#i draw billy with one expression apparently

[enviedear]

can you pleaseeee do the reader’s first with billy??

i feel like that man would be a gentle giant 😞🩷

first time with billy bonney...

you asked so nicely i gave you a full fic <3 enjoy 2k words of first time cuteness with our favorite outlaw

tw— 18+ smut, minors dni, piv, unprotected sex, (do better irl) cumming inside

request

billy's charming in the way he helps you off his horse, eyes as bright as the stars above. you let yourself walk with him, hands interlocked and arms brushing together, as you escort him back to your small cabin.

up here, away from the fast-growing town, trees stand tall and animals call out—it's wild out here. so wild in fact, that no one in the gambling den batted an eye when the gunslinger offered to accompany you home. his citation of some recent bobcat attacks being enough to make his sinfully intended sentiment sound as if it were an honorable and gracious one.

of course, not that you gave it any mind. none at all. for as sure as the days are long, it's no question that you've fallen head first for the man on the run. in just a few weeks of his strolling into town, he's managed to endear himself so effortlessly to you.

you watch his slender fingers graze the doorknob of the wooden door, "i can find som'where else to stay tonight, darlin'. if you've changed your mind."

his voice is hushed and you furrow your brows at his admission, "why would i change my mind?" your resolve is unwavering as you look up at him, your stare wrought with permission.

he pushes the door open, letting you step inside first. for a second, you think he may back down, regret his decision at the den, and leave you here alone with only the idea of what could have been.

such thoughts are promptly absolved from your head when he wraps his strong, yet lean, arms around you. his chest becomes flush against you, and you note the prominent bulge pressing into your backside— how could you have ever thought of rejection? this is the furthest from it, this is obvious clearance, a promise.

"you look so pretty," billy whispers, cool breath hitting your shoulder, "i want you s'bad... just don't let me scare you."

another confused expression graces your face, "why would you scare me?"

the gunslinger breaths in your scent, nose brushing along the curve of your neck, "'cause i know how much i want you. m'crazy for you, sweetheart," he pauses to turn your head toward him, pointer finger at your chin, "just don't want to be too much and scare you away."

you ease into his touch, turning to face him, defenses down at his confession, "i won't run, billy. i like you too much."

your words seem to ignite the spark of passion within him as he pauses to let his eyes trail over your lips before finding your eyes again. the act is small but apparent enough that you feel comfortable enough to slide your hands up to his chest. his heartbeat thumps against your hands, rate accelerated.

with a shaky breath, you lean into him, lips brushing his. lingering, you feel as if you're on the edge of a cliff seconds away from jumping into the waters below. you feel him give the softest smile, bottom lip bumping into your own. the little sensation lights you aflame, and you have to fight back a moan when he finally presses his lips to yours.

his kiss is saccharine, loving, and careful. his hands keep you steady, at your hips, drawing you into him. you feel utterly lost in his being. the way he kisses you, slow and graceful, a welcome surprise. used to rowdy farmhands' awkward kisses and scorned by vicious schoolboys' unsolicited pecks, you've never had a kiss so sweet.

as his tongue tentatively brushes against your lips, you feel your body responding in a way you never thought possible. you feel animalistic, wanton and greedy. your hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer as you part your lips and let him deepen the kiss. the taste of him is intoxicating, and you can't get enough.

with a sudden urgency, billy pulls you towards him and lifts you onto the nearby table. you gasp as he breaks away from the kiss to trail kisses along your jawline before nipping at your neck. your head falls back, exposing more of your neck to him, and you hear him groan in approval.

his hands roam your body, tracing the curve of your waist before sliding under your shirt to cup your breasts. you arch into him, craving the touch of his rough hands on your bare skin. your own hands find their way to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them before pulling it off his body and revealing his toned stomach. you run your hands across his chest, feeling the stiff muscles under your fingertips.

you break away from him momentarily to catch your breath, gazing into his eyes as he looks back at you with such intensity that you feel like he's seeing straight into your spirit, "i want you," he whispers, voice husky with desire, have the minute i laid eyes on you."

billy eases you back onto the table, lips grazing your own, the feel of his skin against your own sending shivers down your spine. as your fingers fumble with his belt, you're reminded of your lack of experience.

you pause to look into his eyes, silently asking him for reassurance, "s'okay, darlin', trust me." his lips press against yours, reassuring and gentle, "you're doing s'good already."

you can't help but grow warm at his words, the bravery and candor in his voice giving away your own effect over him, "i trust you." you whisper against his lips, pulling him impossibly closer.

he hums, kissing you again before sliding your dress shirt off your body. you feel his hands roam your waist, following the curve of your stomach to rest on the swell of your hips, holding you steady.

you take a moment to appreciate the sight of billy's bare chest—the way the moonlight filters through the windows, casting an ethereal hue on his body. you catch yourself wondering if you'll be so lucky to have him in your bed again, and you decide then and there that if he leaves, you won't let him go alone.

focusing back into the ardor of his embrace, the kiss as passionate as it was before, if not more. your tongues dance against each other, neither of you keeping a single thing to yourselves. billy's hands slide around to your hips, gripping at your skirt.

a shiver runs up your spine as he pulls you into him, feeling the weight of him press against your thigh. the heat from his body feels almost as strong as your desire for him, and you shudder from the contact, "i need—" you break away from him, hands fumbling at your own clothes, "i need you, billy…"

you pull your skirts up, revealing yourself to the dark-haired man before you. billy's eyes are trapped on your hips, lingering on your underwear as his hands slide up your hips and hook themselves around your bloomers, "never had a lady tell me what she wants," he murmurs, "s'direct."

his words drive you to press your hips into his, wanting him to know that you mean it, "please, i need you."

his lips find your neck, teeth nipping at your collarbone, "i need you, too, darlin'."

you close your eyes, hands finding their way to the button of his pants, "take them off."

you hear him chuckle and he slides down off the table, unlacing his belt as he steps out of his pants. you turn your head from him, flustered as you slide your undergarments off your hips and legs, kicking them to the side to fully expose yourself to him.

the gunslinger glides your back onto the table, eyes grazing over every curve and plane of your body as you lie before him, "you're so beautiful, darlin'."

you smile at his words, reaching your hands out for him as he lowers himself over you. your breaths seem to come faster, riddled with nerves.

you can feel his breath on your cheek, and you lean into him, "billy..." his lips kiss yours once, stopping you from saying anything further. you can feel his erection press against your thigh.

his hands find your hips and slowly slide you towards him, "just relax." he whispers as his eyes find yours.

you feel him press against you, and you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain. you suddenly feel a heat wave course through you, leaving a trail of nerve endings burning at his every touch. the gunslinger groans in approval and kisses your neck, seemingly urging you to relax more.

you feel him nip at your collarbone before slowly easing into you. you feel a light burning sensation, but it seems to be more from his movement than from his dick. his hips are gentle as he thrusts into you, his breath catching in his throat as you move your hips. the gunslinger's hands move to your waist, gripping at you as he pulls you into him.

the need for oxygen breaks your kiss, and billy's lips slide up to your ear, nipping at it as he thrusts into you with more force. you gasp, your back arching as he pulls you into him. you hear him groan in approval, "darlin', you're s'tight, and warm…you feel so good. i could stay inside of you forever."

you shudder at his words, unaccustomed to such vulgar remarks. your mind is filled with thoughts that no lady would ever think, but you find that you don't care. the pleasure billy brings you is more than enough to excuse what others might consider improper.

his lips find your neck again, leaving gentle kisses across your skin. you shiver as you feel him pant against your skin, "more, darlin', let me hear."

you nod your head, not at all sure what to expect. as billy's thrusts become harder, your nails dig into the tops of his arms, leaving light trails of red on his skin. he groans, "good girl."

your mind begins to cloud, your body becoming light with pleasure, "billy…"

as he moves within you, your body instinctively tenses and your breaths become labored. billy's hands grip your hips tightly, urging you to move with him as he thrusts deeper and harder. you can feel the tension building inside of you, a primal heat that intensifies with each movement.

"god, darlin', you're so close. i feel it." he whispers huskily in your ear, his words fueling your desire even more. your nails dig into his arms, leaving marks on his skin as you cling to him desperately.

finally, the wave crashes over you and pure ecstasy washes over your entire being. billy's own release follows closely behind yours, his muttered words blending into the symphony of pleasure that surrounds you both. as you lay there, spent and gasping for air, billy wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. his weight is a comforting pressure against your body as he remains inside of you for a few moments longer.

eventually, he pulls out and lies next to you on the table, allowing both of your bodies to relax and catch their breath. you turn towards him, gazing into his deep blue eyes that are filled with adoration and passion. this intimate moment between the two of you feels like an eternity as you bask in each other's presence. you turn and face him, smiling as you lean to kiss him.

you know you've never been so satisfied, and you can't help but feel happy for the choice you made. the gunslinger is kind enough to take you to your bed, snuggling into both you and your covers.

you lay in his arms, exhausted from your previous activity. billy looks down at you and smiles, "you did real good, sweetheart. i didn't scare you, did i?"

you shake your head, stupid grin on your face, "no, billy. you were perfect."

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

billy taglist— @honey-bees-13 @poppyflower-22 @black-yn @siriuslybeloved @sherlollyliveson18 @cosmicspacewitch @aravenswritingdeskblog @sabrinasbd

#billy the kid x reader #billy bonney #billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth #tom blyth!billy the kid #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy bonney x reader

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 1

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

One of the main things that all alphas within the clinic needed to be able to do every single time without fail, was to ignore the scent of an omega in heat. It took an impressive amount of self-control, not to slip into rut, that only happened in porn, but to maintain their cool, to maintain professionalism, to ensure their patients felt safe around the stranger they’d be spending the majority of their time with during their stay, where they’d be at their most vulnerable.

They had to be able to trust the alpha they were assigned to. Trust that they wouldn’t be taken advantage of when they succumbed to their most primal of instincts.

That being said… being hit by a wall of pure earthy, woodsy scents outside the number 69, maybe he paused at the doorway for a second longer than he normally would have.

He shook his head clear, then knocked three times on the door “Mr… uh…” he checked the clipboard “Munson?” wait… Munson? He knew that name… that was a familiar name. “May I come in?” There was no bulldozing into an Omega’s space at Nest. Even if it wasn’t their home, their rooms at the clinic were their space, and would remain their space until their time ended there. Alphas and Betas alike needed permission to enter.

There was a brief shuffling sound behind the door for a moment, before a quiet “yeah c’mon in” reached his ears. Steve rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, in and then out, then opened the door and oh… oh that…

That was… wow.

That was an Omega experiencing the early stages of heat, or pre-heat, notable by a strong scent permeating the air meant to draw a partner in. It was meant to be enticing, it was meant to cloud the senses, to rile an Alpha up. It wasn’t the first pre-heat scent Steve had experienced, working in an environment like that, he knew it was basically just a hulked up version of the omega’s natural scent, but it was the nicest one he’d ever smelled. Kind of familiar too.

Earthy. Like camping in the forest, dirt, moss, nature at its finest. No amount of aftershave or cologne could cover it and in Steve’s humble opinion, why would anyone want to?

Okay. Professionalism. He was a professional. He’d completed his qualifications, passed all manner of psych evaluations, he was basically the golden boy of Nest’s Alpha staff, he could handle a pre-heat scent, the door closed behind him.

“He—” oof was that his voice? He coughed, clearing his throat, regarding the omega in the room with a warm smile. “Hello, my name is—"

“Holy shit—Harrington?” Steve paused. Munson. Munson. E. Munson. Eddie Munson. Oh fuck. He knew that name, of course he knew that name.

Hawkins wasn’t exactly a large town. Eddie had originally been in the year above him, jumping on tables, louder than life, an off-putting kind of Omega.

Then he’d been in the same year as him, still jumping on tables, louder than life, still making Alpha’s and Beta’s alike cringe at the idea of being anywhere near him, and then he’d been in the year below him still in school after still not graduating.

Apparently he’d finally managed to graduate that third attempt.

No amount of fresh earthy scent could possibly mask the fact that this omega, was a nightmare. There was nothing soft about him, nothing homely or gentle, he was loud, unapologetically so, he was largely expressive, he was nerdy, and theatrical, he liked to be the centre of attention at all times, or at least he seemed that way, and he could be violent if provoked.

Among many other outbursts, the most notable being that he'd slammed Billy Hargrove’s head against a locker hard enough to give the guy a goddamn concussion after he’d witnessed him harassing one of his nerdy little pack.

An Omega wasn’t supposed to stand up to an Alpha. He’d just walked up behind him, grabbed his head, and slammed it against the locker. No warning, no threat, he’d just snapped. Knocked the guy out cold then hurried his pack away.

He was everything an Omega stereotypically wasn’t supposed to be. “Munson.”

“Well, uh… this is a thing that’s happening then I guess.”

Steve bristled a little at the tone, arms folding over his chest, clipboard held against his chest. “You asked for me by name.” This wasn’t how the meet and greet was supposed to go by any means, Steve was supposed to show him around the room, was supposed to walk him through the amenities he had at his disposal, was supposed to explain how things would go, how the camera system worked, but Eddie had never conformed to normal, had he?

“I asked for Steve, I didn’t know you’d be THIS Steve. Gareth didn’t know your last name, dude, it’s not like he had a lot of experience seeing you in Highschool.” Right. Eddie wouldn’t have asked for him had he known. Because why would Eddie have asked for him, why would anyone stuck on highschooler Bullshit Steve ever ask for him to help them, why would anyo— “Whoa dude! Dude, chill out, god, don’t you guys wear patches?” He was holding his nose, wafting the air in front of him as if it’d personally offended him.

Steve had never been made to feel wrong at his job before. Never been made to feel unwanted there before.

“Not around Omegas in the clinic no, because Alpha pheromones when used correctly can make an omega’s heat easier, something which obviously I’m not going to be able to do for you since you’re clearly against it being me helping you. I’ll just— I’ll have someone else assigned to you. Our patients comfort is of the utmost importance.” Surely someone else had to be free, right?

