#maybe billy would have prefered for things to move more slowly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slasherhaven · 4 years ago

Note

what about,,,, the slashers reactions to getting properly hugged,,,, like no words, just pure affection and support,, like im here for u its okay to be vulnerable w/ me,,, if you didn't do it already obviously!!

The Slashers’ reacting to being properly hugged:

Thomas Hewitt

This man needs a hug! But he won’t feel comfortable initiating physical affection until you’re in a relationship and he knows for sure that you’re comfortable with it. Then, he’s vert affectionate.

This means that he needs affection but isn’t going to ask for it.

But you knew this because you knew him. So, you sighed before wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest.

You just wanted to offer him some love and support, to let him know that you are there for him if he needs you.

Thomas was surprised by he absolutely melts and he certainly isn’t going to push you away.

He’ll wrap his arms around you, holding you securely but not too tightly against him.

He won’t pull away until you do.

If it happens when he’s more comfortable and confident in your relationship, he will lift you up and move to somewhere he can sit down, he’s probably been working all day and is tired. So, he can just hold you like his own teddy bear. Not that you mind at all.

He could just cry the longer you embrace him. He didn’t even realise how much he needed this until now. But now he’s going to need at least a hug a day, please just make this man feel loved and cared for!

Michael Myers

Michael, of course, hadn’t done anything to prompt your sudden act of affection. But you knew that he was a little more human that people tended to assume, and that meant that he needed affection too, he would just never ask for it.

So, you wrapped your arms around his waist and held yourself close to him. Holding yourself against his chest, you couldn’t get closer if you tried.

Your eyes were scrunched shut, unsure of how he would react to the embrace.

He did give you a small push away but you just tightened your hold. You just needed him to know how you felt, that you were there for him, and you hoped he understood what the gesture meant.

Michael isn’t likely to wrap his arms back around you but his mind is a mess (a rare thing for him) as he allowed you to hug him, his arms still by his sides.

He does understand your message...he’s just unsure of what to do with it.

Jason Voorhees

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Jason needs a real good hug. He needs somebody to accept him, to love him, to be kind to him.

And what better way to tell him all of these things than a proper hug?

It’s when he comes back to the cabin, and you know what he’s been doing and you know that he doesn’t feel great about it, more because he feels like he’s dragged you into this.

You let him clean up and as soon as he enters the room you’re in again, you walked up to him and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a silent hug.

You didn’t need words, you didn’t need to say anything. You hoped he would understand what you’re telling him. He did.

Your embrace caught him by surprise but he still carefully wrapped his arms around you, still so worried about hurting you.

The gesture was exactly what he needed in that moment, something that just reminded him of your love and acceptance.

He won’t pull away until you do, the two of you just standing in the middle of the room in an embrace. There is nowhere he would rather be.

Brahms Heelshire

This is exactly what he needs! And he knows that this is what he needs.

Ever since the two of you started knowingly living together, all he’s wanted is for you to show him genuine affection, more than a chaste kiss goodnight.

He wants you to love him and show him that love, he wants you to care for him and hold him.

You had just noticed that he seemed stressed lately, which is actually because he wants your attention but he attempting to be a gentleman about it, not pushing you too far too fast.

But you knew what he wanted, what he needed. So, you have it to him.

You had patted the seat beside you and, of course, he was quick to sit with you.

He just wasn’t expecting you to silently wrap your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

Brahms isn’t going to pass up the opportunity though! He will instantly wrap his arms around you even tighter that yours were, making himself comfortable.

Will bury his face into the crook of your neck or into your hair, unable to get too close to you. And don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon.

He always knew that he wanted/needed your affection, he just was aware of how much a simple hug would mean to him. You were the only person to accept him in so long, maybe you really would love him just like he needed.

Bo Sinclair

This man needs a proper hug (or any sort of affection) way more than he would ever let on, or even think he does.

When you first embrace him, arms wrapped securely around his waist, he faltered for a moment.

He’d probably pat you on the back or something before trying to pull away or push you away, assuming you just wanted a hug.

But you didn’t let go. So, he’s sigh and wrap his arms around you, expecting that to satisfy you.

But you still don’t let go...

The longer you hold on to him, the less he can pretend that he’s annoyed with it, the less he can pretend like he isn’t enjoying this.

For a moment he actually lets his walls down, tightening his hold slightly and resting his chin on top of your head, making you smile to yourself.

He’ll even close his eyes and just let it happen. Unless one of his brothers comes into the room, then he’s pushing you away, clearing his throat and pretending none of that happened. But you know.

Vincent Sinclair

It’s been a long day. Bo was in a bad mood and taking it out on him. You could see the draining effect it had on Vincent and you knew exactly what he needed, some love.

So, once the two of you were alone and you knew that you wouldn’t be disturbed, at least for a little while, you wrapped your arms around Vincent and just met him in a hug.

Vincent returned the embrace despite his surprise, never being one to refuse you, especially when it came to affection.

He had expected a quick hug but you just stayed put, your embrace making him feel warm in the best kind of way.

He isn’t going to argue with it, resting his masked cheek against the top of your head.

He’ll probably lose track of time, staying there like that for as long as you’d let him.

It’s like Bo had beat him down with his shouting and ranting, but you were building him right back up with your love and support.

Lester Sinclair

Lester had just returned home from visiting his brothers in town, and you know that he either had a pretty good time or it would have been pretty rough. They’re the usual two outcomes of his visits.

Apparently, this was a rough one. You could tell from the sigh he let out as he shut the door behind him.

You didn’t hesitate, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around him, quickly pulling him into a loving embrace.

He didn’t hesitate either, instantly wrapping his arms around you in return and burying his face in your hair.

He loves coming home to you but he loves this even more. You holding him like this, making him feel so welcome and loved, he would never get tired of this feeling.

After so long, will probably ask if the two of you could just cuddle on the couch for a while instead. Standing wasn’t very comfortable but he wasn’t ready to let go of you just yet.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is never ever going to turn down one of your hugs.

So when the two of you finally get some peace and quiet and you pull him into a loving embrace, he instantly lets out various happy babbles as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him.

He’ll happily stand there for as long as you let him, just holding you. But he would prefer to sit down with you, so I suggest guiding him over to the bed or a seat and then pulling him into a hug.

He just loves you so much and can’t get enough of your love.

Just something as simple as a hug makes Bubba melt, just the love and attention you are giving him.

Making him feel so close to you, like you’re right there for each other because you are.

Billy Lenz

As soon as you guide him into a hug (guide, don’t pull), he will latch onto you and refuse to let you go.

God, when was the last time he had a hug? And he’s never had one this good!

It does make him a little emotional. You’re not letting go of him but he doesn’t feel trapped, he doesn’t want you to let him go. In your embrace he feels so supported, so accepted, so loved. He can’t get enough!

He didn’t think he needed this so much, he never thought that something as simple as a hug could make him feel so good.

He’ll nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, mumbling so quietly that you can’t understand what he’s saying. But, just know, that for once it’s not anything lewd.

An extended hug isn’t enough though. The two of you are probably going to end up cuddling on the couch or bed for a little while afterwards.

Just hold him...please.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

You have to catch him by surprise and that is very difficult to do. Just when he isn’t expecting it.

Maybe he’s just come back from the hotel, expecting you to be asleep.

But as he’s quietly undressing to join you in bed, you get up without him hearing and pad over to him.

You wrap your arms from him from behind. He’ll let out a small sigh, asking why you’re awake, but you just shrug and tell him you’re glad he’s home.

He’ll turn around and wrap his arms around you but is a little confused when you don’t pull away. At first he thinks you might be upset about something but that isn’t the case...whatever it is, he’s got nothing else to do.

So he’ll hold you for a little while, slowly coming to terms with how nice this actually feels.

But you both need some sleep, so he’ll mumble something about going to bed. And if you don’t comply, he’ll just pick you up and carry you over to the bed anyway.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

He’s just come back from a ‘business trip’, he always comes back in a good mood from this sort of thing but he tired from travelling.

You had greeted him at the door but saw it on him, he was tired.

So you just wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him, hadn’t even thought anything of it at the time.

The embrace was tight, a welcome home but also some reassurance that everything was alright and he was home now.

He wouldn’t turn down a hug, so he wrapped his arms around you, a hand holding the back of your head as if cradling you to his chest.

When you don’t pull away, neither does he.

He loves what he does and if glad you accept him for it. But the travelling can be tiring and he does find himself missing you.

So he lets out a silent sigh before lifting you up into his arms, making you smile as he carries you up to the bedroom. It’s good to be home. He might have to start taking you with him.

Otis Driftwood

Get him when he’s tired. It’s the best chance you have for a hug to just stay a hug, and for him to accept it without fight or question.

When he’s tired and alone in his room, join him. Crawl up beside him, wrap your arms around him and just hug him.

He’ll raise an eyebrow at you, confused and curious, but he’s not going to stop you.

When he’s tired like this, he’s more likely to let those softer, human, emotions show.

He’ll wrap an arm around you and hold you against him.

But the longer you just stay there, the more he relaxes and starts to make himself more comfortable.

You make him relax, and he may never understand why.

Don’t comment on it when he lets out a sigh, wrapping his other arm around you as well as he shifts, nuzzling his face into your hair. Don’t comment on it, just smile and let it happen.

Baby Firefly

You’re pretty sure Baby never stops, almost constantly upbeat and full of energy.

So if you were to hug her, she would just eagerly hug you back, smiling widely before slipping from your grasp to drag you away somewhere.

Get her when she’s angry with another member of the family, when she’s pouting or ranting about them.

Just pull her into a loving embrace. She’ll continue to complain but will still return your hug.

She’ll slowly calm down and relax in your hold, her embrace becoming secure but soft, affectionate.

You have a good effect on her, she just can’t be mad when you’re around and she knows it.

She isn’t quick to break the embrace now, just holding you makes her feel better so that’s what she’s going to do.

Yautja (Predator)

Probably the only one in this list who doesn’t need a hug in some way or another.

But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t enjoy it! He definitely does!

At first he’s a little taken back when you wrap your arms around him, head resting against his torso.

But he certainly isn’t opposed to this.

He’ll return your embrace, even starting to purr, which is always a good sign. He’ll probably start to stroke your hair as well.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of the affection that humans likes to give ad receive, he doesn’t think he could ever go back to how things used to be for him.

What would he do without all your little kisses, your hugs, your gentle touches. He couldn’t be without them now!

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bowiebond · 2 years ago

Text

Hot & Cold - Chapter 1

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40818159/chapters/102279033

Relationship: Mungrove aka Eddie Munson/Billy Hargrove

Summary: Eddie awakes in the Upside Down with a stranger. He doesn't know his face, or his name, but the universe has appointed him a savior he never thought to ask for.

CW: Injured!Eddie, Vampire!Eddie, Pyrokinetic!Billy, Blood Drinking, Minor Gore

Words: 4.8k

The first thing he registered was the heat. Next was the pain. The heat from the pain too. His head felt like lead, and lifting his eyelids felt like a feat all on it’s own.

God, did he pass out? When? In his trailer? No...No, he remembered now. His sweetheart in hand, playing in Chrissy’s memory, avenging her the only way he could. Dustin...Dustin had been above him, haloed, and there had been bats. He had cut the rope. Ran.

But not to escape. He had run to buy time, had crashed and kept going. The fear plaguing the memory made it hazy, dotted in blood and a mirage of pain. But he remembered fighting, losing...Dustin. Dustin.

“I love you, man.” “I love you too.”

Christ, Dustin. Fuck. He had died on the kid. What a way to leave this world, traumatizing his smart-mouthed younger pseudo-brother.

Except, he was pretty sure he was alive. Or maybe the afterlife was cruel, and he would feel this pain for eternity. God, he hoped not. Chrissy didn’t deserve to spend her afterlife in tears and pain. She had been too sweet for that. Maybe Eddie was just in hell. Yeah. He’d prefer to be in hell then for Chrissy to share a torturous limbo with him.

Eddie slowly pried his eyes apart and was assaulted by the bright orange of flames. He squinted and grunted, breathing out harshly as pain tore through his wounds. He wheezed, mouth dry and tacky, and he flinched when a hand touched his head. It smoothed over his hair, and he let out another small wheeze.

“Don’t move.” It was barely a whisper, but Eddie heard it. He stared at the flames, heart thundering with fear as the hand continued to smooth over his hair gently. “You probably won’t survive your injuries. But I thought maybe...You could understand. They left you here too.”

Eddie trembled, swallowing painfully, tasting copper and dirt. He choked on it and the stranger hushed him softly.

“Sleep. I don’t want you to pass in pain. Dying hurts.”

Eddie breathed out the beginning of a ‘help’, but he didn’t make it past the first letter.

“I said, sleep.”

Eddie’s vision spotted, drowning out the visage of flames that cackled in his ears. The sound sent him right off into the abyss, and he sagged against the floor, the strangers hand still resting upon his head.

*****

When Eddie woke again, the fire was out. It was dark, and everything still hurt.

A door creaked, heavy footsteps following, and Eddie breathed in a lungful of oxygen, the sound more rickety than an old house on it’s last leg.

A wet slap sounded out against the wooden floor, the drop of something heavy and metallic joining it moments later.

He managed to rolled onto his back with all the strength left in his withering body, and his eyes found a shadowed figure. Slowly, it reached for him and he wheezed out a protest, incoherent.

The silhouette hushed him softly, fingers grazing his pale cheek. His touch was scorching, and Eddie didn’t have the energy to move away from it.

“You’re persistent. I really thought you’d die by now.” His voice was still soft, melodic, and Eddie’s eyelids felt heavy. “I guess we’ll see, critter.”

Eddie’s vision went black as a hand came across it, burning still.

He was so cold.

*****

The third time he awoke, it was to the feeling of warm water dripping down his neck.

“Wha...”

“You’re a fighter.” The rich baritone slipped into his ear and fell apart in his brain, nothing more than a hum that left him just as disorientated as he was moments before. The lukewarm water grew warmer, and Eddie hissed as it touched healing ripped flesh. He could feel the single, short huff of laughter that jumped through the mans chest, pressed against his back.

“I’m glad.” The figure behind him pressed the rag to his side and Eddie passed out before he could even acknowledge that he would, the pain too sharp, too quick, and too much.

*****

“It’s so quiet. Why is quiet?”

Eddie fluttered open his eyes, the heat of fire back. Like the first time, he was blinded by its flames, squinting past the embers to gaze upon the silhouette standing by the window. His heart stuttered at the bloody axe in the mans hand, hanging loosely from his fingers.

“It’s too quiet...” The fire burned brighter and Eddie shied from it as its heat stung his face. Like the swirl of a cape, the flames vanished and the man turned to him, basked in darkness.

“You’re awake.” He seemed surprised. “For how long though...” He breathed in and sighed, his rising and falling shoulders illuminated by the faint night blue glow of the outside world. He approached, slow steps, and Eddie watched the axe in his hand. A weak whimper escaped his throat and the figure knelt beside his supine form.

“I think you’ll live, critter.” He caressed his cheek with his thumb, moving his hand into his hair. His skin, once grimy with his own blood and sweat, felt clean. “You’re so cold though.”

“Wha...wha you...?” He slurred, words melding together. He didn’t even try to respond and Eddie wanted to cry.

Where was he? How did he survive? Who was this guy? What did he want from him?

He couldn’t tell if he wanted anything at all. But Eddie? He wanted to go home. To be anywhere but this creepy, dark room with this faceless stranger. He wanted his Uncle. His friends. Dustin.

Hell, he’d even settle for Nancy, Robin and Steve right now.

His whimpers only grew, tears blurring his vision, and the man hushed him softly for what felt like the millionth time.

“Don’t cry. No one will hear you.”

Light flickered into existence from nothing, dancing in the palm of his hand, the shape of a girl undeniable to Eddie’s eyes. Slowly, his eyes traveled from the flame to the wielder, and a tear slipped down from the corner of his eye, into his hair.

“No one.” And there was tears of gold in his eyes, molten like the flame as they dripped down grimy cheeks. The ocean had met the sun, and the sea wept sunlight as Eddie watched.

For the life of him, he couldn’t place a name to the face. He thought, maybe, he didn’t have a name. Not anymore.

*****

They didn’t talk much. Eddie didn’t because it hurt too much to. He wasn’t sure why the other avoided conversation. Maybe he wasn’t used to company.

Eddie watched as the dark haired man (Was his hair dark? Or was it the dirt and grime? Eddie couldn’t tell.) ate, teeth tearing into black, almost purple tinted, meat. His own bowl sat in front of him, and despite his hunger, it didn’t look appetizing at all. The smell alone made his stomach churn.

“Eat. You’ll need the energy to get better.” He advised, and Eddie picked at it. He tore off a tiny part and brought it to his lips, placing it into his mouth. The moment it touched his tongue, his mouth was filled with an ashen taste and he spat it out, coughing so hard he feared his wounds would split back open.

The man was beside him in a matter of moments, abandoning his own dinner to help Eddie sit back up, his coughs simmer down to little quiet leaps of his chest.

“You have to eat, dammit.” His hand was trembling as he raking it through Eddie’s hair, the man too weak to protest the touch. He pulled away and came back with the bowl of water, wringing the rag in it out and pressing the damp cloth to his lips. Eddie’s lips were chapped, cracking, and he could taste blood on his tongue, bitter and rotten.

He parted his lips, taking the corner of the rag into his mouth and the water was cool against his tongue. It was relief like no other.

“That’s it.” That shaky hand was back in his hair, fingers threading in the strands at his nape, thumbing behind his ear as Eddie suckled. “Water first. Food next. We can work our way up...”

Eddie didn’t know how long until his voice would come back, but the first thing he wanted to ask him when it did, was how long he had been here alone.

*****

Time was strange here, Eddie realized. There was no day or night, just darkness and the occasional flash of red like thunder. The small shed they were in was fairly tidy, but vines crawled up it’s walls outside. Eddie could see from the windowsill, how they inched closer and closer over time. In a way, it was stabilizing, like a clock. He made his own metric of time in his head based on the vines.

Sometimes the stranger would leave for a while, hours it felt, and return with things. Blankets. Pillows. A dead creature to eat, as gross as it was. Eddie wasn’t sure where he got the water, or how it was clean, but he was grateful nonetheless. Water was one of the only things he could keep down, but he knew he was withering away slowly. He could feel it, even as his skin stitched back together over time, the hunger never stopped. Getting up from his bed was difficult, and he could feel the other watching him most of the time.

He was starting to fear he might never speak again.

“Eat it.” He turned his face from it, everything in him telling him not to sink his teeth into the slightly charred meat. “You’re gonna die if you keep refusing to eat.”

“’an’t...” It’s something, softer than a whisper, but it’s something.

He flinched when the man tossed the meat into the bowl with a clatter, almost kicking it as he stood up in a huff. He paced, the fires glow flickering over his skin. He was washed out, but Eddie could tell he used to have a tan. His skin was littered in scars, though he often kept his aged deep brown jacket on. Eddie could see the traces of them crawling up from beneath his white tank, and if he could vocalize his many questions, he didn’t think the man would even have enough time to answer them all.

He dragged his hands through his hair and locked them behind his head as he locked at Eddie.

“Why won’t you eat?” He could not fathom it, and honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be able to either if he wasn’t the one inhabiting this body, experiencing these weird spikes of hunger with no relief even when he tried to eat.

“Are you...allergic? Fuck, how would you even know?” He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking exhausted. “I don’t have anything else.” He gestured around the minimalistic room. “I can’t feed you anything else.”

He looked like he wanted to cry again, face falling with his own defeat, looking lost as he gazed down at the floor.

“You’re going to die.” He intoned, voice hoarse. “And I have nothing else.”

Eddie stared up at him, a small bud of solicitude blooming in his chest. Slowly, trying not to sway on his own two feet, he walked over to the stranger and offered him solace in the form of a hug. The man sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, a tremor rippling through his limbs like goosebumps.

Hesitantly, he held Eddie back, and the injured man heard his breath shudder free and finish in a soft sob, sliding his hands up his back to curl his fingers around the muscle of his shoulders.

“I don’t want you to die.” He sniveled. “It’s so fucking lonely down here.”

Eddie had come to that conclusion not long ago. If he had the strength, the words, he’d tell this stranger there was a way out. They just had to find it first. Then they could find the others.

He missed them. He missed everyone back home. His Uncle, his party and band, all those misfits that put their necks on the line to save Hawkins. He missed them all.

Eddie wasn’t steady on his feet, not when he was so fatigued, still healing, but the other was strong. Held him firmly and close as he cried. Eddie rested his head on his shoulder, not minding that the man was a tad too short for it to be comfortable.

Eddie was cold. He had been cold since he first woke up. No amount of heat had changed that, but the other ran hot like a furnace and Eddie felt it emit from his skin like a stove top.

With the warmth came the scent of cinnamon and musk, the grit of earth and something a touch sweet. Like rose and grapefruit. It was the kind of scent you would steam your bathroom up with, that soothing touch that was perfect for lounging in the tub.

His skin was feverish against his lips, and his blood boiling.

He didn’t hear exactly what he shouted, but he felt the rough shove, felt his body hit the ground, and felt the sweet spice slide down his throat with his own spit. He could feel it tingling against his lips, and they were quivering as he licked it off his upper lip and savored the flavor on his tongue.

“You psycho-!” He hissed as he clutched his neck, blood sliding over the heel of his palm, slithering down his wrist. Eddie’s stomach growled loudly and the man stared at him, mystified.

“Is this it?” He slowly removed his hand from his neck, breath quickening as he looked at the crimson staining his hand. “Do you...is this what you’ll eat?” He turned his eyes back to him and Eddie licked his lips, wanting to say something, anything, but his mouth was watering and he had to swallow.

Tentatively, he lowered his hand, still doused in red, and left it there. Waiting, offering with uncertain eyes.

Eddie had been told since his birth that he was lesser than most. Trailer park trash, a delinquent, a freak, a flunkee. Eddie had been okay with all of it. Learned to take pride in his life as a disappointment to most of society.

He never felt lower than when he reached out for that scarred wrist, dragging his tongue along the rough callouses of his palm to soak the cherry red fluid into the cracks of his tongue. His hand twitched in Eddie’s grip and he wrapped his lips around one digits, sucking off the blood from it. The sweet taste of his blood mixed with the tang of sweat and Eddie groaned.

He tried to tug his hand back, but Eddie felt a new sense of strength as he held firm, swirling his tongue another digit. He was thorough with each one, cleaning the blood off his hot palm and tracing his tongue up the trail of blood that had trickled down his wrist. It didn’t have the same scorch that it did when it came right from the source, but Eddie would take whatever he could get.

He sighed with satisfaction, his own body starting to feel tepid as he licked his lips, reaching his thumb up to swipe the streak blood he could feel there. He sucked it off his thumb and finally released his wrist.

The man quickly hid it behind himself, wiping his hand on the back of his jeans as he stared down at Eddie in astonishment.

“That’s why you wouldn’t eat?” His voice sounded wrecked. “You just needed...b-blood?” He looked like he wanted to be disgusted, but Eddie couldn’t pinpoint what the actual emotion was on his face.

“You’re not the only one surprised.” Eddie’s voice sounded even worse, but it formed syllables, real words, and it made his shoulders sag. He could have sob with the sheer relief of hearing his own voice again.

“You can talk.” He awed, eyes widening as Eddie nodded.

“I guess so.” He cleared his throat, rubbing it gently. “I do feel better.”

“You do?” He knelt before him, looking him over with wonder as Eddie tried to suck every last reminiscence of his taste from his tongue, greedy to consume. Eddie eyed his neck, sluggishly bleeding from the shallow bite. He watched at a drop slid down his collarbone and stained the white fabric of his tank, wanting to lick it clean.

“I do.” He murmured, distracted. The other noticed his stare and seemed apprehensive, tilting his shoulder away, chin jutted to hide the wound from Eddie’s gaze. He forced his gaze away from the red sticking to his lightly freckled skin, meeting his blue eyes.

They looked apprehensive, cogs turning in that brain of his, and Eddie could only wait for him to draw the conclusion he was working his way towards, to make a decision on his next words, next action.

A pink tongue peaked out past his lips, wetting them before he looked away from Eddie’s dark eyes. His lips parted, closed, and opened once more but nothing except a sigh passed them.

With a creak of a floorboards, he sat down heavily, one knee up and the other falling to point west. He rested back on his hands, palms down behind him as he studied Eddie. He looked like a statue, sharp and ethereal in the warm light, and Eddie felt like bacteria under a microscope. His gazed dipped to watch the bob of his throat, the man cocking his chin in challenge. His legs spread further ever so slightly and Eddie could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

“Well?” He tilted his head with heeding eyes, the softest twitch in his upper lip giving away the sting of his wound at the stretch. “You want to survive, don’t you?”

Eddie salivated at the offering. His soft pants felt like they were echoing in the silent room, but this stranger didn’t take his eyes off him. Observing his every move as Eddie tried to resist. This was insane. He was trapped in this shack, in the Upside Down, with a man who’s name he didn’t even know, a man who seemed to control fire like it was as easy as breathing. A man who smelled and tasted incredible. That wasn’t something he should think about another person. That they were appetizing in a way that wasn’t inherently sexual.

