draculcid

[draculcid]

i think after they’ve been dating for a while and after they’d had sex more times than they can count (not the sex that ended with billy pulling his pants up and driving away mere minutes after he cums. the one that ended with “hey, no, don’t go shower yet..I just wanna look at you”), billy comes to the conclusion that he might possibly want to try bottoming.

he always had this deep rooted thought that bottoming would be more sinful than topping (no matter how angelic he thought steve looked under him, bottom lip tucked under his teeth and hair matted to his forehead).

it was fucking terrifying bringing up the fact that he wanted to try bottoming with steve, who just held billy’s hands in his and said “stop fidgeting. do you want me to teach you how to prep?”

okay. but it wasn’t as terrifying as what being cared for felt like.

wasn’t as terrifying as the way steve would say “hey, it’s just me. it’s just me. you know me, yeah?” everytime they got close and billy would start breathing a little heavier. wasn’t as terrifying as when billy finally did it, tense, steve kissed his back so gently that billy probably wouldn’t have felt it if it wasn’t for steve’s hair falling onto his back

#actually i’m not gonna finish this #i don’t have thoughts #love is overwhelming #is it harringrove if ur not projecting ur experience with ur partner #nsft #slightly ig #harringrove

[draculcid]

So first, Israel raids Jenin then shoots Shireen Abu Akleh (Palestinian Journalist working for Al Jazeera) while she was clearly wearing a "press" vest and they keep the fire ongoing after she drops making it extremely hard to get to her and for her to receive medical attention.

Then, they have the audacity to raid her funeral and beat the mourners & people at the procession.

Oh, not to mention the audacity to claim it wasn't them despite what witnesses have said and to pin it on Palestinians (which flips it into a "they said x" and "they said y" completely changing the focus of the narrative detracting from her death).

And now, they launch airstrikes onto Syria??

What the fuck? Can they not take a break from the needless cruelty, violence and murder?

[draculcid]

This is Steve’s favorite part. 

Sometimes he can argue with himself that of course getting off is his favorite part, that’s how this whole thing started. 

But he’s been trying not to lie as much lately. At least to himself. 

His favorite part is what happens right after that, right after Billy’s tipped his head back a little and let his eyes flutter closed and bitten his own lip to the point of bleeding just like he’s done to Steve a million times, his groan all long and drawn out. 

Because after that, when Billy opens his eyes again, he just looks at Steve. 

This part makes Steve feel special, because he doesn’t think there’s any other way to look like that- completely unguarded, almost happy about it. And the harder Steve works him the longer it lasts- Billy’s particular version of afterglow. Steve doesn’t know if Billy uses it as an excuse or if he really lets himself let go. 

This particular time, Billy’s lips are parted- he’s catching his breath breathing out of his mouth. A bead of sweat trails down his hairline. His skin shimmers in the half light of Steve’s room. And he’s looking right at Steve, like there’s nothing else to look at, like Steve’s the only thing worth going through his brain. 

It won’t last long, doesn’t usually last longer than a few minutes when Billy’s laughing and saying some kidding-on-the-square thing about Steve’s “performance”. Bits and pieces of it get left over if billy stays the night. It’s always gone by morning. 

This particular time though, Steve’s just staring back, soaking up the feeling of being thought about, felt, when Billy reaches up a hand, and touches Steve’s cheek. 

Billy doesn’t get super touchy feely about anything. 

Steve leans into the touch, thinks how he must look wrecked, mostly because he feels wrecked, feels like he could pass out but he can’t because he’s got to look at Billy while the moment lasts, while the world is perfect. 

Billy swipes his tongue over his bottom lip before he speaks, breath above a rasped whisper. “This is my favorite part.”

