#billy hargrove needs a kitten

[coyotestarcraft]

I can only the imagine the soft looks Billy gives to the tiny kitten, sounds so adorable!

you gonna let me keep her?

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 1,713

warnings: swearing, brief smoking, billy being a flirty little shit

a/n: i can't get over the idea of billy having a cat, so here you go. i hope you like it!! <33 (would you look at that curl??!!)

————

Tugging the key free from the ignition, you moved to pull up on the door handle, pushing it open. It was chilly out, the time of year where fall has just begun and it's getting darker a bit earlier, but some days are still warmer than others.

Billy let you drive the Camaro to work today, and you should've known that meant he was up to something. It wasn't something that happened often, although you did revel in the rare occasion that it did.

Sitting on the steps to the little home you shared, Billy snubbed out his cigarette when you started in his direction. He stood, walking to meet you.

"Hi," he said, before pressing his lips to yours once, twice. One more for good measure.

He pulled away, grasping for your hand. "Come with me. Gotta show you somethin,' okay?"

Billy took his keys from you, slipping them into the front pocket of his jeans. "Okay."

You tried not to be worried about whatever he was going to do, but it didn't work. Holding your hand, callouses rubbing against your palm, he led you slowly and quietly around to the side of the house.

He'd planted rosebushes there on a whim a while back, so you wondered if maybe that was where you were heading. "You gotta be quiet, okay baby?" Nodding your head at him, you only grew more nervous.

Billy crouched toward the end of the row of rosebushes, pulling you with him. Looking at him, there was a shift in his features—he looked soft, younger maybe. He pointed at a shallow sort of opening in the stems, and you lowered your head to look.

There was a kitten nestled in between the leaves and the brick of the house. It was small, and couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. Small enough that it most definitely still needed nursing. Your heart warmed at its calico fur, having always liked those colors.

It was mostly dark brown, with patches of black and white along with this warm caramel color. It was precious.

"How long's she been down here?" You looked up at Billy, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you as you knelt, dropping your bag on the grass beside you.

"I saw her out the window the other morning, but she's been here since yesterday. I thought mama would've come back for her, and I didn't wanna bother her. But I'm starting to think maybe she won't. She hasn't moved. What do you think, sweetheart?"

You'd had cats when you were younger, multiple, and had always loved it. Billy knew this, and that's presumably why he was asking.

You get down on your elbows, leaning in to look at her. She opened her eyes, blinking up at you slowly. They were the prettiest shade of blue. Kind of like Billy's. You stuck out your index finger, moving it towards her to see if you could gauge a reaction.

"Hi, baby. You okay in there?" She sniffed the tip of your finger, little nose scrunching and head bobbing in the process. You dared to graze your finger against her head, and she took to it, purring loud enough for Billy to hear and laugh.

Billy's hand found your back, rubbing up your spine. "Where's your mama gone, huh baby?" You ask, as if waiting for a response. She squeaks at you, not even a meow. "I see."

Billy was enamored by you, and slipped his hand under your shirt, rubbing the skin of your back now. You ran your finger under chin, drawing out a deeper purr. "I think we ought to leave her tonight. Wait just a little longer to see about mama. No dice, then we take her to the vet. We can bring a towel out, though. I'm not sure she's old enough for soft food, and I don't wanna chance messing up her tummy."

"I trust you," he said.

————

True to plan, you'd tucked her in with a towel for the night, but she was still there the next day, and mama hadn't come.

You could tell that Billy was attached to her, but you weren't sure that keeping her was a good idea.

You'd called the vet that morning, and had an appointment set up to get her checked out. "How about I get her out, and you can hold her on the way? You can let me drive your car again."

Keen on sucking up in hopes you'd let him keep her, Billy agreed, and you now found yourself driving into town, Billy holding the kitten in his lap. She was sitting up, rubbing all over his hands, licking his fingers, meowing up a storm. Shit, you thought. She likes him too.

The vet took her back, and Billy took your hand, kissing over the back of it. "You gonna let me keep her, princess?"

He was giving you his very best, watery and pleading eyes.

"I don't know, Billy. I don't know if that's the right thing to do. We'd have to buy food, and the tech said she's got to be hand-fed for a while, and then a litter box, and if we ever went anywhere, someone would have to watch her."

None of this bothered Billy, but he could see it was worrying you. "Don't sweat it, baby. I'll feed her as often as I need to. And Max could watch her! She'd be a great aunt."

You rolled your eyes at him. "I'm sure she'd love that you're volunteering her for this. And please stop treating this cat like it's our child."

He laughed at you, almost maniacally.

————

You'd agreed to keep her. There was no way in hell you were going to deny Billy of this. He looked over the fucking moon when you'd given him the okay, picking you up and spinning you around.

The two of you had decided that you didn't want kids, and this was the closest you were going to get.

"C'mon, Mal. Let's go find mama." Billy lifted the kitten up from her place on the couch, setting her high up on his chest heading off in search of you. "What do you think mama's doin' Mallory? Avoiding us?" He'd spent a week trying to choose a name, but finally settled, claiming that one felt right.

Billy found you washing dishes, even though you'd said you were just going to put a sweatshirt on. "Hey, mama."

You rolled your eyes, looking down at the soapy water your hands were buried in. "You can't keep callin' me that, Hargrove." You could feel his presence behind you, and could hear the purring of the guest he'd brought along with him.

"Why's that baby? 'Cause you like it?" Your cheeks burned, and you refused to look at him.

You did like it, actually. You couldn't get over how it sounded coming from his mouth, lazy and drawn out. And you were practically beaming considering it was because you were the "mother" of a fur ball rather than an actual human.

But really, you denied him because you were jealous. Mallory was taking Billy from you, and as much as you liked her, as sweet as she was, you were kind of hurt.

He'd spent hours hand-feeding her from a little milk bottle given to you by the veterinarian, picked out a little collar with a bell so he'd know where she'd run off to, bought her a tiny bed to put in your room.

The other night he'd been sprawled out on the couch, bare-chested, and she'd taken the spot on his chest that you wanted. You felt betrayed after she'd been so nice to you at first.

She sat on the counter while he brushed his teeth, on the rug while he showered, came barreling down the hall when he got home from work.

But you were happy that he was happy, glad that he had something to occupy his time, take care of and nourish. It was just the kind of thing he needed. But you couldn't help but feel as though a cat had stolen your boyfriend.

"No. I hate it," you told him, though he didn't believe you in the slightest.

Billy set the cat down, telling her to go play, which she did, sliding across the floor and attacking a mouse full of catnip. "Stoner," he mumbled, turning back to you where you were draining the water from the sink.

His hands found your sides. "You're avoiding me."

"Am not."

"Is it the cat?"

"No, Billy." You tried to move out of the kitchen, but he caught you and pressed you up against the counter, so you wiped your cold wet hands across his face.

"You little shit." He rubbed his cheeks across your face trying to get the water off, but also trying to make you laugh.

"Tell me what it is, baby." Billy kept touching you, rubbing his hands up your arms, over your neck, your back, trying to love on you and coax out an answer.

"I'm jealous of the cat," you tell him.

"I knew it." He kisses you then, firmly. "Don't gotta be, princess. I'll always love you more. Just don't let her hear that. Is it 'cause I've been givin' her so much attention?" You nodded your head, him copying the motion. "Yeah?"

"How about I let you feed her more often? I just get excited is all. You're a real good mama. We. Will. Be. The best. Kitty parents. Ever." He punctuated each word with a kiss, making you warm all over. "Deal?"

"Deal."

"'Mama' doesn't really bother you, does it? I kinda like it. It's kinda hot." You played with a curl hanging in between his eyebrows, ran your thumb over the slit in his right one.

"No. It's just fine." You said it like a whisper, making him smirk at you, run his tongue along his teeth.

"Good. Now c'mon, mama. Wanna lay down."

————

Billy walked down the hall, and into the living room, spotting you on the couch with Mal on your chest. You caught his eye and shook your fist in victory.

He knew she'd win you over. They were very good accomplices.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[cooliestghouliest]

THE MIDDLE BEDROOM

PAIRING: established Billy/Reader relationship, bff!Eddie is a Peeping Tom

TAGS and C/W’s: this is basically just smut (which means 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), pining undertones, oral (f!receiving), Billy's filthy mouth, SPIT, Eddie's a pervert but Billy's kinda setting him up so really Eddie is just advantageous, m!masturbation, unprotected PiV

WORD COUNT: 3.4k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. basically, i’m trying to revamp everything i’ve published in hopes that an inspiration bug crawls deep, deep inside me and just fucking explodes, leaving only creativity and motivation to replace all of my blood and oxygen. it’s almost 2024, who needs to bleed and breathe anyway??? please remember that likes are greatly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what make the writer’s world go round. :-) <33

—

It happened at Rick Lipton's annual Halloween party. '86, baby.

There were many nameless faces wandering about the bungalow, all in varying states of sobriety. Eddie only recognized a handful of people, one of them being Billy Hargrove... and the other being you, Eddie's best friend, but also Hargrove's drop-dead, knock-the-fuck-out gorgeous girlfriend.

Eddie had overheard someone guess that you were dressed as a witch. Someone else guessed that you were dressed as Stevie Nicks. With a shrug, you'd answered, "Those are the same thing," like it was the most obvious certainty in the entire world.

You were in a sheer black off-the-shoulder maxi dress, the form-fitting fabric tight in all the right places. There was a long, gracious slit down the side that ran from hip to foot. When you moved in a certain way, Eddie could see that you were wearing black suede thigh-high boots, a little kitten heel clicking against the hardwood floors as you walked.

Right up to him.

"Hi, Eddie," you'd greeted with a smile, eyes wide and welcoming. You swirled the train of your dress a bit, swaying along to some Joni Mitchell song playing in the background. "Happy Halloween."

Eddie didn't get the chance to answer, though he was sure he'd have ended up stumbling over his words anyway, because you just looked so pretty tonight. He was only able to return the smile before Billy appeared beside you.

"Hey, man," Hargrove prompted, Eddie watching as the honey blonde rested lucky fingers on the small of your back. The other palm extended to clap Eddie on the shoulder a few times. "You bring it?"

"Yeah, it's just... uh..." Eddie dug his hand around in the front pockets of his jeans, then in the back pockets of his jeans, then eventually found what he was looking for in the pocket of his denim jacket, bypassing a broken button to reach for the little baggie in question.

As he was about to pull it out, Billy’s hand gripped his forearm, halting him. "Not here," Hargrove instructed. He stepped an inch closer to Eddie, voice lowering to just above a whisper. Eddie had to dip his head forward to try and hear the blonde over the music and commotion around them. "Come upstairs. Like fifteen minutes. Middle bedroom." At Eddie's confused expression (they were at a Halloween party thrown by Hawkins' most profitable drug dealer, for fuck's sake -- who the hell would care about a little coke?), Billy fashioned him a grin, stepping back. "Don't need everybody knowing my business and shit, ya know?"

Eddie guessed that was a decent enough explanation, so he shrugged the absurdity off. He'd always thought Billy was a little weird, anyway. And coming from Eddie Munson, the biggest fucking weirdo of all, that characterization spoke volumes.

After that, you and Billy disappeared. Eddie had followed the tail-end of your dress until you were lost in a sea of strangers, then decided to try and push the rest of the weed he had onto other partygoers, wanting to leave tonight with his current debt to Rick paid and his lunch box full of fresh goodies for the new month ahead.

It was exactly fifteen minutes later that Eddie began his ascent of the stairs to Rick's second floor. He weaved in and out of groping couples, stepped over sleeping Lettermen, and gave a tight-lipped smile to a group of girls that stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed right into him. He stepped to the side, giving them the right of way, before crossing the hallway to his destination: the middle bedroom.

The door was shut, so Eddie knocked. Waited a few seconds, then knocked again.

Still with no answer, he took a large step back, surveying the other doors around him to verify he hadn't gotten turned around and was in fact standing in front of the right room, which he was.

Eddie huffed a sigh. He glanced around the hallway again, checking to see if maybe Hargrove was just running late, but there was no blonde mullet in sight.

Figuring Billy must have been inside and was just... busy or something (actively ignoring him? suddenly gone deaf?), Eddie brought his hand to the knob to twist it and enter.

The room was mostly dark. Not exactly pitch black, thanks to a streetlight seen through the big bay window, but still dark enough that Eddie needed to blink rapidly several times to adjust his eyes to the new lighting.

His immediate thought was that Billy must have either forgotten to meet him up here or had ditched the party entirely and left the dealer packing with a now homeless dimebag of blow.

Off to the right, however, was a thick slab of pale-yellow light emanating from a partially closed door. It was the bathroom, which Eddie knew from sleeping in this very bedroom more than a handful of times since first meeting Rick Lipton a few years back.

And that’s when Eddie started to hear it.

Or, as he would soon come to find out, hear you.

He had at first mistaken the quick, soft breaths of air for sounds of pain or distress, which was why he'd begun inching towards the bathroom in the first place.

But now, standing in the shadow of the ajar door, he was able to peek inside. At the sight before him, Eddie felt his eyes widen, and a prickling warmth started to spread throughout his body.

Those were definitely not sounds of pain or distress.

Billy sat kneeled in front of where you were currently spread out on the bathroom counter. Your knees were hiked up towards your chest, your dress laying in a heap on the ground, and you were left only in a bright red bra. And those goddamn suede thigh-highs.

He should have walked away right then, he knew that. He was going to, really, but then you arched your back, your head falling lax behind you, and the fucking obscene moan you let out had Eddie biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted blood.

How was he supposed to leave now?

He couldn't help himself.

You were just... you.

Thoughtful, generous, creative. You went out of your way to ensure no one ever felt judged or left out; you were known to drop everything without debate in order to help anyone who really needed it; you let him host Hellfire in your basement when the club needed a new location in a pinch, and even helped him plot twists in his campaigns.

Truly, Eddie had a very hard time seeing what you saw in that prick Billy Hargrove, but that was something to ponder at a later point. Because right now, Eddie was getting to see you in a position he'd only ever dreamed of seeing you in.

When would he ever get this chance again?

Eddie refused to think too deeply into this, deciding to pretend he didn't have a moral compass for a bit. It was probably bad. Likely even made him a pervert, but he'd been called much worse, so he figured he'd just add this one to the list now, too.

He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to face either one of you again, but his feet just weren't working when his brain tried to tell them to move, and now his cock was starting to fill out the confines of his jeans in a way that had him seeking the relief of the doorframe, his hips acting of their own accord, finding a slow, rocking rhythm.

Billy had his palms splayed out on either side of your inner thighs, holding your legs open. Eddie quickly grew irritated that he couldn't see exactly what the blonde's tongue was doing. He thought that if he couldn't be the one with his own face buried against you, he wanted to at least have an unobstructed, close-up view.

He wanted to see Hargrove's lips wet with your slick, wanted to watch them wrap around your aching clit and suck until you tried to push him away. If Eddie could, he'd hold your arms down while Billy devoured you, wanting you to feel so much pleasure it was borderline painful.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by the sound of Billy's voice, raspy and teasing. "Love when you give me this sloppy fucking cunt," he said, the words themselves demeaning but his tone singing nothing but praises. Billy lowered his head back down, giving you a few long, loud licks.

Eddie knew he himself could be theatrical, but Billy Hargrove was dramatic in his own ways, and it did certainly seem like the blonde loved to hear the sound of his own voice. Apparently, eating pussy and its associated noises fell under this umbrella of Hargrove Histrionics.

Billy pulled his head back to spit several times on your well-loved cunt. Eddie didn't dare to blink as the other man brought two fingers to spread your lips and spit again, this time with your hardened nub as target. Both him and Billy watched intently as the saliva dripped slowly down your slit, past your empty hole, and leaked off of you entirely to darken an already present wet spot on Hargrove's blue jeans.

And fuck, you loved it.

With each assault of Billy's spit, you let out faint little gasps (fucking cute, Eddie had thought), body jolting at the contact, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the moisture filled in every curve of your core.

"So fucking messy, aren't you?" Billy taunted, his free hand moving to palm at his clothed length. Eddie was relieved to see Hargrove finally begin to touch himself, honestly impressed at the self-control the blonde had to disregard his pleasure and focus solely on yours. "Makes it feel so good when I finally fuck this thick cock inside you," he continued, unzipping his jeans as he stood. "You think this pussy's ready to soak me?"

