#sorcery writes

[thissortofsorcery]

I bring you… PAIN!!!!!! Inspired by @ihni who suggested I write something post Barbarian Youth. It isn’t their actual prompt, but I wanted to write some kind of teary reunion!

THIS IS THE STEVE LOVES BILLY BRIGADE!!!!!

“Billy…” the words leave Steve’s mouth in a whisper, and his chest heaves like he’s been hit by a cannon ball. He might as well have been.

In the darkness, twenty feet in front of him, Billy Hargrove stands battered and bloody. He has an axe in his hand, and his shoulders are squared and his feet are planted liked he’s gearing up for a fight. He’s the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever seen in his life. The one thing Steve would give his life to see.

Billy Hargrove, who’s supposed to be dead.

He hasn’t seen Billy in six months. Not since that night at the mall, when Billy had fallen to the ground with his chest ripped open and gasping for a breath that would never come. Not since the Mind Flayer took him. Not since Billy disappeared, yanked into a gate right in front of Steve’s eyes, only to reappear the next day like nothing had happened.

They’d been driving around Hawkins, late at night and with the windows rolled down to fight off the summer heat, Billy’s music playing loudly out of the Camaro’s speakers. They’d been driving past the steel mill when something ran out in front of the car, so fast and so sudden that Billy’s attempt to swerve had made them spin out and hit a pole.

Steve’d hit his head on the window, and his vision was still swimming when he heard Billy get out of the car. He’d called his name, but Billy didn’t hear him. Next thing he knew something had gotten hold of Billy, yanking him back by his foot towards the steel mill. And Steve wasn’t fast enough.

Steve remembers that night like it was yesterday. He’s gone through every detail, every angle, every mistake he made that night a hundred times over. Every second of that night is burned into his brain forever. The sound Billy’s body made as he was dragged across the ground. The shriek of the creature when it grabbed him. The look on Billy’s face when he realized Steve wouldn’t get to him in time.

So it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense that Billy wouldn’t be standing there in front of him, looking like he’d seen a ghost, because Steve was the one seeing a ghost. It’s a near perfect image of Billy, straight from the night that he was taken. A white tank top, the leather jacket that Steve had bitched at him about wearing in the middle of summer, the earring dangling from his ear - almost perfect, except for the way his clothes were dirty and ragged, his face was streaked with blood, and his hair - Jesus, how he’d missed Billy’s hair - was a mess around his shoulders, curls askew in a way Billy wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. He’s a haunting vision in the darkness of the Upside Down, spores falling around them like snowflakes.

But then the ghost speaks: “Steve…?” like he’s just as confused as Steve, like he can’t believe his eyes either. The axe Billy’s holding falls to the ground with a thump.

Steve barely registers himself moving, barely feels his feet eating the distance between him and Billy. Everything else stops existing, there are no more demogorgons haunting the Upside Down, and Nancy and Jonathan and Robin rent right behind him. Steve’s in a dream, a beautiful, horrible dream, but one he wouldn’t want to wake up from, not if Billy’s there.

A second later they’re colliding, arms wrapped around each other so tight they can’t breathe. Steve can feel something damp on his neck, where Billy’s hiding his face, and his shoulders are heaving. A second later the sound of Billy’s sobbing reaches his ear, and Steve can’t hold back his own tears.

This is impossible, and incredible, and a distant part of his mind is screaming at him - if this is Billy, has he spent this whole time in the Upside Down on his own? Should Steve have been looking for him all this time? Oh god, Steve left him here - but Steve doesn’t want to listen. If he does, he might wake up.

And that’s the last thing he wants, to wake up from this dream. He’s dreamt a million times about finding Billy, dreamt that he was alive, but this dream is the most real one yet.

[thissortofsorcery]

Thinking about how insufferably smug billy would be once he realised he was Steve’s bi-awakening 😌

Oh he WOULD be. He's so obsessed with Steve - crush at first sight - that when he hears the Steve never really thought about guys before Billy started grinding up on him during basketball practice...