#yea #very good #screaming crying throwing up

[draculcid]

characters who arent canonically gay but whose behavior just makes no sense unless you read them as gay

[draculcid]

a commission for @chrisbitchtree i had so much fun drawing this and im very excited to share it with everyone ☺️

heres the shirt logo and a sweet lil close up ♥️

#HELLO THIS IS SO CUTE #their hair just looks so nice #and the COLOURS #beautiful

[draculcid]

hey guys i’m not actually gonna write this properly but headcanon that billy has protanomaly colorblindness and his sunglasses are actually colorblind glasses which is why he wears them all the time.

and if this is a modern AU sorta thing,,, he always has his phone on like the BRIGHTEST most eye searing mode because that’s better for shades of red since he cant see how bright they are if he’s not wearing his sunglasses. and he finds it funny how when he shows anything on his phone to steve, he starts rubbing his eyes off and squinting and wincing. but he never complains about how bright it is because he loves billy . okay that’s all. and they’re boyfriends

#harringrove #me posting #if anyone knows more about colour blindness and stuff u can expand #all i know is mostly from my bf

[draculcid]

While they were at school, all Steve could think about- all he wanted, needed, to do- was to hold Billy. Just hold him. He missed his boyfriend, even if he was sitting across from him, going over some notes for their upcoming test.

But he was so far away. Sometimes he felt like the Billy he knew was gone entirely, and all that he left behind was a shell that looked like him and smiled like him and talked like him, but didn't laugh or kiss the same way, didn't hold him close the way he used to, tight and confident and sure. He didn't even breathe the same way; it was as if everything he said was held back by a breath.

So Steve made a plan to talk to Billy when they met at the quarry that evening. To try out the whole communication thing they swore they’d be great at. To draw the Billy he knew- the Billy he was sure was there but buried under layers of hurt and self-destruction- out of the cocoon he coiled himself in. Even a little bit, because a little bit is better than nothing, and that's enough for Steve.

He honest-to-god wanted to follow the plan, but the minute they got there, Billy was crossing over to Steve’s beemer and then he was on his lap and then he was kissing him, soft and tender and earnest, and yeah, he was being a bit more frantic and quick-paced, but at least the kiss was sincere. At least it was honest.

And, jesus, Steve missed that. He missed that. He missed the way Billy would cup his face when he deepened the kiss, and the way he'd draw his lips back enough to make Steve think he'll stop, just to push back again. He missed the way it drove him crazy.

Steve missed this, so much, so he kissed him back, his fingers tracing the groove of his neck and down his shoulder, along the length of his side and back up again. Billy grinned into the kiss before pulling Steve impossibly closer, kissing him so urgently, as if he missed this, too.

For a moment, Steve let himself forget that this wasn't his Billy- it sure felt like his Billy. He let himself forget that this was the same Billy that distanced himself from him because he was hurt and scared, and he didn't know how to ask for help. He let himself forget that this was the same Billy that would rather have the whole world worry about him than admit he wasn't fine.

Or maybe Steve didn't forget, while he was kissing him. Maybe Billy kissing him was his way of saying sorry, and Steve kissing him back was the it's okay.

He thought maybe that meant that he didn't have to talk to him, but then his fingers brushed over Billy’s exposed stomach- where his shirt rode up- and he could feel Billy’s bruised stomach tense up underneath his fingertips, and Steve knew that he had to at least try.

Especially when Steve just. Couldn’t kiss back anymore. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the blue on his stomach and the gash on his shoulder and the almost invisible scar on his cheek.

"Steve?" Billy asked, concern washing over his features.

Steve pulled away and ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.

"Jeez, Steve..."

"You won't tell me what's wrong. You won't tell me how to help," Steve started, powering through. "Every time I ask you either deflect or get pissed-"

"Baby-"

Tears were stubbornly filling Steve’s eyes, and his voice was beginning to waver. "Don’t baby me. You think you're hiding it well, but I can tell when you're coming down from a high, or when he hits you, or even if you haven't had enough sleep. I can fucking tell."

Billy stayed silent this time, but he was looking away, eyes turning glassy. He was never good at the confrontation thing. Or the feelings thing. Or the entire Steve thing.

Steve continued. "But I don't know what you're thinking when you get high, or get hurt, or when you don’t sleep. I'm not a mind-reader, Billy. I can't figure out what's going through your head if you don't tell me. And you won't tell me, no matter how much I ask."

There are definitely tears streaming down Billy’s face now, and it's almost enough to make Steve stop talking altogether and pull Billy into a hug to try to shield him from the world. Almost.

