#asexual billy hargrove

[dragonflylady77]

Ace Harringrove Fics

(a non-exhaustive list collated by me - DM if you have links to add)

Until I Nearly Lost You by @jad3w1ngs

Billy's got Ace Hardware by peterqpan 

Hard to Know Myself (trapped in my own head) by hazel1706

Upside Down Cupcakes by gideongrace

Like catnip by gideongrace

Deeper Than Skin by @neonponders

[Podfic] Lemon lovely by Djapchan 

Omega is King (series) by @neonponders

Ace Prompts (series) by KingsAndSaints 

I love you, I’m sorry by @catharrington

Linear Conversations by ohmybgosh 

To: Steve From: Your Secret Admirer by gideongrace

bite me by gideongrace

like canon but gayer 'verse (series) by gideongrace

About getting it (and NOT getting it ... get it?) by @ihni

[billyharringson]

I just love super touchy, huggy, kissy but completely platonic Argilly. Like maybe they grew up together and have never really seen anything wrong with showing their love for each other through touch. Argyle always found it weird that kisses were apparently supposed to be saved for romantic partners. If he wants to kiss his homies, he's gonna kiss his homies. He knows Billy is gay, Billy knows that Argyle is ace. It doesn't matter to either of them because they love each other so much. It's been one of Billy's cardinal rules, if whoever he's dating has an issue with the fact that he will straight up climb into Argyles lap to snuggle with him, or that Argyle often picked him up and spins him before pressing a kiss to his lips, then they won't be who he's seeing for very long.

[bisexualmultifandommess]

Today’s character is Steve Harrington!

Steve:

Since Steve grew up in the 70s and is currently in the 80s, he’s grown up in a time when labels for sexualities existed but weren’t commonly known especially since there’s no internet and he lives in a small town. He has also grown up in a era where lgbt wasn’t as accepted as it it is now.

Steve isn’t the most knowledgeable when it comes to Queer terms and only really started learning more about it after Robin came out to him. Before learning more he assumed that you either liked girls or boys which scared him a little when he started noticing that he was occasionally interested in men.

The first boy Steve ever had a crush on was Tommy. He remembered that when he was twelve they had a sleepover and whenever Tommy would nudge him or grab him while they were playing outside he would feel nervous but in a good way like he had butterflies. At the time this scared him a little and he convinced himself it wasn’t happening. He did, however, still remain friends with Tommy until their friendship broke apart in 1983. Steve never found out out that Tommy had feelings for him too because he eventually moved on from him.

Steve kissed a boy while on vacation once when he was around fourteen because they’d spent a lot of time together since their families were vacationing near each other and Steve had developed a small crush on him. He hadn’t realised it was a crush until they’d spent time together near a lake while exploring and both had kissed our of curiosity in a moment of piece while resting after swimming. The kiss was nice and it made Steve feel almost free but he also felt nervous. He didn’t bring it up once he was back in Hawkins since his parents wouldn’t accept it and he had no one else to talk to.

Steve was attracted to Billy though it was purely his looks because he found his personality awful. He felt nervous around Billy in both ways but always tried to remain snarky around him and act like he wasn’t bothered.

After learning about Robin he found that he learnt more about sexualities and was able to learn and understand what bisexuality is. He tried explaining one day to Robin that he wasn’t gay because he had genuinely loved Nancy and had even crushed on Robin before finding out she was gay and Robin had to explain that it was okay to like both men and women. This helped Steve a lot in accepting himself as he now knew a lot more.

Steve isn’t ready to come out yet to anyone but Robin because she’ll understand the most out of everyone but he still takes time to learn more on it not just for himself but to support Robin. Both of them once Steve starts feeling more comfortable talking about his sexuality talk about their crushes and who they find attractive.

Steve’s type is very much people with long and wavy hair. He also likes strong minded people, which is why he wasn’t surprised but still a little annoyed when he developed feelings for Eddie Munson. Although Eddie shares a lot of traits with most of his past crushes, Steve still finds him a little confusing and has an unrelated jealously about Dustin preferring him. Once he gets over that he starts seeing more positive things about Eddie.

Steve has had crushes on Tommy, Nancy, Robin, Billy, Eddie and many others.

Another Headcanon

This headcanon can go along with the other headcanons but I also see it on its own being the one that would most fit canon if they had ever decided to give Steve a lgbt storyline

Asexual - Steve has spent most of his teen years thinking that sex and his looks are very important to remain popular. He’s slept with a few women and gone on a few dates but never felt like any of it felt right. I think that Steve being asexual would fit him because I believe that he would be someone who does feel sexual attraction but not very often but in his teen years convinced himself that sex was the only important part of a relationship but it isn’t. His friends help him understand that he doesn’t need to have sex to have a fulfilling relationship and that if it’s something he wants he can but he doesn’t have much sexual desire.

This last one is more to fit canon and I mostly headcanon the ones above however I think being asexual fits Steve a lot and you can be asexual and bisexual.

[gttinyprincess]

Willing part 3 coming soon ^-^

I'm excited to write these two :D

[sweet-demiboi]

Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader (smut)

Warnings: Eddie is your bestie, steddie is a thing, Billy is still a bit of a newbie, you basically fight in sports class lol and fuck afterwards, top!dom!reader and definetly sub!bottom!Billy (he's a bit bitchy at first), hair pulling is mentioned, also m!reader's dick is in his ass, m!reader grabs Billy at the neck like once (not really choking though), many hickeys on Billy, unprotected sex (don't be stupid irl, this is just fiction), also kinda shower sex (also don't be stupid that way irl, if you slip it could end not very well), this can be read by poc Ig, but probably not asexual people or trans guys, sorry :/ (I do have other fics for you on my masterlist though, just read the warnings :)), also this is not proofread (yet) - Enjoy!

No Fem!Readers, please!

Your last lesson of the day was PE. It was okay, you were even good at it. Basketball was one of your favorite school sports although you had decided not to play on the school's team.

The guys there were more than a bit toxic and you really preferred your friendships with Eddie Munson and his group. They were a lot more relaxed and actually quite funny. They didn't like sports.

So, you weren't surprised as to find that Eddie wanted to skip this class again. But as soon as he told you that he would be going on a date with Steve Harrington (who was also skipping), you were all over the place. Excited and happy for him, plus you forced him to meet you afterwards and tell everything.

But now you would have to face the new student alone - Billy Hargrove, the guy who had risen to the top of the popularity scale over night. Not even Steve had done that.

Anyway, you came back from your world of thoughts and tried to focus on the game instead, which was starting right now. The only thing you had noticed was that it was basketball and you would have to play against Billy Hargrove.

God, have mercy. He was on the shirtless team. His body basically had you drooling all over the floor. How could a highschooler manage to be this pumped? You decided not to question it.

His body was about everything that was nice about Billy in this particular class, because he played in a way that made you so damn angry.

He was all grins and chuckles when he got the ball past you, blocked you with his whole body and its weight, would jump up so highly that you couldn't land a single shot and he was provoking you all the time.

"(Y/L/N), huh? They told me you were good at this, and thought to myself: that's nice, finally something that won't be boring around here. Seems like I was wrong"

"Would you just shut up and play?"

"'course"

Then he ran beside you, the ball in his hands. He winked. It was making you furious.

You felt your level of anger rise, your blood boil a little more with every ball he took away from you, with every grin, every comment, and every provocation.

Until you were playing just like him. You would dodge, block him, make comments, and were always visibly annoyed while doing so. Billy seemed as if he was enjoying to see those reactions from you, because he wasn't stopping but played a little harder, laughed a little louder, and smiled a little wider.

The tension between you two was building as well. It got kind of hot, and not because of the temperature, it was rather all the looks you shared, when your bodies pressed against each other or when your breath hit each other's skin.

Then Billy pushed you in hope to get you down, which you did. The adrenaline though gave you enough energy to roll over, get up again, snatch the ball away from him and score.

Now he wasn't as amused as before, which made you grin this time.

"Took your mouth too full, Hargrove?"

"You wish"

At this point you were able to identify the tension as clearly sexual, at least it was for you. Of course, Billy was hot, but also this way he was behaving and playing did something to you. But maybe you were just overinterpreting the whole situation.

At the end of this class you were littered in bruises and scratches. Your teacher wanted to talk to you and Billy as well. He didn't seem quite so happy about how you had played.

"When I said I wanted a fair game, this wasn't what I meant!", he looked furious at both of you "Next time, I want to see none of what happened today! Did you understand that?"

"Yes, coatch", both of you mumbled

"Good! Now apologise to each other!"