Eddie felt like his skin was boiling. He wished he could eliminate some layers. Or all layers, preferably.

You were staring earnestly up at your boyfriend, a desperate pout on your face as you nodded in vigor. "Please, Billy," you begged, and Eddie couldn't take it any longer. He needed to fist his cock raw, having had enough of this grinding against the wall bullshit.

At the same time Billy dropped his jeans, Eddie did the same, pulling himself out of his boxer briefs. He muffled a groan of relief by biting down on the knuckles of his free hand, his other wrapping around the girth of his dick and just squeezing. He didn’t want to give in before Billy had gotten inside you.

The blonde sure was taking his sweet fucking time though, only wetting his length by sliding himself repeatedly between your lips. You were whining, and Eddie could tell you were trying to angle your hips in such a way that it would trip Billy up and he would slip inside. Good girl, get that fucking cock, Eddie thought, impatient and eager to cum, but not wanting to do so without first catching a glimpse at what you looked like stuffed and fucked full.

"Hmm, I dunno," Billy provoked, tapping his cock against your cunt with loud slaps. "Feels really good just like this, baby. Maybe I'll use the outside to fuck myself instead, cum all over this pretty little pussy, make an even bigger mess. You want that?"

You and Eddie both shook your heads at the same time.

You gave a grumble of annoyance (more of like a testy whimper, really) and brought a hand up to slap playfully at Billy's chest. "Fuck me, Billy," you demanded, your voice throaty and yearning. You dropped the hand at his chest to circle his cock, wrapping delicate fingers around his own and helping to stroke. "Need it inside."

"Oh, you need it, greedy girl?" It appeared he was going to listen to you, much to yours and Eddie's respite, because he lined himself up against your hole with one hand, the other moving to wrap around the nape of your neck. "I didn't know that. I gotta give my girl what she needs then. Can't have anyone thinking I don't take care of you."

Finally -- finally -- Eddie watched as Billy took one thrust to bury his cock inside you completely, the blonde releasing a loud, lewd moan. Eddie gave his own throbbing, sweat-slick length the same treatment, fucking into his fist from tip to base until he felt his tightening balls press against his twitching fingers.

You looked better stretched open than Eddie could have ever imagined -- a natural flush glowed on your skin, your bottom lip tugged tight between your upper teeth, your brows furrowed deep.

Your eyes rolled back as Billy began to move, a satisfied moan escaping your lips at the pace he was setting. The sound, contented yet desperate, was music to Eddie's ears. He wanted to record it and hear it on loop -- as a wake-up call, an afternoon pick-me-up, a bedtime lullaby.

Your hands moved to rest on either side of the surface of the sink below you, supporting your weight as Billy rocked into you with long, languid thrusts. Eddie tried to match Hargrove's pace with the stroke of his hand, envisioning it was his own cock giving you exactly what you needed.

You must have felt fucking good to be buried deep inside of, because Billy, always with something to say, was awfully quiet now.

He watched the other man's face through the reflection in the mirror, saw as Billy's baby blues fervently took in the sight underneath him, knowing he himself would be donning the same expression if positions were switched. Eddie knew Hargrove was admiring your perfect tits bouncing with the force of each thrust, knew he was lost in the dissipated doe-eyes that stared back up at him like he hung the fucking moon, when in reality he was just feeding your cunt some very well-deserved cock.

When your mouth dropped open unprompted, your pink tongue sticking out as far as it could go, that was the beginning of the end for Eddie. Both men knew exactly what you were asking for. Hargrove smirked approvingly at the sight before him, and he slowed the speed of his hips for better accuracy. He gathered as much saliva in his mouth as he could before leaning over you, parting his lips and letting gravity do its job.

Once your mouth was filled, Billy brought a hand to your jaw, forcing it shut. "Don't swallow," he instructed, his thrusts no longer slow and unhurried, but now posthaste and unrelenting.

Eddie could feel the familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, alerting him that his release was maybe a minute away. He fleetingly realized that he was going to have to very quickly clean his upcoming mess and get the hell out of the room before he was caught, but his attention was reeled back in when he heard a series of deep, breathless grunts.

"Okay, shit... spit it out now, baby," Billy was muttering, speech rushed, his head dipped to stare unwaveringly at where your bodies connected. "Oh fuck, spit on my fucking cock."

Eddie watched as you leaned yourself forward, angling your head down to release the spit you'd been holding in from your mouth, just adding to the noisy wetness between your legs.

And that did it. The visual — someone as soft and sweet as you doing something so filthy — had Eddie's toes curling in on themselves in his gym shoes, his hand pulsating around his cock to mimic a clenching cunt as he fucked himself into it. His release spilled out over his fist, dampening the ground below him and the bathroom doorframe. He saw stars.

Billy had followed Eddie right off the brink, muttering praises and obscenities interchangeably as you both came down from your highs. "Listen so well, dirty fucking girl. Always make me cum so hard, fuck, this pussy's so fucking full of me right now."

The sound of the quiet giggles urged out of you by Billy's tickling kisses on your neck were what brought Eddie back to the present reality. He wasn't back at home watching the hottest fucking porno he'd ever seen -- no, he was actually standing in a dimly lit bedroom, covered in his own cum, having just spied on his best friend while she got railed by her boyfriend.

Shit.

Eddie's moral compass came back with a vengeance. He cringed as he rubbed his sticky fingers on the inside of his band tee to clean them, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of crusty white as he made his getaway. He found a towel in a laundry basket and wiped away any remnants of his release from the wall and floor, then tossed it back into the hamper.

Not even able to glance back into the bathroom, his skin now heated from shame and embarrassment rather than arousal, Eddie buttoned up his jeans and hurried out of the room, ready to try and forget that all of that just happened.

About ten minutes later, he was perched against his van about a block from Rick's, where he'd parked. He was smoking a cigarette, having finally began to cool off and calm down. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could convince himself this was all a really vivid hallucination, and maybe he'd be able to compartmentalize his moment of perversion that way.

He just needed to stay away from the two of you for a little while.

But then, because of course...

"Munson!"

Eddie quietly groaned, taking a deep drag off his cigarette to quell his already rapidly growing nerves from just the sound of the other man's voice alone. He turned to face Billy, plastering what he hoped was an easygoing grin on his face.

"Hey, man," Eddie greeted, his voice surprisingly steady.

Billy held his hands up in a 'What the fuck?' kind of way, brows furrowed. "Thought we had a plan," the blonde replied, stopping just a foot away from the tall metalhead. One side of Hargrove's mouth lifted. He looked predatory. Eddie fought back a hard swallow. "Did you even come upstairs?"

"What..." Eddie's brain went blank at the question. Or was it an accusation? It definitely sounded like one, but Billy didn't seem mad. The blonde was just staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Y'know," Billy continued. "Because I told you to meet me in the middle bedroom? For the coke?" What had started as the slight of a smirk had turned into a full-blown grin on Hargrove's face. "You good, Munson? Lookin' a little spooked.”

To this, Eddie sobered his expression, shaking his head. "No, just like, busy night, that's all," Eddie answered lamely. Maybe Billy really didn't know. Maybe Eddie was just hyper-paranoid about having been caught that he was reading too deeply into this. After all, wouldn't Hargrove have been pissed to find out he'd been spying? Wouldn't he already have Eddie pinned against the van, spewing threats? "Lotsa deals. Kinda forgot about yours, my bad. Here, lemme get it..."

Eddie began digging around in his pockets, having forgotten again where the coke was. He blamed the alarms of anxiety going off in his brain (thoughts like fuck, he probably knows, which means she knows, and now she's gonna fucking hate me plaguing him).

But Billy said, "Don't worry about it, I'm good. Got my energy hit a little bit ago." The blonde then looked like he had remembered something, and began looking in his own pockets, "Shit, actually. Ya know what? I have something for you."

Eddie was sure the look of confusion on his face was readable. This whole night was turning out to be a fucking fever dream. He didn't think anything else could happen to make it any more surreal.

And then Billy was reaching his hand out to give Eddie something, that I-know-something-you-don't smirk present again, and Eddie took it without looking. He just wanted Billy to walk away so he could go crawl into the back of his van and smoke himself stupid to avoid any and all realizations and repercussions.

"See you ‘round," were Billy's parting words and Eddie just nodded dumbly, mute, and watched him go.

Once Hargrove was out of sight, Eddie opened his hand. At first, it just looked like an unassuming wad of fabric, maybe a sock or something, small compared to the size of his palm.

Eddie unraveled it, holding it out in front of him, and then very quickly tossed it inside his open passenger window, eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen what Billy Hargrove had just given him —

The matching pair of panties to your bright red bra.

[flayedintheusa]

Overtime

insp: Overtime - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Overtime (5874 words) by flayedintheUSA Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Additional Tags: Getting Together, together but not together, and then they are, they're working it out, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, slight mentions of explicit content but not really, Steve Harrington is Not Stupid Summary: Steve’s willing to cross well-defined lines, willing to take what he can get waiting for Billy to realize they’re not as well-defined as he thinks.

When Steve had called him, he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say yet. It felt stupid, but he was good at stupid; somehow always able to play it off as some goofy charming charisma when he was actually brashly unthinking and a bit dense. Thinking caused overthinking, caused inaction, and he needed action. And that’s what Billy promises: action.

Whenever this thing started, he doesn’t really know. Granted, he doesn’t think about it. He’s pretty sure they were both beyond tipsy and unaware of the others’ preferences. Steve wasn’t even completely aware of his own, until Billy. A denim-on-denim, shirts-versus-skins dream that haunted his synapses, the way he lingered in his imagination. The things he thought in his daydreams. They never would’ve come to fruition if it weren’t for that night. Shots, touch, body, feeling, blazing and burning from the inside out. His imagination fell way short.

It was purely situational. Nothing special. The equivalent of a favor it seemed, sometimes. Steve was lonely and hiding and Billy was hidden away and alone and they were both lacking much options in the podunk town they were stuck in. (Steve wouldn’t ever admit that he’d somehow hit the jackpot of that lack of options. Of all people to also be keen to suck dick in Hawkins, he’d found Billy Hargrove. Denim-on-denim, shirts-versus-skins dream. What a powerhouse; fucks like he’s built to.)

“What?” Billy’s voice comes gruffly over the phone, slightly irritated. He must’ve been pumping.

“What’s up?”

There’s a pause. Steve surveys his mental arsenal of lines. They never have the desired effect with Billy, yet the desired outcome always ensues. For that he can’t claim inefficiency.

“I was thinking about you,” he says with a small smile. There’s the sound of rustling and quick movements. He hears a door slam shut.

“What’s wrong with you?” Billy snaps, all riled. “Talkin’ faggy on my goddamn landline, Harrington?”

Steve snorts, leans back against the wood paneling of the kitchen wall. “When we were at the lake,” he continues as if Billy hadn’t said anything, “and you had your fingers so far up in me your rings were pullin’ at my ri—“

“Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington,” he hisses. He sounds winded. Steve wants to hear it’s because of him.

“You should come over,” he says boldly. If he can be anything, it’s bold. “I’m all alone in my big empty house. Thinking about you.”

It’s like the phone goes dead, it’s so quiet. He’s stubborn enough to say ‘fuck off’ and leave Steve hanging for three days before showing up unannounced at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night. He’s like that. He would, just to prove he can. Because he can; Steve lets him, every time. In the time this strange dynamic has developed, he’s become a bit of a pushover for Billy. A bit desperate for any time he can steal. Any touches he can assuredly say are solely his. Because Billy could have anyone, and he definitely has Steve. Steve wants to call him ‘baby’, call him ‘love’, just to see what happens. But he knows what would happen. Knows it would come back to bite him. Because Billy can’t give himself like that, can’t take the leap, can’t let himself. Won’t. Steve can only hold on while he’s on the ride, and Billy is a wild ride. He can only hope it doesn’t end too soon. Hope that, when it does, the crashing and burning is something he can handle.

“You’re fucking pathetic, Harrington,” Billy says sharply, and hangs up.

The Camaro is in his driveway by 10:48.

The hum of the television, abandoned of attention and blearily playing Johnny Carson, starts to reach his ears again. He can hardly hear it over his own breath as he tries to catch it, huffs a bit indignantly when Billy’s weight settles on top of him on the too-small couch. His hand falls to rest on the taut muscles of the slightly shorter boy’s back, the other unfurling from the bottom lip of the sewed cushion armrest.

They don’t often fuck in the living room. And Steve doesn’t often top. Billy was eager. Or maybe eager for a distraction; whatever Steve might be to him isn’t his business.

He learned quickly it would never be his business. Billy was good at laying clear lines. And Steve tripped toward them almost every time, every time shoved back, never to cross. Because you know what this is, Harrington. And don’t make this something it’s not. It’s better, this way; once graduation date hits the top of the morning paper, Hargrove’s peeling out with his fixed-up Camaro and hard earned-and-hidden cash stash and leaving Hawkins in the rearview. Never to be seen again.

It’s shit.

Because Steve is a softy, and it sucks. People call him golden-boy like that’s something to be proud of. He wishes he were steely, hardened and rusted at the edges, so he could do things like watch Billy take him to the hilt and moan like he’s starved and not want to tell him how fucking beautiful he is and how lucky he’s made Steve feel.

He slips out of the other boy when he stands on semi-shaky legs, and Steve leans up onto his elbows to watch as he pulls his jeans back on.

“Hot date or something?” Steve says with a shallow smirk. Can’t quite make it all the way.

Billy doesn’t look at him. “That’s your business because…?”

The warm, sedate feeling of his high turns sour about his nerves. Nerves that were just peaked because of the boy who no one can hold. Won’t let anyone close enough to try. Steve is getting tired of trying.

“It could be my business,” he shrugs. No big deal.

Billy laughs, harsh and loud, one quick bark. Still doesn’t look at him. “Right,” he drawls. “And we could cuddle up and get all cozy and be the head-honcho homos of Hawkins. Gimme a break.”

“Calm down, man, it’s just a night,” Steve sighs, feeling distinctly rejected. Again and again. Always all over again.

Billy turns to him, his features dark. He’s always more touchy when he’s the one that gets fucked. Steve has tried to learn the proper way to handle his lashes, the right way to ease them. There isn’t one. “It’s not shit, Harrington. I’m not your bitch, stop calling me.”

As if when he calls is the only time he ends up with a bed full of Hargrove.

“You want me to stop calling you?”

He pulls on his boots. He doesn’t answer. He’s lying, always so good about how he lies. How he thinks it’s just the truth and the truth hurts other people because other people are pussies. And Steve Harrington is his bitch, and he likes it that way. He doesn’t want him to stop calling. But he won’t be Steve’s, and that’s not a lie, and that’s what Steve’s afraid of.

He leaves, quietly. His presence was so loud it made Steve forget how lonely it is here. Just for a moment.

The line is hauntingly quiet when it clicks, as if someone had picked up. Steve’s ear rings with the buzz of electricity powering it, straining to hear for something, anything.

It took him too long to get the guts to dial. Started thinking. Overthinking. There wasn’t time to overthink, to create inaction, not after what he’d seen. His grip makes the plastic squeak in protest and he takes a quick, gathering breath.

“Billy?”

Quiet. He waits for it to go dead, like a timed-out answering machine. Only the sound of his own name to be heard if Billy checks it. Something rustles softly. Steve’s ears catch it, fine-tuned as they are to his line.

“Harrington.”

It’s hollow. Like the emptiness of the quiet. Like they came from the same lineage, carrying nothing and still bating Steve’s breath.

Steve’s eyes shift around the bare fridge, traces magnets that hold nothing up. “What happened?”

Steve knows what happened. Maybe not the full extent, but he can infer. Things like yelling and screaming and crashing, followed by as dramatic an exit one can make while obviously limping with blood staining their front, are easy to draw conclusions from.

And Billy had seen his car, parked on the other side of the road from the False-Smile he lived in on Cherry Lane. His shoulders drew high and his fists clenched, probably wondering why problems weren’t legislatively constrained to being dealt one at a time. He burnt rubber on the driveway as he peeled out, and Steve let him. Didn’t chase him. No matter how badly he wanted to. Because just as he runs from his dad, he’s running from Steve, too.

