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first-and-last-neocount · 3 years

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Whumptober Day 2

So much love to @theobscurepotato and @peregrinealpha, you guys are fantastic and I really appreciate the support, it means the world to know that I’m not the only one excited for this! <3

I have no excuse for this one. Pretty sure this is the purest definition of an id fic, because it just kinda wrote itself, and when I was done and went back to read over it the front of my brain was like ‘what the hell did I just create’ and my lizard brain was purring ‘yesss, good’ like goddamn Palpatine. This is definitely not a scenario that I think would actually have happened in canon, but apparently it’s a scenario my brain wanted to play with, and I definitely do blame it on Gerald canonically having way too much fun needling Damien for no obvious reason other than for the sake of winding him up.

Much like day 1, this is right in the grey area where I wasn’t sure whether to tag it NSFW or not, but I’m erring on the side of caution because I’d rather be overly conscientious than not. I also wasn’t entirely sure how to word the content warning tags, so I tagged it for general self destructive behaviour, because uh - what Gerald is doing here is not how to have a healthy relationship, kids. This is ‘personal experience with adolescent trauma’ meets ‘horrifically bad coping mechanisms’ with a dash of ‘really really warped views on intimacy’. This is also a consent nightmare, because Damien is not aware that Gerald is intentionally provoking him. Please do not try this at home.

Day 2 - Theme Chosen: Choking

Gerald Tarrant wasn't above using deception to further his own interests, but he preferred evasion to direct falsehood, and he certainly wasn't in the business of lying to himself. Thus, he was well aware of why he was engaged in his current endeavour – that being, inciting yet another argument with his companion, intentionally goading the priest he'd spent the last few months travelling with into a heated debate over the fate of the little girl they'd unintentionally absorbed into their group after encountering the Terata. The part of his mind that was coolly analyzing his actions, though, was smaller than the part which was focusing on the argument itself.

Both of those part combined were smaller still than the part of his brain that was fixated on what the priest's hands would feel like closing around his throat.

“For the last vulking time, I am not just abandoning her!” The Knight's fraying patience finally snapped, and the bulkier man took a step toward the adept, his eyes blazing. He was only letting go this much because Jenseny was well away from the cave that was currently their refuge, gathering sticks with Hesseth to make a fire; the rakh-woman had sensed the building tension, and had deliberately taken the girl out of the way so that the two men in the group could clear the air.

“I don't care if you think it would be easier, I promised to keep her safe -”

His hands were clenched into fists at his side, the force of his indignation expressed through the whitening of his knuckles, the corded tension in his arms as he held himself back from violence. Gerald fired back a retort on autopilot during an appropriate pause in the priest's rant, his own manner cool and detached, his mask of indifference firmly in place despite his mental preoccupation. God, the strength in this man – Damien Vryce was a fighter, and the proof of that was in every line of his body, the broad stretch of his shoulders and the thick muscle that layered his naturally-sturdy frame. His hands were large and strong-boned, the skin tanned and weathered by years of travel, thickly calloused by the tug of leather reins and the hilts of weapons. Fae-augmented healing or not, if Vryce hit him, it would hurt. It would leave a mark, at least for a while.

It would feel real, in the way things rarely did now, isolated as he was by his own carefully crafted cocoon of power.

The words of a past lover drifted through his memory, that long-gone voice dripping with disgust. You're pathetic. So desperation for attention, you don't even care what it looks like. I could make you bleed and you'd say 'thank you', wouldn't you?

“Are you even listening to me?”

Gerald snapped back into the present moment fully, his unnaturally slow heartbeat accelerating a little as he registered the building fury in Vryce's voice. His lack of attention had been noticed, it seemed, and the priest's handsome face was turning an alarming shade of red as his temper swelled. Pride simmered in Gerald's chest at the reaction he'd provoked from the normally level-headed man, satisfaction slithering through his veins even as he replied in a deliberately bored tone.

