Just watched a music video and am thinking of yet another mafia Billy that isn’t fleshed out enough for writing but here it is anyway:
Thinking about mafia Billy in a cellar music club. The kind that was clearly a speakeasy once upon a time, and is still small and intimate now, but better furnished with booths and a small stage for live music. The dance area is only big enough for like 6 couples to dance on...
But Billy’s watching one of them. It’s his club, he’s not shy about where his eyes go. Large hands on a small waist. Glossy hair framing a sculpted face. It’s the second time this person has wandered into his venue. Same black blazer on a black shirt. As if that would make him stand out less.
Billy doesn’t know the girl he’s with. He just knows she’s in the way. How two innocent civilians slipped in here - twice - is unique. Billy’s half inclined to believe they’re both an offering from his iron-fisted subordinates. They whisper about his preferences but don’t know. Trying to cover all bases would be a strategy to figuring out how to satisfy the unsatisfiable.
Whatever drew this one down here...to Billy’s depths...he considered letting the man leave. Let him go and let him never come back. But if he slipped down here a third time...
Large, dark eyes lifted and found Billy’s. The latter’s fingertips had been held to his mouth, but now they traced his lips as he blatantly held onto those doe eyes.
The cupid’s mouth opened in muted shock. Closed. His throat moved as he swallowed.
The red tones in the room pulsed, alive. Billy knew he was already gone, practically hearing his prey’s heartbeat in the red breath of the room. Billy added his pink tongue to it, moving it through the seam of his lips and watching that swallow again. How sweetly those lips fell open.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Uuuuh so instead of updating HTFYSA I started this instead? WHOOPS.
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Neil Hargrove, Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Mob, mobster!billy, Teacher!Steve, the upside down bs is still a thing
Summary: Billy Hargrove walked into his little sister's classroom expecting to scare her teacher into giving her a better grade. He didn't count on Mr. Harrington being so attractive, or intriguing. And what exactly does he know about the local contaminate making people act a little crazy?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“I need to get laid.”
Steve stared up at his ceiling from the bed. Robin sat on the floor with the one thousand piece puzzle they had started, and the massive batch of pasta they’d made for dinner. She forked penne into her mouth and remarked, “Then go outside.”
Based on @lovebillyhargrove ‘s This Steve with This Billy. (original concept credit to @youfuckingdonut)
I’m having more success with mafia drabbles than my on-going mafia fics orz
• • • • • • •
Steve didn’t know what Billy’s job actually was.
He knew the guy wore nice shirts and nicer blazers, suit jackets, and tuxedo pieces. He knew Billy had to be either the boss or close to it, because he only wore the pieces of a full suit or tuxedo. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he burned every tie he saw. Always had too many buttons undone.
But he looked good. And he knew he looked good. He walked right up to Steve waiting in line with Robin at a cafe before it closed. They’d gone to a nightclub at the absurd time of 8 o’clock. Hey, no door charge because they showed up so early. They were drunk off their ass and sweaty by 11pm. He called it an efficient night out.
“I’ve never been so happy to have a box of stale croissants in my life,” Robin mused as the tired barista used the tongs in the glass display case.
Steve bounced from foot to foot, still dancing to the bad radio pop overhead. He cracked open his juice from the chilled shelves, since asking for a coffee five minutes shy of closing might get a wad of spit mixed in -
“You’re light on your feet.”
Steve didn’t think too heavily on it when he was drunk. Everyone was prettier when the brain behind the eyes was in some cups, just like all food tasted better. Maybe he should’ve devoted more brain cells to the moment. But that was a lost cause now.
He and Robin chatted and Steve apologized for his hand being wet with condensation and sweat when the guy offered a handshake. Even through the sparkly haze of alcohol, Steve could tell he gave Steve the time of day more than Robin, but they were on their way out anyway.
Steve might’ve said, “Well that was a great nightcap. He’s tasty,” a bit loud before the cafe door shut behind them. Robin coughed on her croissant and Steve guffawed and swiped it for himself before taking off down the street with her chasing after him.
But then Steve just kept running into him.
The guy from the cafe.
Walking into the park as Steve was leaving it. Strolling by the bank before Steve went inside.
With his designer clothes and his clean shoes and smooth, clean shaven jaw made ever so slightly tacky from skincare and lotion when it touched Steve’s face. Because he leaned too far forward over the table he was serving at his upscale restaurant job and
Time froze in a vacuum
Because Steve could’ve sworn he - Billy - lifted his face into the shadow of Steve’s neck. Inhaled.