He swallowed back another bout of saliva that had pooled under his tongue, every swallow starting to scratch at the back of his throat. When he clenched his teeth, he could feel the change in length of his canines. They weren’t sharper, because humans were carnivores with teeth built for tearing, chewing, biting, but they filled more space in his mouth than before and it was alarming.

“What’s holding you back?” The other frowned, brows coming to draw inwards. He reached up to his neck, swiping the drying blood from it. He looked down at it, face shadowed with near-contempt. When he brought his gaze back to Eddie’s, something shifting in his eyes, the fire crackling beside him loudly as it spat embers.

Eddie recoiled when he pressed his fingers to the shallow wound and dug them in, fresh blood spilling past his nails. His eyes were unwavering, the glossy shine of tears not tapering his determination as Eddie watched, refusing to breath. He knew if he breathed in, something in him would snap. His self control was slipping through his fingers.

“Maybe you just need a proper invitation.” He brought his two red dyed fingers to his mouth, and Eddie’s closed lips quivered, the muscles in his face twitching from his weakening resolve. “Go on. Think of it as an oath of brotherhood.”

His smile was insincere, words barely a whisper and eyes unreadable.

Eddie couldn’t hold his breath any longer.

He breathed in, lips falling apart as the scent of smoke and spice filled his senses, a sweet aftertaste coating his tongue from the smell alone. His tongue slowly peeked past his lips, catching the blood drop that threatened to fall on his tongue before curling it back into his mouth.

He wondered if this was what true addiction felt like. His skin felt flushed, itching for another taste, and he gave in as his self-control dissolved into dust. He took those two fingers into his mouth and sucked, moaning softly in satisfaction. He choked when they pressed further, almost catching his knuckle on his fangs between he felt the digits spread, fingertips catching his bottom teeth and prying his mouth wider.

“If you bite me again, critter, I’ll tear these from your gums, got it?” It was the first threat the man had spoken to him, but Eddie nodded as best he could, drowning in the heavenly taste. “Good.”

He pulled his fingers from his lips, strings of spit snapping before Eddie followed, tongue sliding up his collarbone to his throat, latching onto the bite.

It burned, and Eddie had never tasted anything better.

His hand slipped into loose curls, cupping the back of his nape as he pulled longer draws from his neck, groaning lowly. The heat buried into the marrow of his bones, panting softly against his throat as the other breathed through his nose, sharp intakes and shuddering exhales. Eddie wondered vaguely if it hurt. When you licked a wound, it tended to sting.

He dragged his tongue along it gently and the man winced, fingers curling into his palm in a fist. He was unsure what provoked him, but he dipped the tip of his tongue into the source and the other gasped, flinching away and grabbing his sleeve tight.

“Enough.” He rasped and if Eddie was greedier he would have shoved the man down and covered his mouth, sucked every last drop from him until he was cold instead and Eddie was burning.

But Eddie was not a killer. Hell, he couldn’t even kill a spider. He had set free every single one he found and cried as a kid when his father squashed them under his boot.

He pulled away and leaned back too far, shifting from his knees to his ass with a hand behind him to catch himself. He licked his lips, cleaning up the mess he could feel was there, staining his lips cherry. They watched each other, air rife with tension as the man stood slowly. He stumbled slightly, boots making a heavy clunking sound before he straightened and blinked a few times. He was probably dizzy, but Eddie had a good feeling he wouldn’t accept his help even if he offered it.

He walked over to the wall and leaned against it, puffed chest sinking with his exhale. Slowly, he slid down to sit on his designated pile of blankets, a makeshift bed, and reached for the duffel bag at the end of it. He pulled it into his lap, keeping Eddie in his view as he riffled through the bag and pulled out a few strips of fabric, lining two pieces together and tying it around his neck like a bandage, his cheek twitching when he pulled it tight.

With that taken care of, he dropped his hands onto the bag in his lap and kicked a brow up at Eddie.

“So. This place brought you back different too?”

“You haven’t always wielded fire magic like some kind of wizard?” Eddie quipped and he chuckled, looking away with bitter mirth.

“No...I was perfectly normal.” He frowned for a moment, uncaring as he continued. “Well, depends on who you ask.”

“I was not.” Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “But I also didn’t suck blood like Count Dracula.”

“I’d say you got the shit end of the stick, but I don’t trust myself not to jinx it.” He shook his head, like he knew better. “Well? You got a name, amigo?”

“Eddie.” It felt good to finally say it. “You?”

“Ah...” He seemed to think about it, dragging his tongue over his teeth. “Billy.”

“Well, Billy, you have my gratitude.” He had been scared shitless by the guy for a while, but overall, Billy had helped him overcome his wounds. He couldn’t feel a hint of pain anymore, the chill that had set into his bones long gone. “Thank you.”

“You’re fucking welcome.” Billy cupped a hand over his neck, brows pinching. “It was a one time affair, trust me.”

“Not for...that.” Eddie wrinkled his nose. He was slightly disgusted in himself now that he was no longer hungry. “I mean, thanks, but I meant for...nursing me.”

“I’ve been down here a long time. Trust me when I say you start dying for some company.”

“I can imagine.” Eddie, with strength renewed, heaved himself onto his feet. He walked to the window and peeked out into the dark forest, flashes of red in the distance. “Where do you get the water from?”

“What?” Billy furrowed his brows, not bothering to join him at the window. He felt off-kilter, and rightfully so.

“The water you bring back. Where do you get it?”

“There’s...There’s a lake not far from here.”

“And you drink that?” Eddie wrinkled his nose.

“I clean it first, dipshit.” He sparked his fingers. “Boil the fuck out of it, let it cool, and you have drinkable water.”

“Well, that makes me feel better.” Eddie admitted, pushing off the windowsill. “This place, it’s like an alternate dimension of-”

“Hawkins, I figured.” Billy cut in, scowling at being taken for an idiot. “What of it?”

“The water, did you get it from Lovers Lake?”

“Well, it’s vaguely heart shaped.” Billy shrugged. “Why?”

“There’s a gate there.” Eddie said and Billy squinted up at him. “Well, last I checked there was.”

“A gate?” He looked confused before something seemed to click, face slowly smoothing with realization and eyes widening. “A gate. The gate.”

He was getting to his feet, too quick and throwing too much weight forward as he stumbled. Eddie caught him on reflex and the man shook him off in seconds, glaring.

“I remember about the gate.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“I didn’t see anything. I just know.” Billy flicked his wrist and the fire went out. “You said it’s at Lovers Lake? The gate.”

“A gate.” Eddie clarified. “Why are you talking like there’s only one?”

“Because there was only one. Obviously something changed after I died.” Billy muttered, grabbing his bag and hauling it over his shoulder. His eyes fluttered a few times and Eddie pursed his lips, reaching for it. Billy flinched away, scowling at him. “Don’t touch my shit.”

“You’re going to pass out if you keep overdoing it. Just let me carry it.” Eddie kept his hand out, expectant, and Billy stared down at it distrustfully. “Come on, man. I owe you.”

His blue eyes flickered up to his and slowly, dropped the straps into his hand.

“Yeah. You do.” Billy grabbed his axe and rolled his shoulders back. “Come on.”

“You wanna go now?”

“I’m not staying another goddamn minute more than I have to. You said there’s a way out. I’m getting out of here, and I’m disappearing on my own fucking terms.” He spat, throwing the door wide open. Eddie pursed his lips, looking around the room as he swung the bag over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m not staying back here on my own, this place gives me the-”

“Heebie jeebies?”

“...I was gonna say the creeps. But yeah, sure. Heebie jeebies.” Eddie tried not to pull a face at the phrase, but he must have been caught because Billy gave a roll of his eyes before he continued on forward.

Eddie looked around the woods, avoiding vines as anxiety built in his chest.

“Shouldn’t I have a weapon or something? I feel like I should have a weapon.”

“I have a weapon.” Billy gestured to his axe.

“That’s all fine and dandy, man, really.” Eddie narrowly avoided tripping over a vine. “But that doesn’t protect me.”

“I’ll protect you.” He said it simply, like it was an obvious fact, and Eddie laughed a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can.”

“I will.” He corrected, voice low with promise, and Eddie’s eyebrows jumped. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Okay.” Eddie looked behind them, head moving a lot more than Billy’s even though the pair were both surveilling the area. “It’s like...really quiet.”

“I noticed.” Billy didn’t seem to like that either.

“That’s like...a bad thing. Right?” Eddie took a hop, skip and a jump to step in line with Billy’s own measured pace, looking past Billy to check their left. “Like, if this was a slasher film, quiet would mean...jumpscare.”

“Quiet could also just mean quiet.” Billy narrowed his eyes at Eddie, indicating for him to shut up.

“I’m just saying.”

“I think I preferred it when you didn’t talk, critter.”

“You’re not sunshine and rainbows either, buddy.” Eddie grumbled, a snap ringing out. Eddie jumped and shoved a hand out in front of Billy on instinct, looking around wildly. Billy gripped his axe tighter in both hands.

Eddie held his breath, Billy’s own breathing silent and slow as they waited.

#mungrove #beddie #eddie munson #billy hargrove #vampire eddie munson #billy hargrove x eddie munson #eddie munson x billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things fic

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gaelic-symphony · 3 years ago

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The Perfect Man

Written for @cmbingo (and tagging @ssa-sapphic!)

Summary: Emily makes a feline friend.

Bingo Square: Bullpen/Free Space (Sergio the cat)

Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol and canon violence

Read on AO3 or below the cut

“Maybe I should get a cat…”

It was just an offhand remark when she said it, a tongue-in-cheek comment on her lack of anything even remotely resembling a love life. She’d never been a pet person. Growing up moving from country to country meant she never got to have any pets as a child, not even a goldfish. But she’d always liked cats, and as a single lesbian pushing forty, she figured she might as well lean into the stereotype. What finally sealed the deal for her was coming home from that next case in Alaska. Hotch and JJ had children to go home to, and Penelope had Kevin waiting for her. But Emily’s apartment was still and empty; nobody would be there to greet her when she came home. It was the first time she’d really noticed how truly lonely she was, and all she could think about was how nice it would be to have a companion.

She poured herself a glass of red wine and started browsing pet adoption websites. There were so many cats—where was she supposed to begin? She perused pages and pages of tabbies, calicos, and tuxedos, tiny kittens with giant eyes and elderly cats with grizzled faces. Her eyes finally settled on a skinny black cat with amber eyes. Sergio. It was a weird name for a cat, she thought, but there was just something about this little guy. This was her cat. Some shelter worker had described him as “curious, adventurous, a real sweetheart if not the most affectionate kitty, and prefers a home with no men.” Me too, Emily thought to herself with a little chuckle. She and Sergio would get along just fine.

She picked him up from the shelter the following weekend, and he immediately scurried under the couch. Emily was still pretty new to cats, but she’d read that they usually hid until they got used to their new homes. For the first week she had him, she barely saw him. He would wander out of hiding occasionally to eat or use the litter box, and he seemed to come out to explore when Emily wasn’t home. She’d come back from work to find things knocked over, cat toys scattered around, black cat hairs all over her bed and her laundry. It was like having a roommate who was never home—a roommate who didn’t pay rent or clean up after himself.

Slowly but surely, though, Sergio began to adjust to his new home and his new mom. He would venture out to explore the apartment while Emily was reading on the couch. He would stalk around her feet at mealtimes, waiting to be fed. He liked to play with his string toy and nap on Emily’s pillow. Emily was beginning to understand why people loved having pets so much; having Sergio to come home to made her evenings much more enjoyable and restorative, and gave her a reason to go home at a reasonable hour instead of burning the midnight oil at the office. And after the Prince of Darkness case, she was happier than ever to have someone to come home to. It was a brutal case. Billy Flynn killed a cop and kidnapped his eight-year-old daughter. He raped and tortured the cop’s sister and left her with fatal injuries. He held Morgan hostage and made him watch the whole thing unfold. When they finally wrapped up the case, Emily wasn’t feeling particularly social, but the last thing she wanted was to be alone.

When she opened her apartment door and stepped inside, she dropped her go bag on the floor with a thud that woke Sergio up from his nap on the windowsill. Emily expected him to bolt, maybe hide under her bed to finish his nap, but he didn’t. He yawned and blinked at Emily, stood up with a slow stretch, and hopped down from the windowsill. He sauntered over to his mom and brushed against her leg.

“Oh, hey, buddy,” Emily said softly, crouching down slowly so as not to scare him away, “I missed you.” Sergio rubbed his cheek against Emily’s hand. She picked him up cautiously and scratched his head, and he didn’t squirm or struggle to break free. He leaned against Emily’s chest as she carried him to the couch and curled up with him in her lap. He started purring and kneading her thighs as she petted him. When she stopped, he meowed at her and reached his paw out to her arm, pleading to be cuddled again.

Maybe Sergio was just hungry for attention, but Emily could feel something more going on. She didn’t want to give him too much credit—he was just a cat, after all—but it seemed like he was trying to take care of her that night. He knew she needed a little extra love, and he wanted to cheer her up. His insistence on more snuggles wasn’t just because he wanted them; it was also because he could tell that Emily needed them. He wanted to make his mom smile the best way he knew how. The whole night, he never left her side. He followed her into the kitchen as she poured herself a glass of wine. He sat next to her on the couch when she pulled out her laptop, and when that wasn’t enough, he climbed onto the keyboard and made himself comfortable. When she went to bed that night, he was right beside her. He burrowed under the covers and curled up next to her chest. Emily usually had a hard time falling asleep after cases, but with Sergio purring right beside her, she drifted off peacefully and slept through the night.

When Emily first considered getting a cat, she thought it would be nice to have a companion. She didn’t expect to fall in love with eight pounds of mischief and black fur, but here she was. This little cat had wiggled his way into her heart just like he wiggled his way under the covers. He was making his home there just like he’d kneaded his little nest in Emily’s bed. And Emily had never been happier to let someone in.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #cmbingo22 #emily prentiss #lesbian emily #sergio the cat #cats #emily is a cat lesbian #fluff #pets #cute

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f1nalboys · 3 years ago

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Backstage - Bday fic for Danny

HAPPY (very late im sorry) BDAY TO @knifewh0re !! I really hope you like this and i hope your birthday went well AND i hope today is even better!!!

Poly!Ghostface x Danny

WORD COUNT: 1978

WARNINGS: they/them pronouns afab reader (which is danny), oral (amab and afab recieving), vaginal fingering, implication of more sex, semi-public sex, closet sex, time crunch, the boys aren’t mean in this one besides like two off-hand comments from billy

Billy and Stu stood backstage before the show searching for you. Stu was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. “Stu, man, relax. You’re getting on my nerves.” Stu pouts and opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He elbows Billy in the side harshly, pointing down the crowded hallway. Billy cranes his neck and breaks out into a grin.

It was you. You were surrounded by your band, decked out in your stage outfit and laughing and god you looked beautiful. Billy didn’t wait for Stu and took off down the hallway, his heart beating. You went to college with them, actually had a class with Billy, but you didn’t know them. They knew you, obviously.

Your band was getting popular in the punk scene and Stu had seen you play live a few months ago and immediately fell in love with your voice. He forced Billy to listen and, even though punk wasn’t his most loved genre, he had to admit that you were fucking amazing. And now they were here. Stu had bought backstage passes for the show and told Billy that they had to talk to you.

“Danny!” You turn around at the sound of your name with your eyebrows furrowed. Stu had caught up to Billy and had a big smile on his face, waving you over. Even though you didn’t know the two of them you went over, their smiles and the blush creeping up the neck of the brown haired boy made you curious.

“Uhm, hey. You two know me?”

“Yeah! We actually go to school with you, Billy here’s in your Intro to Film History class with you,” Stu says, nudging Billy towards you with his elbow. Billy forces a smile, his heart beating fast when you smile back. “And we happen to be huge fans of yours.”

You grin, turning around and waving off your band member, asking them to give you a few minutes. “Sorry about that. We have like half an hour before the show starts. So, you go to school with me? How come I’ve never seen you two around before? Think I would’ve noticed two cute guys.”

Stu lets out a high pitched nervous laugh, punching Billy on the shoulder hard. He was fucking star struck at this point. “Cute? You think we’re cute?” He says with a grin that only grows when you nod. They were cute! Stu was wearing a button up shirt and a denim jacket - which Billy had bought him specially for this - and Billy wore a tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans.

“I’m Billy, that’s Stu. And you’re Danny, right?”

“Sure am. So, any reason you two came out here to see us play?” Billy’s eyebrow raises. He could have sworn you were flirting with them. Stu seems to think the same thing because he makes a small choked noise which makes you laugh, hard.

Stu shrugs, deciding now is the perfect time to start acting more suave. “We wanted to wish you luck before the show. With words or actions, whichever you’d prefer.” If Billy weren’t hoping you’d say yes he would have turned around and punched Stu as hard as he possibly could for being so god damn forward.

“I mean, I could definitely go for some physical encouragement. You two think you could make it quick?”

“Wait, really?” Stu was actually pretty shocked you were agreeing. He was happy, like, REALLY happy, but he was still shocked. You nod and Billy takes a hold of your hand and drags you down the hallway. He wanted to find somewhere that the three of you wouldn’t be interrupted.

You stop him halfway down the hallway and pull him into a dark room, flipping the light on when Stu comes in behind you both. It was a supply closet, a fairly large one, and Stu locks the door behind him as Billy pulls you in for a kiss.

“Wait, wait, no,” You say, pushing away from him. He gives you a confused look, worried he had gone too fast too soon. “Can’t kiss; can’t fuck my stage makeup up.” He snorts, deciding to kiss your neck instead. Stu’s behind you, the two men trapping you in between their bodies.

Stu replaces Billy’s lips on your neck, nipping at your pulse and grinning against your skin when you moan. Billy is on his knees, working on getting your pants off. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he yanks your jeans down and you hiss, goosebumps raising down your legs.

Your head rolls back against Stu’s shoulder as his hands slip up your shirt and past your bra, his fingers finding your nipples with ease. Billy groans as his finger dips past your underwear, gliding down your folds. “Fuck, Stu, man, they’re soaked.”

“Are they now? You into us or something, baby?” He coos into your ear, pinching at your nipple hard and you whimper loudly. Stu laughs, his breath hot against your skin, as Billy’s fingers begin to rub circles on your clit. You’re bucking into his fingers and you let out a particularly loud moan when he moves his hand off of you.

Your eyes pop open and Billy is right in your face, shoving his fingers, wet with your arousal, in your mouth. Stu grabs the bottom of your shirt and yanks it up, slipping it off of your body with ease. “Think you could use your mouth for something else?” Stu asks with a wicked grin. Rolling your eyes, you don’t take long to debate, sinking down onto your knees.

“Can’t do it for long, boys. Got twenty minutes before I need to be out there, so you better get to it.” Stu’s pants and underwear are long gone now and he’s fisting his cock right in front of you with an eager look in his eyes. You smile, replacing his hand with your own, and licking a long stripe up the underside of his dick.

His head rolls back and he lets out a low moan as your tongue swirls over his tip. “Fuuuck, Danny…” He goes to put his hand on the back of your head, wanting to force you to take him to the hilt, but he stops himself by grabbing ahold of Billy’s shoulder. “Their mouth, man. Shit, could make me cum already.”

Billy’s hand was on his own cock and he was focused on your face. You never took Stu in your mouth fully, never moving past wrapping your lips around the tip of him, and somehow he could tell it was the best blowjob Stu’s probably ever gotten. Save for him, of course. “Wanna feel that mouth of yours,” He says and you pop off of Stu, a glob of spit connecting you to him. “Can we fuck you?”

You hesitate before your hand wraps around his cock, pumping him slowly. “God, I wish. Like, you have no fucking idea how badly I want you two, but we have less than 15 minutes and if we do it I want it to last longer than that. How bout I help you two out and you help me?” Without waiting for an answer you repeat what you had just done to Stu.

“Holy shit,” He groans. He can’t take his eyes off of you or your hands or your lips. Everything about you was intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times, hollowing your lips when you take him into your mouth. “Christ, Danny, your mouth feels so fucking good. Such a good whore for us.”

You moan around him and he gasps, barely stopping himself from slamming his hips further down your throat. Stu was jerking off next to him, eyes trained on you, and he threw his head back, calling your name. “Danny, fuck, gonna cum. Where, shit! Where can I?”

Pulling off of Billy you flash the two of them a wide smile and respond simply. “On each other.”

“Huh?” Stu’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly, his hand pausing in it’s movements. You lick your lips and they watch with wide eyes as your hand reaches down and slips past your underwear. Your eyes flutter closed, soft moans leaving your lips. Music to their ears.

“I, mmh. I said cum on each other, god, and then you can taste me.” That’s all the encouragement they needed. They turned towards each other but kept their eyes on you, the sounds of your pleasure mixing with their own. Billy was chasing his high, the thought of being able to delve into your cunt sending shockwaves through his body.

Stu is the first one to cum, both your name and Billy’s falling from his lips as he thrusts into his hand. His cum coats Billy’s thighs and hands, adding to the slick of his own cock. Billy cums soon after and Stu takes a second to get on his knees and takes his dick into his mouth, taking him to the base. What can he say, he loved Billy’s dick.

“Fuck, that was hot,” You whimper, your eyes moving in time with the bob of Stu’s head. “Hurry up and eat me out, you got ten minutes. If you do good, maybe I’ll consider making this a regular thing.” Billy’s on his knees in a second, throwing your hand off of yourself and pushing you back onto your ass. You yelp as the concrete digs into your skin but the pain is quickly washed away, taken over by the pleasure of his tongue dipping through your folds.

He’s moaning at the taste of you, his hands grabbing your thighs and spreading you wider, opening you up for him. His tongue focuses on your clit, switching between circling it to flicking it with the tip of his tongue, sucking on it every few seconds. Your hand tangles in his hair and you’re grinding down on his face when Stu’s fingers enter you.

He starts up a fast pace with two fingers, filling you so suddenly all you can do is cry out his name and roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Fuck! Please, shit, you both feel so good. Please, I’m close, please let me, please make me,” Your pleas’ urge them onwards, Stu’s fingers and Billy’s tongue speeding up.

You cum hard, harder than you have in the past from just oral, and your body is convulsing with pleasure as they continue. They don’t stop until you practically collapse against the floor and even then Stu takes his chance to lick up your cunt, tasting you. “Mmm, you taste fucking delicious, babe.”

“You alright, Danny? We didn’t kill you, did we?” Billy asks and even with your eyes closed you know he’s smiling. You nod, take a deep breath, and stand up, your knees weak. Stu wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck while Billy helps you pull your pants back up, buttoning them up before kissing you on the lips. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

Stu opens the door and peeks out, looking both ways before ushering the two of you outside. Billy runs a hand down your cheek, down your neck, and he tsks at the dark marks that were forming. “Stu! Asshole, you left hickies like a 15 year old.”

“They look hot with them!” He replies, giving you another sloppy kiss on the neck, and you laugh. You shove him off of you, brushing your clothes off and looking at them with a grin.

“So… you guys staying after the show? I’d love to show you the green room.”

Billy grins, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, eyes dragging down your body. “For you? Hell yeah, we are. Can’t wait to see how hot you look with that makeup of yours running.”

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neonponders · 3 years ago

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This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful)

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day.

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing -

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already -

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed -

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

#are we in the present day or the 80s? who knows #harringrove #younger billy with s3+ steve #ficlet #neonponders #memes-saved-me #pondermoniums #a sprinkling of #virgin!billy #this got long lol #i wanted to write more but i like this ending #for now?#i have things I need to do lol #i'm sorry for the abrupt ending

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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At Last (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Summary: you, Frankie, and your fur baby go camping! Little does Frankie know what you have planned.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, alcohol, food, language, otherwise, this is toothaching fluff!

A/N: SAMMY MY BELOVED @sanchosammy GAVE ME THIS IDEA! I hope it’s as cute as I think it is :) also, Charlie (Frankie’s pup) isn’t involved in this fic but she is still part of the fam :)

Pine trees surround you on either side, tall and majestic. You can see the blue-gray sky patching through the canopy; the clouds are leaving, but some linger a little longer to clog up the sky. The air is warm and slightly humid, but a wonderful breeze rustles through the trees and rushes across your bare arms. Your trail shoes squelch underfoot in the damp ground. You sigh, totally content with this moment.

Frankie’s flannel is tied around his waist, leaving him in his khaki cargo pants and t-shirt. A couple of curls peek out from under his ball cap, turning into little ringlets at the nape of his neck. He walks in front of you on the trail, his boots pressing prints into the soft ground. His back profile is beautiful, even with the large camping pack, and you can’t help but grin.

Foxtrot embodies her name- Frankie is holding her leash, and the auburn and white dog trots up ahead of him, sniffing along the mulched and muddied path. The air smells of humidity that’s just passed over and that wonderful accompanying petrichor. Fox’s white paws are surely getting dirtied, but that’s only to be expected. You don’t care, too excited to watch your boyfriend and dog walk ahead of you.

Frowning at the bend of Frankie’s back, you catch up and take his free hand. “Let me carry something, baby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers through yours. “You have important cargo,” he teases and pats your back lightly.