You looked Billy in the eyes, which were a nice ocean blue color, and shook his hand "Sorry", you heard a sorry for you as well, but you didn't really care. Teachers should know that their students weren't as serious as they might thought they were in such moments.

When you got back to the changing rooms you were the only one's left behind. You didn't talk, just stripped wordless and got under the shower streams.

When you had your head under water Billy started to talk "Did you really think you were better than me?"

You sighed, not wanting to answer, but you could feel the tension from before bubbling up again. As well as your annoyance. It was the end of the school day after all, you were already exhausted - PE had given you the rest, paired with Billy's rather aggressive way of playing.

"Did you think you could win that game?"

He was really close to you, under the shower right next to your own. You could feel goosebumps spreading over your back, of which you hoped he didn't notice.

Billy let out a low chuckle "Well, (Y/L/N), you will be met by reality-"

You didn't let him finish, but pushed him against the wall, pressing your lips on his, hands already on his waist.

You could feel him getting turned on immediately - he kissed you back roughly, opened his legs, and put his hands in your hair. Also he was moaning into your mouth like a whore.

You let your hands roam his body, his chest, waist, shoulders, back, every bit of skin you could reach. When you started massaging his cock, Billy broke the kiss, and moaned against your neck.

"God, just fuck me already", he demanded.

You grinned at him, at which he just grunted "Don't try tellin' me you didn't notice that tension"

"Oh, I won't", your lips were on his as quickly as your fingers were inside him. He was tensed and thight, but also really warm and already wet from shwoering. After a few minutes you decided that he was ready to take all of you, so you pushed your own dick inside of him.

Billy's moan at that was long and stretched, you slammed your hand against his mouth "Do you want the coach to hear us?", he only looked at you with a lazy gaze and it was clear that he was in another world right now.

You started to rock your hips until you had a steady rhythm. God, he felt so good around you, mentally you were on cloud nine. His skin was so hot against your own and all his moans and whines sounded as if you were doing a really good job.

Except for his comments - he was provocating you again:

"Can't do it harder, (Y/L/N), huh?"

"Wow, I didn't know a guy can go this slow"

"You wanna finish me off, or what is this?"

Something inside you snapped. You gripped him roughly getting Billy to groan, and then fucked him as hard as you could. He had been too bitchy for you to be nice to him. But honestly, you didn't think Billy minded the current circumstances that much considering how loudly he was moaning in pleasure.

He was so submissive right now, you had never seen him like that before, but you absolutely loved it. Hot skin against yours, hair to grip with your hand, an arched back and a boy moaning like a bitch, cockdrunk because of you. What more could you want?

"P-please", he whimpered.

"Please what?", your voice, surprisingly, even to you, was firm and your words clear to understand even though your mind was clouded with lust just as much as Billy's.

"Please, let me come", he sounded so whiny, you almost chuckled.

"No."

And then you let yourself get lost in pleasure, coming inside him, which was what you had wanted all along. This made the whole session much more enjoyable for Billy as well, (he secretly loved it when he could get a top to come inside him, but don't tell him I spilled that).

Now, all he wanted was his own release. His dick almost ached from all the arousal he felt, it was already leaking so much precum. But Billy wouldn't touch it for the life of him. He wanted to be good for you.

"Aw, poor boy", you grabbed his neck, pulling his back into your chest "You wanna come so bad?"

"Y-yes"

"Then beg."

Fine. Then, Billy supposed, he would do that. He really was at your mercy right now, even though he hated it (but not really).

"Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad, please let me come"

"God, you're sexy when you beg." - Source for this sentence: TikTok

You were kissing his neck, sucking bright red hickeys into his skin and you could feel and hear how much Billy loved that. He leaned his head to the side, giving you more skin to work with, he moaned, and pushed your head with one hand in your hair.

Slowly, you started to turn him around, his back against the tiles of the locker room's showers to give him more hickeys, this time wandering from his neck to his collar bones, chest and stomach until you were sucking at his hipbone, Billy's moans had gotten weak. Some tears were running over his cheeks from all the stimulation and pleasure.

"I'll make you come.", you said, kneeling before him already.

"God, fuck- yes, please", Billy pressed the back of his hand against his lips when you started to smirk "Good boy" He was, to no surprise, such a slut for praise, you figured when his blue eyes landed on yours in an instant. With your smirk only growing you started to suck on his pink, swollen tip.

At this point, Billy was only capable of groaning, but his hand found its way into your hair, when he came down your throat, a silent plea for you to swallow, which you did. He kind of earned it.

When you got back up again, you grabbed him and you rinsed off together. Billy was still in a headspace, in which he was glad about anything kissing-related, so you guys were basically making out under the water. It was a very nice finish to the rather rough fucking from before, which you both enjoyed.

You dried off and put clothes back on wordlessly, but not missing each other's tired smiles. You shouldered your backpack when Billy got over to the mirror to fix his hair.

He groaned "You're so dead, (Y/L/N)."

There were hickeys EVERYWHERE, on his neck, trailing their way under his shirt and due to Billy never buttoning it up, one could see that they even went under his pants.

You just chuckled, coming up behind him, and pressed your body against his back, closing your arms around his middle. Your eyes met his in the mirror.

"But you look so pretty like this", your hand caressed a bit of the red skin "Now, nobody's gonna snatch you away from me, hun"

You kissed his cheek and got out of the locker room, leaving Billy there. You were already excited to how he would show up tomorrow and how this would continue. You were almost certain that Hargrove wouldn't leave it at that.

[thatgirlwithasquid]

Happy International Asexuality Day! 🖤🤍💜

Wishing all ace-spec people the best today (and every day), from one asexual to another. Here are a few st ace headcanons that I find fun, even if not all of them are my main ones lol :)

Flag explanations:

Chrissy Cunningham

Cupiosexual. Lack of sexual attraction but a desire for sexual relationships.

Eleven Hopper

Quoisexual. Don’t relate to/understand concepts of sexual attraction and orientation.

Carol Perkins

Aroace. Both aromantic and asexual.

Billy Hargrove

Graysexual. Someone who falls somewhere on the spectrum between asexual and allosexual.

Steve Harrington

Requissexual. Limited or no sexual attraction due to emotional exhaustion.

All ace microlabels are valid and important and I love you all. Yes, even the ones some people might find silly. Whatever labels bring you comfort are amazing.

The urge to find someone to make sex-repulsed or aegosexual for projection reasons was strong lmao. Maybe in the future :)

[fablesuntold]

The Either or Game

bold/italicise which applies to your muse

Muse: Billy Hargrove.

pessmist / optimist

villain / hero (In between. While Billy is a jerk, he’s not evil��� just a kid who was twisted up by his abusive father.)

tears / stoicism (Even though he does shed a tear or two whenever alone)

sci-fi / fantasy

ocean / forest

vengeance / justice

straight / queer (Closeted bisexual)

console / pc

city rat / country mouse

kinky / vanilla

minimalism / maximalism

silence / communication

faithfulness / infidelity

alcohol / sobreity

extrovert / introvert

single / taken

victim / perpetrator (Both)

awkward / smooth

sunrise / sunset

manga / anime

anxious / carefree

apartment / house

masochist / sadist (Both)

iphone / android (Neither. It’s the 80s bro—)

sweet / savoury

morning bird / night owl

neurodivergent / neurotypical

comic book / novel

clubbing / staying in

monogamous / polyamorous

knife / gun

sexual / asexual

smoking / no smoking

standoffish / approachable

natural / dyed

medicated / unmedicated

shy / confident

[ten-opinions]

“Billy fans only like him because he’s hot!”

…I’m asexual. Questioning demiromantic. I fall under the AroAce umbrella. I quite literally don’t feel attraction in that manner. I can’t perceive people as being “hot” or not. I do not find Billy Hargrove “hot” because, in my eyes, no one is.

Did you know that by saying this, you’re implying all Billy fans are allo, which is a-spec erasure and aphobic? Even if you didn’t mean it like that, that’s what it is. Maybe you need to think about what that says about you before worrying about strangers on the internet.

[beansthebylershipper]

my stranger things character sexuality headcanons

Will Byers: Gay (canon), Demiromantic, Asexual

Mike Wheeler: Gay, Demisexual

El Hopper: Panromantic, (or maybe Aromantic) Asexual, Polyamous (?)

Max Mayfield: Bisexual, Polyamous

Lucas Sinclair: Bisexual or unlabelled, Polyamous (?)