It was a miracle he didn’t drop a plate or spill a glass. He dared the briefest glance but blue eyes pierced him regardless of the emotion behind them. Steve felt like a dagger tied on a string hung through his belly, lazily stirring his nerves and threatening to land dangerously in his groin.
He left the table before he made a fool of himself and all the company present. Large tables guaranteed large tips. He’d be set for the next month if he just didn’t fuck this up. He strode past the open-air kitchen and the ‘butler’s pantry’ area to hallway with the staff bathrooms -
Hands turned him around by his hips, surprisingly warm despite the thick poly-cotton of his white apron and the black slacks underneath.
The dagger fell.
The kiss was soft despite how ravenously Billy plundered his mouth. It was all Steve could do, to hold onto his nape and then wrap his arms behind Billy’s neck. He tasted like steak and amaretto and neutral sweet, like a man. Mewls and moans left Steve’s throat like he couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to drown in whatever this was.
Billy pivoted them so Steve pressed into the wallpaper. He hummed again as his hand found the clean shaven fade on the back of Billy’s head, his blunt fingertips petting and scratching there like he hadn’t known this man for more than an hour of collective encounters.
A sound left Billy’s chest. It hit Steve’s core like a pebble on a bell before he broke the kiss enough to meet Steve’s gaze. Clear blue eyes far more sober than Steve felt and probably looked. Wrecked with lust for this stranger who had money and means to always find him.
“A car’s going to pick you up later.”
Steve blinked with reticence, not wanting to leave this haze but already out of it.
“Get into the car.” The pad of Billy’s thumb touched Steve’s lip, light but insistent. He breathed, “Steve,” before leaving the hallway. Pleading. At least, Steve wanted it to be a plea.
But he was gone when Steve checked back at the table to top up waters and drinks. In singles and pairs, the group left until Steve was left to collect dishes and wonder who the hell managed their tabs. His manager answered that question for him moments later, by shoving a thick fold of cash into his apron pocket.
“Your tip from table twenty-three.”
“I didn’t see you get the bills,” he commented, intending to reach in and see what the high rollers tipped -
She shoved his hands away from his pocket. “You don’t take money out in the open, silly. Get back to your locker for that.”
Steve knew he never saw her with a pile of receipt folders with credit cards sticking out of them. But he went back to work and didn’t take inventory of his tips until closing.
That table might’ve spent $1200 on dinner and drinks.
Steve got $1100 in tips. What kind of math that was, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t fixate on it too much, because inside the fold of money was a piece of paper with a phone number. No name. Steve could assume it to be Billy’s but he didn’t know...
Get into the car.
Steve zipped up his coat as he stepped out of the employees’ entrance. He emerged out of the service alleyway to...a regular city street. No cars more or less than normal, and none of them stood out...
Did he even want to get in?
He almost shook his head, just to jostle his thoughts around. “Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid,” he whispered to himself as he turned and marched his ass home. He didn’t know this guy: a person with a scary amount of recon on his life to be able to find him at any ol’ time. His dinner friends weren’t exactly a college reunion, either.
But he kissed like a god and tasted like one too.
He held Steve like he wanted him, and Christ, Steve wanted to be wanted.
The privilege of being craved.
He was wrist deep in shampoo with his eyes closed when he realized someone pounded on his apartment door. The panic of rinsing suds off his body as fast as possible, the terror of someone at his door at 2am, and the fury of pissing off his neighbors at 2am spurred him out of the shower and into a t-shirt on top of the towel around his waist.
God sure as hell could’ve been at his door and Steve would’ve answered it the same way.
“It’s 3am! Shut the hell up!” he hissed.
Billy looked equal measures of pissed and concerned, but he blinked and amusement crept in. He wore a long, swanky pea coat that looked soft to the touch. Steve was more preoccupied with moving out of his way when the guy strode right into his apartment.
“Why didn’t you let the car pick you up?” Billy’s gaze moved around the Spartan yet cluttered living room.
“Uh, I didn’t see one?” Steve sassed before he admitted, “Or...it’s a street? Lots of cars.”
Billy’s attention landed on him like he didn’t quite believe it. Steve stood in a towel with dripping hair, for god sake. Billy’s eyes raked over him as if he were putting together some pieces of a puzzle that Steve didn’t understand. Or was mundane life so difficult if you could just drop $1100?
Billy took his hands from his pockets and started removing buttery leather gloves. “Do you have a roommate?”
Steve felt like another dagger was about to fall, but where, he couldn’t tell. He inhaled and sighed, “No.”
“Who is that woman to you?”
Steve’s brows reached for his hairline. “You mean my best friend?” he challenged.
Billy laughed. Derisive and amused and...impressed? Relieved?