Strapped to your back, in a backpack-style blue case, is your ukulele. One hand carries the cooler, slung over your shoulder, filled with food and drinks for tonight. Frankie carries the heavy-duty stuff- the tent, stakes, more essential supplies. “At least let me take Fox.”

Her red ears perk up at her name and she stops, turning and growing excited, as if she forgot you were there. “Yeah, hi Foxy!” You coo as she runs towards you, jumping with her front paws in the air in excitement. “Yeah, you love it out here, don’t you?” You ask her in a baby voice, scratching behind her ears as she circles around your legs and prevents you from moving. Frankie drops her leash in order to prevent your legs from being tourniqueted by it, and it drags behind her in the mud.

When you pick up the leash, it’s sludgy and damp, but you don’t mind too much. You continue the hike forward and Frankie and Fox follow at your sides, both beaming ear to ear and enjoying the serenity of the woods.

Frankie picked the campsite, so he’s technically leading the way, but the trail is fairly straightforward, meaning you don’t need to be led. Frankie points out wildlife here and there: chipmunks, rabbits, cardinals and chickadees flitting through the pine-needled canopy. He’s in his element, and you’re in yours: with him.

The mud gives way to drier ground ahead, and luckily enough Frankie pulls off to the side. It’s the perfect spot, with a beautiful little field of wildflowers. “Welcome to your five-star hotel for the night, babe,” he assures you and kisses you softly, making you giggle and kiss him back with excitement and a pinch of nerves in your stomach.

There’s a routine the two of you have silently adopted. Frankie sets up the small tent, just big enough for the two of you and Fox. You gather kindling, set up a fire, arrange the chairs and all-around make the outdoor area of your campsite ideal.

Frankie is a man of patience, truly, but sometimes the little portable tent proves to be a challenge. You allow Fox off of her leash, knowing she’s well-trained enough to stick around the site, and find your way to the mess of fabric and stakes covering the man. “Baby. For the love of God, we do this all the time,” you tease.

“Well, something must’ve fucking changed,” he grumbles as he fiddles with the parts. You get on your knees on the soft bed of dried pine needles and help him out. With your help, the tent takes no time at all to put up, and you stand and brush off your hands. Frankie gives you a sheepish smile and you give him a kiss.

The two of you don’t need to converse while you set things up. You enjoy the woods, the rustling of the wind and chirping of birds. Fox curls up on the blanket you set out for her, and when everything is done, you unzip the cooler and hand Frankie a beer. “Well, now we’re all set.”

“Let the fun begin,” he chuckles and twists the top open, clinking his glass bottle to yours.

“So, Francisco,” you smile over at him. “What do you have planned for this trip? I know you have some sort of plan laid out up there,” you tease and rap on his head softly, through the trucker cap resting there.

He blushes a little and looks away. “I don’t always have a plan.”

“Hey.” You turn his face back to yours by the chin. “You do and I absolutely love it. Now tell me about it, please, baby.”

Frankie removes his hat and runs a hand through his curls. “Well, I figured we could start the fire soon, cook dinner over it. It’ll get dark pretty quick. Then hang around the campfire, maybe play some of the games I packed.”

“Is a quiet tumble in the tent on the cards?” You ask him with a teasing grin, nudging his side.

He shrugs, jokingly, as if he’s considering it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t squeeze that in. We only have, oh… three hours of time in between these plans.”

“Then we’ll use all three of those hours,” you shrug and steal a kiss, smiling into his lips. “I love you. And I love it out here.” You were never a nature person before Frankie, usually preferring indoors adventures to hiking or camping. Frankie looks like he belongs out here, and he probably thinks he does. Even if you didn’t enjoy the fun of outdoors adventuring, you’d have at least one thing to enjoy: Frankie’s excitement and enthusiasm over it. “Thank you.”

Fox is curled at Frankie’s feet, and he bends over to scratch her ears, running his fingers through her scruffy fur. “Thank you, baby. For coming out here with me and putting up with all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better adventure partner.”

You do, indeed, cook dinner over the fire. You’d prepped all kinds of chopped vegetables to be grilled over an open flame, and had additionally packed pre-cooked hot dogs as well as s’mores ingredients. Frankie is a firm believer that it’s not camping if it doesn’t include graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

Luckily, your Frankie is a skilled griller. He always is, always has been. He takes care of the cooking part, since you prepared everything else, though he lets you hold the hot dogs over the fire to roast. “I feel like I’m at camp again,” you laugh as you slowly rotate the food over the fire.

Frankie is taking charge of the vegetables, expertly. They’re getting a beautiful char, you notice. “It’s much better, because you don’t have to sneak around to make out with your boyfriend at night, huh?” He teases and tosses you a grin.

“But I get my boyfriend all to myself,” you nod and confirm. “And I have my baby girl with me,” you coo as you rub Foxtrot’s head, where she’s resting at your side.

The meal is delicious, of course, when the two of you work together and each used your strong skills. Frankie slips bites to Fox when he thinks you’re not looking, of course, but it’s endearing, the way the dog’s big brown eyes mirror those looking down at her.

There’s not much conversation while you eat, mouths occupied with food rather than speaking. That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for that tonight and tomorrow.

The sun starts sinking lower when Frankie brings the marshmallows from the tent. “Guess what time it is!” He exclaims as he rips open the bag, skewering two marshmallows and holding them over the fire.

Like he’s a skilled griller, he’s also a wonderful marshmallow-toaster. Frankie toasts yours to perfection, just the way you like it, and you do your part as the s’more-sandwicher, shoving the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate.

There’s no signal out here, and you agreed neither of you would use your phones unless an emergency happened. Frankie frowns as he sees your phone. “Hey. Put that away. Don’t use that.”

“There’s an emergency, Frankie,” you whine, opening the camera app with one hand and eating the sugary dessert with the other.

“And what’s that?” He asks, taking a bite of his s’more.

Strings of gooey marshmallow connect the sandwich to his lips, making him laugh, and you snap a picture at the perfect moment: Frankie’s closed-lipped smile as his s’more falls apart on him. “You’re too damn cute, that’s the emergency,” you laugh and set the photo as your lock screen, tossing it away.

Frankie’s schedule actually worked itself naturally. After the s’mores and a wet-wipe hand-washing to remove the endless marshmallow from Frankie’s hands, you find yourself sitting around the fire, no light left in the sky. When you look up, all you can see is inky blue and pine trees, the stars yet to make their nightly rise.

“I have a song request,” Frankie asks and raises his hand like a child in a classroom.

“Yes, Francisco?” You tease as you walk to the tent, grabbing your ukulele and returning with it, sitting back in your lawn chair with it. “Hit me.”

“Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel. No, wait- Country Roads.”

Laughing, you noodle around with the strings for a moment. You knew this moment would come, and here’s the opportunity. “I can play all of those and more, Frankie. We’ll do the Billy Joel first,” you nod decisively.

Frankie sounds like the forest wolves at night when he sings along. He absolutely howls, taken away by the song, taken to a place where his voice isn’t just a little on the rougher end of good. He belts the words and dances along in his seat, like you do.

Then Country Roads. You thought the last one was bad before you hear Frankie’s booming voice echoing the ballad of West Virginia through seemingly the entire preserve. But you don’t care in the slightest. You sing along proudly, strumming your ukulele harder and harder until you’re sure you can’t add any more volume before snapping a string.

After the song, you pause and rest your ukulele flat on your lap. “Frankie, baby. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, smiling over at you. “Any time. What’s up, buttercup?” He asks, taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles.

“Will you marry me?” You ask. The question is straight and to the point, blunt and honest. Your face conveys your hope, and the grandiose speech follows. “I love you beyond belief, Frankie. I love you almost as much as you love these woods. I know you love me too. I just… think it’s time. We’ll be perfect for it. What do you say?”

You can feel Frankie’s slightly-chapped lips curve into a smile against your hand. He’s grinning and then he’s crying, soft water droplets forming in the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he grins, grabbing your ukulele and setting it aside.

Once the ukulele is on the ground, Frankie stands in front of your chair and lifts you to your feet, kissing you with such fervor you can’t help but gasp. When he breaks away, you smile, eyes watering too. “I know it wasn’t the most elegant of proposals, but-”

“It was the most us,” Frankie cuts you off with a teary grin. “I would be honored to be your husband, my love. You really want me enough to do that?”

“Frankie,” you coo, cupping his face in your hand. “You are the best husband I could ever want, could ever dream for,” you assure him and kiss his nose gently.

The man laughs, wiping his tears away. “Then let’s get married,” he whoops excitedly, then lets out an excited shout to the woods. “We’re getting married!”

You laugh at his loud and booming declaration, but nothing can detract you for the love and joy in your heart.

When you and Frankie settle down in your chairs again, you pick up the ukulele and finish off with one last beautiful song that you and Frankie have always adored, with a title that truly fits: At Last.

taglist:

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #frankie and charlie

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bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years ago

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Suptober Day 7: Young at Heart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Teen / Death!Dean & Human!Cas / Destiel / 5,073 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

It was a snowy evening in the heart of winter when Death roamed the streets of Chicago. You wouldn’t have known him from any other young man, bundled as he was in a worn leather jacket, jeans and boots but there was a certain static about him that made other pedestrians give him a wide berth. He was headed to the fire station on the corner of Hope and Clairmont, humming a Billy Joel song as he avoided slush piles and other humans alike.

He posted up against a telephone pole, making sure to breathe so any passers-by would note the cloud of air passing his lips on every exhale and assure themselves that he was human. It was the least he could do. He checked his watch, an old Timex with a cracked face, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any minute now.

Across the street, a young girl hurried into view from around the corner, her arms full of a bundle. She looked up at the sign over the fire station door, looked down at her bundle, and swallowed hard. A tiny arm rose from the bundle, naked and red. The girl took it and tucked it back inside the blanket. She sniffled, setting the bundle gingerly down on the top step before backing away slowly. One step, then another her eyes remaining on the pile of blankets before her face crumpled and she turned to run, a dry sob echoing down the empty street.

Death pushed off the telephone pole and made his way leisurely across the street. The baby had started to cry, cold now without its mother to hold it and keep its limbs covered. Death looked down at it, feeling its little heartbeat slow. He crouched down, breathing directly onto the child, and knew he was likely making its final moments worse, a wretched thing like him, even if he was trying to provide a little warmth.

Then something unexpected happened. The baby quieted and bright blue eyes opened, holding Death captive in an intense stare. Death couldn’t feel things, he mused, but if it could, surely it would have been charmed by the babe who instead of recoiling from its impending end, raised a hand toward him, beckoning.

Death raised a cautious hand, one finger hooking in that tiny fist and he was surprised at how strong it was, despite the hypothermia. The child held his gaze still, just looking not pleading or frozen in horror and Death glanced at his watch again, noting the time. He looked up at the firehouse door, the sound of laughter dulled by the heavy metal. If only the girl had knocked before she ran. Death looked back to the child, its ethereal stare snagging his again.

Death raised his hand and knocked.

Inside the firehouse, a number of men made an uneasy circle around the strange man holding a bundled infant. Death hadn’t meant to stay but since he’d already gone and messed with the strings of Fate he figured he might as well assure that the child was taken care of.

“You found him on our stoop?”

“Yeah, you know, I figured some poor kid musta left him. Safe harbor and all.”

Death looked around then down at the babe who seemed to be transfixed by Death’s face. Death wondered what he saw, why he wasn’t scared. His little soul was a speck of shining light, strong and hearty though his body was frail with the beginnings of pneumonia settling in his lungs.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

Death blinked and the man recoiled slightly. “Well, he was left here, and don’t you have EMTs on staff.”

One of the men seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and stepped closer. He shivered as Death transferred the baby into his arms, the brush of his hand on Death’s coat giving him a sudden vision of fire and smoke and a strange sense of vertigo as if falling through the floor. He coughed, moving to lay the child on the table and it immediately started to cry. Death hovered closer moving into the child’s line of sight and it settled down though still made discontented noises as he was poked and prodded.

“Did you see who dropped him off? A firefighter asked and Death shrugged, hands back in his pockets.

“She was young. Hurried off before I could say anything.”

The firefighter narrowed his eyes but didn’t question it. “Did she say anything? Why she was dumping him? If he had a name?”

Death paused, looking down at the boy whose eyes were on him bright blue as all newborns are but there was an electricity in them. Death laid a gentle hand on the child’s head, feeling the soft down of hair, the fragile skull.

“No,” Death said finally. “But his name,” Death smiled and the child seemed to smile back. “Is Castiel.”

“Cas-tee-what?” One of the fire fighter’s whispered to another and Death turned towards him, causing both men to step back.

“Castiel. The Angel of Thursday.” Death’s thumb swiped across the child’s forehead. “The Angel of Solitude.”

Death was a busy man, lots to attend to and never in the same place for very long. He worked mostly with children, preferring to be the one to usher them to the other side but as time passed he found himself returning to one place over and over.

The child he saved had been adopted almost immediately by a couple who’d lost many children of their own. Death may have pulled a few strings with Fate but the outcome was ideal. Castiel grew up well-loved and cherished by a mother and a father who understood the great gift they’d been given. They even decided to keep his name, something that pleased Death immensely. If he gave the grandparents a few extra years because of it, well that was his business.

It was a windy day at the beginning of spring when Fate suddenly shifted and Death lighted down in Chicago once more. Castiel, climbing around on the jungle gym at the local park, his babysitter on the phone several yards away was forty-five minutes from an untimely end. Death hung back, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watched the scene play out, an older man making his way over. Death eyed the babysitter as the man approached Castiel, holding a leash and collar.

“My dog got out of her leash! Can you help me find her?” The man said, his face drawn in grief but Death saw into his heart and his rage rumbled as thunder in the distance.

“Oh no!” Castiel exclaimed, jumping down and touching the leash in the man’s hand. “I’ll help you find her. I got a dog too. His name is Marshmallow.”

The man offered his hand and Castiel took it.

Death was there in an instant, one hand on the man’s shoulder. When the man looked up, his mouth opened in surprise and he gasped his last breath. Castiel cocked his head to the side at the man crumpled on the ground before he looked up at Death. Death could only stare back.

“What happened?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “He was a bad man. He wanted to take you.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose and he looked down at the cooling body on the wood chips. “Is he going to be okay?”

Death fought a smile, eyes flicking to the reaper nearby before waving them away with the man’s wretched soul. “He’s gone to where he belongs.”

Castiel nodded and offered his hand. “Wanna swing with me?”

Death’s neck jerked in surprise but found himself carefully slotting his hand in the child’s and allowing himself to be lead off to the swing set.

“I’m Castiel. What’s your name?”

Death paused thinking back to a time when he had a name. “Dean, I think.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel looked up at him, his face dominated by large blue eyes. “Wait, you think? Don’t you know your own name?”

Death huffed. “Well, no one has used it in… a very long time.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel grabbed onto one chain of a swing and turned to sit in it. “It must be lonely, no one knowing your name.”

Death sat in the swing next to the boy and pursed his lips. “Maybe a little, but it’s not so bad. My work keeps me busy.”

Castiel kicked off with his feet and began pumping his legs, reaching higher. Death lifted his head to watch. “‘Daddy says ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ I asked him who Jack was.” Castiel let his feet drag along the ground, grinding to a halt and Death felt a smile quirk at his lips as the child’s head tipped to the side in confusion. “But he just laughed.” Castiel’s head righted itself. “Not at me though. Sometimes I’m funny and don’t realize it.”

Death surprised himself with a laugh, the sound carrying on the wind and making the group of people gathering around the corpse by the jungle gym shiver. The babysitter was still on the phone but the commotion was stealing her attention. Death turned to look at Castiel, rocking back and forth in his swing, his eyes on the horizon.

“Hey, just so you know, for next time, any stranger comes up to you asking you to go somewhere with them you kick em in the shin and scream your head off,” Death rested his palm atop the boy’s head and Castiel looked up at him, a small smile playing across his lips. “Capiche?”

Castiel gave a deep nod. “I capiche.” His eyes had found his babysitter who was now frantically searching for him. When her eyes landed on him, Death hid himself from her. “She looks really mad.”

“She’s just scared,” Death replied and Castiel looked over at him. “You wandered off and she didn’t know where you were.” And a guy dropped dead about six feet from where you were playing.

“Castiel!” The babysitter skidded to a halt in the gravel in front of Castiel’s swing, pulling him into her arms. “You scared me.” She picked him up, hooking him on her hip. “Come on we need to go.”

The child heaved a deep sigh as if resigned to his fate. “Okay.” He twisted in her arms, looking back at Death, and gave a small smile. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye kiddo.”

The babysitter was already starting to walk away and she snorted, looking over her shoulder then at Castiel. “Who are you talking to.”

“Dean. He’s my new friend.”

Death sat smiling until they were out of sight.

Castiel was eight when his dog Marshmallow was going into his fifteenth year. Death generally let the new recruits handle the animals but on a scorching summer day, he found himself standing at the gate of the big craftsman on the corner where Castiel lived. He looked up at the second-story window, the one he knew to be the young boy’s who was getting bigger every day.

They’d met many times over since that first encounter in the park and to Death’s surprise, Castiel always remembered him and knew him by name. Now seemed to be no exception, the front door opening to release Castiel into the world. His dark hair was an unruly swirl beneath the baseball cap he wore, his matching t-shirt proclaiming he played for the Mustangs, sponsored by Nally Ford.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a small smile as he approached. Death smiled back but his eyes caught on the white ball of fluff that was attempting to make his way down the porch steps to follow the boy.

Death let himself in the gate, striding forward and they met halfway, Castiel looking up into Death’s face while Death peered down into his. There was no fear there, no anxiety. There never had been, a wonder Death never could truly comprehend. Marshmallow gave a low growl. Death glanced down at the old dog, barely any teeth left in his head but ready to bite at the smallest provocation. That was about right.

“Marshmallow. No.” Castiel looked down at the dog then back up into the face of Death. “He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t feel good.” Castiel watched as Death crouched down, hand reaching. The growl ceased as Death’s hand hovered over the dog’s head and Castiel squatted down to pet him, hands gentle around the old dog’s ears.

“Yeah, about that,” Death began softly. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, Cas, but Marshmallow is very old.” As he said it, the dog’s eyes sank closed. Castiel rubbed his ears.

“I know.”

Death swallowed hard, his hand moving to hover over the dog’s back and Marshmallow’s legs gave out, his body rolling to the side as he began to pant. Castiel rubbed his belly. “And when dogs get very old, well, they have to go.” Castiel looked up at him. “And when that happens, someone comes to get them.”

Castiel looked down at the dog who was panting, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. He ran his fingers through the curly white fur at his side. “Not the dog catcher…”

Death chuckled. “No, no not the dog catcher. Someone who helps them make the transition to their next journey.”

Castiel continued to play with Marshmallow’s fur. “Who?”

Death licked his lips, sucked in a breath he didn’t need. “They look like ordinary folks, sometimes you can see them, other times you can’t.”

“Like you?”

Death blinked and took a moment to marvel at the feeling of surprise, something he hadn’t felt in eons. “Yes, like me.”

Castiel looked up at him, blue eyes steady but solemn. “You’re here to take him, aren’t you?”

Death swallowed hard, the sorrow in the boy’s voice cutting him deeper than tears ever could. “Yeah, Cas. I’m sorry.”

Castiel sniffled a bit as he looked down, petting down Marshmallow’s side. “You’ll look after him? Wherever you take him? He won’t be alone, right?”

Death placed a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and waited for a shiver that never came. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, of course, Cas.”

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and sat down on his butt, folding his legs so they butted up against Marshmallow’s legs. “Can I have just a few more minutes?”

Death glanced at his watch and nodded. They sat there, young boy and ancient entity as the dog’s breath became more shallow. Castiel dug his fingers into the thick curls of Marshmallow’s side and folded himself in half, pressing his face to its chest. The dog fussed attempted to lick at Castiel’s ball cap. Castiel breathed in deep and Death found himself doing the same, smelling cut grass, sweat and the musky odor of an animal nearing its end.

“It’s time, Cas,” Death murmured, his voice low and Castiel lifted his head, face tear-stained now, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He placed his hands on the dog’s side, looked up at Death, and nodded.

Death allowed the dog to sniff the back of his hand, accepting the feeble lick before he carded his hand through the curls at the top of his head. Castiel’s hands that had been rising and falling with the dog’s labored breath stopped. Death curled his hand and brought it to his chest, holding it there for the feeble soul to feel safe on its journey. His other hand when to the top of Castiel’s head.

“Go get your father. He’ll help you with the ritual.”

“Can’t you stay?” Castiel asked, blue eyes shining with unshed tears and if Death had a heart it would have broken.

“I’ve gotta get Marshmallow to where he belongs.” Dean knuckled away a tear that was making its way down Castiel’s cheek.

“Okay,” Castiel lowered his head, looking at the cooling body of his beloved pet. He looked back up. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Death was unprepared for the boy to wrap his arms around him in a tight squeeze before getting up and walking back towards the house.

Castiel was twenty when his fate changed again and Death nearly didn’t make it in time. In the back seat of a car, driving way too fast down a dark winding road, Death appeared next to him, his face striated in moonlight. Castiel jumped, his reflexes slower with the alcohol in his veins.

“Dean?”

“Cover your face, kid.” Death muttered as he braced his feet against the seat in front of him and threw out an arm.

When they hit the tree at 63 miles per hour Castiel’s body slammed into his arm and Death could feel the ribs break, felt the punctured lung as if it were his own. The driver was halfway through the windshield, another reaper already there to take him. Death waved them away as blood slowly filled Castiel’s lungs.

He coughed, choking on the acrid liquid, unable to get a full breath. His hand twisted in Death’s leather jacket, tugging, blue eyes wide and for the first time Death saw fear there. He couldn’t stand it. He reached past the headrest in front of him, touched the mangled face of the boy there and he immediately stopped breathing.

“You can’t do that!” A voice sharp from outside the car and Death nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned his head to look out the window and found the small blond woman standing there with her clipboard of names. “It’s the other boy’s time, Dean.”

Death glared out at her, throwing open the door. “You got your soul. Get out of here.”

“You reaped the wrong-“

“The hell I did,” Death yelled and every animal in the forest quieted, the wind through the trees died down.

The two of them watched as headlights appeared down the road, slowing when the driver saw the wreckage. Death and Fate stood side by side on the shoulder of the road as the good Samaritan talked to Castiel through the back window, promising him everything would be alright.

“He’ll make it.” Death heaved a sigh, hearing the sirens in the distance.

“Just barely,” Fate muttered, consulting her clipboard. “One of these days you’re going to run out of favors.”

Death turned to look at her. “Not any time soon.”

It was three days later in his half-empty dorm room that Castiel attempted to take his own life. Death arrived just as Castiel kicked the chair out of the way, his body falling with an extension cord wrapped tight around his neck right into Death’s arms. A quick flick of his pocket knife and Death had freed Castiel, laying him gently down on the floor as he coughed and sobbed.

“No! Take me! I want to die!” Castiel twisted onto his knees, grabbing onto Death’s legs and hugging them tightly. “Please. I can’t take it. The guilt, it’s too much!”

Death ran his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair. “It’s not your time.”

“It was my time,” Castiel wiped at his face, fury in his eyes as he glared up at the ancient entity. “I heard you and that lady talking. She said you reaped the wrong one!”

“You hit your head pretty hard, kid.”

Castiel wiped at his face furiously, getting his trembling legs under him. “I know what you are. What you do.”

Death brought himself to his full height, leveling Castiel with his most pensive stare. “Do you?”

“I’ve always known,” Castiel spit. “And I never cared. You were always my…” Castiel trailed swallowing hard. “My friend. But this, I can’t take this Dean.”

“Why can’t you just be grateful,” Death huffed holding out his arms.

Castiel’s face went slack with shock. “You kill the man I love instead of me and I’m supposed to be grateful?”

Death’s mouth popped open, surprised again, that made twice in a single decade now. “Your… the man you loved? Wow, how did I miss that?”

“You miss a lot of things,” Castiel spit, his eyes hard.

Death rubbed his mouth. “When-“

“Since I was a child,” Castiel heaved a sigh. “Look don’t try to change the subject. I was dying already, Dean!” Castiel’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why’d you have to take him? He was everything to me. How could you not know that?”

Death rubbed the back of his neck, “Life isn’t really under my purview, kid.”

“What about love then?” Castiel got right in his face, nose to nose, and Death stood stock still.

“I know it when I see it.”

“Then you must have been blind that night.” Castiel spun away, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this. Please. Take me.”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

“I told you. It’s not your time.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you have some weird obsession with me?” Castiel strode right up into what a human would call their personal space. “What is it about me huh? Why me? Why don’t you latch on to some other poor bastard?”

Death swallowed hard. “I can go if you’d like.”

Castiel let out a humorless laugh. “Stay. Go. What do I care?” He let himself fall onto his bed, face buried in his pillow while Death stood watch.

Death didn’t see much of Castiel after that or more like Castiel didn’t see much of him. He’d check in every now and then, saw him graduate college, move to the east coast, fall in love and get his heart broken only to fall in love again. Through it all Death stood watch, sometimes with Fate at his side, like at Castiel’s wedding.

“I could step in,” Fate murmured, an offer she wasn’t likely to make twice but Death shook his head, watching as Castiel beamed with happiness after kissing his husband.

It wasn’t long after that they met again in a hospital just north of Chicago. It was nearing midnight and no one was around. Castiel was sitting with his mother, his husband and father had gone home hours before but Castiel insisted on staying. Neither could understand why Castiel refused to leave her side but didn’t question it. Castiel was a good son who loved his mother very much.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as Death hovered in the doorway. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I tried to wait for you to leave,” Death mumbled, looking down at his boots as he tapped his toe on the floor.

“Why?”

Death looked up and found Castiel’s head canted to the side, and he couldn’t help but smile. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms when we last spoke.”

Castiel looked down at his mother’s hand, so small and frail in his own. He cleared his throat. “You were right. I should have been grateful.”

“It was a callous thing to say when you were grieving.”

Castiel snorted. “That’s true.” He huffed a sigh. “But ultimately you were right. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know what love was then. Not that kind of love anyway.” Castiel ran his thumb over the thin blue veins of his mother’s hand. “How much longer does she have?”

Death checked his watch. “We’ve got a few more minutes.”

“Then sit.”

Death did, across the bed from Castiel and took in the changes, the strands of gray in his hair, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes and mouth.

“You know you look exactly the same as I remember you when I was four.”

Death grinned. “All that clean living.”

Castiel snorted, a grin pulling at his own lips before it faded. “You’ll take care of her?”

Death nodded. “Of course.”

Castiel squinted, opening his mouth then closing it again. Death heaved a sigh. “Go ahead. Ask whatever you want to ask me.”

Castiel’s cheeks bloomed a lovely pink that Death would see in every sunrise from that moment on. “How’s Marshmallow?”

Death blinked. “I give you one question to ask me whatever you want and you ask about your damn dog?”

Castiel frowned. “I loved that dog.”

Death rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Marshmallow is doing great. Has lots of doggy friends.”

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Good. I hope Mom gets to see him.”

“I’ll make sure she does.”

“I’m ready.”

Death gave a small nod, waiting a beat to watch Castiel breath in steadily, his eyes on his mother’s face. Death reached forward, fingers brushing a white curl from her forehead before resting his palm there gently. One of the monitors began to scream. A nurse bustled in quickly, checking in and ultimately turning off the sound, standing by as the old woman took her last breaths. Death took her soul and cradled it to his chest.

“Take care of her,” Castiel whispered and Death gave him a solemn nod before he went on his way.

It wasn’t long after that Fate dealt Castiel another bad hand and Death had arrived to do his duty. Castiel’s husband laid prone on a hospice bed, his once strong body frail and hairless, ravaged by a disease Death hated almost more than he hated himself. Death came into the room unannounced, stood by Castiel’s side as silent tears ran down his face.

Death checked his watch.

“I can feel you.”

Death nearly fell over in shock. Third time in as many decades. Damn.

“Don’t hide, Dean. I’ve been expecting you.”

“I tried.” Death placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I tried but I’m out of favors.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel sniffled, his own hand coming up to cover the cool one on his shoulder and Death felt the warmth as if it were the sun. “How much time do we have?”

“Couple minutes.”

Castiel nodded, leaning forward and placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. He gasped awake, eyes hazy with pain and medication but something in them still blazed when they landed on Castiel.

“Honey, I want you to meet someone. Can you see him? Next to me.” Castiel turned, looking up at Death, and licked his dry lips.

“Yes,” Castiel’s husband croaked. “He’s just as handsome as you said.”

Castiel let out a watery laugh, glancing up at Death who was not blushing as he reached up to rub his ear. “He’s here for you.”

Castiel’s husband nodded solemnly. “About time.”

Castiel let out a quiet sob and immediately tried to shove it back into his mouth. His husband squeezed his hand as Death squeezed his shoulder.

“Come on now. This ain’t the end. I’ll see you. Hopefully not too soon?” Castiel’s husband lifted his brows and Death gave him a small smile.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Castiel was leaning over, pressing his forehead to his husband’s and breathing slow in his nose and out his mouth, barely hanging on. Death stepped forward, hand covering the one that Castiel held. One final gasp and then the room was silent. Castiel gave a soft cry, feeling warmth rush through him, love and light and something so bright it almost burned. And then it was gone.

Death pulled the soul close to his chest, his other hand lighting on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel glanced up into the face of Death but was immediately distracted by the small ball of light in his hand. Castiel looked up and Death nodded in answer to his question. Castiel let go of the hand in his and wrapped his arms around himself as the tears came hot and fast.

“Can you please stay?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “I need to take care of him. But I can come back.”

“Please hurry.”

Death wasn’t really the type to hang around any one place too long but for years after Castiel’s husband’.s transition, he found himself irrevocably drawn to Castiel. He’d always been to a certain extent but the man’s grief had worn down all his defenses, all his excuses to stay away. For once Death was welcomed into a home with open arms.

They sat on the couch and watched bad television. Death had a strange obsession with Dr. Sexy that Castiel found hilarious. Death tolerated all of Castiel’s terrible nature documentaries. It was one night as Castiel was going up the stairs to bed that he paused, looking back at Death who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I love you, Dean. You know that right?”

Death stood stock still and he’d be goddamned if it hadn’t happened again. He looked up to find Castiel just standing there on the third step, gaze just as intense as it had been when he’d first laid eyes on him as an infant. He didn’t have to say it. Neither of them did so Castiel just gave him a small smile and continued his ascent up the stairs. And that night, Death followed.

It was both the worst and best day of his tenure when Castiel’s time was finally up. Fate in her fussy suit with her obnoxious clipboard arrived to stand at the end of the hospital bed where Castiel lay, Death at his side.

“No more favors. No more tricks,” Fate said softly and Death looked away from the face of his beloved, aged and creased as it was now, while his was permanently stuck as youthful and smooth.

“Can I keep him?” Death asked, staring into the eyes of Fate and daring to hope. “I know it’s not ever been done. I know this is a one-person gig but…” Death looked back upon the only face he’d ever loved, into the only eyes that had ever truly seen him. “Just this once, can I keep him?”

Fate gave him a small smile. “Yes, Dean. He’s yours to keep.”

So Death and his companion were joined at the human’s crossing, bound by Fate herself to walk through eternity together. Sure they quarreled, sometimes even spending a few decades apart but the string that tethered them was unbreakable, a fact Death loved to remind his younger counterpart of.

It’s said that when a couple dies within hours of each other they’re always accompanied by another couple, two men, handsome and young, looking more in love than any cosmic entities had a right to be.

#suptober21 #destiel #supernatural #fanfic: supernatural #deancas #character death #the dog dies sorry #writing by me

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gravegroves · 4 years ago

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ace nancy 👀?? from your wips?

I'm gonna preffice this by warning that Billy knows about Asexuality but isn't all that good at explaining it or the nuanced spectrum of being Ace. Also it's the 80's, so please read the following with that in mind. (Clarification comes later in the fic)

So this fic is about Billy being pressganged by Mr Clark into joining the debate team for the State Championships for extra credit. Nancy would rather have a Demodog chomp her left leg off than team up with Billy Hargrove, but things have a way of working out.

A few excerpts:

"Be honest Wheeler, did Harrington make you come even once?"

Nancy blushes.

"Oh, holy shit, he really didn't, did he?"

"I didn't say that--" Nancy insists, loudly.

Billy laughs, "Oh, you didn't have to, Princess. Your face says it all."

"Shut up, Hargrove, just…" Nancy huffs in frustration and goes back to picking at the label a little more aggressively, "Just don't."

"Hey, I'm not judging you, that's all on Harrington. What a dick."

"He's not really. Not anymore. It's just," Her nail finally catches and she rips another strip of wet, sticky label off the bottle and flings it into the grass, "He was my first, you know? I didn't know what to do or how to - to move, and then it was over and I just remember thinking, is that all it is? And then I thought, maybe I'm just not good at it yet, maybe I just need to try again."

She sniffs, reaches up to wipe her face and Billy realises with a sickening lurch in his stomach that Wheeler is crying. He stares at her, frozen solid with uncertainty about what to do.

"And then I thought maybe there's something wrong with him, you know?" Her voice turns bitter. "Like, why couldn't he make it good for me? It's not like I hadn't heard about the other girls talking about Steve before we got together. None of them had any complaints."

"But then I got together with Jonathan and I thought this feeling, this is what I was missing. But-- it didn't fix anything! It didn't fix me."

Billy flounders a little, but ultimately goes with the first thing that pops into his head. "There isn't anything wrong with you, Wheeler."

Nancy cackles a little, sways on the spot, the drink clearly loosening her tongue as well as her body. "Yeah? You gonna show me what I've been missing out on, huh? You wanna take me for a ride in your Camaro, Billy?"

Billy gags a little at the thought, luckily Nancy is too preoccupied by taking another swig from her bottle to notice.

"Oh yeah, that'd end really fucking well."

*****

"You literally did an hour long presentation on Nicola Tesla last semester and spent a quarter of it talking about why he never got married. Don't tell anyone I said this, but you're not exactly stupid. Don't fail me now, Wheeler."

Nancy blinks, looks likes she's thinking real fucking hard. Maybe Billy spoke too soon.

"You ever heard of the term asexual?"

"I think so?" She says, slowly, sounding out the words with deliberate care and turning it into a question. A valley grows between her brows in concentration. "The farmers at the spring festival talked about-- about culling a rooster because it wouldn't, like, mount the hens naturally. I'm sure that's the term he used.

"Jesus Christ." Billy sucks deeply on his cigarette. "It means you don't wanna fuck." Billy frowns, waves his hand dismissively. "Like, you can like it just fine, but you don't think about it like most people do. Something like that."

Nancy straightens of her slouch to lean back and stare at him, jerking a little when she overbalances and steadies herself by grabbing the crook of Billy's elbow. "That doesn't sound normal."

He shrugs a little, takes one last pull from the cigarette before flicking the butt at the ground. "What the fuck is normal, huh?" He grinds the butt into the gravel and turns to look at her, "Let's get you back on your pea, princess. I think you've had enough for one night."

He holds out a hand.

Nancy takes it.

*****

Billy jerks out of doze when someone drops into the seat next to him. He already knows who it's gonna be before he turns to look.

"Morning Wheeler, you get lost on the way to your seat?"

Billy looks around pointedly, his little nook in the back of the bus cut off from the rest of the group by a good five or six rows of empty seats. Far enough to get the point across that Billy isn't there by choice or planning to socialise with any of these nerds.

"No." She says simply.

"You sure? Seems like an awful lot of empty seats for you to be getting all friendly. How's the head?"

Nancy ignores him. Stares at the back of the seat in front of her like it gave her a less than a perfect grade. She purses her lips in that awful way that reminds Billy of a cat's asshole, but she doesn't run off in a huff like he expects.

"You're right." She says, still not looking at him. He watches a muscle tick in her jaw as she grinds her teeth.

He grins.

"You about to have a heart to heart with me, Wheeler? Gotta know whether or not to turn the volume up on these things." He gestures to the headphones pushed partially off his left ear.

She turns her head and regards him cooly for a beat, before a hand shoots out and bats the thing off his head with a quick swipe.

"Watch it!" Billy scrambles to catch them by the cord before they fall to the floor.

Nancy smiles sweetly, "Don't be a dick, Hargrove."

He rolls his eyes.

"Bitch."

"Slut."

"Whore."

She shoots him a pitying look. "Oh Billy, we both know Christie Otto paid you twenty bucks to let her suck your toes."

Billy guffaws, taken completely by surprise and loving it.

Nancy stares, disbelieving.

"You actually did it?"

Billy grins.

Her face does a complicated thing before settling on a confused expression. "But why?"

"Twenty bucks is a hell of a lot of dough for us mere peasants, Princess."

Billy screws his face up, tries not to squirm uncomfortably in his seat at the memory, "Maybe I should have warned her that I'm ticklish. Almost kicked her face in, like, three times."

Nancy coughs. Covers her mouth as she laughs into her hands, like she doesn't want him to see that he made her laugh.

"Not that this isn't nice and all--"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you got somewhere to be, Hargrove?" She snaps, deadpan, but Billy can tell she's nervous from the way she wrings her hands and hides them up her sleeves.

"I just wanted to say thank you--"

"Don't mention it, Wheeler." He says, hastily. Actually he'd prefer it if they never spoke about it ever again.

She glares at the interruption, but presses on. "-- thank you and I wanted to know if I could talk to you. More. About it."

And now it's Billy's turn to stare. Nancy meets his eyes with a determined gaze. Whatever shit Tommy and the rest of the school likes to say about Nancy Wheeler, she's got stones, he'll give her that.

"Alright."

*****

The topic is announced.

Gay marriage.

Berkeley for. Hawkins against.

They win by a landslide.

Of course they do.

The team from Berkeley registers a formal complaint with the panel the second the win is announced. Mr Scott and his Berkeley counterpart are waved up to approach the judges table. Billy wants desperately to leave, but he's forced to sit and watch the Berkeley debate coach protest the unfair conditions his team had been placed under.

"No one in their right mind would chose to side with us on such a topic. No matter how well my kids argue their case."

"I'm afraid I disagree." Mr. Clarke argues. "We debate politically and morally charged topics all the time, Mr. Davenport. The judges judge how well you present your side, not their own personal beliefs.

Billy snorts. Feels unclean after having to stand on that stage and tell the world how unfit people like him are to love. To form families. To be allowed to simply be.

Even if it's all hypothetical, Billy knows those words came damn easily out of his team mates mouths, just as the words of support clearly left a sour after-taste in their opponents.

Nancy turns to look at him.

Fuck it.

Billy gets up and stalks out of the hall. Fuck it all to shit.

#billy hargrove #nancy wheeler #tag game #gravegroves writes #anon ask

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years ago

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Intercrurral prompt: Billy’s been harassing Steve all year, and it’s taking everything Steve has not to think bisexual thoughts about the guy he HATES. But one night, wrong place and wrong time, where they run into each other in the woods while Steve is on demodog patrol and Billy is escaping a bad run-in with Neil. Things boil over - the biggest imagery I have is Billy harshly whispering in Steve’s ear “Tell me you want this. TELL me you want ME.”

Okay, okay, okay

Here we GO. Alright. It took me a moment to find just the right way to do this, but I finally got it.

And it somehow ended up over 3k, whoooops. Let’s hope the read more actually works this time lol

TW for one use of the f-slur and misogynist language from Billy.

Steve ran a hand over his face as he stomped through the trees. The cold February air bit at his skin, made his nose run. Steve sniffed for what felt like the millionth time, still unable to stop the jittering in his bones. He couldn’t go home. Things felt too still, too quiet tonight. Something was going to happen. Steve could feel it.

He twirled the bat again, stretching out his fingers. The trees were dark against the snow, the cloudless night allowing the moon to shine in through breaks in the trees. Steve bit his lip, thinking about the day. It sent a spike of warmth to his gut and he frowned, annoyed with himself.

It wasn’t much different than normal. He spent the day tailing after Nancy and Jonathan, ignoring Tommy when he passed him in the hall, and trying to keep his dick to behave whenever Billy pressed up against him. Or pushed him. Or teased him. Or fucking looked at him, jesus. Steve had a problem and he really didn’t want to have it. He’s looked at guys before, done stuff before, but of all fucking people, his dick had to be interested in Billy fucking Hargrove.

He’d prefer his dick be interested in Jonathan.

There was a snap from a few meters ahead in the trees and Steve froze, all thoughts exiting his brain. His blood pumped through his veins and his pulse skyrocketed as he adjusted his grip on the bat. He quietly made his way forward, looking through the brush for anything weird. Anything slimy. There were some dark spots on the ground that Steve followed, panic clawing its way into his chest.

“Fuck!” He heard someone hiss. The sound came from in front of him and Steve relaxed minutely. It wasn’t demodogs.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t still a threat.

Steve did his best to make sure his shoes didn’t crunch too much in the snow as he approached a clearing. Someone was sitting on a log, hunched over on themselves, but they looked human enough. There wasn’t any weird smell, nothing too obviously weird, so Steve lowered the bat.

“Hello?” The person on the log jumped, standing and whirling around, fists up and ready. Bruised as well. Which was why Steve wasn’t surprised to find himself looking at Billy Hargrove.

A messed up Billy Hargrove.

He had a black eye and a bloody nose, with what looked like a small cut at his hairline. Steve kind of wished he hadn’t said anything. Billy relaxed minutely, face scrunching into a sneer.

“Harrington? What the fuck are you doing out here? Mommy and Daddy playing house?” Steve ignored the sting, flaring his nostrils as he flexed his hand around the bat. Billy’s eyes darted down before widening. “What the fuck?” His voice lost it’s teasing edge, verging into actually scared.

“Oh,�� Steve said, not wanting to drop the bat in case he needed it. For whatever reason. “Just-- On a walk.”

“On a walk?” Billy droned, unimpressed. “Really? Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” Steve bristled and whatever was in the air that night pressed him forward, made him confrontational.

“Maybe,” he replied. Billy tensed up, nostrils flaring as he grit his teeth. “Smart people don’t come out here at night.” Billy barked out a mean laugh.

“S’Why you’re out here then, huh?” Steve stopped a few feet away, slinging the bat over his shoulder. Now that he was closer, he could see that Billy’s cut was still bleeding. Could see that his wounds were fresh. That he was shaking.

“Seriously,” Steve said. “The woods around here aren’t safe.”

“Safer than other places,” Billy grumbled angrily. He looked up at Steve, eyes sharp. “If they’re so unsafe, why are you out here for a walk?” Steve’s mind went blank as he grasped for a reason.

“I-- Well, I mean--”

“You out here meeting some fag lover?” Billy said, smile sharp and mean. Steve clenched his fist, cheeks going ruddy. Billy tilted his head, pushing his cheek out with his tongue. Steve couldn’t help the way his eyes were drawn there.

“No,” he replied, stony. “Honestly just out for a walk.”

“Really? You and Creep Byers don’t meet up when Wheeler’s being too much of a bitch?” Steve gripped the bat tightly, scowling.

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped. Billy snorted, hiding a grimace, and rolled his eyes.

“She left you, man,” he said. “And you follow her and her new boyfriend around like a fucking lost dog.” Steve felt his cheeks heating up again, felt a blush creeping down his neck.

“Fuck you,” he said. “It’s called having friends, ever heard of it?” Billy sneered, getting up into Steve’s space. It made it a little hard to think, having him this close. Close enough that Steve could see where Billy would freckle in the sun, how blue his eyes were, could fucking smell him. He pushed the thoughts down, ignoring the heat in belly, just from having Billy close. Stupid dick.

“You think you’re so above everyone, everything, don’t you?” Steve rolled his eyes, letting the bat fall to his side. Billy wasn’t a threat, not really. Not worthy of the bat at least.

“What’s your issue, man?” Steve asked. Billy shoved him a little, making Steve take a step back.

“You’re my issue, Harrington,” he snapped. “And I told you to fucking plant your feet.”

“What the fuck did I ever--”

“Your fucking existence fucking pisses me off!” Billy shoved him again, harder this time, and Steve let out a grunt, dropping the bat. “You’ve got a fucking family that gives a shit, you’ve got fucking money, you’ve got fucking everything, and you--” Billy punctuated each reason with a shove, pushing until Steve was back up against a tree. When he cut himself off, something flashed over his face. Worry, fear, Steve wasn’t sure, but it was gone as soon as it was there. “You, Harrington, just piss me off.”

“You don’t know shit about me, Hargrove,” Steve snapped, trying to push him off. Billy pushed back, pinning him against the tree. Steve let out a grunt, freezing up as Billy’s pressed up closer, getting into Steve’s face. This was… dangerous. Steve was already chubbing up in his pants and he swallowed thickly, giving some more frantic shoves to Billy’s shoulders. “Fucking get off,” he said, voice high and pitchy. Billy sneered, shoving Steve to the ground, standing above him.

“You’re such a fucking pussy,” he sneered.

“At least I’m not some fucking violent freak,” Steve said, sharp and cutting and cruel. It’s what he wanted to be, in that moment. Billy did that to him. Brought out the King Steve who was mean, alone, and hurt. And the words worked. Billy snarled, jerking Steve up off the ground. Steve grabbed at Billy’s hands, stumbling.

“Fuck you,” Billy hissed. He gave Steve a shake, shoving him into another tree, slamming a hand next to his face. Steve’s chest heaved with anxiety and, unfortunately, arousal. He kind of had a thing for being manhandled. At least, being manhandled by Billy. The blonde pressed close, hurt shining in his eyes behind the fury. It threw Steve for a bit of a loop. “Fuck. You.” Billy repeated, voice wobbling. He pushed at Steve, pressing him up against the tree, before pausing. His eyes widened and Steve flushed. It was bound to happen, but Steve had held out some childish hope that Billy wouldn’t notice he’d been sporting a boner for a little while. “What--”

“You’ve made your point--” Steve tried, tense as he tried to sink into the tree.

“Are you hard?” Billy asked. Steve swallowed and closed his eyes, wishing the world could swallow him up. “Seriously?”

“I’m not talking with you about this,” Steve squeaked, trying to move away. Billy pinned him even more against the tree, sliding a leg between Steve’s thighs. He let out an involuntary whimper.

“You are,” Billy said, almost with wonder. Steve opened his eyes, meeting Billy’s blue ones. They were calculating, stripping him down, and it made Steve shiver. Billy’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip and his mouth curled up at the side. “Is it from the lack of pussy? Not enough girls begging to wet your dick?”

“Why are you so gross,” Steve breathed, closing his eyes again. “It’s not-- Just drop it--”

“Oh, so you only get like this,” Billy trailed a finger over Steve’s clothed dick, making him let out a choked cry, “For me?” Steve’s eyes snapped open and Billy grinned. There was something hungry in his eyes that made something hot curl through Steve, made him breath a little harder. But, well, this was Billy. He was probably fucking with him.

“Fuck off,” Steve breathed out, finding it hard to control his voice. He tried to push at Billy’s shoulders, tried to avoid those piercing eyes, but Billy caught his face in one hand, making Steve look at him. He slowly pushed his thumb into Steve’s mouth, pulling it open. The salty taste of his skin on Steve’s tongue made him breathe harder, chest heaving, pupils dilating.

God he was gonna get the shit beat outta him for this.

“I thought I was,” Billy began, trailing off. He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, tongue peeking out as he looked in Steve’s eyes, at his mouth, still open and panting. Gripped Steve through his pants, making his legs tremble. He was grateful for the tree behind him, that was for sure, otherwise he might have stumbled from his legs turning into jelly. Steve’s chest heaved, nervous and aroused, and Billy exhaled heavily through his nose.

“Thaw yoo were wha?” Steve asked, breathy and mangled from Billy still holding his mouth open, thumb pressed against Steve’s tongue.

“The way you look at me,” Billy said, eyes heated now, hungry, almost rabid with want. “Thought I was imagining it. But this,” he rubbed over Steve’s erection again, making him tremble, “Suggests that maybe I wasn’t.” Steve stared at Billy, dick throbbing. Billy licked over his bottom lip, almost unconsciously. His eyes flicked down to Steve’s bulge, a weird groan escaping him. It made Steve’s dick twitch in his jean almost painfully. Billy’s eyes widened and his eyes snapped back up to Steve’s.

“‘illy,” Steve tried, still unable to speak clearly with that thick fucking thumb on his tongue.

“God,” Billy groaned, shaking again, but with restraint. Like he was trying not to touch Steve more than he was already. “You’re so fucking-- You want this, don’t you?” Steve tried to shake his head, to deny the fucking obvious truth. “You want my dick in your mouth? Stretching those pretty pink lips?” And god, Steve did. He’d never had a dick in his mouth but god, did he want. He nodded, weakly. Billy tsked, pulling Steve’s mouth open more, until it almost hurt. His dick shouldn’t have liked it as much as it did but, well. “No no, Harrington,” Billy crooned. “Use your words.” He leaned in, lips brushing against Steve’s ear as their bodies pressed together. Steve couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t feel anything but the heat of Billy’s body pressed against him. Of his erection pressing against Steve’s thigh. Fuck. “Tell me you want this,” he hissed, breath puffing against Steve’s ear, sending goosebumps across his body. He gave a full body shiver, could practically feel Billy’s grin against his lobe, a wet tongue slowly following the shell. Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe and he never wanted it to stop. “Tell me you want me.”

“‘uck , ‘illy,” Steve wheezed, arching his back so their hips ground together, eliciting a moan from himself and a hiss from Billy. “Ye, ye, p’ease.” Billy’s hand fell out of his mouth, one hand gripping Steve’s hip as the other made quick work of his belt and zipper. There was a damp spot on the outside of his jeans, the inside of his underwear sticky from where he had been steadily leaking, and Billy’s sharp inhale made Steve groan. Billy looked at him, eyes hazy with lust as he licked his palm, maintaining eye contact as his gripped Steve’s dick, freed from the confines of his clothes. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened in a silent gasp as he tilted his head back, thunking against the tree. “Fuck,” he whined, hands gripping Billy’s biceps.