After the last time, in Billy’s car parked at a shady corner of the quarry, Steve was reminded that not planning— that being brash— could also be a horrible, terribly bad thing.

He hadn’t meant to say it. It slipped out. Steve was leaned over the other boy, hands in his hair, lost in the curl of it and the curl of his tongue and the cut of his jaw. His knees dug painfully into the tight sides of the crammed Camaro, driver’s seat not designed to make straddling hot Californians and making out until he was hot and breathless comfortable. He pressed all of his weight into him to readjust his knees, Billy had groaned— a spectacular, wonderful sound— and held his hips down. And Steve felt him— felt buzzed on the taste of his mouth and the soundtrack of his arousal and the feeling of them pressing together between layers of clothes— and, well, kind of whined. Billy’s face morphed like the sound pained him, hips jolting up against Steve’s hardness, and clenched his teeth on the words. “Fuck, love it when you make that sound— love—“

And he froze like there was a gun pressed to the window. Because Steve knows Billy’s never let himself claim to love anything, not after finding out it was always a lie. Always a lie for him. Would never, ever get close enough to Steve to even let him try to prove otherwise.

Steve, unfortunately, felt ignited. Felt alight. Felt hope. Which is terrible. Awful.

So when he said, “You can love it. You’re allowed. I love yours, too.” he should have known the solution would be to open the driver side door and shove Steve out onto his ass, pain shooting up his spine as Billy gunned it out of there.

And, obviously, after that, he didn’t want to see Steve. Didn’t want Steve to see him, especially like that. Hurt and wounded and fleeing. Always hurt and wounded. Always fleeing.

“Nothing,” he says after too long. He sounds tired. Like he’s taken something for sleep and is fighting it.

“Are you ok?”

Another sigh, heavier. “Man, what the fuck do you want?”

Steve shifts against the wall. He hates this. Hates how he feels right now. Hates how he feels for Billy and hates that he won’t ever not be pushing him away, like it’s a waste of time.

“I dunno, man, I wanted to know if you’re ok. That’s like, why I asked.”

“Well I’m just great, pr— Harrington.”

He wants to know what it was going to be. Pretty boy? Princess?

“I know you’re not, and that’s ok,” Steve insists, sliding down the wall a bit. “You can talk to m—“

“You don’t know shit, and it’s not ok,” he hisses suddenly. “Get your head outta your ass Harrington. This is pathetic.”

“Sure,” Steve sighs, waving his hand a bit and sliding a bit further. “This is pathetic.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re saying?” he growls into the receiver. Out of the speaker, it sounds just as hollow. Hollow threats from a hollow boy Steve thought he could fill. You can’t fill other people. You can only help people fill themselves. And Billy is determined to remove himself by the shovel full and all Steve has is his hands. He’s ill-equipped.

“You can say it. That you like things, love things. Even me. I know what you wanted to say.”

“Fuck you, Harrington.” Billy’s rage is evident. Steve hopes he’s safe. But safe people don’t have such unsafe coping mechanisms.

“I’m not it,” Steve continues, slides even further and his tailbone hits the cold tile of his empty kitchen. Empty save for the presence of a hollow boy, of Billy, even just his voice. “I’m not the one, that’s fine. But one day you’re going to make it out and you’re going to be ok and you’re going to let yourself love things and maybe you’ll realize what this was.”

It’s quiet again. The empty silence pierces him further. He’ll realize too late, and that’s what he’s afraid of.

“You done?”

Steve’s head tilts back against the wall. He lets the phone drop and bounce on its cord.

Yeah. He’s done.

Billy’s angry. Always angry, seems like.

The air around him is suffocating, everywhere. At home. At school. On the court. In Hawkins. It’s all fucking terrible. And now, his favorite pass-time (driving too fast on roads too small) is even tainted. The air of his car is suffocating, thinking about the last time Steve was here. Snuffing out the suffocation and making him feel like he could breathe. Straddling his lap like an all-American dream. Making those sounds that make him feel like the furnace constantly swallowing him whole is suddenly in him, lighting him up everywhere.

He pushes the pedal down harder. His engine roars. So does he.

Because he fucking snapped. It finally happened. He knew it would— knew it was a fluke that pretty boy, King Steve, Hawkins High’s very own royal princess, would stoop to Billy’s level. He knew the whole time it was doomed to fail, but from the first moment he was drunk on the blip of that suffocation. It was like gasping for breath, breathing in Steve. It was made to break, but it was only a matter of time before he wasn’t hooked on feeling like he could breathe, feeling like he was unrestrained, feeling like he was himself again. No, he was hooked on Steve. And that’s much, much worse.

His teeth slam together as he thinks about the floppy-haired brunette. The fucking dork. He drives kids around for fun. Likes The Goonies and Bryan Adams. He’s got a complex out the ass. Thinks he’s better than everyone. Always so brash with his words. Acts like everything is always going to be ok. Has this stupid need to make Billy feel good and safe. Has these dimples that suck him in like the beach break. Has these stupid moles decorating his skin like constellations. Has this voice that shatters his nerves when he’s falling apart in, around, on top of him.

And, for some god forsaken reason, Steve was up for it all. Up for everything he knew Billy was going to do to him. Because Billy made it clear— made it painstaking obvious that Shoot to Thrill was all this was. And still— still— Steve Harrington has the audacity to make him feel like Billy was worth it.

He should hate Billy’s guts; he should be punching him in the face. He knows Steve is hurting, can feel it in the way he avoids his eyes, in the way he stays far off, in the way he takes the long way to class, in the way he walks to his car like no one’s watching when Billy’s pretending he isn’t, in he way he doesn’t call.

He takes a curve too sharp, the furnace he exists in burning his skin.

He deserves this.

He doesn’t deserve whatever Steve said: getting out, getting ok with himself, loving things. He doesn’t love things. Things don’t love him. People don’t love him. Love is lies. Even the ones who are supposed to, don’t. They lie. They leave. The ones that don’t, they’re the ones that stick around. Make you pay for being a fool.

His heart kicks at the starting drum of the next song from the local radio station. He’d left in a fervor, his throat closing on feelings he said— he promised— wouldn’t happen. He’d swiped his tapes from the car to drown out the sound of memories, of feelings. When buzzing ears didn’t feel enough like buzzing gravel through speeding floorboards, he jerked his jacket off the hook and left before Neil could say shit about him going out so late. He’ll bare the consequences he deserves later; pretend they’re the fists of the person who’s supposed to be beating him to a pulp to justify it.

And the sound of that drum is engrained in his memory. He could name the song off the first .5 seconds. Because it’s Bryan Adams. It’s Steve’s favorite right now— his number one top pick of the best song out. Which is just disrespectful and Billy doesn’t know how he said it with a straight face. And then he’d sung along to it, eating drive-thru burgers on the hood at the quarry. Mumbled lyrics as it played through his bedroom stereo in the Harrington Castle as he sunk down onto Billy, brow tight and neck strained, chest struck red and cheeks flushed. God he was fucking pretty—

Billy slams the radio off. The vibrating interior and the hum of the road swallows him whole. He thinks of Steve’s face, pouting as he mocked the soloist for posing to get into the Top 10, for being a trashy girly-pop idol, for being Canadian. He’d crossed his arms and muttered about how he played the guitar since he was ten and had a good voice. And Billy sighed and slapped the radio on again and pretended not to find Steve’s obvious feeling of victory cute as he smiled around softly singing along.

“Fuck!” Billy swears, his foot easing off the gas. His hand falls over his face, drags roughly on his jaw. “Fuck.”

He stares out the windshield as the blur of the treetops start to ease back into steady forms. He presses the FM button again.

And that's when I met you, yeah

Standin' on your mama's porch

You told me that you'd wait forever

It’s awful, this suffocation. He’s felt it as long as he’s been alive, it feels like. It’s even worse now that he knows what it’s like to not suffocate. To take the burning and use it. To feel it inside instead of all around— instead of something that steals his oxygen.

It’s terribly, awfully bad. Because he’s good at fighting. He’s good at winning. And he can’t fight for this. He can’t win this.

Steve doesn’t know what he’s got, being saved from him.

Oh, and when you held my hand

I knew that it was now or never

Billy turns it up. Pretends he can’t hear Bryan Adams. Pretends he can hear Steve. Pretends he’s out of here. That he’s ok and he loves things and he wasn’t too late.

Those were the best days of my life

It might be his favorite, too.

He buries himself.

He doesn’t really have a choice; if he doesn’t step up his proverbial academic game, he doesn’t stand a chance at graduating. Nancy’s taken pity on him, helping out with his English and History assignments. He finally finished the conclusion to his English paper on The Catcher in the Rye and is moving swiftly to WWII flash cards with too many names and dates to stick.

He should have paid her for this, seriously. He knows she feels badly about how they ended, but pity won’t buy you and your boyfriend tickets to the drive in.

He jolts awake with the ‘Battle of the Bulge’ index card stuck to his face when the doorbell chimes through the house obnoxiously. It’s 10:32 at night. He hangs his head and contemplates not answering. It’s crash-course week. Cramming o’clock. Brain-hemorrhaging-knowledge integration time. He doesn’t need this.

Even still, he’s not strong enough to say no. Hasn’t been, for the past four days.

He walks down the stairs like it’s tedious, because it it. He’s busy. He runs a hand through his falling hair, the product in it having reached its life expectancy, and thinks maybe it was intentional that he didn’t pull a shirt on. It’s unusually hot in Hawkins for end of spring, and he’s wearing his loose grey sweats. He’s comfortable. It doesn’t matter.

He opens the door to Billy, his hand in one pocket and the other holding Steve’s anatomy notebook.

“What’d you find now?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know. He only looks at Billy’s face, and even that hurts. He knows he’s wearing that navy shirt, unbuttoned too far. His pendant is always framed by it perfectly. And he looks like he doesn’t care, like this is a chore, but the first night— Sunday— it had been a pair of shorts from his car. Last night it had been his Three Dog Night album Steve had him take because he’d ‘never heard of ‘em’ (yeah, ok. Sure).

Billy flips the notebook in front of him, between his palms. “Thought you’d need it since you’ve suddenly got a boner for learning.”

Steve huffs a bit at that. He’s not sure if Billy’s trying to torture him with this sudden, strange break in their routine. Not really sure what it’s about. He’s not going to hope for anything about it, because hope is dangerous and he hasn’t been given any warnings to ignore this time. At least last time, there were rules— rules he actively chose not to follow, but still rules. And entertaining a rule-less Hargrove is about as deadly as playing with a safety-less gun.

“Yeah, well,” he sighs, reaching a hand out for it. “Some of us also plan on leaving at some point. Most colleges like GEDs.”

Billy’s fingers play along the edge, run over the bound black spine holding the composition notebook together. His chin jerks up a bit. “Oh, yeah? Where you escapin’ to that you think daddy won’t pay for?”

Steve feels his jaw tense. He steps back a bit, hand tightening on the doorknob. Something swift and hardly noticeable flashes over Billy’s eyes. Steve likes to imagine he doesn’t see it. It’s hard not to, after having seen all the parts of him he hides away.

“Don’t know,” he says stiffly. “Don’t care as long as it’s not here, y’know.”

And Steve knows he does; Billy wrote that script. Steve bought it, plans on producing and staring in it all on his own without his fucking dad looming over him. He just has to get through next weekend to prove to the man that he’s serious about a future, whether or not it’s with the family business.

“Yeah,” Billy says, eyes finally breaking from Steve’s. They rest somewhere around his chest before falling to the floor.

“Yeah,” Steve repeats. He lets go of his death grip on the doorknob, sliding his hands into his pockets. Whatever stockpile he has of Steve’s shit that he’s passing off one at a time, it’s not going to work. Maybe he didn’t make it clear enough. Maybe he needs to be upfront. Something about not having Billy come on his own volition, without incentive, just because, it’s hard to give up. The past couple days, he’s found himself wondering, waiting, for this exact moment. When Billy might show up. Might linger, like he wants Steve to invite him in. Like he wants to know he wants Billy to stay. He does. He won’t. They’re out of time. Time to escape the hollow, instead of finding a way to bare it.

He clears his throat, watching as Billy still holds his notebook too close to his abdomen. Like he’s not ready to offer it. Not ready to have no reason to stay. “Listen, if you find any more of my stuff, you can leave it with Nance or in the mailbox,” he shrugs. Hargrove’s knuckles tighten around the cover. “I’ll be outta town tomorrow night ‘til Saturday. Gotta get the grand tour of the New York office before I can tell ‘im to stick it, y’know,” he chuckles. It’s empty. He overshared.

He had before, to take the obvious overhang of Neil off of Billy’s mind. He talked about his own dad, how sometimes absence and expectations held a different kind of pain, different kind of trauma. He can see it in the way Billy’s arms tense, the way his jaw firms around words he won’t say, floating around a brain Steve always wants to pick, always not allowed to. His eyes fall to the floor, he mumbles ‘So…’ and tries not to feel so fucking small. “I’ll be back on the first, if you wanna drop anything off then, too,” he says, just trying to fill the silence. His heart feels too big. Like he’s burning with the secrets he’d shared that he shouldn’t have. If he keeps lingering, Steve might actually give him what he wants just to make this feeling stop.

“You good?”

It’s tight. Too many words crammed only into two. Steve shrugs, doesn’t look at him.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Whatever.”

He wants him to touch him. To put his always too-hot hands, like he caries California sun in his skin, on him and loosen his muscles. To look at him with those unmasked blue eyes, like he takes the ocean wherever he goes, and make him feel stagnant. To kiss him with those lips, always seemingly shifting like beach sand but really as sure as redwoods, and make him feel steady again. Like he can hope for this. Like there’s more than the hollow.

“Ok,” he says suddenly. It comes out heavy. He can’t hold the door open any more; it feels like staring through the veil of desire— death to the touch. Billy doesn’t want this. He wants to know that he was wanted— that he still is. That’s what Steve reminds himself. He holds out his hand for the notebook. “Thanks.”

God forbid, Billy put the stack of notes in his palm.

No, higher powers always make Steve eat his words.

Billy’s hand is in his before he can really register it; is pulling him through the veil before he knows what’s happening. His notebook is on the floor, his lips on Billy’s, before he even finds his footing.

And it’s terrible. Awful. Bad. Because he’s tried so hard. Done so good. And it’s all for nothing. The second he gets the contact he pretends not to crave, he’s melting into the kiss.

He’s said it before, and it rings true: he’s ill-equipped. Steve’s not capable of thinking properly with Billy invading all his senses, and he bares down with a goddamn platoon, this invasion. Like all those words he can’t say are being spoken through his frantic lips, every word pushed right into Steve’s mouth. The smell of his cologne, of quick wind from fast driving and bad-habit cigarette smoke floods his olfactory. A smell that’s trained him like a dog to let in the intruder. His hands find Steve’s bare skin like they’re hungry for it, starving from the absence of touch, and move over his body with selfish, greedy palms.

Steve’s helpless. He’s weak for it. He lets Billy back him up, back into the house, and turns him to press into the wall beside the door. It slams shut when he kicks it closed. He should have known the thing that would get Billy back into his house would be force, not request.

Steve’s never been one to back down, especially in the wake of Billy. He pushes back against his lips, teeth clicking together, sucks Billy’s tongue into his mouth as his hands slide up his semi-bare chest and over his collar bones, around his neck. It’s like a cheat code, the way Billy’s body falls against his. Slumps, like his touch makes him just as weak. Steve feels crushed, between the weight of him and the hard of the wall.

He bites into Billy’s lip, like he knows drives him a little bit wild, also knows he likes to do that first, and pushes his hands into the tight skin of his chest and shoves. Billy staggers a bit with no more Steve to hold on to. His dark eyes fall on the older boy like a challenge, and Steve’s own chest puffs a bit, fists curling.

“Go home, Billy,” he advises firmly. He should really get an award for it.

He cocks his head to the side a bit, advancing a step and smirking surely. “Oh, you want me to go home? That’s what that was?”

Steve simmers under his skin. His head spins, still drunk on his smell. His touch. The feeling of feeling him. “No. And you know that. It’s fucking cruel and unusual punishment, whatever you’re doing.”

