she/they || german || way to old for this shit (32) || Stranger Things addict || bitch for queer HCs || 🏳️🌈 || just shit my rotten brain produced || NOT MY ART!
summary: soulmate au where every mark on your soulmate's skin appears on your own
pairing: steve harrington x billy hargrove
series content warnings: language, period-typical homophobia, implied abuse (neil hargrove), self-doubt (steve), mentions of trauma related to st events
a/n: hi y'all!! big shoutout to @lcvingprentjss who took up the call when i very loudly proclaimed that this part would go unedited because i hated editing my own stuff. he wouldn't stand for it and like a good friend made 45 grammar changes so this thing is good enough for y'all to enjoy 💜
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You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.
Everyone he’s ever known has told him that, at some point. It started when he’d run full speed into a table and knocked over an expensive vase at his grandparents’ house, to which his dad gripped him by the arm so tightly it left red imprints there and told him ‘You can’t be so idiotic here, you have to watch yourself.’ It never really stopped after that. Each time he’d see his parents, as infrequent it was, they’d lob the word at him like it didn’t leave a wound deep enough to fester in his chest. His friends all tossed it carelessly at him too, teachers and coaches and even Nancy had all used it against him, saying it like a simple fact instead of the dagger it was.
But laying there on the couch with Billy fucking Hargrove sprawled out on the other couch just beside it? Damn, did Steve feel like the biggest idiot in town.
What was he doing? The guy had rejected him not once but twice and still, Steve asked him to stay. He told himself it was because there was a heavier look in Billy’s eyes last night, that it looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and all Steve had wanted to do was lift some of that weight for only a moment. Steve told himself it was just one night, and then they could return to the cool indifference they both pretended could exist between them.
The problem with that plan, however, was that Billy Hargrove had no right to look so angelic while asleep. He laid on his back, his shirt discarded on the floor in front of the couch and arm sprawled across his stomach. The other hung loosely over the side of the couch and Steve could only wince at the soreness the other man would feel in his shoulder later. It was the first time Steve saw him so relaxed—Billy looked almost soft like this, completely tension free. And suddenly Steve was imagining what it would be like to run his fingers through those curls spread out around his head and wondered if laying on the other man’s chest while they both slept in late would be as comforting as he thought.
And no. No, it was a dangerous line of thinking because Billy was his soulmate, and the inevitable goodbye would hurt more if Steve allowed himself even a moment to consider what could be. So instead, Steve gathered himself up, stretching out his sore limbs because the couches had been bought for their expensive looks not necessarily with comfort in mind. He walked into the kitchen, set to work making his morning coffee, and began his routine as if there wasn’t anything strange going on around him.
He willed himself to focus on the coffee. Scoop, drop, water, and hit one of the dozens of buttons on the pot until the sound of dripping coffee sounded. It was easier that way, knowing what would happen if he let his resolve slip for even a moment. It was like his mind was tied with a bungee cord back to Billy—like if he didn’t make an active effort to avoid thinking about him, Steve would be snapped right back to the man. It was worse the closer they were, like the tension grew so great that Steve struggled even now not to turn his head to look.
“When’s breakfast ready?”
“Shit!” Steve shouted, grabbing the first thing he could find that could pass for a weapon and spinning around. His heart raced as his brain screamed danger, but the only sight that greeted him now was a more-than-slightly amused Billy Hargrove. His eyebrows were raised, blue eyes staring at the wooden spoon held with a white-knuckled grip in Steve’s hand.
“Didn’t know you were so jumpy, princess.”
“Fuck you,” Steve spat out on instinct, practically tossing the spoon back onto the counter as his breathing began to return to an even kilter. The last thing he wanted to do was give Billy anything else he could use against him later—and this, this perpetual fear that there was something lurking in the shadows of his house would be the hardest to explain away.
“Only in your dreams,” Billy winked before leaning slightly to the right to peer over Steve’s shoulder.
“I’m not making breakfast.” Steve preferred to address the first comment rather than the last, hoping the heat on his cheeks would look more like anger than what it really was. He focused on pouring coffee into his favorite mug, pouring enough creamer that it looked more like chocolate milk than coffee. “You can do it yourself,” Steve tossed out off-handedly before heading outside by the pool.
The pool was covered at this point in the year, and Steve found that this was the only way he could sit by it. Before, all he could do was stare at the diving board and imagine the last moments of fear that Barb must have experienced before she died—before that thing with its flower jaw grabbed her.
The concrete was cold, stinging Steve’s skin even through his sweatpants. He wouldn’t be able to sit out there for long, but the chill was enough to remind him that he was alive, that this wasn’t all just a terrible dream. Sometimes it was hard to believe everything Steve had experienced, and sometimes he wondered if he’d been dragged into that nightmare dimension along with Barb—if this was his penance for all the wrong, he’d done over the years.
So, he sat outside in the bitter Indiana winter with little to protect him but his Hawkins basketball team sweatpants and a t-shirt he’d found in the bottom of his closet. It was easier to deal with this, the stinging cold and aching loss for a girl he never really knew, than what was still inside. Steve knew if he turned his head, he’d be able to see into the kitchen clearly, and would see Billy making coffee and making himself at home in the Harrington’s living room. He also knew he’d eventually have to go back inside to face him, to talk about just what Billy intended to do by coming over here last night and why he was still around.
But for now, he could sit and watch the sun begin its sluggish trek across the sky, breath curling and mixing with the steam from his coffee.
“Do you have a death wish I should know about, Harrington?” Billy called out some minutes later, and Steve was startled to realize that he’d been so quiet that Billy was already in the process of sitting down beside him. How had he not noticed his appearance?
Steve scoffed at that, glancing at Billy only quick enough to see him with Steve’s winter coat wrapped around his shoulders. “Do you want an honest answer to that?” Billy’s eyes widened a little and any other time Steve might’ve relished in being able to catch him off-guard. For now, though, he shook his head and added, “No, of course not.”
“Then can we get inside already? It’s fucking cold out here.”
“I didn’t ask you to come out here,” Steve returned quickly, fingers gripping tighter around his coffee mug. “Being out here helps me think.”
“Have a lot to think about lately?”
“You could say that” Steve answered, barely cracking a smile as he looked at Billy. The other man was already looking at him, blue eyes searching his face for something . It was an intense look like somewhere in Steve’s expression Billy could find the answer to all his problems and, in a way, he could.
His mother used to tell him stories about soulmates late at night, about how it was the most wondrous idea that the world had created for them. She told Steve all about how soulmates were drawn to one another in a way no scientist could figure out, in a way that humans simply weren’t meant to understand. She talked about how when, eventually, Steve found his soulmate it would be hard to stay away. It was possible, but it always felt like something was missing, like you’d loaned out a piece of your heart and never got it back.
Steve used to wonder how she could talk about that so easily until he idly doodled a sailboat on her arm when he was nine and didn’t see one reflected on his dad. He knew they’d married for reputation and stability, knew that they always intended for their future kids to have as easy a life as possible. He just never thought they’d be willing to sacrifice true love for it all, either.
Sometimes he wondered if soulmates were bullshit. Sure, he could see everything happening to this other person who lived across the country, but did that really mean they were made for each other—perfect complements to a whole? It was worse in the days after the fight, when he watched his bruises heal and wondered how it was possible that he and his soulmate could hate each other so much they’d beaten each other. Maybe it was just him; maybe Steve was broken in more ways than his parents could have ever imagined. Maybe he was the idiot who still clung to this idea of soulmates when it would be safer, easier to find someone else like his parents had.
“What are we doing here?” Steve finally sighed, slamming back the rest of his coffee, and setting the mug down with more force than he initially intended, wincing at the little ‘cling’ of the ceramic against concrete.
“You’re the one who’s sitting outside in December, you tell me.”
“No! Fuck , I just—” Steve hissed out, hands going to his hair as if pulling on it might bring an answer, he could use to explain any of this. “What is this? You, being here. Acting all, like we didn’t— fuck !”
“That’s some nasty language for a princess.”
“Could you be serious for one second? Are you capable of that or do you just not give a shit about anything?” Steve snapped, and he felt pleased when Billy at least had the sense to look a little sheepish about it.
“I give a shit about this,” Billy spoke, practically spitting the words between them. His eyebrows had gathered, that fire that used to scare Steve reigniting in his eyes. “You’re putting too much fucking pressure on it.”
“Too much pressure? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I shouldn’t try to make it work with my so—”
“There, that word. Stop fucking calling us that.” Billy pointed a finger at Steve, so close it almost jabbed right into his chest.
“But...we are .”
“I’m aware, Harrington,” Billy sighed, turning his head away like he was done with the conversation. He looked forward, eyes roaming the tree line at the far edge of the backyard. His jaw worked tightly like he was clenching and unclenching to grate his teeth together. “You ever think about how much pressure that is? Why can’t we just, do this ?” Billy gestured between them with that same finger that had harshly pointed at him.
Steve knew what he was doing. Or rather, he very much didn’t but he was aware of that, too. Everyone had built up this idea of meeting his soulmate in his head and this was not even close to how he’d pictured it. He’d imagined traveling to California the second he graduated, tracing that purple ink back to a beach somewhere, and his soulmate would smile and hug him like he’d been the missing piece in the boy’s life. This wasn’t that, but it also wasn’t Billy standing in the school parking lot telling him that none of it mattered, that he didn’t matter. In some strange way only Billy himself could understand, he was trying .