Imagine it like this: after they get together, Billy kind of assumes that Steve must have at least fumbled around with a guy before - but that's mostly due to Tommy's obvious jealousy rather than anything Steve does. Though the lack of a freakout (because monsters) is a little sus too.

And then, one day Steve is like in a reflective mood. They're cuddling on the living room couch, Billy's back to Steve's chest, snug in between Steve's long legs. Steve's stroking a hand over Billy's naked torso, feeling him up a little because obviously, and Billy hums, stretches his back and looks back at Steve, says:

"You really like my chest, huh."

Steve's hand pauses over Billy's left right pec, thumb brushing over a nipple, making Billy twitch. There's a pause before he answers, and his voice is soft and mellow.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I mean, it's a really nice chest."

Billy laughs. "I know." He licks his lips. "What do you like about it?" He asks, and he tells himself it's because he wants to hear Steve say how hot he is, and not due to any lingering insecurities about being the first guy Steve's dated.

Steve breathes deep, and Billy's body moves with it, like they're one.

"I like that it's firm," Steve says, running his fingers lightly over Billy's sternum. "I like how wide it is. I like your nipples. Round and brown." Steve's pinky brushes over Billy's nipple, light as a feather, and Billy shivers. "I like how hard you work on it."

Billy turns his head to stare resolutely ahead, willing his face to cool because he's sure he's bright red. Steve's hand is distracting, and his words wash over Billy like cool ocean water, lighting him up from the inside and settling something warm deep in his chest.

"Careful, Harrington," Billy goads. "Or I might think you like me, or something."

Steve's breath is a huff against Billy's ear.

"I mean, I do. Thought it was obvious," Steve says. "You know I'd never thought about a guy like this before I met you."

Steve says it off-handedly, like it's common knowledge, but Billy can't hold in a surprised gasp, breath hitching at the very idea.

"I thought-"

"Thought what?" Steve asks, nose brushing over the shell of Billy's ear like he has no idea what it's doing to Billy's dick.

"You and Tommy never...?"

And Steve laughs, the fucker. "Tommy? No, man." His voice goes a little quiet. "You're the first guy I ever saw and thought like... 'Wow. He's gorgeous. I wonder what his lips taste like.' You know?"

"Yeah," Billy says, hand squeezing around Steve's knee. He knows the feeling a little too well, though Steve was far from the first guy he looked at with interest. But he is the prettiest, and he's by far the nicest guy he's been with, hands down, enough that sometimes Billy wonders what he did to deserve a guy like Steve. To deserve the kind of relationship they have.

It can only be described as wonder, the feeling that spreads through his chest, warm and fluttery. It's Billy who turned Steve's head, who pulled his pigtails until Steve paid attention, who plagued Steve's thoughts. Billy's the guy for whom Steve decided to get on his knees for the first time, who gets dicked down regularly and cuddled with in equal measure. Billy put in the work to get his attention and it paid off.

Suck it, Tommy.

"You couldn't resist me, huh?" Billy says, kind of joking and kind of not. "Couldn't wait to get a piece of me."

Steve huffs a laugh against Billy's ear again. "Nope."

"I mean, I am the best ass in Hawkins," Billy goes on. "We've established that."

"Sure have."

"When did you realize you wanted me?" Billy asks, all smug. "Was it during basketball? Shirt off, all sweaty all over your back?"

"You smiled at me," Steve says, and Billy feels like he's been hit over the head. "I mean, the real one. With the dimples. After we won that last game in December. You smiled at me, and I really wanted to kiss you."

"Oh," Billy says. "All I had to do was smile at you?" He feels a little big indignant, but he'll take it.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I mean, I was looking during basketball practice. It was a little rough trying to play with a half-chub all the time."

"How do you think I felt?" Billy grumbles. "With those tiny shorts of yours?"

"You like my shorts."

"Yeah, I like the shorts, that's beside the point." Billy wriggles around until he's laying on his stomach, chest to chest with Steve. "You wanted me," he says, lips stretched in a smile so wide it shows all his teeth.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I did."