"I can't do this anymore, Billy," Steve said, his voice finally breaking. "You can't. We can't."

"I'm sorry," Billy tried, but that wasn't enough.

"I don't want an apology, okay? You don't have anything to be sorry for. And I don't want an explanation. But I want to be here for you. I want you to let me be here for you."

Billy turned his head away, not bothering to wipe the tears making their way down his face at this point.

"Please. Let me be here for you," Steve said, desperate, his voice breaking.

For a moment, it seemed as if Billy was battling whether or not he's gonna say something. Then, he closed his eyes like he made up his mind.

"You know, you don't have to be here," he whispered, so low that Steve thought he might have misheard it, but he didn't and he knew it. "I mean- you can give up on me if it’s that much trouble.”

You can give up on me.

Like he was giving Steve permission. That sent a piercing pain through Steve’s heart.

"I don't want to give up on you," Steve replied, cupping Billy’s face with his hand and wiping his tears. "I'm not giving up on you, or on us, ever. I mean that. But I don't think I'm the one giving up."

Billy nuzzled his face into Steve’s hand as a particularly hefty sob broke through his lips.

"I'm going to ask you this one more time, Billy," Steve says, his voice clear despite the tears still filling his eyes. "What's wrong?"

For a moment, Billy’s whole body tensed up, like he was just so used to fighting, but then Steve took his hand and kissed his knuckles, and he deflated.

"I don't know," he admitted, shoulders shaking. "It's- I'm just so fucking sad."

Then he broke down, sobs tearing through him like they couldn't come out fast enough. Like he kept them trapped in him- which he probably did- and now they were escaping with vengeance. He shook so hard that Steve cupped his face again and had to talk him through breathing before he started to hyperventilate. And by the time the tears have dried and sobs have subsided to the occasional hiccup, they were lying in the back of the car, Steve holding Billy like he wanted, tangled and exhausted.

"I'm sorry for not. Talking. And like. Being that way. To you." Billy said into Steve’s chest.

"It's okay," Steve replied. He was rubbing Billy’s shoulder where the too big of a normal injury was, acknowledging that it exists and giving it love and care anyway, no matter how much pain it represented; Billy needed that love and care to soothe the pain. "You don't have to apologize. I get it."

Billy looked up at him from where his head was laying on Steve’s chest and smiled a sad, tearful, but genuine smile, with genuine emotion peaking through, instead of a wall of apathy.

I love you, that smile said. I love you.

Steve coiled one of Billy’s curls around his finger.

I love you, too.

#real #this was in my drafts for too long and i am still iffy about posting it #harringrove #headcanon #or something #ask to tag #i know its ooc im very much projecting and feel like i should delete this #tw ment of abuse #tw neil mention #kinda #idk #ask to tag idk what to tag this #me posting

[draculcid]

formally asking for more about stevebilly tics

allllllright

this is unbeta'd we die like men or whatever the ao3 tag is

-

Even after Billy's formally discharged from the hospital he has to keep going back for check ups- they wanna tap his joints and swab up his nose and scan his brain and put electrodes on his everywhere. He gets all sorts of warnings about the 'long term affects' of getting his body cracked open like chronic pain and gaps in his memory and shit and its awful but at least the drugs they give him make walking around hurt less. And he's been doing a lot of physical therapy.

The only nice thing about these doctors appointments is that Max always insists on going with him, and they get lunch after most morning appointments. Some shitty dinner off the second offramp past his fancy hospital.

At first, Billy only notices the chronic pain. And the panic attacks. And them migraines. But then he notices something else

Max drops a cup at their diner. It's a plastic cup, it doesn't break, but it's empty, and makes a resounding crack when it hits the linoleum floor. Before Billy even really registers it his head jerks subtly to the side. It startles him. He has to blink extra hard. Max is sitting back up from where she was crouched under their red-and-white booth, plastic cup unscathed in her hand. "Do you think I can still drink out of this?"

Billy just shrugs in response.