“It's not as if you're saying anything you haven't said before, Reverend. Given the intensity of our pursuit, the girl would likely be safer out of our presence than in it. Regardless, though, it comes back to the same point; our goals are too important, we can't allow ourselves to be sidetracked by one insignificant chi-”

He read Vryce's intentions through the fae before it happened, the sudden resolve bleeding off the priest in an unmistakable wave of crimson, but his own surprise at finally eliciting such a concrete and visceral reaction kept Gerald from responding in time – not that he knew, necessarily, what response he might have tried to make. In a single smooth movement, the Knight grabbed Gerald's shoulder with one hand, shoving him forcefully backward while the other settled around Gerald's neck. As the Hunter's back slammed into the rough stone of the cave wall, Vryce pinned him there, leaning in as he snarled out his words in a voice gone guttural with rage.

“Don't you dare call her insignificant.”

The vitriolic reply he would have given in any other situation died unspoken as Gerald's usually turbulent mind went utterly, blissfully quiet, only a single line of thought remaining to him.

Yes. That's it. Do whatever you want. Hate me.

Hurt me.

Just don't let me go.

A dark and twisted lesson it might have been, but Gerald had learned one truth of human nature early in life, and had never forgotten it even as centuries passed. People were more than happy to lie and cheat their way through life, and would deceive you at every turn; you could so rarely be sure of where their real intentions, or attentions, might lie. They could talk, laugh, eat, fuck, and at every moment their thoughts could be elsewhere – but not when they wanted to hurt you. If they were that angry at you, no distractions existed.

Once you drove them over the edge enough to put their hands on you, you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Gerald tipped his head back against the unyielding stone behind him, just to feel the way Vryce's hand was clenched around his neck a little better; he didn't technically need to breathe to sustain himself, but he was reeling and lightheaded nonetheless, from the heady mixture of triumph and adrenaline pumping through his veins. A sensation of mingled horror and satisfaction, so deep it made him nauseous, made him swallow reflexively against the way his mouth flooded with saliva in response – and then swallow again, when Vryce's grip tightened on his flexing throat, strengthening the whirl of emotions in his mind until Gerald felt a very real stab of fear that he might actually faint.

All of it lasted, however, for only the briefest moment.

He could see it as the Knight came to his senses; their faces were only inches apart, wide grey eyes staring into burning hazel, and he saw the exact instant that the blind haze of fury fell away and Vryce realized how far he'd lost control. A wave of horror doused the smouldering blaze in those warm green-and-brown irises, and Vryce wrenched himself away, his hands going lax and falling back to his sides as he stared at the Hunter in horror.

“I'm – I didn't mean – hell!”

Gerald drew in a ragged breath, now bracing himself against the cave wall intentionally as his head spun; there was a vague sense of loss echoing in his mind, but far louder was the roar of victory, the greedy hunger in his chest transmuted to a throb of purring satisfaction.

Yes, I can hold you, I can draw your focus, I can make you care...

Careful this time to show nothing of the emotional tempest in his mind, Gerald lifted one hand to rub lightly at his no-doubt-bruising neck, casting the Knight a sardonic glance.

“Don't flatter yourself, Reverend,” he muttered, with a icy steadiness that he most certainly did not feel. “I assure you, if I felt you posed a genuine threat, you would never have gotten that close to me. You couldn't truly hurt me if you tried.”

At least, not when I can make you look at me with that much fire in your eyes...

Vryce seemed to have registered his words as the subtle threat Gerald had meant them to be taken for, though, if the priest's thoroughly shaken expression was anything to go by. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated for a long moment, looking deeply conflicted and vaguely sick. Finally, he shook his head sharply, and bit out a curt few words.

“It won't happen again.”

With that proffered statement – surely meant to be reassuring, or perhaps pacifying, for no doubt he assumed the Hunter was furious about Vryce's presumption in laying hands on him – the priest turned and strode hastily out of the cave. Gerald stayed where he was, hands splayed out against the cold rock behind him, feeling his pulse beating forcefully in his throat as he closed his eyes.

Oh yes, it will. If that's the only way I can have your hands on me, I'll make sure it does.