Steve brushes away a curl from Billy's face, finger poking at the dimple on his cheek. Billy has no choice but to kiss him.

---

Not sure this was what you had in mind but I had to do it!

[thissortofsorcery]

Steve’s got Billy figured out, now.

Since he arrived in Hawkins, Billy’s been all sharp edges and sharper words, pointed barbs digging into the spaces between his ribs, always right where it hurts. Even after they’d started to hang out more, let the hostility die down, Billy was still just as likely to insult as he was to tease.

Billy likes to push. Likes to needle and prod at people’s defenses, looking for landmines to step on so he can take them all out at once, the bloodier the better. Likes to goad people into throwing a punch before they can decide Billy isn’t worth sticking around for. Steve can relate.

It took Billy a while to get that Steve wasn’t leaving. That no matter how acid his tone was or how threatening he could make himself sound, Steve wasn’t buying it. And he wasn’t budging.

It’s hard to describe how things changed when Billy truly started to let himself believe Steve was sticking around. From one moment to the next it’s like Billy melted. The tough exterior gone like thawing ice, leaving behind only Billy’s lax, pliant body; soft and trusting and Steve’s.

Before, Billy was all smirks and sneers, fingers squeezing Steve’s hips and thighs just a little too tight. A touch of desperation and a touch of spite, like he was daring Steve to tell him he was too much. Like he was expecting it.

The first time he heard Billy’s soft sighs it hit him like a freight train - that no one had ever heard this sound before. No one that's ever slept with Billy was allowed to hear Billy shudder and gasp, to hear his breath hitch, has ever seen what was once a tightly controlled body go pliant like Billy did under Steve’s hands. It was heady, and it was powerful.

When Steve kisses along the tan column of Billy's neck, he can feel every shiver that runs through Billy's body, his skin trembling under Steve's lips. A well placed suck, a stinging bite, and Billy's thighs fall open of their own accord, inviting Steve to press closer, to press in. And Steve does, eyes roving over Billy's gorgeous body, his heaving chest; he watches Billy's breath stutter as Steve opens him up with his fingers slowly, one at a time, counting the seconds between Billy's gasps like it's a competition.

Billy's hips hitch, trying to roll along to Steve's rhythm, but he doesn't let Billy catch up. He presses deep and then quick and then slow again, watching Billy's eyes go hazy and his cheeks flush as Steve brings him close to the brink.

But the best part is when Billy says Steve's name, barely above a whisper because he can't catch his breath, head thrown back and mouth gaping open. His blush goes all the way down to his chest, strong enough to show up under his tan, spreading out toward his nipples, that are already hard and rosy. His curls bounce when Steve thrusts in hard, little ah-ahs escaping his bitten-red lips, and Steve can't look away. Could never look away.

Billy sobs when he comes, face scrunched up and neck taut, hands wrapped tight around Steve's forearms. Steve can't help but kiss him, nip his bottom lip then lick into his mouth, feeling Billy's ragged breaths fan across his face. Billy's shaking, thighs quivering with aftershocks, body completely lax and covered in sweat.

Steve lets him catch his breath, waits until Billy's blinking dazedly up at him, smiling softly. Then he starts thrusting again, slow and deep, just to hear Billy keen. He's so gorgeous like this, completely undone. So pretty.

The second time Billy comes it's gonna be even prettier.

[thissortofsorcery]

Finding out that Billy had never been with anyone comes as a surprise, to say the least. 

It’s been a month since Billy kissed Steve, pulled him close by the neck of his red sweater and slotted their lips together, pressed his tongue into Steve’s mouth and turned his life upside down. Steve can’t get enough of him since. 

All they’ve done in the past month is kiss, going so far as to roll around in Steve’s bed one afternoon, only for Billy to pull away abruptly once their hips touch. 

Steve watches as Billy lays back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling, both hands clenched into fists. 