“I fucking knew it,” Billy hissed, leaning to press open mouthed kisses to Steve’s neck. The heat of Billy mixed with the cold, harsh air, drove Steve fucking mad. His head was foggy, filled to the brim with Billy. “Every time I shoved you, fucking every time I looked at you, I could see it.” Steve gasped as Billy latched onto his neck, biting and sucking. It was so different than anything Steve had experienced, even with the guys he’d fooled around with. Billy was rough, yet somehow still gentle, still attentive. His hand was slow, leisurely stroking Steve and swiping the head with his thumb. Steve wasn’t sure he’d still be upright if it wasn’t for Billy holding him up against the tree.

“See what?” He gasped.

“That you wanted me,” Billy replied, breath hot against Steve’s neck. “Wanted me to shove you, touch you.” Steve was dripping, shaking as Billy teased him. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you?” Billy whispered against Steve’s skin. Steve shook his head, unable to make his voice work. “Since that fucking party. Wanted to fucking claim you.” Steve found that he really, really wanted that too.

“Then do it,” he rasped, one shaky hand coming up to tangle in the hair at the nape of Billy’s neck. Billy’s hand faltered before pulling away. Steve whined, head tilting back down to look. Billy looked almost feral, eyes wild and face flushed. He made quick work of his jeans, pulling out his cock, angry and red and hard. Steve’s mouth fucking watered. Billy held his hand up, the one slick with Steve’s precum, and ordered,

“Lick.” Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He ran his tongue over Billy’s hand, getting it wet and spit slick. Billy watched, breathing hard through his nose, before he pulled his hand away, using the other to turn Steve around. “Pants at your knees, pretty boy.” His voice was low, husky, and Steve would do whatever he said. He could feel it, the need to obey. He’d never wanted to just let someone have their way with him, use him, but he found himself imagining Billy, relaxed as he ordered Steve to please him. He shuddered at the thought. Steve shimmied his jeans and underwear down, leaning against the tree and looking over his shoulder. Billy was stroking himself slowly, letting drool spill down his tongue and onto his dick until is was wet, dripping with saliva. Steve groaned.

“I’m not-- I’ve never--”

“Don’t you worry,” Billy said, hands gripping Steve’s cheeks as he squatted, pulling them apart. “When I fuck you, it’s gonna be thorough. Gonna open you on my fingers until you beg for me to stuff you with my cock.” And then he licked a hot, wet stripe from Steve’s perineum all the way up to his hole, circling the rim.

“Oh holy shit,” Steve cried, hips jerking back. He felt Billy’s chuckle against his skin. He lost himself in the sensation of Billy’s tongue, his mouth, licking and sucking at Steve’s taint and thighs until they were slick and wet. The sound he made, primal and needy, when Billy stood, almost made him embarrassed. He was too horny though.

“Clench those thighs for me, King,” Billy said, pressing a kiss to one of Steve’s back dimples. Steve shuddered, but did as he was told. When he felt Billy’s dick slide against the crease of his legs, he gasped, fingers clenching against the bark of the tree. The head of Billy’s cock slowly pushed in, gliding through the spit, now warmed by Steve’s skin. It was veiny, thick, and velvety soft against the meat of Steve’s thighs. When the tip brushed against the back of his balls, Steve whimpered, biting his lip. Billy’s hand was tight, bruising against his hip. The other came and pulled Steve’s hair, tilting his head back so he couldn’t hide any noises.

“Please, please, please,” Steve rambled, mind blanking out except for Billy. The feel of him between his thighs, the smell of his cologne, fuck, even the rough denim of his jeans against the back of his thighs. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. Billy let out a long, rumbling groan.

“Jesus fuck,” Billy said, voice sounding as wrecked as Steve felt. His hips snapped forward, slapping against Steve’s thighs and ass, and Steve gasped, fingers painfully gripping at the tree bark. He hadn’t expected it, but the glide of Billy’s dick against his thighs was incredible. The way the head tickled the back of his balls, the way he could feel Billy’s dick leaking precum, sliding it around as he made Steve’s thighs slicker and slicker. Steve clamped them as tightly as he could, getting an aborted moan for his efforts. He grinned as Billy moved faster, hips slamming against Steve, forcing high pitched moans out every time. “Look at you,” Billy rumbled. “So fuckin’ pretty like this, Harrington. Bent over like the needy little bitch you are.” Steve should have bristled at the words, should have pushed Billy away, but something inside him went white hot in pleasure. Made his cock drip.

Like most things Steve was discovering about himself, it came down to Billy. If anyone else tried it, he’d hate it. But, fuck. Billy made it sound like the best thing in the world.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out. “Fuck yeah I am.” Billy let out a sound that made heat burst in Steve’s groin, brought him even closer to the edge. His hips shuttered, moving wildly until he slammed himself against Steve, curling down and pressing his forehead against Steve’s back as he came. Steve moved one hand down, jerking himself off almost painfully fast. The feeling of spit and cum, warm against his skin, cooling rapidly in the air, was almost too much. Billy moved to pull away but Steve whined, making him stop. “Just-- Stay there.”

“Jesus,” he heard Billy whisper. And like that, Steve came, painting the tree in white stripes of spunk. He cried out, loud where Billy had been quiet, muffling his sounds. Steve was loud, he knew that, but he reached obscene levels as he trembled, orgasm making him nearly black out.

They stayed that way, panting as their sweat rapidly cooled. Billy finally pulled away, hands leaving Steve and he missed the feeling immediately.

God he was so fucked.

Steve didn’t turn around as he caught his breath, shakily using the tree to stand erect. He pulled up his jeans, not bothering to clean up. Wasn’t sure he wanted to admit to himself that he wanted the feeling of cum and spit sticking to his skin, dampening his jeans and underwear, dirty and so fucking hot. When he turned around, Billy had his back to him, the sound of his zippo clicking loud in the wake of what they’d just done.

“Uhm,” Steve began, because, like, where do you go from here?

“We can keep this under wraps,” Billy said, back still to Steve. He let out a cloud of smoke, thicker in the cold air. Steve noticed the tension in his shoulders, in his voice, and he swallowed, wondering if he’d fucked up.

“Yeah,” Steve said, fingers twitching nervously against his thigh. “But uh,” he took a sharp inhale, forcing the words out, “My parents aren’t usually home so, you know, if you ever wanna like, let off some steam--”

“Aw, Harrington,” Billy teased, finally turning around. “You like my dick that much?” Steve wasn’t sure what it was, but something told him he needed to be honest. To tell the truth, or Billy’d run and never look back.

“Yeah,” he replied, honest. Billy’s eyes widened and his mouth went a little slack. But the attraction and want that shone in his eyes let Steve know he’d made the right choice. “Maybe next time you can let me choke on it.”

#anon #prompt #harringrove #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #lemon #intercrural #gross boys being gross boys #dom/sub vibes

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yikesharringrove · 4 years ago

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Me and my thots

Read on ao3

Billy didn’t black out when the first limb clamped onto his side.

He figured he would.

Figured the searing pain would cause his brain to short.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t even drop when the next one hit, chomping into his other side.

He figures the adrenaline was keeping him going.

And probably the other-worldly strength from whatever bits of the creature was left in him.

All he knows is that the final one pierced his chest.

And he didn’t lose consciousness.

Not as he fell.

Not as Max hovered over him.

Not as he heard shouts, and felt hands pressing into his wounds.

He woke with a start.

He shook the dream out of his head, rolling to press both fists into his eyes.

He slid out from under the thick duvet, pulling it up and over the sleeping form of the person next to him.

Like he did every morning.

He scratched his chest, making his way over to their sunny little kitchen, getting the coffee going.

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about the Mind Flayer.

In his thirty years since that night at the mall, he’s gotten enough therapy to break most of it down, to accept what happened to him, what he was forced without question to do.

He startled as arms slipped around his waist.

“You okay?”

Steve’s voice was sleep groggy, his chin hooked over Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy. I’m alright.”

Steve placed his hand over the faded scar on Billy’s chest, kissing his shoulder blade once.

Billy turned to look at him, taking in the sparse grey hairs Steve liked to complain about, the soft lines near his eyes.

Billy sucked in a gasp of air when he woke, spluttering as his lungs burned.

He was in the hospital, his heart monitor going haywire.

Nurses flooded the room, but Billy paid them no mind, his eyes locking on the big brown ones.

Steve had pushed himself against the wall, giving the nurses room to check him over.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the mall, just knows hat Steve’s face looks hurt, old bruises turning yellow and green as they healed.

He was stabilized, and he felt more steady. His breathing still hurt, but he was doing it on his own.

The few nurses made their way out once again.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Scared me half to death.” Steve didn’t sound scared. He sounded relieved. “I was almost asleep and then you took this giant breath, Christ.”

Steve’s hands were shaking as he lowered himself into a plastic chair facing Billy’s bed.

“Sorry.”

Billy’s voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

“How long-?”

“A few weeks.” Then Steve’s face got hurt that same night.

It was odd looking at him.

He looked so young, not the face dream Billy was used to, the face of a grown man.

“Hargrove, you okay?”

And echo of that dream.

And boy did that hurt, the realization that it was a dream.

His idyllic life with Steve.

Nothing but his subconscious. Probably creating something to keep him calm while his body healed in a coma.

“Why you here?” Speaking still burned his throat. He wished he had some water.

Maybe even tea.

Steve usually makes him a nice chamomile tea when he’s sick. Puts some fresh lemon juice and honey in there. They have a lemon tea in the backyard.

He shook himself.

That was just a dream.

“Been worried about you, man.” Steve wasn’t looking at him.

Steve has trouble with eye contact.

Years spent with a father that forced it only to berate Steve for-

What the fuck. His daydream kept bleeding over, giving him all this nonsense about the dream version of Steve he had conjured up.

“Don’t know why.”

Steve looked at him then.

“Really pulled some shit, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you, you deserve to die, or something. You weren’t in control.”

“Was that night I beat your face in.”

Steve looked away again.

“Water under the bridge.”

Steve once told him he doesn’t know what that expression means, just that he’s heard people use it in situations like this.

“You don’t even know what that means.” Billy couldn’t stop himself.

He just blurted it out.

And Steve gave him a funny look.

Because of course he does. Because this Steve, this real Steve is different than the coma fantasy one Billy conjured up.

“Well, no. But people usually say it like that, don’t they?”

And Billy just stared at him.

And then his vision went hazy around the edges, and he slipped back into darkness.

“Which one?”

Steve was holding up two pairs of swim trunks. Billy was just staring at his ass.

“You know I like those little green ones.”

Steve threw him a look over his shoulder.

“I don’t think the green ones even fit anymore.”

Steve sometimes got self conscious about himself. His thighs had thickened up considerably, his ass getting plumper too. And his belly was soft, doughy, and perfect for squishing.

But the green shorts fit, even though they were tight.

And Billy loved his older body, loved when Steve put on some extra fluff. A chubby Steve meant a happy Steve. And Billy would know.

You learn a lot about a person in thirty-some years.

Steve was dressed now, shouldering a bag.

“Beach time?” His eyes were bright.

“Beach time.”

They held hands as they walked.

The air smelled like ocean spray.

The beach was close to their little house, and they found their usual spot right away, far from any other beach patrons.

“Hargrove!”

Billy came to with a start, back in the cold hospital room, back with a younger Steve.

What the fuck was going on?

“Sorry, you kinda passed out. I thought you were slipping back under, or something.”

Steve looked sheepish.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Not totally.

Because Billy wanted to live in that fucking daydream for the rest of his goddamn life.

“Sorry, I should let you sleep. I mean you’re probably exhausted.” Steve stood up, gathering the few things he had with him, a water bottle, and empty coffee cup, and a book. An old worn out copy of The Outsiders.

That’s dream Steve’s favorite book. He reads it once every year. He said it was the first book he ever read in class that actually gripped him. The only one he actually took the time to push through his rampant dyslexia to read and understand.

He won’t be diagnosed dyslexic until he’s 23. He’ll feel really vindicated and Billy will take him out for a fancy dinner. They’ll go skinny dipping in the ocean after and Steve will whine the whole time.

Billy hadn’t realized he had been staring at Steve the whole time that all ran through his brain, not until Steve snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Billy!”

“Yeah, what? Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

“No, I just-” he tried to scrub a hand down his face, found his muscles screamed out at the movement of his muscles after who knows how long in that bed.

It didn’t matter anyway, as his hands were wrapped up in a mitten of bandages.

“Was havin’ a good dream.”

“What was it about?”

Billy couldn’t look at Steve. Couldn’t look at those big brown eyes, couldn’t search for the specks of gold, the streaks of green that he knows are there.

“Future. Dream future, I guess.”

“Do you-” Steve hesitated, and Billy finally looked at him, watched as he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid. “Do you wanna share?”

“California. Little house by the beach. Slice of Heaven, really.”

“A wife?”

“Been married for a few years.”

“She pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Steve smiled at him softly.

“Sorry you had to wake up to me, then.”

And that? That made Billy wanna tear out his own damn hair. Made him wanna pull Steve to lay on top of him the way they both like, pet through Steve’s hair, tell him how goddamn perfect you are, Sugar.

“It’s okay. Prefer your company.”

“I guess I’m alright if the alternative is being alone.”

“Cut that out.”

Steve blinked at him.

“We’ve been talking like, five minutes and all you’ve done is apologize and talk shit on yourself.”

“Sorry, I- it’s just a habit, I guess.” He was back to playing with his hair. Being a little rougher, tugging on the lock between his fingers a bit. Billy sighed as well as he could with his burning lungs.

“Just, I like it that you’re here, okay? I’d tell you to beat it if I wanted you gone.”

And Steve smiled at him.

One of his six real smiles, not one of the eleven fake ones.

Billy can tell.

Because the real ones make his nose scrunch a bit. They make his eyes go bright and his shoulders bunch up.

And he must’ve fallen back into that dream again, because suddenly he was looking at his Steve, his grown up Steve, giving him that exact same real smile as Billy ran wet fingers over his skin.

And he pulled Steve close to him in the shower, mouthing at the skin of his neck.

And if this was a dream, he was going to burn all of this into his memory.

The way Steve’s skin tastes, the way he gasps when Billy nibbles at his ear. The way Billy feels buried deep inside him, in the soft bed that they share, the one that took months to buy because Steve is weirdly picky about bedframes for no discernible reason.

And just as he was watching Steve’s face crumple, as he was trying to memorize the exact noises he makes as he cums, he was jolted out of his dream by the real Steve, fucking sneezing.

“Sorry.” He looked distressed. “You were like, really asleep and I, I tried to hold it back.”

“’S okay. Know you got that dust thing.”

Billy was drowsy. He felt like he was inches underwater, everything moving slowly around him. Almost like the world was a little muffled.

Turns out his last dose of pain meds had been administered while he was out.

“Wait, what dust thing?”

“Got that. You know. You’re allergic to dust. And peanuts. And cashews. And-the green ones.”

“Pistachios?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me. Nearly fuckin’ killed you first time we really made out. I had just eaten a PB and J. Sent you into anaphylaxis.”

Billy felt himself drifting, that perfect dreamland tugging him back.

And then there was a cold hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“Billy, Billy don’t fall asleep. You gotta, Billy what the fuck? We haven’t made out. We, how do you know what I’m allergic to?”

But Billy was swallowed up by sleep once again.

He was laying next to Steve, stretched out on their bed, Steve’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Today was nice. Haven’t had a day like that in such a long time.”

“We should do it more often, then. Call outta work and hang out at the beach all day.”

Steve rolled a bit to glare playfully at Billy.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of setting our own hours, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Billy!”

And he was back, back to staring at the pale nervous face of Young Steve.

“Billy, you’re scaring me.”

Sunlight was beginning to haze through the meager window at the end of the hospital room. Billy hadn’t had any idea of time since he got here.

Steve looked like shit, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Billy, I don’t know if you remember, everything you said before you fell asleep but-”

“I remember.”

Steve furrowed his brows.

“How do you know that? About, about my allergies. And yesterday, you said, you said I didn’t know what water under the bridge meant. And you said, that we m-made out.”

Billy sighed again, his lungs protesting the effort.

“My dream. The future. You’re the person. My person. And now it’s like, whatever Dream Billy knows about Dream Steve I know. And I figured I just, like, made all that shit up.”

Steve was studying his face.

“Okay, then let’s see if you’ve just had some lucky guesses. Tell me what else you know, and maybe it’s all wrong.”

And Billy didn’t really like the way Steve looked like he hoped is was all wrong. Like he didn’t wanna be tied to Billy in this way.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

“When you were fourteen you watched A Streetcar Named Desire with your mom and you credit Marlon Brando as your queer awakening.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, his mouth trembling.

“Your dad has smacked you once in your life, and it’s when you got the rejection letter from Indiana State. You hid the letter from him because you knew he’d be mad, but he found it and hit you and didn’t talk to you for nearly a month.”

Steve’s eyes were shining now.

“Your mom used to always talk about how much she wished you guys could have a better garden, but because it gets so cold here, she can’t grow anything. The house we have in the daydream has like, a huge fucking garden in it, by the way. I hate gardening but you love it.”

Steve stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room in front of Billy’s bed. Billy just kept going.

It was like everything was ready to burst out of him. To prove that he knows Steve, that he loves Steve. Even if this Steve is somehow different to Dream Steve.

“You go fucking batshit over corn on the cob, just with a little butter and salt on there. That’s somehow your favorite food. Because you’re the most Midwesterner to ever Midwestern, I guess. Your second favorite food is your grandmother’s lasagna. You keep trying to recreate her recipe and no matter how much I tell you it’s fucking delicious, you always get this little pout going and explain to me about how it’s not quite right. You only started smoking because-”

“That’s, I think that’s enough.”

Steve looked like a strong gust of wind would knock him right over.

“It true.?”

“It’s, it’s all true. In, in detail. I mean the, the letter, and my dad. I swore I was never gonna tell anyone about that.”

“It took you a few years. We were talking about my dad. How he treated me, and you admitted that. How sometimes you think about that one time and it makes you sad because that was my everyday-” Billy cut himself off.

Because fuck.

He forgot that Steve knows jack fucking all about Billy.

Which means Steve was currently giving him that look, that wide-eyed, nostrils flared, mouth tight look that he always did when he was angry on Billy’s behalf.

It was kinda hot.

“Excuse me?”

“Forgot my apparent psychic abilities were limited to just me knowing about you.”

“Billy, did your dad hit you?”

And Billy kinda saw no point in lying anymore.

“All the damn time.”

And Steve was back to pacing.

“Fuck. Fuck. That honestly, wow that explains a lot. I mean, yeah. I get it now. I get it.”

Billy let him mutter to himself.

Steve always does better thinking out loud.

“You know, I was actually fucking nervous to tell you, but now I don’t care. Your dad was one of the flayed.”

“Yeah, I know. Only person I never felt guilty about.”

“You’re handling this, like, scary well.”

“Technically, I’ve had thirty years of therapy. All this has been processed already.”

“Wait, your little dream is thirty years in the future?”

“About.”

“So we’re, like, fifty?”

“About.”

“How do I look?”

Billy barked a laugh, regretting it almost immediately as his whole body screamed in protest. He wheezed a few times before he felt like he could speak again.

“I think you’re hot, but you don’t handle aging well.”

“Oh, God. What’s the damage?”

“Not telling. You’re just gonna spend the next thirty years stressing more than you already would. But lemme tell you, first time you found a grey hair? That was the funniest day of my damn life. It was like being in a soap opera. You found it and then called our lawyer to begin drawing up a will. And you kept saying how you probably only have a few god years left in you. It was hilarious.”

“Glad to know you laugh at my pain.”

“It’s one grey hair. Plus you maintain good health, don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time to whine over grey hairs.”

“At least I don’t go bald.”

“Nah. Full head of natural hair. Not even receding.”

Steve brushed a hand through his hair, dropping heavily back into the seat next to Billy’s bed.

“Man, this is too trippy. Like, from my end, we’re not even close, you know? But to you, we’ve been together for decades. That’s fucking wild.”

“Imagine how I feel. Am I some kind of psychic now, or is this all just fucking delusion?”

“I mean, you know too much shit about me for everything to be, like, a figment of your imagination. But what happens now? Like, if we don’t live out the future just like your daydream, is the world gonna fall apart? Or is that an alternate dimension? Like, if the Upside Down exists, there’s gotta be other worlds too. Is that one of them and maybe because you were infected by the Mind Flayer you have like, a link between both worlds?” Steve’s brows were furrowed, his eyes darting all over the ceiling as he thought out loud. “And, I mean, I’m confused. I don’t know what my feelings towards you are. Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s been interest since you showed up. But now you’re telling me in some reality, we’ve been together for thirty years, and obviously you know all this deep shit about me, so do we date? When you know me like the back of your hand and I barely know you at all? And are you technically fifty years old? Since you lived out that other life?”

Billy’s head was starting to hurt, and he felt tired again.

“Sugar, you think we could table this?”

Steve’s cheeks went red as his jaw clacked shut.

“Is that what you call me? Sugar?”

“Call you a lot ‘a stuff.”

“Uh, like, like what?”

“Sugar, Pretty Boy, Stevie, Baby, Sweet Thing, Honey. Mac n’ Steve comes to mind.” Steve smiled softly at the last one, his cheeks still warm. “Princess.” Steve opened his mouth, his brows furrowing, the blush spreading down his neck. “No sense in denying how much you like them. Those are tried and true. Thirty years of calling you all that. Plus a few others. But, you know. Those are mostly reserved for the bedroom.”

Steve’s eyes went huge again.

“Fuck. You probably know what I kinks I have better than I do.”

“Oh, we’ve done some exploring in our time.”

Steve bent forward to bury his face in his hands with an Oh, God.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Trust me when I say, you enjoy most of it.”

“Oh, most. That’s great.”

“There’s some trial and error. But we’re good at laughing stuff off, you and me.”

And then Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sat up straight in his chair.

“Wait, you said. When I first asked about the dream, you said, you said married. We got-I mean, we can get married?”

“Yeah. And we like, make out in public and shit. Hold hands everywhere. We’re big saps.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

“So things get, they get better? For people like us?”

“Yeah, they do,” Billy kept his voice soft, felt like sharing this thread of hope should be kept intimate, quiet. And Steve’s face split into a wide grin.

“God, I can’t fucking wait. Just to be, not to be scared all the time. Of everyone finding out this big fucking secret. It just, is.” Steve huffed a laugh. “Can’t believe it. Two guys getting married. Was our wedding nice?”

“We had two. One in the courthouse, one with everybody.”

“Wow. I just can’t believe it-wait, who;s everybody?”

“Your gang of weirdos. Here.”

And Steve lips parted, and he made that cute little face he always does before he cries.

“They all come? Dustin and the Byers and everyone?”

“Robin officiates. Dustin cries really fuckin’ loudly.”

“And they’re all, they’re all fine with it?”

“Yep.”

“God. It’s all, you think it’s too good to be true?”

“Everything I know about you was right. Don’t see a reason why everything else would be wrong.”

“Then, where do we go from here? Like, do we try to follow your memories? Or, forge our own path? Will the fact that we know about this future automatically change it?”

Billy’s heart was doing something funny as Steve wondered aloud to himself about all this.

The fact that he was all in, dead set on having this happy future with Billy, when he didn’t even know Billy.

“Are you sure about this? If we do this? Or some form of it. I mean, I know fucking everything about you. And you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you well enough to see the good in you. I know you well enough to see that under all your big scary toughness you’re caring. And you’re kind. Although you’d probably rather be dead than admit it. And besides. If, in another reality, or in the future, or whatever, I pick you to spend my life with, obviously that means there’s something in you that makes me love you.”

Billy gawked at him.

His face was hot, no doubt bright fucking red.

Because, holy shit was that a lot.

And even Billy, used to Steve’s passionate little tangents after thirty dream-years worth, was taken aback by how quickly Steve was ready to jump into this.

And all of a sudden, Billy wanted nothing more than to reach out to Steve, to pull him close and kiss him until he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Harrington, I’m gonna need you to come kiss me right the fuck now.”

And Steve smiled, his most sunshiney happy smile, and the chair legs scraped along the tiled floor as he got up, sitting carefully on the edge of Billy’s bed.

He leaned over him, cupping Billy’s cheek in his hand, and pressing the softest of sugar kisses to his lips.

Billy let his eyes flutter closed, and he put one hand bandaged on Steve’s lap, wanting to grasp at him, to pull him even closer.

But Steve wrapped his other hand as gently as possible around the thick bandages, pulling away slowly, studying Billy’s face.

“I never asked. Is this always how our first kiss went?”

And Billy tried to search his memory, tried to find the sweet first kiss.”

“I-I don’t remember.”

Steve sat back.

“What?”

“Our first kiss, from the memories. I don’t remember. It’s like, when I think of our first kiss, all I can think of is that one just now. The other one is gone.”

An ache settled in Billy’s chest at the prospect, at losing a perfect memory with Steve. Losing their first kiss.

“So, when we do something, it like, replaces the old memory?”

“I guess.”

“So, we can build new ones then. And like, you won’t have to go through your whole life twice. We can start closer to square one. Memories that’ll be ours, and not ones that I don’t know.”

And that’s true.

For the pain of every memory gone is a brand new one, one that Steve would remember and be a part of too.

“Then I’m not telling you anymore. If we’re gonna build the memories together, we can’t be working off of some, some blueprint. Things need to be ours.”

“Agreed. We’ll make it up as we go.” Steve hadn’t stopped smiling at Billy.