He turned on his heel, missing the wide eyed panicked expression that crossed Eddie’s face by a fraction of a second. He didn’t miss the switch in scent though, the panic. It caused him to pause just long enough for Eddie to blurt out “Wait!!” Steve turned back to face him again, brows raised, expectant. “Listen—I’m… we don’t have bad history, Harrington… me an you, there’s no bad blood there, you were never shit to anyone I knew, or me… my only gripe about you was from shit I heard second-hand an-an I know what that’s like… everyone thinkin they know eeeverything about you cause they’ve heard a few rumours. Gareth… he vouched for you, he’s one of my youngest pups.” Pup. Pup. Steve tilted his head a slight to the left, so that’s how that little pack worked, hm? “He said you took care of him, helped him make Galgrun, right?”

“The dwarf with the big hammer, yeah?”

“Haha, Steve Harrington saying dwarf. Weirdest day of my life. But yeah. Dwarf with a big hammer and a height complex, it’s a funny character” he’d ran it by Eddie the second he’d gotten back home, jumped on the phone and called him about it, went through everything with him to see if he could include it in the next campaign since his previous character had met with a terrible fate. “I’m…” Eddie took a breath, shaky, nervous—Steve read it for what it was, knew what he was going to say before he even said it “I’m scared… last time I—I nearly hurt my uncle, he—he’s just a Beta, but he tried to help and—”

Betas could help in a pinch, they could bring an Omega back to their senses in high stress situations, but they’d only continue to be of ongoing help if the Omega saw them as a mate.

Familial ties could only help so much and for only so long.

“It wasn’t what your Omega needed, was it?” Eddie shook his head “thought of him as an intruder in your nest?” A nod. “Have you ever had an alpha near for your heat?” The clipboard had said no, but… sometimes Omegas didn’t want things recorded in paperwork for their own safety.

“No… I mean, my dad was an alpha, but he was gone before my first heat so—no, an it’s not like they’re linin up…” no, they weren’t. Alphas and Betas alike tended to steer clear of Eddie Munson. Feral not so little thing that he was.

“…Okay. Are you sure you’re comfortable with it being me helping you through this?”

He thought there’d be a pause, hesitance, he thought Eddie would um and ah about it, but no, Eddie was very quick to nod, nod and say “yes! Yes, if you’re half as comforting as Gareth said you were then… yeah. Please?” He’d have to send Gareth some cookies or something, since he’d clearly been saying lovely things.

“Alright, let’s get you through the welcome packet and then we’ll start with the basics, okay?”

“Okay.”

Part 3

#PirateWrites #Steddie #CW: A/B/O #No Upside Down AU #Omegaverse #Omega!Eddie Munson #Alpha!Steve Harrington #NestFiclet

[silassinclair]

“You’re my Muse”

[Billy H. x Artistic Reader] 🎨

Summary: Y/n loves Billy’s face. He’s just so handsome and gorgeous and UGH. She loves holding his face and looking into his eyes, and Billy is just like, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF

Glam metal music played softly from Billy’s stereo. The volume was turned down more than his usual listening volume because his girlfriend Y/n was doodling in her sketchbook on his bed. He absolutely adored her. She was cute seven ways to sunday. Her cute little hobby of drawing, her love for bugs, but most importantly was her weird fascination for his face.

Weird because it was only his face. Her pages were full of realistic sketches of his face at many different angles and making many different expressions. He was flattered and never questioned it, but it got to the point where she would hold his face in her hands for long minutes at a time and just stare adoringly.

Billy loves her to the moon and back but he cannot help but feel… a little weirded out by her quirky behavior, not in a bad way of course. So he finally asks, “Hey baby?”

The sound of pencil on paper stops. “Yeah Billy?” Y/n asks and crawls over to him. He was seated on the floor against the bed she was on so she leaned down and put her cheek against his, another thing she did quite often.

“Not to sound mean.” He starts, “But I gotta ask you, what is with you and always being all over my face. I know that I’m handsome and attractive and the hottest guy ever but I can’t help but feel like you have a weird fascination for my face.” He says with a light grin.

An awkward pause fills the room. Even the song on the stereo was quieting down, playing it’s last part.

“Well uh.” Y/n say straight up and scratched her neck. She knew this day would come. After all personal space is important so of course her boyfriend would question her weird actions. “I just really like your face.”

Billy turned around with a quirked up eyebrow and a smirk. “Oh I know that babe. That’s why you���re all over me after all. But I wanna know more. Give me the sweet juicy details.” His thumb brushed against her hand that he had held in his.

“To put it simply, you’re my muse Billy.” She said with a smile. Her head tilted to the side to see Billy’s facial expression change from smugness to wonder.

“Your jawline is sharp, cheekbones are prominent, and your eyes,” Y/n gently takes hold of his face. His head is turned up as her fingers trace gently against his jaw. Billy is at a loss for words, no one has EVER said anything like this to him before.

“Your eyes are absolutely stunning. I could drown in that gorgeous blue color.” She places a small peck on the space between his eyes.

“And don’t get me started on your lips.” Her thumb traces the plump bottom lip. “They’re so smooth and plump. I just wanna kiss em all day.”

At this point Billy’s face was as red and flush as the crimson paint Y/n used in her artworks. The affection was almost overwhelming. His brain simply couldn’t process how someone so sweet, cute, and humble could adore him this much. He thought men were the ones who were supposed to fluster their girlfriends, but apparently it was the other way around right now.

“I love all of you.” Y/n whispered softly and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

In the blink of an eye Billy pounced and had Y/n pinned under his body. Her arms spread limply by her sides under the soft cushion of Billy’s mattress.

“Do you really mean that?” Billy said. His tone was like a whisper. Hope in his voice wishing it were true, but he knew it was too good to be true. “All that you said, you mean it?” His golden brown locks fluttered from side to side, framing his perfect face.

The girl reached a hand up to cup the jaw of her lover above. A smile painted her face. “I meant every word, love.” That petname for him had hime weak in the knees any time she said it, which was pretty rarely. Usually she’d just call him Billy, baby, or B.

Billy leant down and trapped her lips in a heated kiss. He never wanted tor leave this moment. In between kisses Y/n giggled, her arm’s wrapped around his neck lovingly.

“Aw? Is my sweet boyfriend flustered? Or do you just really like being praised and complimented?”

A growl escaped the depths of his throat. “How could I not be a blushin’ mess when you say shit like that?” His lips traced the shell of her ear. “God I don’t deserve you baby.” His whisper sent a shiver down her spine.

She smirked and batted her lashes, “Oh and that sexy voice of yours, I could listen to it all da-”

She was cut off with a kiss. Her boyfriend’s eyes were wide and his cheeks were on fire, his bottom lip twitching too much so he bit down on it.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll show you how much I love you more.”

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fluff #stranger things fanfiction #fluff

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

She honestly thought she was past this. Ogling at straight girls, kissing girls who would never want anything more from her than soft touches in passing.

Robin Buckley is an experience, never a commitment.

So when her eyes start following the frills of yet another skirt, she knows she’s fucked. First Tammy, who didn’t even know she existed. Then Vicky, who would kiss her soft and make promises she couldn’t keep. Then Nancy. Who never stepped over that line, who never insinuated that she would leave Byers save for one instant after graduation.

She’d grabbed Robin’s hand after they’d thrown their caps into the sky. Rubbed the soft pad of her thumb over her knuckles. Got this earnest look in her eyes, that girl next door sparkle that Robin was starting to fall in love with — and then she said it.

“I can’t.”

And then she was dropping her hand to wander off and get her picture taken by her awkward boyfriend who had caught an overnight flight just for the occasion.

Simple. Quick. Enough to tear Robin up for a matter of weeks thereafter, only able to come out of her prolonged stupor when Steve started inviting her out again.

He told her that was just how small town dating was. She told him he didn’t understand — couldn’t understand, because he wasn’t queer. Gave him the whole speech about how easy it is for him and his lizard brain to get dates with whoever he wants, and he gave her the customary eye roll.

A handful of parties later, Robin feels like she’s made some progress on getting over… well, everything.

Then, she feels like she’s taken ten steps back when she finds herself staring at Hargrove from across the room. It’s not so much Billy that has her eye, with his primped curls and tight jeans, but more so who he has dangling off of his arm like an accessory at all times.

And that’s when she finds a new feeling to replace her sadness, to fill that pocket of loneliness in her chest.

Hatred.

“I don’t get how you can hang around that guy,” she huffs. Blows a bubble and pops it, smacking her gum right in Steve’s ear as she leans over the counter beside him. “Didn’t he try to kill you on several occasions?”

Steve huffs. Stares at the clock above the door, counting down the seconds until it’s closing time. She can’t decide if he’s amused or annoyed.

“If there was any bad blood between us, do you really think we’d be going to the same parties?”

She holds her tongue for a moment. Long enough to pinpoint the soft smile on his face, to register the gentle lilt in his tone. So she leans completely into his side and crowds him further against the register, which earns a snort.

“Guess not.”

“Why the sudden loathing? I thought you were all about looking under the surface and whatever,” he teases.

He plucks at her bracelets absently just to hear them click together, and Robin feels her brows draw down heavily.

“Something about him just… I dunno, rubs me the wrong way.”

“Afraid he’s lobbying for the position of my best friend or something?”

“No.”

“Pissed that he graduated top of your class?”

“I couldn’t care less.”

Steve eyes her in complete silence for a moment. Gentle brown eyes darting all over her face as if the answer lies in her expression.

He apparently finds it there, because his eyebrows quirk upward and he grins.

“You’re mad that he has better game than you.”

Robin scoffs.

“I am not.”

“Yes you are, you’re pissed. Oh my god.”

She leans away enough to smack his arm, which only makes him snicker at her. He turns to face her with this particular expression, arms opening around her shoulders and squeezing — and then her sneakers are leaving the floor.

“No, no! Put me down, you behemoth!”

He swings her back and forth like a stuffed animal, only setting her back down when she actually starts to resist.

“Admit that you’re jealous and I’ll let go,” he says.

“Never.”

His grip only tightens and she exhales a strained sound, lolling her head back. If Keith were to see them right now, chest to chest like this, he would write them up for PDA.

“C’mon, the sooner you confess, the sooner you can—“

“I’m not jealous of him, okay?” Robin snaps. Maybe it comes out more harshly than she meant, because Steve’s arms go lax around her. She pinches her eyes shut and takes in a large breath. “I’m pissed at myself for crushing on another straight girl — who’s clearly only into the jock types, anyway. Story of my fucking life.”

She doesn’t look. Doesn’t open her eyes, afraid that the tears will spill if she does.

Her breath hitches when she’s pulled into Steve’s chest again. This time, his hold is gentle. All encompassing. He tilts his head against hers and she finally breathes and it’s shaky, but she finds it in herself to wrap her arms around his torso in return.

“Who is it?” he coos.

She swallows thickly. Sets her chin on his shoulder and presses her lips together.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” A large hand rubs soothing circles over her back. “I’ve had worse luck with relationships than anyone, you know I have no room to judge.”

And as true as that may be, it’s still hard to say aloud. Almost like subconsciously, she fears that saying the name out loud will jinx her luck. That she’ll have another Nancy on her hands if she does.

“Heather,” she whispers.

Steve goes still for a beat.

“Holloway?”

“Mhm. Stupid, right?”

Steve stays quiet. She sighs after a moment and leans away to wipe her eyes with the heels of her palms. One of his hands stays on her shoulder. Squeezes reassuringly.

“Honestly,” he begins. Robin braces herself for the worst. “I think she’s a little… abrasive. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go for it.”

“I like how you’re implying that I’m going to ask her out.” When he just stares at her, her jaw drops. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yeah, man, why not? You never know.”

She huffs a laugh at that.

“Because what if she’s the wrong person, Steve? Her dad is the editor of the Hawkins Post — my whole life could be ruined.”

At this point she can’t recall how many times she’s had this conversation with him. How many times she’s seen that look of exasperation, like he doesn’t understand why she would be so nervous about such a thing.

And how could he? Picture perfect king of Hawkins Steve Harrington himself couldn’t know how she feels.

He still has the audacity to roll his eyes at her.

“If you change your mind, I’m always down to wingman you,” he says, then glances at his watch. “We better go or we’re gonna be late.”

Robin sighs, long and dramatic, and Steve smiles as he pats her shoulder.

“Can I change at yours?” she asks. “I don’t wanna deal with my mom right now.”

“Thought that was the plan anyway.”

He fishes his keys out of his pocket, jangling them in front of her face like a toddler. She crosses her eyes and earns a laugh.

As silly as it is, she’s a bit hopeful on the way to this party. Steve is a lot of things, but never a liar. And it turns out he has pretty good judgment when it comes to people — he can say what he wants about Tommy and Carol, but at the end of the day, he still shows up when Tommy’s crying about his latest breakup. Still drives Carol to her favorite thrift shops when she’s trying to distract herself from getting back together with Tommy.

Still, it’s hard to look at Hargrove and see anything but the snarky asshole before her. And he’s not even doing anything, really.

Just standing there with a beer in one hand and his other down the back pocket of Heather’s jeans. Jeans, for Christ’s sake. Last time Robin checked, this girl only wore her finest Sunday morning clothes everywhere.

She finds herself staring over the rim of her solo cup from across the room, only tearing her eyes away when Steve nudges her with his elbow.

He pulled on this stupid flashy windbreaker before they left the house, and as awful as it is to look at, it suits him. Makes his smile look bubbly when he flashes his teeth at her. She knows that face. Oh no. Oh no.

“If i come back out here and you’re still being a wallflower, there’s gonna be hell to pay,” he lilts.

Just barely audible over the music.

Then he’s wandering off. Weaving between people, holding his drink above their heads so it doesn’t spill. Robin’s anxiety spikes and she’s not sure if she’s more worried about Steve or herself.

When Hargrove spots him, he smiles. Is easily lured away, leaving Heather to her own devices, probably with the promise of more beer or different girls. And things are a lot less intimidating, but simultaneously worse because of Billy’s absence.

Heather’s spirit doesn’t flounder. She just starts dancing in the nearest crowd when the music changes to something more upbeat, thrumming through the air and making picture frames rattle on the walls. She moves her hips. Jumps up and down and giggles when girls in passing join her.

It’s hard for Robin to tear herself away from the wall, but she does. Sets her cup on a side table as she crosses the room and— just throws herself into the mix.