#whumptober2021 #no.2 #Choking #coldfire trilogy #fic #masochism #self destructive behaviour #nsfwhump #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

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your-iron-lung · 6 years

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No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 3

AKA ‘Trouble Comes Knocking’; also readable on AO3

my exwife was supposed to beta this for me but shes taking too long and i am an impatient person so im posting it early lol

Story Synopsis: Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 3511

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2,

Next Chapter: 4

Home and tucked into his bed with no memory of how he got there, Steve dreamt of queer things he didn’t understand. Blurry, dark images swarmed his subconscious like a great, malevolent storm bearing down on him too quickly for him to escape. His dreams had him running through the woods, avoiding the shadowed areas between the trees where huge, narrow maws erupted from the blackness, showing off fangs that were long and drawn into needle points, eager to draw blood.

The dreams plagued him for a week, replacing the threat that came with the usual monsters he’d come to be familiar with in his sleep. He’d faced the things with teeth-lined flower bulbs for heads and survived, but now whatever it was that was hunting him down in his thoughts was unknown, and the fear of that unknown was what woke him up every night that week, leaving him a trembling, sweat-soaked wreck who couldn’t comprehend the level of terror he was feeling.

There was, at least, some sort of reprieve from the torment his psyche was undergoing. On the days he went to school, Billy avoided him vehemently, not even trying to go out of his way to talk shit or start a fight. In fact, it seemed that he was actually going out of his way to avoid him now.

Whatever had happened at the party had turned him off from Steve Harrington for the time being, and for that at least Steve was thankful. Something good had come from that miserable night, and if he were lucky, maybe it would last a lifetime. Billy probably assumed he was crazy (and wasn’t that the prime example of the pot calling the kettle black?) after witnessing his episode, and maybe he was, but every time he thought about it his hand began to throb painfully, as though it really had been injured. There were still no marks, though; not a single indicator of any kind that his hand had been harmed in any way.

It made no sense, and he didn’t know what to do about that.

Who did he have to talk to that would believe him if he opened up about what he’d seen that night by the fire? Or of the thing that he’d seen skulking about in the woods like some sort of horrible, jittering animatronic that someone had let loose to terrorize him? Would anyone even believe him if he did say anything? Billy certainly hadn’t, and he’d been a first-hand witness.

He groaned into his hands, letting his head fall forward onto the steering wheel of his car where he sat in the parking lot, too lethargic to leave the school yet. Those stupid weekend parties were supposed to have been an escape, but now he found that they had become the primary source of his stress.

Earlier in the day, Steve had found another one of those mysterious notes slipped into his locker. On it was another map and address, and he’d had half a mind to rip it up then and there before he’d flipped it over out of bitter curiosity.

There, instead of the ‘+0’ that had usually been marked on the card, was a ‘+1’ instead. The change was the only reason he hadn’t torn it to pieces.

“What is happening to me,” he whined, dragging his fingers down his face, pulling at the baggy, discoloured skin beneath his eyes. “What the hell does any of this mean?!” he cried out to no one.

He’d have to track down whoever it was that was leaving the invitations in his locker to get any kind of information. Someone from school was leaving them for him, even if that person wasn’t showing up at the parties, which raised the question of ‘why’ again. Why wasn’t whoever was inviting him going? Why was it just Billy and Steve that were invited, and no one else from their school? Why, why, why?

There were no answers, and no way for him to get any.

Groaning with frustration, he sat up straight in his seat, letting his hands fall away from his face. He stared out of the windshield with a blank expression on his face when he caught sight of Billy walking towards his Camaro across the parking lot. Looking at him made him frown.

Maybe… what if it was Billy leaving him the notes? Could all this shit be some sort of elaborate long-term prank he’d concocted just to fuck with Steve on a psychological level?

As if Billy could sense that Steve was thinking about him, he paused mid-stride and turned to face him. They made eye contact briefly, and in that moment Steve knew Billy couldn’t possibly be behind it all. It was far too elaborate for someone as brash as he was, and his reaction upon seeing Steve freak out hadn’t been one of victory, but was rather one of apprehension. If Billy had been the mastermind behind it all, he would have gotten what he’d wanted and celebrated that, but he hadn’t. It was beyond Steve and Billy both; the other boy had just been coming along for the free drinks.

Caught up in his thoughts, Steve hadn’t realized Billy was walking towards him until he knocked on the window, rapping his knuckles sharply against the glass.

He jumped in his seat at the noise, turning his wide, brown eyes up to Billy who had a deep frown locked on his face. Pointing with his finger, he gestured for Steve to roll down the window.