“Is it weird I’m gonna kinda miss seeing you all old? You’re a silver fucking fox.”

“Yes, Bill. That’s fucking weird.” Steve took his hand and pressed a kiss on his bandages, right over where his palm will be. “Just means you’ll have to watch me go through it all again, though.”

“God, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Yeah? That get you going? The thought of me aging?”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. The thought of us aging together.”

“Wow. When you said we’re saps, you really meant it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, sighing as deeply as he could.

“Can it, Harrington. Or I’ll call the nurse and have you escorted out by security.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.” Steve pressed another kiss to his bandaged hand before sliding off the hospital bed, sitting back in this chair, scooting it as close as possible to the bed. He rested his elbows on the edge of Billy’s bed, and set his chin in his hands. “So, California, huh? When do we head out there?”

“Remember, like, twenty seconds ago when I said I wasn’t gonna say any more?”

Steve pushed his bottom lip out, making his eyes go big as he pouted at Billy.

“That doesn’t work on me anymore, Baby.” That was absolutely a lie. It worked on Billy nearly every time. But what’s he gonna do, reveal his weakness to Steve? Absolutely fucking not.

“C’mon, Bill. Just like, the year.”

“Nope. Not saying a damn thing.”

“Please?” Steve pouted some more.

“So odd to hear you begging outside of the bedroom.” Billy grinned with his tongue between his teeth as Steve dropped his little pouty face, his cheeks going red. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Sailing right past pleading and into petulant.

“Fine. I’ll just rot here until you decide to whisk me away to California. Better make it soon or else I may just die of boredom.”

“Jesus, so fucking dramatic. Didn’t we say we’re gonna make our own memories and shit? You can very well ask me to run away with you.”

“Maybe we should like, go on a date first. So I know you’re not a serial killer before I get in a car with you and drive out of state.”

“You’re so weird.” Steve made a snarky face at him. “But you better be planning our first date. I don’t wanna accidentally repeat the other one. Want us to have our own.”

And Billy felt that overwhelming sense of sadness at losing the memories of the other date, the perfect timid experience. Going to the diner and ordering to go, eating while sitting on the hood of Steve’s car overlooking the quarry, talking for hours and hours.

But he’ll get a new memory. One he’ll cherish just as much, maybe even more, knowing that Steve will cherish the memory too.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take out. Maybe just metaphorically speaking, as I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going out.”

��Ha ha, Shithead. Just make it nice. You’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he sighed dramatically.

“If our whole relationship is just you holding me to the impossibly high standard of alternate reality me, then I want out now.”

“Relax. The standard’s not that high.”

Steve made an indignant squawking sound.

Billy just laughed.

“I’m kidding. Just, you know. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble meeting the standard. I fell for you once. I can do it again.”

And Steve’s face went all soft again, and he curled forward to rest his head on Billy’s arm.

“Thirty years. Always thought I’d end up divorced. People tend to get sick of me.”

“Not me. Never got sick of you, never gonna get sick of you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Then you’re stuck with me too.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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metalheadcowboy · 4 years ago

Text

The dreams started as any other teenage boys might. Hot and heavy.

They were the kind of dreams that had you waking up covered in a layer of sticky, uncomfortable sweat. The kind of dreams that had you shoving your hand down your pants in a hurry to get off and continue your sleep, only to wake up the next morning and think about it all through out the day until sleep fell upon you again.

For Billy these dreams weren’t uncommon to begin with, but when he arrived in Hawkins they seemed to get a little more... frequent. Multiple times a week he would find himself dreaming about obscene things, things he didn’t even know he thought about until he dreamed about them. Things like getting pinned down against his own bed and being called degrading names until he was on the verge of coming, only to be left hanging. Things like having his cheek smooshed into the cold, brick wall of one of the, sometimes not so, vacant bathrooms in Hawkins High, being fucked rough and dirty until he was on the verge of tears. Things like- well, lets just say there were a lot of things.

But the concept wasn’t what made dread hang over his head the next day. Wasn’t what made his dick twitch in guilty excitement at the sight of one particular peer. Wasn’t what had him furiously thrusting into his fist under the bleachers after practice, wishing he never moved to this stupid town.

Because it wasn’t about what, it was about who. Steve Harrington, the subject of his darkest nightmares and of his sweetest dreams. He couldn’t take one look at the brown headed boy without being reminded of what he had been chocking on the night before in his dreams. It made him angry, aggressive. It made him anything to hide the intense horniness he felt whenever the guy walked into the room.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. Hell, those dreams might as well have been a piece of fucking cake compared to the ones that followed. Slowly, the dreams of being held down and taken like a bitch in heat morphed into much more light hearted, fluffy dreams of soft skin and warm touches. Dreams of gentle kisses and being held safely in Steve’s arms. These were the dreams that had him waking up feeling like he was going to throw up a lung.

Wet dreams he could handle, but dreams of longing looks and tender embraces? Nope.

He almost wanted the wet dreams to return, voluntarily thought about it at night before he drifted off to sleep. And maybe to other people they would have preferred the latter, but not him, never him. He wasn’t the ‘loving’ type if that wasn’t already clear enough to everyone around him.

He told himself that it wasn’t Steve and that it was just his body craving for affection. But then Steve was out for a week with the flu and he was fucked.

Basketball just didn’t feel the same, neither did English with Steve in his nerdy, round reading glasses that framed his face him right. The dreams only seemed to get more intense in that fatal week. Dreams filled with hushed laughter and forehead kisses with fuzzy sweaters and- he had to come clean.

It was Friday and Steve still wasn’t back, he couldn’t take it any more. The second the last bell rang he sprinted out of the building, sure he looked suspicious as hell, but he couldn’t take one more night of these dreams He felt like his brain was going to rot.

He practically peeled out of the parking lot, going twenty over to make it to Steve’s as soon as possible.

When he made it there he didn’t even bother turning off the car, just slamming the drivers door and speed walking up the pathway to the Harrington residence.

He rang the door bell twice, gave a knock, and another, and another, and a-

‘coming hold on!’

It was Steve, soft than he’d ever heard him before, almost weak and he hated how his heart responded with a dull ache.

As soon as the door opened to reveal a sickly Steve clad in pajama pants, a sweat shirt, and the warmest socks he’d ever seen holding a tissue box in one hand, the door with the other he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Billy, what are you-”

Smack

Their lips clashed together in a rushed show of emotions, and yeah, he was fucked, but maybe he didn’t so much mind it anymore.

#emotions eeee #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Harringrove #Stranger things #lemon?#kinda in the beginning #but also fluff #lemon #fluff

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weasleysprincess · 4 years ago

Text

New Flame

A/n: This is my first Bill x reader, still trying to get Bill right also I’m wanting for this to be a series. Bill don’t get much love and I wanted give him some more :) I did write this as Fem!reader, I can do gender neutral readers for other people, I’m used to writing as a female since I’m a female. Also Gryffindor reader! I might change the series’ name not sure how I feel about this one

Summary: You’re best friends with the twins and go to the quidditch world cup with the family before your 7th year. A certain older Weasley finally sees your fancy to him.

I was excited when the Weasley’s owl dropped off a letter from Fred asking me if I could join him and his family to the quidditch world cup. Quidditch wasn’t my favorite thing, I’ve been supporting the Weasley’s in quidditch since Charlie played. I packed my bags for the game and school, Molly said I could leave my school things in Percy’s room. The Burrow came into sight finally. “Wow, you grew up fast”, I heard a voice say, I turned around to see a long haired ginger. “Bill”, I smiled. “Y/n, you’re here! Hi sweetheart”, Molly smiled, walking to me with her arms opened. “Hi Molly, thank you for letting me stay”, I said. “Oh nonsense, you’re family dear”, Molly smiled. “Fred! George! Come take Y/n’s things to Ginny and Percy’s room” I heard running and pushing “Oh no”, I said as I prepared myself for the impact of the twins. “What?”, Bill asked as George picked up as Fred and him engulfed me into their grip. They had grown a lot since the first of June, somehow Fred got me in his arms. “Miss me that much, Freddie?”, I asked as he held me longer. He nodded. “Alright put the girl down, Frederick”, Bill said. “Owahh. You’re no fun at all”, Fred whined as he sat me down. “Thank you”, I said as the boys took my bags. “No problem, Y/n”, Bill smiled. “How’s Egypt?” “Good actually, but it’s good to be home for once”, Bill said. I smiled. “Heard you made prefect?”, Bill asked. “I did, who told?”, I asked. “Ginny, odd actually. I expected Fred to spill it. Congratulations, Y/n” “Thanks Bill”, I grinned.

“Y/n”, Ginny jumped the last step and landed in my chest. “Omph. Hi Gin, I missed you too”, I hugged the ginger girl back. The young girl squeezed me, “Ginny, can’t breathe”, I whined. “I’m sorry I just missed you is all”, She mumbled in my chest. “Ginny! Why is my broom in your room?”, Ron yelled. Ginny looked at me and then Bill, before running away from the older ginger. “Is she like this in school?”, Bill asked. “I might have a soft spot for your sister”, I giggled. “Y/n”, He shook his head. “I understand, her puppy dog eyes still have an effect on me too”, Bill smiled, laid his hand on my shoulder before stalking upstairs. Bill made fire run up my body and core when he laid his hand on me. I watched him disappear up the stairs, “Hey you okay?”, Fred asked. “Yeah. when did you get down here?”, I asked. “Just as Bill walked up and I saw you watching him. What’s up with that huh?”, Fred asked, turning the water tap on to fill his glass. “Nothing is up, Bill and I have talked before, Frederick”, I scoffed. “I don’t think you’ve had heart eyes at him”, Fred laughed. “I do not! Stop being a pest!”, I sighed, throwing my head back. I walked in the twins’ room and jumped face first into George’s bed. “May I help you, doll?”, George asked from the desk. “Just want to die right now is all, Georgie”, I said in the blanket. “I’m sorry?”, George asked again. I raised up, “Just Fred being nosey is all, he thinks I have a thing for Bill” “Do you? Hey that means you would be an actually Weasley, if you got married”, George smiled getting excited.

“Not you too, Georgie!’, I whined. “I’m sorry, would you rather marry Fred or me instead?”, George asked. “Knock it off, I would kill Fred before we even got in bed together”, I rolled my eyes. “So you wouldn’t kill me and I could get you into bed is what you’re saying?”, George smirked. “Not exactly but you and Charlie have a better chance than Fredrick does”, I giggled. “I’ll be waiting, Princess”, George smiled. “Hey don’t tell Fred, he’ll start something and I don’t feel like dealing with him”, I asked while holding George’s hand. “Sure, anything for you, Princess”, George kissed my temple. “Hey lovebirds, dinner”, Bill said, turning around leaving. I jumped back a little. “Come on, if you don’t get there before Ron you won’t get the good stuff”, George said. We got down there, Arthur was at the head of the table, Fred and George were together. Hermoine and Harry arrived, leaving me to be next to Bill and Ron. “Y/n, dear there’s place next to William”, Molly smiled, pulling dinner from the oven. “Thanks”, I muttered. “Hi again”, Bill smiled. “Hi Bill”, I sat down. “Y/n, Hermoine and I are having girls’ night. We want you there, please”, Ginny smiled. “Save me a spot, Gin”, I returned the smile. Everyone was having a conversation with each other, I was just finishing my food and just moving my fork through the peas and chicken bones. I heard the twins to be excused and Ginny followed. Ginny loved the twins and especially if they let her tagalog to whatever. The trio stood up, Hermoine leaned to me, “Come to Ginny’s room after you get ready for bed” “Thank you, mione”, I smiled. It was Molly, Arthur, Bill and I left. “Did I tell you Charlie would be coming back home, Bill?”, Molly asked. “No, mum you didn’t. He’s married isn’t he?”, Bill sat up, knocking his knee into my thigh. “Heaven’s no, I wish. Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard tournament this year. One of the tasks has dragons, Charlie offered to supply them”, Molly said. I smiled at the thought of the other older Weasley. He was like my best friend when I started Hogwarts, he always looked after me and walked me to classes.

“Y/n, did you bring a dress this year?”, Molly asked. “It’s getting tailored, Mum’s sending it after my aunt finishes it”, I replied. “Your muggle aunt?”, Arthur asked. “No, my great aunt Sophia. She lives in Italy”, I said. Arthur knew some of my extended family were half bloods, and would ask me about their muggle things. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mols”, Arthur stood from his chair. He kissed her cheek. “You’re welcome dear”, She smiled. “Mum, you and dad go relax. I’ll clean up tonight”, Bill smiled. “Oh thank you, baby. You’re too sweet”, She smiled, holding his cheek. Bill grabbed the plates, stacking them up. “Care for an extra hand?”, I asked, getting the cups. “No at all, love”, Bill said walking to the sink. I blushed at the nickname. The twins barreled in the burrow, one of them was carrying Ginny on their shoulders. “Don’t drop her and be quiet. Mum and Dad are relaxing!”, Bill raised his voice. “Oh so you and Y/nn decided to play house? How cute”, Fred chuckled. Bill blushed, “Get upstairs” “Sure thing, loverboy. Night Y/n! Oh and Gin’s room is the last one on left”, Fred smirked. “Go!”, I mouthed. “Night Bill, glad you’re back. Night Y/n”, George smiled at his oldest brother. “Night George, missed you too”, Bill grinned. “Night Billy”, Ginny hugged his torso. “Night Ginny” “You better be upstairs before 8:30”, She looked at me, wiggling her eyebrows where Bill couldn’t see her. “Yes mother”, I giggled. “I wouldn’t break that curfew if I was you, love”, Bill had a shit eating grin. “Worry about your own ass, Weasley”, I smirked, wiping the table down.

“Ginny open up!”, Bill said in front of me. “What do you want, William?”, She huffed. “Geez Ginvera! Chill, I’m just delivering your guest of honor”, Bill said pulling me in front of him. “He insisted on this”, I giggled. “Okay, have fun, don’t stay up too late. Uh, if you wanna do someone’s make up go to the twins’ room. Goodnight ladies' ', Bill smiled, patting my head before leaving to his room. “Brothers'', Ginny rolled her eyes. “He’s not too bad, Gin”, I said, unzipping my suitcase. “Whatever, says the one who has had heart eyes all day at Bill'', Ginny shot back. “As if you weren’t doing the same at Potter'', I scoffed. “Lets not fight before the night has began”, Hermoine said. Ginny and I looked at each other before smiling, “Hermoine and Ron sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Muuhh muuhh!” “Shut up!”, Hermoine rolled her eyes. I high waved Ginny, “Hey 10 galleons on them remember?” “I have it, don’t worry”, Ginny smirked.

Next morning, Molly announced her and Arthur were going to town to get stuff for the world cup. Leaving Bill in charge, the twins suggested a quidditch match in the field. Ron and Harry were happy at the suggestion. We all went outside, “You not playing?”, Bill asked. “No, I prefer watching this game instead”, I said, trying not to blush. “Granger?”, He asked Hermoine. “No, thank you Bill” “Okay. Boys! Ginny!”, Bill stalked off to the kids. I watched his back side, tight jeans carved his thighs out nicely, t-shirt that was too tight on his biceps, Godric that long fiery hair that was now put up in a bun. “When did he pierce his ear?”, I asked. “Who?”, Moine asked. “I said that out loud?”, I blushed. Hermoine nodded. “Bill, he has an earring in his ear now”, I said. “Better watch it, Potter!”, Fred laughed above us. The game ended, everyone was hungry. Bill was slowly walking to the burrow. “What did you do to him?”, I asked. “He just can’t keep up anymore”, Ron snickered. “You guys go ahead. Hey Bill you okay?”, I asked the tall red. “Oh yeah, just haven’t played in years and forgot how intense Weasleys play”, Bill said. “Sure that’s the reason”, I smirked, walking behind the twins again. “If you’re implying I’m too old, I’m not okay? 24 isn’t old, Y/n”, Bill yelled as we got into the burrow. “You’re out of shape too, William!”, Fred yelled back to the field. “Shut up!”, we heard Bill yell back. “Maybe you can perk him up, Y/n”, Fred winked.

It was time for us to meet Arthur’s friend from work, we had ate breakfast and got hugged goodbye by Molly. George had me on his back as we walked with his father, “You like Bill?”, he asked. “Yeah, Bill’s cool”, I replied back, running my hand through his locks. “When did he get an earring?”, I asked. “Sometime after, he got to Egypt. Bunk buddy did it for him”, George said. “Mhmm! Okay put me down, please”, I said. “Enjoy your ride, Princess?”, Bill smirked. “I did for your information, George is a smooth rider”, I said. “Amos!” “Arthur! This must be your kids.” Amos Diggory asked. “Yes, and their friends”, Arthur smiled. “This young lad must be Cedric”, Arthur asked as my ex hopped from the tree. “Fuck me”, I groaned. “What’s wrong?”, Bill asked, squeezing my hand. “Cedric is my cheating ex, we broke up last spring”, I said looking down. “I’m sorry Y/n. You can hang with me, I’ll look after you”, Bill said. “Thanks, Bill. I’d love that”, I smiled at him. “Bill! Y/n! Come on”, George yelled. We finally got to the camp where the cup was being held. Cedric and Amos went to their tent. “Y/n, I didn’t know he was coming too. I’m sorry”, Fred said. “Fred, it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, okay? He’s the one who ruined it not you”, I gave him a smile. “I still feel bad”, Fred ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t be! Enjoy the game before we have to go back to school, okay”, I stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. Before we left to meet the Diggorys again. “Y/n, can I talk to you for a moment? Kids wait outside, please”, Arthur said. “Yes Arthur?”, I asked. “The twins told about your unfortunate incident with Amos’ boy last spring. I didn’t know you weren’t together anymore, my apologies for not telling you at home”, Arthur said, holding my hand in a fatherly way. “It’s okay, Arthur really. We’re prefects, we’re eventually gonna have to talk much as I hate the idea of it. Besides Bill promised to look out for me”, I squeezed his hand. Arthur smiled, “That’s my boy”

I was holding Bill’s forearm to keep up with him and the crowd, “Hi Y/n, how are you?” Cedric asked. “Hi Diggory, I’m fine. Thanks for asking”, I gave a fake smile. Cedric nodded and went back to walking. “Stupid git”, I muttered as Bill walked again. We finally got to our seats and everyone was amazed at the view. Lucius and Draco Malfoy stood below us, being stuck up as ever. Draco looked up at me and smirked. He had a crush on me even though I’m a Gryffindor. “I hate Malfoy so much”, Ron rolled his eyes. His siblings agreed in silence. The game ended, Ireland won and the Weasleys were happy about it. Even Bill celebrated spinning Ginny around the tent. I was in a corner, I had a bad feeling something was gonna happen soon. “Hey what’s wrong?”, Bill asked. “Just got a bad feeling about something, Bill”, I said. Bill grabbed my arms, pulling me into a hug, “Stop worrying, if something does happen I’ll protect you” “You promise, Weasley?”, I smirked in his chest. “I do”, Bill said. “Victor I love youuu”, The twins and Harry started singing to Ron. Bill watched his father stop for a second. “The Irish certainly have their groove on”, Fred smirked. “It’s not the Irish, stop it! Stop it!”, Arthur raised his voice. I heard screaming and hexes being thrown around. “Everyone get somewhere safe! Fred, George Ginny’s your responsible now”, Arthur said as we got out of the tent.

Bill had me on his side as we looked around, seeing fire and people running. “Where did the twins go with Ginny?”, Bill asked. “I don’t know” “Shit! We gotta get back home now, it’s a death eater attack”, Bill picked me up and apperated us home. The twins and Ginny made it home before us. “Y/n, you okay? Guess that was your bad feeling”, Bill tucked my head from his shoulder. “Yeah guess so. Um, can you put me down now?” I asked the tall red head. We walked in, “Thank Godric, you two are okay?”, Molly looked up from Ginny’s shoulder. She pulled Bill into a tight hug, the best she could do with her son being over 6ft. She held his face and smiled. It was late and I was still up. Tomorrow would be my last year at Hogwarts and then I would be off to healer school. Ginny had finally fallen asleep in Hermoine’s arms. I looked over at the sleeping pair, “Thank god, they’re okay”, I whispered before getting out of bed. I walked downstairs to get a drink. Someone was bent over in the fridge. “Can’t sleep either?”, I asked whoever. “Y/n. Uh no not really”, Bill stood tall again. I sat down at the table and rubbed my hand over my face. “What’s eating at you?” Bill asked. “Just everything, Bill. It’s my last year before I go to be a healer. I feel like I haven’t enjoyed life much as I should have” “Y/n, you’re 18. You don’t need to know life’s answers just yet, go live your life even as a healer”, Bill sat next to me. I looked at him for a few minutes, “Don’t want life’s answers at any point of life” Bill nodded as he understood.

“Y/n, how did you find out about Cedric?”, Bill asked. “Uh, he wasn’t as loving anymore. It was two weeks before I confronted him about cheating. He told me he was going to the library to study with one of his friends, it got late and he promised we would walk around. Damn! Uh anyways, I went looking for him, there was you know those sounds. I was gonna go back to my dorm, but something told me to go see who it was.”,I felt tears on my cheeks. “Y/n you don’t have to tell me anymore”, Bill rubbed his thumbs on my face to catch the tears. “You’re the first one, I’ve actually told the whole truth about him. Let me finish. He didn’t see me, but she did, it was some random ravenclaw, she might be in the twins’ year. Cedric was too busy fucking her to notice her smiling at me, I didn’t ask him about for a week. I got him to cuddle one night in my dorm, I had my head on his chest and asked him who she was and how long he had been cheating. Of course, he broke down and told me. He told me I didn’t make him happy anymore, thought I was too close with Fred. The crazy thing he somehow blamed Fred for him cheating”, I laughed at the last part. “I’m sorry, Y/n. You didn’t deserve that, dirty fucking dog”, Bill clenched his jaw. “If it makes you feel any better the twins pranked him before we left for the summer”, I ran my finger down his jaw. Bill was still quiet, letting me crease his face. “Y/n, can I tell you something? I understand if you think it’s weird”, Bill asked. I nodded, “I don’t know what started it, but I think I love you. Which is crazy because you’re younger than me. Just something about your long soft hair, your gorgeous face and body. I’m sorry, I-” I cut Bill off by kissing him. I held his face with one hand and ran the other through his hair. “Bill, I feel the same way and believe me, I felt weird too about it but fuck it. I like you too”, I kissed the side of his lips. Bill grinned, “I’m too old for you, love. I have my career already, you haven’t even graduated Hogwarts for Merlin’s sake” “Six years between us so what? My grandparents were eight years apart and they loved each other until she passed away a couple years ago.”I said, Bill was looking at me. “Okay, fine! I’ll go back to bed until the morning and we’ll forget we kissed and all. Sorry for making you uncomfortable”, I stood up, but Bill caught my wrist.

“Would it bother you going out someone my age?”, Bill asked, rubbing my wrist. I shook my head, “Give it some time and I’ll be good” Bill nodded, standing up, pulling by my waist into his arms. I held his shoulder and peck for stability. “Y/n, want to be my girlfriend?”, Bill asked sweetly. “More than you know, Weasley”, I smiled in his arms. “May I kiss you?”, Bill asked, moving a piece of hair out of my face. “Please do”, I said. Bill leaned down, slightly picking me up and kissed me. I have had a few partners but nobody made me feel how Bill Weasley does while kissing me. My body got hot all over again, I craved more of him. I deepened the kiss, running my hands in his hair. We pulled away, needing oxygen in our lungs again. Bill rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip, smiling at me. “You’re so beautiful, love” I smiled and blushed, I was gonna say thank you but I was too embarrassed. Bill knew what I wanted to say, “Come on, it’s late. 9am comes early”, Bill said, guiding me up the stairs with a hand on my waist. We got to the level where Ginny, Ron and the twins’ room were on, I stopped for a minute. “What’s the matter?’, Bill asked softly, standing near Ginny’s door. “Kiss me goodnight please?”, I asked shyly. Y/n! Get it together, you already kissed him twice tonight! Bill’s smile broke me from my thoughts. “Well, I can’t kiss you from there. C’mere, Princess”, Bill grinned, doing come hither with his fingers. I possessed as I stood on my tiptoes to capture the oldest Weasley’s lips.

