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aemondsbabe · 9 months ago

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Give Me an O!

summary: billy walks in on you in a bit of a compromising situation, and you finally go after what you want

pairing: billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is very flexible, minor injury it's fine, piv sex, unprotected sex oopsy daisy, public sex technically, hand over mouth, fingering, breast/nipple play if you blink, dirty talk, reader's hair is long enough that she can have a ponytail but no other physical descriptors are used, billy is a himbo, steve harrington cameo

word count: 5k

a/n: finally getting around to a request from @sweetshifter! thank you for the idea bby & i hope ya enjoy! also, my first time writing for stranger things! yay! images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @unwanted-animal

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Your best friend asks as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, “I don’t mind staying a couple minutes.”

“Nah,” you shrug, still panting a little from practice as you lean to the side with a little sigh, stretching down toward your leg, “You go on, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Alright, cool,” she chirps, glossy lips flicking up into that sincere, beaming smile that had become her signature, “Bye!” She calls over her shoulder as she turns, white tennis shoes thumping against the shiny wooden floor as your name echoes around the gym.

“Bye, Chrissy!” You reply with a smile, glancing up as the heavy metal doors at the side of the room click closed, leaving you alone for the time being.

With a tired huff, you check your watch, one that matched Chrissy’s exactly – gold with a baby pink face. You’d gotten them at the mall last summer, a joint birthday present.

4:34pm.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lunge forward, hands planted firmly on your hips as you try to ignore the slight burn in your thigh. So, that’s… like, forty-five minutes until basketball practice starts, you think, eyes pointed up at the white metal ceiling as you do mental math, trying to figure out exactly how long you’ll have to work on your stretches.

Deciding to give yourself a few more minutes before calling it a day, you breathe out steadily through your pursed lips as you switch sides and lunge forward again, savoring the light burn in your calf. After a fifteen second count, you move onto your hands and knees, needing to stretch out your back.

You hum softly under your breath, one hand planted firmly against the blue tumbling mat beneath you as the other reaches back and grabs onto one of your ankles, your limbs forming a graceful arch above you. A small grunt leaves you as you pull your leg up as high as you can, before dropping it down and reaching back with your other hand to do the other side. Mid-pose, you swear you hear one of the gym doors click open, the one out to the hallway with the locker rooms and various storage closets judging by the direction, but you’re so focused on holding your pose, you honestly can’t be sure.

Huffing, you decide to just ignore it – Probably just the janitor or something, you think, keeping your eyes focused, once again, on the white metal ceiling as you roll over onto your back.

Breathing steadily, you let your eyes slip closed as you press both legs together before slowly lifting them up, using your hands and elbows to support your back as you lift onto your shoulders. Wincing slightly at the twinge of pain from your left one, you work through it, trying to keep your breath steady. As your green and gold cheer skirt pools at your waist, you silently pray that if it is a janitor, that it’s at least not the creepy one.

Slowly but surely, you work both legs up and over your head until the tips of your white sneakers press into the mat, your arms planted firmly onto the floor for support.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, you count silently, breathing a little shakily as you focus on balancing… and on ignoring your shoulder.

Suddenly, a loud wolf-whistle cuts through the silence of the gym, punctuated by a few slow claps and the heavy footsteps of someone walking across the wooden gym floor.

“Aah!” You squeak as you topple to the side, concentration thoroughly broken. Huffing, you prop yourself up on one elbow as your head snaps up, eyes already narrowed into an irritated glare. Upon seeing who it is, you can’t help but sneer.

“Can I help you, Hargrove?” You sigh, exasperated, rolling your eyes as you angle both legs out in a side split, determined to get through your stretches even with the added annoyance of Billy’s presence.

“Just admiring the view, princess,” he drawls, blue eyes trailing up the length of each of your spread legs in a way that makes your cheeks flush, “You’re real good at that, aren’t you?” He questions, plump lips quirked up into that signature, flirtatious smirk.

“Good at what?” You ask, brows furrowing as you bend over to the left, easily grasping the toe of your tennis shoe as the muscles in your legs stretch into a taut, familiar ache.

He chuckles at that, hands on his hips as he studies you, the spicy, woodsy smell of his cologne filling the space around you. He cocks his head to the side, pearly white teeth flashing every few seconds as he chews a piece of gum.

“Stretching,” he all but purrs, golden curls blowing slightly from the large fans that hum loudly on the ceiling. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he ogles at you, watching carefully as you bend to the right, “I bet it’d be really easy to just fold you up like a pretzel, huh, sweets?”

With a sigh, you finally let yourself relax for a moment and tilt your head up to look at the boy as you lean back on your hands, your ponytail swishing across your shoulder blades as you do.

“In your dreams, Billy,” you murmur, trying to keep the expression on your face plaid, wholly uninterested, which is easier said than done.

You don’t like Billy, and you’re very quick to correct anyone who says you do, even if it is just friendly teasing. But, well, there’s something about him that just draws people into his orbit – charisma combined with a certain mystique. You knew from talking to the girls in the locker room that he was a lady’s man, and a player, but from how they all talked about him, there appeared to be something more there, some hidden layer that no one had been able to crack yet. He’s different from the other boys in Hawkins, no small town charm to hide behind.

Plus, come on, he’s gorgeous. You might not be Billy’s biggest fan but you have eyes.

“Damn right, in my dreams,” he murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts as he draws out every syllable of your name in a low, husky tone, familiar smirk playing at his lips like always.

Cocking your head, you narrow your eyes as you peer up at him, “Aren’t you going out with Amber now?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it going out…,” he answers as he bends down on one knee to retie the laces of his shoe, shooting you a little wink as he does so.

“Does Amber know that?”

He pauses at that, a little huff of laughter bubbling up from his chest as he fixes you with a grin that is much too self-satisfied for your liking. “Now, princess,” he starts slowly, blue eyes narrowing at you playfully as he rests a forearm across his knee, “Why do you care so much about what I’m doing with Amber?”

“She’s my friend, Billy,” you say, sitting up a little more, the chill from the AC units making the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

“So, it’s definitely not because you’re, I dunno, jealous or anything?”

“No!” You cringe inwardly as you say it, too quick and too defensive and just what the blue eyed boy had been hoping for, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face.

This is how it’s been between the two of you for months now, ever since his stupid Camaro had rumbled into the school’s parking lot way back in August. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of teasing jokes, sitting through History class after History class as you feel those blue eyes practically boring a hole in the back of your head, and somehow mustering up the willpower to dodge his advances.

In the nearly three months since his arrival, Billy had managed to charm his way through at least a handful of girls, maybe more depending on which rumors you listen to, but you are determined not to fall for it, not to be just another notch on his bedpost.

