" You tried gasping his name, barely giving him a warning before you came, legs drawing up as you pulsed around his fingers. He licked you through your orgasm, pleasure coursing through you as he was relentless.

Overstimulation took you over, your fingers pushing at his forehead as he tried keep his mouth on you.

With a small smirk, he backed away, tongue darting out to lick at the wetness on his mouth, his fingers slipping out of you.

"Well..." He said, shrugging as he sat back on his bed. You felt exposed suddenly, a blush crossing your features as you closed your legs.

Rolling your eyes, you sat up, covering yourself with your hands. "That wasn't even that-"

"You can stop lying now, babe," He laughed, leaning over you to press a kiss to your nose. You fell against the covers once more, reaching up to run a hand over his cheek. Fingers dancing over the injuries on his face, you bit your lip, leaning up to press your own kiss to him. "I'm not Billy."

Glancing down and away from him, you nodded, "You're definitely not him. That I know for sure."

His finger reached under your chin, guiding your eyes to look at him. The intimacy of the moment filled the room, your heart aching with an emotion you had yet to feel with anyone before.

"Well, tell me who you want me to be. I'll be him, and that much more," he whispered, slotting his mouth into yours once more. The kiss was brief, more chaste than it was previously, but so much more passionate than it was. You didn't know how to feel in the moment, but you knew his words were true.

Jeez, it has been a while since I've written anything, but I just want y'all to enjoy it. I can't wait to make a come back to the writing scene, and I have so many things planned. Also, those who have sent stuff in my inbox, I have not forgotten y'all. Trust me, it is coming. (Did I get inspiration for the last line from The Notebook? Yes, maybe I did. Shut up--it was my first time watching it last week.)

Masterlist. <3

[mangywayway]

I have been sick these recent days so get something cute and fluffy because yes, I think we all need something warm today 🧡

[harringroveera]

Steve: And I’ll trip you again until you admit it!

[unfinishedslurs]

RIP Mike Wheeler’s heterosexuality

“Is being gay contagious?”

Steve stares at his phone groggily before putting it back against his ear. “…Mike?”

“Is it?”

“It’s three in the fuckin’ morning is what it is.” He rubs his nose, Mike’s words finally catching up to his brain. “Seriously, Mike? No it’s not fucking contagious, you’re not gonna get the gay disease or whatever from me. I promise you’ll keep liking girls.”

He’s a little hurt, even though he knows the question is innocent. They’ve been asking a lot of questions, like the inquisitive little assholes they are, but none of them had seemed like they weren’t okay with it. Until now.

“…that’s not what I meant,” Mike says. Steve realizes that his voice sounds shaky, even over the phone.

“Then what—“ he cuts himself off, realizing halfway through his bitching that there was only one reason Mike would call about this. “Oh.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he repeats, even as he starts wondering where he left his keys. “Your mom…”

“Steve,” Mike pleads. “Please?”

He sighs. “I’m on my way.”

Mike is sitting on his doorstep when he pulls up, head in his hands. Steve doesn’t have to get out of the car, he stalks to the passenger door with all the vitriol of a boy with too many emotions to hold in, and wrenches the door open hard enough that Steve worries he’s going to break it.

“Watch it, noodle arms,” he says, trying to pretend this is normal. Maybe if he acts like it’s not well past midnight, Mike will relax.

It doesn’t work. Mike slumps in his seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. “Can you just drive?”

Steve drives. Doesn’t really know where they’re going, but it doesn’t matter. Just away seems to suffice.

He eventually pulls into a side road

“I’m scared to even touch another guy now! Because apparently hugging is gay when you’re older, and so is sleeping in the same bed, and telling your friends you love them, and…and I’m fucking scared all the time, ‘cause what if they’re right? How do they know? How can they tell by just fucking looking at me? It’s bullshit!”

“Shit, kid,” Steve says, heartbroken. “Shit. C’mere.”

He pulls him close, and Mike turns his face into the crook of his neck, shaking. His shirt collar starts to get damp.

“I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I thought it was normal, I thought everyone was just…so scared all the time, and we just didn’t talk about it. But then you said that thing about being afraid and pushing it down, and I didn’t— I tried to ignore it. I tried so hard not to think about it, Steve, I swear I tried.”