He threw his coat, jacket, and gloves on the IKEA couch and those hands found Steve’s waist again. “Billy?” he managed before he had those lips again. Before Billy’s hand found the base of his skull and encouraged him to tilt for better access.
Then Billy let a moan seep into his sigh. Their lips parted audibly and he breathed, “No one talks to me like you do. About me. To me. You-mmh.”
He took Steve’s lips again like he craved. Steve shivered against his erection brushing against the fibers of his towel.
“Can I finish my shower?”
“No,” he purred darkly, arm locking behind Steve’s waist as the other pressed a rolling hand to Steve’s front.
He trembled through a broken shout, panting against Billy’s lips and jaw, gripping his silk shirt at the risk of scratching the threads. Billy licked over Steve’s lips, and Steve was dangerously close to cumming right there.
“Billy...” he whined. He warned.
Bright eyes gazed steadily at him through hooded, dark lashes. “Keep saying my name like that. I’ll give you everything.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 6/?
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Dustin Henderson, Original Characters
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billy and Max Never Moved to Hawkins, Post-Season/Series 03, Steve Moves to the City, Mob Boss Billy Hargrove, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Contracts, Protective Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Touch-Starved, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Slow Burn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Long-haired Billy, man bun
Summary:
"If someone were to tell Steve that he would be caught between mafia bullshit and top secret government plots, he might’ve just stayed and let himself rot in Hawkins."
Steve has left Hawkins for a hard restart in the city. And so far, he's enjoying it. Best decision he could've made, given the circumstances he left behind and the minimal prospects ahead of him. And when an offer too good to refuse is offered by one Mr. Hargrove, Steve doesn't say no.
I need a comfort fic so I’m giving myself a sequel to this part 1 (also on ao3).
Originally for @withoneheadlight 💋
based on their post here about hair stylist!Steve 🔥( • spicy ahead • )
• • • • • • •
“Mr. Harrington? He’s ready for you.”
Steve startled a little in the waiting room chair. “Okay, thanks,” he said, reaching for his bag. Unzipping it, he rummaged through his traveler’s cases of shears, combs, disinfecting sprays, brushes, and his travel mirror. Everything was in order, even after the building’s security team when through it.
Steve hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove in a month. Maybe more, he lost track. The salon finished renovations, finally, and he threw himself into his work to forget the sickening anxiety of a police cruiser showing up at any moment to take him in for questioning.
What is your involvement with William Hargrove?
Why do you visit his work?
Why did he visit your home on the night of the seventeenth?
Why are there remnants of his hair and someone else’s blood in your apartment?
But no one came. No one asked questions. Billy’s weekly visits to the salon ground to a halt and Steve only just this morning answered a call from the familiar secretary.
She showed him into Billy’s expansive office. More like a suite. Steve didn’t know if he lived here. He probably could; Steve had washed his hair in a bathroom too luxurious for an office.
The office looked different today. A small conference table had replaced the sitting area in the middle of the room while Billy’s large desk sat on the far end, parallel with the wall of windows. Papers and files littered the table. Billy perked up when Steve appeared in the doorway.
“Steve, good morning.”
“Hi,” he tried to reply with the same balance of neutrality and pleasantry. It wasn’t easy when the apex of his legs ached with a sore spike of pleasure in his muscle memory. The last he’d seen Billy, Steve had just cut a fade around the man’s skull and left the top a chic, loose length for business.
The length had grown long enough for Billy to have a tiny bun on the back of his head. It looked cute. It looked ridiculous. Steve swallowed thickly and held his bag in front of his pelvis.
Billy thanked his secretary and showed Steve into the en suite bathroom. Per usual. A chair had already been placed in front of the pale granite vanity, in which Billy took his customary place. Steve hung his bag on his arm while he opened the tall cupboard off to the side and shook out the cape from it.
“I didn’t mean for it to get this long, but I think I’m inspired.”
Steve threw the cape up and let it drift over Billy’s front as he snapped it behind his nape. “It’s okay. Are you growing all of it out?”
He put his bag on the counter. He set out his customary tools, returning to the cabinet for the spray bottle and electric clippers as Billy replied, “Just a trim and a refresh on the fade.”
“Long on top, short wrap,” Steve reiterated for his own focus. “Do you want a wash first?”
Billy had an elbow on the arm rest, his thumb worrying the stubble on his chin before he waved the offer aside. “I’ll shower after.”
Steve washed his hands and went about carefully removing the tiny rubber band from Billy’s hair. He mussed it loose and informed, “Rubber bands aren’t great for hair. I can get you better options.”
“Scrunchies?” Billy said, but Steve couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious.
He met Billy’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection with lifted brows. “Do you want scrunchies?”