There’s lots of giggling. Lots of hand-holding with random strangers, but when Heather notices her, she reaches out. Snags Robin’s hands and intertwines their fingers, pulling her so close that she can see the fading remnants of eyeliner on her lids. This song is way more girly than anything Robin would listen to by choice, but she can’t help but grin and squeeze Heather’s hands back while they dance.

It’s freeing. Makes her feel like she’s actually making up for lost time, makes her feel like one of the girls. But then the song ends. And Heather stops.

Her chest is rising and falling, stray brown curls clinging to her skin, and one of her hands slips away from Robin’s. Reaches up with a manicured finger and readjusts a messy strand of Robin’s hair for her, so close that the only air they can breathe in is from each other.

“You want a drink?” Heather asks. Too soft.

She squeezes Robin’s hand where they’re still linked and suddenly Robin’s face is burning red.

Oh.

“Yeah,” she says, throat suddenly dry.

Robin wonders if Steve really did know what he was talking about. He was at least half right, considering Heather doesn’t seem abrasive at all. Talk about bubbly and lighthearted. Downright approachable, even.

Then, before Robin can squeeze even another quarter of a thought in, she’s being hauled through the crowd with a gentle grip. They weave between partygoers quickly, only stopping when Heather bumps into someone.

The guy is huge. Has the Tiger’s letterman jacket on his shoulders and a scowl on his face when he turns to look down at her, and Heather— Heather fixes one right back and smacks his drink out of his hand. Red liquid pools on the shag carpet, but Heather keeps walking, side-eyeing him as they pass.

There it is, Robin thinks nervously.

When they make it to the kitchen, Heather lets go so she can ladle them some punch. Bouncing softly to the music as she does.

“You came here with Harrington, right?” she asks.

“Yeah. He’s kind of my ride everywhere.”

“Nothing going on there, then?”

Heather winks at her, like it’s some inside joke. Like she knows something that no one else does. Robin swallows thickly and tries to keep her hand from shaking when she gets handed a new solo cup.

“No.”

Maybe she says it too softly, because Heather just quirks a brow at her.

“Wanna go somewhere more private to talk?” A polished fingernail traces up and down Robin’s bicep and she practically shakes free of her bones. “Go find us a room, and I’ll meet you there. I gotta powder my nose.”

All Robin can do is nod. She watches Heather down the entirety of her drink and set the empty cup on the counter, stepping around her swiftly and disappearing somewhere.

Holy shit. This is happening.

Robin has to force herself to move again. She walks up and down various halls, opening doors and checking for any stragglers. The first five rooms are occupied, and while she initially thought that the sixth might be vacant, she finds herself to be wrong when she shuts the door and flicks the light switch on.

That stupid windbreaker is on the floor… next to a leather jacket.

There’s a startled gasp and some shuffling from the bed, and Robin’s jaw is immediately on the floor when she finally looks up.

Steve, once tensed up, now relaxes. Sweeps a hand through his already messy hair and leans back against the headboard. Billy doesn’t seem to share his feelings, shoulders still bunched and eyes wide where sits near the middle of the mattress, poised to run if he has to.

“Rob, what the fuck?” Steve sighs. “You’re supposed to be out there getting a number scratched on your hand or something.”

Robin presses her back flat against the door.

“What the fuck me? What the fuck you,” she huffs. Billy looks like he’s about ready to bolt until Steve sets a comforting hand on his shoulder. “How long has this been going on?”

Steve whistles. Looks off somewhere and uses his free hand to count on his fingers.

He takes long enough for Robin to sigh and shake her head, mumbling, “Jesus, never mind. Forget I even asked.”

“I wanted to tell you,” he says. Gestures vaguely with his hand. “Just didn’t want you to… I dunno. Get mad, I guess.”

“Why would I get mad?”

Steve glances at Billy, who’s still awkwardly sitting there, but looks a little more at ease now. That makes Robin sputter out a laugh.

“C’mon, Harrington,” she says. “You know I have no room to judge.”

The air feels lighter, less tense, when Steve smiles. It’s contagious, Robin’s lips quirk up, and she has to fight the urge to stride across the room and pull him into a hug.

She would, but he’s only half-clothed at the moment.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because there’s a knock at the door, and Robin jumps away from it just in time for it to open. Heather slides in and shuts it behind her.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. And Robin tenses again, fearing the absolute worst. “Is that a hickey, Bills? You dirty slut.”

“If anyone asks, I’m telling ‘em I got it from you,” he snarks back.

Heather giggles. Grabs Robin’s hand and twists the doorknob.

“C’mon, let’s go find our own room. Preferably one without an infestation.”

Billy flips her off, but he’s smiling. Shifting closer to Steve on the bed. He’s smiling too, and Robin can’t help but spread a grin of her own as she’s guided out of the room.

Feeling like for once, things will be different.

That they’ll be okay.

#platonic stobin #buckleway #harringrove #platonic hollogrove #robin buckley #steve harrington #billy hargrove #heather holloway #my ultimate hc for Robin is that she has the worst gaydar known to man #Heather is simply That Bitch #I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while now #post s4 #except everything is Okay #ficlet #my writing

[constantcrisis19]

Dirty Little Secret

Billy Hargrove x GN S/O

AN: If you liked this and want to see a happy ending, come check out part two, Ocean Eyes.

Word Count: 1,461

Warnings: Toxic relationship and angst

Billy lazily leaned up against his assigned locker as the halls filled up with teens desperately scurrying to get to their next period before the bell, listening with half an ear as the needy crowd that followed him around chatted among themselves. 

He scowled at Carol when she obnoxiously popped her gum, the aloof girl merely responding to his ire with a wink that made Billy want to slap her. 

“Why the hell are they coming over here?” Tommy loudly asked no one in particular, the mention of Billy’s current fling drawing his attention to you as you stalked toward where the blond was lounging.

"I need to talk to you." You immediately demanded upon reaching him, not even bothering to dein your peers with a look as you stared pointedly at Billy. 

"Fucking freak." Tommy muttered just loud enough for you to hear, if the almost imperceptible flinch you gave was any indication, and the blond made a mental note to give the freckled bitch hell the next time they had practice.

"I'm kinda busy." Billy sighed, his dismissal apparently amusing enough to garner a wave of mocking laughter from those encircling him. 

His sharp eyes noted how your jaw twitched, your teeth grinding together in irritation, a bad habit he knew that you picked up during your childhood. He had to resist the urge to do something stupid like reaching out to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your jawline until the tension there eased.

"Now, Billy." You said sternly, your tone drawing Billy out of his daydream. You had the same look on your face that Susan usually wore when she was trying to get Max to do her chores before running off to do god knows what. 

Unfortunately for him, that expression coming from you had the same effect on him as Susan’s did with Max.

"Get lost." Billy sniffed indifferently as he pushed himself away from the row of skin-warmed metal lockers, never once breaking eye contact with you even as his lackeys complained about being sent away. He jerked his chin over to the hall as he turned, indicating for you to follow as he began walking, trusting you to keep up with his steady pace.

“You know better than to approach me at school.” Billy reminded you causally once the two of you were far enough away from prying eyes to have some modicum of privacy.

“Oh, right. God forbid your reputation be tarnished by a lowlife like me.” You scoffed sarcastically and Billy’s keen gaze darted over to stare out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw was stubbornly set as you stared straight ahead, your teeth akin to a cage, keeping everything you wanted to say locked inside.

Billy frowned at the implications of your silence and decided to change the subject in an effort to diffuse the building confrontation that he could feel charging the air between the two of you.

“What did you wanna talk about?” Billy asked and you slowed to a halt in the middle of the emptying hallway, forcing Billy to do so as well before you took a deep breath, as if you were gearing yourself up for something. 

“I’m tired of being your dirty little secret.”

Billy figured that you were going to say something along those lines because of the gravity of the looks you’d been shooting at him for the last few days now. Though, he still had to wonder what had been the thing to finally prompt you into confronting him about your feelings on the predetermined conditions of your relationship.

"You knew what you were getting into when we started this." Billy answered absentmindedly as he mentally went over the last week, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when things started to get strained between the two of you, the blond’s lungs seizing as he came to the alarming realization that you’d been pulling away from him for a while now.

And he hadn’t even noticed.

“Bullshit. I didn’t know that I was agreeing to let you treat me like garbage.” You continued angrily, completely oblivious to Billy’s struggle to come to terms with his terrible epiphany. 

The blond was unceremoniously ripped from his internal panic as your statement registered, meeting your expectant gaze with furrowed brows.

“What the hell are you on about?”

You pivoted in order to fully face him, letting Billy have the full effect of your incredulous stare as the bell rang, echoing through the empty halls and signaling the start of class. You both ignored it.

"I feel like I'm tiptoeing through broken glass every time we talk! I can’t ask you about anything personal without upsetting you, so I know next to nothing about you.” You seethed, gesticulating wildly as you spoke, and Billy found his gaze being drawn to those familiar hands.

He recalled when the two of you met, the softness of your skin when he had pressed a kiss onto your knuckles with a smug smile, the groves of your unique fingerprints a week later as the tips of your fingers brushed against his cheek before he inevitably pulled away. 

He missed the gentleness of those hands. Hated the violence they now held as they waved about in agitation.

Billy didn’t even know how to begin to go about conveying how your kind touch could be the difference between a good day and a bad one, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Y/n, you’re smart enough to realize how easy of a fix that is. Just don’t ask.” He drawled while that tiny voice in his head screamed that it came out wrong. That’s not what he meant to say.

“We don’t go out unless you say so, and you never wanna do anything that I’m interested in. That doesn't seem like a fair relationship to me.” You snarled, your eyes glittering under the fluorescent lights in a way that made Billy want to hit something. Preferably himself for being the cause of your distress.

“Fine. What do you wanna do? We can hang out tonight.” Billy asked, hoping that you’d recognize the compromise for the olive branch that it was, but his stomach dropped out when your expression twisted into something hurt.

“Jesus. It’s like you don’t even hear me when I talk.” You said softly and Billy felt his knees weaken, as if his body was about to force him to his knees to grovel since his brain only seemed intent on sabotaging all his attempts to reconcile with you.

“I don’t understand! What do you want from me?” Billy snapped, letting his frustration get the better of him, and instantly regretting it when his raised voice caused you to flinch away from him. Your eyes fell to the floor as you stepped back, your arms falling to dangle lifelessly at your sides.

"Whatever this is between us, I can't do it anymore. I'm done." You whispered, the words hitting Billy like a bullet right to the chest. You slowly raised your gaze from the floor, leveling his wide eyed stare with a resigned yet firm expression.

It seemed that your decision was already set in stone, but Billy could stop himself from trying to change your mind regardless.

"You're breaking up with me?" He hated how shaky the question came out, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat as he watched your face, unwilling to miss a single twitch.

You let out a rueful laugh that had Billy wanting to curl up and die.

"Kinda hard to break up when we weren't even dating in the first place, Billy." You said tiredly before turning on your heel and beginning to make your way back the way you came.

“I’m sorry.” 

The words came out of him without his permission, causing you to pause for a moment, the look you gave him over your shoulder telling him what he already knew.

Those two insignificant words were too little too late and couldn’t even begin to repair the rift that Billy had unknowingly driven between the two of you. It couldn’t undo all the damage he’d already caused even though he wished that it could.

As he watched you walk away from him, he could admit -if only to himself- that you cutting ties with him was for the best.

Billy broke everything he touched. 

He was the reason his mom left, the cause of his fucked up relationship with Max, his jagged edges were why Susan turned a blind eye to the sounds that came from his room some nights and the reason that Neil hit him.

And he had to live with himself now knowing that he had destroyed you too.

Prompt: Glass

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #toxic relationship #this one is gonna hurt y'all #I wish was was kidding #angst #no happy ending #hurt/no comfort #the break up fic no one asked for #why do I do this to myself #part one

[undiscovered-horizon]

That's a wonderful and well-deserved milestone. Congratulations!!

From your generous offer:

If you were church, I'd get on my knees. & Billy Russo

[1k followers celebration!]

Hey, thank you so much! Really needed to read something positive after getting feedback for one of my short stories (the magazine rejected it) and the editor claimed that a character drinking cognac out of a regular drinking glass was a flaw in logic. Bestie, ✨what in tarnation✨

Could "daisy" be a term of endearment? Sounds cute enough. Anyway, here's angsty and romantic Billy for Your enjoyment!!

Addressing the elephant in the room, as you thought of it, was the mature and responsible thing to do. Still, your anxiety made your right decision run late - after all, what does one do with the said elephant after it's rude to further ignore its existence?

If Billy noticed your unusual quietness, he wasn't making it known. Perhaps he preferred not to press your honesty if you weren't ready to commit to it on your own accord. The silent minutes only further gnawed at your heart, painting anxious scenarios in gradually darker colours. The more reasonable part of you, however, demanded the confession to be made - inside you, it could only rot along with your love for Billy Russo.

"I know you don't like this," you spoke up finally. There was truly no point in playing naive, anymore. It was better to go through the heartbreak with dignity than slowly descend into madness over a man who preferred to keep women at an arm's length: close enough to pull you in and push you back out anytime he wanted to.

Although the night was quiet for a city as big as New York, it felt almost deadly silent in those seconds that were drawing out into hours in which he turned around to look at you.

His eyes were slightly squinted and the fainted wrinkle appeared between his furrowed eyebrows. Somehow, Billy's expression darkened as if your words moved something buried deep inside him, a thought so well hidden it was nearly forgotten.

"What do you mean by that?" His voice was low and weirdly tense.

You let out a frustrated sigh. Billy wasn't making things any easier with his apparent obliviousness towards the issue. Maybe he just dreaded the idea of you uncovering his ruse and him having to face the consequences. He wasn't going to cry about it, no, you've long gone decided to believe in your assumption that there was no reason for Billy to actually choose you out of the impressively large dating pool he could comfortably fish in. Should you leave him, it wasn't going to be anything beyond a minor inconvenience.

"I know you're not one for monogamy, Billy. The girls, the flirting... It just doesn't sit right with me to keep going like this, you know? Maybe it's time we both admit this isn't working out and move on."