Which would be a lot easier if he’d leave you the hell alone.

Flustered, you pull your knees up, tucking your chin over top of them as your arms wrap around your calves, silently rolling your eyes as Billy drops to the blue tumbling mat, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, making it clear to you that he was here to stay.

“Why’re you here so early, anyway?” You question, glancing at your watch once more, “Basketball practice isn’t for, like, another half hour.”

“Had to drop my stupid step-sister off at some trash arcade,” he grunts, annoyed, “Didn’t wanna waste the gas to go all the way home, plus…,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side to slyly grin at you once more, “I figured I might get here early enough to catch the end of cheer practice.”

“Creep,” you scoff, much more playfully than you’d intended to.

The two of you fall into a, surprisingly, comfortable beat of silence. You let your eyes trail over Billy as his own droop shut, one arm propped behind his head as he lazes on the gym mat, jaw clenching every so often as he works the gum in his mouth. You start at his feet, taking in the faded black canvas material of his Converse before you let your eyes roam up his long, tanned, muscular legs. Finally, you reach the familiar dark green shade of his school-branded shorts and your eyes wander up the expanse of his stomach and chest, covered by the grey t-shirt he wears, the familiar eyes of Hawkins High’s tiger mascot staring blankly into your own.

You nearly gasp as your eyes trail up to his face again, only to find his steely eyes already looking at you, a knowing smirk etched into his face as you feel the apples of your cheeks flush.

“It’s rude to stare, princess,” Billy drawls, catching you red handed.

“And it’s not rude to perv on me stretching?”

“Never said it wasn’t,” he shrugs with a little chuckle, sitting up and resting one forearm on a bent knee. You merely roll your eyes as he studies you for a second, the blush on your cheeks deepening enough that you can feel the slight tingle of blood rushing under the surface.

“Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head as you stretch your legs out in front of you again. You stretch forward again, letting out a breath as you grab at your ankles and try to ignore the way Billy sits up, propping his forearm up on a bent knee.

“Could you, like, put your legs behind your head and all that?”

“Probably,” you say with a little eye roll.

“Will you?”

“Not for you!”

The two of you carry on like that for a moment longer — you working through various stretches and familiar yoga poses as Billy seems overly curious about each one, questioning if you can twist into all kinds of poses.

“Can you do a handstand and do the splits?” He questions, grinning when you groan in frustration, eyes trailing up your long legs to the bottom of your short cheer skirt.

With a huff, you stand with one hand on your hip, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as Billy’s incessant questions throw you off the silent count in your head again.

“Did you want something or are you just trying fuck me over?”

“Mmm, close, princess,” the blond teases, earning another glare from you. Playfully, he holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re single, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking triumphantly at the way you balk.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Hargrove.”

His smirk widens when you don’t deny it, blue eyes darkening as they travel over the length of your body once more. “Look, all I’m saying is that the guys talk in the locker room and… well, I can’t help but notice that your pretty name just doesn’t come up.”

“Maybe I have better things to do than put out for you assholes,” you smirk, quickly stretching out your problem shoulder before kneeling back on the tumbling mat, meaning to finish up with a couple quick pushups.

Undeterred, Billy merely matches your smirk with one of his own, watching as you kneel next to him. “Just come with me to Harrington’s Halloween party next weekend, sweetness,” he offers, his voice a low rumble, “Come on, a couple hours, some drinks. Hell, I’ll even dress up with you, whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum, taking a second to tighten your ponytail as you shoot him a playful little smile, “Whatever I want, huh?”

“Name it,” he says lowly, watching appreciatively as you get on all fours.

“Okay, how about…,” you stall, drawing out your words as you extend your legs behind you, grunting softly as your shoulder zings with pain once more, “Willie and Indiana Jo– Ah!” You cut yourself off, exclaiming in pain as you land with a small thud on the mat, wincing.

“Whoa, hey,” Billy says softly, scrambling onto his knees, brows furrowed as he gingerly helps you roll over onto your back, “You okay?”

You nod, glancing away with a little embarrassed huff as you rub at your shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just probably sprained it earlier during practice or something.”

“Lemme take a look at it,” he says, offering a hand to help you up.

Not expecting such chivalrous behavior from Hargrove of all people, you only nod dumbly and let him pull you up off the mat, chest heaving.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently nudging at your arm until you turn your back to him. You can hear the tumbling mat crinkle as he steps closer to you, the warmth from his chest practically radiating through his t-shirt as the spicy musk of his cologne seems to envelope you once again.

“You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up,” you warn, albeit playfully, pulling your ponytail over the opposite shoulder.

“In your dreams,” he teases, goosebumps peppering your skin from the low way he says your name and from the gentle brush of his fingers over the back of your arm as they trail their way up to your shoulder.

He’s silent for a moment, carefully pressing warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin, watching until you wince just slightly when he pokes at your shoulder blade. “That’s where it hurts?”

“Mhm,” you nod, lips parting ever so slightly as he kneads around the area. You can practically feel him smirking when you sigh a moment later, his fingers working perfectly over the sore muscle as his other hand anchors itself at your hip, “You’re… actually, like, really good at this,” you murmur with a little laugh, needing to find some way to break the silence.

“My mom is – was, she was a masseuse, back when we lived in Cali,” Billy explains, leaning in closer, his lips all but brushing against your ear as he speaks softly, like he’s telling you some deep, dark secret, “I might’ve looked at one or two of her books.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowing as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“Sue me, I was thirteen and they had nudes in ‘em,” he chuckles, biting into his bottom lip when your breathy laugh morphs into a moan when he presses just right against your shoulder. The fingers of his other hand tighten on your hip as he pulls you back against him, his lips just barely grazing over the crook of your neck, “But I still picked up a thing or two.”

“Clearly,” you breathe, brows tugging together as you tilt your head to the side, an open invitation. The blond doesn’t need any more convincing and you let your eyes flutter shut as his lips descend upon your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin.

The rise and fall of your chest grows shallow as the two of you seem to lose yourselves; you gasp as the hand on your hip trails down over your thigh, until Billy can drag the tips of his fingers beneath the white and gold hem of your pleated skirt just as the hand on your shoulder begins slowly moving around your ribs, to your front. Despite the AC units humming away, you can’t help but feel flush as he presses himself against you, already half-hard against the small of your back.

With a gasp, you jerk away from him at the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway, muffled voices and laughter filtering in through the closed doors of the gym.

“Dammit,” Billy mumbles behind you as he quickly glances at the clock hanging above one of the exits, sighing disappointedly when he sees the time – fifteen minutes until practice.

Deciding to finally give in to the wants you’ve been harboring for months, you grab one of his hands and playfully bite your lip, nodding to one of the sets of gym doors, “Follow me.”

Smirking, he follows behind you as you quickly make your way to the doors, both of you pausing for a second to make sure the coast is clear before you bolt down the hallway. A second later, you’re pushing Billy through a door into a random classroom.

“This is the old Health room,” you explain, gasping as he turns and presses you against the old door, the metal of it cool against your back as you quickly scan over the empty room, dim other than the early evening light spilling in through the thin slats of the blinds, “No one ever comes in here.”

“Uh huh, fascinating,” he nods, turning his head to spit his gum into a small trash can by the door, before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. He smirks into the kiss as you mewl, his lips parting to quickly swallow the sweet sounds you make.

Always one to give as good as you get, your lips move against his just as fervently, both of your hands trailing up underneath his t-shirt as you rub over his stomach, muscles taut under your touch. His tongue slips into your mouth in the same second he presses against you, his thin gym shorts doing nothing to conceal the hardness of his length as it presses against your lower stomach.

You arch into his touch as his hands cup your breasts through your uniform, a low growl rumbling through his chest as you rake your nails over his chest and down his stomach. Boldly, you reach down and palm at his cock, savoring the surprised grunt he lets out before you quickly nudge your hand down the front of his shorts and into his boxers.

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand still kneading at your breast as the other skates back up your thigh, his forehead resting against yours. Biting your lip, you watch through hooded eyes as you experimentally stroke over his cock, marveling at how hard he already is, like velvet over steel.

Just as you feel him twitch in your grasp, the blond pulls away from you with a teasing grin and presses one last kiss against your lips before tapping the back of your thighs, urging you to jump.

“Fuck, there you go,” Billy rasps, fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you clamber up into his arms, your shoulder only barely smarting as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I gotcha,” his muscular biceps flex as he quickly walks a few feet from the door and deposits on you on top of the, thankfully barren, teacher’s desk pushed haphazardly into the corner.

“Billy,” you sigh, the sound being practically pushed from your lungs as he presses himself back between your thighs, cheer skirt rumbled around your waist as he all but folds you in half – your hands cling to his shirt desperately, one leg wrapped securely around his hip as the other ends up slung nearly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, princess?” He taunts with a wolfish grin, smirking at the way the muscles of your thigh twitch as his fingers move toward your pussy, hardly hidden beneath your boyshorts. You all but levitate off the desk as two of his fingers swipe over your slit, the apples of your cheeks flushing when he chuckles triumphantly, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide how wet you are. “Finally gonna give me what I want?”

You can feel your ponytail bobbing wildly at the crown of your head when you nod, a whiny moan blooming from your lips when he moves his fingers in tight circles against your clit, the flimsy material of your underwear quickly dampening against his touch.

“Yeah, yeah, Billy,” your hands tremble as you pull at his t-shirt, desperate for what you’ve been wanting for so long, “C’mon, please!”

“Easy, tiger,” he laughs, tongue running over his bottom lip as he easily tugs his shirt over his head, your own hands scrambling to push down your boyshorts. Taking mercy on you yet again, he helps you, eagerly tugging the white cotton down your legs. He damn near tears them in two as he pushes your underwear over one sneaker, letting them dangle from your ankle.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, crowding against you again as you lean back on the desk, propped up on your elbows. You stare up at him, lips parted, as he all but folds you in half, warm hands pressing against the backs of your thighs, “Fucking leaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Oh!” You hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down, head thudding back against the desk as Billy quickly tugs his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out, and teasingly runs it through your folds, “Billy, oh my God, just do it!” You all but beg, teeth biting into your bottom lip at the wet sounds of him moving against you, deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Were you anywhere else, Billy would have absolutely no qualms about teasing you to within an inch of your life – payback for playing cat and mouse with him for almost three months straight. Lucky for you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of getting caught with his pants down as you are, shuddering to think what Neil would do if he got expelled over this.

With a barely contained growl, he pushes into you, his cock sliding easily to the hilt with how wet you are. Your back arches off the desk as he slides home, stretching you beautifully as he fills you completely.

“Oh – oh my God,” you breathe as he stills, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hands scramble over the smooth top of the desk before you grab onto his wrists as his hands hook behind your knees.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans – the way he grumbles your name makes your walls clench around his length, punching another grunt from his chest as he starts shallowly thrusting against you, grinding his hips against yours.

The two of you dissolve into a flurry of breathy mewls and sighs, each of you desperately trying to keep quiet as the muffled sounds of skin against skin and the dull creaking of the desk fill the room. Your eyelids flutter as you watch Billy above you, golden curls bouncing with each of his thrusts as a light sheen of sweat covers his tanned chest.

Grunting lowly, he presses harder against the backs of your thighs, practically pressing your kneecaps against the desk below you, blue eyes sparkling as you easily follow his movements. With the small change in angles, the head of his cock thrusts perfectly against that sensitive spot within you, and he grins triumphantly as you tremble beneath him.

“That the spot, princess?” He questions, smirking when you nod your head with a little broken squeak, “Fuck, I can’t wait to get you in a bed – bet you can bend in all kinds of pretty ways, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Billy,” you agree, willing to agree to just about anything as long as he keeps moving. You can hardly contain the moans spilling from your lips as he works you higher and higher, the adrenaline from the possibility of getting caught as well as the rush of finally having him making you rush toward your end faster than you normally would.

Breathing heavily as your pussy clenches at his cock, he lets go of one of your thighs and shoves your shirt up, unceremoniously taking your bra with it. You bite at the back of one hand as he teases at your breasts, using one hand to pinch and pull at one nipple before moving to the other as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration.

“O-Oh, my – fuck, I’m –” You moan brokenly, squirming beneath him as you feel yourself nearing the edge, teeth biting desperately into your bottom lip as you claw at his forearm and waist.

Cockily licking over his lips, Billy leans forward as he grinds against you, his hips putting pressure on your clit as he covers your mouth with one hand, propping himself up against the desk with an elbow as his other still grasps at the back of your knee.

You squeeze him tightly as the tail end of his happy trail rubs deliciously over you, giving you just enough stimulation to throw you over the edge.

“Yeah, princess,” he encourages, grunting with nearly every thrust into you as he feels you clenching around him, pushing him further and further toward his own edge as he clenches his jaw, determined to hang on as long as possible.

After only a few more thrusts, he quickly pulls out with a small groan. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he strokes his cock, painting your lower belly with stripes of his release.

Both of you still for a moment, breathing heavily as you each come down. Half expecting Billy to simply get dressed again and leave, you’re surprised when he softly kisses you, more relaxed this time, as his warm breath fans over your cheek. Dazedly, you kiss him back, your lips moving together unhurriedly as you card your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck.

After a moment, you part and your lips quirk up into a shy smile as he moves back half a step, giving you enough room to sit up.

“Oh, uh,” you breathe, looking down when you feel his cum cooling against your skin. Glancing around the room, you pout a little when you don’t see any tissues or paper towels, “There’s paper towels in the locker room?” You offer, looking over at Billy, watching as he quickly tugs his shorts back into place.

“I got it,” he says with a small smirk and before you have time to question what he means, he quickly tugs your underwear off your ankle and uses them to wipe at your skin, grinning meanly when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jackass!” You exclaim, laughing softly despite yourself, “That’s the only pair I have with me!”

“Nothing wrong with going commando, sweetness,” he says with a wink, chuckling when you wrinkle your nose at the thought while you pull your bra and shirt back into place, “Come back to my place and I’ll was ‘em for you, my parents don’t get back until late, anyway.”

“You just want a round two,” you laugh, hopping off the desk and straightening out your skirt the best you can before running your hands over your hair, trying to smooth out your ponytail.

“Told you I was gonna fold you up all pretty,” Billy smirks, crowding against you yet again once he tugs his shirt back on and lightly grasping at your jaw, “Something tells me you won’t have a problem with that either.”

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Sure, yeah, I dunno what that means, princess,” he says, grinning when you laugh, your hands pressed against his chest as he quickly tucks your boyshorts into the waistband of his shorts, “Just come back to my place, hm?”

“What about basketball practice? Jason hates when people ditch.”

“You really think I give a shit about what Carver wants?” Billy laughs, taking one of your hands in his as he makes his way toward the door.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you finally agree, rolling your eyes playfully as you let him pull you out into the hall.

“And come with me to the Halloween party?”

“You have quite a list of demands, Hargrove.”

“Hey,” he says with a little shrug, glancing at you as you walk side by side toward the locker rooms, “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You merely giggle as the two of you round a corner, nearly freezing and nervously glancing over at Billy when you come across Steve, chest heaving as he leans over a water fountain.

Standing straight, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Billy, watching as he quickly scoops up his duffle bag from where he’d tossed it down earlier in the hallway. “Dude, why’re you leaving? You’re almost, like, half an hour late for practice.”

“Yeah, well, tell Carver something came up,” the blond boy huffs dismissively before taking your hand once more. You shoot a bashful smile at Steve, blushing as you and Billy walk toward the doors out to the parking lot.

Behind you, Steve takes a minute to connect the dots, brows furrowing as he plants his hands on his hips. After a second, his eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“Come on, at school?” He calls down the hallway, shaking his head as you and Billy laugh, “Fucking animals, man.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

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#my writing #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #dacre montgomery #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #smut

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harringroveholidayexchange · 11 months ago

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i am no artist…and i forgot to badly photoshop a header…so take this even worse piece of scribble art instead. hope it makes you laugh :,)

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sunset by avalonlights ( @avalonlights ) - art - for boltedfruit ( @boltedfruit )

Little Siren by Finney13 ( @camaro-and-smokes ) - 9,516 words - for Medusapelagia ( @medusapelagia )

Under The Mistletoe by Destroya_Destroya ( @destroya-hargrove ) - 2,120 words - for Deathinasmalltown ( @billysblueeyes )

Santa Baby (I’ll Wait Up for You, Dear) by Starkstruck27 ( @starkstruck27 ) - 6,968 words - for Kirbymatsu ( @apple-juice-dreams )

Have I Got the Person for You by hmg621 ( @hmg621 ) - 2,491 words - for Carerra_os ( @jellyfishloveletterghosts )

Problem Number Three by Yikes_Writes ( @yikesharringrove ) - 3,235 words - for Dovesadumass

Home by boltedfruit ( @boltedfruit ) - 1,521 words - for Destroya_Destroya ( @destroya-hargrove )

The fair by TheMadcapLaughs ( @lorifragolina ) - 3,980 words - for nervoussis ( @passivenovember )

#fic #harringrove #harringroveholidayexchange #gift #mod post #art #harringroveholidayprompts #harringrove holiday exchange #queued post #masterlist #hhe2023 #hhe 2023 masterlist #harringrove holiday exchange 2023 #harringroveholidayexchange2023masterlist

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thediktatortot · 2 years ago

Text

A Steddie piece I made for my fic sharing account header @steddiefanfictionforbillylovers where I share Steddie fan fiction that is either neutral, critically positive or friendly to Billy Hargrove.

#steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Billy Hargrove #Best Friend Billy Hargrove #Stranger Things

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billlydear · 2 years ago

Note

How would Billy be when it came to asking you to a school dance or prom? Fluffy as you would like it :)

HC - BILLY HARGROVE ASKING YOU TO PROM

W.C 734 - INBOX (please request) - CREDIT TO GIF OWNER

a/n not to reuse a gif/header so fast but it fit too well 😅

i really, honestly think he'd make it a game - he'd ask you after school if you were planning on watching that night's basketball game, and if you said no, he'd ask you to please come and watch him.

you're flustered, of course, because you've really never even talked to him before! but you suppose the worst that could happen is nothing, he could just ignore you the entire time. so you give in, you promise you'll be there, and his smile is breathtaking

it's much different from the typical smirk he's always wearing, and something about it sends butterflies swarming through your stomach

you definitely try to look nice, but casual for the game. something that, if unnecessary, could be played off as just a good mood. after all, it's still a high school basketball game in a stuffy gym.

billy definitely has his fair share of admirers in the stands, moreso than steve, who's probably not used to the shift in attention yet. you would feel bad, but you're too focused on billy.

he definitely notices, too. he comes out bare-chested, shirt god-knows-where in the locker room, not even giving himself a chance at modesty. and he's giving 110% to the game, running more than he has to and taking risky plays that somehow always end up in his favor.

it means that there's a sheen of sweat over his upper half, dripping down his neck and matting his curls down by his face. it gathers at his pecs and you're sure that if he was wearing a shirt, he'd lift it to wipe his face and subsequently show off his stomach.

after every impressive feat he's glancing at you, having sought you out in the stands before the game even started. sometimes he offers you a wave, which you hesitantly return, other times he just grins, maybe a wink here and there. but you're definitely on his mind for the night, you know that.

it happens when hawkins is almost defeated, behind by just one lucky shot. and you're not sure how billy has such confidence in him (read: it's not just confidence, it's his ego), but he cups his hands around his mouth, shouts up at you, and all eyes are on you.

"If I make this," He gestures to the hoop, chest heaving with adrenaline and shining under the lights of the gym, "Will you go to prom with me?"

you think it’s pretty high stakes, considering he’s betting the winning shot on your date. what if he misses? but if there’s one thing Billy Hargrove has it’s the audacity, and you know it. You nod, trying to ignore the glares and jealous whispers of his fan club.

he just grins, and of course, by some heaven-sent miracle, he makes the shot.

everyone goes wild. not only because he won the game, but because now he has a date. the rest of the team is all piling on him, shaking his shoulder and slapping his back and whooping

you’re sure half of them are only congratulating him on a potential hookup, not a date, but you’re hoping it’s not like that

the team stays on the floor for a bit and he catches you before you go, still sweaty and flushed. he jogs up the bleachers, and he asks if you really meant it, if you’re actually gonna go with him. you say yes, but you admit that you’re hesitant because you’ve never really talked to him before

he understands. his shoulders go up in a little shrug and he goes ‘yeah, you never really turn around in class. I see you a lot, though, I wanted to get to know you.’

you’re still a little nervous. but he seems genuine, there’s none of that Hargrove cockiness oozing from him like it usually is, despite having just won the game and a date. he’s smiling, not smirking, and he doesn’t try to kiss you or anything, just grabs your jacket and helps you into it

he’s hoisting it up over your shoulders, and tucking it tight to your frame, which means he’s close behind you. his chin hovers over your shoulder and your breath hitches, but if he notices, he doesn’t tease you for it.

‘you can choose our matching colors,’ he offers, tugging lightly on the hem of your blue shirt, ‘but I think you look fan-fucking-tastic in blue.’

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove hcs #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fluff

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steviewashere · 11 months ago

Text

Return to Sender

Characters: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove (A Warning in Itself), Eddie Munson (E.M.)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

General Audiences (May Change, but Will Not be Explicit)

CW: Use of the word Queer (as a slur, from Tommy) mentioned briefly and not at all lingered on

Tags: Pre-Season 2, Rewriting Canon, Though Keeping to Main Canon Events (i.e. Steve getting roped into finding Dart, Billy smashing in Steve's face, The junkyard, etc.), Eddie Munson has ADHD, Steve is Self-Deprecating, Teasing Banter (sort of), Steve has Shitty Parents

This is Part 2! To read Part One, follow the link here!

-------- It dawns on Steve that trying to find somebody by their little hobby of drug dealing is going to be tougher than he thought. He can't just ask anybody. And it's not like he can make some bulletin board statement or put an advertisement in the newspaper. What would that even look like?

Local Teenage Boy Who's Seen Some Shit Is Now Seeing Cute Little Locker Notes! Looking For Inquiries About A Drug Dealer With The Initials E.M.! Will Give "The Best Sex" You've Ever Had a Run For Their Money as Reward!

Yeah, he can't imagine that looking very well.

Not for him. Not for the other person involved. And he doesn't want to lose these little notes that he now looks forward to every time he goes to grab an assignment or a textbook or his lunch money. Because, what he's still reeling about, the notes keep coming. With not a single sign of stopping.

Little things. Like telling him how amazing he looks in his new polo shirts, to not listen to the scoffing of Tommy Hagan—who keeps telling Steve that he looks like a "Queer little prep." (Which, Steve's not sure how he's been found out in that regard. He hopes Tommy can keep a secret. But, knowing the history they share, he definitely can't.) And there was one with the answers to the math homework he was doing last minute at breakfast in the cafeteria, which were all correct, and Steve found himself giddily smiling over the big fat letter 'A' on the header of his paper. So, the notes are getting to be more frequent. They're nice. He loves them.

The only question is:

How the fuck is he supposed to find this person?

He began with the, albeit, dumbest way first. Standing vigil near his locker. Watching for anybody that looks like they're about to leave a note. A few girls wander near, but they don't mess with his locker. No, they flock to the other side of the hall to mess with Billy's. He scoffed when they did. And while he was busy watching them, he noticed at the glance back of his own locker, a new note.

It wasn't a very long one. Just:

"Have a good day, man. Also, stop watching random girls. You look like a creep. -E.M."

Steve physically slapped himself on the forehead when he reread it. Of course he missed his opportunity. Because he was distracted with some other mindless thing. That thing not only being those girls, but also stupid fucking Billy Hargrove. He always manages to find a way to ruin Steve's day, even without physically doing or saying something. He grumbled with the note tightly in his grip and stomped away to his last class of the day.

Then, when standing by his locker proved to be futile, he lurked in the cafeteria. Watching the tables. For somebody who was nose deep in a slew of little slips of paper, scattered near their hands, a blue pen secure in their hand. But—

He was the only one truly alone at a table. And the crowds of people at the other lunch tables made him nervous. So, he stopped watching. Besides, everybody was too busy talking to one another.

His locker didn't have a note at the end of the day. He was bummed about it.

Steve came to the conclusion on that day, Random person doesn't want me to be lurking. Or at least, that's what it seems like. Either he gets caught doing something he shouldn't be doing, or he can't actually see anything. Because there's nothing to see.

Some of his other ideas fell through.

Looking through last year's yearbook. Asking a few random students in the hallway if they knew an E.M., but they only rolled their eyes and shoved past him. (He's not used to that. Being ignored by the people around him. Maybe with his parents, but school life is supposed to be different than his home life. He doesn't like that the two are now bleeding together.) He even attempted the phone book. But that was a bust. There were probably thirty names to go through. And he didn't know which ones were teenagers in high school. And he seriously didn't want to call each one and ask: "Hey, are you the person that's leaving notes in my locker?" What kind of creep would that make him? An obsessive one, probably.

At least the student obsessed with giving him notes isn't bothering tons of other people in the process. At least this elusive stranger has morals and values.

He's growing frustrated, though. The longer this drags out. But he just has to...wait. Be patient. See if he can catch his secret admirer off guard.

In the mean time, he attends his classes. The ones that hold all the information for him to graduate, but all the knowledge goes into one ear and leaks out the other. He falls asleep at his desks from time to time. And since he's no longer on the basketball team, his schedule is wide open for after school detentions. Great, he thinks as he holds the pink detention slip in his hand today. Because what I need is proof that I'm still a failure, no matter what I do.

But he swallows his pride. Well, what's left of it. Some meager crumbs and a couple laps of liquid bravery that paint his insides like dried acrylic paint. Shuffles over to his locker at the end of his fourth period. Stuffs his oversized backpack onto the hook. Rustles around with some textbooks—maybe he can attempt his math homework; attempt is a strong word. He'' probably just stare at it and doodle a few drawings in the margins, hoping for time to pass.

There's a white slip of paper wedged between two books.

"Tough luck, Stevie. Maybe you'll get a proper nap at home once you power through detention. Believe me, the pent up frustration will knock you clean out. -E.M."

Steve scoffs. Crumples up the little thing into an even smaller ball. Tosses it at the metal backing of his locker. And watches as it bounces down pathetically to the floor. Embarrassingly, he finds himself on the verge of tears. Could my senior year get any worse, he asks nobody. But groans aloud as he picks up the paper once more and pockets it instead.

Textbook in hand and a wrinkled homework sheet in the other, he's on his not so merry way.

When he gets to the detention classroom, he's the only senior in it. Well, other than that overtime senior, Eddie Munson. He takes his seat next to Eddie, near the back, a textbook and homework sheet dutifully laid out on the desk, and his eyes stubbornly locked to it. Just to make sure it looks like they're not talking. Because he seriously doesn't want to be the only one in here. Sure, there's what appears to be a couple sophomores spaced out on the left side of the classroom. A few girls that he recognizes from Nancy's school year, all huddled around each other and whispering not so soft under their breath. But it's just him and Eddie in the back right corner. And hopefully he doesn't get reprimanded, forced to sit somewhere else, he isn't sure he can take anymore awful shit in his day.

However, it seems like it can get worse. His calculus homework. It's not something he knows well, having cheated off of one of those locker notes. Sparing his life of cognitive embarrassment, having to prove himself to maintain his average 'C' grade for sports this year. I'm not getting accepted to college, why the fuck do I have to do this shit, he has to wonder. It's giving him a dull headache.

The problem that's getting him:

What is the integral of the function f(x) = sin 2x?

He wants to slam his head onto the surface of his desk until he's just a mound of bloody, pulpy meat. He's better with English literature, surprisingly enough. Even if the words move a little bit, it's better than whatever garbage he's looking at now. It's like the problem knows he doesn't understand. It's like it has teeth, gaining and baring and wanting to chop off his fingers. It's like—

Something taps on the corner of his desk.

Looking up from his paper, agitated and exhausted, he finds the eraser end of Eddie's pencil clacking against the wood of his desk. Growling, he asks, "What the hell do you want, Munson?" Adding, huffed and close to giving up, "I'm trying to do my homework."

Eddie just grins at him. "I know, dude," he snarks. "We're in Mr. Nelson's class together, remember? I've got the answers, if you want them."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right," he mutters. "Like you'd know. I know for a fact that you have an F in calc, why should I trust that you actually have the right answer?"

"Oh, that's simple," Eddie chirps. "I know my shit. Just don't turn in my assignments. You know—" He gestures vaguely at his head. "—I got that new diagnosis, ADHD. The thing that sort of makes you forgetful, or whatever? I know it, I'm just...Not on the money with turning it in on time."

"ADHD?" Steve can't help but asks, somewhat suspicious. "What does that even mean? Are you just making that up? There's no way—"

"Look," Eddie interrupts, voice short and firm, "do you want help on your homework or do you want me to explain shit that I know you won't retain? Because I could sit here and describe the whole thing, get you bored and distracted, and send you off on your way even more dumb and lost than when you entered in here. Or...I could tell you the answers and make you look better in front of Mr. Nelson and your basketball team."

Steve huffs. "I'm not stupid," he argues, voice weak. "And besides, I'm not on basketball anymore. So..." He sighs, defeated. His eyes fall back to his blank homework assignment. And he can feel his eyes begin to burn from embarrassment. Maybe I am stupid, he thinks, Maybe I'm no better than some super senior. "Can you just show me what to do, without making fun of me? I get that I was a jackass in the past, but this week has been rough. I just need to get through the end of it." He knows that to his own ears that he sounds like a petulant, begging little kid. And knows, too, that it's not a good look on him. His dad doesn't like it. Coach didn't like it. Mr. Nelson and Nancy Wheeler and Tommy Hagan and...Nobody likes it when he sounds like this. When he's a sight for sore eyes, down on his luck, ready to just curl up in a ball and melt into the floor.

He drags a hand quickly over his eyes, trying to wipe away at the wetness barely coating him. Sniffs back whatever emotion is still souring his throat. And keeps his line of sight pointed downwards. “I—Never mind, you probably don’t want to help some jerk. Especially one that just made fun of whatever you…whatever you said. God—“ He chuckles something deeply self-deprecating. “—You were right. Can’t even fucking remember what you just said. Can’t remember how to do math. Can’t remember…My head hurts and I’m tired and this just sucks. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to come off so shitty,” his voice strains, though spits. Guess wiping my eyes did nothing, he notes, watching something wet drip down onto the desk.

“Steve,” he can hear Eddie breathe. “It’s fine, dude. I didn’t take any offense. Nobody knows about my shit, it’s fine. I was just giving you a hard time.” Steve looks up briefly at that. “I don’t even know why, if I’m being honest. You seem like you’re better, but maybe I’m wrong?” Eddie shakes his head. “Just let me see your paper. Act like you’re studying your textbook, I’ll do your assignment.”

“How am I supposed to learn if you do it for me?” Steve asks wetly.

“You’ll learn, I’m sure of it. Just give it here.”

At the end of the detention period, his homework is completely filled out. It looks correct, better than what Steve could ever possibly do. He has to go to the bathroom, stops inside, erases some of the correct math and fills in with his own scratchy handwriting, goes through his whole restroom routine, and returns to his locker.

Only to find another note.

“See? Detention wasn’t that bad, you survived! Now, take a nap at home. Relax. You’ll be alright. Senior year will be a breeze for you, I’m sure of it. -E.M.”

If only mystery person knew that taking roses to Nancy Wheeler leads to weird creatures that eat raw meat, tunnels and fire, and a beaten face.

If only he knew how to lick his own wounds. When he gets to his locker the day after him and Billy fight, he finds one more note.

“Okay, maybe I was wrong about this being a breeze. Meet me in the woods, picnic table, sit and wait for me. Think it’s time I show myself. Get you a friend around here. Someone who’d be willing to kill Hargrove if asked. -E.M.”

-------- Some Notes:

Did you know that ADHD was not an official diagnosis until the 1980s? So it's literally brand new here. Also, gotta get them to have a little bit of rivalry—something akin to a rivalry, at least, before they can be buddies and then lovers and then rivals again. Hehe, I love angst. <3

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #season 2 #different first meeting #passing notes #canon divergence

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sunvmars · 1 year ago

Text

'*•.¸♡ june's navi ♡¸.•*'

fic masterlist | request box

under the cut: about me, gen. blog info + blog links, other links

...about me↴

⇸ juno :) 19. omni. she/they.

⇸ virgo, infp.

⇸ writer, reader, artist, musician.

...general blog info↴

⇸ multifandom writer who writes for...

˚ marvel: steve rogers/captain america, bucky barnes/the winter soldier, wade wilson/deadpool. ˚ stranger things: billy hargrove, steve harrington, & eddie munson. ˚ bullet train: tangerine & ladybug. ˚ the gray man: sierra six/court gentry & lloyd hansen.

⇸ requests are open and encouraged!