It happens again later that week. Another horrible noise. Billy wondered if noises were this terrible before Starcourt. But it's the sound of the TV this time. The shitty one he got for his new apartment, hesitant to spend too much of his hush money in case Max wants it for college. But the static. Ongoing. Its magnetic hum. At first he thinks it's just a migraine coming on, but then he's looking at the TV, and looking away, and trying to ignore it, then

"Hey, you okay?" Max asks him.

"What? Yeah I'm. I'm fine." Billy's taken aback.

"You keep like, scrunching up your nose. And blinking."

"So normal human functions."

Max rolls her eyes. "I mean like. In a way."

Billy knows what she's talking about. He realized he was doing it after she pointed it out. He even took a couple deep breathes, like maybe it was a stress response or something. But it kept happening.

The worst time by far was when he slapped the countertop. That one came out of nowhere, it was like he sort of semi-thought "what if I slapped the counter" and the next thing he knew his palm was coming down on it hard as he could manage. It hurt like a bitch, too "Why did I do that?" He said, out loud to himself.

"Tics." was the answer from his physical therapist, later that week. "Pretty normal for your situation. Nothing to worry about."

"But," Billy couldn't help but protest. "Isn't it kind of. Weird?"

His physical therapist replied that 'everything was normal'. Real helpful.

Billy resolved to try and suppress them, these 'tic' things. They were annoying at best and painful at worst. And all around horribly embarrassing that there was yet another thing wrong with his brain. So he would simply refuse to do them. Until doing that proved to make them even fucking worse. He refused to react to the sound of a car horn. Braced himself against the feeling that he just had to move his head until it was so overwhelming that the snap movement hurt his neck. He was rubbing the back of his head for the rest of the day.

Maybe he would become an invalid or something. Never leave his apartment. Never speak to or be seen by anyone other than max.

Until the unthinkable happens and someone actually notices. And just Billy's luck, that 'someone' is Steve.

Steve's been really nice to him and everything, offered him rides to his check up's when the bus wasn't running. But it wasn't like they were best friends or anything.

And Billy was in Steve's car, very much in Steve's line of site, when some something made some kind of noise and his hand tapped itself quick on the dashboard, all of its own accord.

Billy wanted to die of embarrassment, didn't know why he even looked to see Steve's reaction but when he did, he wasn't expecting what saw.

Steve was smiling, surprised.

"Sorry," Billy started, unsure how to continue when Steve cut him off. "No! No, don't be. I get them, too."

Billy looked at him a little disbelieving.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! You ever get the one where you like," Steve demonstrated tilting his head to the side, a parody of the swift jerk Billy had been experiencing. "Yeah," Billy couldn't help but light up a little. "Makes you neck hurt like hell."

"I'm not, like, used to it."

"I am," Steve laughed. "I've had 'em since I was a kid."

"I never noticed."

"They're not as noticeable as you think they are." Steve said, "And i mean, even if they were, who gives a shit, right? People should mind their business."

Billy found himself smiling a little. "Yeah. Who gives a shit."

#aw i love this #SO TRUE STEVE

[draculcid]

Head canon for your Saturday~

Steve is diabetic (type 1) and Billy starts figuring it out because that guy is always going to the front office and eating in class with no repercussions.

I don’t know how it finally clicks. Maybe Steve gets a sugar crash in gym class and everyone rushes with candy bars and sodas. Maybe Steve is just in a Mood all morning until he just…gets up and walks right out of class. Everyone’s astonished but the teacher asks Billy to make sure he gets to the office okay. Billy’s big enough to carry him if he passed out somewhere but Billy doesn’t know that until he walks in on Steve’s party trick: sticking a needle in his abdomen like it’s just another Tuesday.

“My blood sugar’s been flirting with 500 since midnight. I’m so over it.”

Billy’s just like ???????😮🤨🧐

#fic rec #fav

[draculcid]

Oh Billy….

[draculcid]

Billy definitely thinks heinous thoughts about Steve. Like I wanna fuck him and then have dinner with his parents acting like nothing happened. I want to take Polaroid pictures of him sucking my dick and keep them for myself. I want to ruin his perfect hair and suck those rosy lips till there just ready to burst under my teeth.