Dustin Henderson: Straight (ally), Asexual

Erica Sinclair: Aromantic, Asexual

Steve Harrington: Bisexual

Jonathan Byers: Omnisexual (preference for women), Demisexual

Nancy Wheeler: Bisexual

Robin Buckley: Lesbian (canon)

Eddie Munson: Gay, Greysexual

Argyle: Pansexual, Asexual

Billy Hargrove: Bisexual

One/Henry: Straight, Asexual

Joyce Byers: Straight (huge ally)

Jim Hopper: Straight (ally), Mikephobic (‘STOP DATING MY KIDS WHEELER’)

Murray Bauman: Gay

I’m probably forgetting someone but yeah, rb with your headcanons for them <3

[billyharringson]

I keep forgetting to post about my fics!

Anyway, here is a Stargilly fic that was going to be a short-ish one-shot and then ended up being 7.5k

Lessons in brat taming

Rating: Explicit

Additional tags: Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dom Argyle (Stranger Things), Sub Billy Hargrove, Dom Steve Harrington, Switch Steve Harrington, Choking, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, Billy Hargrove Has an Oral Fixation, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Brat Billy Hargrove, Threesome - M/M/M, Asexual Argyle, Gay Billy Hargrove, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Voyeurism, Spanking, Punishment, Public Scene, BDSM

Summary: Ever since Argyle had moved to Hawkins, Billy had changed. At least in Steve’s eyes. And it wasn’t a change he was complaining about, far from it. He was calmer now, he smiled and laughed more genuinely, even his posture seemed more relaxed. Steve had initially chalked this up to the heady floral scent that always followed Argyle around, but now he wondered if it was just because Argyle was Billy’s childhood friend.

Or Steve notices the way Argyle manages to keep Billy calm and is invited to join.

AO3:

[virginburial]

🎙 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

ALL ABOUT BOUNDARIES AND RULES!

BOUNDARIES ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this blog is 18+ !! I will not interact if you do not have your age in your bio or not anywhere on your profile; this is for safety reasons! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ please do not send me sexts or nudes in my request or message box! This is a fanfic blog, not a roleplay/personal blog of any kind!! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ please do not request anything that includes my triggers ( listed below ). ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ please do not message me personally unless we are mutuals ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I am a full-time college student so there might be long breaks in between fics.

RULES ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ please do not request when request box is closed! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ please do not request characters with actors under the age of 18 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ please do not request real people and celebrities ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ please do not request an asexual character ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not spam my request box with the same prompt! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ as awkward as it is, we smut writers do thrive on our anon's requests being as detailed as possible! don't hold back cus I've definitely heard and read worse. ❥ please specify if you'd like a full fic or a blurb!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ TRIGGERS m*ss shootings, gun violence, csa, cocsa

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CHARACTERS I WILL NOT BE WRITING FOR! Billy Hargrove, Five Hargreeves, Tate Langdon, Yelena Bakalova, Alaric Saltzman, Barry Allen, any character played by Jack Dylan Grazer, any character played by Jack Champion before Scream 6, all characters from films like The Black Phone and Fear Street, Peggy Carter, spiderman homecoming peter parker, and Ward Cameron.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ KINKS THAT I WILL NOT WRITE! age play, pet play, any kind of play that includes bodily fluids or waste, and gunplay

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ KINKS I WILL WRITE! knife play, wax play, degradation, daddy/mommy kink, choking, being tied up, cnc, somnophilia, etc, anything not mentioned above.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[funkymanfunkytown]

my stranger things sexuality/dating headcanons!! you don't have to agree, just please respect at least broski girlie

mike wheeler - bisexual, single, cisgender

will byers - homosexual, single, cisgender

eleven hopper - pansexual, non binary, dating lucas

lucas sinclair - bisexual, cisgender, dating eleven

dustin henderson - pansexual, bigender, dating suzie

max mayfield - bisexual, cisgender, single

suzie bingham - cishet supporter, dating dustin

erica sinclair - omnisexual, cisgender, single

nancy wheeler - bisexual, cisgender, single

jonathan byers - asexual, omniromantic, cisgender, platonically dating argyle

steve harrington - bisexual, cisgender, dating billy and eddie

robin buckley - lesbian, demigirl, dating vickie

billy hargrove - homosexual, cisgender, dating steve and eddie

eddie munson - bisexual, demiboy, dating steve and billy

argyle - pansexual, cisgender, platonically dating jonathan romantically dating eden

eden bingham - pansexual, non binary, dating argyle

vickie - sapphic, cisgender, dating robin

chrissy cunningham - bisexual, cisgender, dating unknown character that is not stupid 🙄jason🙄

🙄jason carver🙄 - cishet, single

joyce byers - bisexual, cisgender, married to jim, widowed to bob????

jim hopper - cishet supporter, married to joyce

murray bauman - homosexual, single (only friends with alexei)

dmitri antonov - cishet doesnt-really-know-much-about-homosexuality-but-supports-it, married to unknown character

alexei - same as above, single

martin brenner - cishet supporter, married to old person ig idk

henry creel / vecna / one - pansexual asf, pangender, single (duh)

karen wheeler - closeted to all but nancy, bisexual, milf, married to ted (not actually in love but doesn't want to hurt the kids)

ted wheeler - homophobic trump supporter, married to karen (actually in love)

bob newby - cishet supporter 💗💗, (was) dating joyce/dead/ widowed?????

sam owens - homosexual (don't ask questions), cisgender, married to unknown man

"quote unquote" extras

scott clarke - homosexual, transgender (fem to masc), married and didn't actually love that girl from season... 3 (?) that was at his house

kali prasad - lesbian, transgender mtf, single

heather holloway - lesbian, cisgender, dating unknown female

benny hammond my beloved - cishet supporter, single

angela - bisexual (shitty people can be lgbt+ aswell), genderfluid, single

wayne munson - unlabeled, single

yuri ismaylov - homosexual, cisgender, single

[broodingmystery]

Teen Wolf;

Derek Hale-Werewolf-35-Single-Demisexual/Pansexual Young Derek Hale-Werewolf-18/21-Single-Pansexual Eli Hale-Werewolf-18-Single-Bisexual Peter Hale-Werewolf-35-Single-Bisexual Young Peter Hale-Werewolf-18/21-Taken-Bisexual/Polyamorous Lydia Martin-Banshee-18/21-Single-Bisexual/Polyamorous Theo Raeken-Chimera-18/21-Single-Demisexual/Bisexual Jordan Parrish-Hellhound-34-Single-Bisexual Talia Hale-Werewolf-55-Single-Pansexual

Original Characters;

Dericka Hale-Werewolf-33-Single-Pansexual Young Dericka Hale-Werewolf-18/21-Single-PansexualMarzena Stilinski-Human-18/28-Single-PansexualRebecca Lewis-Human-22-Single-Bisexual

The Originals;

Niklaus Mikaelson-Hybrid-1034-Single-Bisexual Kol Mikaelson-Witch-1000-Single-Bisexual

Bitten;

Nicholas Sorrentino-Werewolf-35-Single-Bisexual

The Vampire Diaries;

Malachai Parker-Heretic-49-Single-Demisexual/Asexual Tyler Lockwood-Hybrid-29-Single-Bisexual

Supernatural;

Dean Winchester-Human-42-Single-Bisexual (Closeted) Castiel-Angel-Ancient-Single-Pansexual Benjamin Lafitte-Vampire-141-Single-Pansexual

Marvel;

Tony Stark-Human-51-Single-Bisexual Eddie Brock/Venom-Human/Symbiote-36-Single-Pansexual/Polyamorous Wade Wilson-Mutate-47-Single-Bisexual/Polyamorous Peter Parker (Peter 3)-Mutate-22-Single-Bisexual/Polyamorous James ‘Bucky’ Barnes-Super Soldier-105-Single-Bisexual Steve Rogers-Super Soldier-104-SingleBisexual Loki Laufeyson/Laufeydottir-Frost Giant-1054-Single-Genderfluid/Pansexual

Shadow and Bone;

Aleksander Morozova-Grisha-Ancient-Single-Pansexual

Sons Of Anarchy;

Jackson ‘Jax’ Teller-Human-44-Single-Bisexual (Closeted) Harry ‘Opie’ Winstion-Human-44-Single-Straight Juan Carlos ’Juice’ Ortiz-Human-37-Single-Bisexual Happy Lowman-Human-50-Single-Straight Wendy Case-Human-39-Single/Divorced-Bisexual

Mayans MC;

Angel Reyes-Human-37-Single-Straight Manny-Human-39-Single-Bisexual Nails-Human-25-Single-Bisexual

Stranger Things;

Billy Hargrove-Human-20-Single-Straight (Closeted Bisexual) Steve Harrington-Human-20-Single-Bisiexual Eddie Munson- Human-20-Single-Bisiexual Chrissy Cunningham-Human-19-Single-Bisexual Henry Creel/001-Unknown-75-Single-Pansexual James Hopper-Human-45-Divorced/Single-Bisexual Gareth-Human-18-Single-Bisexual Karen Wheeler-Human-34-Single/Divorced-Bicurious Max Mayfield-Human-19-Single-Bisexual

Scream;

Billy Loomis-Human-18/35-Single-Bisexual Samantha Carpenter Loomis-Human-24-Single-Bisexual

[ihni]

Gonna rec a couple of ones with Billy Hargrove, because why not.