“I know you did,” he says quietly. It hits him that he might be the only one who really gets it. Eddie gave up denying it long ago, deciding to evolve into something else for them to focus on. Robin’s a girl. Which doesn’t mean jack shit in most cases, because being a lesbian fucking sucks in a town like Hawkins, but girls aren’t as obsessive about it. Sometimes when they compare notes, Robin will just stare at him.

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he mumbles tearfully into his shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve says with a surprising amount of vehemence. He grabs Mike by his scrawny little shoulders, pulls him away so he can look directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing, do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves a swift kick in the balls. Got it?”

Mike responds by bursting into loud, messy sobs.

Steve just keeps holding him, running a hand through his hair and soothing him gently, like he wishes someone had done for him or Robin or Eddie when they were young. Finally Mike pulls away, embarrassment starting to set in.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve asks instead of a meaningless platitude he knows Mike wouldn’t accept.

Mike gives him a suspicious look. “I guess.”

“I’m scared too. All the time.”

“No you’re not,” Mike snorts. “You don’t need to make me feel better just because I’m a pussy.”

“I’m not joking,” he says. “Why do you think I dated girls? Why do you think I went through so many lengths to hide it? It’s fucking terrifying, man. But you know what makes it less scary?”

“Dating girls? Marrying a woman?”

“No.” He pokes Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “People. Friends who love and accept you. Friends who know what you’re going through, even.”

“Do you…” Mike chews his lip. “Do you think Nancy would be okay with it? With me?”

“Absolutely I do. She was okay with me, wasn’t she? And I was her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your family, right? Sometimes people don’t care if someone is… people don’t care until it affects them. Do you think Nancy is like that?”

He knows Nancy isn’t like that, but that's a talk they’re going to have to have themselves. “I really don’t,” he encourages. “I think she’d be really glad to know this part of you, actually. She loves you.”

“…I know,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t… we made this dumb no secrets pact the first time the Upside-Down happened, I don’t know why. It’s stupid. But…I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”

[imavikingo]

[ickypuppi3]

# hint: don’t lie to a guy about the whereabouts of his kid stepsister

[vampire-scones]

I think, given the chance, Billy would absolutely drag Max to every single concert he went to. Sure it’s fun going to a concert and hooking up with guys or trying to weasel his way into backstage, but it pays off a whole lot more when he sees Max’s eyes go wide the first time she sees Motley Crue play.

When she feels the rumble or drums in her chest and gets her ears filled by shrill sounds of the guitar solo.

And he feels a bit of pride when he sees her mouthing or screaming along to songs she knows because she has heard them so many times in Billy’s car. And he sees the moment it clicks for her that, hey, this is pretty fucking cool.

Before the show, before every show they go to he gets her a patch from that band. Because he knows she won’t hang up the posters and she doesn’t really wear band shirts. So he gets her patches and buttons and maybe she doesn’t put them on anything for a while, because that’s not her style. But she still loves them just the same.

And it reminds her that in the end, Billy will always be there for her. That when the ground gets too rambunctious she can squeeze on his arm and he’ll pull her in front of him. Or if a weirdo is over stepping a boundary he will be the first one to throw a punch. Because at the end of the day, it’s the both of them against the world.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Regardless of how many times Eddie has made a complete ass of himself, he’s never let himself be perceived as soft.

It was easier when he lived with his uncle — the boys would come over for game night, or to rehearse for their next gig, and they wouldn’t ask him uneasy questions.

Even after he came out about his relationship.

For them, he assumed, it was out of sight and out of mind. Eddie still had loads of free time to dedicate to his friends, so there wasn’t really much to address.

The first incident happened on the three month anniversary of when he got together with his partners, which of course happened to fall on a night he had a session of D&D to attend. His request to push the game back until the next day was denied profusely until he shrugged and through gritted teeth said, painfully, that he would just have to miss the game if they wanted to carry on with it so badly.

So the game got pushed back. And when Eddie showed up that next day, he was greeted with an intervention rather than snacks and beer.

Ever since then, after the handful of ignored calls and cancelled band practices that followed, he’s mostly been able to skirt by with his friends without issue.

Then he had to go and move in with his boyfriends like some lovesick loser, as Gareth had put it when he first found out.