His brow sharpens, eyes suddenly wary of connecting with his. He must not have been prepared for an up-front answer. He doesn’t usually get any, his life like a riddle he’s been unable to crack. Solve.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Steve scoffs and opens the door, swiping the anatomy notebook off the ground. “I don’t know, Billy. It’s not like you’re exactly easy.”

Billy’s struck by that, the confirmation of that thing he’s always wanted. To be hard to read and unknowable, because all of the things that have known him have left. It feels scarily fraudulent here, to be confirmed by Steve. To realize that maybe Steve is one of the only people he might actually want to know him. Like he won’t leave. Because he didn’t. He let Billy push him away, but he didn’t leave.

He decides to take it in stride. Lean into it. Because, what’s there to lose? They graduate in a week. Nothings promised. And that could be nothing, a big nothing. But it could also be something. A big something.

“I’m here because you’re here,” he says. He wants to say and that’s where I want to be, because that’s what he feels. But it’s hard to say that. To admit those things that leave him feeling stripped and vulnerable and flayed open, able to be crushed and hurt all over again.

Steve rolls his eyes. His body is angled toward the door, like he’s ready for Billy to walk out, to flee, because that’s all he’s ever done. “Of course I’m here. I live here.” It’s weak at best.

Billy steps into his space, puts a hand on the edge of the door and pulls it closed slowly until Steve’s forced to come back inside. Forced into Billy’s space. Forced to look at him. Billy takes a steadying breath. “I’m here because you’re here,” he repeats. He tries to be open, like Steve. To force his mask off.

Steve visibly flinches, his nose twitching with his lip as he takes advantage of the door behind him as a steadying surface. “Don’t do that.”

“You want me to swear on something?”

“Billy—“

He can hear the plea in it. Billy won’t break him. He’d break himself in the process, choosing to suffocate instead of breathe. Being honest is suddenly not as difficult as he thought. That goody-two-shoes, scouts-honor, cringe shit feeling suddenly like, instead of being stupidly vulnerable and delicate, it could help him get the only thing he’s ever wanted badly enough to almost ask for a beating.

“Steve,” he says, soft and sure. “I turned up Bryan Adams.”

Steve sinks against the door. It looks like it hurts. “You hate Bryan Adams,” he says. It sounds like a last ditch effort. Like to anyone else it would mean nothing. But Billy knows what it means. He’s cracked the riddle. He doesn’t need it anymore.

“I love when you sing it.”

He wants to cry. He’s not sure if it’s because, for some reason, the heart mending can feel almost exactly as painful as the breaking when sprung upon like this. He wasn’t prepared for it. For Billy to come here and break him open just so he can nestle inside and tell him he’s ok with it, he’s learning to love things. Maybe it’s not too late.

“We’re graduating. We’re out of time.”

“We’re graduating,” Billy shrugs, let’s his lips tilt a bit. “We might have all the time in the world. Overtime exists, y’know.”

Steve wants to laugh. His whole deficit is suddenly pumped full, though, and he’s afraid. “You don’t know that.”

He seems to readily take the leap. Like he was expecting it. “I know I want you.”

“That’s bold,” he says before he can help it. Because that’s usually his thing. Being brash. Being brave.

The blonde’s hands slide against his waist, the band of his sweats. He tilts his nose up against Steve’s, his proximity drowning out his better judgement. Steve may always be ill-equipped, no matter what. Especially when it comes to Billy.

“I know what this is.” His fingers dig harder into Steve’s skin, like he meant it. It’s the final blow. The last straw, is what it is. He’s glad Billy’s holding onto him, or he’d probably do something stupid like exalt. “I know. It’s not easy, but I know.”

And it’s not an apology; Steve knows better than to expect that. Once upon a time, knowing what ‘this’ is was not a comfort. It was a definition. Lines drawn in sand. And Steve knew, too; agreed and never really meant it. Never really wanted whatever it was to be all it was. He never thought he’d get to watch Billy trip to cross the line instead, and he’s not going to shove him back. Billy better know that.

He wants to say easy was never part of the plan. Wants to say that Billy’s worth not easy. Wants to say he’s known and been ok with it and been happy to love and lose and hurt if it meant he had the chance. But things like that have their place, their time, and Steve has a feeling it’ll come like a wave at dusk, quiet and easy, to wash away all those sand-carved lines.

So, instead, he buckles down. Buckles in. He can be bold, can help Billy be bold. “Do you want to stay?”

When the other boy smiles, it’s like everything before flattens. Crushed under the weight of this new agreement. The timeline is collapsed; it’s dead and gone and past is past and he’ll happily hand Steve the shovel if what he wants to do is fill him. He’s got time for pretty boy to smooth his edges, if he really wants to try. He’s got time to breathe, to be ok, maybe even to love. Maybe he even already does.

He’s got time to not be too late, to not be out of time.

He’s got time for overtime.

[makeadealwithdean]

nsfw — 18+ only, harringrove smut

Billy inhaled the smoke into his lungs and let it out with a soft puff. The boy in the passenger seat beside him was still rambling on about something or other. Not that Billy wasn’t listening— just it was really fucking hard to pay attention to what Steve was saying when he looked that damn good.

Fuck— Harrington. Billy hadn’t been lying when he’d called him “pretty boy” so soon after they’d first met. ‘Course he was able then to pass it off as teasing, taunting, even. Like a good, old-fashioned, high school rivalry. No one would possibly read into that.

Billy guessed it was different if you were on the receiving end of said taunting, since reading into it had gotten Steve to where he was now, sitting in the front seat of Billy’s infamous Camaro. In an empty parking lot.

“And so then, somehow, I got roped into giving them rides everywhere and—”

“Jesus, Harrington!” Billy interrupted, throwing his cigarette butt out the window and onto the asphalt. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Steve snapped his mouth shut fast, turning towards Billy and looking almost hurt in his soft eyes. But upon catching the wicked grin spreading across Billy’s face, his expression shifted from absolutely appalled to slightly confused, and yet, intrigued.

“Um…yeah?” Steve began hesitantly. “I do shut the fuck up, mostly when I’m not being forced to carry the whole conversation, Hargrove.”

And there was that bitchy, “King Steve” attitude Billy had heard so much about. Good, he thought, all the more satisfying when I’m the one to make him close that pretty mouth.

Billy smirked at Steve’s pouty lips, his huffy shoulders, now facing more towards the passenger side window than straight ahead, and huffed a laugh.

“And what’s so funny to you?” Harrington snapped. His snarl reminded Billy of, mmm, an angry kitten. He was just about as intimidating as one and twice as cute. “Y’know, I don’t appreciate you asking me to hang out with you, and then the second I do, you—”

Billy scoffed, interrupting him again and still smirking.

“Y’know,” Billy mimicked his tone, “you keep talking, and all I can hear is you begging me to shut that mouth for you.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, “I— I don’t— um, what—”

Billy rolled his eyes, “C’mere, pretty boy.”

He reached forward, his fingers finding the nape of Steve’s neck, just barely brushing through those famous Harrington locks, and gently pulled him closer. To Steve’s credit, he didn’t pull away, and soon Billy’s hand was cradling his jaw, he was leaning in, and Harrington was letting him.

Billy hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath, but then their lips touched, and Billy definitely sighed. Steve’s lips were melting onto his, and fuck yeah— so this is what kissing Steve Harrington felt like.

Billy guessed he couldn’t blame the girls he’d heard tittering at school about “making out with Steve” accompanied with dramatic, dreamy sighs, cause this was something else.

He’d intended for this kiss to break the ice, get his intentions across, etc. But he hadn’t accounted for the softness of Steve’s lips, the barely-there flick of his tongue, and the intensity with which he returned Billy’s initial touch.

Harrington’s palms were cupping his cheeks now, and though he seemed content to let Billy take the lead, he mirrored each of his touches with a growing passion.

Billy’s hands were everywhere in an instant, Steve’s thighs, his neck, his chest. They dipped inside his jacket, and the boy shivered into his touch. Billy smirked into the kiss at the reaction he’d elicited and decided right then and there that he needed more.

He fumbled for the hem of Steve’s shirt, unwilling to tear their mouths apart, and upon finding it, slid his hand underneath the fabric and up the soft bare skin. He traced the outlines of Steve’s curves, the firm edges and contours of his muscles, up into a patch of hair dancing between his pectorals that Billy hadn’t even known existed until this very second.

“Shit, fuck,” he muttered into Steve’s mouth. Billy’s cock twitched in his blue jeans at the feeling on his fingertips. If he’d been half hard before, he was definitely fully up now.

He reached up into Harrington’s pretty brown hair and tugged, effectively tipping the boy’s head back, and breaking the kiss. Steve let out the prettiest moan Billy had ever heard as his lips pressed against his neck for the first time.

Billy showered the pale skin with kisses, soft at first— then harsher, biting and sucking, and relishing in the gasps and moans that fell from those pouty lips.

“Billy,” Steve sighed, his hands roaming all over the tan skin of the boy in front of him. “Shit— Billy—” he forced each word out in a new breath, almost like he was gasping for air. “Fuck— I—”

“Hmmm?” Billy hummed, letting the very tip of his tongue trail up towards Steve’s earlobe.

Steve was grabbing onto his thighs, thumbs brushing the outline of Billy’s dick, over and over again, like he was willing the fabric separating them to disappear. “N-need— Ohh.”

Steve’s moan was nothing short of sinful when Billy let his hand drop to the boy’s crotch, where, as he’d hoped, his jeans were now tenting painfully. “Mm, what do you need, baby?”

Steve only hummed as Billy pressed the heel of his hand against his hardness, like he couldn’t remember what it was he’d needed.

“Use your words, hm? S’all you wanted to do a second ago, remember?”

Steve squeezed his hand over Billy’s dick again, “Wanna— feel you?” He’d said it like a question, but suddenly Steve was moving, pressing Billy back into the seat and climbing into his lap. He straddled him easily, sitting back onto Billy’s upper thighs, maneuvering until their clothed erections were pressed against each other.

Billy sat back and watched as Steve pecked his lips once before attacking the buckle of his belt.

“Holy fuck, yes,” Billy groaned as he watched the angel sitting atop him prying at the leather that sat so snuggly around the denim at his waist. He lifted his hips up to give him a hand and started working at Steve’s own belt.

When they’d both succeeded in ridding each other of the offending material, Steve had the button of Billy’s jeans popped and the zipper down before he could even blink. He was working Billy’s cock out of its confines by the time Billy found any words at all, and even when he did, all he could come up with was—

“Eager there aren’t we, Harrington?” though it didn’t come off quite as confident as he’d hoped. Not when his hips were practically rutting up into Steve’s hands on their own accord, and his breathing sounded like he’d just hiked a damn mountain.

“I guess we are,” now it was Steve’s turn to smirk, though his hips were moving slightly too, like they were fighting to meet Billy’s. His breath was warm and somehow sweet, and tendrils of his always-perfect hair clung to his sweaty forehead. He guided Billy’s hands to the button of his own jeans, and muscle memory must’ve been helping cause thank god Billy managed to free Steve’s length without too much fumbling.

Steve pushed first his own jacket off his shoulders, before coaxing Billy’s off. He slipped off his shirt, but left Billy’s shirt on him, opting instead to only unbutton it all the way, leaving the bronze expanse that was Billy’s chest fully bare to him.

“Touch me, Billy,” Steve murmured, and Billy coaxed him up onto his knees so that he could tug his jeans and boxers down as far as their position would let him.

Steve’s hands were on the back of the seat on either side of Billy’s head, and Billy took this golden opportunity to not only grab Steve’s ass, but also to tip him forward enough to bury his face in that soft patch of hair on his chest.

Their cocks were trapped against their bare stomachs, sliding and rubbing against each other as Billy pulled Steve’s hips towards him over and over again. Steve’s tip was leaking pre-come all over, and Billy was dying to taste it. Next time. Right now, he needed to come. Fast.

Something about the most perfect boy he’d ever seen basically, practically riding him was proving to be way too much for his brain (or his dick) to handle. He reluctantly released Steve’s ass, giving him a harsh squeeze and a little smack, before holding up his palm to Steve’s mouth.

“Spit,” he ordered. Steve obliged and sat back a little, allowing Billy to grab both his own aching cock in one fist and Steve’s in the other.

“C’mon, doll,” he panted, rhythmically stroking his own dick while the fist around Steve’s remained still. “Fuck m’fist. Wanna see you put on a show for me.”

“Fuck, baby!” Steve moaned loudly at Billy’s words, deciding that yes, that was hot as hell, so he’d do as the blond commanded him. He braced his hands on Billy’s shoulders for an experimental thrust of his hips.

“Thaaat’s it,” Billy praised him as he slowly gained speed to match the other’s fist. “So good for me, aren’t you?”

Steve whimpered, nodding as the pressure in his dick only seemed to build. His release was coming fast, but he desperately wanted to wait for Billy. Luckily, Billy must’ve felt Steve’s cock twitch in his fist.

“Yeah, baby?” he huffed as Steve pressed their foreheads together briefly before tossing his head back in pleasure. Fuck, he was beautiful. “You gonna come for me?”

Steve nodded and whimpered again, his eyes pleading, like he was begging Billy to keep talking.

“You wanna come all over my fist, Stevie? All over my chest, huh?” Billy wasn’t gonna last much longer. “You wanna come with me, baby?”

Those must’ve been the magic words, because Steve gasped like Billy had just given him a gift, “Yes, please— let me— with you!”

“That’s it, doll. Perfect,” the blond panted back in short breaths. “I’m gonna come, you gonna come? C’mon— oh fuck yeah—” He grunted, his forehead dipping onto Steve’s chest as white ropes shot from his cock, covering his fist and splattering against Steve’s stomach.

“Shit— shit, Billy!” Steve called as the other’s orgasm pushed him over the edge. Streaks of creamy white covered Billy’s fist and chest as he worked them both through their releases. Steve shuddered against him when he let go to grab a towel from the floorboard, hunching over his body, caging him in and not caring that he was smearing their cum all over both of their chests. He sighed, satisfied, and Billy couldn’t help but bask in the post-orgasm glow, Steve Harrington in his lap, his hot breath fanning over his neck.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “I gotcha.” Steve kissed his hair softly and laid his cheek on Billy’s shoulder.

He was hesitant to do it— he usually never let himself relax after sex, but he couldn’t bring himself to push Steve off. More than that, he didn’t want to. He wanted to sit here, run his fingers up and down the boy’s back, comfort him or calm him, whatever he needed. He wanted to pull him close and hold him tight; this felt nothing like the after-sex usually did. Somehow, this was safe, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Yep, Billy decided. Cleanup and the towel could wait.

beta’d by my love @hintsofhoney i love you I love you

Work for @billyhargrovebingo and @steveharringtonbingo

Squares filled: B3 "Put on a show" (Billy bingo) and A3 "Harringrove" (Steve bingo)

Title: do you ever shut up?

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Smut, literally just car sex, no penetration

AO3 link

[jinxtoyerekko]

Billy Hargrove x gn!reader

Warning(s): Trauma, working on trauma, yelling, kinda insulting

Summary: You've been dating Billy for a while, and you once again had to remind him that he is not in danger when he's with you.

Feel free to request:

-------------------

"I'm home!!", you exclaimed happily as you walked into the house you shared with your boyfriend. He'd moved in with you just a few months ago and you loved every single second of it.

Billy, on the other hand, was really overwhelmed and confused. He loved you dearly and would do anything for you, but it was weird to him how devoted you were to him.

You smiled as you went to check your garden, smiling when you saw Billy cleaning up the pool you two had. You leaned on the door frame and crossed your arms as you were watching him.

Billy didn't notice you for a while but almost had a heart attack when he did. "Jesus!! (Y/n)... Say something!"

You laughed softly and walked to him reaching for his face lightly, though he pulled back, almost flinching.

You paused and pulled your hands back, this time reaching only for his arms and being much slower. "Sorry, baby. I didn't want to scare you."

Billy shook his head and leaned in to give you a soft kiss. "It's okay." He raised you up into hid arms and hugged you tightly. This wasn't new to you, so you just kissed his head and played with his hair.

After a few minutes of standing around, he set you down again and kissed your cheek softly. You then took his hand and pulled him along into the house.

"How was work for you today?", you asked him as you sat in the kitchen slowly while he got out some glasses and two bottles of juice for the two of you.