Asexual Billy, not aromantic:

The Tragedy of the Siren's Song (Harringroveson, WIP) by @billyharringson

Billy's got Ace Hardware (Harringrove, oneshot) by @platypanthewriter

it's only sex (Harringrove, oneshot) by @psychicwarfarebaby

Upside Down Cupcakes (Harringrove, chaptered & finished) by @gideongrace

About getting it (and NOT getting it ... get it?) (Harringrove, oneshot) by ME, actually (consider this shameless self-promotion)

Aromantic Billy, not asexual:

take what you can get (Harringrove, WIP) by TrialsAndErrors

¿Por qué no los dos? (Harringroveson, chaptered & finished) by @robthegoodfellow

I know it's kinda selfish, but can I have one asexual character that isn't aromantic? One who stands up and says that you can love without sex, and that they deserve love without having to engaging in something they prefer not to?

Also a aromantic character that isn't asexual? One who doesn't feel guilt about needing and wanting people, but not seeking a romantic relationship with them? One that is open and proud, and in no way ashamed for their lack of love and need of sex?

Please?

[bowiebond]

I will write so much outrageous porn involving Billy but at my core I am an ace-spec Billy lover.

That boy has hypersexuality due to trauma and once he’s free of the constant scrutiny of his father he realises he…doesn’t care for it. Never has. He used it to get off, to get out of his shitty life for a few hours, but if someone said he couldn’t have sex for the rest of his life…he’d feel fucking relieved.

He would live his life surfing, rocking out and adoring his small group of friends. He’d go on dates and kiss them at the door without the expectation of more. He’d stay in with his lover and just hold them while they watched TV.

He’d use his body like it was just that; a body, a vessel to get him places instead of a thing to objectify and doll up with the intent of impressing potential partners.

His body would be entirely his own for the first time in forever and god, he’s never wanted anything more.

🖤💜🤍 Asexual Billy 🤍💜🖤

[magniloquent-raven]

i wanted to write an ace billy ficlet for ace week but it ended up being longer than i thought it would be and so took me too long to write lol, but here yall go! belatedly! billy having a lot of feelings about being ace that definitely weren't just me projecting!! pls enjoy

tag list peeps @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful

(read on ao3)

🖤🤍💜

Billy knocks back another shot. There's a speaker hanging on the wall next to him pumping out tinny dance beats so loudly he can feel his molars vibrate. Every high note is a spike through his brain, but at least he can use the music as an excuse to ignore the conversations going on around him.

He used to be good at this shit. Crowds. Drunken strangers. Flirting with anyone who looked at him twice. He made sure he was good at it.

But, well. Shit happens. Monsters happened. A shadow reaching into his brain and pulling him apart piece by piece, cold fingers gripping his spine and pulling him around like a marionette. Blood on his hands. It changes a person.

And so does falling in love.

He throws back another mouthful of tequila.

He lost track of time four shots ago, but it feels like he’s been here all night. The longer he sits around scanning nondescript bodies—trying and failing to find any of it interesting—the more he drinks, hoping maybe, maybe something will happen. Like he just needs half a bottle of tequila in his system to unlock that special something everyone always insists they can feel. Some days it’s hard to decide if he wants to believe everyone’s just lying to him, that he isn’t missing anything, it’s all just a big fucking con.

But some days the absence is an unmistakable void.

I swear to god, Billy, could you just find someone to suck your dick or something and stop being such a goddamn prick all the time?

He knows Steve regretted saying it the second it was out of his mouth, even if he didn’t know the full extent of what he’d just done. He doesn’t know that the last time Billy had someone’s mouth near his junk was back in California, right before his father beat him within an inch of his life. Or that it was in no way worth almost dying for, because he didn’t even know the guy and he had to smoke way too much pot to even get in the frame of mind where he could get hard in front of someone else.

So, Billy knows that Steve wouldn’t have said what he said if he knew. He puts his foot in it sometimes but his heart is always in the right place.

But...still. Billy couldn’t reason away his anger. Or how much it hurt. So he did what he always does when he’s hurting. Drag everyone down with him.

He’s not proud of the shit he said to Steve, but it’s almost worse that he couldn’t even handle being in their apartment afterwards. That now he’s here, of all places. Ironically, trying to take Steve’s advice.

Because maybe this time it’ll be different.

But every man that’s approached him as made his stomach turn sour with an anxious sort of disgust at the thought of any of them touching him. Only one was bold enough to try anything, and as much as Billy tried to allow the intrusion, his body rebelled against him, shoving the man away when his fingertips brushed Billy’s waistband suggestively.

Somewhere in the drunken fog clouding his brain he realizes that people seem to be avoiding him at this point. It would be a relief if not for the horrible little voice in his head reminding him that he’ll have to go home if he can’t find anyone to fuck him.

He drums his fingers on the sticky counter and tries to get his shit together. At least enough to bat his eyelashes at the least repulsive guy he can find and put his self-loathing on hold long enough to seal the deal.

It’s starting to look like a losing battle.

“Hargrove?”

His back stiffens, gaze darting to the side, to the familiar voice he almost didn’t hear over the music, just to make sure he was wrong, but—

“...Buckley.”

She’s leaning against the bar, eyeliner more smudged than usual, dirty blonde hair escaping her ponytail in frizzy waves, some girl Billy doesn’t recognize clutching her elbow..

It takes him a second. Squinting at their blurry outlines in the low light, flashes of neon reflecting off Robin’s silver bracelets, the other girl’s heavy lip gloss, casting odd shadows that make their expressions hard to read. They’re so in each others’ space that their silhouettes merge together.

A beat too late it clicks. Even drunk as he is, he can put two and two together.

He blinks at their linked hands. “Well. That explains...things.” Namely the fact that her and Steve never dated. They always looked suspiciously uncomfortable whenever strangers assumed they were together, and Steve would never explain when Billy asked. It’s one thing to not be into her, dodging the question whenever it was brought up set off alarm bells in Billy’s head. “Does Steve know?”

“Of course that’s the first thing you’d—” She’s halfway through rolling her eyes when she stops, blinking at the ceiling, before her gaze falls back to him with a new kind of intensity. “Holy shit. You like hi—”

“No I don’t.”

Shit. Goddamnit. Could’ve at least let her finish her sentence before covering his ass with the least believable lie of all time. There wasn’t much hope for him to begin with, but there’ll be no stopping her now.

Billy winces.

“Jesus Christ. Holy shit, Hargrove.”

He drops his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes like that’ll make him less drunk and thrown off balance. “Could you fuckin’. Drop it, maybe. Leave it alone. I’m not in the fuckin’ mood,” he snaps.

“Why, did something happen?” She narrows her eyes. “What did you do?”

Robin’s date tugs on her sleeve and raises an aggressively plucked eyebrow. “Who’s Steve?”

“My best friend,” Robin responds without looking away from Billy, at the same time Billy says,

“No one.”

Robin huffs at him.

The girl casts a suspicious glance at Billy. “...Kay,” she lets go of Robin’s arm, and turns to her. “I’m going to get another drink, do you want anything?”

“I, um.” Robin meets her eyes this time, and they exchange a look that Billy doesn’t even try to parse. The lighting is giving him a headache and he’s not fucking interested in whatever’s going on there. “No. Thanks.”

She walks off without another word, curls bouncing as she dodges through the queue gathering around the sole, overworked bartender. “Rude…” Billy mutters without heat, tracing the rim of an empty shot glass with his pinky.

“Like you need any more to drink.”

He shrugs.

“Billy…” She pauses, biting her lips together, brow furrowed as she studies him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What does it fucking look like,” he says flatly, throwing his hand up in a wide, sarcastic, sweeping motion. He lets it fall back to the bar with a dull thud.

“It looks like you’re being an asshole for no goddamn reason. And, Jesus, you smell like a frat house.”

“Would you fuck off,” he groans, turning to her fully. The stool he’s perched on creaks, pleather seat squeaking as he shifts around. It feels wobbly under his weight, and he presses a hand to the bar to steady himself. Robin’s arms are crossed. He sneers at her. “I’m not interested in whatever this is, alright. Go bitch at someone who cares.”