And steve is just like wow billy is so hot haha I wonder if he likes me back.

[draculcid]

I was originally just sketching up Billy napping with his cat that I gave him and then somewhere along the way it got away from me lol

I have a separate sketch of him napping with Coral that I’ll share later, but here’s a very simple, uh, comic? of Steve sliding in to nap with them. Maybe after the battle of StarCourt and hospitals and labs Billy is left just, so damn sleepy all the time. Home boy just needs to hibernate for a while lol

#wow art

[draculcid]

having the same problem as other anon, the tag is empty? hockey boys be on my mind, they would be so pretty on the ice

ahhh what that’s so weird. it’s working on my end so i don’t know :/ maybe try this link?

https://draculcid.tumblr.com/tagged/hockey-au

i haven’t deleted any of it!

#ask #anon

[draculcid]

did u delete your old hockey au stuff? I cant find it anymore!

heyy! no i’m pretty sure it’s still up. i bet you’ll be able to find most of it under the tag #hockey au

#ask #anon

[draculcid]

my fingertips and my lips (they burn)

a gift for @draculcid !! u r gay :/

-

Usually Billy only finds himself in the company of the one and only Steve Harrington on Friday nights. They barely cross paths at school- intentionally. School nights Billy finds himself subject to the literal hell of family dinners. But Friday nights he can say he’s going to a football game or a party or to catch a movie. And If and When Steve’s parents ever come home it’s always on Monday mornings.

And all of Billy’s happiness is localized to Friday nights. It’s gnarly compartmentalizing but it's everything to him. The drive to Steve’s house listening to his favorite music, the walk up from his car parked a few blocks away filled with anticipation, the stupid grin on Steve’s lips when he answers the door. And Billy likes getting to rip Steve’s clothes off, he likes getting off, especially if it’s on Steve’s pretty face, but the most satisfaction he gets out of Friday nights is just getting to look at Steve. Not having to count down the seconds before he should look away, not having to wonder if anyone can see him looking. He just gets to look. Sometimes he catches Steve looking back.

So imagine Billy’s surprise when he gets a phone call on a Tuesday afternoon from the one, the only. In the couple hours between getting off school and his dad getting off work, the phone rings. Max answers it, Billy’s up in his room. But a couple seconds later she’s hollering his name down the hall.

“What?” He yells back.

“Phone for you,” She sounds slightly less annoyed than usual.

“Tell them I’m dead or something!”

“It’s Steve!”

Billy’s out of his room and down the hall in seconds. But he hesitates before he takes the phone from max.

“What does he want?” Billy asks, hanging back like he doesn't have his heart in his throat. Why was Steve calling him?

“He can probably hear you, dumbass-”

Billy takes the phone, pushes her off. She pushes him back before fucking off back to the living room to watch her nerdy robot cartoon Billy pretends not to like.

“Hello?” Billy’s sure he’s given it all away with just that one word.

“Hey.” Billy can tell from Steve’s voice that he’s smiling.

“Why are you calling me?” Billy tries to sound annoyed. Not relieved. Not overjoyed. Not, well, you know.

“Am I not allowed?” “No actually. Goodbye-” “Wait, wait wait.” Steve laughs like maybe he thought Billy would actually hang up on him. “I’m calling cause I was wondering if you'd want to hangout tomorrow.”

Billy wasn't sure what he was expecting. “Tomorrow’s a Wednesday.” Is all he thinks of to say.

“Not to sleepover.” Steve reads Billy’s mind. “Just to. You know. Hangout.”

“Hangout.” Like that's something they do. “Yeah.”

Billy doesn't respond for a couple seconds.

“If you already have plans-”

“No.” Billy thinks he hears uncertainty in Steve’s voice, and he can’t have that. “I. Yeah. I’ll hang out with you.” Then, “It’ll be my good deed for the year.” Steve laughs. Billy curses the telephone gods for not doing that perfect laugh justice.

Billy won’t let Steve pick him up. Doesn't want his dad seeing who he hangs out with, and doesn't want to have to ask Steve to pick him up from a couple blocks down or some other embarrassing shit. So he’ll just leave his car in the school parking lot for the afternoon. Tell Max to skate her broke ass home if she can’t spring for the bus.