I woke up with Hermoine standing over my body with a scolding face, “Good morning, Moine”, I rolled over to my back. “Where did you go at 2 am?”, Hermoine clasped her necklace. “Couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs for a while. Is that such a crime?”, I finally got up. “I heard someone else with you when you finally came back”, Hermoine watched my every move. “I ran into George, okay? He was telling me about a prank they want to do this year”, I said, throwing some clothes on. Hermoine looked at me but decided to drop it. I straightened my black crop top shirt of Guns N Roses and buttoned my black jeans before heading down. I threw on a maroon cardigan and laced my boots, fixed my hair and bangs. “Morning Y/n”, Molly smiled. “Morning, smells wonderful”, I grinned at her again. I could feel Hermoine eyes and a different pair on my back. George yawned and ruffled my hair before sitting down with Ron. I was left to sit with Bill, a few days ago it bothered me. “Morning love, you look pretty”, Bill whispered in my ear as he grabbed my hand. “Morning Bill. Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself”, I whispered the last part. After breakfast, Molly wanted us to check our trunks for the year. I was in Charlie and Percy’s room double checking my things, when someone clears their throat. “Whatcha doing?”, Bill asked. “Same thing everyone else is doing, silly”, I grinned. “It’s your 7th year, what could you have missed to pack? I have a better idea”, he smirked. “Oh yeah what’s that?”, I teased back. “Just your lips on me while I discover more of you, if that’s okay with you, love”, Bill ran a hand through my hair. I bite my tongue from groaning or screaming with excitement. “What d’ya say?”, Bill asked again. I turned around and grabbed his jaw, “Better make it good, who’s know when I’ll you again” Bill smirked, “That I can do, baby” Bill smashed his lips onto mine, grabbing my waist with his large hands. I ran my tongue over his bottom lip, gripping his hair, the groan didn’t slip my ears or mind. I smirked as I entered his mouth from him groaning. Bill held his hands on my thighs, he pulled away, “Jump” I smirked before wrapping my ankles around his waist and clasping my hands in his hair. “Good girl”, Bill whispered as he kissed my neck before getting my lips again. We made out for a while until Molly’s voice rang in the halls. Bill was still kissing me as Molly walked away. I pulled away, “Bill, come on let me go”, I sighed as he attacked my neck with kisses and licks. He didn’t listen, “Bill”, I whined. The older man groaned in my neck before dropping me to my feet, “Not fair” “What are you on about, Weasley?”, I asked, shutting my trunk. “Do you know how addicting your lips and kisses are? Now, you have to leave me”, Bill scolded, more like pouting. “If you help me take my trunks down, I might sneak in a kiss before I leave”, I giggled. Bill perked up and grabbed my trunks, “Huh Bill, you forgot something”, I smiled at the eager redhead. “Oh sorry”, He smiled. I kissed him for each trunk, “four kisses for four trunks, I think that’s a good deal”, I smirked as I followed him downstairs. “About time”, George groaned. “Yeah, what did you pack? A house?”, Ron rolled his eyes. “Ronald Bilius!”, Molly scolded with her hands on her hips. Fred and George grinned. “Since you’re here, want to join us Bill?”, Molly smiled at her oldest. He grinned at me and then her, “I would love to, Mum”

“Jesus, Y/n what did you pack?”, Fred groaned as he threw my last trunk in. “You know uniforms, robes, after school clothes, my bass and my guitar”, I smirked as Lee Jordan walked in the booth. “Hey Lee”, I said. “Lee help me. Princess decided to bring stuff she didn’t need”, Fred groaned. “Work out more and you won’t have that problem, Frederick”, I smirked. “Hey is that Angelina? Wow she grew up this year!”, George said, winking at me. Fred almost broke his neck trying to find the girl who wasn’t even there. We all laughed at him, “Fuck you, Georgie”, he huffed plopping down with his twin. The boys started their own conversation, I decided to read ‘The Great Gatsby’. The longer I read, the more I thought of Bill, his hands on my waist, biceps that bludged as he held me against a wall of his childhood home. Godric forbid, his plump, soft pink lips. The way he made me feel was more than Cedric or even my secret girlfriend, Evie. The thought of Bill Weasley drove me mad and my body even crazier.

A few days later, I was in Great hall with Hermoine. Kids were putting their name into the goblet, cheering as their name was accepted. The twins barreled in the Great hall, talking about the potion they made. I told them they were wasting their time, it wouldn’t work because they’re not old enough and Molly would kill them for even entering. “It’s not gonna worrrkkk”, Hermoine smirked. “Moine, don’t start”, I sighed as George pushed by to kennel by the younger girl. “Oh yeah, why’s that granger?”, Fred smirked. Hermoine huffed, rolled her eyes before replying, “It’s an age line drawn by Dumbleodore himself.”, I rolled my eyes and blocked them out, Hermoine didn’t realize sometimes you gotta let the two idiots do stuff to find out not everything will go their way. “Guys, what happens if it actually works? Then Dumbledore pulls one of your names, he’s not gonna let you either one of you attempt the tasks”, I held George’s hand. They looked at each other and smirked, “Chill”, Fred said squishing my cheek. “You worry too much, brookie”, George held my other cheek. “Fine, do it, I don’t care”, I sighed as Cedric dropped his name in. We locked eyes for a moment, “Meet me outside”, He mouthed. George and Fred drank their potion and jumped into the line. “Oh no”, I whined, knowing it was gonna go south any second now. “Yeahhh”, Fred and George high waved to each other. Blue flames shot out and the twins were thrown out of the line. The hall was quiet before giggling filled the hall, I looked over to see the twins now old men with beards similar to our headmaster.

“You said”, “You said”, the twins whined before tackling each to the ground. I decided to see what Cedric wanted, “Y/n”, Cedric said from the stairs. “What is it, Diggory?”, I rolled my eyes. “Just want to talk is that a problem?”, Cedric asked. “Depends on the topic”, I deadpanned. “I know I fucked up hard and broke your heart. I shouldn’t have tried to find some other happiness, I needed to talk to you instead of-”, I cut him off. “Instead of thinking with your dick and plunging it into some girl who was willing to help get your rocks off, am I in the right direction, Ced? Whatever you have to say I don’t care nor do I want to ever speak to you again unless prefect duties make that in motion. So get fucked, Diggory”, I stood tall. Cedric looked guilty and wasn’t making eye contact. “What I thought and stay far away from me”, I grabbed his chin, making him look at me.

“Why were you with Brooks? I thought you liked Chang?”, Tommy, Cedric’s best friend asked. “Don’t worry about it”, Cedric stormed off. Dinner came along, I was seated between the twins as usual. “What’s wrong?”, Fred asked, getting a drink. “I’ll tell you guys later, okay?”, I said with no emotions. The pair seem to understand I was moody and could snap any moment. Cedric walked in with Cho laughing, holding her hand. Some much anger coursed with my body, I snapped the cup in my hand. The twins, Hermoine, Harry, Ron and Lee stared at me. I got up and walked to the door. “Miss Brooks'', Professor McGonall yelled behind me. “Professor, no disrespect but I don’t think now is the time to talk to her”, George said. I slammed the door of my prefect dorm, screaming and kicking stuff. The door opened as I threw the compact mirror off my vanity, “What?!!”, I screamed. The twins stood there cautiously, “Up to talking yet?”, George asked. I bit my lip, drawing blood. “Hey hey, look at me. Y/n, look at me”, Fred got my attention, I stared into his brown eyes for a second. I cried walking over to him, hugging his chest. “Freddie” “It’s okay, Freddie gotcha. Shushh, it’s alright”, Fred petted my head and rubbed my back. Hot tears rushed out of my eyes onto Fred’s quidditch jumper, “I’m sorry, I got your jumper all wet”, I rubbed my sleeve under my nose. Fred grinned, “That’s the first time water has hit my chest all year” I scoffed, George grinned. “It was Cedric and Cho wasn’t it?”, Fred asked. “That was my breaking point, Freddie. He asked me to meet him after he put his name in the goblet today. I’m beginning to think I was too aggressive with him”, I said. “Why?”, George asked from the spot on my bed. “I kinda cussed him out and didn’t let him talk. Just amused he was apologizing for last spring”, I said sheepishly. “You wouldn’t let us beat him up so I think you cussing him out was good, love. Don’t worry about them, besides Charlie is coming this week”, George said.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley series #hp #bill weasley imagine

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maddiefriendlovesbilly · 3 years ago

Text

Back by literally zero request:

Once More, This Time With Feeling: Pt. 2

Rating: PG13 for violence and graphic descriptions, SFW

Ship: Ghost/Spooker

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of intense panic attacks and dissociation, derealization, depersonalization, implied traumatic events, similarities to alters switching (Jimmy and Gregory, not intentional but is still there due to the nature of the scene), Graphic Descriptions of violence, Major Character Death (temporary) and probably more (please tell me if there is anything else that needs to be tagged!)

Summary: Ghost learns that watching someone die in front of you is a very quick way to find out how much you actually care about them - even if you're not quite ready to admit it just yet. (Contains lots of fluff with a decent amount of angst mixed in! Could be considered hurt/comfort)

Wordcount: 2634

Nothing can be compared to the sound of an axe splitting a head clean open. Ghost can’t move. He can’t think. This can’t be happening. He’s gonna wake up now...Now...Now.

But nothing happens.

He glances down, numbly, at Spooker’s lifeless body on the ground. Blood spills from the crevice in his skull. Ghost’s stomach lurches, so he looks back up at the doorway, wondering if he’s next. It barely registers that there is no enemy. Just an axe swinging gently back and forth on a rope attached to the ceiling. A trap. It was a trap all along, and they fell for it. Distantly, he wonders if brains can be repaired once they’re split open like that. He thinks, Probably not.

Ghost feels like his world is sinking, crashing, burning. Why isn’t he getting up? Billy’s powers should still hold up here - they’re well within range of the Acachalla house, so why?

He realizes he’s been staring vacantly at Spooker for the past who knows how long, and when he looks up Katrina is standing in front of him, staring at him from behind her mane. She gurgles, sounding somehow both sympathetic and smug despite saying no actual words, and Ghost wavers between collapsing to the ground and sobbing, and strangling her on the spot. Something twitches inside of him, vile and immoral, waiting for its moment to strike. He considers indulging it just this once; doesn’t get the chance to decide whether he really will because Katrina pounces, claws digging into his ribcage like she’s searching for something - and in his last moments of consciousness, he watches something pulse in her hand, once, before all goes dark.

Even in death, it seems he’s not allowed to rest.

As soon as his eyes close, they blink open. He can’t see anything, but he feels a doorknob under his hand and feels his mouth finishing the words, “--what about the others?”

Behind him, Spooker’s voice replies, without a hint of caution or worry, “No luck over he-Woah!”

The door hits the wall and Ghost’s eyes widen with fear. He hears himself stutter out, “H-Hey, you good?”

He mouths the words as Spooker says them, glad at least that the room is too dark for Spooker to see it. “Yeah...yeah, I’m alright, just caught me off guard. Let’s go.” He pivots, lunging blindly for where Spooker’s voice came from, tackling him. Something sharp nicks his cheek, and he feels a slight breeze pass overhead. They hit the ground hard, but Ghost decides he prefers that over the alternative.

“Ghost! Wh-What was that for?”

He fumbles for his emergency batteries and reloads his flashlight as fast as he can, knowing Katrina could appear any second. He shines his light towards the doorway, where the axe takes a final swing inwards, before disappearing behind the door for good.

“Holy crap Ghost, how...how did you know that was there?”

“Instincts or something, I guess…” He pants, out of breath.

His mind buzzes and whirs, and he can hardly think through it, but he can’t just lay on top of Spooker forever, so he forces himself to stand, peeking around the corner cautiously.

Katrina is nowhere in sight. His chest aches with how coiled his muscles are - ready to spring at any moment.

Spooker dusts himself off and peeks over Ghost’s shoulder, searching the room and finding the exact same thing Ghost did — nothing. Ghost just barely restrains himself from putting a protective arm between Spooker and the empty room.

Cautiously, he steps inside, Spooker close behind. The only sound is that of their boots clicking against the tile floor. Despite everything, he finds time to thank any gods watching that Spooker has been too distracted by the new surroundings to baby him about the second cut across his cheek. It’s only a matter of time though, he knows.

Glancing around cautiously, Ghost takes in the decrepit machinery dominating the room’s layout. Most of it has decayed beyond recognition. In the far right corner sits a row of industrial shelves containing what at first looks to be scrap metal and wires, but as they approach them, turns out to be an assortment of batteries and other miscellaneous electronics.

“Score!!” Spooker shouts, and by some miracle Ghost quells his roaring panic into a tense, “Spooker, be careful, we don’t know if the entity is nearby.”

Spooker appears duly contrite, so he lets it go this once, if only because he doesn’t fully grasp the peril they are in. Hell, even Ghost’s not sure what the bigger picture is. If that entity is truly Katrina, then what are her motives? And if it isn’t, did the others see someone else?

Spooker is currently loading some new batteries into his flashlight, so Ghost feigns at inspecting some old flip phones on one of the shelves near Spooker and asks hesitantly, “That girl earlier, you saw her too right?”

“The one with the sharp claws and hair all in her eyes? Yeah, why?”

“Hm. Interesting,” is all he can say.

So if it’s something pretending to be her to toy with him, why did everyone see Katrina, instead of their own illusions? Is it just another layer to the deception? Why bother?

What is the point?

“Is that Nokia particularly thought-provoking, or are you gonna tell me what you’re thinking about?” Spooker had apparently appeared over his shoulder sometime while he was lost in thought, and Ghost jerks around, slamming into the shelf of Nokias, now behind him.

A loud CLANG resonates throughout the room, reverberating off the surrounding machinery in ways that seem almost staged -- it’s hauntingly ethereal.

Spooker’s hands fly out to steady him immediately, a look of concern clearly written on his face. For some reason, despite all logic, the first thing he notices is how close they are to each other. The second is the pain in his back. He hisses.

Spooker’s hands flit about nervously, from Ghost’s shoulder to his face before he curls his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that -- okay maybe a little but-” Ghost’s mouth twitches upwards in amusement involuntarily. “-I didn’t think you’d startle that badly! Really! I’m so so sorry-”

Ghost realizes that Spooker could probably apologize all day if allowed to, so he cuts in, “I’m fine Spooker.” it’s mostly the truth, he’ll probably bruise like hell tomorrow morning, but other than that he’s okay. He’s been through much worse on a mission, so he tries to seem sincere when he smiles slightly and says, “Seriously, it’s nothing to worry about, I’m alright.”

Spooker seems placated for all of two seconds before he suddenly squints at Ghost with heavy suspicion. “Are you saying that because you’re actually fine, or because your pain-rating scale only has the options of ‘not bleeding out or missing limbs, so doing fine,’ and ‘currently bleeding out or missing limbs, might need assistance if the situation is truly dire?’”

Ghost glances away, he’s not exactly wrong - not that he’ll admit that. “It’s actually fine, just a small bruise.”

“Uh huh.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Turn around, let me see it.”

“Wha-Why? I told you it’s fine!” He is not whining right now, that would be childish. He’s just...objecting loudly. Yes.

“Yeah, and I totally believe you. Turn around.”

Ghost eyes the space under Spooker’s arm, calculating possible escapes. “We have much more important things to do than play doctor Spooker. Like finding a way out of here perhaps? You can swaddle me in bubble wrap when we get out of here for all I care, but right now I’d like to keep moving forward.”

Spooker seems to debate this for a few moments before blinking a few times and replying, “Fine, but if you start struggling to keep up I’m not going to be so nice.” He moves back, letting Ghost slide past him and out from between the shelves. Ghost has to push aside the very strong feeling that he’s had that conversation before.

Ghost ignores the inexplicable heat in his cheeks and starts scanning the room for an exit. For some reason it feels like the temperature has risen quite a bit since they entered, maybe the next room will be cooler. It could be some sort of elaborate trap to slowly boil them to death without them noticing. Who really knows with ghosts.

The walls around the machines are solid grey concrete, smooth and uniform. Ghost searches for some sort of inconsistency, a flaw somewhere, and eventually he finds a small notch in the otherwise perfect walls, and moves to investigate.

As he starts to approach it the sound of something metal hitting the floor ricochets from behind the shelves. “S-Sorry! My...My bad....”

“You alright?”

“Fine! Fine! Everything is fine!” Spookers voice is an octave too high to be deemed truly fine, but Ghost chalks it up to being startled by the loud noise. He looks back at the notch in the wall. Suddenly, he realizes that engraved just above the notch is a long string of symbols he’s never seen before. He wonders how he didn’t notice the intricate carvings until now.

“ᚱᛖᛋᛏ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚨᚱᛗᛋ ᛟᚠ ᚹᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᛃᛟᚢᚱ ᛋᛟᚢᛚ ᛁᛋ ᚱᛟᛟᛏᛖᛞ. ᛒᚱᛖᚨᛏᚺᛖ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚨᚢᚱᚨ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᛃᛟᚢ ᛋᚺᚨᚱᛖ. ᛟᚾᚲᛖ ᛏᚺᛖᛋᛖ ᚲᛟᚾᛞᛁᛏᛁᛟᚾᛋ ᚺᚨᚹᛖ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᛗᛖᛏ, ᛏᚺᛖ ᛈᚨᛏᚺ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛟᛈᛖᚾ.”

Squinting at it, he decides to call Spooker over. Spooker scampers up, yet again hovering just over his left shoulder. Ghost is starting to think he just likes being there. For some reason this doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t know why.

Spooker looks at the symbols for a few seconds like they’re familiar, before finally he exclaims, “Oh! I know what those are - Those are Nordic Runes - specifically Elder Futhark!”

“You just...knew that?”

“I’ve always been into occult stuff, y’know? Apparently people still use these for divination today! But it’s also a language - like right here...” He points at one that looks like a fancy M over Ghost’s shoulder, and he’s beaming so brightly that Ghost is pretty sure he’s found the reason it’s so hot in this room - the warmth in his smile as he talks could rival the sun. Spooker keeps talking, explaining what different runes mean and their individual names, and Ghost realizes he’s been staring at Spooker’s face instead of paying attention, so he looks back at the runes and hopes he hadn’t noticed. Spooker doesn’t mention it if he does, just keeps talking about runes and their meanings, and it settles a part of Ghost he hadn’t even realized was jittery until now.

Something in the notched section of wall clicks twice, and not a second later does the wall slide open in one smooth motion. Behind it lies a rather dull looking corridor, with plain, dark walls, and a sharp turn about twenty feet ahead. They both jump slightly at the sudden change, but just as quickly steel themselves and enter, unwilling to test how long it would remain open. “Do you know what opened it?”

Spooker’s eyes flick side to side like he’s debating with himself. “Well, the clue was really vague...So I’m not really sure..” He scratches his chin. He’s pretty sure Spooker is hiding something, but asking what the clue was when he probably said it earlier is practically announcing that he wasn’t actually paying attention, so instead he just replies, “Huh, weird. Well as long as we’re making progress it can’t be a bad thing. Let’s go.”

Spooker, for one reason or another, stays silent.

Oh. It seems he forgot where he was.

As they round the corner they are met with the one and only Katrina - or whatever it is that’s pretending to be her - standing about thirty feet down the hallway. Ghost could swear she’s smiling under her mop of hair. He wants to run, or scream, or just, at the very least, move, preferably somewhere where the blood red eyes piercing through her veil of hair can’t follow him. But he can’t. He’s stuck to the spot, like he’s been sautered to the floor. He feels a presence behind him - and it can’t be her because he’s staring right at her; so it must be Spooker hovering just over his left shoulder, just like always, and if he wasn’t frozen in place he might have cried with relief. He manages to drag a shaking hand backwards until it meets Spooker’s, intertwining their fingers with a bruising grip. Katrina observes this, before nodding her head in what looks like approval. She turns on her heel and shambles back the way she presumably came.

“Wh-” His voice cracks, forcing him to pause and gather himself. “What was that. Why did she-I don’t, I don’t understand. Why-Why would…I don’t understand-” The jittery fragment grows restless, feeding off of his panic. He doesn’t understand what it is, he doesn’t understand what just happened, he doesn’t understand anything at all.

The fragment is growing agitated now. He doesn’t know why or how or what it is. It’s hungry. It’s so hungry. How did he end up on the ground? When did he start laughing? There’s someone talking somewhere. They feel familiar, safe. Who were they again? He’s still holding their hand. A face has come into view, or maybe they lifted his head. He feels like he’s watching through a window. The face - so so familiar, yet completely unrecognizable - wipes tears from his cheeks. Is he crying? They look worried; it looks wrong on their face. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong--

It’s all wrong.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be. It’s not real.

Spooker - that’s his name - looks at him with a frantic, desperate, fearful look in his eyes. He’s still laughing, he realizes.

“I saw you die,” falls from his mouth, unbidden. He doesn’t know why. “The axe. It killed you.” He giggles hysterically, but it’s choked off by more tears.

“I know,” Spooker says in a soothing voice, like he’s talking to a caged animal, “I know, I’m sorry.” They’re still holding hands, even after all of this. He looks down to see that his nails have dug deep enough into Spooker’s hand to draw blood. He starts to pull away, but Spooker catches his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You can hold on for as long as you need, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” Everything is still so foggy, but the red haze is gone. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you okay?”

“But, normal....normal people don’t.” He swallows thickly. “Don’t do this.”

“No, no they don’t,” Spooker agrees.

“So why am I?”

“We’re gonna figure it out, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay.” He feels very small. Vulnerable. Scared. He finds himself longing for a mansion he’s never seen before; tall and green and empty, so empty. Home.

He suddenly feels exhausted. “I-I can’t,” he blinks rapidly, trying to stem the drooping of his eyelids.

“It’s okay, you can rest. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“Alright…”

The next time his eyes close, he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

#jess writes #venturiantale #venturiantale pie #taleblr #ghost/spooker #ghooker #fred spooker soup #fred spooker #johnny toast #johnny ghost #chris colon ghostie #vt pie #paranormal investigators extraordinaire #fuck uhhhh #ill add more later prolly

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Dead, Hargrove

on ao3 also

Steve had cried when Billy had fallen. Had sobbed as he stood helplessly by Robin’s side while one minute Billy had been caressed by El’s hand and the next he was seemingly dead on the ground. Steve had collapsed to his knees and Robin had almost stumbled to join him. He’d gone back to his vacant home again eventually. He’d finally accepted it and he’d gotten a job. Tried to forget about everything for a while even if he knew he’d never forget it. The monsters, the screams, Billy’s lifeless crystal pools before Max herself closed her own brothers eyes. Then, a month later, he’d gotten a call with the yell of Max’s voice.

“He’s alive!” she yelled into his ear. And then in a whisper with a rage he couldn’t quite describe, “He’s fucking alive!”

“Who?” Steve asked, only a little confused. He had a hunch.

“Billy! He’s alive!” Steve froze up, shoulders locked and eyes unblinking. “He’s in the hospital. Has been. Apparently he was just transferred back. They called the house and asked for Neil but he wasn’t here. So they told me instead. I may have yelled at them a little. But he’s at the hospital and no one else would probably take me right now. So, can you come get me?”

Steve took a moment to catch up and Max seemingly allowed it, “I— yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a few,” he agreed. She thanked him and hung up her end of the line.

He stood there clutching the plastic yellow kitchen telephone for a moment though. He’d hoped. He had laid awake for hours and hours with the dwindling hope that there was any chance. He knew Max had too, had called him a few nights when the house got too quiet. And the room across from hers held too many shadows.

They’d never had a funeral. Neil Hargrove didn’t want to waste money on a casket. He’d taken that as a sign. Because funerals were a send away to the deceased right? Without one there was a bit of a halt in flow. Now, it was a lot of Neil Hargrove not wanting to waste money and the fact that the government supposedly didn’t want to give back the body. But still, Steve kept going with the coals of Billy’s survival. He was so relieved now that his limbs lost function with the way excitement rumbled in his bones.

On his way to the Hargrove-Mayfield residence he thought to himself more. He knew that Billy would be different. After that? Steve wasn’t that naive to not think of these things. But he wanted to get along with Billy. He wasn’t going to miss this second chance. They’d both messed it up the last time. But maybe they’d be able to start something of a friendship. Call it a guess that Billy might not have many of those.

Max brought a bright blue backpack with her when she tossed herself in the passenger seat, “Hey! So,” she buckled when he simply pointed at it over her shoulder and put the gear in reverse. “So,” she started again, “I kinda haven’t told anyone else. But I will once I see how he is,” she spoke unsurely of herself. He smiled kindly and she relaxed into the seat a little.

“That’s a good idea, Mad Max,” he nodded as he tried to keep his jittery hands straight on the steering wheel. “We should make sure he’s better prepared for visitors. I think just us going in for now is fine. We shouldn’t bombard him.”

“Right,” she agreed, “That’s what I was thinking.” He glanced over and saw the biggest smile he thought he’d ever seen on her. He removed one shaky hand and put a fist out midair. She stared a moment and then pressed her own wobbling fist against his own. They shared a bubbly laugh while they could.

...

Well, the room wasn’t warm. Neither was Billy by the looks of the goosebumps on his arms. But his face was pink and healthier than the last time they’d seen him. Max stood ahead of him in the doorway. All three of them had a sort of staring match.

Until Steve spoke, that is, “Hey, Billy,” it came out as more of a whisper as he waved at the man choppily. But Billy looked at him tearily and smiled.

“Hey, Harrington,” he looked back at his sister, “Maxine. It’s good to see ya.” His voice sounded dry and a little cracked in a few places. Like aged porcelain. He looked a bit like it too. He had thin scars that sprouted all over his skin. White and pink pale wisps that peaked out of the thin white T-shirt. There were black and blue threads that held some of the longer cuts. His hair was buzzed but it had grown to about an inch sized fuzz around his skull.

Max rushed forward and halted right beside his bedside, “Can I hug you? Please?” her knees bent a little at the final request. Billy’s eyes were wide and reflective as he nodded. She threw her arms open but moved slowly. They clung to each other and ‘I’m sorry’s’ were tossed back and forth relentlessly. Repeated over and over again by both of them. They stayed huddled on the edge of the bed so Steve allowed himself in with silent steps. He hovered in the middle space of the doorway and the end of Billy’s hospital bed as he stared out the window respectively letting them have their reunion.