She purses her lips. He almost wants her to fight with him, just so he’ll have somewhere to vent his frustrations, but she just turns away with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. He watches her retreating figuring with a pit in his stomach.

Christ, this is fucking pathetic.

The room spins a little when he stands up, but he powers through, letting the density of the crowd around him hold him up, leaning a little too heavily into it as he pushes people aside. He gets more than one dirty look, and a couple sharp cries of surprise that he pretends not to hear.

This place at least has a decent bathroom, for a club. Clean-ish. Lights that aren’t broken. The stalls are tiny and it stinks like off-brand air freshener and piss, but there’s at least one intact mirror with a working tap under it, and that’s all that matters, really. He just needs to wash his face and fix his hair. Freshen up a little. Get his shit together.

He’s only marginally more put together when he totters out of the bathroom a few minutes later, but it’s enough to get him moving at least.

It doesn’t take him long to spot someone’s eyes trained on his skin-tight jeans. Some guy a couple years older than him, broad-shouldered and dressed a little too nice to be slumming it on this side of town. His starched shirt looks professionally tailored, like something that’s only ever been dry cleaned because its overpaid designer would have a heart attack if it got too rumpled. The dude looks like he gets all his towels monogrammed and he’s got kind of a plastic-looking smile, but whatever, Billy’s done being picky.

He’s trying to get his pickled brain to come up with some kind of game plan when the guy starts walking towards him of his own volition.

So. Alright, Ken Doll it is.

He buys Billy another drink. Makes small talk that Billy mostly just nods at, nursing the cheap beer Mr.Watch-That-Cost-More-Than-Billy’s-Car shelled out for. It’s boring, but the guy keeps touching Billy’s arm the way Billy used to when he was trying to get bored housewives to like him, so apparently they are, in fact, flirting.

The attention is kind of nice, when Billy lets himself relax into it. Even if this dude smells like cough syrup and his laugh is as fake as his hairline.

The hair is actually very distracting in this light. Something about the neon. Billy’s eyes keep getting drawn upwards.

“Dance with me,” Billy interjects suddenly, catching Ken Doll off guard. To his credit, he recovers quickly enough that it’s not awkward, and he takes Billy’s hand with a pleased grin.

The music still sucks, but Billy’s buzzed enough that it doesn’t really matter. It’s not about the music, anyway. It’s about getting this guy to think he’s interested. Touching, being touched, and not having to look him in the eye when he does it.

He plasters himself to the guy, back to his chest, letting surprisingly soft hands wander under his shirt. They aren’t quite in sync as they move, his sense of rhythm is off, but being able to lean back against a warm, solid body is almost soothing enough that he doesn’t care, doesn’t notice the awkward missteps, or the bulge rubbing against him pointedly. They’re both getting what they want out of this, it doesn’t matter that it isn’t the same thing.

He’s nearly succeeded in losing himself in the moment when something catches his eye.

Familiar brown eyes, round with shock, trained on him from the other side of a crowd of strangers.

A strangled noise gurgles in Billy’s throat and he elbows the guy behind him in the gut, throwing him off. His stomach is cold where he’s no longer being touched, and beneath that it curdles and twists with a mix of emotions.

He ignores the man calling after him as he bolts for the door, pushing through people as quickly as his unsteady legs will carry him.

It isn’t fast enough.

“Billy?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Billy mutters, shouldering past Steve before he can stop him.

Frigid November air hits him hard after being in the stuffy heat of the club for so long. He shivers, sweat cooling on his skin. His breath mists in front of him, and his heartbeat thumps painfully against his ribs.

The door creaks behind him, “Billy, hey, c’mon. Robin called me, alright?”

Fucking hell, of course she did.

“Leave me alone, Harrington.” He starts walking in no particular direction. Anywhere away from here.

“She was worried about you, asshole, and so am I—would you just wait a second—” Steve huffs, annoyed, and his footsteps speed up.

His hand lands on Billy’s shoulder, and Billy startles, reflexively throwing Steve’s hand off, and stumbling a little as he jerks away. His shoulder hits brick, impact jarring enough to steal his breath as a dull, throbbing pain lances down his arm. He folds an arm across his stomach, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“What do you want.” His eyes are squeezed shut, but the back of his neck is prickling. He can practically hear Steve breathing behind him.

“I just wanna get you home safe. I—I know I was a total jerk, alright. I’m sorry.”

Billy turns his face away, leaning his forehead against the wall propping him up. It’s fucking freezing, too cold to be comfortable against his flushed skin. He clenches his jaw against a sudden shiver. He owes an apology of his own, but the words stick in his throat.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve huffs, putting a gentle hand on Billy’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

He presses firmer against the building, pushing hard enough to hurt, a sharp sting against the sensitive skin of his face, and grinds his heels into the pavement. “No.”

There’s no train of thought that lead him here. Nothing he could point to with any certainty, but the idea of just giving in and following Steve to his car makes his stomach turn. He’s drunk, and miserable, and he hates pretty much everything and everyone at least a little bit right now. That’s never been a safe state of mind for him. He doesn’t know where to go with it. But it’s selfish, he knows, somewhere deep in him, he’s being selfish. This isn’t about protecting Steve from his anger. It’s just...stubbornness, probably.

He shakes his shoulder, dislodging Steve’s hand again.

“Seriously, man, it’s not like you can drive yourself home, what are you—”

“‘S not your fucking business, Harrington.” He stands shakily, pushing himself away from the wall and eyeing Steve with a squinting glare. Steve looks unimpressed, arms folded, his goddamn mom face in full effect. Billy digs in, pointing at the bar with a sweeping gesture. “I’m sure I can find someone to go home with just fine.”

Steve’s jaw drops, gaze flicking between Billy and the door. There’s an expression there Billy can’t read, but it’s gone in an instant, hidden behind a furrowed brow and pursed mouth. “Billy, you’re way too drunk to be hooking up with some stranger, come on.”

“Like you aren’t three sheets to the wind when you bring your bitches home, fuck you. Fuck you.” Billy stumbles into Steve’s space, shoving his shoulder, sparks of something fizzing, popping, burning up in his chest, it hurts, it hurts but he bares his teeth like the pain isn’t eating him alive from the inside. “Would you care if I was planning on sticking it in some nameless cunt, or is the problem that I was gonna let someone stick it in me, huh? Is that it? Go get your dick sucked, Hargrove—” he spits it in a mocking tone, blind to Steve’s expression at this point, his vision is blurred, smudged and red. He shoves Steve again. “But only if I get a chick to do it, right? Is Buckley cool with you being a hypocrite, or do you hate her too—”

“Okay, enough,” Steve snaps, grabbing Billy’s wrists as he goes to push him a third time. He struggles, twisting in Steve’s grip, wrenching his elbows. The more he tugs and writhes the harder frustration clenches his insides in its barbed grip. Bile rises in the back of his throat, thick and sour and threatening to choke him with every labored breath.

He lashes out one last time, fists colliding with Steve’s chest. They stagger back, and Steve hits a wall with a wheezing exhale, pulling Billy along with him.

They’re both breathing heavy, standing close enough that their chests brush with every inhale.

Steve is staring at him intently, lips parted, his face still unreadable. “You’re wrong, you know,” he says quietly. His grip on Billy’s wrists tightens minutely when Billy scoffs. “I wasn’t—Christ, Billy, I wasn’t, like, grossed out by you being gay. I’m not. I’m…” He sighs, and lets his head fall back, hitting the wall with a dull thud. He stares up at the sky. Billy almost takes the moment of distraction to free himself but there’s a niggling suspicion tickling the back of his mind and it keeps him frozen in place. “Y’know, I come here sometimes. I was the one who told Robin it was a decent place for a date. Not...not that I’ve been on a real date since…well.” He sighs.

When he lets go Billy doesn’t step away.

“You’re gonna have to run that by me again.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “I’ve been with guys, Billy. You’re not the only one who comes here for hookups.”

The revelation weighs heavy on him, sinks like a stone in his gut. It shouldn’t be like this. It should feel different. He’s imagined a thousand times in a hundred different ways how Steve might be able to love him back, and even when his guilty fantasies were tainted by bouts of self-loathing it never felt like this.

But he never reacts to things how he’s supposed to, does he.

And this...this moment. Promises of good things always scare him, but this isn’t fear, not quite. It’s a discomfort he can’t describe. Intangible but suffocating. There’s too much wrong in his head, too many teeth in the dark, snapping at him while he scrambles for a flashlight. He’s tired of it. He just wants it to be quiet for once. He wants to just...be normal.