The thing is, Steve doesn’t mind that they’re not having sex. He’d gladly kiss Billy all day if that’s all he wants to do, but it weirds him out a little how Billy pulls away like he’s been burned when things were fine a second ago. 

“Are… You okay?” Steve asks, the words coming out slow and tentative. 

“Yep,” Billy says tightly. Steve’s having a hard time believing him. 

“You don’t look okay, man,” he tries. Billy only grunts in response. His face is twisted up in a scowl, but the look in Billy’s eyes is a little distant, like he’s… concentrating? “Is this a werewolf thing?” 

Billy’s silent for a long time, enough that Steve doesn’t think he’s gonna answer. 

“No,” Billy says, finally, and Steve can feel the zing of the lie in the air. He frowns. 

“You know I don’t care about that stuff, right?” Steve says. “Like, I know you’re extra strong and fangy, but I’m just as magic as you are.”

“It’s not about the fangs,” Billy spits out, showing actual anger for the first time the whole day. 

“So what is it about, then?” Steve insists, searching Billy’s face for an answer. Then his eyes flick down to Billy’s hands, which are still clenched tight. “Is it about the claws?”

“Shut up,” Billy says. Too quickly.

“Oh my God, it is!” Steve’s jaw drops, and he sits up abruptly. 

Billy grunts, half a huff and half a snarl, pushing himself off the bed and stomping toward the door.

“Wait, Billy, come on!” 

Steve reaches out, and his hand closes around Billy’s wrist. For a second, he thinks Billy is going to snap, is going to push him against the wall and snarl in his face, but Billy just… stops. He goes completely still, refusing to look at Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Steve pleads. He doesn’t feel right letting Billy leave like this, on this sour note, and the need to pull Billy against his body, wrap him up close, sticks to his throat. “I didn’t mean to push you. It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it.” 

Billy lets out a harsh breath, and Steve can see his jaw tense like he’s trying to grind his teeth into dust. But his wrist turns in Steve’s grasp and slips through his fingers until their palms slot together, soft and warm. Billy turns around.

“It’s not…” Billy starts, then stops, twisting his mouth into a grimace. “I just don’t wanna hurt you,” is what he settles on. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he adds when Steve opens his mouth to protest. “You don’t have invulnerable fucking skin. What if I lose focus at the wrong time, and my claws catch on your scalp? On your throat?” 

Billy finally looks at him, and Steve sighs, shoulders going lax, all tension leaving him in one moment. Billy doesn’t look angry. He looks tentative and unsure, and more open than he’s been the entire time they’ve been doing this.

“Okay. I get it,” Steve says, voice dipping to a low murmur. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about that.” 

“Yeah,” Billy says, and they go quiet. He does step closer, though, and half-leans against Steve, digging his nose into Steve’s neck. He can feel Billy breathe in deep, and Steve lifts a hand to wrap around Billy’s waist.

“I just thought… The girls you’ve been with, they’re mostly human… And none of them found out about you being a werewolf, so I…” Steve starts, but is cut off by a snort coming from Billy. The hot air from his breath tickles Steve’s neck, and he shivers.

“I don’t lose my focus around girls. Not like when I’m around you,” Billy says, barely above a whisper. Steve feels his breath catch, and wants so badly to say me too, you make me feel like that too, but Billy speaks again, dragging his nose across Steve’s skin as he lifts his head to look at him. “Besides, I never do more than make out with them. It’s never been a problem before.” 

Steve freezes, hand going still where it’s been stroking Billy’s side. 

“You’ve never…?” He lets the question hang in the air, and Billy stiffens. 

“That a problem?” His voice is carefully even, face going blank, and Steve panics.

“No! No, of course not. No,” Steve hurries to say, squeezing Billy’s hand tightly. “It doesn’t matter. Well, I matter a little, but like, not in a bad way, I just— I mean—” Steve takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. We can— We’ll figure it out together,” he says. Pleads. 

Billy huffs a laugh, lips forming that smug smirk that Steve once found infuriating but now only fills his stomach with warmth. 