“What do you want?” Steve asked as he cracked the window, doing his best to sound annoyed despite how tired he felt.

“What do you think?” Billy retorted smartly, rolling his eyes. He glanced around the parking lot to see if anyone was looking their way before he leaned down low, resting an arm along the frame of Steve’s car to speak quietly. “I didn’t get another invite, did you?”

“You didn’t?”

The surprise Steve felt must have been blatantly plastered across his face, for Billy’s lips twitched into a grimace when he spoke.

“No.”

Steve sat still for a moment, studying the passive look of muted anger on Billy’s face before he thought he ought to show him the note. He pulled his school bag that had been in his passenger seat over into his lap and began digging through it, looking for the invitation. His fingers brushed past his notebooks, pens, and other loose items before they finally felt the stiff cardstock the note had been made of.

As he pulled it out, Billy’s frown deepened.

“Why the fuck did you get reinvited?” Scowling fiercely, he stood up and took out his pack of cigarettes, placing one between his snarling teeth. “I bet it was that faggot on the guitar. Told whoever’s running that shit show not to bring me back.”

“Whoa, language, man,” Steve said disapprovingly.

Billy narrowed his eyes as he lit his cigarette, running his tongue along his teeth before leaning back down. “Let me see it.”

Something about the borderline manic look that Billy held in his eye made Steve hesitate, fingering the card in his hands uncertainly. He wanted to roll up the window and keep the invitation to himself, even if he had no interest in attending, and he definitely didn’t want Billy going in his stead.

All the same, he gave the card over when Billy reached in for it.

A dark look overtook Billy’s face as he studied the card, mouth moving as he silently read and memorized the address. Steve watched him quietly as Billy flipped it over, and saw the look of confusion that spread into his eyes when he saw what was printed there.

“The fuck is this?” he asked, holding up the back of the card that read ‘+1’ so that Steve could see it.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied honestly. “All the others I got had ‘+0’ on the back.”

Billy flipped the invitation back around so he could read it again. A look of concentration overtook the anger that he usually held there briefly as he contemplated its meaning.

“It kinda looks like the shit Susan sent out when she married my dad; mailed out their wedding invitations with how many guests the person invited could bring,” he explained, turning the card over in his hands contemplatively. “Like, y’know, their plus one or something.”

“Huh.” Steve hummed, realizing that that actually made some sense. It was kind of obvious, now that he thought about it.

“Congratulations Harrington, you get the honor of taking me to the party with you,” Billy said then, flicking the card back at him through the opening in the window.

“So, what, you’re like my date now?” Steve snorted, chuckling a bit, amused at the notion. He grabbed the card from where it had settled on his dashboard. “Why Billy, if you wanted me to take you out, all you had to do was ask.”

The fear he’d felt throughout the week in his dreams was trying to resurface in his stomach at the thought of attending another one of the forest gatherings, despite how nonchalant he was acting. He swallowed it back and tried to ignore it as it crept its way throughout his body, circulating through his bloodstream in a steady, repeating current.

Billy sneered at him as he spoke. “Yeah, I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you, Harrington?”

“Well, tough, because I’m not going,” Steve said, dropping the humor in his voice and averting his gaze. He shoved the card back into the deep dredges of his book bag and slung it back into the passenger seat forcefully, as though it were prone to attacking him.

“What, you have one bad trip and that’s it? You’re done?” Billy scoffed and put a hand on his hip, staring down at him with a taunting grin. He blew out a stream of smoke that mixed in with the wind and blew away almost instantly. “Thought ‘King Steve’ was supposed to have been a real party animal; not the one and done kinda guy.”

“But these aren’t normal parties!” he blurted out, banging his fists into the steering wheel in frustration. He barely missed hitting the horn. “There’s something wrong about them!”

“The only thing wrong about them was how you freaked out over nothing,” Billy drawled, looking around the parking lot again to make sure no one was paying attention to them as Steve raised his voice. For some reason, the fact that Billy was concerned about who might have been watching them pissed Steve off. “Whatever you think attacked you was all in that fucked up, pretty little head of yours.”

Steve groaned and let his head fall back against the headrest of his seat. There he let it roll towards Billy so he could fix him with an even glare. “There is something bigger going on out there. How else would you explain all the secrecy? Nobody else knows anything about them.”