Eddie’s enjoyed the freedom of having a newer, slightly larger living space. He likes not having to go home and sleep alone, or sneak into someone else’s bed just to have to sneak back out before dawn.

It makes him feel soft, which makes him feel pathetic.

Which is why his skin is crawling at the thought of hosting in the new place for the first time.

He makes sure the fridge is stocked with beer, that there’s an array of snacks to choose from on the counter, and he has a selection of rentals from Family Video lying on the coffee table.

None of that stops the air from going tense and heavy when his friends show up.

They’ve abstained from asking questions about his relationship thus far, but the temptation must grow impossible to ignore when they step into the house and see evidence that it’s real. That Eddie moved all of his shit into another place and he’s serious about it.

That it’s clearly not just hooking up or whatever like he’s been saying for forever.

It’s for real and there’s the faint beat of water against tile from somewhere at the back of the house, the only noise aside from the stagnant tension in the air.

Eddie bounces his leg restlessly, tapping the neck of his beer bottle with his index finger as he stares down at the untouched tapes on the coffee table. Anxiously waiting for the inevitable.

“Where’re your guitars?” Gareth asks, and then clears his throat. “Thought you’d have ‘em hanging up in here.”

“They’re in the bedroom.”

Gareth nods. He’s slouching on the sofa, arm draped over the back of it as he looks around.

“Who picked out the fugly carpet and matching curtains?”

Eddie purses his lips when Grant and Jeff both snicker.

“Steve, uh, likes flannel.”

“Are those your posters?” Grant asks.

“Those are Billy’s, actually.” Eddie glances over at the wall behind the tv, featuring everything from Dolly Parton to Jimi Hendrix, and he spreads a little smile. “Well, the ABBA poster is Steve’s, but we keep telling him it’s not a permanent addition.”

“Where are your posters at?” Grant asks.

Eddie looks at him, perched next to Gareth on the couch, and nods his head toward the back of the house.

“Bedroom.”

“Do you have anything of yours out here? Or is it all in the room?” Jeff asks.

The question sounds accusatory. Eddie almost winces at the word bedroom, like referring to it as the room reinforces the fact that he shares a bed.

He would give almost anything for that little bit of information to not be processed. Hell, he’d give anything for this conversation to be over and done with.

It would save him the embarrassment.

“I mean, most of my shit was out of my room at Wayne’s, so it doesn’t really fit with the rest of the—“

“Why don’t you have the guitars out here? Seems kind of impractical to have them in your bedroom,” Gareth interrupts. “Not enough room to jam.”

Eddie swipes his thumb in a circle around the rim of his beer.

“Not really enough wall space.”

Jeff blows a raspberry and chuckles. The mismatched armchair that he’s sitting in almost looks like it’s about to swallow him whole.

“There’s a fucking decorative skateboard rack on the wall, but you couldn’t put your guitars up?”

“Oh, those aren’t decorative, Billy skates. He’s actually pretty g—“

“Did they at least let you help pick out furniture or anything?”

“Yeah, this stuff doesn’t really seem like it’s your style,” Grant adds.

Quickly, the three of them are attaching their inputs and observations together like train cars, one after the other, and Eddie’s vision goes hazy as he tunes them out.

Thinly-veiled insults here, passive aggression there.

Vaguely, in the background, the water stops running. How Eddie can still pick that up, he has no idea, but he can feel his ears quirk when the blow dryer starts whirring. Then his head is turning when he hears footsteps.

The chatter stops immediately when a figure emerges from the bedroom.

Steve pads out with a towel around his waist, hair wet and slicked back, and makes a direct line for the kitchen counter. Ignores the eyes that are lingering on him as he pulls a drawer open and unearths a pack of smokes and a lighter.

When he shakes a cigarette out and hastily lights it, pulling the smoke into his lungs, his eyes flick up to meet several gazes. All but Eddie turn their heads away.

Steve huffs amusedly. Drops everything back into the drawer and shuts it, crossing the small distance into the living room.

Eddie laments the fact that the blow dryer is still audibly running — Billy and Steve obviously showered together, and it makes Eddie want to go lie down in the street. Even more so when Steve comes to stand beside the recliner and Eddie’s eyes linger on the droplets of water dripping down his chest.

“Thought you were havin’ movie night,” Steve says, cigarette pinched between his lips.