“Yeah, alright,” Billy says, nosing at Steve’s neck again. “I guess I’d like that.” 

---

I set out to write werewolf smut but ended up with fluff instead, which is so on brand for me actually. I'm having a lot of fun with this AU right now.

[thissortofsorcery]

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race!! It's been so much fun so far, and I'm so excited to share my piece!

Thank you so much to @kuroubojin for passing the baton to me 💕

--

Billy thought that finally getting King Steve into bed would be different. 

Well, he didn’t think he’d actually get King Steve into bed, in the first place. But as much as Billy hates to admit it, now that he has, he’s feeling a little out of his depth.

In the many, many times he thought about what sex with Harrington would be like, he’d pictured something a little more… Wild. He thought fucking Harrington would be like a fight, biting and clawing and pushing to see who’s gonna come out on top. He thought he’d have to wrestle King Steve down and show him who the real king was, and it would be rough and hot and loud. Impersonal, though. Billy likes to get off fast and easy, after all. There’s no reason to draw it out or to linger after. 

But. But. 

Harrington caught him off guard. Billy never expected the teasing and the pigtail-pulling to pay off in the first place. He didn’t think he’d actually see Harrington’s fire turned on him, giving as good as he got, every barb out of Billy’s mouth being met with burning words and an upturned nose. It only egged Billy on more. 

It came to a point where Billy couldn’t put his eyes on Harrington without his whole body responding, heart thrumming and veins singing with adrenaline, palms sweaty at the sight of an answering smirk. 

And now, well. 

Running into each other at the quarry turned into a shared case of beer and a cigarette, turned into this. 

Billy pinned down on the backseat of Harrington’s damn BMW, leather seats sticking to his sweaty back. Billy doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing; all he knows is that he lost his shirt somewhere in the middle, and his jeans are open and rucked down to his hips. Harrington’s skin is hot, feverish under Billy’s fingertips, soft skin covering firm, defined muscles that roll with every movement of Harrington’s hips. 

Billy’s never cared much about kissing, but he can’t get enough of Harrington’s mouth. It’s obvious that he likes it, having latched onto Billy’s lips however long ago and not relented since. Billy’s not complaining. Harrington finds places in Billy’s mouth that he never thought could feel this good, takes over every one of his senses easy as breathing. He’s a tall wave bowling Billy over, taking up all the space in his head and chest and lungs, and it’s all he can do to hold on. 

There’s no fighting while they fuck, no raucous and derisive laughter, taking potshots at each other like they have something to lose. 

It’s good. 

Billy was sure it would be, but… It’s like nothing he’s felt before. Harrington is everywhere; the scent of his hair products in Billy’s lungs, the taste of his sweat on Billy’s tongue, his body a heavy weight on top of Billy’s. His name on Billy’s lips, a litany of Steve, Steve, Steve that Billy barely registers is coming from him. 

Harrington’s mouth never leaves his skin, not for a second, the maddening slide of his tongue leaving a line of fire wherever it goes. Harrington’s breath is hot on his neck. 

Billy can’t figure out why it feels so overwhelming, why this feels so different from anyone else he’s fucked before. After a while, he stops trying to. 

By the end, Billy doesn’t know which way is up, if it’s been minutes or hours. He can barely hear himself breathe over the thundering of his pulse in his ears. He forgets that he’s not supposed to drag this out, that he’s not supposed to linger, too busy riding the aftershocks of the pleasure Harrington brought out on his body. 

He’s struck dumb. Or fucked stupid, more like. 

This is nothing like he thought it was going to go. It was supposed to be about getting off, but Harrington turned it around on him. 

The backseat is cramped, and Billy’s skin is uncomfortably sticky against the warm leather, but his body sings when Harrington rearranges them so Billy’s lying on top, on his stomach, and with his nose tucked into Harrington’s neck. 

“C’mere,” is all Harrington says. Then he drapes his dumb members only jacket over Billy’s back. “I know how cold you get.”