Billy spends the whole day buzzing from the inside out like a hangover for something that was yet to happen.

And he’s trying not to look like he’s nervous when Steve sees him in the parking lot and bounds over to say hey, I'm parked by the science building.

Steve does most of the talking whenever they’re together (most of the moaning, too) and right now is not different. He’s on about something someone said about someone else in one period-or-another -Billy’s not really paying attention. He just likes hearing Steve’s voice. And doesn't really know how to focus on the words.

And Billy’s been in Steve’s car before. But only in the backseat, and only at night.

It’s nice- Steve turns on the radio but says Billy can pick the station.

It smells good- smells like how everything Steve touches smells. Expensive. Warm. Sweet.

They drive for maybe a half an hour. Billy forgets to ask where they're going until they're almost there. He’s been to busy adjusting to whatever the fuck kind of social situation hanging out with someone you secretly fuck on the regular is.

The words are just out of his mouth when Steve’s pulling off the road in seemingly the middle of nowhere to park.

“This is the part where you murder me and bury my body in the woods, right?” Billy quips, idling between the door and his now empty seat.

“You overestimate me.” Steve beckons Billy around a cluster of trees and points to a very very old looking wooden sign.

West Shakamak Hiking Trail.

“State park!” He says, sticking out an arm, like it’s a grand reveal. “Well, the back of one.”

“You’re taking me. On a hike.” Billy doesn't know how he feels about this. “I’m not a husky, Harrington.”

Steve’s digging through his pockets. “Not just any hike.” He produces- ah yes. A joint.

“For a second there I thought you were going hippie dippy on me.” Billy smiles a little, already getting the lighter from his jacket pocket.

“Never.”

Maybe Steve’s idea of hanging out isn't that bad.

They’ve split joints before. But usually indoors. And Billy likes the way the smell of the joint mixes with the cool misty air out here, smells like weed and the trees. And Steve.

Steve’s telling Billy how he used to hike out here when he was in the boy scouts- of course- but there was a rockslide and it was closed for a while. Billy’s actually listening this time. Listening to Steve regaling him with the tale of the time he ate a bug on a dare. Or when he and his friends tied the nerd of their troop to a tree- Steve still felt bad about that one. And maybe it’s the joint, but Billy feels his daytime iciness melting a little, and he volunteers that he was never in boy scouts, but his mom was a real hippie, and she’d take him hiking sometimes. Then he realized he’d mentioned his mom and clammed up for a while longer. Steve either didn’t notice or didn’t put Billy on the spot.

And this was what friends did, right? Billy would do shit like this with his friends back home, but he hadn't seen their dicks. Okay, that was a lie, he’d seen most of his friends naked. Just, not in that way.

Were he and Steve friends now? Was that even possible?

“Oh, we're almost there,” Steve’s voice from up ahead pulled Billy away from his thoughts.

They’d been walking for almost-a-while. But Billy was still surprised when they emerged from the light woods onto a small pebbly cliffside. Steve walked back like he wanted to be there when Billy saw it; the view.

Off the cliffside was a wide, shallow river. And honestly Billy wouldn’t have normally been so impressed, but maybe he was just high enough. Or maybe it was that Steve had brought him here, but it was beautiful.

The drop down to the river was bathed in shadow, turning the ground purply, only a couple hours away from sunset. Light caught on the river's surface, it looked like glass. Shattering and reforming as it weaved along the cliffside. The sky around them was so blue…

“Why did you bring me here?” The words escaped Billy’s lips before he could stop them. He tore his eyes away from the view to look over at Steve- his cheeks and lips and ears were bright pink from walking in the cool, crisp air.

Steve shrugs. “I remember you said there were more, like, mountains in California so I figured. Maybe you’d like a cliff.”

Billy hadn’t realized they knew each other that well. Didn't realize he’d let himself be known that well.

They stand for a while just looking, then Steve sits on the edge, lets his legs hang over it. Billy’s a little more wary of heights, and checks to make sure there’s another ledge before sitting next to him.