He combs his fingers loosely into Eddie’s hair, and the other brunet exhales a stiff sigh as he tilts his head back to rest against the top of the recliner.

“We are,” Eddie says. “Giving a metaphorical, verbal tour of the house.”

Steve hums. Blows smoke through his nose and smiles, and Eddie swears he can feel the warmth of it on his skin.

“Well, be careful if you take a literal tour. I don’t think I’ll be able to wrangle Bill back into clothes tonight.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth with his free hand and leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead before he pulls away. It spurs a surge of unwelcome butterflies in the pit of Eddie’s stomach.

“‘Kay.”

Then Steve takes his leave, retreating back into the bedroom. Eddie’s gaze lingers on the cracked door, listening for the muffled sounds of arguing when Billy sees that his stash has been robbed. A little smile quirks at the corners of Eddie’s lips.

He almost forgets for a moment that he’s not at home with just his partners.

“What was that about?” Gareth asks.

Eddie returns his gaze to the sofa and quirks a brow.

“What was what about?”

“The way he came in here.”

A beat of silence passes. Eddie shrugs.

“I mean, we’re all guys, I didn’t think it was weird that he came out in a towel,” he says.

“No, the way he came in here to check on you. Right out of the shower, like he was jealous and couldn’t even bother to dry off first.”

Now, Eddie sputters out a laugh, but he sobers and clears his throat when all three of his friends fix him with nothing but serious expressions.

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Seemed like he was trying to signal that he didn’t want us here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Jeff adds. “Like, asking if it was movie night when he already knows? He was basically saying that if we don’t start a movie right away, we might as well leave.”

“Textbook manipulation,” Grant says.

Eddie can’t help that he laughs.

“Holy shit, is there a gas leak in here or something? What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

The three of them all exchange glances, and suddenly, he’s at that bullshit intervention again.

“First,” Gareth begins. Glances over his shoulder to ensure that no one else is listening before he turns back to Eddie, lowering his voice. “They don’t let you put any of your stuff up, and now they can’t even let you be alone with your friends for half an hour before one of them interrupts? How do you not see what they’re up to?”

“Yeah, Eddie, you need to remember your roots. We always hated people like them,” Grant says.

“Them?” Eddie huffs.

“Preps,” Jeff says. “And once a prep, always a prep. They’ll choose each other over the freak every time.”

While Eddie is stared at expectantly, he simply breathes. In and out. In and out. Listens to his blood running in the shells of his ears, like the distant sound of the ocean.

Thinks about how this is so much worse than it was last time, and he swears he can see himself in the third person, sitting in the recliner.

Each second that passes is two seconds lost.

“Did you guys, like, rehearse this before you came over?” he muses, though there’s no humor in his voice. “I mean, what the fuck are you even saying to me right now? That because the shit from my high school bedroom isn’t plastered all over the walls, and Steve gave me a kiss, that I’m in some kind of toxic environment? Do none of you realize how insane that sounds?”

“Dude, you’ve been calling whatever this is a fling and shit for the past like six months!”

Eddie shakes his head and tsks, sitting up and moving to the edge of his seat. About to say fuck it and kick them all out the front door.

“You just seem like you’re rushing in, and we don’t want you to get hurt,” Jeff says.

“Yeah,” Grant adds. “We’re telling you this because we care, man.”

Almost as if it’s by the flick of a switch, Eddie zaps back into his body, and he grits his teeth. Shoots up out of his seat and furrows his brows, veins fixing to pop if he so much as breathes too deep.

“Ever think that maybe I’ve been taking it seriously the whole time? Maybe I just didn’t talk about it in front of you guys because I didn’t want to get made fun of?” Eddie confesses. “I really… I really like my boys. I love them. I love waking up and getting to have morning cuddles with Billy while Steve makes pancakes, and I love the way our place is decorated. Maybe it says something about you guys that my fucking safe haven is with the preps, when you’re supposed to be my people.”

Eddie heaves a sigh once he’s done and sweeps a hand over his face, suddenly so drained that he isn’t sure how many counts he stares at the carpet for. Limbs shaking, heart thundering like he just ran ten miles.

When he looks up, all he sees are ghost-white faces staring back up at him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spies figures in the doorway of the bedroom.

He looks over, immediately flushing red.