Billy thinks he might be able to fall asleep like this. He’s not even itching for a cigarette. 

“You good?” Harrington says, and Billy grins against his chest. Harrington’s chest hair tickles his lips. 

“You gotta ask?” Billy laughs, a soft, light thing. He didn’t know he was capable of making a sound like that. 

Billy still can’t feel his toes, but he’s not gonna tell him that. 

“Dunno,” Harrington mumbles. There’s a note of uncertainty to his voice now, a dip in his confidence that Billy wasn’t expecting, not now.

Billy lifts his head to rest his chin on Harrington’s chest. He’s staring at the darkened car ceiling, but his hand is tight on Billy’s hip. 

“Could be better,” Billy says, and Harrington’s eyes jump to him, a touch too wide. Billy’s smirk grows. “The beer’s outside.”

Harrington bursts out laughing, pale throat stretched and gleaming in what little light spills into the car.

“If I go out and get it you’re gonna freeze to death,” he says, one hand coming up to Billy’s face. The tips of his fingers stroke lightly over his forehead, almost imperceptible, and push a stray curl away from Billy’s eyes. 

It hits him then, why everything feels so different from his other fucks. He barely has two brain cells left to rub together, caught in Harrington’s warm gaze, and it’s been niggling at him this whole time. How is it that Harrington can make Billy’s brain just shut off. 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Billy mumbles distractedly.

“No.” Harrington’s smile goes soft around the edges, and his fingers stroke Billy’s cheek. “I wouldn’t.”

Harrington’s looking at him like he’s precious. Like something he wants to keep. 

Billy’s retort gets lost on the way to his mouth.

“I’m good,” is what he ends up saying. Harrington smiles. 

He is good, Billy thinks. Right here, under Harrington’s jacket, legs tangled together, the chill of the night shut away for now. 

He’s better than he’s been in a while. 

--

Thank you for reading my piece!

Please look forward to the next one, done by the the lovely @billysblueeyes!!!! Go go go!!

[thissortofsorcery]

30. “this is my husband/boyfriend”

SURPRISE!!!!!! Damn, you all sent me these prompts over a year ago, and I really dropped the ball. I finally got around to writing now that I'm trying to get back into writing slowly after taking a long break. Writing about the boys made me so so happy, I missed them so much. I hope you enjoy this, even a year later!

----

Soft prompt number 30: This is my boyfriend

Billy flicks the turn signal to park the Camaro on the curb, trying to ignore the anxious clench of his stomach. 

He hears the crunch of the leaves under the tires; the sidewalk is littered with them, yellow and orange and brown, picked from the branches of the trees by the wind. Fall is in full swing in early November, and Billy shivers at the cold air coming through the open window. He’s less annoyed with the cold than he used to be back when he first moved to Hawkins, but it’s still terrible. He’s bundled up in enough layers under his leather jacket as it is; Joyce wouldn’t let him leave the house without putting a sweater on, rambling about the weather in Indianapolis. 

Billy double-checks the address Steve sent him on the GPS needlessly — the university library stands tall and imposing to his left, the red bricks of the building looking faded in the watery light coming through the heavy clouds. It’s a two-story building that stretches wide across the lawn, with large windows and glass doors on the entrance. 

Steve is waiting for him on the steps.

He looks up toward Billy’s direction as soon as he steps out of the Camaro, familiar with the squeaky noise the door makes when it’s opened. There’s a grin stretching his lips wide, white teeth showing and eyes crinkling, and Steve climbs down the library steps two at a time. His gaze only leaves Billy to glance down at his own feet, trying not to trip on the steps.

Their bodies meet with a thud in the middle of the lawn, Steve’s arms coming down around his back tightly, and Billy sighs as he sinks his face into Steve’s neck and breathes him in. He smells just as Billy remembers.

The cold wind doesn’t break through the warmth of Steve’s arms, and Billy’s body relaxes, leaning his weight on Steve almost completely. Steve only hugs him tighter, holding him up easily — like he’s always done.