So, either Steve was an idiot for giving him another chance, or this was just how it was meant to be all along. Since he couldn’t even figure out why the universe decided to pair him with Billy, Steve wouldn’t bother trying to think about that now. Instead, he did the only thing he could think to do at that moment.
“Hi, I’m Steve Harrington,” he introduced, sticking his hand out between them for a handshake.
Billy raised a brow, looking between the extended hand and Steve’s face a few times before settling on, “Were you dropped as a baby or something?”
“C’mon, man, I’m starting over,” Steve practically whined, shaking his hand a little in the air to pull Billy’s attention back to it. “None of that other shit happened, okay? You didn’t disappear for years, I didn’t push so hard, and we never fought. We never said that word, we can just be...friends.”
“What, you wanna have sleepovers and braid each other’s hair?”
“I mean, if you’re into that I can probably make it happen.”
Steve watched the moment Billy resigned himself to this. He could see his jaw tightened, watched as his eyes strangely softened as he turned back to face Steve. He gripped Steve’s hand tight, giving it a shake before saying, “Billy Hargrove. Now can we please go inside and eat the fucking breakfast I cooked? It’s too fucking cold for this.”
“You—” It was like he could feel his brain stuttering, skipping like a record as he fought to process what was said. “You cooked breakfast?”
“Don’t read that much into it, pretty boy. I was hungry,” Billy returned simply, standing up and holding his hand out to pull Steve up too. It was only upon moving that Steve realized just how frozen to the bone he was, and it really was a good thing that Billy stuck around otherwise he would’ve spent all morning out there like this.
“Right, but. You can cook?” Steve continued pushing, following Billy back into the kitchen where a mini feast of eggs, bacon, and a small stack of pancakes awaited them.
It was such a small detail, but one that managed to tear down the old image he had of Billy quite effectively. Because the Billy he knew from before would never know how to cook, would never take the time to cook here. The Billy from before would’ve been out of here at the crack of dawn before Steve had even woken up.
“Yeah, my mom taught me when she was around,” Billy answered, tossing himself into a seat at the table and digging into the already-cooling breakfast. “Look, it’s not a big fuckin’ deal, alright? Now eat before it gets cold.”
Steve sat down slowly, watching Billy as if making sure this wasn’t a trick. When the other man didn’t even look up from his food, Steve finally relaxed into his seat and scooped up his share of the breakfast.
From the first bite, Steve knew he was fucked. “Oh fuck,” he practically moaned, cheeks heating up at how sinful he sounded over eggs . “It’s so good, really.”
“It’s just breakfast,” Billy pointed out, though Steve caught the glimmer of something resembling amusement in his eyes and the narrow smile ghosting across his lips. “It’s nothing special.”
“It’s Heaven on a plate, Billy,” Steve groaned around another giant mouthful. It had been ages since he’d had a home cooked meal ever since his parents left him alone, too young to really teach him how to cook. And he supposed he could have figured it out on his own, but what was the point when he could just grab something easy and reheat it? “You can stay as long as you want if you promise to keep cooking.”
“You’re being serious right now?” Billy seemed a little apprehensive, fingers twirling his fork around and choosing to watch Steve eat instead of digging in himself. There was a strange vulnerability in his face like he’d forgotten to put up that wall between him and the rest of the world for a moment.
“About which part?”
Billy sighed. “I don’t know, all of it, I guess.”
Steve finally set down his own fork, watching Billy watch him and wondering how badly the party would yell at him when they inevitably found out about this. “I don’t cook.”
“Clearly. Your maids not do a good enough job serving you dinner?”
“It’s not—I don’t have maids, okay? It’s just me, here. It has been for years, so yeah, I forgot how good this is,” Steve huffed, looking away when he saw a flash of something that looked eerily too much like sympathy in Billy’s eyes. Because they may be trying to start over, but there was no fucking way he’d let Billy Hargrove feel bad for him. “So yeah, if you wanted to stay it’s not like anyone would catch you here.”
The pair stared at each other then, neither of them saying anything for what felt like hours to Steve. He waited, wondering if inviting Billy to stay over winter break was crossing some invisible line Billy had drawn between them or if this was exactly what they’d needed. Would this result in another plate over his head? Just as Steve was beginning to brace himself, feet digging a little into the wood floor in a ghost of ‘plant your feet, Harrington,’ Billy was sighing and standing up.
“Let me go pack a bag. Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll be back later today.”
OOOH that's a good fic title 👀 here's a bit of what the vibe would be in my mind...
send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it
--
"it's not that bad."
the exasperated look billy sent his way was almost funny, if steve wasn't seeing double of that same look. "you were tortured and interrogated in a secret russian base and the only thing you have to say is that 'it's not that bad'?"
"well when you put it that way i sound stupid," steve tried to joke, though knew as soon as the words left his lips that billy wouldn't find it funny. not at all, in fact, because he'd been working hard to convince steve that he wasn't an idiot like everyone had told him for years.
"not stupid," billy murmured while his hand grazed over a spot on steve's face that felt sticky with blood. "reckless, but not stupid."
"reckless? i'm not the one who thought entering hand-to-hand combat with the mind flayer was the best way to distract it," steve pointed out, hands automatically rubbing over billy's sides as though he was amazed there were no wounds there. and well, he was, because by all accounts no one should have been able to fight off that thing for as long as billy did, but of course his reckless metal boyfriend managed.
"at least i didn't think it was a great plan to infiltrate a russian base underneath the mall with nothing but a sailor suit and a couple of preteens."
"hey, don't forget robin."
"right, and a lesbian." billy huffed out a laugh, a small smile barely breaking through the worry on his expression. steve was sure his face mirrored that look, showed just how terrified he'd been when billy stepped back from el, when he shouted and charged the mind flayer. he was sure that was how billy felt when he'd gotten his first good look at steve since being taken over, somehow seeing more blood and bruising than when they'd fought last year. "you scared me."
"i thought billy hargrove didn't get scared," steve joked, trying to keep the mood as light as possible so he didn't think about what had happened to him that night, what could have happened to both of them.
"i do when it's you." and that, well. that was the closest to the words 'i love you' that steve had gotten in days. it made his heart soar and made the painful pulsing in his face just a little further away because billy's hands were on him, wiping away the blood and making everything a little better for now. "i do when it's you, steve."
there weren't words. steve was usually good with them, had an overabundance of them to pick and choose from in any given situation but here he was now, staring at his equally battered boyfriend wondering how each word had been stolen from him.
so instead he kissed him. he surged forward, ignoring the metallic taste of blood pressed between them because he had his boyfriend back, finally. and neither of them were okay, and they would have to talk about both of their reckless decisions that night but for now, they could settle for holding onto each others' hearts for safekeeping.
A/N: yep, here I am in the Eddie Munson pit as well. anyway:
WARNINGS: alcohol, mentions of drugs, some heavy making out, wandering hands, tension, mutual pining.
gif: @eivorswolfsmal
There’s a nervousness about you when you think about tonight. It’s no special occasion, yet your stomach churns at the thought and your pulse increases.
You love hanging out with Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie.
Eddie’s mother left on his 12th birthday, he remembered 3 things about her. She’d come home with hickeys scattered across her neck every night, she smelled like cigarette smoke, and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, in his eyes, at least.
Her hair was dark brown like his, with the same curls, eventually though, she bleached it blonde.
“It’s trendy, Eds! And doesn’t it make mommy look pretty?”
It did, or he told himself that. He didn’t know at the time, but she was just trying to look more young, even with blonde hair though, she had the same eyes as her son, Wayne would tell Eddie that all the time, or at least he use to, one night, when his mother was late for work. His dad came home, angrier then usual, he asked if the boy had seen his mother, Eddie said no. Because he hadn’t, if he did, he would’ve been hugging her leg and not leaving her for a second, like he always did. “You’re lying to me boy. I know you know where that whore is.”
Whore.
Eddie didn’t like that word, not at all, it made his heart hurt. Why would somebody call such a sweetheart of a woman that? Eventually, after his father went straight to sleep, to tired from yelling at his son and drunk from all the whiskey he drank prior, Eddie’s mother stumbled through the door. With even more hickeys then what she had when she left, and with the strong stench of weed. She cried that night. He wasn’t sure why, but he remembers little tears running down his plump cheeks too, she was tired; she would tell him, tired of how she was treated, tired of her husband. Eddie, who was only 6, simply blinked at her. He didn’t understand why she’d be tired, didn’t she love his father? And didn’t he love her the same?
That night happened every night until he was 12, his father would yell at him, his mother would come home high, drunk, and tired, and would cry to him. And he soon started feeling like an adult, much sooner then he should’ve.
One night though, his mother didn’t stumble through the door, not that night, not the next night, or ever. His father was upset, really upset, and eventually, he left too, not even telling Eddie where he would go.
Eddie soon got news of his mother passing away, drug overdose, the priest told him at the funeral, after giving him the side eye for not even dressing properly for his mothers death, but how could he have known what to look like for a funeral of all things? His mother usually dressed him, but she wasn’t around anymore.