Steve stands there in an ugly pair of plaid pajama pants, and Billy is behind him, shrouded in a white robe with the letter E embroidered on the collar.

Earlier, Eddie might’ve blown a fuse over the small detail, worried about how it implies that they share clothes, or worse, that they have three matching bathrobes with their initials on them. Right now, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

Not when both of them are looking at him with glassy eyes.

He stares, dumbfounded by what he just said for a long, long moment. Unsure if he’s sleeping on the couch tonight or if he’s getting the ride of his life once it’s lights out.

“Did you just say that you love us?” Steve rasps.

His chin trembles, and from behind him, Billy chuckles as he sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I did,” Eddie says.

Steve clears his throat and nods.

“I love you too,” he manages.

The tension relaxes out of Eddie’s shoulders, and he smiles as he sets his half-empty beer down on the coffee table.

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to pretend to be all stoic about it,” he says with a chuckle. “C’mere.”

Steve immediately crosses the room and moves into a hug when Eddie opens his arms around him, moisture overflowing his red-rimmed eyes. Steve is warm, and he smells fresh. Like clean laundry and sandalwood. Eddie holds him tighter and tucks his face into the bend where his shoulder meets his neck.

For a moment, it’s just the two of them. Eddie kisses his skin, and with every press, he hopes Steve hears the silent I’m sorry I waited so long that accompanies it.

Then Eddie rests his chin on his partner’s shoulder and sighs. Shifts his gaze to where Billy meanders into the room and stops behind the sofa, leaning his elbows against the back of it.

Suddenly, Eddie remembers that they aren’t alone, and the tension in the rest of the room is almost tangible outside of the little bubble he’s in.

Gareth, seated right in front of where Billy leans, is frozen in his seat. Doesn’t move, even when the blond reaches an arm down to touch the label of his vest and examine the closest pin.

Because even in the poofy white robe, with his curls fresh and fluffy, Billy breathes intimidation.

“I know about everything,” he says softly. Flicks playfully at the pin before he pulls his hand away, folding his arms and resting his chin atop them. Conversational. “If you keep it up, Corroded Coffin will be disbanded, and you’ll lose your dungeon master. Stevie advocates for Edd to hang out with you guys constantly, but I don’t fucking like you, and I don’t want you in my house if you’re gonna spew nothin’ but nonsense.”

Gareth, eyes wide, looks to Eddie. A silent plea for help, or for backup of any kind.

Eddie simply raises his eyebrows, hands smoothing over Steve’s back.

“If you don’t want me in your house… then why am I here?” Gareth asks.

“Because I ignored my gut even though I smelled bullshit, hoping to be proven wrong. Back talk me again and I’ll beat your skinny ass.” Billy chews his lip, mulling something over in silence for a moment. “Movie night’s cancelled.”

Steve sniffles and leans away from Eddie, his eyes mostly dry as he turns and fixes the blond with a tired look.

“Bill.”

When Billy simply holds up a finger, Steve rolls his eyes.

“And go ahead and give me twenty push-ups.”

“What?” Grant asks, looking to Eddie. “He’s joking, right?”

Eddie shrugs. Laces his arms around Steve’s waist from behind and leans into him, nosing fondly at his freshly-dried hair.

“I don’t personally know him to be funny.”

Billy chuckles at that.

“Drop and give me twenty or I drop you off in the middle of the woods naked, how ‘bout that?” he lilts. There’s a brief second of anticipation before Gareth decidedly slides out of his seat, and the others do the same. Billy hums in approval as they all get on all fours and assume the position. “No girl pushups, either, knees off the ground. And I’m gonna need an out-loud count.”

Gareth lowers his chest to the ground, arms already beginning to shake as he manages a strangled, “One…”

Jeff and Grant echo him. Billy pushes himself up away from the sofa and rounds the side of it, coming to stand beside the couple.

“Two…”

“I love you too, by the way,” Billy murmurs. Reaches up to brush his knuckles lightly against Eddie’s cheek before he leans in to meet him in a quick kiss. “Missed you in the shower.”

Eddie chuckles.

“Three…”

“It’s too cramped for all three of us in there.”

“Don’t care.”

Billy tilts into another kiss, his thumb tracing the cut of Eddie’s jaw all the while.