The tight fist in Billy’s chest lets go, maybe for the first time since Steve left Hawkins to go to college in September.

Rationally, Billy knew Steve wasn’t far, with Indianapolis being only a couple hours away from Hawkins, but not seeing Steve every day at school was more jarring than Billy had anticipated when Steve graduated in May. 

Billy knows from personal experience how insular Hawkins is. If moving from San Diego to a small town had been a shock, he can only imagine that moving from Hawkins to Indianapolis must feel the same, only in reverse.

Steve’s world expanded far beyond the comfortable bubble they lived in during the summer, and he met a host of interesting people he told Billy about during their calls, making friends quickly. Billy was happy for him; Steve still had some insecurities from the year he spent friendless aside from Nancy Wheeler, and Billy was glad he had people who saw Steve the way he did.

But there was still a niggling voice on the back of Billy’s mind, insisting Steve would get sick of him eventually. It fades down to silence now, blown out like a candle by Steve’s presence and his warmth, by the way he smiles at Billy like there’s no one else he’d rather put his eyes on.

“I missed you,” Steve says, and then he presses a kiss to Billy’s lips — with all the sweetness and hunger that Billy’s always felt from Steve, the feeling that Billy clings to when Steve’s not there, like an old sweatshirt that still holds his scent. Billy doesn’t wait a second before licking at Steve’s lips, turning the kiss dirtier than it should be in a public space, but Billy doesn’t care. Steve’s hands come to cradle Billy’s face, but not to push him away (they never do). Steve’s fingertips catch on Billy’s jaw, dig into his hair, until he can’t stop a shudder from going down his spine. Only then does Steve pull away, a smug smirk clinging to his spit-slick lips.

“Dickhead,” Billy grumbles, knees still weak, and Steve huffs a quiet laugh. Billy raises his eyes to meet Steve’s, eyelashes fluttering, and it’s like a punch to the gut and the first gulp of air after coming up from underwater. 

“I’m glad you could make it,” Steve says, but he doesn’t move an inch away from where his nose is grazing Billy’s, so the words are spoken onto Billy’s lips. “Let me show you—” 

A wolf whistle interrupts Steve’s words, and Billy sees Steve’s cheeks turn crimson before he pulls away to look back towards the library. He can’t help but scowl at having his moment disrupted — he wasn’t done with Steve.

“Hey, Harrington!” An unfamiliar voice calls, three college kids standing by the library steps, grinning with mirth. Billy identifies the one in the middle as the one who spoke, the only guy in the group, with a douchey beanie and vintage glasses, the embodiment of the college students Billy imagined luring Steve’s attention away from him. Billy notes the breadth of his shoulders and his square jaw, and his stomach turns sour. “Who’s your friend?” 

This is what Billy’s been afraid of. The demotion from boyfriend to situationship, the “I want to see other people” said into a phone late at night. Being brushed off in front of Steve’s new, interesting friends. 

Billy stands up straight and squares his shoulders, tilts his chin up so he can look at the group down his nose; the same stance he takes when he’s facing down something he wants to bowl over. Something he’s scared of.

But Steve turns back to look at Billy, and the warmth in his eyes hasn’t diminished at all. His thumb strokes Billy’s cheek before he slides his hands down Billy’s arms, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. When Steve answers, he’s grinning, wide and happy, teeth showing — the same smile Billy saw all summer.

“This is Billy,” Steve says. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

And Billy breathes out, the weight of his doubts falling from his shoulders and being brushed away in the autumn wind.

Steve squeezes his hand, and Billy squeezes back.

[thissortofsorcery]

ok but

a fic where Anakin’s had a crush on Obi-Wan since forever, and actually makes a move when he’s like sixteen. But Obi-Wan sits him down and explains very kindly how anyone his own age being attracted to a teenager would be actually terrible, and very unsafe. Anakin stubbornly refuses to accept that, but Obi-Wan just shakes his head and says Anakin will understand when he’s older (Obi-Wan doesn’t feel anything but familial love for Anakin at this point)

And then, when Anakin gets a padawan of his own, he approaches Obi-Wan to say that actually, his Master was right. It wouldn’t be a good thing for a Master to be into their padawan like that. He’s grateful Obi-Wan dealt with it so carefully and turned him down.