A group of girls walked by them, greeting Billy energetically as they passed. He turned away briefly to entertain them with a smile, and when he redirected his attention back to Steve he found that he had turned away to stare angrily out his windshield. He looked tired, with deep, purple bags drooping under his eyes. Whether Billy believed him or not, it was obvious that whatever Steve thought he’d seen at the party last week was affecting him terribly.

“Fine, say there is something weird going on at those shitty little hick cult parties,” Billy relented, recapturing Steve’s attention. “Only one way to be sure of that, Princess, and I think you know what that means.”

Steve moaned and shut his eyes. “Why are you so desperate to go? Do you seriously have nothing better to do? Something a little more your speed, maybe?”

Billy didn’t answer him; merely stared him down with a hard, steely gaze that made Steve sigh and look away.

“Alright, fine. If it’ll prove that something shady’s going on out there, then fuck it, fine,” Steve said, gesturing about with his hands as he spoke. “I’ll take you out if that’s what you want, Hargrove, since you seem so desperate to go.”

“Great.” Billy’s face lost its hardness as he broke out into a grin and slapped his hand down onto the roof of the BMW loudly, ignoring the implication behind Steve’s words. “Don’t be late, Harrington, and get some sleep; lookin’ a little rough around the edges there, pretty boy.”

He walked away before Steve could say anything else, hips swaying as he made his way over to his Camaro where his sister was waiting for him.

It was snowing freely on the night of the party, coming down in a mild torrent that likely would have closed the roads had they not already been salted in advance. He drove slowly on the backroads, navigating through streets he’d never been to before in a part of town that looked largely uninhabited. The few houses that he saw didn’t have any lights on, and the road was, for the most part, as dark as the forests he’d been dreaming of. The natural light from the full moon coupled with his headlights were all he had to work with as he rode on.

His windshield wipers thunked back and forth rapidly, deflecting the falling snow faster than it could settle. He made sure to keep the BMW traveling well under the speed limit, keeping a careful eye on the road as he traveled. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Billy had ever driven in the snow before. There was no way in hell he’d make it if he drove the way he usually did.

Maybe that would be for the best, though, Steve thought. No more Billy, no more parties, no more problems.

A strong gust of wind blew past, rattling his car. The BMW swerved a bit before he strengthened his grip over the wheel, righting his car in its lane. The back country roads had been salted this time at least as opposed to the last time he’d ridden them, but they were still slick enough that one wrong move could have him sliding off if he wasn’t careful. He dropped his speed a little bit more and was driving past a cow pasture when he first smelled something strange.

Initially, he wrote it off as some byproduct of cold cow shit, but as he sniffed the air creeping in through his air vents, he realized he hadn’t smelled anything quite like it before. It was entirely unpleasant, and reminded him of the time his mother had gotten sick with the flu and his dad had made him care for her. The stuffiness of her bedroom that she’d been holed up in for a few days coupled with her illness had been staggering, and was similar to what he was smelling now.

Coming in with the warm air, it smelled of stale beer and sickness; a combination that had him wrinkling his nose in disgust. He sped back up, trying to get through whatever fetid cow pasture he’d been driving by as quickly as he could possibly manage in an effort to escape it.

As he rounded a curve the smell dissipated somewhat, easing the slight bout of nausea it had caused when he’d initially smelled it. He relaxed his shoulders, unaware that they’d been tensed at all when the reek came back in a strong, sudden wave.

Steve gagged and almost swerved off the road, holding one of his arms up to breath through the sleeves of his shirt. It smelled so strong of sickness and rot that Steve thought the whole field of cows must have died or something. It was revolting, and he almost began dry heaving as the road curved and he came across something lying in the road.

A large, black shape was lying horizontally across the pavement, blocking nearly both lanes of traffic. He hadn’t been going fast enough to hit it, but he’d come close to doing so as he slowed the car to a stop, confusion furrowing his brow as he stared at the blockage. The falling snow made it difficult to see what it was clearly, but it looked too thin for it to have been a fallen tree.

It almost laid flat against the road, and if it hadn’t been for the light dusting of snow coating it, illustrating it as a 3D object, Steve would have been certain that it was a shadow.