“I’m glad you like the way our place is decorated,” Steve says. “Dustin and Rob gave me so much shit when they came to help set stuff up.”

“Four…”

“I like the curtains and the rug… reminds me of sneaking into your old room,” Eddie says.

“That fucking wallpaper used to give me headaches, I’d only fuck in there if it was dark,” Billy snickers.

The three of them share a laugh. Then, Billy glances down at the floor and purses his lips when there’s silence.

“They made it to four,” Steve whispers.

“Just four? Pity.” Billy claps his hands together a few times. “Up, ladies, let’s go.”

The three boys on the floor push themselves up, faces flushed red. Gareth brings a hand up to his chest and rubs near his shoulder, walking warily toward the front door when Billy steps over to it and grabs the handle.

“Are you… are you really gonna take us to the woods naked?” he wonders.

Billy makes a face, like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, and pulls the door open.

“No, man, just go home. Get naked there if you want, I don’t care.”

At the words, Gareth and the others look confused, but they file outside anyway. Then Billy shuts the door behind them and locks the deadbolt before he sighs.

“You’re so mean,” Steve murmurs.

“I like assertive better,” Billy says. Closes in behind Eddie and sandwiches him between his partners, hands moving around their waists and pulling them back against him. “Plus, I wasn’t really gonna kick any of their asses. Unless you wanted me to.”

The last part is murmured softly into Eddie’s ear, and he gets goosebumps.

“Got the job done,” Eddie sighs. “I feel like I just came out for the first time again.”

“Give it a couple weeks, they’ll wanna come back again when they’ve had time to think about the stuff you said,” Steve reassures.

Eddie snorts.

“Maybe if we put Billy down for a nap before they come over.”

“Hey, I’m so nice until you upset one of my boys. Then I turn into Queen Bitch, and I go for the throat,” Billy huffs. Sets his chin in the crook of Eddie’s neck and pouts. “Also, fuck you, I’m funny.”

The brunet hums at that and tilts their heads together.

“I was kidding.”

“And I’m not a prep. If anything, it’d be me and you against him.”

Steve scoffs, and Eddie snickers.

“Hey, it’s us against the world, alright? Me and my lovers,” Eddie lilts.

He pinches softly at Steve’s sides, causing the other brunet to squirm away and pry himself free. Steve shakes his head amusedly and sits down on the sofa, grabbing one of the movies from the little stack and examining it.

Eddie leans further against Billy and smiles when big arms encase him.

“‘M sorry your movie night was a bust,” Billy murmurs.

“We can still watch something if you want,” Steve offers.

Big brown eyes gaze up at him, and Eddie chews his lip. Doesn’t push down the butterflies that start to swirl around in his tummy.

“Take your pic, princess.”

[findafight]

god i love when fics have steve experiencing insane things but being nonchalant about it bc he thinks it's normal when it absolutely is not. i like to think there have been multiple instances where other guys have been like psychosexually obsessed w steve so when billy starts acting like that steve's just like "ugh again?" like imagine if when he's dating eddie he's just casually like "god isn't it so annoying when other guys get like aggressively obsessed w you and stare at you all the time?" and eddie is sitting there chanting wtf in his head wondering how steve is a real human.

Ya I think it'd be very funny if kinda very strange things happen to Steve and he figures that it's just a normal thing. He'll be sitting around with people like hey y'all ever think about when you and your friends would dig a big hole and pretend to bury someone alive and hold a funeral for them and then they'd go home and tell your parents you died in the woods? When your mom ran into the forest she found you covered in flowers and dirt staring at the sky thinking about how cool it'd be to decompose into the ground she cried and it was probably the first time you saw a grown up cry? And every one is like uhhhhh no. Our friends did not actually fake our death semi successfully and scare our parents??? And he goes oh. Huh. Weird!

my HC is Robin is Steve first similar age friend that has not wanted to fuck him since eighth grade. This is funny because she has also never been normal about him. No one has ever been normal about Steve.

I think it's also very funny that Billy teamed up with Tommy, who you know has never been normal about Steve in his life. Like maybe when Steve was in middle school there was a guy who also was weirdly obsessed with Steve except he and Tommy viciously hated each other. Like straight up brawling and crying about it and Steve is there like what the fuck are you doing??? And Carol beside him just shaking her head going uhg Steve they're being gross let's leave.