He didn't answer right away. Instead, Billy crossed the space diving you in big strides with some quite inexplicable anger. Maybe he was irritated that you saw right through him and now he had to finally fall asleep in the bed that he had made.

"You know that's bullshit," Billy quietly gritted through his teeth. His answer didn't sound in any way believable, just entirely defensive. It was more of a filler statement as his thoughts rushed to find the right words. Was he not taking this as seriously as you were?

Feeling dread setting in your stomach, you looked away from Bily, focusing to take deep breaths while he remained silent and ever so observant. The atmosphere in the room quickly turned tense and you began once again questioning whether you were ready to face.

"Look at me, daisy," he whispered. One of his hands gently cradled the side of your face and turned your face toward himself. Reluctantly, you shifted your gaze from the wall to Billy, whose eyes stared back at you with an overwhelming intensity that you couldn't quite name. He seemed... nervous. There was something unclear about his actions as if Billy himself wasn't yet sure whether he wanted to break your heart or forever keep it as his own. "If you were church, I'd get on my knees," he helplessly pleaded.

#billy russo #sofia's 1k #the punisher #punisher #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x you #punisher fanfiction #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo x you #punisher imagine #billy russo fanfic

[calciumdeficientt]

hello clockwork orange community. do you like nadsat? i have nadsat (old commission)

Welly welly welly well my brothers it is time once again it would appear, for uncle Alex to tell you a story. An omission from the tale of my previous exploits and this, my dear brothers, is my way of sending my deepest appy polly logies to you all; twas a nochy like any other I suppose, my little droogies and I out in the thick of it. A routine trip to the korova milk bar was well underway, my cancer now barely a nub of ash and orange filter when suddenly, like some great divine inspiration from bog or whoever else may be lurking up above us in the great black nowhere. Dim opened his great big maw as if to say something, noticing the shift in my expression no doubt, a raised hand from myself soon silenced him and he fell quickly back into submission. This was our second visit of the evening, our nightcap until we four parted and I found myself headed bedways to municipal flatblock 18-a, but tonight brothers I found that this second bout of moloko plus had done me no good at all; no indeed my brothers, all it seemed to achieve was to further stir me for another few hours out to myself, the other three could follow me or not. Georgie had a funny look about his glazzies,shagged fagged, fashed and downright useless. In no state for any more of the ultraviolence tonight. No indeed.

“Dobby nochy, brothers”

I found myself humming absentmindedly, staring through the film of moloko left at the bottom of my glass and adjusting the hat placed atop my gulliver, stood up to take my leave

“Bedways so soon, Alex?”

Pete guffawed, leaned so far back in his chair I was almost certain he would disappear into it. Despite questioning my quick exit, he looked in no way prepared to leave himself

“Quite the opposite, o my brother. Much fun is yet to be had, although it is now clearer than crystal to me that our earlier fillying hath done all tree of you in, and with thus I must bid you adieu”

Outside it was bitter cold, much much bitterer and colder than I had remembered it. Soon enough the knives that I had ingested would begin to work their magic, brothers and I would become all the more aware of the lewdies, or lackthereof out and about on the streets. I had bid my little droogies a dobby nochy, that much was true but it was now more apparent than ever that night would soon be over and was bleeding over into the young hours of the morning. Luckily for little old me, I had my maskiwask in my clutches from an earlier spree of shop crasting under full, glorious anonymity hidden, too under the cover of darkest and most mysterious night. Black sky was now a very deep blue and as the moloko plus paid its due dividends I feel, o dear brothers, that the sand in my own ultraviolent hourglass was running out, running thinly like the krovvy of a malchick low on his iron. A rustle from an abandoned gazetta pricked mine ears as I trudged carefully through the street, waiting patiently for any sign of life.Caution was the key in these night-time affairs as the threat of the barry place was ever present, and while I did not fear the stripy hole I did fear for what it may have done to me old pee and em.

I took some liberties with my route home, opting for small alleys as opposed to wider, much more open streets. An unorthodox decision considering I had found myself droogless and after yet another clash with Billy boy and his other eunuch jellies could have even put myself at risk of an ambush but having no one but myself beside me makes this victory mine alone. My pocket jingled with pretty polly, distended from the volume of it. The noise seemed to draw out a devotchka. She looked poogly, her dress hanging off her as though it had been thrown on in a hurry. Big brown glazzies met mine and I could see the glimmer of tears in them, clearly she had been boo hoo hooing and for why I did not know. The old in-out always went down a treat when the urge was still around, nagging even after a whole nochy of fillying. I fancied I could slooshy her heart hammering against her ribs and what a pleasant sound it was, strands of dark brown glory flopped limply over her pale, moonish face as she looked up at me all, like expectant. I watched her back herself up against the wall, making it clear to me that someone had gotten to her first. Had I been a bit more present, I might have left her to find some other dama for myself. There were plenty about after all but mostly I was glad to have found her in the state I had. All warmed up, brothers. Relaxed despite her best wishes not to be. I fancied myself to be a kot, I did. Quite right. This is what, dear reader, cats of the street are so fond of doing. Breeding, filling the streets with as many filthy beasts as their malenky bodies might let them before bog gets them as he does all things. Never one for lubbilubbing was dear uncle Alex, brothers. Not one care for it at all I must attest.

Now, where were we? Ah yes, the devotchka with the moony litso. Very very pretty, yes yes there was no denying that brothers and droogs alike, she was beautiful. I fancied the krovvy on her might have tasted like jammiwam but I didn't bother to test it, most of it was staining her dress. Beginning to dry that horrible old blood brown as opposed to that gorgeous red that sent shivers through me when even the tiniest bead dropped from a lewdie. Not so rare and yet far more precious to me than any jewel in the world.

What happened next, brothers, was something I could be nothing but proud of. I let my face drop a little bit so I wasn’t scowling so much, it helps to lessen resistance in devotchkas I find. Despite my partiality to a bit of chase and find, that fateful nochy I was not in the mood, no autos were crasted that night so my poor dear feet were so achy that any more fillying about may have caused them to drop off. I stood there for a bit, chumbling to myself before I pounced. Her creeching was low and half-hearted as if she knew herself that it wasn't going to garner a drop of sympathy from me. This certainly was not the fault of the devotchka, most persons would be in the mindset to creech for their life, especially this one. The creetching soon stopped when, from out of my pocket I brough out my most trusted nozh. Hardly used that night, nice and clean, or at least as clean as a knife could be. It was sharp, cold, so tantalising I could feel my pan handle straining against my neezhnies at the thought of how pretty she might look under it. How still she might be if i teased it against her neck… if I teased it somewhere else. Brothers I found myself drooling at the concept. Just as I suspected, the creeching ceased and was replaced with silent weeping. I watched her chest jerk up and down as she tried to keep herself nice and quiet for me, as I pressed the blade into her neck, gently so it would only barely nick the skin. I would press harder elsewhere when she was nagoy, I thought to myself with deepest delight, watching this devotchka, already poogly from another encounter, half dressed as it were, struggling to undress herself at my command was too much. Then, out came the kot, slashiwashing with my knife the dress was out of the picture.

Ah. Nothing underneath. The cry at the sudden cold made me believe this was not something she had chosen for herself. Fearing the millicents on their early morning beats I worked quickly to strip myself of anything below my waist and get cracking on with the in-out-in out. She would have to warm up to it or suffer the consequences, most devotchkas did when I was with my droogies. On my oddy knocky I was not so sure but she would have to put up with it, my pan handle was now growing too hard to ignore. Her nogas were clasped tight, a feeble attempt for her to keep her dignity. Unlikely to work when I was in such a beastly temperament, every second wasted only seemed to make me angrier. Like when you flap a red cloth at a bull. I parted the clasped legs, it took a lot, mind, but the trembling of the muscles and the purple, pulsing, cables under her pale skin let me know she wouldn’t try and close them again.

Something possessed me to speak to her. A small slip of the tongue to keep her quiet at the world woke up. An angry throb below the belt led my mind elsewhere. I figured the nozh would be enough to keep her quiet, little drops of blood beaded around where the pressure was. Even the lowest whimper made her delicate skin press against the blade. My free hand circled a glazz, and pinched it. Her cry sent me jolting into her on just instinct alone, sheathing myself comfortably. It was clear that someone had been at her before me as there was no resistance, no horrible gravelly feeling and I pushed my way into her. In-out-in-out, smooth as if we were luddilubbing. Her face was scrunched up as if she was trying to build the nerve to start creeching. I wouldn’t have minded, sometimes I find, it really eggiwegs me to keep going.

As I moved. The hand that had been cupping her bezoomny had moved to firmly grip her waist, the hand with the knife had done the same. I made a real show of that one, creating a fine red line down from the centre of the neck all the way down her middle. Like I was a surgeon about to cut her up and perform the old in-out-in out on her guttiwuts. The krovvy only made me harder, so maybe, oh my brothers, it was a mistake to cut her as I did. But oh, it was heaven. Bog new damned. I cast my eyes toward her grahzny dress, and then back to her naked frame. I noted, brothers, that she looked like a doll more than she did a living, breathing lewdie. In and out I moved over and over, listening out for any millicents that may have interrupted such an intimate interaction. Eventually, I noticed that the shirt of my koshtoom was sticking to my back. Clinging to the skin, adhered by pearls of sweat. I could taste that irony taste fizzling in the back of my throat, it was almost time for the big finale brothers. My muscles were shouting this from the rooftops too, make no doubt about that little droogies, they burned so fiercely that even knives devoid of moloko could not quell the sensation.

The devotchka had quite visibly relaxed under my touch. As I, your dear and most trustworthy uncle Alex, kept tight firm hold of her bony waist I pondered the possibility that in some way shape or form she was thoroughly enjoying this feeling. Having accepted it she might have allowed herself to take pleasure in this. A twitch from my pan handle let me know the end was upon us and acting yet again on my most trusted friend, animal instinct, I grabbed a fistful of her luscious glory and tugged as hard as I could muster. Her creech of pain as her hair departed from her scalp was more than enough noise to conceal the low groan that accompanied my orgasm. As I slid out of her I relished in the fact that she seemed too full to move from my seed.

I cleaned myself off using her dress and dropped it on her nagoy frame. Dressing my lower half swiftly and nimbly, the deliberately quiet platching of the young girl was terribly terribly moving. I threw some coins at her litso, knowing I only had a minoota or two until the millicent’s found her or even worse that she found them. Wordlessly I left her, nudging her with my boot as she left just to check that she was ticking away nicely and the pol hadn’t killed her. When she groaned, I knew at once it was bedways for me, and quickly.

A nochy to remember indeed. O my brothers.

#a clockwork orange #acwo #aco #nadsat

[billyharringson]

So I started writing a completely different post which ended up getting very negative and was really just an exercise in self-hatred. And even as I was writing it I knew that what I was writing was untrue, it was just my mind telling me that my work was shit, derivative, the same thing over and over again. So I decided to put a positive spin on it and tell my brain demons to go fuck themselves.

Basically I've been looking over my fics and noting specifically how I write Billy. Noting the things that I change depending on the fic and the things that seem to be the same regardless. So I've made a list of SFW headcannons that I apparently have because I keep writing them. (If people want I can do another post with my NSFW headcannons)

Billy headcannons:

- he's gay (like even when I write him as being on the ace spectrum it's very much no women like ever)

- he's touch starved

- building on the last one, when he's comfortable around people he's super touchy, like needs to have some part of his body touching some part of their body

- he has cat energy

- again building on the last one, he likes sitting in people's laps, especially when those people are bigger than him

- when he feels safe he's laid back and sleepy like constantly

- he really does love Max even if he's bad at expressing it

- he's shit at communication

- he craves praise and attention but doesn't know how to deal with it when he gets it

- he has major sensory issues when it comes to clothing and materials in general (wool kind of makes him want to scream)

- he's neuro divergent - the type changes based on which fic he is in, sometimes it's just anxiety, sometimes depression, sometimes autism. But that boy isn't neuro typical.

- he is one of his own biggest critics

- he feels like he's unlovable

- he has some kind of artistic talent that he hides from everyone, be that singing, drawing etc

- he's a closet nerd

- he likes feeling pretty

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #my writing

[carol-effing-danvers]

(i see you) as you really are

(Yes we are doing the body swap AU bitches - the rest of this will only be updated to AO3)

The moon was full and lush as Jonathan said his goodbye to her, shining down into her big blue eyes. Even despite the weird week they'd had together, he felt his heart squeeze and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her.

Nancy seemed to melt into him, more pliable and soft than ever before and it had his brows drawing together in concern. "Are we okay?"

She tightened her grip around him, face hidden against his shoulder. Her voice was barely audible but she said "Yeah."

Jonathan didn't wear cologne but had this strange kind of ozone-like smell that lingered around him and he wasn't who Billy would've picked, but his arms held him, tight and warm and safe. He told himself that the tears he felt building in the corners of his eyes were the fault of this stupid girl body and, not for the first time, thought: God, I fucking hate this bitch.

***

Karen Wheeler was a little bit worried about her daughter. She’d been acting a little…different during the whole week, and Saturday morning certainly wasn’t showing any charges. On the one hand-

"Morning, Mom!" Nancy chirped, with a glowing smile that Karen couldn't help but return, pleasantly surprised and warmed by the large hug she received from her daughter.

She gave her a little extra squeeze, just because. "Morning, sweetie. Any plans today? Going out with Jonathan?"

She shrugged, her expression still that oddly beatific and angelic smile. "Maybe. Do you wanna go for a walk? Or we could bring Holly to the park?"

"Sure!" Karen melted. She really did have the sweetest kids. On the other hand-

Ted came into the kitchen and absently kissed her cheek, morning paper already in hand as he headed for the breakfast table. Although Nancy hadn't been speaking before he came into the room, her entire being seemed to go quiet. Subdued.

She hesitated. All of this behavior had been unusual enough. "Honey…is there something wrong?" Tentatively, Karen reached out to brush tenderly at Nancy's cheek. "You know whatever it is, you can talk to me."

She doesn't think that she hallucinated the wobble in her smile, but Nancy said "No, Mom. I'm good."

Internally, Karen sighed. She just wished her kids would try to confide in her.