He feels a hot puff of air as Steve says his name, inhales sharply, lets Billy collide with him. It’s a rough, bruising, desperate plea of a kiss, his fingers buried in Steve’s hair, eyes squinched shut. He presses in close, close enough that the cold metal zipper on Steve’s jacket digs into the bare skin of his chest, and his belt buckle clinks against something. He throws as much of himself as he can into that kiss. Gives it all he’s got.

But it...it doesn’t…

He hasn’t kissed a boy since he was fifteen, young and stupid and unaware, getting high with a friend he hadn’t realized had feelings for him. It was brief, and awkward, and he felt more when Eric hugged him goodbye than when he tried to stick his tongue in his mouth. Kissing girls was worse, like swallowing sand—boring, painful, messy. He didn’t kiss anyone unless he had to.

Until now. And he didn’t know how much he expected from it until he was disappointed.

He barely feels the kiss. He goes through the motions, the slide and press of dry, chapped lips, but he’s too busy waiting for something that’ll never come to pay attention to what’s happening, too frustrated and in his head and...

Steve sighs against his lips, a soft sound that hums in his throat, and brings up a hand to cup Billy’s cheek.

His fingers are cold, and Billy jolts at the touch. Shudders when Steve trails along the line of his jaw. He’s gentle, his movements deliberate. He has Billy stopped in his tracks, frozen and waiting to see where this goes.

“Hey.” Steve nuzzles their noses together. “You okay?” He kisses the corner of Billy’s mouth, light and chaste, while he plays with a loose curl behind Billy’s ear.

Billy’s heart thuds painfully in his chest, beating frantically against his ribcage. His throat tightens. His eyes burn. He takes a shuddering breath in a wretched attempt to steady himself, but it catches, falters, and the last of his defenses crumble.

He pulls back, swaying, dizzy and barely able to make out Steve’s wide-eyed concern through the haze of hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He hears, faintly, a sound of alarm, registers clammy palms cradling his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, fruitlessly wiping tears away. He wants to pry himself out of Steve’s grip, wants to retreat, hide, but there’s nowhere left to run, and as terrified as he is of weathering the tenderness, Steve’s touch is the only thing keeping his knees from giving out.

“Billy, hey,” Steve whispers, urgent, a tremble in his voice, “What’s wrong?” He smooths errant curls away from Billy’s face, carding careful fingers through his hair.

“I am,” he spits in disgust, in anger, voice cracking, wet with tears. He swipes the heel of his hand across his eyes, leaving a damp smear behind. “I’m—I—” He can’t find the words. It’s something he’s always known about himself but he’s never put a voice to, and now that he’s trying, he doesn’t know how. “Fuck.”

“No, no, look, Billy, you’re okay, okay? It’s not...have you, uh—was that your first…”

Billy shakes his head. He shivers, jaw trembling. The cold air stings his cheeks, the damp spots on his neck, his collarbone, where tears have run and pooled. He aches all over. “I wanted—” he sucks in a breath, fumbling for respite, but his next is still a messy sob. “...wanted it to be different. With you. But I’m just—”

Steve blinks at him, his gaze searching, concern pinching creases all over his face. “Wanted what to be different? Did—did I do something…?”

Billy shakes his head again, vigorously this time, clutching Steve’s hands to his face. His vision swims.

“Okay…” Steve hesitates, waiting a beat before he touches his forehead to Billy’s. He breathes out slowly, eyes falling shut for a moment. “Okay. I’m taking you home. This can—this can wait, alright? Let’s just. Go home.”

The ride back to their apartment is quiet, the radio crooning some shitty ballad too quietly to hear the words, and the engine a dull roar bleeding into background noise. Steve’s car smells like pizza grease despite him only working delivery part time, but if Billy slouches far enough into the seat he can catch whiffs of the ambient Steve Smell underneath. The sweet smell of his shampoo and fabric softener that’s sunk into the upholstery over the years.

Billy stays hunkered down in his seat the whole ride home, and Steve, thankfully, doesn’t comment. However he does constantly cast glances in Billy’s direction, his hand on the centre console, tapping erratically. It puts Billy a little on edge.

But he’s exhausted. His eyes are dry, painfully dry, a raw, sandpapery ache that makes his impending hangover that much worse. So he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Tries not to think too much.

He nearly falls asleep in the car, but they pull up to their building just as he starts to nod off.

Christ, it’s been a long day.

He would’ve passed out the second he pulled his bedding up ‘round his shoulders if it wasn’t for Steve lingering in the doorway.

“Ey…” Billy mumbles, squinting at the silhouette shifting from foot to foot, blocking the hallway light from shining in his eyes, then not, then... “Steeeve…” he whines, and turns his face away, burrowing into his pillow.

“You—uh, you good? Um. Like...everything, everything all, y’know—”

“Just c’mere. ‘N turn off the fuckin’ light.”

“Oh—okay, yeah. Yeah.”

There’s a soft click. The creak of floorboards. A muted thump, cloth hitting the floor. Billy nuzzles deeper into his bedding, keeping his face pressed firmly against his pillow while he waits with bated breath. His pillowcase smells sweaty. Or maybe it’s just because he didn’t shower before he threw on a pair of basketball shorts and collapsed into bed.

Any other night he might’ve been embarrassed. Annoyed at himself for slacking off. But tonight he’s just...vaguely aware of it. Like the faint buzzing of an insect in the next room.

He’s jostled when Steve crawls under the covers, dipping the mattress under his weight, knocking a knee into the back of Billy’s thigh with a muttered “Sorry, shit, sorry.” Billy grunts noncommittally in response, sliding his leg back and tapping Steve’s knee with it.

Steve settles, eventually. After tugging the sheets and wriggling around and rearranging his limbs and tugging the sheets some more. He settles. And Billy turns over to check if he’s asleep, only to end up face-to-face with him, wide-eyed and definitely awake.

“Hi,” he murmurs, almost shyly, blinking those big fucking doe-eyes at Billy all sweet and embarrassed. Billy kind of wants to scream. Or bury his face in his pillow again, that seemed to be working for him.

“Mhm,” Billy hums, and shifts to a cooler patch of pillowcase. It feels nice against his flushed cheek. His eyes drift shut, but he’s still keenly aware of Steve watching him. “What.”

“Oh, um. Nothing, I just...I really am sorry, y’know. About earlier.” He pauses, and Billy musters up the effort to crack an eye open to squint at him. He’s chewing the inside of his cheek, and his furrowed brow casts deep shadows in the gloom.

Billy reaches over and pokes between his eyebrows, surprising them both.

He used to tell his mom stories. Stupid kids’ game stuff, pretending to live in the ocean so they wouldn’t have to go home yet, telling her his stuffed rabbit made the mess in his room because he found out his plastic carrot wasn’t real and it upset him. Stuff like that. But her favourite was when he gave her blessings. When he found her drifting too deep into unpleasant thought, worry lines more prominent than ever, he’d tap her forehead. It was something he’d seen in a movie, maybe. Or at church. Some ritual he was bastardizing because he wanted to make his mom feel better. He’d tell her she was all cured now, because he could do magic. She didn’t have to worry anymore. And it always worked. She always smiled, and kissed his curls.

He stopped doing it when he got older. When Neil started in on make-belief being for babies and fairies. When his mother’s worries got to big for him to just tap away. Either way, it just...started feeling silly. Pointless.

He’d mostly forgotten about it ‘til now.

And it...works just as well as it used to. Steve looks a little bemused, sure, but he smiles, and there’s a fondness in it that floods some hollow place in Billy’s chest with warm fluttering.

“S’ok,” he says after a beat, feeling obligated to do something other than stare dumbly.

“And about, um, the kiss, too, if I—”

“Shh.” Billy covers Steve’s mouth, squishing his cheek a little in the process. “No.”

He’s not thinking about that right now. Not right now. He’s tired, he’s going to sleep...He’s not thinking about it.

He’s thinking about it a little.

It’s gonna catch up with him tomorrow, he knows it. All the shame and persistent doubts, and echoes of every speech his father has ever given about what a real man should be, and what teenage boy doesn’t think about it all the time— shitty things every friend he’s ever had has said to him. It’s all lurking, scratching at the door he’s too tired to open.

It’s hard not to press his ear up against it though. Just a little.

He pulls his hand away.

“I guess I should just, uh. Shut up and let you sleep then.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Right.” He goes silent for a beat. Two. Billy’s eyelids begin to droop. “Would it—can I, um. Would it be okay if I held you?”

Billy blinks at him. He wonders, vaguely, if the real question was will you start crying again if I touch you? but he bats that thought away. “Uh.”