"Well...", Billy started slowly. "Some kids decided to mock me, my coworker feels the need to make fun of me for being all soft around you all the time, my break was spent with cleaning shit up and some other kids decided it'd be fun to throw shit at me." Once he finished explaining, he picked up the juice box and tried to pour some of it into his glass.

Though, when he raised it to put it away and close it, it slipped from his hand before it felt onto the table and against the glass, knocking it down.

The juice was all over the table, and the glass hand shattered when it fell to the floor.

You quickly jumped you to check on your lover first. "Are you okay, baby? Did you get hurt?"

He looked at you, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed at you. "Go away. I have to clean that up."

You looked at him worriedly. "But Billy-"

Before you could finish he had stood up quickly, almost scaring you, if you hadn't known he wouldn't hurt you.

"I said, I have to clean that up. Move!"

Usually, you would step back and quietly let him do his thing, but not this time. You grabbed his arm and looked up at him. You weren't rough, though. You held him, but not painfully. Just enough to get his attention.

"Sit down.", you said firmly. "You had a bad day at work. This was an accident. I'll give you a new glass and clean up sí you can drink in peace."

You then kissed his head softly before you started to gather the glass shards and wiped up the juice on the table and from the floor.

Throughout the rest of the day, you regularly checked on Billy, making sure he wouldn't overwork himself and had everything he needed.

He'd been fine after that all day, but when dinner was ready and he sat down, you noticed him looking weirdly angry.

"Are you okay, my love?"

You never thought that such a simple question would make someone get so angry. You had never thought it'd hurt and upset someone so bad. But it did.

Billys fist met the table as he glared at you. His voice was booming through the house from how loud he was when he yelled: "Will you stop asking me that god damn question?!"

You turned to him, shock written all over your voice and your voice soft as a kittens fur. "Honey?"

"You've been asking me that stupid question all day! Did you make it your mission to baby me or what?!"

"Love..."

"Shut up! Just leave me alone, okay!? I don't need you to spend your whole day around me and treat me like I can't take care of myself!"

"Billy..."

"I can take care of myself just fine without you!"

"Billy!"

He fell silent at the tone of your voice and that gleam in your eyes. You weren't angry, and you weren't sad either. All there was was worry.

"Think about what you just said to me, Billy.", you said softly and seemingly he was thinking about it.

He could take care of himself without you, but he didn't want to. He didn't need you to spend your day around him, but he liked it when you did. And the question wasn't stupid at all... because he was everything but fine.

He lowered his head as he started to realize this, his hands trembling, and he felt something he had felt plenty of times before, but never did he want to let that out. And he still didn't want to... but he did anyway.

You walked up to him slowly and hugged his head against your chest as you placed soft kisses on his hair. "It's okay, baby. Just let it all out. All those years of pain and suffering. I know what you've been through. You told me, remember? And I promised I'd always be here for you."

As Billy cried quietly into the side of your arm, you just kept on talking to him, hoping to help him feel at least loved by you.

"This world has done you so much bad, you deserve to feel something good. I don't care what I need to do, but I will make sure that you know I love you."

Your hands gently took his face and made him look up. "Tell me what's going on. Please."

Billy was quiet before he closed his eyes and let you hold him while he spoke. "I feel stupid. Really stupid. Because all day I've been.... fighting with myself over the fact that... I want to be vulnerable with you but can't."

Your expression softened as you xaressed his face. "But aren't you being vulnerable right now? Also.... how often have I cried with you? At your side, being overwhelmed and confused or even angry at others or myself? You held me through it all."

You leaned down to kiss his lips before slowly whispering to him. "It's now finally my turn to hold you through your pain, okay? You're what holds me stable when I'm hurting, so I'll do the exact same for you because you, William Hargrove, are the absolute best person I have met in my entire life and I would do anything to ensure I'll get to keep you."

Billy kept crying as his face just melted into your hands, your soft kisses working magic on his sensitive, bruised skin. Your touch felt healing, for his soul more than anything else, but that hardly mattered.

He loved you, and you loved him. That was all that mattered at that moment, and it'd be all that matters for a long time.

"I love you, (Y/n)."

"And I love you, sweetheart."

-------

Masterlist:

[sweet-villain]

A Feeling~ Flayed B.H

Anonymous asked:

Oh. My. God!!! That flayed Billy was amazing!!!

Can I request a more softer version of flayed billy, maybe when he was regular Billy the reader was Billy's gf and even though he's flayed now he is still protective and super soft with her which confuses the gang

If you aren't doing request I totally get it but you're work really is amazing! Thank you for sharing your talent

Tagging : @woahlifehitsyahuh @cinemaquinn @pleasantlycrazyworld. @moonchildquinn @haileighboi @ceriseheaven @witchy-munson

" Would you quite your staring at him?" you hushed whispered smacking Steve in the chest while he stood frozen in his spot as he eyed Billy sitting on the grass. But this wasn't the Billy you used to know. This was Flayed. After everything that happened, Mind Flyer dying, you had managed to save Billy along with Max. Flayed never understood why you would save him, he has done so much harm and caused so much damage. Yet, you stood by his side.

" It's not normal that he's hanging around us, he's dangerous" Steve whispers looking over at you for a brief moment as he looked back to make sure Billy still was sitting there.

Flayed was very aware on how the gang felt being around him and yet he found comfort in being around them, spiting at them if needed and when they said something about you, he was hot on his heels and ready to fight.

" You don't know him like I know him" Steve scoffed as she shook his head. " What are you two ladies talking about?" Robin makes her way over to you as she sits in between you and Steve.

Steve glared at her for a moment before he answered, " That one over there." He motioned with his head towards Billy. He was busy watching Max skate on her skateboard as Dustin and Mike sat on the sidewalk.

" His name is Billy Hargrove and he's my boyfriend" Robin gave you a look staring at his back. " You know he's not the Billy you know and love. He's completely different"

You nodded, " I know. He trust me, he knows me and I believe there is a part of him that wants to be loved."

Steve snorted.

" He doesn't know the meaning of the world love" Steve mumbles.

" Last time I checked Harrington, you don't even have a girlfriend and haven't been laid in months" Robin gasps as Steve grits his teeth, fisting the grass with his hands as he glared.

You were about to listen anymore to Steve's nonsense as you headed towards where Flayed sat with his legs outstretched and his hands behind him. Once he felt you presence next to him, he turned his head watching as you sat down next to him.

" What's wrong?" he asks noticing the look on your face. You were all smiling and happy before you went over to Steve. " What did Harrington do?" Flayed was ready to sock Steve in the face if needed. No one was going to upset you on his watch.

" It's nothing" you shook your head, leaning your head on his shoulder. His scent hit your nose, it's much different than your boyfriend. It wasn't the Billy Hargrove scent you were used to. This was one was muskier, stronger but it wasn't disgusting. It suited him.

" I don't like it when you hide things from me, kitten" you shivered at the pet name. His hand came up to twirl a piece of hair in his fingers.

" Please don't worry about it" Flayed hummed, he dropped it but he was going to talk to you later about it. He wasn't about to leave the conversation like that.

A van rolled up on the opposite of the street and Eddie stepped out, Dustin stood up from his seat as he ran over to him to embrace him. Will ran over to help Eddie up while you laughed watching Eddie push Dustin away.

The laugh made Flayed smile as he glances down at you. Eddie makes his way over and stops before you and Flayed. His face holds a deep frown eyeing Flayed sitting right next to you. He scrunches up his nose at the sight of Flayed black veins still lingering after everything. What did you see in him? Eddie didn't understand.

" Is there something on my face, Munson?" Flayed asked. Eddie looked over at you as your eyes pleaded him to be nice.

" Why do you hang around us? You're nothing but a monster. Monsters don't have friends or people that love them" Eddie looks over to you watching as your eyes turn cold and a glare forms on your face.

Flayed face drops as he glances at the grass biting his tongue not wanting to lash out on him in front of you. If Eddie wasn't your friend then he'd be torn into two by Flayed.

You stood up from the ground dusting your ass from the dirt as you stood almost nose to nose with Eddie.

" Who gave you the right to talk to him like that? You don't know him. You're quick to judge him" Eddie rolls his eyes as he motions with his ring clad hand at Flayed. " He has veins on him, he doesn't feel anything and he doesn't belong here. Not with you. Not with us" Eddie spats. " Who knows? He probably wants us dead."

You hadn't noticed that Flayed had gotten up off the ground and walked off. He didn't know what came over to him but he feels like Eddie was right. He doesn't deserve you. Not like this. Not when he's a monster. He's not the person you love. He's not Billy.

" Oh look I scared him off" Eddie laughs throwing his head back. You turned to look over your shoulder to see that Flayed was no longer there. Your head snapped in all directions to spot him when you saw the back of his head making his way to the Camaro.

" Flayed!" you yelled, making a run to his car but he's already getting and starting it before racing off. Your shoulder slumped, stopping in the middle of the streets with tears in your eyes.

Your friends watched as you throw your hands up and walk in the direction he drove off too.

" She must really love him" Robin says as she stands next to Eddie.

𖥸

You were digging into your father's tools and garage, looking for a flashlight and anything else you needed. The door to your house opened wide and you heard your name being called.

" Down here!" you hear footsteps as two heads peek into the garage. " Woah" Dustin says as he steps inside looking around. " This is so cool" you roll your eyes finding the flashlight finally. Your head turns to see Steve, Robin and Eddie.

" What are you doing here?" you asked. " Have you caused enough damage for one day?" Eddie winces at your tone as he looks away from you.

" Look we want to help" Robin says putting her hands up.

" Help with what?"

Steve motions his hands to you, " Whatever it is your doing. We are worried. I'm worried" you chuckled, shaking your head. " Listen, you don't understand. I love him. I don't care what you say or think. He means a lot to me. I can't lose him, I can't" your eyes become glossy.

Tears are running down your cheeks, " I lost him once and I'm not losing this Billy. You might not accept for who he is and understand what it's like having him around. But he makes me feel safe..."

" You really love him, don't you?" Dustin asked. You nodded wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

" He's my person even if this is who he is now" Eddie sighs.

" I'm sorry" he says.

" you shouldn't apologize to me Munson" Eddie nods.

" Let go find your lover boy"

" With viens" Robin adds, she shivers. She doesn't particularly liked that you were dating Flayed Billy Hargrove but one thing she knows is that he brings you happiness.

𖥸

It was no use in finding Flayed without El's help, she knew where to find him. She had went into Billy's memories before and you were sure she could find where Flayed was.

Hopper opened the door when you knocked on it in desperate need of help. He frowns as he eyes the rest of the group behind you.

" What is it?" Joyce walks behind him as she eyes you. " Sweetheart? What's the matter?"

" We need to find Flayed Billy" Robin answers for you. You were biting the inside of your cheek, too nervous to speak out the words. Hopper laughs as he runs a hand down his face.

" Why do we need to find him? He's dangerous for what we know" you shook your head. " Please, Hop" Joyce rubbed Hoppers chest as he looked down at her.

" What's going on?" a familiar voice you heard step behind Joyce as she looked from her father to you. " Y/N?" she asked.

" Y/N here needs your help, sweetie. Billy has run off too and she can't find him" El frowns playing with the sweatshirt of her sleeves.

" Why did he go?"

You look back over at Eddie who shifts back and forth on his feet.

" He got his feelings hurt" you tell her. Her eyebrows shoot together in confusion. She is aware that this isn't the same Billy she saw. He was different.

" What does that mean? Feelings?"

" There is a possibility that he feels things that my Billy felt"

She swallows the lump in her throat searching your face seeing the pleading look on your face.

" She loves him El" Will says.

She nods. She was going to help.

𖥸

El sits on the ground with a bandana over her eyes as she goes into her mind, the headspace in search for Flayed Billy. She turns around in circles not knowing where to start. Then she hears the familiar sound of a Camaro and sees the lights to it. The door opens and Flayed Billy steps out wearing a leather jacket, his hair isn't in usual curls and he turns to lean against the car with a cigarette in his mouth.

" Those are bad for you" he hears a voice speak to him. His head shoots up in confusion as he looks for the sound of the source as his eyes land on El. She found him.

" What are you doing here?" He leans off the Camaro as he stares at her, one foot in front while the other is behind as he carefully eyes her.

She walks over to him in small steps, hesitantly.

" I'm not going to hurt you" he tells her. He can feel her fear for him.

" Y/N is looking for you" he should of know it was you who would bring poor El into this. His shoulder slumped as he hangs his head.

" Tell her not to look for me, I'm not good for her" El hesitantly reaches out for his hand in her own not believing a word he says. He knows you love him and she can see there is something happening as she reaches for his hand. His eyes snapped towards her hand in his. It's warmth and comforting.

The only hand he had held was yours.

" She loves you" his eyes glass over at her words. It's really rare that he hears those words and he knows you use them quite often but he wasn't Billy. He can't give you the love that you deserve because he doesn't know what it feels like.

" I'm not her boyfriend" he refuses to acknowledge that he is anything like Billy at all. There is darkness in him and he is learning to live with who he is now.

" You are, this" she points to him, " this is you now. She knows it and loves you. I saw it. Her eyes. Her face"

Flayed tells El where you can find him and when El returns back to you, uncovering her eyes from the banana she nods telling you where he is. You scrambled to your feet racing out the door, but not before you rush back over to her pulling her into a hug with a thank you.

𖥸

You had to borrow Steve's BMW to get to the location where Flayed was. It was dark and there was mist around the abandon building. His Camaro stood on the side. You slide out of the car, zipping up your jacket and taking the flash light that Eddie had gave you telling you that you needed it before you left.

It was quite and not a sound near as you closed the door of the car heading your way into the building where you think it's where Flayed is located at.

" Flayed?" you called out. It might of been stupid to call his name out without knowing if something or someone was going to jump at you. But you took the risk, he was worth it to you that much.

No response was given back to you. You continued to make your way inside looking over at the rusty covered in cow webs tools and closed cabinets. There was stairs going down on your right, they were black with what looked like blood as you flashed the flash light looking at it.

A cold shiver went down your spine as you took the first step. You paused as you heard someone walking up the steps. There he was as he turned to face you.

Flayed stood there with his blue eyes shining underneath the flash light, squinting. His black veins stood out as he licked his lips with his hand up covering himself from the light. His usual curls were matted down a bit and he wore a leather jacket over the shirt he was wearing with jeans that you usually saw him in.

Your hear raced at the sight him locking eyes with him, moving the flash light away from his face.

" Flayed.." the corner of his lips lit up in a smile hearing his name come out of your mouth. It flattered as he remembered your friends talking unkindly about him.

" I've been looking all over for you"

" You found me" he says walking up the steps but brushing past you. A pang of hurt fills your heart at the way he brushes past you.

" are you not happy to see me?" you asked. He looks at you over his shoulder with a grimace. He was happy to see you, he was getting used to the feeling of happiness. Normally, he didn't feel anything and found it really unlike him to start to feel this way.

You took his silence as he didn't want to see you.

" I-I'm sorry. I just w-wanted to know that your okay" He closes his eyes cursing to himself feeling his heart race at the way you care about him. You shouldn't.

" T-Thank you" he mutters out to your surprise. " Flayed?" you called out his name but he stands there like a statue not knowing what to do. His back is to you and you can't get him to turn. You walk up the remaining steps and make your way over to him. His head is hanging when you face him, shielding his eyes away from you. There is a beat of sweat on his face causing his face to glister.

Your hand raises to brush his curls away from his face and cup his cheek in the palm of your hand. You feel him lean into your touch and this is all new to you since he isn't the type to be like this with touch.

" Flayed?" His head raises meeting your eyes. For the first time in a long time it feels like this isn't Flayed anymore. It's your Billy. His eyes are brimmed with tears as he looks down at you.

" Go.." he whisper, shaking underneath your touch. You blinked not believing what you heard. He wants you to go.

" W-what?" he swallows as his chest raises up and down in panic. His eyes are wider than usual. " Go" he firmly says. " Please.." he adds.

" But I-" he cuts you off with a glare, " Go!" he yells out causing you to jump as you pull your hand away from him and back away. Your own eyes filling with tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry" you mutter out turning around as you ran to Steve's BMW. Flayed stood there with his fist to his side as his body shaking, his heart feels like it's in two with the way he scared you and how you care about him.