But Tommy and Billy...They sniffed each other out or something idk how but they found each other and were obsessed with Steve together in a toxic positive feedback loop. And poor Steve is sitting here like "uhg 😑 Still? Another one? Why does this keep happening?" As though it's a completely regular occurrence. Bro. Buddy. What is your life actually.

Eddie finding out about this history and he's just like. No. Steve. I do not know what it's like to have men stare at me with thinly disguised lust?? But also keeping to himself that he was ALSO obsessed with Steve. He's like oooh my god. I'm not the only one?? The one thing I have in common with Tommy Hagan and Billy Hargrove is our weird obsession with Steve? What kinda world...

Except he's also immensely smug about it because yeah other guys have been obsessed with Steve. It seems to be a Hawkins right of passage for their age group. But Eddie actually got him. He fucking won.

[manwrre]

don’t ask me why but i have this THING where headcanon? my headcanon? is that billy just loves jewelry.

i fully believe that he had pendants upon pendants and chains and links of gold (real or otherwise) that he’s collected while growing up. maybe it was something that his mom did with him as a kid ie. they’d go to thrift stores and all of these little, rundown antique places and spend hours there— just looking for the prettiest things.

and if they were lucky, they’d return home with necklaces and earrings and other trinkets. and she’d string together the shiniest, most beautiful ones and give them to him; to her sweet, summer child. she’d press a kiss to his forehead and his cheeks and hold him close and they’d spend the rest of their time together showing of their purchases and doing try-on hauls.

and the necklaces? they were all dazzling in their own right but billy’s favorite one was a golden pendant, the size of a quarter and engraved with a semi-wonky ‘w’. his mama had found it hidden in the dingy back room of some store and in her haste to get them home, hadn’t even bought a chain. instead, she’d reached for the one around her own neck ( a delicate, long line of looping oooo’s) and had presented them to her boy.

and as he got older, his little collection only grew more or more; seashells and shark teeth, saints and angels, hearts and stars and butterflies. and of course, it pissed neil off to see him wearing them but his mom would only shoo him off and coo over all of billy’s newest additions.

in her absence, however, he’d begin hiding them from neil and tucking the shoebox of treasures into all sorts of nooks and crannies ( beneath loose floorboards and inside the fluff of his mattress).

but in the instances where he’d slip up and forget? in the moments where he’d get caught? neil would do his damndest to remind billy of just how much he looked like his ‘whore of a mother’ and that she, herself, couldn’t escape his violence.

the first time steve sees him wearing his necklaces, (all layered against the curve of his neck and dazzling atop his sun-kissed, freckling skin) he’d promptly lose his mind. i mean, just stop functioning like a human being and stare at him. he’d dream of kissing the hollow of billy’s throat and running his fingers over the odd shapes and letters. he’d splay his hands out across billy’s chest and take the ‘w’ into his fist— warm with evidence of a day spent in the sun. drink in the sight of billy beneath him. savor the blue of his eyes and the heat behind his smile. and think,

‘god, he’s beautiful.’

‘he’s bright and blinding and i can’t look away.’

‘he’s it— all i’ve ever wanted. he fills me with something so sweet, so warm.’

s w e e t , s w e e t ,

s u m m e r c h i l d

‘he’s the sun.’

[adelacreations]

Victorian Era AU where Billie Hargrove finds herself being hosted by Heath Holloway after her husband she had been married off to suddenly dies in a "house fire" and it's in the countryside

please consider Stevie Harrington, the heiress to the Harrington Family getting sent off to the family's summer home in the countryside until the scandal of her disaster of a engagement dies down and her family isn't AS embarrassed by the only thing

sapphic yearning of course and Victorian Era Upside Down bullshit cause WHY NOT

[passivenovember]

I’m just thinking about how Steve is so gangly and dim and earnest. And I just love the trope that at the root of of him, behind the jock mentality and the stupid Boyness of it all, Steve really believes that love is always going to win out in the end. And when he starts loving billy he maybe has a tiny freak out about it, but it washes away pretty fast under high crushing WAVES of feeling, and then he just loves. Hard and steadfast and he never looks back from it, not once.