She waited until Nancy went upstairs to get dressed before interrogating Mike on the matter. "Have you noticed anything different about your sister?"

Mike frowned into his cereal, chewing through his Lucky Charms. She'd called him a crawling little worm on Wednesday but- "Not really. Why?"

Karen sighed. She really hoped her teenage daughter wasn't pregnant or something. "Oh, nothing. Just a feeling. Finish your breakfast, honey."

***

Jonathan heard the car coming up the driveway before he ever saw it and while he didn't know who it was for sure, he was also not surprised to look out the window and see Steve Harrington’s red BMW pulling in. Heaving an inaudible but deeply felt sigh, he went to unlock the door, grateful that Mom was at work and Will had already been dropped off at Mike's.

Steve was filled with an anxious, furious energy from the moment he got out of the car and Jonathan held the door open for him. "You ate breakfast yet or just coffee?"

A tiny part of him is amused at Steve's expression - startled at his ire being sidetracked. “Really? You’re gonna offer to cook me breakfast?”

He shrugged. “If you’re going to chew me out, you might as well be full and comfortable while you do it.”

“I’m-I’m not gonna-” Steve cut himself off and sighed impatiently, running a hand through his hair that somehow managed not to push a hair out of place. Placidly, Jonathan continued to pull out a mixing bowl for pancakes. “Man, I’m not gonna yell at you - I just-wait, is your mom and Will home?"

Jonathan shook his head and Steve apparently felt free to continue his rant, pacing from the uneasy energy radiating out of him. “Look, couples fight and shit, I get that, I do-” He scoffed then rolled his eyes. “I mean, we didn’t but that was because we saved everything up for the end. I mean I know it’s normal and I understand but - Jesus Christ, keep me out of it!”

This last part was uttered with a bewildered sort of yowl and an equally discombobulated wave of Steve’s arms. Jonathan tilted his pan so that the butter was evenly melted across it.

“We aren’t-weren’t having a fight,” he said, with remarkable calm, all things considered - because if Steve heard Nancy make that level of sex joke at Jonathan when they were still together, he had no problem admitting that his head would’ve literally exploded. Actually, he kind of wishes Jonathan could teach this miraculous ability to remain calm about this shit.

Confused, Steve squinted at him, feeling a bit sorry although that was maybe not normal for the dude your ex-girlfriend basically left you for? Whatever, he still did. “Did you break up?”

“No.” Okay that whole serenity thing was becoming less admirable and more terrifying in that ‘calm before the storm’ kind of way. If Jonathan Byers was about to murder him, Steve thought he was at least owed like, a ten second warning, at least.

He doesn’t bother asking him to elaborate - in their year of truce-slash-friendship, Steve came to understand one very crucial fact about Jonathan: when he felt it, he would talk and when he didn’t, he wouldn’t. Mostly, he didn’t. Trying to poke and prod him into conversation would only make him grouchy and even more closed lipped than ever.

Sure enough, his patience was eventually rewarded - with both a large stack of fluffy flapjacks and Jonathan flopping into the chair across with him, mug of coffee in hand. Steve ate with gusto, pouring syrup over the entire stack and hoped that this meant he was ready to spill.

“If I ask you something, can you promise not to punch me?” he said quietly.

Steve’s brows bounced upward, cheeks bulging like a squirrel. He swallowed before he answered: “Oh, I don’t know if I like where this is going. One. One question, complete freebie. Choose wisely.”

“Was Nancy-” He figitated with the mug’s handle, looking awkward and probably more uncomfortable than Steve’s ever seen him. “How-”

“Come on, Byers, get it out.” He tried to inject some humor in his tone to ease the tension.

Jonathan finally gritted out: “Was Nancy scared of sex?”

Steve choked, coughed, and managed to wheeze “Are you seriously asking about our sex life right now?”

“No!” he barked, half covering his ears as if to demonstrate how very much he Did Not desire that. More stubbornly, he repeated himself. “Was Nancy ever afraid of having sex?”

He squinted, still trying to judge how serious Jonathan was and tapping his fork on the plate - both out of nerves but also kind of just to be annoying at the same time. “I mean, yeah - when you’re a virgin everything is new and weird and scary,” he said finally. “At first. Then you get over that, and you relax and enjoy it more. Growing pains, Byers?”

Again, he said it with a humorous lilt, hoping against all hope that Jonathan wouldn’t seriously ask him for sex advice because Steve Harrington was only a mere man and he had limits, for fuck’s sake. Jonathan’s expression was not embarrassed, but unhappy. Slowly, he said “I think something…happened.”

“You ‘think’,” Steve repeated, a bit incredulously. “You don’t know?”

“I mean, if it did, it didn’t happen with ME,” Jonathan corrected, impatient. “Because this actually started just before she made the dick joke to you. She’s…I dunno…scared, I guess?”

“Maybe she-y’know…” Steve went red and gestured vaguely while Jonathan continued to stare owl-eyed. “Period?”

“She’s never been this weird about it before!” he snapped.

Oh, he was starting to get a bad feeling here. “So you think…what? What do you think?”

“I don’t-I don’t know, Steve,” he muttered, face buried in his hands. “She got this - god, this fucking terrified look when I tried to kiss her hello on Monday morning, but she’s- she likes when I give her a hug. She was really…sweet about it, when I said goodnight yesterday.”

Steve eyed him. ‘Sweet’ was not necessarily the first word he’d used for Nancy. She was bright and kind and fierce, but he wasn’t sure if ‘sweet’ was an accurate descriptor.

“Dude…did you knock her up?” Steve asked, both horrified and maybe a little morbidly fascinated.

“NO!” Jonathan repeated, this time with almost hysterical insistence.

“Are you sure?” he said skeptically, “Because there is so much bad advice about that shit and it really only does take one time-”

“Mrs Wheeler has been pregnant three times, Steve,” he pointed out. “If she was, I don’t think that’s something she could hide for very long. And I don’t think she’d hide it from me.” He sighed, sad and miserable. Softer, he continued “We went over the French homework together last night and I just kind of…petted her hair a little? Scratched her scalp and stuff? She practically curled up in my lap and purred. She nearly fell asleep on me. But whenever I actually try to kiss her or…anything-”

“Spook city,” Steve murmured, guessing from Jonathan’s expression. “Huh. That is…pretty weird.”

“You’re telling me.” He squinted at Steve. “You never uh…introduced Nancy to Tommy’s dealer, did you?”

***

“Why did you do that?!” Max said, almost hysterical as Billy stumbled out the front door and began going toward the Camaro. “Why did you hit him-Billy, stop-stop! Come back in, I’ll-I’ll talk to him, Mom can get him to calm down - stop! Don’t leave, it’ll only get worse when you come back!”

Her stepbrother ignored her, Billy’s gait an oddly tight almost military-like march forward, He was…a lot cooler in the past week or so. Calmer. But in a weird way that Max found very unsettling. Like an alien had taken over Billy’s body.

So she still flinched when he reached behind him and grabbed her, shoving Max in front of himself and also toward the car. “We’re leaving, Max,” he said, his voice quieter and flatter than he normally spoke. That has been happening a lot lately, too. “Let’s go.”

Max faltered, inexplicably uneasy. “Where are we going?”

Billy was a safer presence than Neil even when her stepfather wasn’t furiously enraged, no question about it, but that didn’t mean he was safe.

“I’ve got to talk to someone, and you’re coming with me. Come on,” he repeated, this time in a tone that told her ‘no’ was not only not an answer, he required no answer from her, period.

Feeling wrongfooted and spooked, Max got into the passenger’s side of the car, darting occasional glances at him. She couldn’t seem to read his expressions anymore. It was normally very hard to read them anyway - his face was a hardened mask that Max often wasn't able to decode, but now his face seemed to do things it hadn't done before and it left her even less able to gage his reactions than usual.

Billy had looked at Neil with an almost detached curiosity, as though he were a movie goer seeing his dad on a screen, just moments before walloping Neil square in the jaw.

It was now up there with Steve fighting Demodogs in the junkyard as one of the most awesomely badass things she'd ever seen and Max was genuinely worried that Billy was gonna end up in a body bag tomorrow morning because of it.

Getting into the driver's seat of the Camaro, Nancy felt herself grin, unaware of how manic and crazed it naturally looked on these features, and Max shrank back into the seat beside her, clutching the door handle for dear life in terror at that expression.

This body felt so fucking strong.

#harringrove #jancy #billy hargrove #steve harrington #body swap au #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #stranger things

[girlreviews]

Review #485: Continuum, John Mayer

The thing you need to know first about my listening to this album is that I truly have never heard it, or any songs on it, ever. John Mayer was really not a mainstream thing in the UK where I grew up and any releases of new music from him happened without anyone on that little island being particularly aware of it, with a few exceptions here and there. So please imagine how weird that is when the opening track is, apparently, one of those ones that is so overplayed and recognizable in American culture that is provokes a visceral and physical response in people. But not me. I thought it was fine.

I actually hoped to like this album, because unfortunately for me, John Mayer’s “Sob Rock”, I genuinely believe has not yet had it’s day, and it’s one of the better works of art to be put out in the last decade. It was smart, conceptual, beautiful, serious and unserious and just really fucking good man. Whenever the question of what to listen to cannot be answered, the answer is Sob Rock. AND EVEN THAT has a banished song on it, because he can’t fucking help himself. John. It was 2021. It was following a year of reckoning for us all. And you thought it was funny or cool to put a track on there and unironically call it “Why You No Love Me”. Get the fuck out of here John. You’re honestly lucky the rest of it is good enough that I will tolerate this being on there at all. And it’s terrible. Get help. Get therapy. Get a lobotomy. Whoever she is, stay away from her.

I reasonably expected that this would be as good as that in a different way if it made its way to the Rolling Stone’s Top 500, but, I don’t get it. I really sat and asked myself what the appeal is for a good long while too.

There are some, SOME, like THREE tracks that I think are pretty decent songs. They’re interesting. They have depth. The rest of it is coffee house music or a guy who is trying really hard to convince you he’s a deep, romantic, misunderstood thinker. And I’m not picking up what he’s putting down. You’re a fraud my guy, I can feel it in these songs. They’re shallow. They’re a performance. But not in a good way.

This is the same John Mayer that proudly expressed in an interview (with Rolling Stone!) “My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I've got a Benetton heart and a fuckin' David Duke cock. I'm going to start dating separately from my dick."

Yeah, so I don’t think we are going to be reading into any of these soft boy coffee house Nora Ephron “missing each other” montage soundtrack vibes (listen to “Gravity” and tell me you can’t just see Meg Ryan drawing her curtains closed lamenting why Tom Hanks or Billy Crystal hasn’t called or emailed yet).

So look, it’s barreling towards mediocrity on all fronts, it’s especially full of shit conceptually, and I just think he needs to leave this kind of thing to Norah Jones, who isn’t really my cup of tea either but she’s not out there using the n-word in interviews, name-dropping David Duke, referring to past girlfriends as “sexual napalm”, or dating girls more than ten years younger than him that are barely adults. Just shut the fuck up John. If you’re not going to make something self deprecating that at least acknowledges what a garbage guy you are, then I’m not gonna be able to hear anything in it that’s good. That’s why Sob Rock works, you know that, right John? Cus you’re kind of a garbage guy and you’re kind of self aware in it. You’re in your forties now and this shit was never cute but I can promise you it’s just ugly now.

Honestly, I have no idea why this is critically acclaimed and the only thing I’ve got is that he is generally revered to be a prodigy of sorts on the old axe, is appreciated by his (male) peers for this, toured with the Grateful Dead etc, and this guitar is incorporated into this dull droll coffee house music. Here’s my response: so what?

Last thing on this. I once listened to Sob Rock for the bazillionth time, but I was laying in bed with it playing through my projector. I was very high. Spotify did that annoying thing it does where it puts a short animation up with the music and it was just giant on my wall. All I can say is that the vibe was ruined by John Mayer’s massive and disturbing lips. This is the duality of separating the art from the artist. Sometimes we love an album and we hate that we love it because they are such a dick and have weird lips that freak you out. If John Mayer was walking towards me on the street I would recoil in horror and run the opposite direction because his lips strike a primal fear deep in my heart. Is it rational? No. Is it true? Yes.

I listened to Continuum a second time to be thorough but it’s not gonna get a third go. But I will start a letter writing campaign insisting that the next iteration of the top 500 replace Continuum with Sob Rock and I’m pretty serious about that. My brain can’t make sense of this being better than that. I would say I’d die on that hill but I ain’t dying on no hill for this fool.

#music review #music #album review #continuum #john mayer #rolling stone top 500 #sob rock

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

Tumblr tag list:

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme​​    @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27  @haushinka27    @caylaxwrites   @extraneousred​   @agentmstark​   @crazywitchkitty​   @its-an-idea-not-a-blog  @partypoison00    @fictional-hooman​   @hoglady   @helnicks    @luckyfreakfishpeach   @chiquitita18   @rachlovesactors  @icecream50055    @doloreschanal​   @lupinsfavslytherin​    @swthxrry    @wanderlusting-about-life   @dreamer7black  @leahnicole1219 @superawesomegeek @weallhaveadestiny   @toxicenough @tiiffanym  @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @cap-just-said-language  @edithsvoice   @natashasilverfox

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x you #the punisher #a woman scorned

[one-sadistic-bitch]

The Murkoff Account comics (and Outlast 2 by extension) have absolutely no relevance to the original story of Outlast

and here’s why:

Content Warning

I am, of course, mainly going to discuss Trager’s storyline here, but it does also raise questions about the overall structure and timeline of Outlast as well.

My issue begins here

There’s a lot of information packed into this little paragraph.

First, it acknowledges that Trager has been apparently having “blood dreams.” In a different document, we are given information that suggests these dreams are Rick experiencing “Psychopathological Proximity Stress Disorder (PPSD).”

It’s my belief that this is referring to proximity to the morphogenic engine and/or it’s patients, rather than patients in general, since the psychosomatic pregnancies prove that the engine can affect people by proximity alone.

Secondly, Billy incriminates Trager by suggesting that the “blood dreams” are were he learned classified information. (This also explains that the morphogenic engine can connect people’s minds which is SUPER cool)

Thirdly, the last sentence expresses Murkoff’s newfound distrust for Rick. “(Note: the only Trager on company records, one Richard Trager, is an executive from M.R.D.) All orderlies and security personnel must be questioned and video security improved to include analytical biometrics.”