What was happening to him?

𖥸

You laid in your bed curled up in a ball, sleeping soundly when your window opens slowly and a figure steps inside. His musky strong smell hits your nose causing you to scrunch it up. Flayed steps slowly into your bedroom not wanting to wake you up. He shrugs off his jacket dropping it on the ground and turns to look at you.

His lips light up in a small smile watching you sleep soundly. But frowns seeing the dried up tears on your cheeks. That was his fault. He crouches down near your bed and brings his hand up to brush away the hair that fallen on your eyes.

The touch wakes you up. Your eyes flutter open as your vision lines up seeing Flayed there. You scrambled up in bed and moving back with your eyes widen. His heart aches seeing the frighten look on your face.

" I'm not going to hurt you, kitten" he says putting his hands up showing you that he won't. The bed dips as he sits on the edge of the bed turning his body to face you.

" Listen, I've come to realize some thing" you fist the bedsheets with one hand as your breath hitches as his hand reaches out to grab onto your leg. The touch causes a shiver down your spine.

" This isn't easy to say" he says licking his lips. " Kitten, I know I am not your precious Billy. I'm different" you nodded listening as he continues, " I'm not the one that will tell you those words you tell me." He closes his eyes feeling the need to look away but he opens his eyes as he pushes through what he wants to say.

" You know I am not the one who likes doing the romantic thing guys do" you nodded, " I did learn things about you, I want to be around you. I do. But I've learned that certain things frighten me, being with you for a long time, showing you feelings or whatever I am feeling-" you cut him off.

" Flayed? Are you joking?" his eyebrows knit together in confusion on what you mean. " How are you having feelings? I thought you can't have feelings" this has your attention now. This is pretty big deal.

He shrugs, " I feel things in here" he says patting his chest " think about a lot of things here" he points to his head.

" What do you think about?" He swallows the lump in his throat. " Future with you" you gasped putting your hand over your mouth.

" Flayed..." He shrugs again as this is his way of telling you that he wants to be with you, his way of telling you that your his and that this was for a long run. This was his way of telling you he loves you too.

" Oh Flayed" you wrap your arms around him. His cheeks are flushed pink and his stomach feels like someone is doing flips. He bits down on his bottom lip not knowing what to say.

" I want it too. I want you" you pressed your forehead against his, a smile on your face. Flayed matches your own with a small chuckle.

Things were going to be okay.

𖥸

You stand in the middle of the living room with Flayed by your side as your friends sit around, looking over at him with double looks on their faces.

" Okay, listen. I'm going to have your ass if you hurt her" Hopper says pointing to you. " She's really special girl you have there" He adds.

" Beat ass" El says as she and Hopper do a fist bump. You chuckled watching them.

" I won't hurt her, never" Flayed says as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to his side.

" Excuse me, I need to go barf into the sink" Dustin says. " Please none of that around us" he motions to the affection between you and Flayed.

" We are still getting used to this" Robin says as she motions towards Flayed. " These too" she points to the veins on his face.

You tapped your foot on the ground waiting to hear an apology from Eddie who's been sitting staring at his hands rather than speaking.

" Is there anything you want to say, Eds?" you asked him. He slowly rose his head to meet your gaze as he cleared his throat.

" I'm sorry man, about before. You know. I was rude and don't know you that well to judge you or whatever" Eddie says. You would take that apology any day from Eddie if it was like that. You knew he wasn't okay with you being with Flayed because of the whole Mind Flyer thing when Steve explained it to him.

" Thank you" Flayed says. Everyone in the room goes silent hearing him say that.

" That feels so weird" Steve says.

" Are you sure you're real?" Mike asks.

" I'm happy for you two" Will says, smiling. Joyce squeezes his shoulder, nodding her head along too that she was happy for you two.

" We're still not okay with this whole thing, but welcome to the gang" Nancy says.

" I still don't like him" Steve says.

" I don't like you either, Harrington" Flayed says, lacing his hand with yours as he pulls you closer making the room groan.

" I think it's cute!" Joyce says. More groans fill the room.

[eashmo]

7 minutes in hell, or is it heaven? Part 14

-Summer Love-

Warnings: smuty chapters, fluff, and lots of angst.

a/n: short chapter again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

*one year later*

*y/n pov*

It was the first week of summer break, and that means community pool days. I went with Robin on our days off from the video store. She was never amused because she knew the real reason why I went. But she always Accompanyed me anyway. I decided on wearing a black bikini that I just got pairing it with Billy's red button-up for a swimsuit cover.

"This is going to make him drool." I thought. He liked it when I wore his clothes.

We made our way through the crowd to find our seats, which happened to be next to the groups of moms. I took out a book as I waited. 

“Show time” one of the moms says, and on cue Billy walks out of the employee office door.

“Gross,” Robin whispers.

Rolling my eyes, hiding a smirk.

He blew his whistle, and everyone froze. “ Hey, lard ass, no running on my watch, i got to warn you again, and you are banned for life. You wanna be banned for life lard ass?” he snapped at a poor kid who shook his head “no” “i didn't think so” Blowing his whistle again, everyone resumed their activities 

He walked in our direction “afternoon ladies” he says 

“Afternoon Billy.” All the moms seductively said. 

“Dig the new suit, y/l/n” he says

‘Thank you, Hargrove, ' I said as I peered over my book, giving him a smile. Biting my lip as i watched him walk to the lifeguard stand. 

*small time jump*

“So you're just going to read all day?” Robin asks.

“I haven't been reading all day, Ro-Ro.”

“Staring and Drooling over Hargrove does not count, and you know it”

“Oh shut up” I smack her shoulder with my book.

“Lets go swim y/n, i know you want to show Hargrove your bikini fully” she smirks. 

“Fine, let's swim only because I'm dying in this heat.”

“Suuurrreeee” she says as she escapes my hands.

Doing a couple of laps I could feel a pair of eyes on me the entire time. I felt like I was on fire under his stares. It was becoming overwhelming, so I decided to get out of the pool while robin was already on her way to the snack bar. 

“Looking good out there, princess” I turned to see Billy walking up to me.

“Thanks” 

“Perfect form” he said as he handed me his towel. 

“Well we all know your form is amazing …….with swimming, of course.”   

He chuckles “you know i could teach you more if you like”

“Oh really?”

“I know all the styles, freestyle, butterfly…..breaststroke” his voice getting huskier, he puts a piece of gum in his mouth, suddenly i want to steal the gum from his mouth with my mouth. 

Dropping my towel from my daydream, we pick it up at the same time.

“i didn't think you taught adults”

“Well, I offer more, uh, advanced lessons to a certain girlfriend.” he smirks. 

Giggling “Well she must be lucky then.”

“Indeed she is, come to think of it. There is a good pool in her backyard. It's very quiet, you know, very private because I know for a fact that her parents aren't home” he says as he grabs my chin. His lips ghosted mine.

“hm” 

“Shall we say tonight? Eight o’clock?”

“Hm i'm sorry, i can't” i tease

“Cant what? Have fun?” 

“ i don't think i need any lessons”

“Oh, you see, I think you do, I just don’t think you've been practicing enough. It will be the workout of your life.” he smirks 

“See you later, kitten.” Billy purrs in my ear as he walks away, smacking my ass in the process.

Shaking my head “this man will be the death of me.” 

“You ok, y/n” robin comes into view with two hamburgers and sprite. 

“Just peachy” i laugh, making our way back to the chairs. Motherfucker made me hot and bothered in public.

Previous Chapter

Part 15

Masterlist

2023

[fortheloveofscisaac]

Imagine Catboy Billy as a kitten he would be so small and so cute. He would have the biggest blue eyes ever!!! I also imagine him with an oversized fluffy tail that he wraps around himself so he looks like a puff ball with ears. Imagine him curling up next to Steve for a nap and him just happily purring off to sleep!!!!

[tommydarlings]

Ruined Makeup | b.h

pairing: dom!billy x sub!reader

warnings: smut, cnc, dacryphila, spitting, slapping, choking, hair pulling, name calling, oversimulation, dumbification, billy is reaaaally mean in this

w/c: 1.5k (lmao I got totally carried away)

summary: billy loves seeing you all fucked out with mascara running down your cheeks.

masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3

The wood of the floor was a bit uncomfortable under your naked knees but that was the last worry you had at the moment.

"Where's your mascara?" Billy asked you sternly as he looked down at your fragile figure kneeling infront of him. You looked at your boyfriend with pure confusion written over your face. Why the hell does he want to have your mascara right now?

"Uhm, second drawer, I think" you answered him as you thought about all the possible things why he would need your mascara for now.

Directly after billy found your black mascara, he grabbed it and closed the drawer kind of aggressively. He bend down right infront of your kneeling stature before he muttered deeply,

"Open up your eyes for me" you had a questioning look on your face but it's billy motherfucking (literally) hargrove, and who are you to disobey him? So, you opened your eyes wider so that he would be able to apply the dark mascara on your lashes.

To your surprise, Billy was actually pretty gentle with applying the mascara and was pretty careful not to poke your eye out or something like that.

"Good girl, perfect" he praised you as you sat still for him while he did his job. Next, he closed the mascara again and threw it carelessly away. "Hey! Be careful with-"

"Shut up" he growled as he grabbed your jaw tightly and squeezed it a bit together. "Do you even know why I just put some mascara on your pretty lashes, or are you already to fucking dumb to even know that?" to be honest, yes, yes you were that fucking dumb because you really had no clue."You really are that fucking dumb already, huh?" he laughed sadistically before he basically 'threw' your jaw to the side and gripped your neck firmly as he pressed you harshly up against your closet. You clutched your own tiny hand around his big one as you tried to losen his grip a bit but it was completely useless to fight against him.

"aww, is she to weak, hmm?" he whisperd quietly as he squeezed your throat a bit tighter. "It's okay baby, shh, it's okay" he murmured gently as he starred into your eyes with a emotion you couldn't really read.

"You still got no idea why I put mascara on your lashes?" he asked you once again but you couldn't do anything expect to shake your head as much as you could from side to side, signaling a tiny 'no'.

"hmm, that's a shame, isn't it babydoll?" he questioned you as he slowly loosened his grip on your throat.

"Should I explain to my dumb little kitten why I put mascara on her lashes?" you nodded with your head as you waited for his answer patiently.

"Because I wanna look what her pretty little face looks like when mascara is running down her wet cheeks. When tears are flowing out of her eyes while she's begging me to stop. I wanna watch how the mascara is completely destroying that innocent look she's always wearing on her face like the perfect little girl that we all know she is not, I know your a slut who just wants to get fucked until she can't even speak properly anymore, I know that baby, believe me I know" he told you quietly as you began to grow nervous.

"get on the bed" he muttered to you before you stood up and went, again, into kneeling position on your bed. "On all fours" he ordered you demandingly as you faced now the mirror that you had behind your bed.

"I love your pretty face babydoll, belive me, but today I don't want to see it until it's ruined with my spit, our cum and your wonderful tears" he said right before he pushed his hard cock in your already wet pussy and started to thrust in and out of you.

"ahhh, fucking hell" you cried out into your pillow as Billy picked up the pace. "Fucking shit dollface, this pussy was fucking made for me to fuck it endlessly, isn't that right, huh? Answer me" he demanded loudly as he suddenly pushed your face further into the pillow with his hand and tilted his head so he would look down at your figure. "Y-yes! Yes, that's r-right billy" you whimpered louder and louder as you felt your orgam approaching you quickly.

"wanna cum lil slut? Huh? Wanna cum all over my cock you pathetic useless lil thing?" he asked you aggressively as he pushed your sweaty face more and more into your big pillow. Billy looked down and tried to focus on the feeling of his wet cock slipping in and out of your poor hole, he laughed hatefully as he picked up his pace and thew his own head back, taking the pleasure he was feeling from sliding in and out of your cunt all in. You screamed out in pain and pleasure as he changed the angle a bit. "Oh fuck, p-please, please!" you screamed as you felt your orgam only seconds away.

"C'mon slut, fuck yourself dumb on my cock, let it all out" he muttered quietly into your ear as he didn't stop fucking you ruthlessly with his cock from behind.

"stop billy, s-stop" you cried out as you felt how tears were dripping down your cheeks onto the pillow. "Oh I'm not done with you baby, not yet" he whisperd right before he grabbed you wildly by the back of your neck and twisted his hand roughly into your messy hair as he made you look at your fucked up face in the mirror.

"Fucking hell, look at you doll, look at that tear stained face, look at the beautiful mascara running down your cheeks, completely ruining that inncont little face of yours, you look like a fucked out lil slut, you hear me? your just enjoying fucking yourself stupid on my cock don't you? Yes you do babydoll, I know you do. C'mon, don't stop, go on fucking yourself to tears on my cock, fuck yourself dumb."

"Please s-stop, I-I can't anymore-"

"You can and you will, I'm gonna fuck this pussy dumb, you understand me? Fuck. it. dumb" he said in a singing kind of voice just to mock you before he started to rub your sensitive clit with his fingertips.

"No! n-no, please, I'm begging y-you, please s-stop, I c-can't give you another- oh my fucking shit!" you cried out in pain but also pleasure. "It's t-too much billy, it's-"

"Shut the fuck up and take it slut, let me fuck your pretty little head dumb, would you?" he asked you with a cruel smile painted on his lips. "Look in the mirror" he ordered quietly. You didn't even understand anything anymore, you were stuttering like a lil baby trying to say it's first words. He twisted his hand harder into your sweaty hair and pulled your head up so you would stare right into the mirror.

"Look in the fucking mirror, you already so fucked that you can't even follow a simple task like that? I'm disappointed" he shook his head in pure disappointment while he laughed watching your body and especially your face in the reflection of the mirror. He moved his one hand so it was right infront of your mouth. "spit" he ordered quietly. You slowly collected a ball of spit in your mouth before you opened your mouth and let it run from your tounge down onto his open palm. "good girl" he praised you quickly before he took his hand back and pulled his dick out of your used hole for a few seconds.

"Don't s-stop please-"

"Oh now you want me to go on? You were literally begging me five minutes ago to stop and now you don't want me to stop using your pussy for my pleasure? Pathetic, fucking pathetic" he growled loudly as he collected some of your guys cum on his hand with your spit and entered your with cum filled cunt again. Billy leaned his body slightly forward and wiped one of the many tears away that were rolling down your face with his thumb before he grabbed your jaw with the other hand. "look up for me" he demanded quietly but clearly. Suddenly he slapped you right across the face with his spit and cum covered hand and laughed spitefully before he roughly stuffed his fingers into your open mouth and made you gag on them with a smirk on his face. Right after gagging you, he decided that he fucked your mouth long enough with his fingers and grabbed your face again and made you look in the mirror as he whisperd into your ear.

"Told ya you would fuck yourself utterly dumb while you face is covered in your tears, my spit and our cum"

And fucking hell was he right.

Because when you looked over your should to take a quick glanze at him, only then you realized that he wasn't even moving his hips anymore. You were fucking yourself absolutely dumb on his cock. Only you.

[fizzigigsimmer]

PLEASE I'm begging you tell us a little bit about how the photoshoot goes

“Harrington?” Billy stares at Jonathan in disbelief. He can’t have heard that right. It was disconcerting enough to find out that Steve was involved with the calendar at all - Jonathan is the only one that Billy has kept up with from high school, but he knows by adjacency that Byers still talks to others. Then again his roots were always deeper in Harrington’s world than Billy’s were, even when it made little sense. If Jonathan had swooped Billy’s ex, they certainly wouldn’t be in a position for Byers to ask him favors.

It’s been more than two decades, so on some level Billy understands why Jonathan hadn’t thought to mention that ‘hey, I’m putting together a holiday calendar for a charity campaign for three legged kittens rescued from fires. I’ve asked a few personal friends to model, but I could really use your star power’ meant that Billy was volunteering to spend an afternoon pretending to dom Steve Harrington in front of at least five of their old classmates. But considering how the non-relationship between he and Steve ended, he’d have thought to at least run the concept by himself if he were in Jonathan’s shoes, before letting that name roll off his tongue over coffee as if it were no big deal.