A shadow like in his dreams.

Panic built up within him as quickly as a balloon filled with water, and threatened to burst just as immediately. He sat there with his headlights trained on the shape, breathing heavily out of his mouth when the sudden urge to bolt out of his car and run away overtook him. The last time he’d been this scared had been when he’d first encountered the Demogorgon, and for whatever reason as he sat there trembling, he was reminded of how it had almost killed the three of them when it burst into their world.

One hand was on his seatbelt, fumbling to get it undone before he could even think about what he was doing, the other on the door handle, ready to rip it open when he was freed of his restraint. He wanted to get to the bat in his trunk more than anything else in that moment.

His eyes never left whatever was lying there in front of him, and the longer he stared at it he realized it was a beast of some sort; too large to be a dog, but still canine-like in form. About the size of the Demogorgon, honestly, but bigger. It could have been a bear, if not for the weird proportions of its limbs.

Steve finally got the seatbelt undone and was about to run from the car when he finally caught himself in a moment of clarity.

‘What the hell are you doing, Harrington?’ Surprisingly, his voice of reason came in the form of Billy. It was unexpected, but for some reason Steve found it grounding to hear Billy’s stern voice rumble over the panicked thoughts currently running rampant in his head. ‘Gonna just ditch your rich bitch car and run out into the freezing woods like some sort of moron? Get real.’

“Get real,” he repeated, calming down a bit. He placed his hands back on the steering wheel and stared at the thing lying in the road, wondering if there was enough space for him to drive around it without getting stuck in the snow. It wasn’t moving, after all; maybe it had been hit by a car and was dead.

While it blocked the entirety of the road on his side, it only spread out about halfway into the lane of oncoming traffic. If his tires didn’t get stuck in the snow lining the shoulder, he should be able to get around it without issue. His panic, though subdued now, still threatened to become unmanageable as he put his foot gingerly on the gas, easing his car forward slowly and turning to navigate around whatever the hell was just lying there.

His heart was beating so loudly he could hear it thundering in his ears as he inched the car forward, snow piling down in a hard flurry around him. He was having a hard time breathing as he got closer and closer, his car now entirely in the left lane and almost even with the creature when it spasmed. Steve felt his heart seize up as the shadowy beast jerked spasmodically, raising its head so that it was staring in at him through the passenger window.

He heard himself start to whine, a high-pitched, desperate noise of terror as he stared back into the beast’s beady red eyes and he was sure, so, so sure that it was going to kill him if he didn’t move. He slammed on the gas as it lurched again, trying to come to a stand as Steve’s tires squealed uselessly on the slick pavement and the snowy ground before they finally caught traction and shot him forward.

The smell alone had been enough to make him sick, but his stomach began convulsing when he looked dead into the thing’s eyes. He almost threw up into his lap as he drove away, not daring to look back at what he’d seen to see if it was following him. He couldn’t control the way his whole body was shaking when he realized that he’d seen those eyes before.

The monster in the road had been the very same thing he’d seen that first night in the woods two weeks ago, and he knew now without a doubt that it was following him. That, or the parties were leading him to it, and he didn’t like the implications either way.

hi henlo it me, duke

i just wanted to say that the uh bit with the thing lying in the road was based on something that actually happened irl to my sister about two years ago. she was driving back to uni down in sc on some weird back roads late at night and she came across somethin lyin in the road like this

'It scared the hell out of me. I literally was so scared, i had never seen anything like it. It was big. Very big. It was like the size of a bear. But i knew it wasn't a bear. It was laying halfway into the left lane from the side of the road. It resembled a dog, or a large wolf. But the thing that really struck me was its bright glowing red eyes. That were looking straight ahead, so as i drove by, it looked right at me I didn't stop. and i didn't slow down. I kept going. But i was so scared. I have NEVER seen anything like that before. I almost thought i was imagining things, but those eyes stood out to me so much i knew that i saw something I have never seen it again since.'

she thinks it was somethin called a plat eye? dunno! but i asked her if i could use her spooky story in my spooky story and she said yeah lol

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy hargrove/steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington #werewolf!billy #slow burn #stranger things fanfiction

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