And then, as the clone wars stretch on, Obi-Wan comes to realize just how much his feelings for Anakin have changed. And it’s too late now - Anakin’s made it perfectly clear how he wouldn’t welcome Obi-Wan’s feelings.

(Of course, Obi-Wan is wrong)

[thissortofsorcery]

A little more Witch!Steve and Werewolf!Billy pspspspspspspsps

It’s juicer this time

—

"Billy? What the hell happened?!"

Steve has said these words before, in a variety of tones and levels of exasperation, but now they ring out to the open sky with a sharp note of desperation.

Billy's bleeding in his backyard.

Steve kneels down beside him where he's slumped over one of the lounge chairs, arms akimbo and on his side. There's a faint whistling sound when he breathes. Steve hasn't really been trained in healing past the basics, nothing like his mom was, so he doesn't know exactly how bad it is. He just knows it's bad.

"Billy?" Steve says, voice trembling to match the hand hovering over Billy's head. Billy doesn’t answer, hasn’t answered this whole time, and Steve is starting to panic. “Billy, come on!”

Billy starts awake when Steve’s hand lands on his shoulder, flinching away and immediately groaning in pain. But he relaxes when his eyes settle on Steve, bruised and swollen as they are.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy slurs, making an attempt at a smirk. It comes out more of a grimace.

“Billy, what the fuck,” Steve says. He can’t see where Billy is injured in the position he’s in, but even his denim jacket is stained a horrible, dark red. “Let me see.”

Steve tries to move Billy onto his back, touching him gently; perhaps more gently than he’s ever touched anything, even Nancy. Still, a thin moan of pain escapes from Billy’s throat, and Steve bits his lip so he doesn’t start yelling his head off. He needs to keep cool right now, or he won’t be any help to Billy.

He has the awful urge to vomit when he sees Billy’s front; what’s left of his white t shirt is soaked through with blood, and it’s in ribbons. So is his abdomen.

“How did this happen? Talk to me, man,” Steve pleads, touching Billy’s chest with a careful hand. It’s the oddest thing, though, barely any blood stains his fingers when he shifts, as if the blood is almost dry. Like the wounds aren’t fresh.

Steve’s never seen Billy with wounds older than, like, fifteen minutes. He heals fast, even for a wolf.

“You should see the other guy,” Billy mumbles. It sounds like bullshit.

“Billy, why aren’t you healing?” Steve asks. “I’ve seen you heal a broken leg in two minutes, man, what the fuck.”

“I’m fine,” Billy grunts. Then he tries to push himself up, like he’s going to try to leave.

“Stop doing that, dickhead, you’re gonna make it worse!” Steve snaps, trying to keep Billy still. They stare each other down for what feels like eternity until Billy huffs and lies back down. “You’re obviously not fine.”

“I’m gonna heal eventually,” Billy insists.

“Before you bleed out? Or can you heal from that too?!” Steve says, voice ringing sharply in the open yard. “Tell me what happened so I can help you! Are you poisoned? Why aren’t you healing?”

“It was just a fight,” Billy says, but he doesn’t have the energy to make it sound like the truth.

“Yeah, with a fucking dinosaur apparently,” Steve grumbles, while trying to push Billy’s clothes away to get a better look.

He looks awful. He looks like he should be dead. For a moment, Steve feels hopeless; he doesn’t know enough about healing to fix this, not if there’s anything in Billy’s system that’s keeping his own advanced healing from kicking in. Steve feels terrified, and young, desperately wishing his mom was here. She’d know what to do. But she’s out of town.

Steve can’t leave Billy like this. He’s gonna have to do something.

“Okay, I can do this,” Steve mutters under his breath, taking a deep breath.

—

Then something happens, I haven’t thought about a magic system yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ don’t kill me