The joint is almost out.

This is nice. If Billy pushes aside his obvious overthinking about how they usually spend their time together, maybe Steve was just being nice, like, doing Billy a favor as a thank you for railing him into oblivion. Or maybe he was trying to transition them from hooking up to just hanging out- or, christ, maybe he was trying to stop seeing Billy all together and felt bad, wanted to let him down easy but Billy’s been to the grand canyon and this view next to Steve is still better-

Billy’s brain goes completely quiet when he feels Steve's cold fingertips press against his on the ground between them. His heart's beating so fast it hurts- feels like it might bring tears to his eyes. Maybe that's just the hit he's taking- he’s forgotten how to exhale.

But when he does, he glances down, and sees Steve's pinky and ring fingers overlapping with his own.

It’s an invitation.

Billy isn't sure where in the hell he finds the courage to do it. But he flips his hand over.

Steve’s slides easily into it. Cold to hot.

Steve leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, resettles their hands, fingers laced. Billy can’t use any senses other than smell, flooded with Steve’s shampoo.

“Mind if I finish this?” Steve asks, grabbing the roach from Billy's nearly dead limp fingers.

“You brought it, man.”

So they aren't just friends.

And they probably aren’t just fucking either.

But they can talk about that later. Like, on their deathbeds or something.

Right now, Billy just really likes this view.

#no ur gay #this makes me have Emotions #i really like the bit about his heart beating so fast he almost feels like crying #that’s so valid #fav #fic rec #january tag #ALSO FRANK OCEAN TITLE I LOVE IT

[draculcid]

son of a preacher man (preview)

For @draculcid. this is the thing I told y'all i was working on- its my preacher's son!Steve au lmao. long time coming. this is the first couple snippets. i'm hoping it'll be somewhere in the realm of 20k- not too long.

BIG TW: religion, abuse.

love u guys! take care <3

-

The cut just above Billy’s left ear was finally healed when he got up on Sunday. Probably because he hadn't touched it at all because it felt wrong to touch because it was an accident he did it on accident-

He still found blood dried in the shell of his ear the day after.

And it makes sense- if someone was giving you a rush job haircut as part of the long list of punishments you were getting slid across God’s table- for being a heathen that he would end up accidentally gouging your head with scissors a bit.

The cut took two weeks to fully heal.

About the same time it took them to move out to Indiana.

Another one of the punishments.

Billy often wondered what the use in fighting temptation was. Fighting it seemed to make it worse. A little finger trap made of desire and depravity and loneliness. Really he’d just wanted to not be so alone.

But you can't admit that to yourself and expect to just go about business as usual. So he didn't.

And Billy didn't believe in soulmates or fate or anything like that because he liked to try and convince himself he had at least a little control over his life- what with the big man in the sky having a plan he never stopped hearing about. But it was hard

So it was fate, or it wasn't, when he first shook Steve Harington’s hand after church that less-than-godly Sunday. When he saw Steve’s eyes snap back up as fast as they had dropped down, the innate urgency that he’d buried under his skin knowing if no one went looking for it, no one would find it.

But Billy was always looking for that in other people.

But maybe it was the weather

It was going to rain. Steve was standing in the church courtyard, staring at the sky, when he decided it was probably going to rain. Robin had mentioned it earlier in the week- she was really into meteorology lately. Steve could feel it now though. The ache in his bones. Rain was a certainty. The air felt a little electric with it too, lighting maybe. A storm.

Steve was pulled from his observations by a tap on his shoulder. His mom trying to get his attention. “Steve, honey,” The cold of the stones of the courtyard outside the church seeped into him through his feet, up his legs, making him shiver when it hit his spine. “Your father and I have someone we’d like you to meet.”

Right, the family who’d just arrived from California. The family would probably be picture perfect. Just like Steve’s family. And they were, an imposing father figure with one of those gazes that made you feel like adjusting your posture. A mother who’s smile looked plaster on with mod podge. A kid daughter who didn't look all too happy to be there- like any thirteen year old was happy to be at church. And a son. About his age.

Steve shook everyone’s hand. He shook the son’s hand last.

“Billy.” No bells or whistles on his introduction of himself. His grip was stronger than anticipated.

Steve’s hands felt too-warm at the touch. “Nice to meet you.”

Ah. The storm.

Steve only had to stand by his parents to observe decorum for about twenty minutes, and as soon as he got introduced to the Hargroves he excused himself. He didn't like the kind of blue eyes that were piercing. Only because if he admitted he liked them he wasn't sure he’d figure out how to come up for air.

Speaking of air- Steve’s on his last cigarette.

He pulls it from the pack as soon as he gets to his hiding spot behind the church and thinks that the face he makes at it he should probably be making at himself.

Good job, Steve. You're even bad at being addicted to nicotine.

It’s not like he smokes that often anyway. Only on Sundays.

Billy likes church’s architecture.

That’s about the only thing he likes about it.

But when he bails on his family to walk around he is actually looking at the architecture. He’s looking for somewhere to hide.

He’ll just do a loop around the church, maybe check out the graveyard he was pretty sure he saw in the back, just for the moments respite and then maybe he could go back and not feel like shit-

He turned the corner of the back of the building and stopped in his tracks.

The pastor's son was there. Steve. That was his name, crouched on the brick ledge of the back of the building in his Sunday best. Smoking a cigarette.

There was momentary silence, one boy observing the other.

“You gonna tell on me?” Was the first thing Steve said. The smoke curled in and out of the shadow at the back of the building. It was too goddamn humid in this town.

“Not if you give me one.” Was Billy’s response.

Steve’s expression pulled with apology. “This was my last one.”

Billy was tempted to smile. “Just my luck.”

“We could split it.” Steve says, his eyes squinted slightly, looking up at Billy in the sun. “If you want.”

Billy looks around a moment, not sure if he’s expecting to see his dad lurking behind a gravestone in the dilapidated little yard. Then he shrugs, and walks to sit next to the outstretched hand.

They split the cigarette in silence.

After it was out, Billy stood up. “Thanks”

“Don’t mention it.” Steve was still sitting down.

Billy didn’t feel like saying “bye” was warranted. So he just walked away. He thought he could feel those brown eyes staring at him though. Maybe it was just the weather.

#‘20k-not too long’ … NOT TOO LONG???? #anyway yea i love this #something about the religious trauma and the shitty parents ❤️ #fav #fic rec #tw religion #tw religious trauma #january tag

[draculcid]

billy thought that after they finally got together, he’d look at steve, and he would think something cute like

i love you or you make me happy or i can’t believe you’re mine.

but in reality, when billy’s mind was quiet and he looked at steve’s eyes

(and hair)

(and nose)

(and face)

(and hands,)

the first thought that would pop into his mind is,

you make me feel stupid for loving you.

like, when steve gets hurt on a night where he impulsively goes monster-hunting, and he’s unconscious on the couch, billy holds his hand and rubs his thumb into his palm and silently chants, 

you make me feel so stupid for loving you. so, so stupid and so, so in love.

like, when steve makes him coffee in the morning and sends a dopey smile his way, so soft. billy’s knees go weak. all he can think is,

I’m so stupid for loving you.

he looks into his tender brown eyes and thinks,

you make me feel stupid for loving you.

and, like, sometimes, when they’re laying in their bed on a quiet night, tangled together in a mess of limbs and soft whispers, billy thinks it so loud he’s scared steve can hear it.

you make me stupid. so, so stupid and so, so in love.

billy would never tell this to steve though, wouldn’t even dream of it. he could almost hear steve saying, I’d never want you to feel stupid or I love you too or just

why?

and billy doesn’t have the capacity to tell him that.

but on nights like this, when billy lies awake with nothing but his thoughts, steve snoring softly under him, he whispers it, just to let it out.

“you make me feel stupid for loving you,”

he breathes it into steve’s chest.

“so, so stupid and so, so in love.”

and steve suddenly shifts under him, wraps his arms around billy tighter, holds him closer.

“s’okay, billy,” he mumbles into billy’s hair. “you make me feel real damn stupid, too.”