“So, Harrington,” he heard suddenly, “What’s been up since I left?” Steve looked at the two again. Max sat in the empty and partially dusty chair closest to Billy’s bedside. Her hair brightened in the sunlight that peaked through the mostly opened blinds. Billy had a pleased smile when Steve looked at him. And then he noticed the little dots contrasted against Billy’s paled skin.

“I never realized you had freckles,” Steve answered instead. Then he jolted a little at the realization that he’d said it out loud. “I mean, cause, you know, they look...nice,” he stuttered. “They’re a good look.”

Billy smirked at his dumbfounded fumbling, “Thanks, Harrington.” His own pink ears didn’t go unnoticed.

Steve sighed in relief silently and nodded, “Steve. You can call me Steve.”

Billy tilted his head much like an innocent bird, “Alright, Steve,” he said casually. “Missed you too,” he added after a blank moment.

Steve eyebrows came together in his confusion, “Really?”

Billy grinned a little dopily, “Yeah.”

The room grew warmer.

...

Steve hadn’t expected the drastic change. Sure, Billy still made his sarcastic comments and jokes. But, they were produced with a foreign sort of care. Steve found himself a little dumbfounded a couple times when Billy called him nicknames with no joking aim to his voice.

“What’s this, Princess?” he asked when Steve handed over a folded brown paper bag. Something began to boil in Steve’s tummy and chest.

“A puzzle,” he answered, “300 pieces,” he smiled widely. Billy raised one eyebrow and opened the bag noisily. He pulled out the box and admired the picture. It was something out of a calendar, the lineup of top model muscle cars. Silvers and golds and blues and reds and greens. “I just thought it looked cool,” Steve shrugged. He truly, definitely, absolutely hadn’t noticed the Camaro right dab in the middle. Nope.

Billy chuckled and set it in his lap, “Well thanks,” he smiled toothily. “Welcome back, have a seat,” he gestured to the seat that Max had sat in the last time they had visited.

Steve nodded and did as requested, “Max had homework to do so she told me to come visit alone. Hope that’s okay,” he gripped the arms of the chair and slid it so he could face Billy better.

Something fell from Billy’s expression, eyes turned down in disappointment, “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to. I’d prefer you to actually want to be here instead, actually.” Blatant honesty was another thing Billy had taken up, or maybe he just enhanced it with all the help from the therapist that came in on Wednesday’s.

Steve crossed his legs and kept his hands around the arm rests with furrowed brows, “What are you talking about? I was already coming, she just couldn’t make it this time around. I want to be here, Bill. Kinda want to retry the whole friend thing if you don’t mind actually,” he looked off to Billy’s shoulder.

Billy looked surprised at that, “Wait,” he lifted his arms a little, “You want to be friends with me?” he asked.

Steve looked back at him and smiled, “Well yeah,” he tuned, “I think we could both use a buddy.” He flapped his ebows out a little as if to nudge him goofily.

Billy’s lips twisted, “I will not be referred to as a ‘buddy’ thank you very much,” he grumbled.

Steve only laughed as he wrapped an arm wound himself comfortably and leaned back, “Yeah, yeah.”

Billy opened his mouth and then closed it again before looking at Steve and opening it again, “I had my third session with Dr. Eros today.” The therapist.

Steve looked on interestedly, “How’d it go?”

Billy relaxed more in himself, “we talked about you actually.”

Something fluttered in his abdomen nervously, “Me?”

Billy nodded, “He said,” Billy looked down and then back up again, “And I agreed, that I should apologize for how I treated you.” He seemed to be struggling for words so Steve silently let him find his footing. “You just wanted to finish high school and I just assumed you were a sucky person because of all the bullshit Tommy Hagan cranked out.”

“You know, I already forgive you,” Steve assured. Although, Billy didn’t look any bit assured at all.

“No, Steve,” he sat up and swiveled around to his feet dangled off and he could look directly at him, “You don’t need to say that. I was bad. I was,” he grew teary, “I pushed everyone good away. Anyone that was nice to me and that was horrible. So, for me, if you really do forgive me. Help remind me that I can’t push you away. You can’t forgive me that easily. That’s not how it works.”

“Seems to me that you’ve ingrained that into your own head just fine by now,” Steve smiled forlornly.

Billy pressed his lips together, “Please, I need something earned.” Steve watched as Billy slowly got up to his feet and traveled over to the chair beside him.

“Alright, Bill, whatever you wish.”

Billy nodded determinedly, brows creased, “Thank you.”

“Now let’s get to that puzzle,” he untangled himself and leaned forward. “I suck at them so hopefully you’ll be a bit better.” Billy snorted quietly and Steve found himself gazing and stupefied by the surprisingly adorable sound. Steve took the box to distract himself by opening it.

“My reflexes and muscle endurance is still shit,” Billy watched Steve’s hands. “But I’ll try, Pretty Boy.” He called Steve that the most.

They worked on the puzzle for three hours. They got distracted multiple times and had to stop when a nurse wandered in occasionally to check vitals and blood pressure or give Billy his food. They had finished and cheered half heartedly to celebrate when Billy laid back in his mattress with a long sigh. A content one.

“Man, you know what I could really use?” he asked with his eyes closed and his long eyelashes shadowing his cheeks.

“What’s that?” Steve stretched his back and shoulders.

Billy stayed still, “A smoothie.”

Steve lowered his arms and stared at Billy’s, for once, peaceful face, “Really?”

Billy nodded, “Hell yeah. I love them, I do miss the Orange Julius’ they had in Cali.”

Steve shook his head, “There’s one in just the next county over,” he disagreed, “Oh, and there’s a smoothie bar that just opened actually,” he added offhandedly. He didn’t mention the one in the mall.

Billy chuckled in a sarcastic manner, “Some people don’t like it when you’re trying to be happy, Steve.”

Steve leaned forward again to focus, “What do you mean by that?”

Billy simply opened one eye and said, “You gonna go get me a smoothie or what? Maybe it’ll be easier to down than the flavorless burgers they have here.”

Steve shook his head, “I doubt that.” But he gave Billy a considerate hug goodbye anyway.

...

Steve had only been gone forty minutes. But apparently that was enough time for Neil Hargrove to finally hear about his son’s arrangement in the hospital. Why Max had insisted that he didn’t know was beyond Steve’s knowledge. But he also knew that Max was smart and most likely had her good reasons. So when he heard from the nurse that he had arrived and was in the room with Billy, he ran. Ignoring her requests to slow down and not bringing the smoothies into the room. The door hit the wall when it opened and he had to act fast to keep the smoothies from tipping over and onto the floor.

He hadn’t even had time to look up when he heard, “Oh!” and a harsh laugh. “That's why you kept looking at the door instead of at me? Thought someone was coming to save you from this?” The man sounded dangerous but Steve almost laughed when he looked up. The handlebar mustache and rectangular face. He wasn’t surprised. The man looked like the type and Steve had his own expertise when it came to reading people. Billy’s glassy and unemotional eyes were what really made the difference though. Billy had started to portray his emotions, now they were all blocked off. It was scary.

“Shut up and get away from him.” Steve hadn’t even realized he said it. But he did feel the adrenaline rush that came with the disastrous rage that surfaced. Neil’s face morphed from cruel amusement to fury in just one second. Billy’s transformed to horror. Steve felt his stomach twist but he gathered enough of a hold to offer a shaky smile to the familiar blue eyes.

“Steve—“

“You have some nerve to speak to me that way,” Neil spoke quietly. Steve wavered for only a moment. He had faced worse monsters than the senior Hargrove. Hell, he’d faced one Hargrove already. Of course, he still wished he had his bat or Max in this round too.

“I have more reason than nerve,” Steve spouted back and relaxed his shoulders forcefully.

Neil looked out the door and when Steve blinked he was faced with a smiling man, “Why don’t we speak outside, boy?”

“No— Da— Sir,” Billy shifted in his spot but Steve had already turned on his heel after setting the drink tray down on an empty seat. Neil Hargrove’s footsteps followed him all the way outside and even to his car. When he heard the tempo of them speed up he ran again. Opened his trunk and took out the bat.

“What the fuck is that?” the man roared. Steve disregarded him and gripped the hilt just like he did when he was preparing himself for a demodog. The parking lot wasn’t very empty but there was space and no one out to witness firsthand what was about to happen.

Steve taunted the bat and held it low, “You come near me?” He nodded to the blood rusted nailed bat, “You get hit.” Neil looked frightened before he shifted to unbothered. There was a glint in his eyes. Something broken between scared and doubtful.

“You don’t have the guts, kid,” he spoke. Steve already assumed that Neil wouldn’t be one to back down from a fight; too egotistical.

“Oh yeah?” Steve waved the bat back and forth like a golfer before taking a swing. He made easy eye contact with the tense man, “Try me.” Neil took a step back and straightened his posture. Steve was still taller.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Want me to stop bullying my pathetic son, eh?” he perceived unconcern.

“Almost spot on,” Steve smiled wickedly and tightened his hold as his anger and annoyance grew uncontainable, “I want you to fuck off.” He stepped closer when Neil opened his mouth, “I have connections in this town. And I have ways to take you out in just a measly hour at any given notice. So, you leave him alone or you leave this town. Because if I see a hair out of place on him by your hand?” They were nose to nose and the tip of the closest nails were poking Neil’s chest stingingly. “You’re dead, Hargrove.” He pushed the man back with a force that made him hiss in pain when the nails dug in. Steve smiled unkindly and backed away slowly until Neil took the hint.

Max arrived with Susan not too long after Steve had returned to Billy. He’d calmed Billy down as much as possible and then shoved a lukewarm blueberry and vanilla smoothie into his palm to cease the questions.

Steve stayed silent through any inquisitives for most of his visit.

...

“Max said Neil left town,” Billy opened with when Steve walked through the doorway.

“Ran off where?” Steve asked without looking. He removed his backpack and sat in the accustomed chair as he unzipped it.

Billy sounded on edge and relieved all at once, “No one knows, but he left two hundred in cash and his car is gone along with a forth of the house.”

Steve snorted, “Figures.” Billy grunted in what Steve supposed was agreement.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Billy went on as he took the paper diner cup filled with milkshake.

“Yeah, I sneak your weekly smoothies and milkshakes in all by myself. You’re welcome,” Steve deflected.

“Steve.” He sighed and looked at Billy. Billy looked determined and unbridled and Steve was done with side stepping.

“I threatened him with my bat,” he said and fiddled with the straw in his own treat.

“Why?” Billy asked curiously, not exactly what Steve had expected as the response. Maybe more of a, ‘why the hell are you interfering, Harrington?’ sort of thing.

“Uh,” he squinted as he pondered how to answer. “Well, he’s an asshole, he hurt you, and I hate him. So I think that’s enough of a reason,” he nodded to himself and took a sip of vanilla ice cream. Billy hesitated and then did the same but didn’t take his eyes away from Steve’s.

“Are you two having, like, a full conversation like this?” Max barged in unapologetically. “‘Cause you’re not saying anything and it’s creepy

Billy spoke before Steve could, “I got him to answer.”

Max sat by his feet on the end of the bed and swung her legs, “Care to restate?”

Billy rolled his eyes fondly as Steve watched them with his jaw lowered, “It was the bat.”

Max smirked, “I knew it. What did you say to him to shake him up so bad?” Steve settled himself with the knowledge that he'd managed to remove another monster from Hawkins as he formed an appropriate response. That he technically did the right thing, and he didn’t actually end up hurting anyone.

“That’s just for him and I to know I think,” he deflected quietly. “And he’s gone now, so all that matters is getting Billy back on his feet.”

Billy’s eyes grew dewy but he smiled freely, “Okay,” his voice cracked with emotion. Max scowled but didn’t push it. Instead, she took off her bag and picked out a comic that Steve didn’t recognize.

“Here,” she shoved it into Billy’s hand, “It’s a new one Dustin gave me.” When a tear fell and Billy brushed it away, no one mentioned it. At least not right away. When Max went to get a drink downstairs Steve scooted closer.

“You know you’re not alone, right?” he looked down and grasped Billy's hand with both of his own. “You have me and Max. We’ll be here every day, Bill,” Steve swore. “No, need to waste your tears over that asshole.”

“I just never thought it would happen,” his cheeks were wet. “I mean, I don’t have either of my parents left.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched, “And you don’t need them.”

“But I do, Steve!” Billy’s hand shook even between Steve’s own. “What am I supposed to do? My mother’s somewhere off in Washington state and my father is a piece of shit that won’t even try to change.”

Steve leaned in and spoke quietly, “Both of them don’t deserve you. You’re so strong, Billy. You went up against an interdimensional monster and won. You’ve grown and you’re working on yourself, allowing yourself into therapy and getting actual help.” Billy’s lips quivered and more tears fell. “You’re so much better than them, Bill, better than them put together. So much better.” Billy pawed away the wires and Steve was halfway on the bed as he held him.

His shoulder was drenched by the time Max returned. But Billy had a new light to his demeanor. And that was way more important.

...

Max stopped Steve before they exited the doors to the parking lot, “We should tell the others.”

Steve stared at her, a little boggled, “Uh, okay. We can do that, yeah,” he nodded.

“Tonight,” she looked up at him stonily. She acted like her brother more than most would think since they weren’t biologically related. Unbudging.

“Max,” he looked at his watch, “It’s six, they’ll all be having dinner with their families.”

She laughed a little, not in an amused way either, “At least they get that luxury even if we don’t.”

“Max—“ he began warningly.

“You don’t have to hide it, Steve,” she put her hands on her hips, “We know that your parents are practically nonexistent. They’re never around in the first place and Joyce had to drive you home from the hospital after Starcourt. And you were here for most of the week.” He sighed tiredly. He couldn’t disagree with her, no one ever disagreed with Max and won easily.

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Mad Max,” he patted her shoulder fraternally. She looked unimpressed in return. “How about we get some KFC and you, me, and your mom can have our own little dinner.”

She smiled and he felt something release itself from the back of his mind, “Let’s go then!”

…

He may have gone a little overboard, there was lots of fried chicken and lots of mashed potatoes in his and Max’s possession as they walked into the house. Susan was reading on the small sofa as muted baseball illuminated the television box.

“Steve bought dinner, Mama!” Max greeted loudly as she kicked off her shoes and joined her mother.

Steve laughed to himself, “Hope you don’t mind, Ma’am,” he set a bag of food beside Max’s on the table. Susan had gotten a lot more independent in just a few days. Had gone out for dinner with Claudia Henderson, made very good friends with her. Had a job in a boutique in town and everything. Max started spending more time with her now too.

“Oh, it’s just fine,” she waved his nerves off and opened a bag, “Thank you, and take a seat, Hun.” He did just that and Max went to get plates and silverware from the kitchen. Susan looked at him as she opened the containers, “How is he?” she asked earnestly.

“He’s doing even better since you last visited,” he responded as he eyed the condensation bubbles on a lid move, “Much better actually. His motor skills are improving and he’s laughing more. We went outside the other day and watched the birds. The fresh air improved his mood a ton,” Steve smiled at the memory.

“That’s wonderful,” Susan smiled as she listened to him. “I’m glad he’s got a friend like you.”

Steve’s cheeks darkened a little, “He’s a nice friend to have.”

Susan nodded a bit distractedly and then she sat up straighter, “Oh! I’ve started re-doing his bedroom. I patched up the walls,” they both winced at that, “Repainted. All the works,” her smile was hesitant. Like she had a podium to prove too.

“Can I see it?” Steve pointed to the hallway without looking away from her.

She stood up, delighted, “Yes, yes,” she led him down and to a partially chipped door. She opened it and let the door swing by itself with a push. The walls were a pale blue and Billy’s bed stood lowly against the wall with white blankets and pillows. There weren’t any posters or personal belongings. Susan seemed to notice his own observations. “I only kept Neil,” she spoke his name with disgust, “From turning it into his own at home office by suggesting a guest room. I used this to cope guess,” she admitted shamefully.

Steve shrugged and looked at the bed again, sunken lower in the middle edge, “Better than I did. I didn’t leave my bed for weeks,” he looked back at her.

She smiled sadly and patted his shoulder, “Let’s get back. Max has most likely stopped waiting for us by now. I have a hunch it took so long just so I could finally speak to you about him. She’s not very good with words,” she whispered to him with a small smile.” They stopped at the end of the hallway to see Max scooping potato into her mouth unmannerly. “Billy never was either,” she finished.

...

Billy was staring at his lap the next time Steve entered. His eyes were wide and moist, there wasn’t anything surprised in them though. The man looked like his worst fear had just come true.

Steve set down his bag and shuffled close, “What’s wrong?” Billy held up a postcard displaying ‘Hawkins’ in green, cursive writing.

“It’s from my father, he’s back,” Billy didn’t even look up as he held the card to Steve’s chest. He took it from Billy’s trembling hand and read the back. Billy recited for him though, “‘Your boyfriend can’t keep me away.’” Steve stared at Billy and dropped his hand with the card clenched in his fist. “Charming right?” Billy’s eyes were hollow, somehow more broken looking than any of the times they’d talked. And they had exchanged many stories, Steve had lost count of the amount of times Billy had cried. This was something old.

“I’ll find him again,” Steve promised, “This time I won’t let him off so easy.” He kept the hostility he felt away from Billy’s eyes. Didn’t want Billy to have to worry so much about it.

“There’s only one place you can find these types of postcards, Hawkins is usually printed in red. Must be symbolic.” Steve stood up, ready to head out the door as he developed a plan. But he stopped. Billy was looking at him, eyes wide and moist again. The sunlight shun and Billy looked like that of an angel. Steve leaned down and wrapped him up in his arms. “I’ll get him out of here, Bill. I promise this time.” It was the first time Billy pulled him in back. So Steve stayed a moment, not rushing anything even though his mind was half with Billy and half running downstairs to the pay phone.

When Billy was the one to let go, Steve stepped back. “Good luck,” he heard just as he reached the doorway.

He turned around and smiled, preserving, “Thanks!” Like he wasn’t going to go and quite possibly kill Billy’s father. Maybe just severely maim. But Billy’s lips lifted at the corners and his eyes looked more structured, so Steve left with a prominent smile.

He went downstairs to the pay phone and took it off the hook to place in the crook of his neck as he pulled quarters out of his pockets. He dialed. It rang and rang and then there was a connection.

“Hello?” he heard.

Steve took a breath and then dived, “It’s Steve. And I need you to listen to what I have to say. Clear your schedule for the day.”

He sighed, “What is it now?”

“I’m hunting down Hargrove and I need your assistance.”

“Steve, you know he’s in the hosp—“

“Not that one.”

It was quiet for a long time, “You at the hospital?”

“Yep.”

“Have any clue where the bastard is?”

“Yep.” He looked down at the postcard still in his hand, “Meet me at the Roadwood in Marion.”

“I’ll be there, kid,” Hopper cut the line. And Steve went to the car.

...

The desk lady looked very uninterested in Steve as he walked up to the counter, “I’m here to see Neil Hargrove,” he smiled casually and leaned a little against the counter. “Is he here?”

The lady’s gum popped and she leaned forward, searching out a paper with her pencil, “Room 5,” she stated and leaned back again.

Steve’s smile tightened, “Thanks,” he nodded and left back out the door. Stopped by his car to get the weapon. And when he got to the door he knocked and then stood out of the way of the little peephole. The door opened a moment later revealing Hargrove’s pinched and confused, ugly, face. “I thought I told you to leave.”

Neil looked over a bit bewildered and then he scowled, “And then I realized that it’d be idiotic to listen to some teenager.”

Steve continued to look unimpressed, “I’m twenty.”

“Same thing.”

Steve took his bat out from behind his back, “I suggest you get in the room and wait for my friend to get here. Then we’ll deal with you.”

Neil hesitated and Steve rose the bat up threateningly before the man bolted into the room. Forgetting to shut the door. Steve followed him in after spotting Hopper’s truck and waving a signal to him. Inside, Neil had gathered the bedsheets like he was going to capture some sort of animal.

“Now,” Steve began like the good conversationalist he was, “Either you leave today or I deal with you personally.”

Hopper appeared behind him in the doorway, “The walls are soundproof,” he closed the door. “Too many noise complaints, brought business down,” he was beside Steve with a roll of duct tape around his wrist and a crowbar in his hand, “Installed much better stuff.”

Neil backed up to the opposite wall, “This is illegal.”

“And you abuse your son,” Hopper snapped, “So make your decision because our job is to protect this town. And you’re one of the things we get rid of. And that’s either the county border or the ground. Figure that shit out on your own. I don’t play nice with people like you.”

Steve smirked humorlessly, “I warned you,” he mused.

Neil glanced at his suitcase and held his hands up, eyes shifty, “I’ll leave, I’ll leave!” Steve looked at Hopper and was met with the same expression, doubt. And it was further rooted when they both spotted the small pistol badly hidden under a wrinkled shirt.

Steve leveled his bat out and stepped forward, “No you’re not.” He rushed Neil, whacked his leg and got the bat stuck before it ripped out due to the bulky man falling to the ground. He gave a yelp of agony and blood dripped into the carpet slowly. He started crawling to his suitcase but Steve brought the bat down on his back. Neil kept going between the moments Steve checked on Hopper who was standing and watching, crowbar at the ready if needed. When Steve looked back at Neil again he was reaching for the gun. Neil had just gotten it in his grasp when he rose the bat in the air and slammed it down on his head.

Steve stepped back again and sighed, “Now you’re really dead, Hargrove.”

Hopper took him. Backed the truck up and covered him with a tarp. Steve didn’t ask where. Didn’t need to know.

But, just so you know, they never did see Neil Hargrove again.

...

Billy didn’t ask either, not exactly. Steve just walked back in, hair wet from a shower and completely different clothes. He watched him sit down, eyes wide and Steve nodded while he scratched under his jaw through a yawn. But that was it, no great breakout. No yelling, no thanking, nothing about it.

“So,” Steve propped his elbow on top of the arm of the chair and then his chin in his hand, “Any plans for when you get out?”

Billy shrugged and his face was less solemn, “I’m not sure, I’ll probably move out of town. Everyone here thinks I’m dead anyway.”

Steve’s eyes widened, “Uh—“ he grasped the arm and leaned forward, “Max wanted to tell the Party. Did she tell you that? I barely stopped her last night.”

Billy didn’t show anything towards recognition, “She what?”

Steve sat back in the chair again, shoulders sagged tiredly, “We were thinking of letting the others know you’re alive.”

Billy brought a hand up slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Steve.”

“I know,” he put his hands up and bit his tongue as tears surfaced. He was really going to miss Billy Hargrove, wasn’t he? “You’ll probably want to go all the way to,” Steve waved a hand around thoughtfully, “Like, France or something. At least there are no monsters there.”

Billy’s eyes were a little lost and far away, “I can’t speak french.”

Steve looked up quick and then laughed, running a hand through his hair, “New York?”

Billy shrugged, “Probably not...” Billy hiccuped through a shaky breath, “How about you?”

“I’m not smart enough to do any of that,” Steve picked at a loose thread. “I was considering Colorado. Maybe get a degree in teaching art? My aunt always said I had a bit of a talent when it came to a canvas.” He shrugged to himself and looked up to Billy. Fond, glittery eyed Hargrove.

“That’s great,” he whispered and pulled the thin hospital blanket up to his chest. “I’m tired, do you mind shutting the blinds?”

Steve got up and traveled around the room blocking off all the light, “I’ll stay a little longer, ‘kay?”

Billy stared at him for a very long moment, half laying down with his blanket clutched. Steve stayed still with his hands around the stick to close the blinds and looked right back. And then Billy cried.

Steve rushed forward, “Hey, hey, hey,” he sat on the side of the bed and eased Billy against him. “It’s okay,” he rubbed Billy’s back as he sobbed. Each raspy intake of breath like a nail in Steve’s chest. “It’s alright, Billy. You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Steve pressed his head against Billy’s, “Susan will take you in. She’s been working on your old bedroom.” He didn’t mention how it was originally Susan’s grief distraction project for a guest room.

“Really?” Billy said through harsh breaths. Steve nodded against his shoulder. “Sorry,” Billy mumbled into his shoulder, “Guess I just,” he paused and went a little limper, “I guess I just didn’t like hearing that you would be so far away in the,” he put his hands up in some mock, grand gesture, “Foreseeable future we’ve thought up.”

Steve sat back a little so he could see some of Billy and take hold of his hand, “I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone, didn’t I?”

“Huh?” Billy’s arms tightened around him and little and Steve melted like chocolate left in the sun.

“We could leave town together,” Steve offered instead, “We could get an apartment or something in some other small town or a city somewhere.” Billy’s breathing slowly eased back to soft hiccups of intakes as Steve rocked them side to side. Billy let him, let him help in the ways he knew how.

Steve felt a kiss to his cheek, “Colorado sounds nice.” And even if it seemed far away and near inconsiderable, they allowed themselves to hope. To dream something up. Together.

#steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #harringrove #max mayfield #neil hargrove #susan hargrove #tw: nongraphic descriptions of violence #and mentioned death #jim hopper

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