We all know what happens when you fuck with Murkoff secrets, cue the Trager email:

I may be biased, but to me, this all obviously points to Rick being admitted to Mount Massive because Murkoff knew that he either leaked information to Billy or was experiencing the engine’s negative effects, making him a liability either way. Murkoff’s no tolerance style would prove even more callous, tossing their own “brass” executive into the engine to protect their secrets.

That is simply the back story that was laid out for us, what comes next is the inconsistencies, the good part. I could go on for days about how Rick and Jeremy in the comics are NOTHING like Rick and Jeremy on the games as far as characters go, but I digress. Let’s talk about the obvious one:

This email proves that Rick and Jeremy (as well as Murkoff as a whole) were aware of the psychosomatic pregnancies before the events of the game (2010 and after). This starkly opposes the comics, which depict the company becoming aware of these pregnancies in 2012. This also implies that both Rick and Jeremy hadn’t been working at the Mount Massive location for very long, a maximum of 3 years, probably less. This means the “blood dreams” would have been new for Trager as he was only recently exposed to the morphogenic engine.

Yet again, in a separate document, a lawsuit over termination of female employees in 2010 is described:

Here it is, clear as day, “Female employees were

moved to higher floors in the facility, then to

other buildings, and eventually entirely off of

the Mount Massive facility.” IN 2010!!!

At the time of Trager’s depictions in The Murkoff Account, Murkoff should have been WELL aware of the psychosomatic pregnancies and all female employees should have been OUT of the Mount Massive facility. The events, at the very least for Trager’s chapter, in the comics should not have even been possible in the Outlast universe.

The events of the comics as a whole, dare I say, are not where the story of Outlast was originally intended to go, the foreshadowing makes that clear. This story could have been deep and emotional, and showed a real reason for Rick to seek revenge against the other Murkoff executives, but it was twisted and cheapened somewhere along the line.

The morphogenic engine was supposed to draw out and magnify the darker parts of Rick’s personality (AKA his unexplored medical curiosities), manifesting as dreams where he likely experimented on patients and other employees in a very gruesome way. It would have been so investing to see his decent into madness and watch how the dynamic between he and Jeremy changed along the way, until he was ultimately admitted, in an actual cruel and unjust way. Betrayed by the company that he was committed to. (I explore some of this in my fic ;))

This one of many examples, but this is who Trager is supposed to be! As Redbarrels has said before, he’s witty, cunning, and calculated. He might talk like a business school douchebag, but he is far from stupid or impulsive.

Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the way The Black Frog designed pre-engine Rick’s appearance

It’s fitting and charming, yet it still subverts your expectations, showing just how much Mount Massive and the engine really fucked him up.

But the story writing? Garbage. Inconsistent. Tasteless.

In short, what Outlast has become is not what Outlast was supposed to be or what it should have been.

Personally, I really believe the story was altered in an effort to make it as shocking and appalling as possible; I understand that this is an Outlast “thing,” but I also believe that the shock and disgust factor shouldn’t be the only thing you have. It has to WORK and lately I feel that it hasn’t been working in Outlast. After a certain point (lord they’re gonna tear me apart for this one) sole reliance on shock factor just starts to feel lazy. I want a horror game to be suspenseful and terrifying, not to repeatedly make me ask, “Wow, they really put THAT in the game???” Keep in mind that I LOVE Outlast and Redbarrels, this is just what I feel has happened to the series personally. I would have loved to see it unfold with more depth, but hey, it’s not my story to write.

I understand that some people like the retconned story better and that’s FINE. Not everything is made to be enjoyed by everyone and just because I don’t like something, doesn’t mean that you can’t. I just personally feel like I’m not much of an Outlast fan anymore, I’m just a fan of some characters they created.

That’s is why I don’t even pay mind to the comics. Thanks for the cool character design, I’ll be leaving now.

If you want me to discuss my opinions on how clumsily serious topics such as date r*pe we’re handled in the comics (happens a lot in Outlast actually), let me know. I didn’t want to include that here because I feel like it requires a better warning and I don’t want to do it if people don’t want it.

#here we are #go ahead #eat me alive #outlast #richard trager #rick trager #team rick #outlast whistleblower #outlast trinity #redbarrels #jeremy blaire #the murkoff account #murkoff #mount massive asylum

[strangerthings4theories]

Billy Is As Important To ST As Hopper And El - A Study Of Intro Shots

Hey. Psst. Come over here, I want to show you something.

Billy's really important to Stranger Things. If you've been following my meta, you know I have lots of reasons for saying that. But there's one I haven't mentioned yet:

His introduction puts him in the same character class as Hopper and El.

For all three characters, we get a shot of their feet first, framed against their environment. Then the camera pans up or over to show the audience who they are.

This is a specific filmmaking technique designed to generate interest, curiosity, and a sense of gravitas. Instead of appearing all at once, the character's entrance takes several seconds, giving us time to wonder, "Okay, who the hell is this person?" We can already tell they're someone special. The filmmakers are drawing out their introduction for quite a long time!

This technique is also genius because, if used a certain way, it tells the audience a character's backstory before we even see them. Take a closer look, and you’ll find the pattern holds true for all three characters...

1) Hopper

We start with a child's drawing, tacked to the wall, of a family and a house. This tells us Hopper has an emotional connection to the child and their family. We pan through his messy trailer, taking in the pill bottles and beer cans strewn everywhere. Obviously he has a substance abuse problem. No toys or childcare items; the child he loves isn't living with him. The TV is on, showing the morning news, suggesting he left the TV on all night.

Finally we reach Hopper himself. He's sleeping on the couch, which tells us he either doesn't like sleeping in bed, OR he was so strung out on substances he never got off the couch.

A dog wakes him up. Did he even set an alarm? Apparently not. This guy is either unemployed or doesn't care about getting to work on time.

He checks his watch, only to realize he's not wearing it... just a blue hair tie. A child's hair tie.

Without using dialogue, this shot tells us eloquently about his trauma and loss. The man used to have a family. He doesn't anymore. Now he's riddled with so much guilt and PTSD he uses substances to numb his feelings. He's also struggling to care about his responsibilities.

All of this in just a few seconds of film.

2) Eleven

We start with a shot of the ground covered in leaves and pine needles. A pair of feet walk into the shot - a child's feet, dirty and wearing no shoes. The child stops, and we pan up, taking in their dirty, ripped lab gown. Finally we see their face, which is crusted with mud on one side, suggesting they slept on the ground last night. Their hair is cut short like a prisoner's. We can't immediately tell if they're a boy or a girl.

This is El. Until now, she was a prisoner with no identity of her own, no right to express herself. But she escaped into the wild, and now she's lost and needs help.

Her bare feet touching the leaf-strewn ground speaks to her feminine connection to the earth. (See: every single earth goddess in world mythology.) It also illustrates her connection to the woods, a.k.a. the Upside Down - the source of mystery and monsters. (See: Red Riding Hood; Hansel and Gretel; other fairytales that take place in the woods.)

3) Billy

Billy's intro is downright thunderous, set to the thematically significant "Rock You Like A Hurricane." (Someday I'll make a post about Billy’s songs and what they mean 😉) We see and hear his car first; it's flashy and loud like a jungle cat. Steve and Nancy take notice, which tells us this character is hella important.

The car whips aggressively into a parking space. We switch to a shot of the license plate. "California" - he's not from around here. We pan over just in time for his door to open. Boom! A black boot slams down onto concrete. Its owner gets out and shuts the door while we pan up, taking in his form-fitted, denim-on-denim look. He's turned away from us, smoking a cigarette. We see his mullet and earring first.

Finally he turns towards us, framed against the sky, and... oh no. He's pretty.

Meanwhile his little sister gets out and skates away. Without even saying bye to him.

Hello, Hawkins. You've just met your bad-boy sex symbol. He's wearing a thick suit of armor in the form of denim and leather, and he's as disconnected from the earth (his feminine side, his emotions) as a boot on concrete. He is, however, associated with the air, sky, and storms, making him a symbolic sky god and the earth's opposite. He’s new in town, but he isn’t shy, and you're not going to forget him anytime soon.

For all his bluster, he has a hidden soft side. He's taking care of his little sister, who represents his younger, more innocent self. Right now, though, their relationship is... not great.

Intrigue. Gravitas. Backstory. These intro shots infuse Hopper, El, and Billy with all three qualities, giving them significant narrative weight.

These aren't characters who die halfway through their arcs. The Duffers have big plans for all of them, Billy included. And they've had those plans since the very first shot.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Billy Is Alive - A Meta Series

#billy hargrove #chief jim hopper #el hopper #billy hargrove is alive #stranger things theory #stranger things analysis #film analysis #stranger things is modern mythology #just fyi i bold certain words and phrases to help neurodivergent ppl read my posts #tw substance abuse

[heliads]

If I Can’t Have You

Based on this request: “one shot of Wanda and the reader are married and Agatha likes the reader and creates problem in their relationship. one day the reader and Wanda were fighting, the reader leaves to find Agatha who controls the reader to fall in love with her. Wanda finds the reader and removes the mind control.”

masterlist

Agnes walks down the sun-bleached sidewalk, arms full of a stack of hardbacks that most certainly were not transformed spellbooks. Of course they weren’t- she is Agnes now, not Agatha, and even nosy neighbours would never be caught dead studying incantations. She has to keep up the illusion of innocence, and that is final.

Agnes’ cheerful grin slips when her eye catches on something in the bushes. They should be drab shades of gray (they’re still stuck in the 50s, no matter how much Agnes wishes they would just change decades already), but there’s a flash of color inside them. Agnes groans. Is Wanda’s control disintegrating so quickly? Agnes gestures towards the bush ever so slightly, and the color fades back to black and white in a second, with only a flash of purple dancing around Agnes’ fingertips to show that anything had changed.

However, in the split second that Agnes’ focus had been diverted away, her tall stack of books had begun to slide out of her arms. Agnes reaches out to steady the pile once more, but it’s too late- the books cascade to the ground, spilling out over the pale concrete. Agnes kneels, ignoring the spike of heat slicing up her knees from the sunburned sidewalk, and begins to gather up the books. To her surprise, a second figure leans down beside her, picking up the scattered hardbacks as well.

When Agnes looks up, her breath catches slightly in her throat. There’s someone standing over them, sun shining out in a halo over their head. A smile flashes across their face as they hold out the remaining books. “I’m Y/N. I don’t think we’ve been able to meet before.” Agnes shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I would have remembered you, hon. The name’s Agnes.” Y/N grins, teeth flashing in the sun. “It’s nice to meet you, Agnes. I think we’re neighbours- I live down the block with my wife, Wanda. Great to make some new friends.”

Agnes clears her throat. “Well, thank you for your help.” Y/N tilts their head in acknowledgement. “Well, I figured I might as well do something quickly. Wanda’s right down the block, and I don’t think you would have wanted her to see you summon up some purple sparks to retrieve the books.” Agnes stares. “You-” Y/N waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to say anything. I saw you fix that hedge, so clearly you’re here to help. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s keep a secret for a friend. See you around, Agnes.”

With that, Y/N heads back down the sidewalk, footsteps echoing down the concrete path. Agnes is left staring. Y/N knew about the magic and Y/N is married to Wanda, yet they aren’t going to say anything? As Agnes walks back to her house, she realizes there’s a new feeling of rage bubbling up in her stomach against the red-haired witch. It’s not just envy of Wanda’s chaos magic. No, this is something different. It takes Agatha a while to realize what it is, and then it occurs to her. She’s jealous that Wanda has Y/N in her life every day.

Agatha can’t take this feeling of envy for much longer. She begins small spells targeting Wanda and Y/N’s marriage, ones that will sow seeds of discontent that will draw Y/N to Agatha instead. At first, they’re barely noticeable- traffic is bad so Y/N arrives home later and later each day, Wanda keeps forgetting to keep a space out for Y/N at the dinner table. Then, it’s time for Agatha’s magnum opus- one thunderous rain storm that forces Y/N to dash into Agatha’s house to escape the torrential showers.

Y/N only has to knock a couple of times before Agatha opens her door, quickly ushering the drenched neighbour into her house. Y/N apologizes profusely, but Agatha just shakes her head. “It’s fine, trust me. I’d rather you stay in here for a while and dry up than have to run home in this sort of weather.” She hands Y/N a blanket, which they accept gratefully, wrapping around their shoulders.

Y/N gets distracted by a bookcase in the corner of the room, a deep mahogany number with intricate carvings detailing the sides. “You have a good collection of books here. Rivals even my own.” A faint smile slips across their face as they examine the titles, a warmth in their eyes as if greeting dozens of old friends. At last, Y/N’s finger stops over one book in particular, and they carefully draw it out from amongst the others.

Agatha leans over to Y/N, curious. “Which book is that?” Y/N delicately opens the cover, poring over the detailed illustrations and long swoops of text. “Greek mythology. I’ve always been a fan.” Y/N flips through the pages, stopping before one particularly beautiful depiction of a myth. In the drawing, a goddess lies desolate over the body of a lover, roses beginning to form where blood pools from their body.

“Aphrodite and Adonis. That’s a classic. The goddess of love and the queen of the underworld both fell in love with this one mortal hero, Adonis, and they fought over him for a long time.” Agatha furrows her brow. “What happened?” Y/N shakes their head sadly. “Adonis ended up dead, killed by a boar. The stories differ over the killing- some versions say it was Ares, Aphrodite’s husband, or it could have been Persephone herself, jealous that Adonis was falling in love with her rival. Either way, he ended up dead and they both ended up unhappy.”

Y/N sighs. “There are a lot of myths like that, actually. Two gods fall for one lover and in the resulting fight, the world seems to be torn apart. Something similar happened with Hercules and the river god Achelous over Deianeira, actually. Every time, two fall in love with one, and every time, violence always follows. If one god couldn’t have their lover, then nobody could. It never made sense to me. Why tear apart the world over love? Besides, it always hurt the lover, who never had any choice in the matter. A waste, honestly.”