“If you don’t want to—”

“Shh—” Billy flaps a hand in Steve’s direction, silencing him, before he shuffles closer.

He raises his eyebrows, and squirms closer again, pointedly. It takes a second but Steve gets the idea, with a gusty exhaled, “Oh,” he slips an arm over Billy and curls around him, knee brushing the front of Billy’s thigh this time, hand coming to rest on Billy’s bare back.

He jolts, and grumbles, “Jesus fuck—cold,” wriggling away from the offending fingers.

“Sorry.” There’s too much of a laugh in that apology. Billy headbutts Steve’s chest—very ineffectively—with an annoyed grunt. Which just makes Steve laugh more, but it’s kind of nice. Being able to feel it.

He drifts off listening to the quiet thumps of Steve’s heartbeat.

~~

Waking up the next morning is disorienting. It happens slowly, in pieces. First he’s just barely conscious, aware of a splitting headache and little else besides the fact that it won’t let him drift back off into his blissfully dreamless sleep. He feels gummy and heavy all at once, his mouth dry and cottony.

Then, warmth. The sun streaming through his curtains. Blankets tucked around his shoulders. And…

He inhales. Honey and something softer, homey. Comforting.

Oh.

Oh god.

He opens his eyes. Which, ends up being a mistake, because it’s way too fucking bright to see anything, and the light hurts. He groans, turning his face away, and...yeah, that’s Steve’s chest. Okay. He’s just...rubbing his face all over Steve’s chest. That’s fine. And comfy. Hopefully Steve isn’t awake yet, ‘cause this on top of what he did last night—at least, what he’s pretty sure he did, some parts of it get very muddled and it’s way too early to be sifting through that shit with a fine-toothed comb—would be too fuckin’ much to deal with.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Goddamnit.

He doesn’t want to move. Maybe if he doesn’t move it’ll look like he’s not dying a slow embarrassed death over this.

“Mmng.”

Steve laughs quietly, and Billy has to restrain himself from nuzzling at the rumble in his chest like a spoiled lap cat. It’s fucking addictive, just existing in Steve’s space, curled up in his warmth and cradled like something precious.

There’s something different about it, different than when girls wanted to cuddle after sex, and he had to pretend to be reluctant, indulgent of their needs, instead of fucking desperate for some kind of contact that wasn’t full of intent, pain or pleasure. Contact that was just for the sake of touching. It was always a difficult thing to endure, the confused longing, and that itchy sort of creeping shame that came after. There was always some part of him that felt wrong, unsatisfied. Detached.

He has a sneaking suspicion that the difference here is that he feels safe with Steve. Which is somehow more embarrassing than preferring post-coidal spooning to the actual sex.

...That could also make a difference, come to think of it. That they didn’t have sex first.

Fuck, but he kissed Steve last night, didn’t he. He got sloppy fucking drunk because they were assholes to each other over nothing and of course that meant Billy had to run off and hide like a little bitch. And then make a fool of himself.

The more he remembers about the night before the less comfortable he feels.

He rolls over, off of Steve, turning away with no warning. The sudden movement is jarring, his headache spikes and his stomach gives an unpleasant lurch. He bites the inside of his cheek, grinding his teeth against the wave of nausea, pressing his forehead to cold sheets trying to will the hangover away.

“You okay?”

“Peachy.” His voice comes out wavering and hoarse, which definitely doesn’t sell the lie.

The mattress creaks, and Steve pats his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

His hands are warm in the morning. It’s all Billy wants to think about as he listens to Steve’s retreating footsteps, but if life so far has been any indication, he doesn’t ever get what he wants.

He still doesn’t know how he’s going to explain what happened last night. It would’ve been easy enough to dismiss one drunken kiss if he hadn’t broke down sobbing afterwards.

It’s never been that bad before. He’s had moments, sure, driving home from some girl’s house with her perfume still clinging to his shirt collar and needing to pull over to dry heave into a ditch. Or the times when girls threw themselves at him at parties, in front of everyone, and he had to lock himself down enough to not recoil. He’d pretend and play along, and when he got a moment to himself he would escape to the nearest bathroom to hide until his skin stopped crawling.

He always sort of knew he didn’t like girls, though. All the shit that went with going through the motions was just the cost of survival.

But even his disappointing encounters with men weren’t...this.

Eric had just been an awkward and shitty first kiss. The guy he hooked up with before leaving California was...well, he was too busy nursing broken bones afterwards to think too much about how much the sex sucked.

That shit haunted him, late at night, when he started to wonder if he was really gay if he didn’t like getting his dick sucked, and he didn’t daydream about the way Steve looked in the shower after basketball practice. He didn’t think about anything in particular when he touched himself, and he only did that very rarely.

It bothered him, sure, but he’d never broken down sobbing in someone’s arms about it. Before last night.

Christ, it’s all so fucking stupid. Getting so twisted up about one goddamn kiss.

One kiss with Steve, though.

He sighs. That’s the fucking thing, isn’t it. It’s Steve. He was going to settle for being his roommate, his friend, but he had to get all goddamn jealous over Steve bringing girls home and make a thing out of it. And then...and then, what, tried to prove to Steve, to himself, that he could do that kind of shit for Steve if it meant having him, or...maybe he was just stupid drunk and hoping for something to finally click, or maybe he’s just a self-sabotoging moron who can’t stand having even a little bit of a good thing.

Well, good job with that, because he’s probably fucked up this little roommate arrangement by sticking his tongue in Steve’s mouth. Because now he’s going to have to explain that he doesn’t actually want to do that. And there’s really only one way that people tend to take that sort of revelation.

Fuck.

God-fucking-damnit.

His stomach clenches, rolls, another wave of nausea hits him, cold sweat and all, and he groans low into his bedsheets.

The hallway floorboards creak. “Hey, you still awake?” Steve calls out softly, footsteps approaching hesitantly. “I brought water. And aspirin. I was gonna make coffee but you always complain about my coffee, so. Maybe I could just buy you one later.”

Billy cracks an eye open, with some difficulty. It’s still blindingly bright, and his eyes are painfully dry. Steve is hovering at his bedside like some neurotic nursemaid, clutching a bottle of painkillers and eyeing Billy with a weird amount of trepidation. The seriousness of his expression is somewhat undercut by the fact that his bedhead makes him look like a baby bird.

“Thanks.” Billy winces at the sound of his own voice.

Sitting up is a bit of an ordeal, but the glass of water dribbling condensation on his bedside table is enough of an incentive to power through it. He’s eminently aware of Steve staring at him as he drinks, picking at the cuff of his too-long sleeve. He must’ve slipped into on his way to the kitchen, Billy could’ve sworn he wasn’t wearing it before. It’s oddly domestic, in a way that Billy’s almost gotten used to since they moved in together. Steve standing there bare-chested, his sweater unzipped and threatening to slip off his shoulder, the both of them sleep-rumpled.

Would be nice if it wasn’t for the massive headache and threat of impending doom.

“So...coffee? Later?”

“Hm?”

“Like, a date, maybe?”

Billy inhales his water.

Coughing hurts like a bitch—his brain does not approve of this much jostling—but at least it gives him an excuse to not say anything right away. Which...would theoretically be helpful, but he’s too jumbled up and anxious and hungover to come up with something coherent.

“I—” He blinks away tears, and clears his throat a couple times. Steve is messing with his hair way too much, and he can’t seem to look at Billy for more than a second or two. Christ, he didn’t think he’d fuck it up this quickly. “We—I. Can’t.” Yeah, that didn’t help.

Steve rocks back on his heels, one hand coming up to rub his elbow, unsteady fingers grasping for something to anchor him. “What—what do you mean can’t?” His voice sounds perilously close to breaking. All his effort seems to be going into keeping his voice steady, his face is a painfully open book.

“I mean…” Billy gestures helplessly, like if he waves his hand around enough he can magically fucking manifest a reasonable excuse. All it does is agitate him more. “It wouldn’t—work. It wouldn’t work. Okay?”

“Why not?”

His chest tightens, heart pounding. “It just fucking wouldn’t, Steve. We’re not—we’re just not...compatible, or whatever.” He grips the glass in his hand, knuckles whitening.

“I don’t…” Steve pauses, looks at the floor, blinking hard. “I don’t get it. We—Billy, you kissed me!”

“I know, and I regret it.” It just slips out. His throat constricts the second the words are out of his grasp, out of his control, out in the open between them, making even more of a fucking mess.

“Oh.”

It’s just one, tiny little sound, but it hits like a kick in the gut. Hearing Steve sound like that is...hard. So forlorn and resigned and disappointed and...fuck, Billy hasn’t heard him sound like that since he got high on Halloween and started spiralling into a despondent rant about his terrible luck with women.