⇸ minors are welcome, but are discouraged from viewing nsfw content :)

⇸ wips: bitter sweet series (steve rogers x reader)

⇸ tags: #sunvmars, #bittersweet, #bittersweetseries

...blog links↴

⇸ new main masterlist

⇸ old masterlist

⇸ request box & asks

⇸ taglist↴

⇸ you may also dm me or drop a request in my request box to be tagged

⇸ dividers & headers (coming soon)

...other links↴

⇸ spotify

⇸ pinterest

⇸ ao3

⇸ wattpad (under construction)

#fanfiction #navigation #navi #navigation page #directory #navigation post #blog rules #blog navigation #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #multi fandom blog #resources #updates #sunvmars

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firefly-graphics · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I'm in love with your work ❤ can i request a stranger Things themed divider/header pack,

tysm <3

Hello! Sorry for the delay in responding to your ask - I've made a set of Stranger Things dividers and a few character specific ones.

Stranger Things Dividers

Billy Hargrove Dividers

Eddie Munson Dividers

Steve Harrington Dividers

Let me know if you have any other ideas in the comments.

#stranger things #divider #billy hargrove #eddie munson #steve harrington #divider request

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slowthunders · 3 months ago

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🧛🏻‍♀️ hello hello hello!

౨ৎ ˚⋆ name: cheri thunders

╰┈➤ [BASIC INFO] - she/her. intp. thirties. mexican. bisexual. slow as fuck. sagittarius ☼. cancer ☾. pisces ↑. grumpy. always tired. on the autism spectrum. add and dcd. grunge cowgirl groupie. with a taste for complex and messy characters. a box of useless information. i have a fucked up moral compass.

╰┈➤ [IDOLS] - daria morgendorffer. billie joe armstrong. buttercup. marianne faithfull. makoto kino. mark lanegan. marilyn monroe. claudia cardinale. jane birkin. nellie laroy. jane fonda. saphire and polexia from almost famous. nicki minaj. kat stratford. karen sirko. elaine parks. nancy downs. fiona gallagher. og disney princess belle. kim kelly. william miller. anita pallenberg. clair standish. john bender. nancy thompson. blair waldorf. samantha jones. disney's rapunzel. bebe buell. heather holloway. billy hargrove. brian slade. kurt wilde. maxine minx. elton john. mick jagger. andrew wood. scott weiland.

╰┈➤ [INTERESTS] - music. writing. books. photography. cinema. witchcraft. horror. fantasy. goth stuff. americana. bohemian/boho chic core. pop culture of the 60s 70s 80s 90s and 00s.

╰┈➤ [BOOKS] - the master and the margarita. the haunting of hill house. rebel heart: an american rock and roll journey. i'm with the band. the naked lunch. house of spirits. faithfull: an autobiography. salem's lot. fall to pieces. daisy jones & the six. everybody loves our town. please kill me. meet me in the bathroom. up and down with the rolling stones.

╰┈➤ [CRUSHES] - layne staley. chris cornell. jerry cantrell. johnny knoxville. ryan dunn. nick drake. bryan ferry. meg white. michael hutchence. angelina jolie. izzy straddlin. david gilmour. john frusciante. david from the lost boys. trent lane. marilyn monroe. st. jimmy and whatsername from the mv of green day's jesus of suburbia. bill skarsgård. dane dehaan. liam gallagher. albert hammond jr.

╰┈➤ [SOCIAL MEDIA] - instagram and discord, i'm as slowthunders too!

╰┈➤ [ARTISTS/BANDS] - alice in chains. britney spears. green day. roxy music. alanis morissette. the rolling stones. lana del rey. soundgarden. pink floyd. marianne faithfull. sabrina carpenter. prince. hole. stone temple pillots. inxs. black sabbath. divinyls. the velvet underground. avril lavigne. lou reed. nine inch nails. the stooges. mc5. elvis presley. the clash. lady gaga. the smiths. television. mother love bone. the dandy warhols. dolly parton. bobbie gentry. mark lanegan. cky. whitney houston. blink-182. korn. the risin' sun. cheap trick. the who. combo musical los caquis. the moody blues. led zeppelin. sly and the family stone. mandy moore. nelly furtado. deftones. amy winehouse. blur. sublime. the cult. jimi hendrix. oasis. marc bolan. pearl jam. mariah carey. kylie minogue. robbie williams. audioslave. roxette. faith no more. janis joplin. nancy sinatra. the allman brothers band. gram parsons. johnny cash. waylon jennings. lil 'kim. bob dylan. beyoncé. mad season. pearl jam. fleetwood mac. the doors. ratt. charli xcx. mitski. pantera. joni mitchell.

╰┈➤ [FILMS] - moulin rouge!. the love witch. x. singles. say anything. the bling ring. beauty and the beast. beauty and the beast: an enchanted christmas. scream. home alone. babylon. performance. daisies. the secret garden. tangled. ten things i hate about you. my scene jammin' in jamaica. the lost boys. the craft. mean girls. casino. don't look now. paris, texas. walk the line. a nightmare on elm street. maxxxine. the breakfast club. trainspotting. almost famous. rocketman. the rocky horror picture show. practical magic. barbie. bram stoker's dracula. the exorcist. the panic in needle park. goodfellas. the shinning. once upon a time in hollywood. texas chainsaw massacre

╰┈➤ [COMFORT PALS] - hello kitty, spottie dottie. keroppi. pochaco. minnie mouse. psyduck. eevee. bulbasaur. winnie the pooh. eeyore

none of the icons, headers, pictures and edits are mine unless stated.

#about me #pinned post #about cheri 🎀#grungequette #coquette #lana del rey #pink blog #grunge #girlblogging #girlblogger #groupie #im just a girl #this is a girlblog

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dirtbagdefender · 7 months ago

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🚬 BILLY HEADERS, PART 2! (ft. the whistle + harringrove)

DOWNLOAD HERE. please like/reblog if you’re using — previews are under the cut — i recommend downloading the .zip instead of downloading the gif directly from tumblr, since tumblr resizes + reduces the quality. DO NOT REMOVE THE WATERMARKS + PLEASE remember to credit me! if you would like something specific, consider commissioning me!

#stranger things #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery #mobile headers #( * mine )#billy + red = iconic

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myfandomrealitea · 2 years ago

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Begging pleading needing people to let Billy Hargrove exist without Max Mayfield. Write it on my grave header. Tattoo it on my forehead.

Not everything in context of Billy has to be about, revolve around or relate to Max.