Then again, maybe Jonathan knows exactly what he’s doing. Because with a whole company to run Billy’s not exactly searching for things to fill his time with, and yet he cleared his schedule just for the chance to see Harrington up close and personal in what can only be described as the worlds barest attempt at a costume. Apparently a pair of skintight pleather pants and a string of Christmas lights around the neck is all that’s needed to convey the idea of a Christmas elf. Admittedly the prosthetic ears are a nice touch, but still. Jonathan babbles about a series of mini storylines involving sexy santas and their naughty submissives, each culminating in what basically translates to soft porn. Nothing you couldn’t see on a movie poster or the cover of a romance novel, but something to get the people excited.

Billy hears none of it. All he sees is Steve’s skin, bathed in LED glow illuminating the dark trail of hair down his chest. Fuck. He can’t even swallow for a moment, his mouth is so dry.

“Harrington?” He finds himself repeating later, this time softer and with far more imbued questions, to the man himself.

“Hargrove.” Steve straightens from his slouch in the chair as Billy approaches, and that doesn’t mean anything, like at all, but something inside Billy still thrills at it. Wants to walk away just to call his name again and see him rise to attention. “Hey. Small world huh?”

Steve sounds nervous, but Billy relaxes at the obvious attempt at small talk that Steve makes. This is run of the mill polite awkwardness, and not any of the other things it could have been.

“Yeah. Jonathan roped you into this too huh?”

“Jason actually. You remember him? He was the year below us.” Steve says, the golden bell on the end of his striped hat jingling as his fingers alternately tug and tuck at the long strands of hair falling out from under it. Skittish. It’s criminal how good he looks in a derpy hat with soft brown hair framing his face. Stepping up to the edge of the chair he’s sitting in Billy can see the dark eyeliner and the shadow painted on his eyes to make them pop. Whatever Jonathan is paying the makeup artist he needs to double it, because the innocence of those big bambi eyes looking up at him. Fuck me. Like Harrington needed any help in that department. Like the memory of Steve staring up at him from the gymnasium floor isn’t seared into Billy’s hindbrain already.

Steve coughs a little in the back of his throat and shifts in his seat. It’s the minutest little movement but Billy’s gaze latches onto it like a circling bird of prey. He suddenly becomes cognizant of their position. Stood toe to toe with the legs of his chair, Billy is looming over Harrington, blocking both his escape and his vision but Steve isn’t signaling his discomfort or telling him to move. He’s attempting conversation despite the obvious nerves, prolonging the interaction.

“Yeah I remember him. Played for the JV team right?”

Billy wants Steve nervous and afraid - because in this moment he kinda wants Steve’s everything - but not like that. He doesn’t want Steve afraid to talk to him, over some misconception that he’s still hung up on high school bullshit, so he gives ground and lowers himself into the empty seat beside Steve to watch the way his chest falls with the first release of relieved breath before legs, followed by the rest of him, angle themselves toward Billy and he rewards Billy’s good memory with small smile.

“Yeah. We were roommates for a while in college before he and Eddie got together. You know -”

“Yeah I know Munson. Hand me that, will you?” Billy leans against the arm of his chair and into Steve’s space to interject, because you’d be hard pressed to find a former student of Hawkins High school who didn’t remember the resident dealer, and because Steve’s shoulders are tightening with each word along with his grip on the chair arms; because he’s talking to Billy and it’s obviously uncomfortable, and Billy just wants him to stop thinking about it. Steve blinks as he stutters to a stop in surprise, before his gaze follows the direction Billy indicated with the nod of his head and finds the pitcher of water on a little tray with drinking cups that some PA has set upon the coffee table.

“Oh! Yeah sure.” Steve smiles, relaxing now that he knows what Billy wants. And it shouldn’t be possible - all Billy wanted to do was give him a reason not to think - but he’s watching Harrington’s pupils widen and the tension in shoulders unwind just that easy, like his whole body is grateful for this new purpose, as he leans forward, bending that beautiful body over the coffee table, fixing Billy a drink like that’s just the natural conclusion to the realization that he has a thirst.

“It’s crazy how hot it gets under studio lights right?” He’s talking, smiling invitingly as he turns to offer Billy the glass of water in his hand and shares some memory involving a theater and the kids he apparently teaches. And it’s not that Billy isn’t listening to every word coming out of those perfect lips. It’s just that there is no room to process them right now in the face of Steve Harrington unfurling like a butterfly out of a cocoon, finally at ease in Billy’s presence, all because Billy gave him an order to follow.

[madneedshelp]

Jealous Much? - Steve Harrington x Fem Reader/ Billy Hargrove x Fem Reader

———————

This series will have two parts and then I’m writing two separate endings, one for Billy and one for Steve because I can’t choose who to pick so I’ll just write both let you pick :)

Summary: Y/N needs to keep her mind off of her crush on Steve Harrington, so what better way to do that than a little fun with Billy Hargrove?

Part one:

As you stood in the noisy kitchen, wearing a little black dress that was way too little for Halloween night, you realized how badly you wanted to go home. You should've never put on the stupid witch costume and showed up to this stupid party. Nancy had asked you and Jonathan to show up though, and you weren't sure if Jonathan would, so one Byers twin would have to be enough. 

Your eyes found Steve and Nancy dancing in the corner. They had dressed as characters from "Risky Business." You felt your eyes lingering on Steve for a moment too long and cursed yourself. You weren't going to do this. You liked Nancy, and you liked that Steve was happy. A stupid crush was not going to cause you to hurt both of your friends. 

Instead, you got another refill of punch and checked the time. It was late, and it looked like Jonathan wasn't coming after all. A spark of hope flared in you as someone walked in the door, but it quickly disappeared. It was just Billy Hargrove.

Just Billy Hargrove seemed like a bit of an understatement, if you were being honest. He had on a leather jacket without a shirt underneath, and his muscular chest glistened. You weren't sure if that last part should've been attractive or disgusting, but he looked too good for you to debate that too heavily. 

Billy marched straight up to Steve, and you groaned. You just loved when boys liked to have turf wars about who was "King" or some shit. Nancy broke away from Steve and paced into the kitchen herself. 

"Hey. What's in this?" Nancy asked, peeking in the punch bowl.

"Pure fuel! Pure fuel! Whoo!" One of the more intoxicated bystanders answered before you could say, "Tastes like ass."

Nancy poured herself a cup and started to chug it. 

"Whoa, I wouldn't recommend doing that, I'm like three cups in and halfway to shitfaced," you joked, but then watched as your friend drained the cup. "Everything okay, Nancy?"

Before Nancy could answer, Steve sauntered over and leaned against the counter. Nancy went to get another glass before he stopped her. 

"Hey, whoa, whoa! Take it easy, Nance," He went to grab the cup. 

You could sense an argument about to ensue, and took that as your cue to exit. You wandered into the living room, glancing back at the not-so-happy couple. They definitely seemed more tense as of late. Not that you were hoping for bad things between them, you did want your friends happy. You had just noticed some fighting, that's all. 

You tossed your punch cup into the garbage and headed over to the crowd of people dancing. You may have exaggerated the whole "halfway to shitfaced" line, but you were feeling slightly buzzed. Just enough that you were feeling like dancing. 

"What's a pretty girl like you doing looking at Steve Harrington like that?" A husky, male voice whispered in your ear.

You turned to face none other than Billy Hargrove. 

"What's a douchebag like you think is worth bothering me for?" You smirked, eyes roving over the boy standing before you.

"Ohhh, so the kitten has claws. Didn't peg you for the jealous type," Billy returned your smirk and took a drag from his cigarette.

"What can I say, I'm full of surprises." You took the cigarette from his hands and took a long drag before returning it to his fingers. 

Billy stepped closer and snaked his free hand around your waist. "Don't look now, but it looks like 'King Steve' can be jealous too." 

Billy's eyes flashed to Steve momentarily before drifting back down to you.

"He has no reason to be jealous, so that seems like a load of bullshit to me," You rolled your eyes.

"Well what do you say we test that theory?" Billy leaned his face closer to yours.

You knew Billy was just looking for a way to rile Steve up. He was new in town and wanted to make this place his domain. Really, it made him kind of an asshole. You realized all of this, but  at that moment you didn't care. You decided to make the worst possible choice you could, just for tonight.

"I'd say you have a deal, Hargrove." You twined your arms around Billy's neck and pressed your lips to his. 

Billy wasted no time in stubbing out his cigarette on the nearby ashtray and moving both hands onto your waist. They slowly drifted lower and lower. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You couldn't help the small noise you made when he slid his tongue into your mouth. Maybe this distraction wasn't such a bad choice after all. You’d been good for a decently long time. Why shouldn't you be able to let loose a little? 

"Let's move this upstairs," He drawled against your lips, in between kisses.

"Agreed," you breathed.

"Hold on tight, sweetheart." Billy's hands went to the back of your thighs, and you kept your arms around his neck as he hoisted you up.

You didn't have to look back to feel Steve's eyes on you as Billy carried you upstairs. In fact, you didn't look back. You weren’t going to let Steve Harrington overrun your thoughts anymore.

———————

The second part will be linked here tomorrow:

Part Two

[sunwarmed-ash]

In case I disappear for a few days longer than expected, here's a bunch of Stranger Things one shots I wrote over the years

Jawbreaker

Harringrove, Explicit, future au, tattoos, adult content, MGK inspired, 5k

Kitten

Harringrove, explicit, BDSM, future au\different first meeting, sex toys, collars, Daddy kink, 4k

Trick or treat freak

Harringrove, explicit, hate sex, Halloween party rewrite, fighting, 2k+

Dynastud

Harringrove, explicit, gay chicken, Robin our lesbian wing man, mutual masturbation, 4k

I think I'm okay

Harringrove, explicit, unhealthy relationships\coping mechanisms, rough sex, 1.5k

Spaces in between insane and insecure

Stonathan, explicit, sex for drugs, bottom Jonathan, smut, 3k

I think I need help

Harringrove, explicit, Slow burn, smut, angst, boys falling in love?, hurt comfort, darker back story for Billy Hargrove, happy ending, 48k

Make sure you read all the warnings for this one!

[got-to-love-a-badboy]

Request - Your story for sinking Billy Hargrove  is amazing do you mind like doing a one shot of Billy finding out that y/n is prego [Billy, Billy like mean Billy finds out]

You’re shitting me!

Billy Hargrove x y/n

'Friday night!' You thought to yourself, which meant one thing, party at the lake, hook up with Billy Hargrove and getting absolutely wasted. You and Billy had been hooking up for a few months now, not too serious, well not at school anyway, he would come around your house some nights, pick you up to go for a drive when his dad had been an ass hole.

At school was a different story, he would wink at you and because the two of you hung out in the same crowd you were always together but nobody would know that the two of you were sleeping together, except Lisa, your best friend.

It kind of hurt you because you loved Billy more than you would tell him and way more than he knew, deep down you hoped he cared more but the doubt always stopped you asking.

You looked forward to the lake parties the second you heard someone mention it, you had been feeling run down lately with all the studying, late nights with Billy and cheer practice, so you thought a party was just what the doctor ordered.

As you was getting ready for the party a sudden wave of nausea came over you, you had to bolt from your vanity to the bathroom where you threw up all your stomach contents, "damn cafeteria food!" You told yourself before returning to the vanity still unable to shake off the sick feeling.

Finally once your make up and hair had been done you chose your favourite dress, a tight fitting hot pink body con dress with your black kitten heals, you really had to squeeze yourself into the dress, fitting extra tight on the stomach and breast area, thinking nothing of it you adjusted the girls in your bra and headed downstairs as Billy would be picking up in 10 mins.

Once you see Billy's Camaro pull up outside you head out of the door shouting goodnight to your parents. You step inside the Camaro and see Billy with his signature look, hair curled to perfection, shirt open just the right amount and his jeans tight enough to stop his balls working.

"You look good y/n", he told you very monotone, he was never one to give compliments or be soppy but this was him trying, "aww thanks Billy, you look hot yourself, I wish I felt as good as I look, I threw up when I was getting ready, that shitty food at school I'm not eating it again" you moan to him, "y/n you better not throw up, I'm not kidding I will let you walk home" again very monotone, he was not kidding.

The two of you made conversation on the drive to the lake, as soon as you arrived Billy started taking beer out of the trunk of his Camaro, you headed off to find Lisa.

Not long after setting off you found her on a bench with a few people, "y/n! Hey girl, I'm glad you made it, you aren't looking too fresh though are you ok?" She asked you, "yeah I'm fine I think I ate something bad at school, Billy has driven me here so don't think his driving helped" she laughed at your reply.

Your girl group met up with Billy and the boys as the night went on, you had stopped drinking around an hour ago  as you felt sick again and right now you had your head on Billy's shoulder while he laughed and joked with the group, all of a sudden you shot up and ran behind a tree to again throw up.

Billy looked at you a little worried from the park bench he was on, Lisa ran over to you to help out.

After you had finished the two of you walked over to your crowd of friends, "can anyone give y/n a lift home I think she is really sick", they remained silent for a minute before Billy put his drink down and said "fine Il take her home but y/n I mean if you throw up in my car and your walking the rest of the way sick or not", you couldn't be bothered entertaining his need for drama so you just replied "ok Billy".

He managed to get you home without been sick, you quickly left the car but not before Billy said "il see you at school".

The morning rolled around and you felt no better so you stayed in bed, you did this for a few days.

Finally Lisa showed up at your house wondering where you were, you let her in and the two of you sat on the couch watching tv, you began filling her in on your bug, "ugh Lisa is has been horrible, constantly being sick, I haven't eaten anything even the thought of food makes me want to throw up, actually are you wearing a new perfume because I'm sorry but it's making me feel the same way", Lisa looked at you shocked by your harsh comment, "ok I'm going to let that slide, don't panic ok but you know my brothers girlfriend just had her baby like 3 months ago" you just nodded in response, "well remember when they were living at my house and I would tell you what she was like at the start", your eyes shot open wide, you knew what she was getting at, she just nodded at you, "what if you aren't sick y/n, what if this is morning sickness".

You began pacing around the room, "I can't be, no, no way, I'm going to college next year!, I'm not, obviously I'm not pregnant!.... Am I? Oh god, what if I am, Billy will kill me, my mom and dad will disown me!", Lisa ran up to you and pulled you into a hug, "nothing is going to happen like that ok, just breathe, I'm going to the store and getting a test, I will be back in 10 minutes ok, let's not panic until we know huh", before you knew it she had left.

The two of you paced your bedroom floor, you with a test in your hand waiting the 10 intense minutes it stated on the box.

Finally the colour appeared, "what does 2 lines mean Lisa?", your friend looked at the instructions in her hand and Simply said, "I'm sorry Y/N".

Your first reaction was to run, so you did, "I have to go", and with that you ran, you didn't know where you was headed until you arrived at 4819 cherry lane, you looked up at the house in shock that you managed to get here, Billy's car was on the drive but his dads wasn't.

You walked up the rickety old steps, once you reached the door you gave a timid knock before Max answered, "hey Max, Billy home?" She just moved aside and said "bedroom, left at the bottom", you simply gave her a nod, you had been here many times before unbeknown to her.

You gave a quiet knock on the door only to hear Billy shout back "go away Maxine!", "uh it's me Billy, y/n".

Billy soon came to answer the door, "what are you doing here? Where have you been I haven't  seen you all week, your not still sick are you" he asked, unsure of how to answer all the questions thrown at you, you decided to try explain, "kind of but that's why I'm here Billy I need to speak to you", he went back in the bedroom and sat on the bed, "ok so first of all I want to apologise, I am so so sorry Billy, I didn't want this to be the case and I don't like it as much as you won't", Billy looked at you exremely confused, you decided to just start.

"Ok Billy yeah iv been sick, well not so much sick, I'm ..... fuck, ..... Billy I... we are...., ugh....." you broke down crying, "y/n tell me" he said abruptly, you felt like the Penny had dropped, he just needed you to say it.

"I'm pregnant Billy", it was out. He just got up and walked over to his mirror with his head down for what felt like an eternity, you decided to go up behind him, you looked at his face in the mirror, the vein on his head was out indicating he was angry, "Billy talk to me, please.", you didn't get a response from him although he did look up and look you in the eyes through the mirror.

"This was an accident Billy, we aren't ready for this.... But we can do this".