Apparently his luck with men isn’t any better, Christ.

He should say something to fix it. Anything. Before Steve walks away and they just leave things like this, because he knows if they don’t hash it out now they’ll just bury it until it grows too many roots to ignore.

But he can’t lie. Steve will know if he lies. But the truth isn’t exactly comforting. So he’s stuck between two shitty options, backed into a corner and panicking. What else is fucking new.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Steve looks two seconds away from running out of the room, he has to say something now.

“I’m not attracted to you,” he blurts, and the words feel sharper than they should, painful to force out, and Steve flinches when he hears them, retreating in on himself. “Fuck, I mean—I’m not—I don’t—I don’t know how to fucking say this.”

“It’s fine, you—you don’t have to—I, uh. I get it, okay. I got it.”

“You don’t.” Billy tugs on his tangled curls, groaning. His headache flares, and he hisses through his teeth. “God-fucking-damnit, Steve, would you sit down and just give me a second. Please.” It’s the please that gets through to him, Billy’s sure. He looks up at least, a glimmer of confusion in his big stupid sad eyes. “Steve. Please,” he repeats, his voice wavering.

Steve sits. Perched on the edge of the bed and still looking ready to bolt, but at least he’s sitting.

“It’s—it’s not just you.” Billy rubs some of the condensation off his glass, staring at the clean spot until droplets start to run through it. He concentrates on how they meander down the side, trying to keep his breathing steady. “I don’t even know what that shit’s supposed to feel like. ‘Cause I’ve never...there’s never been anyone I’ve looked at and thought, yeah, I’d fuck them, I just...I dunno.”

“But...didn’t you sleep around, like, a lot in high school?”

Billy winces.

“And what about that guy at the club?”

“I was trying to take your shitty advice, alright.”

“Wha—oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Billy waves a dismissive hand. Pauses. Forces himself to relax. He drops his hand into his lap and exhales quietly. “It’s not your fault,” he mutters. “I was being a dick. ‘Cause...I was jealous.”

He risks a glance. Steve is frowning at him like he just asked him to solve a math problem, corners of his mouth pinched, his brow deeply furrowed. It makes Billy’s fingers twitch, remembering the night before. A vague, dream-like memory of taking Steve’s worries away.

“Jealous of what?”

Of everyone’s who’s ever touched Steve. Everyone who’s ever wanted him like they were supposed to. Becky Woods, and Laurie whats-her-name, and Nancy fucking Wheeler. Every girl he brought to their apartment who left the morning after giggling and rosy-cheeked. The one last weekend who walked into the kitchen wearing Steve’s shirt and nothing else, and smiled at Billy like she hadn’t just ruined his morning.

Of Steve. For being able to have all that, and not even knowing how good he has it. How uncomplicated it is for him.

Billy sighs, and puts his water on the bedside table. “I found that annoying chick’s number in your pocket, alright. I grabbed your coat ‘cause it was near the door and I was just going out for a smoke, and. It was just...there. And it pissed me off.” He grits his teeth. “It was dumb, and I’m sorry.”

He waits. And sits there. And Steve just blinks at him. A few seconds pass that feel like an eternity. “I...but you said you didn’t…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m not sure I follow. No, I, uh. Yeah. I’m sure I don’t.”

“I said I didn’t want to fuck you, Steve, I didn’t say—fuck, it’s complicated.”

“Then why were you jealous, I—”

"Because I love you, okay?" Billy spits it out, in anger, too tangled up in frustration to think.

"Oh..." Steve’s lips part, jaw hanging slack as he stares. The corner of his mouth twitches, tugging upwards into something that's almost a smile, but it dims immediately. "Uh, like, as—as a friend?"

Billy groans, dropping his head into his hands. "Jesus Christ...no." It's muffled against his palms. His fingertips dig into his eyelids. Of course that’s what he’d think. “No. Like, I want to date you, and hold your goddamn hand, and all the stupid fucking sappy shit, but, but not—God, I shouldn't have fucking said anything. I'm not—I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend. I might be a selfish prick but I wouldn't do that to you."

There's a long horrible pause. Long enough that Billy wonders if that's that. The end of the conversation. It's a terrifying thought.

He startles when a soft touch brushes his knee.

"What if I wanna be your boyfriend?"

Billy’s heart skips, twisting in his chest. Hope. Traitorous hope. He's fucking weak, but he still manages to force out. "You don't,” wincing at how small and plaintive he sounds.

"I do."

Billy rubs his eyes, blowing out a harsh breath. He steels himself. "Steve, there's a real chance I might never, ever, be willing to fuck you." He sits up, hands curling loosely into fists and falling to his sides. His shoulders tense, aching, and clenching his jaw made his head pound. "There wouldn't be any more bringing random chicks home, and I wouldn't be picking up the slack. What exactly do I bring to the table that would make up for asking you to go steady with your right hand?"

Steve huffs a tiny, humourless laugh. "You love me."

Billy turns his head away, deflating a little. "Yeah, so?"

"So. I'll be okay. That's...more than I've had with anyone else."

"That’s—fuck off, Harrington," he splutters, "What happens when you find someone who can give you both, huh? I'm not—I'm not gonna be a fucking placeholder while you wait for some bitch—"

"Billy—" Steve leans in close, and Billy falls silent, mesmerized by the determined glint in his eye. He waits, anxious, blindly tapping his thumbnail while he holds his breath. "I fell in love with you the day we moved in together, because—because you labelled all your boxes so goddamn neatly, but everything you packed was all...messy and piled up like you'd just tossed it in, and, and you got so annoyed when I mixed up kitchen shit, and you cared enough to make sure I stayed hydrated but you wouldn't admit that's what you were doing, and...I realized just how much I wanted to live with you, like, make a life with you. Yeah, I wanted, I want, all the...other stuff, but I don't need it. I swear, okay, I don't need it. I just wanna be with you."

"You...are a relentless fuckin' sap, you know that?" Billy's voice breaks, and he tries his best to sniffle quietly. "What if it isn't enough. What if you wake up one day and realize you haven't gotten your dick wet in months and it's just un-fuckin-bearable. Where does that leave me. I can't—I can't fucking do this if..." The words stick in his throat.

Steve opens his mouth. closes it again. blinks. He looks down at his hands, the beginnings of a shy smile playing at his lips. "You want me to be in it for the long haul."

"That's—" Billy stutters to a stop, cheeks warm. "Not what I said." Technically.

"But it's what you meant."

Fuck.

Fuck it, he’s gotten this far.

"And if it was?"

Steve folds his arms across his stomach, grasping at the elbows of his sweater, plucking at the stitching. He’s still smiling, but there’s a melancholy to it that hurts to look at. "Then I'd tell you the one night stands were never about sex. Yeah, I like that part, but I just...get tired of being alone. Y’know, sleeping alone. And...you were always...I thought you were off-limits, but you were always around, and just out of reach. So—so I, uh, sometimes I need someone, I guess. To be there."

"Shit," Billy mutters. Pauses. Suddenly he can't think of a single damn reason why he's still sitting a foot away when he knows exactly how that feels and now he knows there’s something he can do about it.

He shuffles forward til their knees touch, sheets bunched up around his waist and tangled between them, and takes Steve's hands. The look Steve gives him turns his insides to mush, half a smile that's all doe-eyes and a gentleness that always makes him ache.

“I don’t know how to do any of this shit, y’know.”

Steve brings one of Billy’s hands up and presses a brief kiss to his knuckles. “We’ll figure it out.” He glances at Billy through his lashes. “Can, um, can I kiss you? Is that okay?”

A spike of anxiety lances through him. He chews the inside of his lip. Braces himself. “I, uh. Yeah, okay.”

Neither of them move for a moment. There’s something searching about Steve’s gaze, the way it wanders over his face, like he’s trying to see right through him. Like he can see right through him. When Steve starts to lean in he’s slow, cautious, watching Billy the whole time.

Steve untangles their fingers, and reaches up to cup Billy’s face, stroking his cheekbones. When he presses his lips to Billy’s it’s chaste, and brief. He pulls back almost immediately. “Still okay?”

“Yeah,” Billy breathes out, feeling oddly jittery, flushed. When Steve kisses him again it’s only on the corner of his mouth. Then his cheek. He’s soft about it, gentle, and deliberate, like he’s on a mission. His fingers slip into Billy’s curls, minding the tangles, just brushing them away from his face. Something warm flutters in his chest, butterflies replacing the anxious twist in his stomach. When he melts into the next press of Steve’s lips, he feels them curve into a smile.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”