It’s just like once he’s been in love with billy for a minute and he knows billy at least likes fucking him, if nothing else, Steve doesn’t understand why they can’t just be together. He gets the danger of it on a surface level but that is inconsequential to him because Steve is going to protect billy, because that’s what he does. It’s maybe a little naive, but it’s so earnest. And billy loves him for that

[hephaestn]

It’s been a long time since Steve left Hawkins behind, since he left the summer of 1985 tightly locked in a corner of his mind.

He was happy in New York City, loved his apartment with Robin, loved the friends he had made here, breathed and exhaled warmth for this city which had so caringly taken him in. But, he felt hollow some days, especially the days where that lock would loosen and the memories would come back.

They were happy memories, for the most part. He cherished those ones, the ones which still made him smile to himself in the middle of the street. Though, when the bad ones hit, it was still unbearable.

He couldn’t think of Billy, of the way he could still remember the taste of his lips, the shape of his waist underneath his hand. He couldn’t think of how Billy left him one night with only a note to remember him by.

I had to. I’m sorry.

Those five words were still imprinted in Steve’s mind, forever echoing even after being torn apart and thrown into the trash that very morning.

Steve doesn’t really know why today his thoughts have traveled back in time to sunny days and endless love making nights. He needs a distraction, whichever it might be.

That’s why he accepts to join Robin and her coworkers for dinner. They’ve chosen a tiny place which had just recently opened in Greenwich Village. It’s cozy; wooden furniture and fairy lights, black leather chairs and artsy painted walls. Steve likes it, feels calm in it.

All of Robin’s coworkers are nice, they keep up the conversation, always making sure Steve feels included, which he greatly appreciates. Dinner is incredible, probably one of the most tasteful meals he’s had in… years.

As a starter the waiter brings out an assortment of bruchette, each one topped by ingredients from all the parts of the world; Italy, Greece, Mexico, Thailand, Morocco. Steve can’t help but lick his fingers after each bite.

Main course is hearty; a fresh sea urchin pasta. It tastes like the sea, like the infinite summers he’d spend as a child in Positano with his parents.

They get asked if they’d like a second course which everyone at the table is quick to deny since they’re all full and ready to leave some room for dessert. The waiter tells them the last course and liquors will be presented to them by the chef which lifts whispers of curiosity amongst them all.

Steve is enjoying himself, laughing with Robin as she goes into extreme detail about her last failed date night. The thoughts have gone away, he’s free of them again, for a while at least. Until he sees him—white chef jacket, tight around his arms, his hair is tightly pulled back, leaving his face to shine under the warm light of the restaurant.

Steve’s vision goes blurry for a second, disconcerted by the shock, by the confusion of if this is really happening or not.

“Robin,” Billy says, and there’s a long pause. “Steve.”

He can feel Robin’s eyes on him, Billy’s eyes on him, but he can’t look at either of them, instead he buries his face in the glass of wine in front of him. The world seems to be crumbling around him, every person becoming faceless, every light in the room becoming distorted. His heart is pounding incessantly, looking for a way out of his chest.

Steve doesn’t really know how or why he does it but he looks up and meets Billy’s gaze. And, there’s something in his eyes, a mix of sorrow and longing Steve wasn’t prepared to face.

“So, uh.” Billy clears his throat. “Here we have, the Sailing Lovers. Eclair filled with a rose and elderberry crème pat with a glaze of Madagascar vanilla bean, accompanied by an Amaretto liqueur.”

Steve is entranced as Billy explains dessert, too in his own mind to notice the glisten in Billy’s eyes as he makes his way back into the kitchen.

[fizzigigsimmer]

This is so cute. Imagine professional dancers Harringrove. Billy's the one in the relationship who always gets carried away by the music and has to dance along. If a jam comes on he's liable to break out in a chorus and do a couple of spins right in the middle of the grocery isle. Back in school Steve would try and act cool, but now all Billy has to do is give him a certain look and Steve knows what time it is. Steve loves it, especially how pure Billy's joy is when Steve gets into it and surprises him with a dip or a lift.

[ickypuppi3]

# love is such a wonderful thing

[bigdumbbambieyes]

thinking about a modern au where Steve and Billy are contestants on The Bachelorette and they’ve never met before but they’re having their usual competitiveness (bc obviously) and halfway through the season (after resolving that sexual tension) they realize that they don’t really care about the girl that much and just up and quit bc what’s the point