The latter chuckled, closing his eyes for Steve to wield the spray bottle. “Maybe when it’s longer.”
Steve moved the comb mindfully through the strands and the tighter curls on the ends while spraying him down. There wasn’t much to work with since Billy had asked Steve to dock his long mass of hair. It had felt a bit sacrilegious, like shaving a lion.
Except Billy was beautiful either way. He pliantly let Steve tilt his head this way and that, bend his ears down for the clippers, and touching his chin to his chest for Steve to work on cleaning up the V formation on the back of his head. Steve’s palm cradled Billy’s forehead, easing his head back up so he could examine Billy’s hair in the mirror.
He swallowed again when he realized clear blue eyes watched him. Steve reached toward the counter for the buffing brush and swatted away the little pieces of hair on Billy’s neck. Not that it mattered, if Billy intended to take a shower,
But.
Steve had run out of things to do. “I think you’re done.”
“Thank you, Steve,” he said as the cape slithered off his crossed knees.
“Sure.” He went about shaking out a small towel from Billy’s collection, laying out the clipper guards, combs, and shears he’d used so he could spray them with disinfectant. Apart from the one occasion, Billy was an easy client, so it was easy to clean up afterward.
Steve put his things back in his bag while Billy rummaged in the walk-in closet. His secretary handled payment, so...
Steve wavered just outside the bathroom, unsure whether to say goodbye or just leave. He didn’t know where he and Billy stood, after...
After Billy let him into his little criminal underworld. Just a little.
After Billy stayed the night in Steve’s humble little apartment and made Steve feel anything but humble. Had left Steve high as the stars and drifting for a month, heady and sweet until he needed a place to land -
“Steve, come here.”
He didn’t know if Billy heard him pathetically pacing between the office door and the bathroom or if he needed to talk about canceling this whole personal salon thing after -
Billy stepped into view in his slacks, but his torso stood bare apart from a towel around his neck. Steve had but a second for his throat to go dry before Billy’s hands caught his nape.
Somehow
Steve had forgotten how soft his lips were. The tingles of fingers pushing through the hair at the base of his skull darted to his groin and ping-ponged back up to Steve’s chest. A clumsy sound escaped him as one kiss easily fell into two, Billy softly, ravenously plundering his mouth. Filling Steve’s head with syrupy clouds of lust. His hands found the towel on Billy’s chest -
“Have you been all right?”
Steve blinked drunkenly between the frame of Billy’s thumbs on his cheeks. “Huh?”
Billy kissed him again, and that was fine by Steve -
“Safe.” Kiss. “Happy.” Kiss. “Comfortable.”
“Are we kissing or talking?” Steve blurted a little frustratedly.
Billy chuckled, barely separating them as he pulled Steve with him until his rear met the side of the vanity. Steve hummed again into his mouth, wanting, craving, slaking his desire for Billy’s taste, the smell that had tormented brain for a month because Billy soaked his sheets -
“Take a shower with me.”
“Mhmm,” Steve answered in their kiss, before Billy’s hand gripped him through his khakis. He gasped and spasmed, his swollen lips grimacing through a quiet whine. It melted into a moan as Billy left a trail of kisses across Steve’s cheek to his jaw, cupping and stroking through the fabric.
“Shower,” he swallowed. “Shower, okay.”
“Good boy,” Billy purred into his neck.
Steve thought his eyes might’ve rolled inside his skull if he hadn’t felt inclined to huff, “Don’t say that.”
Billy laughed again, beginning to draw them toward the large shower cubicle. “I know very well obedience isn’t your thing.”
“Why didn’t you visit for a month?” Steve couldn’t stop himself. Even as Billy worked his pants off and the conversation paused for his shirt to get yanked over his head.
“I was busy.”
“Busy,” he grumbled inside the shirt before his hair ballooned out of it.
“Making sure you were safe. I had a lot to clean up. Still do.”
“So I’m still just a spontaneous walk-in?”
Billy looped his towel around Steve’s shoulders to reel him toward the shower until he threw the towel away. “I don’t let just anyone into my shower, Steve.”
“Yeah, because you’re - mhmm...”
Billy pressed him against the wall of the shower, kissing his mouth, his ears, his throat. “I’m what?”
“High maintenance with low standards,” Steve croaked.
“My standards are extremely high,” he purred, satisfaction dripping through his voice as he watched the wanton grimace on Steve’s face as he stroked his cock. “I’m going to take you now, and then we’re going out to dinner, and then I’ll have you again in bed. Mine, this time.”
Steve held onto his work while Billy - potentially the most dangerous man in town - got on his knees.