He flipped, shooting around to look directly at you, "are you fucking kidding me y/n, 'we can do this' what sort of bull shit answer is that!, how can we do this!, you're going to college in a few months, I'm living here with this duche bag!, we're not even dating!, some causal hook up this turned out to he huh", Billy really hurt you with what he was saying but you had known him long enough to know he didn't mean a lot of what he said in anger, "yeah you're right this will change plans for me, and no we're not dating because some ass hole hasn't asked me out, he just wants to keep hooking up with anyone he feels like", you stood with your hands on your hips waiting for a response but he just stood there mouth open at your reaction, nobody spoke back to him like that, "oh you lost for words Billy? Well I have some for you, we can do this, you know why I believe we can, because I love you Billy Hargrove, I don't expect you to love me back I'm not stupid but I WILL be doing this with or without you, I'm going to leave now because I have given you your choices, you can either decide what we are and what you want to do about the child you have created with me or you can live your life in this shit hole with your father, hating every minute of your time here, you know as much as I do that you are only comfortable when you are with me, il be at home. Hopefuly il see you soon Billy....."

With that you left the Hargrove house.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

[starcrossedjedis]

✭ Farrah Wheeler in "Danger Zone" ✭ Stranger Things ✭ Eddie Munson x OFC  ✭

I don't need some sad, pathetic loser to parade me around school in his varsity jacket, because I’ve got my own."

When Karen Wheeler named her firstborn after Farrah Fawcett, she probably hoped that life had great things in store for her. Sadly nothing about Farrah Wheeler’s life is doing justice to her glamorous name sake.

Where her twin sister Nancy is everything their family could possibly dream of in a daughter, Farrah is a frumpy 5'3 package filled with teenage angst. Yes, she plays soccer on the school team - probably the only remotely cool thing about her - but the truth is that she doesn't even like sport. Nancy has a near perfect GPA - Farrah struggles with math. Nancy dates school star Steve Harrington - Farrah lets Billy Hargrove fondle her in the backseat of his car after parties; not because she particularly likes him, but because he says he doesn’t mind that she’s “fat”.

But when her little brother’s best friend Will Byers disappears and strange things start to happen in Hawkins, twin rivalries and boy troubles suddenly don’t seem all that important anymore…

tagged: @kcnobls, @sgtbuckyybarnes, @captainrcgers, @curious-kittens-ocs, @eddiemunscns, @heirsoflilith, @stachedocs, @jvstjewels, @drbobbimorse, @villain-connoisseur, @honeyandsunflowers, @booty-boggins, @noratilney, @margoshansons, @akabluekat, @anna-phora, @harleyquinnzelz, @asirensrage, @arrthurpendragon, @susiesamurai, @darknightfrombeyond, @fragilestorm, @bravelittleflower, @mystic-scripture, @fyeahstrangerthingsocs

I want to specifically thank anon for pissing me off so much that I went and learned how to replicate the ST logo and scheduled a ST binge watch for this weekend. I did warn you, bestie ♡

[pinkkinoko]

Saw some of these headcannons where Billy dies and Eddie misses him/is sad/etc., because canonically I know Billy dies first, so it’s always “what if they were friends and then Billy dies and Eddie has to deal with that loss”, but what if Eddie died first? This is just a small exercise in angst and pain, because I want Billy to be happy but I’m also a sadistic little fuck who loves to hurt my kittens. The timeline is muddled because I suck at writing fic and this is really just me spitballing. I don’t know how or when exactly Eddie dies, it’s probably sometime in S3, but what matters is just the idea for now. If you have the patience to read this mess I’ll thank you in advance.

Billy is living with Max and Susan in the trailer park after Neil went and left him to the blessed manure fields of Hawkins, Indiana; maybe it was him being used to abandonment that made the whole situation unimpressive. He wasn’t surprised the asshole had skipped town, but maybe he was a little impressed the bastard could survive without his personal punching bag; wouldn’t it be funny if Neil just keeled over from the fucking inability to pin his mistakes on someone else for once? Billy sneered at that, the man didn’t have an ounce of guilt left in him, probably born without it, wished he’d blessed Billy with the same ability. He could use some hubris right now, could really do with a hit of Neil’s holier-than-thou personality traits. God himself could look Neil in his bloodshot eyes and tell him to repent and the man would spit a bitter laugh and say he’d done nothing to deserve such a sentence. Billy, on the other hand, Billy was staring at the dog barking and straining on the leash in front of him and feeling like his throat was constricting.

If he was pardoned by angels he’d still wish to stare down the barrel of a gun, feel his finger bear down on the trigger. Billy hadn’t been—wasn’t—a good person. If this was a punishment, then he should be thankful it wasn’t Maxine, thank whichever fucking universal force spared him the loss of someone he still hadn’t managed to properly apologize to. No, he lost someone who fucking gave some semblance of a shit about him, and wasn’t that just the biggest kick in the balls? His fucking drug dealer, the one guy who bothered to look at the angry bruise on his bicep in the showers and give him the most dry, disbelieving look as he heard Billy make up some bullshit excuse to Tommy about muscling his way through a crowd. Nobody really gave any thought to what the fuck he dealt with at home, and that’s how he wanted it, didn’t need those pitying looks aimed at him when they saw the way Neil held his chin in one hand and laid in on him with an open palm; see the way Billy let him. But Eddie Munson was different. Maybe because he was a fucking freak, some crazy fucker on the fringes of the crowd, he knew how to make Billy feel like an open wound without asking him anything. Eddie saw the shit that haunted Billy whenever he came over, a nervous shift in his eyes and an edge to his voice as he bought weed off him. Eddie knew his audience, could see the monsters that creeped in the shadows they cast over the steps of his trailer as they looked for their next hit…

Fuck, he could really use some good weed right about now, he still had some leftover in the back pocket of one of his jeans, but his hands were shaking too much to roll a damn blunt. Munson would have barked out a laugh at the tremors in Billy’s fingers and teased him for it:

“Big, bad, Billy Hargrove is too shaken up to roll a blunt? Hargrove, you’re lucky your drug dealer’s such an angel, I’ll do you the favor though, just promise not to tell my other customers, wouldn’t want anyone to get jealous and start slashing your tires”

Eddie would’ve known how to calm him down, he knew Billy without needing to ask, he would’ve crouched down and nuzzled the dog in front of him, made faces and called out pet names as if he were talking to Billy. He would have looked back over his shoulder, eyes big and shining in the green half-light of the trailer park and cracked the biggest smile, heartfelt as he assured billy that “it’ll be alright man, and if it’s not, we can still get high enough to forget about it.” He would’ve pulled out a blunt and waggled his eyebrows in such an unnervingly stupid way that Billy wouldn’t have been able to resist cracking an honest smile.

But there was nobody to tell him that it would be ok, there was nobody to worry over the wet feeling that swelled and overflowed from the corners of his eyes. Billy could take being abandoned, because he was used to it. He could take being hated because it was just shitty kids with their inferiority complexes wanting a piece of his fucking pie—obsessing over him like whores—but he couldn’t take things being taken from him. Billy Hargrove didn’t let people take things from him. But Eddie Munson wasn’t his, and he wished he was.

He wished Eddie was his to take back.

[passivenovember]

First chapter in Brush Fire, my shovel-talk fic wherein random adults and people in Billy’s life give Steve the shovel talk as the two fall, painfully, in love.

--

One: Carol

--

Thing is, Billy’s just Nancy Wheeler painted in contrasting shades of bullshit.

And Steve can’t pinpoint the day Hargrove turned into Billy, into a kaleidoscope that bleeds beyond asshole and dickwipe and evil step-brother, but really it’s all a side effect. A symptom of what’s coming, like a cough he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. 

‘Cause at the end of the day Billy’s smart and Steve. 

He’s got a thing for Brainiacs. 

The kind of smarts that could win bar trivia. Pay for a vacation to Europe with the money from an episode of Pyramid. Even better if the guy’s got claws. Pretty eyes that narrow alongside cheeks that blush pink and red, like gumdrops. 

“Help me write my essay,” Steve tells him, waiting outside Billy’s Advanced College Placement class with his collar popped. 

Billy’s smiling before Steve speaks to him. He’s chatting, limbs soft and smile wide, dorky, and then he hears that voice. Goes shocked still. Looks like he’s gonna piss his pants.

“I’ll, uh, see ya later, Bills,” Says that girl. Barb Holland. She pokes at the bridge of her glasses and disappears around the corner, shooting these worried little glances at Billy like he can’t take care of himself. Like he isn’t Hawkins High’s resident bad boy, player, macho-nacho–-

“What do you want, Harrington?” 

Billy’s teeth were pretty, Steve notes, when he was smiling. When he was happy. Now he's got this searing little twist to his lip, saddled with this sudden crash to reality. Steve shoves off the locker to make room for a pee-wee dork that says excuse me, calculating the way Billy’s baby blues have gone dry.

He’s exhausted and tired of it. Sick down to his fifteen-pack abs. 

“I want you to write my essay,” Steve repeats, thinking if he’s more direct Billy will go for it. 

Hargrove puffs out his chest. Squares his jaw. “Fuck no.” He says. Needing the fight.

“Wasn’t asking,” Steve says.

“I’m not writing your essay for you, dickweed.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“'cause no one’s gonna believe you can spell multi-syllable words,” Billy spits, “And I’m not dumbing myself down to whatever kindergarten level class you’re taking–-”

“God, you’re a menace. You’re a forest fire.”

Billy’s cheeks flare at that. Bright red, freckles punching through like holes in notebook paper and Steve knows it.

He’s got him. Hook and line, just like Nancy, but then Billy’s walking off down the hallway. Leaning in a little hard with his boots, stomping holes into the cement. 

Steve follows after him. Says, “I’ll pay you.”

And Billy says, “I don’t want your money.”

That makes Steve laugh. Loud and sudden. “Everyone wants my money.”

“Everyone wants you, right? King Steve. Whole place’d probably shut down if you graduated, right? Need the golden boy around. The gold eggs he lays in the shit-covered green just outside B-Hall,” Hargrove leads them round the corner, stopping to dial and yank his locker open. “God, you’re a fucker–”

“And you’ve got the highest marks in AP English,” Steve says. He leans against the metal closest to Billy, foot propped to pass the time. 

He'll wait.

He’s already won. He’s got what he came here for, but Billy needs time to work it out for himself. All those brains behind pretty blonde princess curls and Billy devotes all his energy to the glare Steve's pinned with. Billy hisses and spits like a drowned kitten, thinking he’s tough. 

“Not wasting my time on you, Harrington,” Billy says. Like it’s supposed to hurt. “You’re a lost cause. Might as well get Wheeler to suck your dick and write that shit for you-–”

“Watch your mouth," Steve says gently.

 Gotta be patient. Give the boy room to think it over, run it back, mold his pretty pinks into an apology. 

"Nancy and I broke up," Steve says, like it matters. 

Like the way his voice still hitches a little, at the end, shaky and vulnerable, will make a difference.

It does and it doesn't. "What would you even write about," Billy demands, ignoring him. "Being rich? How it feels to be born with a silver fucking spoon in your mouth?"

Steve tenses all over, poised to take the heat of Billy's onslaught if it'll get him what he wants.

Billy lens in presses harder. "Oh, what about the way you're a washed-up beauty queen? You gonna cry about the hours and hours you put into impressing the cows around here only to have them run right over your perfect hair to get to the next freak on the list?"

Steve won't bite. "You think my hair's perfect?" 

And maybe that's a step too far. 

Billy grips the metal locker so tight the thing almost groans, baby blues laced with a challenge. That little lip twist has turned into a snarl and Steve.

Almost backs away. 

Almost backs down.

But the flush is packed on like fresh snow, glittering and saturated with pinks and magentas. Steve really does need help with his essay, so he leans closer. Says, "What can I do to get your help on this?" 

And waits for the walls to crumble around them.

--

“You’re not fooling anyone, Harrington,” Carol says. "You think you've got this whole school wrapped around your fingers but I see what you're doing."

And Steve knows it's Carol without having to look up from the pin-lanes scribbled in red across his essay. Knows it without swallowing the tucked-away mashed potatoes at the corner of his mouth. Knows her voice like he knew the chimes that signaled the end of nap time, all those years ago. The stick of a bandaid peeled from her skin and patted, harshly, onto his before another go on the tire swing. 

He doesn’t look up at her to point out that, “If I were smart enough to fool anyone I wouldn’t need help editing this fuckin’ thing.”

But Carol doesn’t stop. Keeps rolling on. Says, in that special shade of periwinkle irritation that she used to save for Tommy, “You could’ve asked someone else.”

Steve glances at her. Notices her hair’s different. “What do you mean?”

“Billy,” Carol spits. Word travels fast. She looks over her shoulder. Scans the lunch room as if afraid that he’ll spring up from the linoleum. Knock the tray out of her fist, or something. She turns back, eyes narrowed. “You could’ve asked anyone else–-”

“He’s got the best marks in English.”

“So?”

“Like I’m gonna hinge my future on someone with anything less than a perfect grade,” Steve chuckles, trying to change its tune somewhere in the middle so Carol doesn’t take this as a notice of war. “Look, the guy’s my ticket outta this shithole.”

“Harrington, you’re stuck. Like the rest of us.” Carol says.

And the thing is? Carol was the first girl who proved chicks could be cool and dangerous and three-dimensional. They were flirts at one point and friends, way before that, giggles and weekend sleepovers stretching all the way back to a blue, cloud-covered room Steve can hardly remember, so. 

He knows Carol. 

Maybe not as well as he used to, but. He knows the girl. Feels like she’s got his neck in her fist, from how tight she’s gripping the lunch tray. Senses that if he makes one step out of line, she’ll dig her fangs into him. 

“What’s your deal, Perkins?”

Carol’s eyes could melt through bone. 

Steve takes the last bite of his mashed potatoes before shoving his tray to the other side of the table. “You got a crush on him or something?"

"What?" Carol says, incredulous.

"Look, I know you're sweet on him--"

"Harrington, you're such a skeez if you thought, for even a minute that I'd ever do that to Tommy--"

"Alright, you're friends will Billy, then," Steve says, exhausted from the theatrics. "You're like his scary big sister, protecting him from the wolf in GAP clothing."

"You're such a dumbass," Carol groans, like Steve's whole thing is getting old and she wishes he'd call it a day. "Why don't you beg Wheeler to tutor you?"

"This conversation is melting my brain."

"Seriously, it's not like she'd say no," Carol says, "She's still got a soft spot for you even if Byers is stuffing her full on a daily basis--"

"--Billy's got a better grade than Nance--"

"--I mean, seriously. Couldn't you pick on someone in your own academic caste?"

"Jesus, Carol, why do you care so much?" Steve drops the act, the good-natured small talk for old time's sake, and lets his words land like fists on the rickety table top. 

All at once, Carol looks older. Wiser and mean and so, so worried. 

"You know what your problem is, Harrington?"

"Enlighten me," Steve says, bored.

"You've never been told no a day in your life."

Billy walks through the lunchroom doors, then, a copy of Moby Dick under one arm and a spiral notebook snatched under the base of his lunch tray. His arms, stiff with forced swagger as he scans the crowd for Steve, jerk when they spot one another.

His cheeks are pink. 

From a million miles away, swimming through a river of pissed-off Perkins, Steve can see it. 

"That boy isn't any different from the rest of us," Carol says tightly. She grips her own lunch tray, and says, "He's sensitive."

Steve opens his mouth to shit all over the floor, and.

"He is," Carol tells him. "Think whatever you want to but I know him. Billy's rough around the edges but he's smart. Too smart for his own good--"

"Smart enough to deal with me?"

Carol's mouth snaps shut, frowning as Steve moves his lunch tray and Billy floats into view. 

"Harrington," He says sharply. Then, to Carol, "Perch Perkins, looking frosty today."

"Fuck off, Malibu Barbie," Carol says, but there's a softness there that takes Steve back to kindergarten. 

He swallows against a pang of jealousy, tracking the way her eyes go warm for this asshole.

Billy tacks a wet kiss to her forehead and then plops down onto the bench across from Steve, flipping to a blank page in his notebook, and Carol sulks away, looking every bit like she'd burn down the world to protect him.

--

Steve wishes he had been smart enough to recognize that conversation for what it was.

The first in a long line of people that, in the pit of themselves, for better or worse, whether they knew it or not: loved Billy Hargrove.