Wayne took Eddie in that night, neither of them discuss Mr or Mrs Munson. And perhaps that’s for the better.
Yet, when Eddie was on the ground, about to die from all the bites the demobats left, he thought, ‘maybe I’ll see her again.’ But he didn’t, he thought he did for awhile, that she finally came home. That he was finally with her. That he was reunited with his mother.
But then he woke up, right next to lovers lake again, and not knowing what else to do. He cried, he curled up in a ball and sobbed his heart out. Something he hadn’t let himself do in awhile, Eddie Munson never wanted to be revived, but if he had to pretend he wanted to be, then he would act like it was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Okay, please imagine:
Dustins Mum started dating someone and he doesnt know who it it.
Hes suspicious of that stranger. Is he a cool dude? Does he treat his mother right? and why the fuck wont she tell him who it is?!
Is it a married man?! Someone from outta town and they'll move?! Will he loose all of his friends because of a man, he doesnt know?!
Weeks go by, dustin gets more and more irritated the longer he doesn't know who it is and finally one day Claudia Henderson wants him to meet him!
Dustin is ready to grill him, to get every little information out of him, he wants to know and probably use against him one day. He wants to fucking know who the fuck takes his mother that many evenings away from him!
The doorbell rang, dustin is faster than his mother, rips the door open and before him stood.. Wayne Munson. Eddies uncle, nervous as hell, because he's meeting the son of his girlfriend.
And dustin is THRILLED!
"EDDIES GONNA BE MY BROTHER" is his new mantra and he loves it
Steddie with vampire!Eddie and werewolf!Steve. Steve is usually a dangerous rabid beast on the full moon. But with Eddie he's an eager to please murder puppy.
Maybe he escapes from wherever he locks himself up and brings Eddie a dead animal? Or Eddie is there for some reason and Steve responds to him positively?
I fucking love ALL of this so much. Okay, I think Steve bringing Eddie something dead is HILARIOUS.
Eddie is just minding his own business. He was alone - for now. His new friend (for lack of a better word) was caged up for the full moon tonight and warned Eddie to "just stay away until I call you, okay" to which Eddie reluctantly agreed, even though he was desperately curious to see what Steve looked like in wolf form. He was assured it wasn't anything special - mostly gory and gross - something Eddie knew plenty about. But he also respected the dog-man's privacy so here he sat, flipping through the TV channels, unimpressed with each option that passed by.
Then he smelled it.
Something...bloody. And definitely dead. It was sudden and very pungent as if a dead body was rolled right into the living room. Eddie smelled himself first; it could have been him but he had to make sure. Then he heard a loud BAP! against the back door, making him jump a little. Quickly turning the TV off, he stayed still for a moment in hopes to hear the noise again. Maybe he would get some excitement after all.
After a few moments of silence, he stood up and slowly moved to the back door, flexing his fingers instinctively, the fangs slowly descending through the gums. His tongue ran over them slowly as he reached out his hand, curling it around the door handle. Whoever, or whatever, was behind that door was about to get the surprise of their fucking life. Quickly, he threw open the door, bracing himself.
But nothing and no one was there. Except for a very dead, very fat, fluffy, white cat laying on the door mat, nearly ripped to shreds and stained red from the blood.
"What...in the actual...fuck?" Eddie hissed in disgust.
He stepped around the cat and out into the yard, eyes searching around wildly. He would have missed it, had he not been able to see in the dark. In the furthest corner of the yard, Eddie spotted two glowing, yellow eyes staring at him. He froze. Whatever it was, it already saw him so there was no use in trying to run back inside. The idea was laughable anyway; Eddie the Human would have run away but Eddie the vampire was grounding himself, ready to spring into attack mode at any moment.
The creature moved forward slowly, and right when Eddie thought it was going to jump, the thing came into the light and almost immediately, Eddie realized - .
"Steve?"
He was ginormous. Even on all fours, Steve was nearly eye-to-eye with Eddie, his fur giving the illusion of being much bigger. The long, razor-sharp claws could have shredded anyone that got in his way and Eddie imagined a quick flash of Steve tearing his head clean off and eating it for dinner. The eyes though, those were Steve's. And despite the initial shock of seeing Steve like this, Eddie noticed that he was quite calm and...wagging his tail?
"Uh...Steve? What are you...did you put that fucking cat on my doorstep?"
Eddie could have sworn he saw him nod his head. Then Steve, or Wolf-Steve, sat down on his haunches and a long, slobbery tongue came lolling out of his mouth, a triumphant and very distinct smile opening up his wide maw, revealing terrifyingly sharp teeth.
He scoffed, "Why are you even here? How did you get out?" Then he remembered that Steve the Werewolf couldn't answer like this so he sighed, planting his hands on his hips. Their eyes met for a moment and Eddie, being the curious and probably stupid man that he was, held out a hand toward Steve who wasted no time in pressing his furry forehead to it.
"Good...boy? I guess?" It felt weird referring to a man like he would a dog, but it felt like the only appropriate response. He gently ran his fingers through the surprisingly soft fur, giving a little scratch to his ear. "Not really sure what to do with you because you are not coming in my house like this." Eddie's other hand came up to sink into the hair below his jaw and Steve stepped closer, leaning into the pets with a deep sigh through his nose.
"Steve the Werewolf busting out of his cage to bring me a nasty-ass cat." He smirked, "How romantic."
I love the idea of everyone living and going back to high school with their new Scary Dog privileges in the form of Billy coming back with them.
Billy whose funeral half the women of Hawkins attended a year ago that now doesn’t speak to any of them. Billy who no longer has his loud Camaro but instead is dropped off and picked up everyday with his sister Max and Robin Buckley by Steve Harrington of all people.
Billy who gets into a bloody fistfight with Jason after Jason goes after Eddie for “stealing” Chrissy from him. It’s Eddie who pulls Billy off Jason even with his own busted lip from Jason’s first swing. But it’s Chrissy who stands over Jason and tells him if he tries that again they won’t stop Billy next time.
None of Lucas’s old basketball friends will go anywhere near him even though in their eyes he betrayed them for Eddie because they all know Lucas started dating Billy’s little sister again and they’re not sure if they’re more afraid of Billy coming to Lucas’s defense or Max. Lucas still plays though just to spite them all because the town now considers him a hero to the team. But the players don’t do anything because every game you can see all of Lucas’s friends plus Steve and Billy sitting next to the Sinclairs while Erica simultaneously rips apart every one of Lucas’s moves while cheering him on louder than anyone else does.
Someone trips Dustin in the hallway and somehow they end up on their ass on the tiled floor watching a blond mullet walk away while Dustin giggles and runs after him.
They find out he’s a much better tutor than Nancy or Robin despite those two being the smartest in the group and now he’s solely responsible for ensuring Eddie’s graduation and pulling up Eleven’s failing math scores.
Billy whose created his own game of flipping off Jonathan anytime he sees him just for fun but who is the only person who is able to talk to Will about his love life in a way that has Will actually feeling hopeful about what his future could hold.
Billy who “hates” everyone, who doesn’t want to listen to Dustin and Robin’s long winded conversations, who makes fun of both the Wheeler’s like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, who gives Eddie shit about his musical taste and hits on Chrissy like he’s planning to swipe her out from under Eddie’s nose despite all of them knowing Billy’s spent more nights at Steve’s house since he got back than Max’s. But a Billy who doesn’t go anywhere. He can only give them that much shit because he sits with them at lunch, studies with them after school, and supervises El’s trips out of the house.
Just Billy whose presence alone protects all of them but who also subtly goes out of his way to keep all of them happy and healthy. He complains while the girls braid his hair, and calls everyone nerds while still sitting down with the D&D character created for him to play a game he doesn’t understand.
They know he’s not all bark and no bite, his bites are ruthless and brutal, and never aimed at them. Scary Dog privileges for all 😌
summary: soulmate au where every mark on your soulmate's skin appears on your own
pairing: steve harrington x billy hargrove
series content warnings: language, period-typical homophobia, implied abuse (neil hargrove)
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When Billy was ten, he nearly drowned.
It was the first time he’d gone surfing without his mother there, no one standing on the shore cheering when he stood up or waiting ready to call for help if something went wrong. It wasn’t the largest wave he’d ever ridden—not even close—but it had been the first time he looked over with a wide grin only to see an empty beach staring back at him. His feet slipped on the board and suddenly he was tumbling under the current.
The first thing his instructor taught him years before was what to do if he got caught under a wave. Hold your breath, stay calm, and try not to fight it lest it pulls you further down. Don’t expend unnecessary energy, just grab the ankle tether and climb your way back to safety as soon as you can.
Except, when the moment it came to put that training to action, Billy did none of that. The shock of the slip knocked all the breath from his lungs. The wave tumbled him around, smacking his body against the rocks so harshly Billy knew there’d be scrapes and bruises if he made it out okay. He panicked, and if it wasn’t for the lifeguard that was on duty at that beach, he was sure he would have died.
Even through everything his dad put him through, the feeling of water rushing in where air should have been was the most painful thing Billy had ever experienced. Even thinking about it made him shudder, made him want to make sure no one ever experienced such a fear-inducing feeling ever again.
Being around Steve Harrington felt a lot like drowning, these days.