Y/N closes the book and glances outside the window. “Look, it stopped raining. I will stop intruding on your hospitality with my sad Greek myths and leave you to your afternoon.” Agatha starts to raise her voice to protest, to say that Y/N could never be a waste of time, but Y/N is already donning her coat and slipping out the door with a raised hand and a final declaration of gratitude.

Wanda waits for Y/N when they get home. She stands in the middle of the living room, just waiting for when her spouse walks through the door. Y/N has barely closed the door behind them when they see their wife, and their smile fades. “What’s wrong, Wanda? You look upset.” Wanda’s gaze remains steady, bordering on harsh. “I wonder why that would be. I wonder why my spouse would show up late again, especially when I asked them to be here early for dinner.”

Y/N gestures loosely at the door behind them. “I couldn’t go anywhere! It was raining so hard I could barely see two feet in front of me. Here, you can see my jacket, my hair, they’re wet-” Y/N’s voice breaks off as they reach for their coat and find it perfectly dry. They rush to the window, but there is no sign of rain. No puddles, no clouds, nothing. Y/N turns back to Wanda, a look of bewilderment fogging up their eyes.

“I have no idea what happened. I swear, it was raining, but now there’s nothing there at all.” Wanda raises an eyebrow. “Yes, that’s very convincing, isn’t it? A magically disappearing rainstorm apparent only to you.” Y/N tilts their head, irritation beginning to show. “Don’t use that tone. I would never lie to you. This is just strange. Something is happening and I can’t understand it.” They throw their arms up in frustration, but just as they raise their hands, Wanda flinches. It’s a small movement, barely there at all, but it’s enough for Y/N to notice. Instantly, all annoyance fades from their face, replaced by swift betrayal.

“You flinched- you thought I would-” Y/N’s voice is quiet, barely there at all. Wanda shakes her head fervently. “I didn’t mean that. It was an accident.” Y/N looks back at their wife, expression bleak. “It wasn’t an accident, though. You thought I would hit you? You truly think so little of me?” Y/N turns around, grabbing their coat from the door once more. “I think I should go. I think that would be best for both of us.”

Wanda reaches out to stop Y/N from leaving, but her spouse has already disappeared through the front door. A quiet gasp comes from the stairs behind Wanda, and she turns to see Billy and Tommy clustered together on the stairs, twin looks of horror on their faces. Billy is the first to speak. “Are they leaving us?” Wanda rushes over to them, hurrying in her apologies. “Of course not. Everyone has disagreements, you know? It’s impossible to be perfectly happy forever. Y/N is going to come back very soon, and we’re going to talk things out again. That’s what makes us love each other, you know. We always come back to each other in the end.”

Wanda’s voice is light and untroubled, but her children still don’t look entirely convinced. In fact, Wanda doesn’t even look convinced herself. After Billy and Tommy retreat back upstairs to their rooms, Wanda walks slowly to the kitchen and sits down at the table, placing her head in her hands. What has she done? What if Y/N really doesn’t come back?

Y/N regrets storming out of the house as soon as the front door closes behind them. They want nothing more than to go back inside and apologize, but they’ve always had too much pride to swallow. So, they walk out of their house, heading out into the street. Maybe they’ll go into town for a while, shoot the breeze and cool down, and then come back home and make things right. Y/N has never been able to stay away from Wanda for too long, especially during an argument. That’s what made them work so well together- they always returned to each other.

However, Y/N hasn’t gone more than a couple of feet down the road when someone walks up to them. Y/N glances over, recognizing Agnes. “Look, I’m sorry but I don’t really want to talk right now. I’ve already messed things up with Wanda, I think it’s best that I stay by myself for a while.” Agatha’s smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Of course you want to come with me, hon. You love me.” 

Y/N frowns, but with a wave of Agatha’s hand a violet streak flashes across Y/N’s eyes and a relaxed smile spreads across their face. “I do love you.” Agatha holds out her hand, and Y/N takes it without a second’s hesitation. Agatha glances over at Y/N, considering them. “Actually, I think we need one more spell. I can’t have Wanda recognizing you, after all.” Agatha murmurs a spell under her breath, and Y/N’s features ripple and change into an entirely different face. Even if Wanda happened to see Y/N walking with Agatha, she would have no idea who they were.

Wanda is growing more uneasy as the hours pass by. Y/N should have returned by now, they should have made up by now. The fact that they aren’t here tells Wanda that something is wrong. Wanda knows it must be the aftereffects of the argument, but yet there’s something in the back of her head telling Wanda that there might be some foul play. After a while, Tommy slips into the room, pausing as he walks by Wanda.

“Are you still looking for Y/N?” Wanda nods, then frowns at Tommy’s tone. “What do you mean, still? Do you know where she is?” Tommy shakes his head, but he hesitates slightly. Wanda jumps on this uncertainty like a lion. “Tommy, love, I need you to tell me where Y/N is. We both know something isn’t right, don’t we? This is really important.”

Tommy still deliberates, but after frantic glances from Wanda he finally relents. “I was running past Agnes’ house and I saw someone in there. I had never seen them before, and Billy says that nobody new has come into town. It didn’t look like Y/N, but it was still strange.” Wanda swoops forward, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “Thank you so much for telling me. I’ll go look into that right away. Stay here with Billy, alright? I’ll be back in a second.”

The methodical rhythm of Wanda’s boots echoes down the street as she heads purposefully to Agnes’ house. She knocks a couple of times before the door opens, and Wanda is face to face with an utterly unfamiliar person. Wanda blinks in confusion. “Hi, I’m Wanda. I was looking for someone.” The stranger in Agnes’ house smiles. “Well, come on inside. Maybe you’ll find them here.”

Wanda nods, following the stranger inside. “What’s your name, by the way?” Wanda asks, and the stranger just looks at her. “I wasn’t given a name.” There’s a moment of tension, like the stranger is almost begging Wanda to realize something, but then their face smooths over and everything returns to normal. Wanda is shown to a seat in the living room, and she stares around Agnes’ house. She reaches out with her mind, searching for Y/N, but nothing happens.

The stranger bustles back into the room. “Agnes is out, but she’ll be back in a little bit. Is there anything I can do for you right now?” Wanda shakes her head, standing up. “Actually, I don’t think so. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Wanda starts to head to the door, but the stranger quickly walks in front of her, blocking her path. “Are you sure? I thought you were looking for someone.” The stranger is staring at them with a look so full of pain and hope that Wanda almost has to look away. What would the stranger want Wanda to know? What would they know, except-

Then Wanda realizes, and she reaches out a tentative hand to the stranger’s temples. Wanda concentrates for a second, searching, and then she feels the spell masking the stranger’s thoughts and pulls it away like she’s removing a blindfold. Instantly, the stranger straightens up, and they shudder for a second as their face changes into a more familiar countenance. Wanda cries out in relief, wrapping her arms around Y/N, for of course it is they who stand before her. 

“I thought you were missing- I thought you hated me-” Y/N holds tight to Wanda. “No. No, I could never. I tried to go back, but then the spell hit and I couldn’t do anything.” Y/N leans back, cupping Wanda’s face gently in her palm. “I’m so glad you found me. I was so scared that you wouldn’t know it was me.” Wanda smiles bittersweetly. “I will always come back to you. Every single time.”

Wanda and Y/N leave Agatha’s house, heading quickly back to their own home, back to their twin boys who look up excitedly when they see Y/N return. Wanda and Y/N do not notice Agatha, who just arrives at her house in time to see the married couple disappear back through their own front door. Agatha glares, storming into her house to see the hated truth- Y/N is indeed gone, the spell broken. In a moment of utter rage, Agatha lets her power flow through her, murky indigo smoke pouring over the room as walls crack and glasses break.

When Agatha is at last able to control herself, she stands panting in the middle of the room. Her eyes catch on a book that had been yanked from its shelf, a book that now lies open on the ground. Agatha’s eyes widen as she takes in that familiar drawing of the goddess and the lover, from the story Y/N had been talking about earlier. Aphrodite and Adonis, forced to repeat their pain once more.

But Agatha understands it now, understands it as Y/N had never been able to fully comprehend. Why shouldn’t the gods tear apart the world? This feeling in Agatha’s chest, this empty broken rage, will never be able to subside. Y/N loves Wanda, and Wanda loves Y/N. There is no room for Agatha in that story. 

A twisted, fractured smile begins to wend its way across Agatha’s lips. Before, she had been hesitant about messing too much with Wanda’s reality, but now, all rules are gone with Y/N. If Agatha can’t have Y/N, no one else will. Wanda doesn’t stand a chance.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mycosmicparadise​ @mionemymind​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​    

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff oneshot #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagines #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #mcu #marvel #mcu oneshot #mcu imagines #wandavision #wandavision imagines #wandavision oneshot

[psychdelia]

max showed up on his doorstep with blotchy red cheeks and puffy wet eyes, board discarded on his lawn as she pounded on the door with her free hand, holding a shoebox in the other.

“okay, okay!” steve called out as he rushed downstairs. “i’m coming! jeez.” he huffed as he opened the door, ready to bark out a what, shithead? because who else would show up to his place and pound on his door for a minute straight?

except his mouth snaps shut when he sees her shivering in the winter cold and cheeks still damp. it’s been about 4 months since billy died and he hadn’t seen max in this state for a couple months now. he thought things were getting better.

maybe not.

“max.” he frowned. “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay? are you hurt?” he asked, the panic in his tone increasing with each question.

she just shoved the box into his hands, giving him a determined look. so similar to billy’s. too similar.

“i found this in his room.” he can hear the suppressed tremble in her voice as she fights the urge to cry again. “i never gave it you because i thought maybe,” she frowns, looking down. “maybe he-“ she lets out a shaky breath. “but he never came back so it’s yours now.”

then a switch is flipped and she’s suddenly glaring up at him, yet another expression too similar to billy’s.

“you can’t tell anyone.” she clenches her shaking fists. “if you tell anyone what you find in there i swear to god steve i’ll hurt you.” her upper lip is twitching into a snarl and steve is genuinely scared of this little fiery teenager.

“jesus, max,” he sighs. “first of all, you two are way too goddamn similar for not being blood related.” he ruffles her hair with a free hand. “second of all, you can’t just tell me what’s in here?”

“no.” she shakes her head as she bats his hand away. “just,” she plays with the hem of her jacket nervously. “just keep an open mind.” she frowns. “we’re not from here. things are... different back home.” her shoulders sag a little and he can tell she misses home. misses life before hawkins. “promise you won’t tell anyone?” she looks back up at him.

he frowns as he stares at the box in his hand before nodding. “promise.”

“good.” she nods. she rubs harshly at her face with her sleeve before turning away to walk to the lawn.

“you need a ride?” he calls as she grabs her board. chuckles when she rolls her eyes, tosses back an i can get myself around, steve. then a quick thanks, though. see you around. then she’s taking off.

steve practically sprints up to his room after that. sets this mystery converse box down in front of him on the bed as he sits, unsure of what to expect. maybe porn mags? weed stash? who knows.

so, naturally, he dumps it all out on the bed. stares at the pile of magazines, books, seashells, pictures, papers. the first thing he grabs are the magazines, expecting to see a half naked chick on the cover. he freezes when he finds a half naked man instead, clad in leather.

drummer. drummer. drummer. all of these are the same magazines, different issues with different men. he wonders if they’re targeted towards women, but then he’s opening them up and finding men... with other men. figures maybe hargrove had been holding onto them for someone else because there’s no way in hell these are his. no, no, no. that boy was straight as hell. loved to show off a different girl hanging off his arm every week, made shows of flirting with both girls and women.

but then he’s grabbing a polaroid dated 1983 and it’s billy with shorter hair and fuller cheeks kissing another boy with a big smile and lovesick dopey look on his face.

holy shit. this can’t be real. billy hargrove wasn’t gay. he couldn’t be. he was the womanizer, ladykiller, heartbreaker of hawkins. he loved women and they loved him 10 times more. none of this makes sense.

he grabs the journal next, the leather on the cover worn and threadbare. the first entry is dated from 1983 and the last just a couple weeks before starcourt. right before he got possessed.

steve sets the journal aside, opts to look at the other pictures and items billy had stashed away before he reads about the last three years of the guy’s life. there are a couple pictures of a blonde woman with striking resemblance to billy, the same saint christopher pendant and thick silver ring billy wore present around her neck and finger. some of them feature billy when he was a baby, toddler, kid. he finds jewelry that seems feminine, womanly. figures they must’ve been his mom’s.

there are also some california souvenirs. he finds seashells and movie, concert tickets that read “san diego” on the top. there are also some books steve remembers he was supposed to have read or heard about in school, but also some more he never heard of.

at the very bottom of the box he finds expired makeup and empty hair product. there’s black and dark blue eyeliner and mascara, baby pink lip gloss. nail polish in black, dark red and a deep purple. in some polaroids, the slight sheen of the gloss and his dark, thick lashes are barely visible, but he still catches it.

steve can’t help but chuckle when he finds some candy wrappers and leftover weed grinds at the bottom of the box alongside the butts of joints and empty cigarette packs. marlboro reds. there’s scrunchies, too. shimmery and purple, probably stolen from max.

once’s he’s finished digging through hargrove’s secret belongings, he leans back and sticks his nose in the journal. it takes him the rest of the day and all night to read it from cover to cover.

the beginning is mostly about missing his mom and hating his father, documenting his abuse. there are a few pages about his crushes and boyfriends, allowing him to figure out that the boy he was kissing in the polaroid is named santiago, but billy calls him santi. once he reaches the end of san diego and beginning of hawkins, billy’s tone and messy scrawl is full of hurt, anger, and melancholy.

and then steve’s name pops up. KING STEVE in all caps, taking up nearly half the page. there are hearts around his name, alongside a big drawing of a dick. below, billy writes about feeling like a foolish schoolboy with some stupid crush on some guy with a huge dick he saw in the showers. steve’s already blushing and it only deepens when he gets to the part about billy wanting to feel said dick in his hand, his mouth, inside of him.

he has to take a break after that. doesn’t realize things only get spicier until he gets back to reading and finds out billy’s jerked off and fingered himself open to the thought of none other than king steve. his eyes immediately flick to the half empty jar of vaseline, finger-shaped holes indenting the jelly.

he spends the rest of the night reading about billy’s remorse and guilt towards him and lucas after that night, how billy still wants to hop on his dick and kiss him stupid, his and max’s relationship and how it’s gotten better even though they still blame each other for the move.

it’s both of their faults, steve realizes. billy missed his curfew for a boy and max had no choice but to lead neil to him.

along the way to the end, a couple pictures of steve fall out of the journal. pictures that steve has no idea how billy acquired. some are from school yearbooks, others just random polaroids that might’ve been taken by tommy or carol or jonathan. when he finally reaches the end, he reads about billy’s pool job and plans fo move back to california for college as soon as he graduates.

i know it’s stupid but i’m gonna miss him. his stupid hair and big brown eyes and pretty face and pink lips. i didn’t know anything about the guy but i wish i could drag him out of this shithole and take him home with me. i still haven’t apologized to him. maybe kidnapping him and showing him the ocean would count. but i can’t fall for a straight boy, no matter how big his cock is. i don’t get to fall for someone i hurt. it’s not fair. none of this is fair.

that’s the very last entry. it’s 1am and steve is wide awake. too awake. before he thinks too hard about what he’s doing, he’s shoving everything back into the box and flooring it to robin’s house. he knocks on her window incessantly until she opens it with a glare and he’s pushing his way inside before she can greet him with a snarl.