He's his own person. Neil Hargrove forcibly made Billy's life revolve around and to a degree be controlled by Max. I'm literally begging you to stop carrying that trend into fandom and how you interact with fandom content. There's nothing wrong with creating a better, healthier relationship between them but I'm dog-sick of seeing people acting like Billy's entire existence relies on Max. Like there's no feasible value in Billy surviving and thriving unless he's still shackled to Max and to the idea of being her responsible, doting brother.

He was an abused teen shoved into a replacement family that was weaponised against him. Whatever responsibilities you think Billy has to Max I can assure you don't exist.

#discourse #stranger things #stranger things discourse #billy hargrove #billy hargrove discourse #pro billy hargrove #fandom #sephiroth speaks

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wheels-of-despair · 10 months ago

Note

Could you please add a warning to your last billy hargrove fic that it contains cheating?

It has been brought to my attention that the Billy Hargrove x Reader blurb "Can You Feel It?" should contain more content warnings. Please accept my sincere apologies for this error, and be advised that interested parties may want to read the following detailed summary of the content before reading the blurb itself.

Can You Feel It Warnings: reader hating Billy Hargrove, reader hating Billy Hargrove's hair, reader hating Billy Hargrove's earring, reader hating Billy Hargrove's car, reader referring to someone as a skank, reference to a party thrown by Tommy Hagan, reference to Billy Hargrove confessing his love for reader, reader thinking about fucking up Billy Hargrove's car, use of curse words in warnings, and also in the work itself, reader crying, reader being angry, reference to a fight with Billy Hargrove in the Hawkins High parking lot in Hawkins Indiana, staff of Hawkins High threatening to call parents about aforementioned fight, mentions of death, specifically: Billy Hargrove being dead to reader, Billy Hargrove winking, derogatory term for female with loose morals, reader thinking murderous thoughts, interruption by an original character named Ashley M., references to underage drinking, references to an unsupervised keg party, 80s hair, Cyndi Lauper makeup, reader hiding revealing clothes from guardians, inappropriate term for footwear, boy drool, arriving late to a party, using a poor innocent boy of the author's own creation, forgetting aforementioned boy's name and giving him a new one, touching without explicit consent, reader being dragged, possibility of walking in on teenagers committing tomfoolery,

improper use of restroom facilities, bad kissing, reader touching a penis through pants that she notes is "comically small", reader uses unkind term for young athlete, boy being used stops mid-make-out to hang up his jacket like a good boy whose name reader forgot, reader's neck being mauled, reader's breasts being grabbed by someone she doesn't care about in an amateur and unpleasant way, reader possibly attempting to strangle boy with his own shirt, reader deciding she'd rather have untalented boy groping her ass rather than her tits, use of the words ass and tits in place of buttocks and breasts in both fics and warnings, reader being declared "hot", reader rolling eyes, reader being bored, reader anticipating the arrival of Billy Hargrove, reader expecting Billy Hargrove to be angry, Billy Hargrove kicking a bathroom door open, Billy Hargrove leaving a dent in Ashley M's bathroom wall, reader calling Billy Hargrove a fucking moron in her head, reader moving a boy's body without his consent, reader obviously using boy to make Billy Hargrove jealous, Billy Hargrove looking ready to kill, reader's neck being slurped on, reader scratches her nails down boy's back just like the lyrics in the header state, references to Alanis Morissette songs, references to Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know", references to 90s hits by female artists, references to songs about rough breakups, references to angry girl music, fanfiction inspired by song, fanfiction written for a tumblr event, fanfiction written for a valentine's day event, reader insert fanfiction, a boy in pain, boy scratched with fingernails, references to Billy Hargrove liking his back scratched, implied kink, reader scares useless boy away with scratching, Billy Hargrove grabbing boy by scruff of neck, Billy Hargrove bouncing boy's face off of wall, Billy Hargrove shoving boy to floor, Billy Hargrove slamming a door, Billy Hargrove locking a door, Billy Hargrove's hand on reader's throat, reader's head being smacked against a mirror, fire blazing in Billy Hargrove's eyes, reader revealing that she actually loves Billy Hargrove, references to Billy Hargrove being moody and difficult and snarky and a liar and a cheater, references to Billy Hargrove breaking your heart, reader longing for Billy Hargrove to love her, aggressively making out with Billy Hargrove in Ashley M's bathroom, body buzzing when being touched by Billy Hargrove, reference to Billy Hargrove having massive hands, reader moaning into Billy Hargrove's mouth,

Billy Hargrove squeezing reader's breasts in a pleasant way, reader willingly opening legs for Billy Hargrove, reader wearing barely-there panties, Billy Hargrove inserting his finger into reader's vagina, (reader gets to pick which one), references to reader's vagina being in a state of arousal, use of the word douchebag as an insult, use of the words limp-dicked dumbass, implying that boy bleeding in hallway is too dumb and/or inexperienced to operate a calculator, Billy Hargrove snorting in amusement, reader admitting she did this for Billy Hargrove, reader calling Billy Hargrove an asshole, Billy Hargrove smirking, reader hooking her leg around Billy Hargrove to pull him closer, Billy Hargrove grabbing reader's ass, Billy Hargrove physically moving reader without her explicit written consent, use of 'member' as a term for boy parts, use of 'heat' as a term for girl parts, reader claiming that Billy Hargrove assaults her mouth, reader clinging to Billy Hargrove, reader very close to getting off from friction caused by Billy Hargrove's jeans, Billy Hargrove taunting reader, Billy Hargrove jerking his hips, reader refusing to beg for the dick she so desperately needs, reader trying to grind her hips against Billy Hargrove, Billy Hargrove holding reader still, reader biting Billy Hargrove's neck, Billy Hargrove slapping reader's ass, reader and Billy Hargrove glaring at each other frequently, Billy Hargrove unbuckling his belt, Billy Hargrove unzipping his pants, vague terms for penis in vagina sex, Billy Hargrove thrusting hard and fast, Billy Hargrove making you look at him, Billy Hargrove wanting to watch reader's face when his penis hits that one spot found inside reader's vagina that makes reader's eyes slide out of focus, reader and Billy Hargrove having a simultaneous orgasm on the bathroom sink at Ashley M's house, sex between high school students, sex in a bathroom, sex in a bathroom at a party, sex in a bathroom at a party at Ashley M's house, Billy Hargrove's head resting on reader's shoulder, reader claiming that no one can make her fall apart like Billy Hargrove does, reader wanting to tell Billy Hargrove that she loves him, reader fearing that Billy Hargrove will acknowledge that he knows and leave her again anyway, reader admitting that she does not actually hate Billy Hargrove as was stated in the opening sentence of the fic in question

Words in the Blurb: 1438 Words in the Warnings: 980

#warning: this post contains sarcasm #(sarcasm is the caustic use of words - often in a humorous way - to mock someone or something)#had to break up my warning tags because tumblr thought i was going overboard? weird.

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