That night in November had already been doomed to be one of the worst he’d had in a while, and yet somehow it beat all expectations by becoming one of the worst days of his entire fucking life.
His dad had threatened him, had laid down the expectations for him clearly: find Max, bring her home from wherever the fuck she was hiding out, or else. Considering how it used to be, his dad had been on decent behavior ever since moving to bumfuck Indiana. It was like the man had actually believed in the idea of a fresh start for them, and though the slaps and rough grips never faded to memory the bruises mostly did. Billy would do anything to make sure that memory never came back to real-life, even if it meant threatening all of Max’s new friends.
Maybe especially then, because she never had to know the fear of Neil’s hand. Sure, part of that was on Billy, purposefully sticking around when he could have run away years ago if only out of fear that Neil would find a new target in a little girl who definitely didn’t deserve it, in the same way his anger had been brought down on Billy when his mother left them. But even then, Max could get away with shit that Billy would have been buried in the ground for doing long ago. And maybe deep down, it angered Billy. It wasn’t fair, was it? It wasn’t fair that Max got to spend so much time with her friends while Billy spent his night out in the cold driving aimlessly around looking for where she’d snuck off to.
And when he found her with King Steve Harrington? Billy just about saw red.
He’d heard the rumors. Of course, he had—this was King Steve, the guy who had once been at the top of the school’s rankings in terms of popularity. He’d heard all about how Harrington had slept with just about every girl at Hawkins High, including prim and proper Nancy Wheeler. Tommy had told him all about how Harrington brought those girls out to some secret spot in the woods, would romance them, would eventually bring them back to the Harrington fucking Mansion for the opposite of a restful night.
Then there was Max, his fucking sister, peeking out of the window of a house in the middle of nowhere with this guy. This guy who was lying to Billy’s face, who didn’t even try to hide how shifty he was being. And when Billy pushed past him to find there were a handful of other guys in the house with her?
Billy was sure he would’ve killed someone that night if Max hadn’t drugged him. It would’ve been Harrington, too. The second he smashed a ceramic plate over the other guy’s head, it was over. It was like he’d gone into a trance, watching the way red blossomed under his fists with dark beauty. One after the other, smack after crunch after fucking whimper. None of the scared shouts from the kids reached his ears, nothing at all sounded over the roaring in his head because he had fucking King Steve on his back, helpless and scared.
Billy wondered only briefly if Steve Harrington had ever actually felt so helpless before.
Then a needle was sticking out of Billy’s neck, flooding his body with instant numbness. His limbs grew heavy and it was impossible to stay upright. He flopped onto his back and watching Max hold that bat over him reminded him of why he’d attacked Steve so brutally in the first place, why it felt so strange to be the one with fists flying—Billy was terrifyingly too used to being helpless.
And as the world faded to black around him, Billy remembered the shock breaking through Harrington’s pained expression when he’d wailed on him, remembered the distant sound of that fucking curly-haired dork saying, “His face looks just like Steve’s.”
It sounded so faded and warped from whatever was in that syringe that he wasn’t all too sure it was real when he reawoke a couple of hours later. But then he’d walked home—muttering to himself that Max would pay if his car was damaged, though knowing deep down she never really would—and caught a glimpse of his face in his bedroom mirror.
Harrington was a lot of things, but a good fighter was not one of them. He’d put up an okay defense but really he was no match for the power Billy had been able to throw into each and every strike. In other words, there was absolutely no explanation for the bruises and cuts that littered his face.
No explanation, that is, other than the one that sent Billy reeling toward the bathroom, dropping to his knees and releasing the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
He’d tried to protect his soulmate for years. Ever since he was seven and his mother had whispered those words to him. Don’t tell your father about this, make sure he never knows. People had told him that finding your soulmate was meant to be the best moment of your life, that being able to see what marked their skin was nothing short of miraculous and completing. Instead, Billy had to spend his life running from that person, ignoring him and hurting him in every way except physically to try to spare him from his dad. He knew even at seven that if his dad ever found out, his soulmate wouldn’t live another day.
The only saving grace to Billy was that it was clear his soulmate hadn’t lived in California, that he was somewhere untouchable to Neil. All he had to do was not get caught talking to him. He would be safe, wherever he was, as long as Billy didn’t try to find him.
But after everything, after so many years of holding back everything he wanted to say to his soulmate, his person got hurt anyway.
Even worse, it didn’t even take Neil finding out for his worst nightmare to come true. No, as Billy pulled his knees closer to his chest as he leaned against the tub of the bathroom, he was hit with a haunting thought.
Billy had done nothing but hurt his soulmate since that first day when they were seven.
Billy was thankful to have a week without Harrington at school.
The first day had nearly sent Billy into a tailspin—had Steve really been so hurt that he couldn’t make it to school? Was he okay? Was he alive? That is, until Tommy asked what happened to his face and Billy was reminded that he knew, startlingly, how badly hurt Harrington was.
“You should see the other guy,” Billy chuckled to Tommy, turning to face inside his locker before his carefully neutral expression cracked at the thought.
Maybe it was better this way, so no one would notice how oddly similar their injuries really were.
But then the days dragged on and Harrington still wasn’t there. At lunch, he saw the open place where the boy normally sat and he saw the way Wheeler and Byers openly stared at him, glaring in a way that had him wondering if they knew more than they should about the depth of that night’s events.
Billy would still rather sit under their knowing stares, knowing that he’d hurt his soulmate in the way he swore he never would, than be at home.
“You know you don’t have to knock,” Billy shouted out when a hesitant rap sounded on his bedroom door. He was sitting on the ground, back pressed to his closet as he tried to focus on homework. None of that shit seemed to matter compared to what else was going on though, especially since winter break was looming ever closer.
“It still feels right,” Max practically whispered after undoing the lock outside his door and swinging it open.
Because that had been the punishment for not bringing Max home that night, a lock was installed on the outside of his door. The rules had been clear—come home, get in his room, and someone will make sure he stayed there until his dad decided it was acceptable for him to leave the room.
There was too much there for Billy to even begin to consider how it made him feel, locked in here like a fucking dog.
“What do you want, shitbird?”
Max was hesitant for probably the first time in her life. She clung to the doorway, hand still on the doorknob like she considered just pulling it tight and relatching the lock. Her face changed though and in one hurried movement, she was shutting the door and walking closer to him, arms crossed over her chest in some false show of confidence.
“Steve’s going back to school Monday, Dustin told me so,” she said.
“Why do I care about Harrington’s truancy?” Billy asked, though couldn’t help the sudden buzzing in his chest at the thought. How would he handle this now? How could he possibly come up with the perfect solution to all of this in just the weekend?
“I’m not stupid, you know,” Max snapped, rolling her blue eyes in a way that made Billy want to scream at her, wanted to hurl enough nasty words at her that she’d leave. But when he parted his lips, the memory of her bringing that bat down far too close to him silenced any of the planned words. “He’s really hurt. He’s been putting on a brave face for us but he’s really messed up about all this. You should talk to him.”
“You should think about telling me what to do,” Billy instinctively snapped. “Get out.”
Max watched him for a moment, maybe waiting for the anger to fade and an apology to come. When none of that happened, though, she sighed and headed back to his door. “Neil’s not coming back until tomorrow. I’m not locking this shit.”
A lazily thrown sock hit the back of the door as she closed it behind her.
The conversation was supposed to go very differently, in Billy’s defense.
He’d spent all weekend going through the options, running through what was supposed to happen and how he could best spare his soulmate from further harm. He would explain the absences for years at a time, would explain why he couldn’t risk words on skin anymore, would explain everything that it took to convince Harrington that this was messier than he deserved.
But then Harrington turned and every ounce of air in Billy’s chest vacated with a harsh slam. He’d seen his own face, of course, and knew what was there should also be reflected on Steve’s. But this was the first time he’d seen the damage he’d inflicted on Harrington, on his soulmate, and it sent the vice grip on his heart squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until he was sure he’d pass out on the spot.
That was his soulmate’s face that was bruised and swollen. It had healed considerably in the span of a week but Billy could recognize the pain lingering in Harrington’s eyes like he was trying not to show anyone else around him just how hurt he was. But Billy knew. Billy knew because he’d practiced that look for years, he knew because he was the one who caused it on Harrington this time.
So instead of every confession Billy had hanging at his lips, the worst possible words slipped out. “We have nothing to talk about.”
Soulmate. Soulmate. Soulmate. Yours, the one person you were never supposed to hurt. You’re going to ruin him like Neil destroyed your mo—
“We’re nothing to each other. Let’s keep it that way, Harrington.”
He couldn’t do this. So Billy hurried to the one escape he knew would work. Neil would kill him for missing a day of school but at this point the slam of fists in his ribs would be impossibly better than seeing the clear shock and hurt in Harrington’s eyes as Billy discarded him so cruelly.
It’s for the best, pretty boy, it’s for your own good, please believe me.
But for all the brave faces Billy put on, he still couldn’t completely walk away from Steve. It haunted him, seeing that crumbling of the other man’s expression as those words fell between them. It left him awake at night, wondering if there was ever a time, later down the road when Neil wasn’t so much a threat, that Harrington could forgive him.
The first time he redrew that heart, it was an honest-to-God accident. It was a Friday night and everyone else was going to a party at Tina’s. Instead, he was stuck in his bedroom locked from the outside in, and sure he could have snuck out the window but it wouldn’t have been worth it. All his homework was done and Billy was bored.
It was just a doodle. He’d grabbed the purple pen he kept hidden deep in his backpack (the one he rarely, if ever, actually took to school) and drew on his hip. It was comforting, seeing the shape there reflected back at him.
Except, when a few minutes passed and there was no return the weight of what he’d done smacked him in the chest. Billy panicked, wondering if he should wipe it off or simply deal with the consequences tomorrow. Maybe that would be best, to let Harrington yell and scream at him, maybe even throw a few punches if it was bad enough.
But then tomorrow came and Harrington never said a word. He never even looked at Billy, actually.
So he continued. He continued drawing and somewhere along the way it began to feel as though he hadn’t lost anything at all. His soulmate was just busy, he was just trying to hide what they had between them. He hadn’t thrown away his soulmate, hadn’t hurt him in every single way possible. He could have him back, someday.
It was easier over winter break.
The rest of them were traveling a lot, going to visit Susan’s family out west. Neil had made it clear that Billy wasn’t going, that he didn’t want to embarrass himself with his queer son.
It stung, but ultimately Billy couldn’t be more pleased. It meant he had a couple of weeks to himself, a handful of days of complete freedom.
And he knew just what he wanted to do with it.
The second Neil’s car was pulling out of the drive, so was the Camaro. Billy had spent all night trying to get ready, trying to find some outfit that could possibly help him convince his soulmate of his grand plan. Now, he made his way to the other side of town going the speed limit for the first time since moving there, hands shaking at the thought of what was to come.
Billy knew the most likely outcome was getting a door shut in his face. After all the fists he’d thrown, all the harsh words and ‘mind games’ as Harrington had called them, there was absolutely no reason Harrington should trust him now. He just hoped being soulmates was enough to give him a chance.
Billy didn’t know where the Harringtons lived exactly, but he knew from hearing Max talk as well as the rest of the school that the Harringtons ruled this town. They had the best of everything, including the largest house. And pulling onto the wealthiest street Billy knew of, it wasn’t hard to pick it out.
“Mansion wasn’t an exaggeration,” Billy mumbled under his breath, taking a moment to sit in his car and consider what the fuck he was actually doing. There was still time to turn on his car again, to pull out of the long driveway and pretend this never happened.
Instead, Billy got out of the car, making his way up to the front door with hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets. It looked like every light was on in the house, but the only car he saw around was Steve’s BMW. He knew the parents weren’t often around, just based on how Max talked about hanging around there so often lately. It all seemed too strange, honestly.
“Henderson, I’m telling you I do—oh.” That familiar voice immediately began ranting as soon as the front door opened, though cut off abruptly when Harrington realized who was standing there. Billy watched as his expression shuttered, eyes widening before narrowing again, eyebrows dipped in confusion. “Is Max okay?”
“What? Why wouldn’t she be?” Billy retorted, confused at the immediate mention of his step-sister. “She wasn’t kidding, you really are a god damn mother hen, aren’t you, Harrington?”
“Is there a reason you’re here?” Harrington sighed, shoulders dropping to look even more resigned to be there. Billy looked over every inch of Harrington’s face, trying to find some evidence that he wasn’t completely unwanted.
It was December, so any trace of the fight was now long gone. Instead, it seemed to be replaced by sheer exhaustion. Deep circles clung to the undersides of Harrington’s eyes, and his hair wasn’t nearly as perfectly styled as normal. Logic might have told him that it was because it was the middle of the night, but it looked more than that, more bone-deep.
“You mean other than being soulmates?”
That properly shocked Harrington. The guy’s perfect fucking lips even dropped open partly, eyes widened impossibly far. He just watched Billy, almost waiting to see if this was some cruel joke or not. Then the exact thing Billy didn’t want to see happen unfolded before him. His expression closed off as Harrington actually scoffed.
“Last I checked, we were nothing to each other,” Harrington snapped, hands going to his hips and gripping tightly there as if to keep his hands from doing anything else he’d regret later.
“You’re gonna hold onto that forever, aren’t you?” Billy protested, throwing his own hands up like he couldn’t believe Harrington actually had the gall to do so when really, he would’ve expected nothing less. “I didn’t mean it like that, okay?”
“How else was I supposed to take it?” Steve shouted, “You could’ve said anything else and it would’ve been better!”
“I already fucking know that!” Billy yelled back, wondering why his soulmate couldn’t have been someone a little even-tempered. Even from the beginning Harrington had gotten on his nerves and had caused a reaction out of him unlike anyone else ever had. Maybe he should have known from the start, then, that Harrington was meant to be someone special to him. “You don’t understand!”
“Maybe I would if you’d actually talk to me!”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, asshole!”
Both of them were out of breath despite neither having moved from their spots on either side of the doorframe. Billy watched Harrington then, watched as those brown eyes searched his own for something. The other man seemed to find it, though, because he strangely laughed, all breathy and a little sharp around the edges.
“You’re better with your hands than your mouth,” Harrington teased, and this, well this Billy could do.
He winked, letting his tongue run along his lips before calling back, “I can show you just how good I am with my mouth, pretty boy.”
“Fuck,” Harrington breathed out, brown eyes looking up to the ceiling and cheeks bursting red. Billy would be a liar if he said his chest didn’t flutter at the sight of how much he’d affected him.
And then it happened. Billy never would have expected it, but it was the very thing he’d hoped would happen when he drove out here that night. “Maybe I’m crazy for this, but get inside. We’ll try one more time at this,” Harrington conceded, “just once.”
So Billy crossed over the threshold into the Harrington’s giant fucking mansion, wondering when he’d ever gotten another chance at anything. Maybe soulmates really were something important, after all.
The first word Billy could come up with to describe the house was sterile. It was clear the family had money and plenty of it. The furniture was all modern and new, with protective covers over the couches and chairs that looked like they’d never been used ever. He could see the lights of a pool in the backyard and wondered briefly why Harrington wouldn’t spend every second he could in a pool like that.
Except instead of being in the pool, Harrington was standing awkwardly in front of him, hands gesturing around like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.
“Do you want—” Harrington sighed, running a hand through his already wild hair. “Need anything to drink, Hargrove?”
“D’you have beer?”
That pulled another laugh out of Harrington, another breathy one like he wasn’t quite sure if he could make the full sound in front of Billy. By the end of the night, Billy was determined to hear that full, uninhibited laugh. “Yeah, good idea. Let’s have a beer,” Harrington conceded.
Through a few other strange conversations, the pair ended up on the roof of the Harrington castle, each holding onto a beer with a couple more tucked behind them as spares. It was easier here, outside where Billy could turn his focus to the stars. There were never this many stars back in California, where all the bright lights shielded them from view. It was almost peaceful here in Indiana, where the wind prickled at Billy’s skin to remind him of where he was and the moon shone down on them like a gentle beacon.
“Why now?” Harrington finally asked, not looking at Billy thankfully. Those brown eyes were too much sometimes like they could see deep into Billy in a way that no one had been able to in years. He didn’t like it, feeling that on display. “What changed your mind?”
Billy didn’t answer right away. How could he? He knew, of course, that Harrington was aware of what went on in his house but how could he say it aloud? He’d never told anyone, not so directly.
Luckily Harrington liked to talk when he was nervous, a habit Billy had picked up on just from watching his interactions with other people. He didn’t like to sit in the quiet, didn’t want to experience any tension when he could just as easily continue trying to remedy the situation.
“Max said your family was on vacation. You didn’t want to go?”
It was Billy’s turn to scoff, the pull of his lips into a frown hidden by his pull on the beer. “Wasn’t invited.”
“You...weren’t invited to your own family’s Christmas vacation?” Harrington clarified, and fuck if it didn’t sound brutal like that.
“Nah,” Billy answered, hoping to sound more blase about it than he felt. He never wanted to actually go to some random relative of Susan’s house, he never wanted to pretend to be someone he wasn’t over the Christmas feast and pretend any of them actually wanted him there. He didn’t want any of that, really, but to know that he was so different, so disliked, that his dad could just completely replace him with a new family? That stung in ways Billy had never expected. “Don’t worry about me, pretty boy. I’m better off here.”
There was a pause. Billy could just see Harrington in his peripheral vision, and what he saw made his jaw tighten with nerves. Harrington was facing him now, fingers tapping idly on the beer can he held between both hands. The other man was chewing on his lower lip like it was taking everything in him not to say what he was thinking. His brown eyes looked, well, sad beyond belief. No one had ever looked at him like that, not without any disappointment slipped in alongside it.
“I’m not talking about that tonight,” Billy told him without ever once turning to face him, preferring instead to start the impossible task of counting the stars in the sky. It was better that way, gave him time to carefully build the wall between his expression and the memories he knew would be brought up by Harrington now.
“If you ever did want to talk about it t—”
“I won’t.”
“If you did,” Harrington pushed, and Billy only faintly wondered if the beer was enough to instill false confidence in the other boy because then their hands were touching—and fuck if that didn’t take away any lingering bit of anger in Billy. Because after so many years of wondering what holding his soulmate’s hand would be like, he finally was getting the idea.
They couldn’t exactly call it a handhold. Billy’s hand was rested flat on the roof, fingerpads scraped against the shingles. Steve’s was placed only partially over his, only covering the space near his pinky and ring fingers. He didn’t apply pressure or anything, either, just let it rest there as proof of what they could have, someday.
It meant everything. He never thought he would get this, and even if it was only ever this, then he would take it and cherish the memory.
Billy turned his head away from Harrington, hoping that it would be enough to hide the color flushing his cheeks now. Why did this feel more intimate than any night he’d spent in bed or the backseat of a car with random guys, how could one touch of the hand completely ruin him?
Steve Harrington would be the death of him someday, of that Billy was sure.
“If I did,” Billy conceded, not sure he’d ever want to put into words what Harrington could already catalog in bruises, “you’d be the first I’d go to.”
“No shit?”
It was so out of place and yet so fucking Harrington it made Billy nearly giddy. He laughed, nothing hidden by layers of fear or anger, just him sharing a moment with a guy he supposed he could really care about someday.
“Yeah, Harrington, no shit.”
“Steve.”
“What?”
“Well, if we’re actually doing this whole soulmates thing, then maybe we should get used to using our first names,” Harrington, Steve, suggested, suddenly looking sheepish. He rubbed at the back of his neck before shrugging, giving him a look like ‘what can you do?’
“One step at a time, princess,” Billy chuckled like he wouldn’t start trying to make the change anyway, pulling himself up to stand on the roof and holding his hand out to help Steve up. “C’mon, it’s cold as fuck out here.”
“Will you stay? Tonight, I mean,” Steve offered once they’d climbed back in through the window they’d escaped from. The decline was on the tip of Billy’s tongue, ready to make an excuse that his dad needed him home.
But no, that wasn’t true, was it? He had two weeks of peace, of freedom. Why not spend it living the fantasy life he wanted but knew he couldn’t have?
Billy knew he had exactly two weeks to have a soulmate before Neil came home and he’d have to give everything up. And maybe it was a little selfish, but he was willing to take the risk that Steve would understand, eventually.
“Sure, why not,” Billy agreed, feeling more reckless than he did speeding forty over the speed limit.
And I can't shake the feeling that Steve would get Nancy, Jonathan and Robin with him to punch Neil into mush, when he's laying his hands on billy again
Louder For Me, Baby - Billy + having to stay quiet in the house because he still lives with max and his mum
Wifey, you know me too well. 😈 VERY NSFW, so be warned fam. Apologies for the length too, I couldn't help myself hehe.
It was always a challenge, going to Billy's house late at night. It wasn't the sneaking in or sneaking out for that matter; that was easy enough. The hardest part was staying quiet. And he never made it easy. You'd never been with anyone as voracious as Billy; he was like a wild animal the moment he helped you through his window.
The way his hands roved over every body part he could find, very nearly ripping your clothes off and almost painfully devouring your lips like he couldn't get close enough to you. One hand instantly wraps around your neck while the other is tangled in your hair, his wild tongue flicking against yours and you can't help but the loud moan that comes out of your open mouth.
"Shhh, baby, you gotta stay quiet." Even in the semi-darkness, you could see eyes boring into yours and you nod obediently, determined to keep the noise down.
But then he's behind you, roughly pulling your panties down to your ankles and bending you over his desk, your hands finding purchase on the edges. Expecting to feel his hard cock sliding into you, it startles you a little when you feel his tongue instead, pressing against your soaking wet pussy, searching for that treasured spot and making you gasp loudly.
He grips your ass hard in warning, "I'm going to stop if you don't keep it down, sweetheart." The order is stern but the pet name is like a soothing balm.
Nodding again, you look back and see him smirking, dark eyes twinkling in what little light was streaming through the blinds. Keeping his eyes on you, he licks a slow stripe from your clit to your ass and it makes your eyes roll up into your head. Next comes his fingers and one of your hands comes flying up to your mouth, muffling the squeal of pleasure.
"So sensitive for me," Billy whispers, adding a second finger (which has you biting down on your lip so hard you feel like you broke the skin), "have you been wet for me all day, sweet girl?"
You vigorously shake your head. He chuckles quietly, continuing the assault to your core, finding that spongey center and curling his fingers ever so slightly breaking that resilience and a desperate moan breaks the barrier of your teeth. Billy stops moving his fingers. And slides them out of you. Your head whips behind you, whispering frantically, almost at whine level, "I'm sorry, Billy, I couldn't help it."
He standing up now, turning you around to face him. "Looks like I'm gonna have to do it for you." And he does. His wide hand covers the lower half of your face, his other hand guiding you to the bed and aggressively pushing you onto your stomach. You turn your head slightly, watching through your tangled hair as his hands slide his sweatpants down, his angry, hard cock bobbing threateningly in the darkness.
Billy is suddenly leaning over you, his lips against the outer shell of your ear, "You gonna be a good girl for me?"
"Yes," you managed to eek out, "I'll be good." He's right up against your clenching, dripping cunt, inches away from what you've needed since you woke up that morning.
"Good," his hand slides up into your hair and wraps it around his hand, pulling your head up slightly, "Because I have no problem sending your needy ass home without this cock if you can't behave."
Even with the grip on your hair, you manage a stiff nod. Satisfied with your response, Billy slides into you and you press your lips together hard, the threat of a whimper immediately choking you. He's right up against you, low grunts and breaths fanning hotly across your cheek and neck. "Goddamn baby, you feel so good, shit."
Somehow, he's managed to find that spot with a handful of deep thrusts and you can feel the crest of your climax peaking from the base of your spine and with one hard snap of his hips, tumbling over the edge, your lips parting in a silent scream. But you know the moans are coming, and thankfully Billy knew this about you too, because his hand finds your mouth and covers it again as your body convulses against his, muffling the mewls and curse words.
"Good girl, such a good girl, fuck, you're gonna make me come. You want Daddy to fill you up, sweetheart?" He moves his hand to your throat and squeezes, making you clench around him hard. You don't even get a chance to answer him; he's gritting his teeth, the hand in your hair gripping tighter and huffing out uneven grunts mixed with, "yes, m'gonna fill my pussy so good" as he spills into you.
The little moans and whimpers that he allows are music to your ears and you revel in the pulsing of his cock inside you, his head resting against your shoulder. Knowing you made him come like that will help you sleep like a baby tonight. He waits until he's not so sensitive to slide out, but doesn't go far. Billy pulls you close, his head finding your cleavage and nuzzling his nose between the curves of your breasts. You breathe out a giggle as your fingers run through his soft curls.
"We gotta get you a muzzle, baby," He mutters quietly.
"Your hand does a pretty good job."
He lifts his head to get a better look at you, smirking, "I like having both hands free, though."
I am a firm believer in Billy being so hot for Steve that whenever they would pass each other in the hallways at School his dick would twitch against the tight denim of his jeans. And his mind would race with thoughts of all the things he wanted to do to Steve/all the things he wanted Steve to do to him.
It'd get so bad that Billy would have to change underwear or take a shower right when he gets home because he's covered in such a mess of pre-cum.
I've got a little request for a fic. I'm in love with your writings for billy and I'd like to know how his wedding day would be.
Is he scared? Is he cocky as usual? Does he even care or is he doing this just for his partner? Does he want to run? And what's his reaction seeing his partner the wirst time in their wedding attire? Just.. just fluff. Pure, teeth rotting fluff? Or angst? Or both? I don't know :D
a/n: aaa okay ik you mentioned like a reaction to wedding attire- but I found it hard to segway into that from what I was already writing, so I think I'm gonna do another part to this/separate piece just on his reaction to his s/o in their wedding clothes!
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader
Length: 1.5k
Warnings: Tiny angst? Mention of Neil/abusive parenting, commitment issues, fluffy Biwwy, also Max and Billy being siblings if for some reason you don't like that
'Ready' for Forever - B.H.
What the fuck was he doing?
Billy asked himself for the hundredth time as he looked at himself in the mirror. It felt so bizarre, so weird and wrong. But in a good way- he thinks.
He's always dressed nice, he takes pride in his appearance- but his appearance wasn't fully buttoned-up shirts and dress pants. That wasn't him. He'd be more comfortable in a jean jacket and an open shirt or a plain short sleeve shirt with jeans.
A suit was not something that fit him. He wasn't sure if he looked completely ridiculous or just out of place. Maybe a bit of both.
The tie in his hands isn't something he wants to put on either. It's a matter of staying true to himself and "looking presentable."
It was his wedding after all.
His wedding. God, it didn't sound real, it didn't sound... Possible.
Billy Hargrove had believed he was destined to be alone. He was used to having sex with someone and never seeing them or speaking to them again. It was how he liked it- maybe he'd play with someone for a few weeks, but he didn't stick around. He never planned to- never wanted to.
Commitment was scary. It was something that Billy had never experienced before- having someone commit themselves to him and vice versa. Even in his familial life, no one had been committed to him.
His mom had left. His dad's only commitment was to make his life a living hell. Susan was a quiet bystander and Max... Well, actually, Max had been the only person in his family who tried sometimes. And they weren't even biologically related.
It was a lot better now. She was his sister. He never hated her- it took years to get where they were now.
"Do you know how to tie that?"
Speak of the devil and she shall appear.
Billy glared at his sister in the not too small but also not quite big enough mirror in front of him, the tie still in his hands. Max stood at the door in a woman's suit, a plain shirt under a blazer, her bright red hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
"Do you?" He said more harshly than he intended.
"Nope."
"Then shut up," he rolled his eyes as she fully stepped into the room, getting ready to take the tie from his hands, "what?"
"I'm sure we can hack it or whatever."
"I'm not wearing this fuckin' thing," his words were laced with disgust as if the piece of fabric offended him greatly. In some ways, perhaps it did because it didn't fit him. It wasn't him, "I can tie a tie. I just don't want to wear the damn thing."
"You can tie a tie? Since when?"
"Since you kept your smart ass mouth shut and minded your own fuckin' business, Max."
"So you can't tie it?"
Billy didn't even bother to offer a response. His nerves were too high, if not for that he'd have shot back at Max. Their banter was something he enjoyed nowadays- it had really become sibling-like.
But his stomach felt weird, and his chest felt tighter, his hands weren't as steady as usual- God he was nervous.
Billy Hargrove was actually fucking nervous; really nervous.
His fight or flight actually wanted him to take flight for once, and he was usually all fight. He hated it so much, it felt so weak and naked. Like he was laid bare for the world to attack.
He knew it was fine, but anxiety liked to think otherwise. People didn't look at Billy and think "anxiety" but it was something he was familiar with. But he was good at hiding. Good at making it look like anger.
"Wow, you're actually nervous," Max says with some amount of disbelief. But how could she expect otherwise, he was getting married, to someone he loved more than he ever thought he could love. Someone special.
You.
"Gee Max, thanks for pointing out the goddamn obvious,- really appreciate that."
Frayed nerves were a dangerous look on Billy Hargrove.
Max held her hands up in defense and even surrender. To what? To whatever banter they were brewing that could end in an actual fight if she wasn't careful in those moments.
The redhead felt for him. She really did. Sure, seeing him actually not in control of the situation and looking so out of his element elicited the smallest of smiles on her face, but aside from that, she felt for him.
The two had managed to find that sibling relationship they both wanted but hadn't realised how badly they wanted it. You had helped, sure, you were a tether between them sometimes. But Starcourt, almost dying on Billy's part, that's what really did it.
Before then, after the incident at the Wheelers home with the baseball bat and everything, the two step-siblings found themselves stuck in some weird limbo with one another.
They were at a point where Billy knew Max wouldn't deal with his shit like before and Max would fight back. A point where they still argued, and he still drove her around begrudgingly because of his father and her mother, but a point that was no longer as volatile. It was a point that swam dangerously close to the shore, one that needed help finding itself and just exactly where they were.
They were almost like siblings. But something was there still. Anger maybe, a misunderstanding.
And Starcourt changed it all. Things were put into perspective, Max had almost lost her brother, and Billy had done things that...
Well, to put it simply, it forced the two to talk. To really speak. And a few years down the line, they really were like siblings. They are siblings.
So how could she not feel for him at that moment; Max had come to know him well.
"Look, I'm sure it's all gonna be okay," unsure of how to help, Max offered her words slowly, and when he didn't respond she continued, "it'll be a few minutes of your life- listening to some old man talk and then saying I do. It's easy. Then you can spend the rest of your life never wearing a suit again."
"It's not the stupid fuckin' suit," Billy snaps, throwing the tie to the side, not caring where it lands, "It's not justthe stupid fuckin' suit."
Words left unsaid linger in the air but Max is fairly sure she knows what the problem really is.
"You've been with them for years," Max says resolutely, picking the tie up from the ground, "and you've been living with them for at least two. You're basically already like a married couple, all you're doing now is making it official. You've been committed this whole time and so have they, just not on paper."
Max was right. Billy had been with you for years now, the two of you had a little house together (still in goddamn Hawkins- he couldn't leave Max to deal with his dad till she was old enough to move on her own- and it was sort of growing on him. Only a bit) and he wanted no one but you.
It was always going to be you for him, he had come to accept that years ago. That was fact for him. And it took a lot of time, talks, and work for him to conclude that it would only ever be you.
Commitment was scary. But hadn't he been committed all along? Just not on paper, not by law.
It eased his mind a smidge- but he was still wound tight. He supposed he'd just have to go do it, get married, and just deal with the anxiety of it all because it wouldn't just go away.
He wanted you. As much as he could have you, in every way he could.
"I ain't wearing the fuckin' tie," Billy finally mutters, akin to a child, "and I'm not keeping this shit buttoned all the way up. Look like a goddamn butler."
Billy's already unbuttoning a few of the white shirts buttons, revealing his chest more. There's a gnarly-looking scar in the center, one that reminded him of bad times. But one he had slowly come to accept.
It looked kind of badass too.
"They'll probably appreciate that."
Max puts the tie on the table in the room and shrugs her shoulders, making her way to the door.
"You better hurry up, or you'll be the one walking down the aisle with flowers while they're the ones at the other end."
Billy scoffs. Him, holding flowers and walking down the aisle? No way in hell.
Max is gone, and Billy is alone in the room again. He looks at himself and feels a bit more like himself. Shirt more open, no ugly tie, earring in his ear (the matching earring to the set is in yours) and his hair is wavy, curly; a single curl falls over his forehead.
Breathe in deep. Let it out.
Goddamn. He's not sure he'll ever feel ready. But he knows that he is ready.
Maybe he doesn't really care too much about 'marriage.' He knows you are already his, it's just words, law. But if it makes you happy, then he's going to do it. Besides, you having his last name sounds kind of nice.
somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side - Steddie x Reader Drabble
TW: Angst, angst, angst, talks of drunk parents being shitty, cussing.
A/N: @spideysbae you requested this FOREVER ago and it's been in my drafts for a while because my brain couldn't wrap around how to write it, but here it is in all its trash glory. Thanks for being patient with me! This was only slightly edited by me, ain't got time for anything else.
The thing is, it's not that they are doing it on purpose and you know that. You know the boys weren't trying to upset you and it takes every ounce of strength to not snap at every single tease or roast that comes out of their mouths.
The day was a total shit show and wasn't their fault.
You'd been trying to be in a better mood since you walked through the door to Steve's house; this was your safe space and hearing one or both of them perk up when they hear your keys crash loudly in the ashtray/key bowl is comfort you feel deep in your belly. But it didn't help matters when the first thing Eddie said to you was:
"Woah, who shit in your shoes, Princess?"
He could tell by the look on your face that, at the very least you were tired, but you swallowed down the biting retort and gave a wry smile. "It's fine. Just a long day." Thankfully he let you go to Steve's bedroom in peace, sighing deeply as your back pushed the door closed.
The fight with your Mom started early in the morning and then again as soon as you came home. You couldn't blame her for being concerned about you; you barely spent any time at home and when you did it was to get more clothes or to eat the occasional meal with her. She didn't know about Steve, not that morning anyway. And her tolerance levels for Eddie were minimal at best because all she said say about him lately was, "Don't be stupid and let that boy put a baby in your belly."
You never knew how to tell your Mom that you were more careful than she was without it sounding completely shitty. Because it was shitty, but it was also true. There were many drunken conversations where she confessed that your Dad didn't use a condom even though Sober Mom swore he did. It was infuriating when she lumped Eddie into the same category as your Dad. Her favorite line: "All men are the same, honey. They don't care about anything but getting their dick wet."
That's what started the argument in the first place. She said her rude comment and all you did was roll your eyes. Your mom caught it and what should have been her usual lecture ascended into a screaming match followed by stomping out of the house. Pretty sure you cracked the window pane to the front door from how hard you let it slam behind you. When you realized you needed to go home for clean underwear, you almost considered going without. Or having Steve buy you new ones; he would get entertainment out of that.
But you went home anyway.
A knock at your door broke you out of your thought chaos and you inhaled, letting the breath out slowly. "Yeah?"
It was Steve. "Hey, are you hungry?"
You were starving, actually. All the bullshit from the day made your stomach hurt and the thought of eating made you want to vomit. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute."
Dinner wasn't exactly relaxing though. Eddie and Steve were playfully arguing about something, but the banter was biting at your nerves something fierce and the food in your mouth felt like it was expanding while you chewed, aching your jaw and head.
"What's wrong?" Steve finally asked, his eyes flicking to you. "You've hardly said a word."
"Oh, uh-" you swallowed the painful bite, "-just thinking. Sorry."
"Kitten had a long day," Eddie interjected, winking at you. His fingers brushed through your hair, making you jerk away involuntarily.
Kitten. Usually, that word melted you into a puddle but for some reason, it set your teeth on edge this time. Once again, you just smirked and went back to your food, ignoring the way Steve was looking at you; he noticed you jerking away from Eddie's touch
The feeling of Eddie's other hand sliding up your thigh made you jump a little and he chuckled, "Don't worry baby, we'll take care of you."
I don't want to be taken care of, I want to be left alone, is what you wanted to say, but Eddie was just being Eddie. He wasn't stupid; he knew you were struggling but sometimes he had a tendency to be a little insensitive to it. It was like he couldn't handle you being in a bad mood so throwing humor at it was his way of coping. They hardly ever saw you upset so part of you understood.
But now Eddie was in your ear, his breath agitating the skin there, "How about we strip you down and give you a full body massage? I bet that would help, huh?" The hand on your thigh was moving further up and the last shred of niceness snapped sharply. You were up and out of your seat before you even knew what was happening.
"Jesus Christ, Eddie! What the fuck?! I've been telling you all evening that I'm tired and I know you're not a total moron, so why the hell do you keep pushing? I'm not a piece of meat! Maybe I just want to be alone, goddamn!"
It was a lot louder than you intended and after seeing the kicked puppy look that brought Eddie's face down, matched with Steve's shock, the tears broke through your resolve like a cracked dam. Hot streams of tears flowed down your face, shame folding you back in your seat with your hands over your face. The chest-wrenching sobs followed, bringing your forehead down on the table's surface. It was a good five minutes before you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders; upon opening your eyes, you saw a blurry, wet version of Steve's shoes.
"It's okay, baby. Just breathe."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just...I'm sorry-" was all you could say and before long, Eddie's curly hair was tickling your arm as he held you close too. The three of you sat there, holding onto each other for what felt like hours. Your sobs finally subsided and you lifted your head. Your face was pounding around your eyeballs, snot mixing with the tears all over your nose and face. Eddie quickly grabbed a napkin and handed it to you, letting you clean yourself up. His eyes met yours and a fresh wave of tears prickled a the corners of your eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Eds. I shouldn't have-"
"Don't apologize. You're right; I knew you weren't doing okay and I ignored it. I'm sorry." He was trying to give a reassuring smile.
"God, please don't say that. I'm just - I got overwhelmed and I should have said something before it got to this point-"
"What happened?" Steve asked, pulling up a chair to sit next to you, "When you called at lunch I thought everything was okay."
You sniffed, wiping your nose, "I called to tell you what happened but I didn't want you to worry at work, and then Eddie was excited about this new campaign thing and I didn't want to mess that up."
Both of them opened their mouths to argue, probably to remind you that you could tell them absolutely anything but you shook your head. "I know, I know. I just...I had a fight with my Mom this morning and then everything felt like shit after that. Then I realized I had to go home for some things and I almost didn't go. I thought she wouldn't be home, but she was waiting for me and-" your voice cracked, the threat of tears making you rub your eyes.
Steve grabbed your hand, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry." He hesitated a second, then decided to push on, "Can I-what did you guys fight about?"
"Eddie, mostly."
Eddie was taken aback, poking a finger into his chest. "Me?"
"Yeah. She assumes you're like every other man on the planet and just wants to dump a baby in me and leave. She was just being super rude about it. That was this morning. When I went home this evening, she started in me again and I let slip that-" Your blood-shot eyes met Steve's soft gaze, "-I was dating you too and she lost her shit. Just wouldn't stop yelling at me. Pretty sure she called me a 'slut' before I left the house."
Both boys let out an audible response; Eddie with a "Wow, what the fuck?" and Steve with "Are you serious?"
You nodded, "She was drunk. She can be harsh, but it's worse when she's gone through a bottle of wine. And I know it's not true. I just...I don't know."
It was quiet for a moment, then Steve smirked, "I'm kinda glad you told her though. Even if you had to take shit for it after."
A genuine smile broke out on your face. "Yeah, I am too. I was planning on telling her at some point, but it's probably better that it happened this way."
The genuine happiness that spread across Steve's face dissolved any remaining sadness from your body, letting that comfort relax the rest of your muscles.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that, babe. You don't deserve that, especially from your Mom of all people," Steve's thumb rubbed soft circles into your hand.
Eddie sighed, "And I hope you know that you're not a slut for being with both of us. Unless we just so happen to call you that in bed from time to time." He winked at you again and thankfully, it didn't irritate the shit out of you like before. "If nothing else, you're our slut."
You huffed out a laugh and nodded. "I don't care about that, actually. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life with the both of you and if she can't handle that then...well, I guess I'll have to figure out where to stay until she does."
"Well," Steve started, leaning back in his chair, "I've been thinking about asking you guys to move in-"
Both you and Eddie looked up at Steve, eyebrows furrowed. You spoke first, "Are you serious?"
His eyes moved between the both of you, obvious worry creasing his brow "Yeah. I mean...only if you want to. I don't want to rush anything if you're not ready."
Similar grins spread across his lover's faces and he relaxed a little. Wordlessly, you leaned into Steve, kissing him deeply. "I'm in." Eddie clumsily leaned across your body, straining to also kiss Steve, peals of laughter bursting out of you.
"Let's do it. You're gonna hate it, Harrington, just a warning."
"You're assuming I won't kick you out if it gets unbearable," Steve joked.
"I'm actually a perfect angel to live with so-" You sniffed airly, flipping your hair back.
Both boys kissed your cheeks on either side, Eddie nuzzling his nose against your cheek for good measure.
"I love you," You sighed, letting your body fall against Steve's. It became this unsaid thing that when you said those three words, they knew it was to both of them.
"We love you too, sweetheart," Eddie said, his fingers raking through your hair again.
"So, that getting naked and body massage thing-" you muttered, smiling sheepishly at Eddie. "-is that still on the table?"
about him not being able to relax most of the time. constantly being on edge, muscles tense, whether he's flexing intentionally or not. there's always this undercurrent of anxiety thrumming through him like a live wire, despite his best efforts to appear unaffected, he's always taut as a bowstring. planting his feet. bracing himself for a hit. and it got worse after the mind flayer, when he realized nowhere was safe, not even his own head.
the first time steve gives him a friendly pat—because that's a thing they do now apparently, they're friendly with each other—he pauses, resting his palm on billy's shoulder for a moment too long, warmth bleeding through thin cotton.
"you really are built like a brick wall, huh."
billy preens but there's a furrow between steve's eyebrows.
the first time they kiss it's a whirlwind of a thing, push and pull and gripping each other so tightly their knuckles ache. when steve slows the slide of his lips and gentles his hands, billy shudders, groans, freezes in his tracks for a split-second before throwing himself back into it with a press of his mouth that's as much a shove as a kiss.
there's a silent tug-of-war between them after that.
the first time they make each other come steve ends up pinned to a wall, billy caging him in, all teeth and heat and heavy breaths. they rut against each other, til billy's legs start to shake. steve is putty in his hands, loose-limbed and biting his lip harder with every drag of billy's hand against the damp spot on the front of his jeans. billy lets out a breath when he comes, but never relaxes.
steve kisses his shoulder, his arms wrapped around billy's waist. it's an invitation. a request. he'll hold billy up if he needs to.
but billy drops to his knees instead.
then he starts to notice steve inviting him over more often. he pokes fun at steve for being a priss. too good to fuck in alleys, public bathrooms, bent over the hood of a car, wherever the goddamn mood strikes. no, he needs his high thread-count sheets and real lube and fucking mood music.
it's not entirely true, he knows it, steve's always willing, no matter where they are, but still. his obsession with being in his own bed while they fuck is weird.
billy finds out exactly what that's about after four months of whatever it is they're doing.
when steve asks "do you trust me?" billy says yes before he even has time to think about it, and steve's grin in response is blindingly beautiful. "okay, tell me if you want me to stop. just. whenever, alright."
he doesn't tell steve to stop.
not when he sucks marks into billy's neck, teeth grazing his collarbone, soft lips dragging across his skin, slick fingers circling billy's hole while he works.
not when he sinks his cock in slowly, too slowly, muffling billy's groan with a kiss.
not when he refuses to let billy touch himself, threading their fingers together and kissing every scarred knuckle, pulling billy's searching hands away from his neglected cock with a sly smile.
not after the first orgasm that rips through him and shoots up his stomach in thick streams of white, that rocks him to his core and leaves him trembling under steve, oversensitive and biting back gasps with every spark that races up his spine as steve continues to fuck into him.
or the second, coaxed out with murmured praise, accompanied by a sharp cry and tears clinging to his eyelashes.
his limbs feel like jello. he's sweating in places he didn't know he could sweat. and steve's running his fingers through the mess on his stomach with a tiny, exhausted smile pressed into the crook of his neck.
"love seeing you like this," steve says, almost shyly. the smile in his voice is bigger than the one on his face.
"hm?"
"relaxed. y'know...comfy."
billy scoffs quietly.
"you know i've literally never seen you not flexing before now right. i had no idea your tummy could be soft." neither did he. his abdominal muscles twitch under steve's hand, but steve gives him a light tap. "don't you dare, i worked hard for this."
and billy...doesn't know how to feel about that. he shifts a little, discomfort tickling at him, buzzing under his skin. now that he's aware of how mellow he was feeling, it's hard to just sit in it and let it happen.
it takes practice. with steve petting his hair and talking about nothing, nails gently scritching his scalp, letting his mind drift. or steve wrapping silk around his wrists to keep him still while he tires him out, has his way with every inch of him. eventually he figures it out. lets himself be soft. comfortable.
And the day Quinn cusses yall out or snaps on you in anyway do NOT paint him as a bad guy and try to play victim when you literally HARASSED and STALKED him.
Steddie Munson Harrington @steddiemunsonharrington - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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