“billy hargrove was gay and in love with me and-and and jerked off to me and,,, pretended his fingers were mine and his dad was hurting him and his mom left and he was alone, robin.” he’s rambling, eyes wide as he paces the room with the box in his hands.

“he was s-so hurt and alone and no one paid any attention and now he’s dead because of a monster in some town he got dragged to as punishment for being gay and,” his voice cracks. “he’s gone.” he whispers brokenly as he shoves the box into her hands.

robin is very confused and surprised but all she knows is that her best friend is in distress, so she sets the box down and grabs his hands.

“steve. look at me.” she only continues when he does. “sit down and talk to me. let’s go through everything together, okay? just calm down and breathe.”

by 3am robin’s looked through the box and the majority of the journal - steve dog-eared the important pages and she’s a fast reader - and she’s just as shocked as steve, apparently, if her bewildered expression and silence is anything to go by.

“robin? rob, say something.” he urges. “please. i need you to talk to me.”

“holy shit.” she finally raps. “steve, i’m gonna ask you a question and i don’t want you to freak out, okay?”

he nods.

“do you think you could’ve... reciprocated billy’s feelings?”

he opens his mouth to answer but halts, eyes wide and crazy as he stares at her.

“i-“ he gulps. “maybe?” he croaks out. “i-i think so? maybe yeah. yeah.” he nods.

“so you’re bisexual.”

and that’s throwing him on a whole other whirlwind. steve’s had too much thrown at him for the night and he doesn’t have it in him to deal with a sexuality crisis on top of everything.

but billy’s pretty. so fucking beautiful and steve can’t admit it just yet but he wishes he were still here. he wishes he could travel back in time and reach out to billy and save him from the horrors of hawkins but also kiss and fuck and love him properly but now it’s too late and steve and billy have one thing in common.

they’re both alone. lonely. so much love to give but no one to receive or give back.

“bisexual?” he chokes out.

“you like both. boys and girls. like david bowie. and david bowie’s awesome. you’re kinda awesome too, i guess. for a dingus.” she playfully punches his arm and it makes him feel better for all of 2 seconds until it’s hitting him again that the person who wanted to love him is dead. died right in front of him.

“do you have hot chocolate?” she nods. “with marshmallows?” she nods again. “can i have some?”

he feels like he’s about to faint. completely black out. wonders if he looks pale to robin. he needs something warm and comforting and hot coco will do the trick.

———————————

billy comes back in february. hopper and joyce gathered everyone up in joyce’s living room early february. sat everyone down to announce that hop had gotten... a call. a call from some doctor named owens who hop has a history with, the same doctor who helped will.

owens was nursing billy back to health in some secret lab in indianapolis, hence the funeral with no body. apparently billy was in comatose, then a medically induced coma when his brain woke up but he wasn’t strong enough to just yet. then, when he did wake up, he had to relearn how to eat, write, walk in physical therapy, alongside the heavy emotional therapy.

owens hid billy from the world until he was ready to be exposed to it again. then he called hopper one afternoon and told him to come pick the boy up.

max was angry. screamed and yelled until she was reduced to tears in joyce’s arms. the other kids were shocked and confused. didn’t know if they should be happy or scared. will and el were the only positive ones. nancy and jonathan were mostly shocked and indifferent, numb to these crazy surprises the shithole town throws at them. steve and robin just stared at each other knowingly, a million thoughts racing their minds.

a week later they were all in joyce’s living room again, nervously anticipating hopper and billy’s arrival. everyone looked up when the doorknob began to jerk and the lock turned, their eyes trained on the door as it opened to reveal hopper standing beside billy.

billy. clad in a big hoodie, gray sweats and converse. the same ones that were once in the box steve has hidden under his bed. his hair is long now, flowing freely and curling wildly at the ends, looking so soft with the lack of product. he looked tired, fading blue bags under his eyes. he hadn’t lost his tan, steve noted, and looked a little softer around the stomach and legs. for someone who went through all the shit he did, billy looked good. healthy.

max got to him the second he stepped inside, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. he immediately clung to max, holding her tight and whispering a shaky, wet hey, shitbird, only audible to her, resulting in her wet laugh. the siblings stayed like that for a few moments before pulling away to let billy see and greet everyone.

joyce had demanded they all not coddle billy because it would be suffocating and he probably couldn’t deal with that. except now she was serving and feeding him a million things, coddling him just like any other mother would. billy was hesitant and tense at first, but slowly relaxed, especially when he was given cookies.

sweet tooth, steve distantly remembered. billy has a sweet tooth, if the candy wrappers and lollipop sticks in the box were anything to go by.

everyone takes turns greeting and talking to billy. steve’s last in line to have his quick one-on-one with the guy and by the time they’re face to face, everyone’s sitting together, talking and laughing and eating.

“hey,” steve greets with a small smile. he can feel robin’s eyes on him and not-so-slyly flips her the bird, his eyes trained on billy and only billy. “it’s good to have you back.”

“you know you don’t have to say that, harrington, especially if you don’t mean it.” billy tries to joke but his eyes and smile are sad. “i only died for, like, two minutes. not a big deal.”

“shut up, man.” steve rolls his eyes and chuckles. “i do mean it.” he chews on his bottom lip nervously, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure there are no eyes on them before he looks back to billy.

then he’s reaching out and grabbing billy’s hand. running his thumbs over the scars along his palm and knuckles. he looks up to find billy confused and blushing. he smiles before pulling billy into a tight hug.

“you look good. so good.” steve whispers in his ear, getting a whiff of generic coconut shampoo. he has one arm wrapped tight around billy’s waist, holding him close with their bodies flush. he slides his free hand down and rests it on billy’s ass, barely squeezing. he chuckles when billy jumps a little.

“harrington.” billy chokes out, voice wrecked. “what’s your hand doing on my ass?” steve can feel billy’s lips moving on his neck and it makes him shudder.

“just doing what i should’ve done a while ago.” he sighs, content, just holding billy’s warm, very much alive body close to his.

“if you wanted to get in my pants, pretty boy, all you had to do was ask.” billy flirts with a smirk steve can feel on his neck. then he pauses. “you’re not fucking with me?” he asks, tone serious.

“nuh uh.” steve shakes his head. “actually, uh,” he pulls away just enough to meet billy’s eyes. “max gave me your shoebox.” he watches as billy’s eyes widen and go fiery. “hey, no, don’t get mad at her. it’s not her fault. she didn’t know you were comms back.” steve reasons. “plus, now i know big bad heartbreaker billy hargrove has a crush on little ole me.”

“who says i still do?” billy raises his eyebrows, as if his hands aren’t tightly holding onto steve’s shoulders and he’s not blushing and making heart eyes at the guy.

steve’s not too bright, but he knows when people have a crush on him. he’s always been bright in the language of love. and sex, for that matter, as billy will eventually find out when he inevitably get lovingly and romantically railed and fucked into steve’s mattress later that week.

“just have a feeling.” he shrugs, giving billy’s ass one last squeeze before he rests his hands on his hips with a grin.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my writing

[wandsandwheezes]

Family Man | F. W

TW // mentions of prem kids, pregnancy, children but mostly pure fluff

Taglist ✨ @witch-and-a-half @weasleysflowr @hufflepuffgirly @theweasleysredhair @wand3ringr0s3

If you asked Fred Weasley what his pride and joy was, people would usually expect him to beam proudly about the success of the shop with his brother, nevertheless, when he smiles fondly and says 'Thea Weasley' people are more often than not surprised.

Fred loved his Daughter so much that words couldn't describe how much happiness filled his heart every time he saw her. The second she was born, she had him wrapped around her little finger, a father that would do anything for her.

When you and Fred married, you were quick to fall pregnant with your first child, a Daughter, named after your Mother but the absolute spitting image of her father, however her soft strawberry blonde locks curled into ringlets, a trait that seemed to sprout as soon as her hair was long enough.

"How're my girls doing?" Fred whispers, pulling off his jacket, having just walked in from a day at the shop. You're sat with your daughter nestled into your side, about an hour or so deep into a nap. Fred gently scoops her up, not before pressing a small kiss to your forehead with a sweet hello, her little arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, falling back asleep instantly.

He took her up to her bed, tucking her in underneath her covers before pressing a gentle kiss to her hair, "goodnight my sweet angel, sleep well"

"I wish she'd stop growing," He says, joining you on the sofa, allowing you to cuddle into his side, his hands moving to play with your hair as he kicks off his shoes. "one day I'll wake up and my little girl will be an adult."

Laughing gently, you trace circles on his chest, feeling relaxed against him, you reminice of the moments you'd had together as teenagers, talking like this about your futures, getting married, how many kids you'd wanted and how you'd both give anything to do all of that with each other.

"Unfortunately Freddie, all they do is grow," You move to press a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling your nose into his neck for warmth, causing him to wrap his arms even tighter around you.

Little did you know that day, you were already pregnant with your second & third weasley children - the twins, like their father but one boy and one girl, Lee and Winnie. Identical apart from the eyes, the girl like her fathers and the boy much like yours, both with signature weasley hair.

Not even a few months after the twins you found out you were having another son, Billy who looked much like his uncle Bill did as a child, as Molly had pointed out hence his name. You originally wanted to call him Jamie but when you met your little boy for thr first time, both you and Fred decided that Billy was definitely more fitting.

finally your youngest daughter, Arabella. She was a gift that none of you had expected, after some complications after having Billy, you didn't think that having another child would be on the cards again. You found out you were pregnant a week or so before Fred's Birthday you had taken test after test, and even a trip to St Mungos to make sure, but as your doctor assured you, Arabella was on her way.

The thing about little Bella was that she was a tiny baby, a premature birth. When she was born she was so fragile looking and hearing her cries broke Fred's heart. The doctors said that she was quite frankly a miracle, making her just another pillar of pride for your adoring husband.

Having five children with Fred was an interesting experience, the house grew louder and louder and soon became like a second Burrow, children in and out of the house, magic everywhere. It truly was reminiscent of both of your childhoods. Despite having all the children to look after, he loved all of them with his whole heart and nothing less.

Your kids loved loved going to see Fred's parents and getting to spend time with Uncle George and Uncle Ron it was heart-warming to watch your family love the people you chose to be your family. Winnie absolutely adored being around Ginny and Lee wanted nothing more than to be like his Uncle Harry.

When Thea's Hogwarts letter came, Fred genuinely thought he was going to have a heart attack, "Merlin, Y/N, my little girl isn't old enough to be going to Hogwarts!" he was sat across the table from you eating his lunch, The sounds of Lee and Winnie bickering as Billy quietly draws and Arabella sits in your lap, listening into the conversation. To you, you were watching your babies grow up right before your eyes but to Fred they were always his babies.

"Freddie, my love it'll be the twins next, Lee wont shut up about getting to see Uncle Harry at school." you laugh, playing with the little curls on Arabella's head, a trait inherited from her oldest sister, "give it four years and our Bella will be off on her first year at Hogwarts with all of her siblings."

"I don't even want to think about that, I really don't know how Mum did it, sending us off one by one." you laugh lightly looking at your husband with a small smirk, "From what i heard from Molly, she was all but kicking you onto the platform, apparently you and George were a nightmare"

"We so were not!" he defended, feigning fake offense, rolling his eyes and taking a bite from his sandwich. "I think we were absolute golden angels" you raise an eyebrow at him, shaking your head, "You can be a golden angel and take Thea with you to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get her supplies, I don't fancy a day trip to London with the whole weasley clan just yet!" you laugh, he nods finishing up his food, the plate finding it's way to the sink, being washed up magically like at the Burrow, he presses a kiss to your hair, heading quickly to step into his father shoes, only to break up the growing argument between the twins.

You sat, content in the family you created, praising your younger self for putting up with all of Fred's antics because really, you were the luckiest girl on earth, with the greatest man alive, a loving father and the best Husband.

The time came to send Thea off on the Hogwarts Express, Molly had agreed to look after the rest of the children as you sent off your oldest, you were crying with fred as you hugged your little girl goodbye before she got onto the train. "Remember, Thea, it doesn't matter what house you get put in, and if you need someone to help you, you find Ted or Uncle Harry and they'll help you out." she laughs, wrapping her arms around her father's neck giving him a long hug. "I'll be fine, Dad, after all, I've got the weasley name to live up to!" he smiles proudly at his daughter, i give her one last kiss, giving her a couple of galleons for the train, "I love you, Thea." she hugs me again, "Love you too, Mumma!"

"One down, Four to go." you joke, leaning into your husband's side as you wave the train off, "At least the twins will have each other and Thea next year, the poor girl is all on her own!" you shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm sure she's already made friends, she's much like you when it comes to being outgoing..." he smiles, calming down a little, "I can't believe we've just sent our first off to Hogwarts." you hug him gently. "Neither can I, Freddie, neither can I."

#fred and george #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #harry potter #weasley twins #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader