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andvys · 8 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 8

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, mentions of weight loss and allusions to an ED, sexual harassment (reader being cornered by a guy & mentions of Billy groping reader in the past), grab some tissues this one is sad

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: You spend one last night with Steve.

Word count: 10k

A/N: @mysticmunson thank you as always, angel. you always inspire me so much with your amazing ideas, I love u🤍 — also its mostly proofread but if there are any mistakes…. you didn’t see them!

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Steve stares at you with a mixture of hope and curiosity in his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he had seen you on his doorsteps. He knows that you aren’t here for the reasons he hopes for but his heart still holds onto that hope.

You look at him expectedly, your hands are shaking. There’s a snowflake on your eyelash, you wipe it away and blink as you look up at him.

“Y-Yeah, come inside,” he says as he moves to the side. His gaze softens when your eyes flash with uncertainty, you look behind his shoulder.

“Can’t you come outside?”

“Y/n, just come in–”

“Steven, who is it?” You hear his mom say. You hear her footsteps and see her as she walks into the hallway, her eyes widen and a smile appears on her face when her eyes meet yours.

“Y/n!” She smiles excitedly, “come on in, dear. What are you doing out there in the cold?”

You really don’t want to step inside his house but you can’t say no to her and before you can even protest, she pulls you inside and wraps her arms around you, hugging you tightly.

“It’s been so long!” Helen says. She pulls away and places her hands on your shoulders, “look at you – she’s getting more and more beautiful, isn’t she, Steve?” She turns around to face her son with a smile on her face. You look at him with narrowed eyes, he nods.

“Yes she is,” he says.

He is not making any of this easier for you.

“Come inside, we are just about to eat dinner.”

“Oh no, I don’t mean to intrude, I just wanted to–”

“I won’t accept a no and you know you could never intrude, darling,” she says, shaking her head. “Come on, we got so much catching up to do! Take your coat off.”

She looks at you expectedly, she really won’t accept a no. You can’t help but chuckle, you take your coat off and hand it to Steve who holds his hand out.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you look into his eyes.

He smiles.

You look away from him, you fix your hair and smooth down your skirt.

“That’s a beautiful skirt,” Helen gushes, she reaches for your hand and pulls you further into the house.

Steve’s heart flutters when he hears your giggle. He watches you walk into the kitchen with his mom. He can’t help but feel excitement rushing through him at the thought of spending the night with you, he knows that this won’t mean anything and deep down he knows you came to talk about something that won’t leave him with a smile on his face at the end of the night but he can’t help but hold onto the hope that you might want to give him a chance – as silly as the thought is.

He hears his dad saying your name with an excited tone in his voice, when he walks into the kitchen, he finds him hugging you.

They are never this excited to see her. Steve looks down, a feeling of self hatred blooms in his chest.

He ruined everything.

“Are you eating enough, kid? You look like you’ve lost some weight.”

Steve raises his head to look at you, you raise your brows in surprise as you stare at his dad, a nervous laugh falls from your lips.

“Dad,” Steve warns when he notices your discomfort.

His dad looks over your shoulder, waving his son off, he looks back down at you and wraps his arm around your shoulder as he leads you into the dining room.

“Helen is making Lasagna tonight, it’s still your favorite right?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re here, who else would I share all the garlic bread with.”

Another laugh falls from your lips and Steve has to close his eyes, he takes a deep breath. All this takes him back to all the Saturday dinners you have spent together.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He shakes his head and opens his eyes as he looks at the ceiling.

“It’s never too late to fix things, Steve.”

He feels a little startled by his mom’s voice.

“Sometimes it is,” Steve says. “She hates me.”

She sighs and shakes her head at him, “she wouldn’t be here if she hated you–”

“She’s here because you wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Steve mumbles, rolling his eyes. He knows that you came here to talk, not to spend a family dinner with his family.

“Yeah but she came here for you, to talk, I assume?”

Steve shrugs, he hears your voice in the dining room along with his dad’s laughter.

“Not for the reasons I’d hope.”

She raises her brows in questions, she tilts her head and leans her hand against the counter.

“What reasons were you hoping for?”

“A second chance, mom.”

“Well, you won’t get one if you don’t leave that girl of yours first,” she mumbles and reaches for the bowl of salad, pushing it in his hands and giving him a stern look, “you’re behaving like a fool, Steven.”

He closes his eyes again and clenches his jaw. He feels embarrassed.

“You know, you remind me of Harold. He was breaking hearts left and right when he was younger, then he had this amazing girlfriend and guess what he did?”

“He cheated on her,” Steve mumbles, nodding, “you told me this story a thousand times already.”

“Yeah and I’ll tell it a thousand times more. I don’t want you to end up like my brother, Steven. Look at him now, he is old and miserable and hung up on a woman who has been happily married for the past twenty years.”

“I’m not gonna end up like uncle Harold,” Steve sighs.

“You’re on the best way there.” She points her finger at him and gives him a stern look as she leans closer, “you broke that poor girl’s heart – I can see the pain in her eyes and your father is right, she lost weight, she’s not doing well.”

Worry flashes in his eyes and the guilt that has been nagging at him comes rushing back.

“I don’t want either of you to be miserable but I know that you will be if you don’t pull yourself together. She’s an amazing girl, Steve. Someday, she’s gonna try again and she’s gonna meet an amazing man who will give her everything she wants and you’ll regret letting her go.”

Steve frowns. He knows that she is right. There will be someone who will give you the things that he never could but the thought of that makes him want to throw up and break down.

The thought of you falling in love with someone else hurts him. The thought of you getting married to someone else, having kids and living that life without him makes him miserable.

He can see why his mom is so afraid of him becoming like his uncle – he will if he doesn’t make things right.

He snaps himself out of his thoughts when his mom squeezes his shoulder, “if you want her back, you gotta fight for this girl and it won’t happen overnight, Steve.”

She gives him a look of sympathy, one that he doesn’t deserve. It was him who screwed up after all.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. He turns around and walks away, stepping into the dining room, he places the salad bowl on the large table and glances at you. You’re in the living room, sitting on the couch next to his dad who is showing you his new vinyl collection. He knows that you don’t want to be here, not like this. You are probably already regretting the decision of coming here.

He sees the excited look on your face when you reach for the Fleetwood Mac Vinyl. You instantly begin to gush over the band, his dad chuckles at your excitement.

His parents might not be around a lot but you had always gotten along with them, you were the one who convinced him to stay at home for dinners on the weekends, you were the one who convinced him to spend more time with his dad when he asked him to. Steve was angry at his parents for not being around and he punished them by giving them the cold shoulder when they were at home. You changed that. His relationship with his dad is better than it ever was, thanks to you.

You have done so many good things for him.

He never did anything for you – he didn’t do any good.

As he looks at you, he notices that they are right. You did lose some weight, your face looks thinner and the circles beneath your eyes are visible even through the concealer you are wearing. He feels sick, knowing that he was the one who caused – causes you so much distress.

His dad leads you back into the dining room and Steve straightens up when your eyes lock.

“Take a seat, darling. I’ll go help Helen in the kitchen.” He says, giving you a smile before he turns around and walks back into the kitchen, leaving you and Steve alone in the dining room.

You swallow nervously and clear your throat. Fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater, you look around.

Steve stares at you, just taking in the sight of you in his house. Steve is convinced that you are the most beautiful girl in the world.

You are nervous, he can tell by the way you are bouncing your knee and playing with the loose string on your sleeve.

“Come here,” he says, gesturing to the chair that he pulls back.

You nod and walk over to him, you sit down and turn your head to look up at him. He sits down beside you. This feels like a deja vu and you don’t know how you feel about it.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you break the silence between the two of you.

“What?” He mumbles, looking at you in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t want to intrude–”

“You could never,” he says, interrupting you. Out of instinct, he places his hand over yours, causing you to freeze, he notices it right away and pulls his hand back, closing his eyes, he sighs, “I’m sorry. I’m just – I’m happy you’re here even though I know you didn’t come here for this.”

“We can talk later.”

He nods, swallowing nervously. He hopes the time will pass slowly tonight.

He notices how calm you are despite the nervousness you are showing. He doesn’t know whether it’s a good or bad sign. The last time you had been together, you ended up kicking him out with tears streaming down your face and now you are calm, peaceful and there isn’t an ounce of anger in your eyes left. What does it mean?

A bad feeling settles in the pit of his stomach, something tells him that this night won’t end well.

“Did you have a nice night?” He asks as he watches your face contort in confusion, “with Eddie, I mean.”

“Oh,” you mumble. His question takes you back to the conversation you had with Eddie, the one about him. “Yeah, we went to the diner and then watched a movie at his place.”

Steve nods, keeping his composure.

“Y-You spent the night with him?”

You know that you don’t have to answer his question, it’s none of his business but you nod anyway and look into his eyes.

“Yeah, sometimes he stays over at my place.”

His heart twists at your words. A sullen look takes over his face. He tastes that bitterness on his tongue. You say you’re just friends but he saw more than friendship between you both when you danced together but maybe it was just his jealousy that tried to make him believe that it’s more than that.

“Oh.”

“How was your night?” You ask as though you care. You don’t want to hear about his night with Nancy. “Did you have fun?”

Steve can see your clenched jaw – you are jealous.

“It was okay.” The night was horrible and he hated every second of it. He didn’t want to be with her, he wanted to be with you.

You stare at each other in silence for a long moment before you break eye contact.

“I’m gonna see if your parents need help–”

“Don’t,” Steve says as he puts his hand on the back of your chair, holding himself back from touching you this time. “You know my mom won’t let you do anything anyway.”

His parents walk into the room seconds later, glancing between the both of you. By the looks on their faces, you can tell that they have been talking about you two in the kitchen. You don’t know what to think or feel but you can’t help but wonder; do they like her?

She puts way too much food on your plate, the way she always does – she ignores your protests.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” John asks you, jokingly of course. He holds the bottle up before he pours some of it into his wife’s glass.

“John,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes. “They’re too young.”

You and Steve glance at each other with narrowed eyes. You have stolen a few bottles of his mom’s favorite wine and you’ve gotten drunk together.. a lot.

“We used to be young too.”

You chuckle at his words and at the sigh that leaves her lips as she sits down across from you, she waves him off.

You would’ve thought that this would be awkward and well, between you and Steve it absolutely is but his parents make it less awkward. It all still feels so natural and it makes you sad.

“Did you go to the dance last night?” Helen asks, reaching for the wine glass before taking a bite of her salad.

You nod, “yeah, it was uh– nice.”

“Who was the lucky guy?” John asks, he glances at Steve with narrowed eyes as he bites into the garlic bread.

Steve sighs.

“I uh, I didn’t actually–”

“Eddie Munson,” Steve mumbles as he grips the fork tightly in his hand.

His mom raises her brows at Steve, her eyes flash with amusement when she sees the very obvious jealousy on his face.

His dad laughs and for a moment, you feel nervous. The Harringtons never seemed like judgmental people, despite the things people say about them but you know how people talk about Eddie and how cursed his last name is thanks to his father.

“Wayne Munson’s boy?” He asks you.

“You know Wayne?” You ask and straighten up in your seat.

“Yeah! We were friends in high school, we didn’t have much in common but he was nice. We didn’t see much of each other after school but I liked him.”

You smile, feeling a little surprised at the revelation.

“You were friends with Eddie’s uncle?” Steve mumbles with confusion on his face that could be easily mistaken with judgment.

His dad leans back, giving him a stern look, “yeah, he was a real friend, son. You’re supposed to know what that is but you don’t put much value on real friendships – or relationships,” he mutters the last bit.

You almost feel bad for Steve, almost.

He deserves this. He deserves all of this and worse, he knows it.

“Is he treating you well?” Helen asks, breaking the awkward silence in the room, “Eddie?”

A nervous chuckle escapes your lips, you can’t help but blush when you feel all eyes on you.

“Oh, we are not dating. Eddie and I are just friends,” you say before you finally take a bite of the Lasagna, hoping that you won’t get asked any more questions about this.

“That’s a shame, I’m sure he is amazing.”

Steve glares at his dad. He feels his blood boiling.

“Oh, he is,” you smile, “he’s very sweet. He drove Steve home the other day.”

His parents look at you in surprise and then turn to look at Steve who tenses up a little.

“When his car broke down.”

Steve turns to look at you and you can’t help but smirk when you see the annoyed look on his face.

“That’s funny,” Helen laughs, “that’s how you and Wayne became friends, right?” She asks her husband who nods at her words. He begins to tell the story about the summer he and Wayne started hanging out.

You listen intently while Steve begins to eat his food. You can sense his irritation, it’s been there ever since he brought about Eddie. He relaxes a little when his mom changes the topic and starts talking about her plans for Christmas this year.

It’s weird for you to sit next to him, to sit at a table with his parents and eat dinner like nothing ever happened. At some point, Steve places his hand on the back of your chair when he is done eating. You don’t think that he realizes that he did, he is too absorbed in a conversation with his dad.

When Helen gets up, you use the opportunity to escape as well, ignoring her protests, you help her clean up the table. You gather all the plates and ignore the looks he gives you. You walk into the kitchen and place the dirty plates next to the sink, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

All you wanted was to have a conversation, to have him lay all the cards on the table, to finally be completely honest with you. You didn’t want this because this is only making things so much harder.

“Is everything alright?” Helen asks as she walks into the kitchen as well, carrying the dirty dishes over to the sink.

You force a smile on your face and turn around to face her.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You lie.

She doesn’t look convinced. She knows you almost as well as your mom does. She tilts her head and smiles at you, sadly.

“It’s okay to not be okay, y/n.”

She places her hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you into this.”

You shake your head, “no, it’s okay! You know I always liked the family dinner’s,” you smile, “and your cooking.”

She smiles warmly but the look in her eyes is one of sadness and sympathy. She knows that you love him, you always showed it and you still do, whether you know it or not. It’s in your eyes, it’s written all over your face. You may be young with a whole life and so many chapters ahead of you but one thing is for certain – there won’t be another love like this, not for you. He was the one for you.

“How are you, y/n?” She asks.

She doesn’t want to hear any lies, she wants to hear the truth.

It’s a genuine question, not just a conversation started or a small check-up. She genuinely wants to know how you really feel. You don’t know why but it makes your heart clench in your chest and the tears that well up in your eyes are inevitable.

You blink, trying to push them away. You don’t want to cry and break down in your ex boyfriend’s kitchen.

You look down when you feel your bottom lip trembling.

“I-I hate this,” you whisper as you continue to blink, hoping that your tears will vanish. “I hate that he did this, I hate that I miss him so much and that I love him even after he broke my heart.”

You feel so pathetic when you break into tears.

“Oh y/n,” she whispers as she pulls you into a hug. She squeezes you tightly and rubs your back. “You will be okay – both of you.” She says and looks over at Steve who stands in the doorway with a guilty and sad look on his face.

It hurts to see you like this, it’s something he will never forgive himself, to know that he was the one who did all of this. To know that he was the one who hurt the girl he loves more than anything else in this world.

When you pull away from the hug and your eyes lock with his, you look a little startled. You quickly wipe your tears away and step back, “I-I’m sorry, I should go.”

Before he or his mom can react, you rush out of the kitchen and into the hallway. You put on your shoes and grab your coat, leaving the house quickly. The air is colder than it was before, the snow is falling peacefully. You sniffle as you wipe your tears away. You knew it was a bad idea to come here. You knew it.

You hear the door shutting behind you as you walk down the driveway.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You don’t turn around, you continue to walk whilst you put your jacket on. You hear his footsteps coming closer, there is no use trying to run from him.

“Wait!” He sighs. He reaches for your hand and pulls you back, he is surprised when you don’t push his hand away. He falls quiet when he looks at your face, you have wiped your tears away but the glassiness in your eyes is still present. “Y/n,” he says, softly.

You hate the sorry look on his face, the soft eyes and the gentle touch of his hand.

“You wanted to talk.”

“Can we do this tomorrow–”

“No,” he shakes his head, holding your hand tighter than before, “let’s do it now, please.”

“I just wanna go home, Steve.”

“Then I’ll drive you home and we can talk in the car.”

You shake your head. You hate that you feel so weak all of the sudden, that you struggle to push his hand away, that you struggle to look away from him. You don’t know what happened but it’s like every strength has left your body and you can no longer push him away from you with that cold front you put up before.

“I want to walk.”

He nods, “okay, then I’ll walk you home.”

“Steve,” you sigh.

“Please,” he whispers, “I won’t let you walk home by yourself anyway. So you either get in the car or you let me walk you home.”

Sighing, you tear your eyes away from his and look down, you nod, “okay, let’s walk then.”

You pull your hand out of his grip and turn around.

The road is illuminated by the street lights, the snow glitters beneath it, it crunches under your boots as you step on it. You’ve done this way too many times before but usually, you would walk hand in hand, you would steal kisses from him and he would pretend to be annoyed, now there is just distance and awkward silence between you both.

At this point, you don’t even know what you wanted to talk about.

You wanted answers but what are the questions?

Why did you fall out of love with me? But wait. He said that he fell out of love with you and the next day he said that he never loved you in the first place and now, two months later, he claims that he lied to you when he said that he never loved you – apparently he still loves you even though he is with her.

Why did you leave me for her?

What does she have that I don’t?

Why did you treat me like shit?

Why are you so good to her?

Why did you fall in love with her when you were supposed to love me?

“Why Nancy?”

Steve furrows his brows and looks at you in confusion.

“What?”

“It’s just, there have been so many girls that threw themselves at you but you never gave them the chance – at least, I hoped you didn’t.”

“I didn’t, y/n.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter under your breath, “you flirted with them and expected me to be okay with it but you would get mad whenever a guy even looked my way.”

If you would have had this conversation with him three months ago, he would have scoffed by now and either start a fight or kiss you to shut you up but now, he just stays calm and he looks at you with guilt in his eyes.

She changed him in just a few weeks.

“I know that it doesn’t mean much anymore but I never wanted any of them, those girls that I flirted with, I couldn’t give a shit about them,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes at his past behavior, “and to be honest, I didn’t do it to keep my reputation or whatever. I– god, that’s gonna sound so bad,” he pauses, he looks up into the sky and takes a deep breath before he looks back down at you, “I did it to see what you would do, I wanted to see if you would get jealous ‘cause sometimes I struggled to believe that you loved me – not that you ever gave me a reason to doubt you, it’s just, some things would just get into my head and I don’t know – you never got jealous, at least, it didn’t seem like you did. You would always be so calm, you rarely ever confronted me about it a-and I guess, I don’t know, I figured that you didn’t love me as much as I love you.”

You choose to ignore his last three words. You don’t know whether to scoff in disbelief or to laugh at his words. He must be joking, you think. But his face is serious and the look in his eyes is filled with nothing but honesty.

“Why would you think that?”

He shrugs, “‘cause I knew how I felt when a guy looked at you a certain way o-or when someone flirted with you – I felt like shit. I got so fucking jealous and angry and it made me want to rip my hair out.”

You can’t help but giggle at his words as you look at the seriousness in his face, “your beloved hair?”

His eyes light up when he hears your laugh, a smile tugs at his lips, “yeah, I’d rip my hair out for you.”

You snort and shake your head as you look back down. He keeps staring at you for a moment before he speaks up again, “but what I’m trying to say is, seeing you with someone else broke my heart–”

“But I wasn’t with anyone else, I was with you and I wanted it to stay that way, Steve.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, “I was so insecure and a part of me thought that I was losing you and that hurt and I knew how much it would hurt if I actually lost you, if you left me for someone else – if you broke my heart.”

So he broke yours first.

“Do you remember the party at my place, back in august?”

“Yeah, I remember it.”

Steve clears his throat and you glance at him, a frown takes over his face.

“After I saw you dance with Eddie last night, I remembered something.”

“What did you remember?”

“We got into a fight at that party because of Billy. He was flirting with you.”

Yeah, you remember that very well. You were dancing with your friends when Billy came up behind you, he grabbed your waist and before you could react, he pressed himself up against you. He whispered something in your ear and in that moment, Steve walked back into the room with a drink in his hand. He didn’t bother sticking around to see how you had pushed Billy away or how you slapped his cheek for touching you that way.

You and Steve had gotten into a huge fight that night – one that left you both in tears. He was the one who slammed the door in your face when he pushed you out of his room after you got sick of arguing with each other.

He stayed back in his room to calm down while you went downstairs and planned to go home when you bumped into Eddie. You didn’t realize that you had tears streaming down your face until he had asked you if you were okay. He pulled you into the kitchen, away from all the prying eyes.

Eddie had given you a shoulder to lean on that night. He could have easily ignored you, you weren’t friends, not at that time, at least. But he didn’t, he was there for you. He helped you wipe your tears away, gave you something to drink and managed to cheer you up.

“After we fought, I went downstairs to look for you, I wanted to apologize but then I saw you with him, with Eddie.”

You furrow your brows, “okay, and?”

“You were laughing with him like nothing ever happened, like we didn’t just get into a fight and I think that was the moment I figured that I wasn’t the one for you – ‘cause you were happy and smiling and I was fucking miserable and I couldn’t stand it so I drank until I passed out in the bathroom. I didn’t even remember that Eddie was the one you talked to when I woke up the next day, I just remembered seeing you with some guy.”

It would be a lie if you said that you aren’t shocked. You didn’t know how insecure he was. You always saw him as arrogant, confident and controlling. Not as insecure and scared.

“And uh to get back to your question. Nancy, she’s just, I don’t know,” he trails off.

Your heart begins to beat faster at the mention of her name. It takes you back to the night it all fell apart and to the day when he had confessed to you that he fell in love with her. You remember the pain, you remember all of it.

“You promised me, you told me that you would love me forever.”

“Did you really think that I meant that?”

“I didn’t, I-I’m not even sure if I ever loved you, y/n. I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I did love you, right?”

You can already feel the tears coming, just the memory of it all hurts you. You are scared to hear him tell you why he fell in love with her. Why you weren’t enough for him.

Why is he so speechless? You wonder as you look at him. His brows are furrowed in concentration.

Are there so many things that he loves about her that he doesn’t know where to start?

While you prepare for another heartbreak, Steve tries to think of what made him believe that he could ever love someone else the way he loves you. He didn’t fall in love with her. He never fell out of love with you. You were always the one. It’s simple.

But it’s not simple, because how can he explain any of this to you without sounding like a goddamn liar?

How can he explain to you that he broke your heart because he was scared that you would break his first?

How will he tell you that he only ever thought about you?

How can he look into your eyes and tell you that it made him feel sick to kiss her, to sleep with her and tell her that he loves her when all he ever wanted was you?

“Nancy, she just, she wanted me in the same way you did. My jealousy had gotten out of hand at that point and I was convinced that I was losing you so I uh, I convinced myself that I liked her too. That night at the Halloween party, I got drunk, blackout drunk. I thought it would be easier to break up with you that way.”

His words will hurt you more than he will ever know. Just the thought of him planning to break up with you hurts so bad. While you were lying in bed thinking about him with nothing but love in your heart, he was thinking about leaving you.

And all of this because he was convinced that he was losing you?

You never gave him a reason to think that. He had all your attention, your devotion, your love, your heart. He had it all. You gave him absolutely everything. You understand the insecurities and the jealousy and a part of you wants to believe his words but the other part can’t.

He loves her.

He changed for her not for you.

And now that he has changed, he must feel guilty for the way he treated you, for the things he said to you, for the way he broke your heart. He wants to make things better, he wants to make it up to you, to take your pain away.

He said that he had to convince himself that he loved her, now he is doing the same with you.

You are not angry at him, not anymore.

You are just hurt and heartbroken.

You love him and you always will.

Suddenly, you feel numb when you realize that he is still with her.

If he loves you then why is he still with her?

It was easy for him to leave you.

“Y/n?”

You hate this feeling. The numbness. You want it gone.

“Hey, y/n.” Steve says softly as he places his hand on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blink and halt in your tracks, you were so wrapped up in your mind, you didn’t even notice that you were already in front of your house.You look at his hand before you look up at him. His hazel eyes are filled with worry.

“Are you okay?”

No. Of course you are not okay.

Your attention strays away from him when you hear the loud music from the house down the street. Jimmy Davidson is home for the holidays, his parents are gone this weekend, he already invited you to his ‘pre christmas party’.

An idea crosses your mind, you will probably come to regret it but right now, you don’t care.

“Hey, do you remember Jimmy, you know that super intimidating looking guy who’s actually really nice?”

Steve looks confused, his eyebrows are drawn together and he tilts his head at your question.

“Uh yeah, he was on the football team– why are we talking about him again?”

You hold your hand up and point your finger into the direction of his house, “he’s throwing a party, do you wanna go?”

He looks taken aback and still confused. You want to go to a party with him?

“I need a drink,” you mumble, “or two.”

Steve doesn’t know if that is a good idea and he doesn’t understand how you went from hating him to wanting a conversation with him to wanting to party with him but it’s not like he would say no to you. He will take any opportunity to spend time with you these days.

He looks down at you. You are waiting for him to say something. You have that look in your eyes that he always loved so much, the one you gave him when you wanted something.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He wishes he could see the smile that you used to give him but instead he gets a nod before you turn around. He follows you, suddenly feeling the giddiness that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He is excited to spend time with you.

Two nights ago, he got drunk at a bar, thinking that he lost you forever. Now you are walking down the street together, your hand brushes against his and he fights the urge to just grab it.

While Steve feels hopeful, thinking that this could lead to a second chance. You feel sad because you know that this will be the last time.

You keep telling yourself that you have let go of him but you haven’t fully let go. You don’t just miss him as your boyfriend, you also miss him as your friend.

The music in Jimmy’s house is loud, you are surprised that the cops haven’t been called yet. The smell of liquor is strong. The hallway is crowded with groups of teenagers, you take a peek into the living room, it’s even more crowded. Jimmy kept his popularity going, even after leaving Hawkins for college.

You and Steve take your jackets off, he takes yours from your hand and hangs it up on the rack. You pull at your sleeves and step closer to him without realizing it.

“Yo, y/n!”

You turn your head to see Jimmy walking towards you and Steve, a red solo cup is in his hand. You can’t help but laugh when you see the ugly Christmas sweater and the Santa hat that he is wearing. He really stuck to the theme.

His eyes flash with surprise when he sees Steve.

“Harrington! Long time no see, man! How’s it going?” He asks and greets him with a handshake.

Steve smiles, “hey man.”

“I didn’t know you were still together,” he says as he points between the two of you.

“Oh, we aren’t–”

“Jimmy! Let’s go, man!” Some guy yells, waving him over, “I’m losing here!” He throws his hands up as he holds the ping pong in his hand.

“I’m coming!” Jimmy yells back causing you to cringe at the volume of his voice. He turns back to you, “get yourself some drinks, guys. We’ll catch up later!” He says to Steve before he looks at you and winks, “don’t have too much fun, lovebirds.”

Steve scratches the back of his neck while you roll your eyes.

You look at each other awkwardly at first but when another guy with a similar Christmas sweater as Jimmy walks past you, you can’t help but laugh as you share a glance.

You make your way into the kitchen. Steve follows close behind. You both notice the few curious glances that get thrown your way. You don’t recognize many people but there are definitely a few from Hawkins High around. You just hope that Heather and Chrissy aren’t here tonight.

Steve places his hand on the small of your back when you both walk into the kitchen. Your eyes land on the bottle on the counter, you instantly reach for the tequila bottle but before you can even think about pouring it into one of the small solo cups, Steve grabs your hand, stopping you.

Furrowing your brows, you look up at him.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “we can just, I don’t know, we can just forget everything for tonight.”

Steve is surprised to hear these words coming from your mouth.

“We can just have fun, just like old times, when we were friends.”

He can hear the shakiness in your voice, he can see the vulnerability in your eyes that you have been hiding all this time. You were pretending to be okay after the breakup, you gave him the cold shoulder and acted like you moved on but you never did, he realized that after he tried to kiss you.

You never moved on and you are not as strong as you pretend to be. You are breaking a little more, everyday.

Just one last time. You think to yourself as you look into his eyes.

He nods, “yeah, okay.”

He reaches for the bottle in your hand, he grabs the cups and fills them with tequila. You both down the liquid in one go, cringing at the strong taste. Steve wipes his mouth, “god, that’s disgusting,” he mumbles.

You nod in agreement but reach for the bottle nonetheless, ignoring his disapproving look when you fill the cups again.

“You should take it slow–”

You shake your head, “no, I wanna get drunk.”

“Jesus,” he mumbles, knowing that you want to get rid of this awkwardness between the two of you by getting alcohol into your system. “Okay.” This isn’t a good idea, he knows it isn’t. This will only complicate things even more, yet he joins you and downs the second one as well.

You look into his eyes, it’s something you have always avoided since the breakup but now you look at him, you truly look at him and you get lost in his eyes. You feel the ache in your chest, the one that will never fade away.

You will never know how much he regrets it, how guilty he feels when he sees the pain in your eyes, the love that is still there. How could he be so stupid? How could he ever think that you would hurt him?

If he could turn back time, this would have never happened.

He could’ve pulled you into his arms right now, he would’ve kissed you and told you that he loves you.

You look down and lick your lips, you place the cup on the counter.

The house is filled with people, you hear different voices, laughter and loud music. You notice the stares and the curious glances. You feel someone brushing past you. Yet, it’s just you and him, right now.

“Come on,” he says as he holds his hand out for you, “let’s dance, like old times, right?”

You stare at his hand for a long moment before you decide to take it.

You don’t know how happy he is to feel your touch.

He doesn’t know how painful it is to you.

He leads you out of the kitchen, keeping a tight grip on your hand. He greets a few people from school, waving and smiling at some guys. You are just focused on his touch and the way it’s making you feel.

The way it makes your heartbeat speed up and the way it makes it hurt so horribly at the same time.

“Hey Steve, y/n!”

You both turn around, a guy from the basketball team is waving at you, “wanna play beer pong?”

Steve looks down at you and you shrug, “sure.”

It seems as though this night is full of bad ideas. First, you ended up on his doorsteps after telling him to leave you alone, then, you asked him to go to a party with you and now you are about to get plastered with the guy you shouldn’t even look at anymore.

But if there is anything that will kill this awkward tension between you two then it’s a game of beer pong and the two drunk jocks with the Santa hats.

The dining room is filled with people, just like the rest of the house. It smells like weed and beer in here – you could use some weed right now.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as he leans closer. The smell of his cologne drives you insane.

He scans your face, he looks into your eyes and eyes the line between your eyebrows, he notes the tension, he wants to take it away so bad. A strand of hair falls in front of your face and before he can stop himself, he reaches out to tuck it behind your ear. You don’t move away, not this time.

You feel so stupid, so weak and pathetic for savoring the touch of the man who hurt you so badly.

The tension, the bad thoughts and the worries leave your mind after winning the first round of beer pong.

A few drinks in and all your sadness and the heartbreak is forgotten, temporarily.

Both of you forget everything.

Tonight, it’s just the two of you.

You both get drunker and drunker and more comfortable with each other with each round you win.

By the time you actually make it to the dance floor, you are both wasted. Stumbling and bumping into each other. Though you still keep the distance between you two. Your hands brush against each other and he ends up taking the risk and hooking his pinky around yours which you don’t seem to mind.

Steve feels the urge to do more, to wrap his arms around you and hold you. His heart longs for you, all of him longs for you. He gets so lost in your eyes, in you. He doesn’t notice anything around him, he only sees you.

You joke around like you used to, you hold onto each other like you used to, you smile and laugh and for the first time in a long time, you are both happy.

And of course, Billy Hargrove is the one who sees you two together. He smirks when he sees the way Steve looks at you, when he notices his hand sliding down your body, stopping just on the small of your back to pull you closer and to his surprise, you don’t even seem to mind. You must be drunk or on drugs, Billy thinks. There is no way you would let him touch you that way otherwise.

“Well, well, well.”

Billy raises his brows and glances down at the redhead by his side.

“Looks like the queen and king are back together.”

“Oh no, he is still with Nancy. They're sneaking around,” Tommy says as he leans against the wall next to him.

“Well what do they say about cheaters?” Carol smirks as she looks at the way Steve leans closer to you to whisper something in your ear.

“Once a cheater, always a cheater,” Tommy chuckles.

Billy takes a sip of his beer and shakes his head, “I thought she’s smarter than that.”

Carol and Tommy laugh at his words, “what’d you expect? She was always in love with him.”

“Yeah, poor little thing always followed him around like some lost puppy,” Carol mocks, twirling her hair with her finger. “I wish Nancy was here so she could see this,” she smirks as she watches Steve lead you away.

Steve plops down on the sofa and pulls you down with him. You lean your shoulder against his. Your head is spinning and your mouth feels dry.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” Steve says, he looks down at you. A fond expression takes over his face. Your hair is messy and your pupils are blown, you are breathing heavily, a small smile is pulling at your lips when you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“Me neither.”

Steve smiles at you. His hand brushes against yours, the feeling of your skin against his makes his heart flutter in his chest. When he goes to wrap his hand around yours, to intertwine his fingers with yours, you seem to snap out of your trance. You break eye contact and cough as you straighten up.

Something about the way he looked at you made you sober up a little.

“I-I’m gonna go drink some water,” you mutter and push yourself up, “do you want something?”

He shakes his head.

He knows better than to follow you, he knows when you need space and right now, you need it, even if just for a moment. He watches you walk away, smiling when you look over your shoulder to glance at him.

He leans back against the soft cushions and looks around the crowded room. Right now, he feels content. You were an unexpected surprise this evening and he can’t help but bask in the feeling of being with you again.

Three nights ago, he thought he lost you forever but here you are, back with him.

Though he can’t shake the feeling that something is off about this night, he chooses to ignore it, not wanting to ruin it sooner than necessary.

A few minutes pass and there is no sight of you, he runs his fingers through his messy hair. He leans his elbows on his knees and looks around. He stares at the doorway, waiting for you to come through but you don’t.

He gets up and his stomach churns a little. He definitely drank way too much.

He pushes past a group of drunken boys and steps into the crowded hallway. A couple is making out against the wall, a girl is crying to her friends, a group of jocks are sitting on the stairs, laughing loudly.

He walks into the kitchen, the sight he is met with makes him freeze on the spot. You are standing with your back pressed against the kitchen island, a guy is towering over you. He is much taller than you, his shoulders are broad, it’s clear that he is working out.

His first reaction is to tense up and clench his jaw in anger. The sight of him smirking down at you makes his blood boil.

He sobers up quickly when he notices how tense you are, how your hands grip the counter tightly as you press yourself further against the counter to get away from him. You are uncomfortable and flinch away when he reaches out to touch your face.

All the jealousy fades away and anger takes over instead. He doesn’t hesitate to walk over and push the guy away from you. Your eyes are wide and filled with fear, you look at Steve and he instantly grabs your hand and pushes you behind him.

“Stay away from my girl.” He spits without even thinking.

The guy looks startled at first but he quickly relaxes and laughs. He looks Steve up and down before his attention goes back to you.

“Shit, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

Steve can feel how scared you are, you grip his hand tightly with your shaky one and it only makes his anger worse.

“Even if she didn’t, you had no right to touch her like that, you fucking asshole.”

Your heartbeat picks up, fear rushes through you. You always hated when he got into fights.

The guy still looks at you, he eyes you up and down and it makes you shudder. It’s not the first time he��d done it.

“Steve.”

Steve is glaring at the guy in front of him, the urge to throw a punch is strong – a few months ago, he would’ve done it but protecting you and making sure that you feel comfortable is more important to him now.

“Sorry man, won’t happen again” he says but there is clearly no meaning behind his words, he chuckles and gives you both a mocking smile before he turns around to leave.

Steve takes a step forward to follow him but you pull him back, “please don’t.” You hold his hand even tighter and step in front of him.You are sober now and so is he. The night is over, almost. His hazel eyes are darker than usual, he looks mad. “Can we just go, please? I wanna go home.”

Your words and the panicked look on your face take him back to the night at the Halloween party – the way you begged for him to go home with you not knowing that moments later, he would break your heart.

You wear that same look on your face you did that night.

His eyes soften and his shoulders slump. He is not ready for this night to end but he nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He keeps on holding your hand and you don’t fight him. Your hand is still shaky. You are nervous and scared.

He only lets your hand go to help you put on your coat. You open the door and step out with your hands tucked in your pockets. His face falls a little but he doesn’t say anything. He follows you out and puts his jacket on once he’s outside. He shuts the door and just like that, it’s all back to the way it was before.

But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want things to go back to the way they were before. He wants to keep you but he feels you slipping through his fingers just like you felt him slipping through your fingers, two months ago.

The snow is falling quietly and as you get further away from the party, you can hear the music less and less, only the silence of the night and your footsteps are heard.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay after what happened in there?” He asks, “h-he didn’t do worse did he?”

“Oh,” you whisper and shake your head, “no – I mean, yes I’m okay and no, he didn’t do worse. I’m kinda used to it, it’s not the first time he did this.”

“Wait what?” He asks as the anger comes rushing back in.

You shrug, a sour expression appears on your face, “I mean, I haven’t seen him since Heather’s party back in september–”

“Back in– what? Y/n, that’s when we were still together! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you mumble, “you were always focused on those girls and picking fights about stuff that wasn’t real so..”

He feels a flash of irritation and anger but also guilt and sadness. He made you think that he didn’t care about your safety and your wellbeing.

“Of course, I’d care.”

He hates the shift of energy between you two. He wants to go back to the party, he wants to live inside that bubble again, the one where you still like him.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” He whispers knowing that you might not want to hear his apology. “I failed you, I failed us.” He thinks about his mother’s words, how she told him to fight for you and he wants to so bad but he doesn’t know how.

You stop in front of your house, the moment you have been dreading all night is finally here.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, “I’m not angry at you anymore.”

You look at the way his expression changes.

“You’re not?”

By the tone of his voice, you know that he thinks that this must be a good sign.

You shake your head. The bile thickens in your throat and you already feel sick.

“No, I’m not.”

You are calm, your voice is soft and quiet and the look in your eyes makes him nervous. He stays silent for a moment. You stand beneath the night sky, the snow is falling and it reminds him of the night you have kissed for the first time, right here.

“I-I understand it now.”

He doesn’t know why but he can feel the fear rushing through him, that pit growing in his stomach.

“What do you understand?”

“Everything,” you whisper, “I wanted the truth and the other day you said that you weren't honest with me back then but you were. You really did leave me because you fell in love with her just like you had told me back then.”

He frowns at your words, he steps closer to you and he shakes his head.

Your eyes well up with tears, your bottom lip begins to quiver.

“And I-I think that you really love her because you wouldn’t have left me if you didn’t – no matter how scared you are, you don’t leave the person that you love for someone else, you don’t hurt the person you love. You would rather have your heart broken than break their heart,” you say as tears stream down your cheeks, “it was so easy for you to leave me but you can’t leave her, you are still with her because you can’t and you don't want to break her heart so that must mean something."

He shakes his head, “no,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, brokenly. You look down and the tears slip from your face and down into the snow, “you changed a-and I can tell that you are trying to do better and that you want to make it up to me b-but I don’t want it, I don’t want you to think that you owe me anything. I-I just want you to know that it’s okay. You don’t have to feel bad or guilty.”

He shakes his head again but he can’t form any words. His heart is racing in his chest, the fear is holding him tightly. His vision blurs, he can’t stand to see you cry.

“I love you, Steve and I think that I always will but we have to let each other go.”

His eyes widen with panic and he finally snaps out of it, he cups your cheeks and pulls you closer, “I love you too, y/n! I love you. I will leave her, I will!”

You shake your head, you raise your hands and grab his wrists as you look into his eyes.

You are both crying and it hurts so bad. It feels like your heart is being ripped apart.

“She is the one for you. You should be with her. I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

Steve wants to say that you make him happy, that you are the one for him, that you are the one he loves but his words are strangled in his throat. Tears roll down his cheeks and his chest aches. He can see the pain in your eyes and the way you are suffering because of him.

He shakes his head, he is shaking, he is on the verge of breaking down, of falling to his knees and begging for a second chance. He leans his forehead against yours. He whispers your name so brokenly it makes you cry even harder.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper and cup his cheeks, “I promise, it’s okay.”

He feels the warmth of your touch and the sound of your voice that makes his heart ache. He doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to let you go, he doesn’t want to lose you.

“You can let me go, it’s okay. You don’t have to feel bad anymore.”

Steve feels like his chest is being ripped open, like his heart is getting torn out of his body.

You wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his chest, wanting to feel the warmth of his body, one last time. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you even tighter against him. He holds onto you for dear life, he buries his face in your neck, he breathes in your sweet scent.

Your broken heart is breaking more and more.

You close your eyes and you let yourself feel him, one last time.

You wish you wouldn’t have to do this.

You wish you could live in a world where he loves you, where you wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

You thought that it couldn’t get any worse after he dumped you and after he tried to kiss you but this is so much worse.

This is goodbye.

You stand beneath the falling snow just this time, he won’t pull you in for a first kiss, he won’t make you smile, he won’t pull you back for one more kiss before you walk into your house but he pulls you in for another hug when you try to walk away from him and this time, he holds you even tighter.

He wants to fight for you but how can he when you don’t want him to?

It hurts to hear him cry and it hurts to feel him hold you so tightly and it will hurt even more when you will see him with her again.

As much as it hurts, as much as you don’t want it, as wrong as it feels – you step away from him and you look at him, one last time. You can’t stand the tears that run down his cheeks. His large sad eyes will haunt you for the rest of your life.

You step away from him and it makes him cry even harder.

You have to go.

You need to go.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

He looks crestfallen and broken and it takes everything in you to turn away from him. You clutch your chest and walk away. You can hear his sniffles and before your heart can convince you to turn back around, you unlock the door and step inside. You shut it and press your back against the door. Finally, you let the sob break free as you fall to the ground. You bury your face in your hands and you cry, once again.

Now it’s truly over.

It’s all over and you don't even know that you are the one who is still holding his heart.

That you will always be the one.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @taintedcigs @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things angst

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imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend · 9 months

Text

Penny For Your Thoughts

Pairing: Billy Russo x F!Reader

I saw this gif and got super horny for Billy again, so this is what happened. You can also blame @becauseicantthinkwritings, @frying-panties, @dreadfulxives18 for encouraging me 😜

Warnings: 18+, minors do NOT interact, smut, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, super dirty talk, use of pet names (darling, baby), Sugar Daddy!Billy vibes, oral (M receiving), PIV, reader has multiple orgasms, creampie

“Darling, my leg’s falling asleep.”

You pouted, not that he could see, and snuggled your face further into Billy’s neck. You were sitting on his lap, with your butt mostly on one of his thighs, cuddling up to his chest. He was still dressed in a full suit and had merely sat down on the couch for a drink, but you’d crawled onto his lap. You needed to feel his warmth, smell his cologne, and just be close to him.

You’d been lonely without him, spending the day feeling empty after waking up with his cock inside you. He’d left you blissed out, cum seeping between your legs. He wanted to clean you up, but he was late for work, and you assured him that you could clean yourself up.

The sound of Billy setting his glass down shook you from your memory. “Darling,” he said again. He ran his hand through your hair and pulled on it slightly.

You let him pull your head back so he could look at your face.

“Hi, Billy.” You said. You hadn’t even spoken since he’d gotten back. You just needed to feel him.

He smiled gently. “Hi, baby. I need you to get off my lap. I can’t feel my toes.” He let go of your hair and smoothed it back in place.

“Kiss first?” You bargained.

Billy grinned. “For you, of course.” He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

You pouted as he pulled away.

“What’s that face?” he asked. He knew what it was, though.

“Nothin’,” you said, knowing better than to push him.

You got off his lap and slid to the floor instead, resting your chin on the knee of his other leg as he stretched out the one you’d been sitting on.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, looking up at his pensive face.

“Just thinking about my day.” He rubbed a hand over his beard.

“How was work?” You asked.

Billy shrugged. “It was hard to focus, with the image of my cum leaking out of your little cunt constantly flashing through my head.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but more pertinently, you felt arousal pool between your legs. You bit your lip for a moment, before you released it. “Maybe that’s something you need to see again.”

A beautiful, sexy smirk took over Billy’s lips. “Oh? You think that’ll help?”

“Maybe. Or maybe you need your cock in my mouth?” You trailed a hand up his leg and over his groin, which was starting to grow hard.

He grunted at your touch. “Maybe I need both.”

“Maybe you’ll get both, if you ask nicely.” You batted your eyelashes.

Billy’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I ain’t nice, though.”

“Yes, you are.” You disagreed. You continued rubbing your hand along the outline of his cock over his trousers. “You bought me those shoes I really wanted last week, even though they were full price.”

“They weren’t that expensive.” He grunted.

“They were two grand.” You scoffed.

“Pennies.” Billy quipped.

“You wanted to take care of me this morning. Almost made you late for work.” You said, still trying to tell him that he was nice.

“Well, had to do something for the excellent pussy I got.” He drawled.

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, you’re quite nice to me. You’ll never change my mind.” You said. Despite your many attempts to refuse him, Billy had been very generous to you. All the money he’d given so far had been used – in addition for pleasurable items like a new phone, or non-necessities like those designer shoes – for student loans, medical bills, and even your rent before you’d moved in with him.

You unbuttoned his pants and did your best to free his cock, but he ended up lifting his hips so he could pull his trousers and underwear down his legs instead. You pumped him a few times in your hand as you gathered some saliva in your mouth, before you let it dribble out onto his cock.

“Fuck,” Billy said.

You then lowered your head and took him in your mouth, moving your head down until your nose touched his skin. You let his cock tickle the back of your throat for a few seconds before you pulled back and started sucking on the tip. You teased the slit with your tongue and stroked him with your hand before you started bobbing your head.

Billy groaned. “Now I’m remembering why I’m so nice to you.”

The corners of your lips turned up, but you couldn’t give him the smirk you wanted to with his cock in your mouth. Billy always seemed to enjoy getting head from you, and with the way he treated and pleased you after, you didn’t mind giving it.

It was difficult to take all his length in your mouth though, so you stuck to using your hand near the base to stroke and squeeze what you couldn’t fit past your lips. Every now and then you would stop to suckle and lick at the swollen head, tasting the precum that was starting to spill.

Billy’s fingers wove into your hair, and you started to take him back in your mouth. You knew that he liked it when you struggled to take him all.

“Lemme feel that little throat choke on my dick.” He said, voice thick with arousal.

You fought your eyes from rolling back in your head as you felt yourself soak through your panties. You focused on breathing steadily through your nose, as Billy slowly thrusted his hips to fuck your mouth. Your fingers dug into the cushions of the couch, your pussy ached, but you let Billy use you. You wanted him to use you.

You were finding it harder to breathe and were getting a little overwhelmed trying to continually disengage your gag reflex, and tears had started spilling down your cheeks. When Billy noticed, he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Fuck!” Despite his roar, his rhythm slowed until he eventually pulled your mouth off him.

Your used jaw hung open for a little bit, and some drool slid off your tongue and onto your lap before you could close your mouth.

Billy delicately cupped your face and wiped away your tears. “Are you okay?” His voice was dripping with fake sympathy, but you loved it.

You tried to speak, but you could only nod. “Poor thing. Your brain’s probably leaking out of your little cunt, just like your mouth. Can’t even talk.”

You whimpered. You were so wet. Your panties were absolutely drenched.

“Fuck, baby. Get up here, lemme fuck that wet little cunt.”

Your legs were stiff from kneeling, but you sat down on the couch and pulled your dress off. Billy kissed you immediately, hands expertly ridding you of your bra and tossing it behind him, so he could twist your nipples with his fingers. One hand went up to wrap gently around the front of your throat and he pushed you so that you would lay back.

He moved his kisses down your throat to your tits, giving both of your nipples a wet suck, before he kissed down your stomach.

He looked up at you, his eyes menacingly dark with arousal. “I can smell you, baby, and I haven’t even taken off your panties.”

“So wet. Just for you, Billy.” You whined.

“Let me see.” He said. “Take ‘em off.”

You lifted your hips and pushed your panties down and pulled them off your feet. You dropped your panties to the floor, a little embarrassed at how you’d soaked through them when all you’d done was suck his cock.

Billy took one look at your glistening center before he slammed his cock inside you. He didn’t even bother to get undressed, but you felt the heat of his skin through his clothes.

You gasped hard at the intrusion. Usually, he warmed you up with his fingers, so now it felt like he was splitting you open. “Fuck, Billy... ‘s too big.” You practically sobbed. You realized you were still a little sore from this morning.

He gave one thrust, but then settled deep inside you and remained still. “What’s that?” He kissed your lips once, then your cheek, then began sucking on your neck.

“You’re too big!” You whimpered. Your hands clutched at his suit desperately in an attempt to ground yourself.

He chuckled into your neck. “You’re a big girl, you can take it. Can’t you?”

You whined as he pulled back and pressed in again. He was everywhere, it was too much, yet you wanted more.

He looked up at you and saw the single tear slipping past the corner of your eye. “Oh, darling. If you’re gonna cry, I can just stop. Don’t want to hurt the little baby with my big cock.” He kissed the trail left by your tear.

He started drawing back, but you cried out, “No!”

He held still, looking down at you with a smug smirk he was trying poorly to hide. “No? But I don’t wanna hurt your little pussy.”

“Please, don’t stop. I can take it. You made me so wet, Billy. I can take you, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, cupping your cheek sweetly.

You nodded vigorously. “Promise, I promise.”

Billy tapped your lips with two fingers, and you opened your mouth immediately. You sucked on his fingers, lathering them with your tongue before Billy pulled them out. He used them to press against your clit, and your hips arched up into him and your cunt clenched around him.

Billy grunted. “Such a tight little pussy. And it’s all mine.”

You nodded in agreement. “All yours.” You sighed, enjoying the way he was stroking your clit.

He started thrusted again slowly, but only for a few beats before he started fucking you earnestly. His hand abandoned your clit, so he could push one of your legs up against your chest and grip the arm of the couch in his other hand to allow him to rail you into oblivion.

Little sighs and moans were leaving your mouth unconsciously. You wondered if they could be heard over the sound of Billy’s skin slapping against yours. You were certain that they could, when you gave a particularly high-pitched whine as the tip of his cock hit that precious spot inside you.

Billy grunted. “Sing for me, baby. Let me take care of you. Like I always will.”

His words were what drove you to your orgasm, even more than the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your walls. Your body did indeed sing for Billy as you came.

Your vision kind of blacked out, and you could just barely hear Billy’s strained chuckle as he continued fucking you. “So gorgeous when you cum all over my cock like that. Your little cunt is fluttering all around me, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

You whined, getting a little overstimulated by his continuous thrusts. “Billy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, Billy.” You couldn’t say anything else.

Your vision came back into focus and there was a smirk on his lips. “I see your brain is still leaking out of your cunt.”

You opened your mouth to try to speak, but his hand when back to your clit and you gasped at the contact.

“Cum for me again, baby, then I’ll fill up your little cunt.”

Your back was arching from the attention to your clit and the building of your second orgasm. Your bare nipples brushed against the smooth fabric of his suit jacket and the peaks tightened even more at the friction. Everything was too much.

“Oh, don’t know if I can.” You mumbled.

Billy kissed your lips and slid his tongue into your mouth to tease yours for a moment. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “You can, baby, I know you can. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, almost reluctantly. You didn’t want to do anything but please him.

“Yes, you are.” He said proudly. With that, he started rubbing your clit rapidly and he didn’t stop until your walls were convulsing once again.

“Oh, Billy, ‘m cumming.” You cried, fingers digging into his back.

“Fuck, yeah, baby.” His rhythm stuttered a little bit before he gave some hard thrusts and came inside you. His hair was out of place and fell in front of his eyes, which were squeezed shut in his bliss. He’d never been more beautiful.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, so that he would settle against you. You needed his weight to ground you because you felt like you were going to float into space. Billy planted a few soft kisses on your cheek, jaw and behind your ear.

He pulled away then, and you groaned when his cock slipped out of you. You watched him watch his cum drip out of you. His dark eyes sparkled.

“Goddamn.” He said, his voice deeper than ever.

You bent both your knees and brought them close to your chest, opening yourself up for him. You ran your fingers gently through your folds and swiped at your entrance. You brought your fingers to your mouth, glistening with the combination of your cum and his, and sucked them between your lips. You moaned, mostly for show.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You teased.

Billy smirked. “You’re something else.”

You released your fingers, smiling up at him sweetly. “Think that will help you be less distracted tomorrow?”

He chuckled. “Definitely not.” He tucked himself back in his trousers.

You grinned.

“Come on, darling. Let’s take a bath.”

“Can’t walk.” You said simply, not even trying to move.

He shook his head, still grinning, but took you up his arms anyway.

You smacked a kiss on his cheek. “Love you, Billy.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 😌

Taglist: @kayhi808 @idaoftheburningmind @quellmythirst @kahlanmars @catherinnn @crowssixof @musicalggirl @insssanemind @loubombshell @misscaitygrace @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations

(please tell me if you want to be removed from my everything Billy Russo taglist, I just kinda look through everyone I have tagged on other stuff consistently)

#billy russo smut #billy russo fanfic #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x female reader #billy russo #billy russo fic #my writing #sugar daddy!Billy

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if-it-isnt-toni · 2 years

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I'm changing my mind about disliking Czech republic! Great song

#eurovision 2022 #so relatable #i also change my bedsheets!#love you queen #Billi eyelash vibes

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

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the seasons pass (but you never do) - e.m.

summary: he knew your reputation. he knew you had you way with half of hawkins. it was never going to end well - but that didn't stop him.

warnings: reader is NOT a good person (need to emphasize this), billy hargrove is involved and sort of ooc, smut, oral (fem receiving), a lot of hurt, not a 'happy' ending, reader has severe issues with self-esteem (not in the usual obvious way), very self-sabotaging reader. mentions of reader having adult relationships with multiple male characters. NOT A 'HAPPY' ENDING. minors dni - 18+

pairings: eddie munson x fem!fuckgirl!reader (with mentions of steve x reader, johnathan x reader, and billy x reader.)

wc: 8.4k+

a/n: i cannot emphasize enough - the reader in this fic is very toxic. she is not a good person. this does not end well. also, be wary, as billy is used as the easiest companion who can align with her being a bad person, so she is friends with him. this probably won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's been a year in the works! thank you to anyone who reads. <3 also, HUGE thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for making that banner for me. i am undeserving of your talents baby.

oh, also, here's a fun playlist to go along with it.

SUMMER, 1988

It was always going to end this way. It’s how it’s supposed to go - you met him, you wanted him, you got him, you left him. There was never any illusions on your part as to what this was. He knew your reputation. He knew the ending. You knew the ending.

It was always going to end this way.

There was no amount of flowers he could have got you, no amount of midnight rendezvous to change this course. It never mattered how his laughter wound your chest tight or how his fingers fit a little too perfectly between yours. You didn’t do long-term relationships, and he always asked for too much from you. You could give him a summer, no more and no less. He knew that, you knew that, all your previous flings knew that. There was only one ending ever in sight for the two of you.

So why does it hurt so much when you catch sight of him around town with her?

Chrissy Cunningham is beautiful. She’s all shades of sunrise pinks, flavors of sweetness that spur stomach aches - the epitome of enchantment and a type of softness you couldn’t compare to. And when you see her arm in arm with him, you can see that beauty of hers painted across him. Her pinks paint roses on his cheeks, her laughter etches dimples into his cheeks you’d only ever seen in the late hours of the night. She makes him happy. She makes him look lovesick. She doesn’t hide him in the darkness, she flaunts him in the light, and he looks devastatingly beautiful without the shadows.

You should be happy for him. It shouldn’t phase you; you didn’t bat an eyelash when Steve Harrington had taken to dating every other girl in the town after your spring with him. You never winced when Johnathan Byers started dating Nancy Wheeler after a flirtatious fall with you. Billy Hargrove had been on the same page as you, ready to brave a chilling winter with you and accept when the ice melted along with the infatuation, returning your winks when you spotted each other with your newest one night stands in shared bars.

But Eddie’s summer stuck to your skin. No amount of showers run cold, no amount of new partners who you won’t allow to spend the night, wash you clean of him. The change in the leaves only amplified the ache left in your chest when August turns to September. The flowers weren’t the only things wilting when September flashes into October.

You miss him terribly, and it’s all your fault.

You let him stick around far longer than you should have. You let his wandering lips slot between yours and you let him sleep at your side from the very first night. When it was all said and done, you were the one that broke every single imaginary rule you had set for yourself, and the blame was yours to carry. Eddie Munson was never going to be a three month memory to wipe away with the steam of your mirror. He’d done it, he’d left his mark. He’d managed to make the streets of Hawkins feel cold and empty in his absence, to make everything dull in comparison to your life before him.

You empty the last of your glass of wine, all bitter and tinged on your tongue, and chuckle internally as you watch Eddie’s hand’s find Chrissy’s hips from across the bar. Go figure.

SPRING, 1987

The Hideout was busy as ever, booming with business on a Saturday night as you reentered the scene. Your ‘date’ for the night was still outside the bar, surely not even entertaining the thought of coming back inside.

He hadn’t taken to you breaking the news that it was over kindly.

“You never let them down easy, do you?” Billy chuckles as he leans against one of the standing tables near the bar. He had seen the look in your eyes when you dragged the nameless boy out the front door; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Starry eyed boy, ever-fleeting girl. They were fools, and they should have noticed your wandering eyes and lack of commitment from the get-go.

“Never,” you smirk back as you approach him. The live band had just finished, the music over the speakers nothing compared to the deafening screams of the guitars that had played, “It’s not my fault the boys in this town never learn their lesson.”

Billy only shrugs and throws back the last of his whiskey, “What did it this time? Did he drop the big L? Maybe he brought you flowers like Harrington did that one time?”

“Oh, God,” you place a hand over your heart dramatically, “Please don’t remind me. Breaking his heart nearly broke my nonexistent one.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy cackles, “Still can’t believe you ever gave the sap a chance. Or what about Byers, hm?”

“Couldn’t break a heart I never had. He always had eyes for Wheeler, that’s what made it fun,” you shrug and grab at a fruity drink that had been abandoned at the table, “To answer your question, he got clingy. All jealous because I was making eyes at the lead singer,” you tip your chin towards the stage that’s now empty and take a sip of the cocktail, “Say, what happened to your date? She looked pretty.”

“You were making eyes at Munson? Doll, I knew you were getting desperate after me, but him?” Billy cuts himself off with a low whistle.

“Shut up,” you take another long sip of the drink. It’s sweeter than your preference, but free alcohol is free alcohol, “Tell me what happened to the blonde you were chatting up.”

“I’m more into redheads.”

“Aw, but it looked like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I had to have three shots before I could stomach her laughing at my jokes.”

You reach over to pinch his cheeks, receiving sharp slaps against your wrists.

“Hot,” you coo before leaning back and ending his attack against your hands, “You know, if we both strike out tonight, we could always go home together.”

“You struck out, the night is still young for me,” Billy grins wickedly and looks around the busy bar for emphasis.

There’s a small commotion at one of the doors to the side of the stage, and you glance over to catch sight of the band that had been playing exiting.

The lead singer, Munson as Billy had referred to him, was just as stunning when taken down from his stage pedestal. His hair had been pulled back into a low bun, his torso once exposed on stage now covered in a faded Judas Priest tour shirt, but his Cheshire smile on his face was just as brilliant without the stage lights. Dimples hidden by the dark bar lighting, plush lips and scruff framing his face.

Billy catches you staring at him.

“Maybe you didn’t strike out,” he hums, “You gonna go for it, hot stuff?”

You smile in return. Something dangerous, something evil yet inviting, “I might. I do need a new play thing for the summer, after all.”

“Careful. I’m sure there’s a line of groupies willing to fight you for the Eddie Munson.”

Billy had been mocking you with a shrill voice, but he had been wrong.

There was no line of girls for you to compete with as you approached Eddie. And if there was, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. From the moment you had smiled at him, uttering your name into Eddie’s ears over the bass of the music, placing a careful hand on his shoulder and telling him how much you just adored his music, he had been hooked. You had him in your grasp from the start.

And maybe Billy knew that as he flashed you a sly grin over a redhead’s shoulder as you dragged Eddie behind you later that night, heading for the restrooms that patrons notably didn’t use.

It was your lipstick smeared over Eddie’s neck that night, it was your name falling from his lips as you pressed him against a stall wall, it was your hair that he tangled his hands in as you sat pretty on your knees before him, it was your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs as he fucked your mouth. No, other girls never would have stood a chance.

By the end of that night, you hadn’t even cum, but you thought nothing of it, still smug that you’d found yourself a new supposed victim. You’d never considered which one of you truly held the match, which one of you might bleed gasoline rather than crimson blood.

All that you considered was the fact that you’d wanted Eddie, and you’d got him, just as it always went.

That was only the first night.

SUMMER, 1987

You fall for him in the summer. You convince yourself you’re in control still, but it’s fruitless - you’d lost control the moment you’d tasted him on that dizzy spring night rather than waiting for the arrival of summer’s heat.

“Come over.”

Two simple words, yet the moment you’d spoken them over the line, Eddie had wasted no time to speed his way across town for your apartment. He was officially at your beck and call. You said the word, and he was at your dispense.

It was the fastest he’d ever arrived at your doorstep, rapping his knuckles against familiar rosewood and listening to the familiar weight of your footsteps approaching the door.

“Hey, you,” you sigh softly once you catch sight of him in your porchlight. The creatures of summer buzz as background noise as you drink him in. Same wild curls, same deviant smirk. There looks to be new rips in his black jeans, and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that shatters the dreamy image of him to you.

You still want him just as badly as you had the first night.

“Sorry I took so long,” he teases, leaning into the doorframe you rest your hip against, “Traffic, you know.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just terrible this time of year,” you play along. You both know he’d made the fifteen minute drive in under ten minutes. But there’s something in the warm air, something electric and fluttering and addictive and palpable. You’re sure if you were to rest your hand flirtatiously against his chest as you normally did with your rotation of partners, that he’d burn you.

Something new. You tell yourself it’s just the excitement of a fresh Summer plaything, and you ignore the voice that whispers with the reminder that this started in the Spring.

“You gonna let me in?” he nods in the direction of your apartment behind you, bathed in a soft yellow from the dusk and the lamp on the table beside your couch.

You bring a hand to your chin and tap a finger mockingly, “Hm, I don’t know. Should I?”

“You should,” he leans even closer.

“I might need convincing.”

His breath washes over your cheek, so gentle you could have mistaken it for the summer breeze. You can smell the spice of his cologne, the stubborn smoke from his last cigarette. It makes your head spin.

“Convincing, you say?” he murmurs as his lips graze your earlobe, “I’ve been known to be convincing.”

This was something you enjoyed about him. He wasn’t like other boys - he didn’t fall to your feet and praise the ground you stood on, not directly. He didn’t follow you like a lost puppy. He took the time to dance with you, to entertain you with banter and to enrapture you with the chase. Maybe that’s why Spring and Summer felt the same when it came to him.

“I call bullshit,” you laugh breathlessly as his lips connect with your neck, making a trail of pecks until he reaches the bare skin of your shoulder. “You still haven’t convinced me to listen to Metallica.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his fingers sneak beneath the strap of your tank top, “Just be patient.”

The pet name strikes a kink in your armor, and in an instant, your hands are on his shoulders and dragging him into the living room, barely remembering to slam the door shut behind him.

You never let them call you nicknames normally. Billy had been the only exception.

But when he calls you baby, something blooms in your chest. And it’s vines and thorns alike twist and prick your gut, deflating your better judgment as the two of you are a mess of clumsy limbs that can’t seem to navigate your hallway fast enough. You can’t seem to get him to your bed fast enough.

“Off,” he demands against your lips when you finally have him sitting on your comforter, thighs straddling his as his hands tug at the tank top’s hem.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, but you’re already complying, shucking off the fabric and exposing yourself to him. You’d foregone a bra - it was too hot in Hawkins this time of year.

He doesn’t offer you an answer, hardly taking the time to suck in a deep breath before his mouth wraps around one of your peaked nipples and his large hand spans across your back to press you as close to him as he can get you. You’re already moaning too loudly, sure to receive noise complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. But you’re not thinking about the neighbors or tomorrow, you can only focus on his tongue and lips, working soft magic over your body as he twists the two of you so that he’s hovering over you.

“Fuck,” you blissfully breathe out, fingertips raking through the roots of his curls. His mouth has moved on to your other breast, leaving blooming petals of bruises in its wake.

Another thing you’d never allow to happen with any of the other boys.

No marks. A simple rule. A forgotten rule when it came to Eddie.

“You like that?” he chuckles as he places a final chaste kiss to your chest, lifting his head and staring up at you with his bambi eyes. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in, wander and wade through for hours if given the chance. Shadows of brown and honey intertwining, beckoning to you with a promise of the adoration you seeked out.

You do like that. As a matter of fact, you love it.

“I like it better when your mouth is busy, rockstar,” you say as if you wouldn’t listen to him talk for hours, as if you hadn’t listened to him speak about nonsense as the time passed the two of you by.

He takes his cue, and he does as you ask. He traces roadmaps down your stomach, across your thighs and hips, not uttering a single word until he’s pulled away your cotton shorts and lace underwear.

When he’s face to face with your heat, he finally speaks again.

“Beautiful.”

It’s just a word. If any of your previous flings had spoken it, you’d smack them away and declare the moment over. In fact, you’d done just that with your autumn boy from last year. You weren’t here to be called beautiful, to be held carefully or to be praised as you let them take you however they pleased. You were here to get one thing and one thing only - your own pleasure.

Your back still arches when he says the word, your vines still crack your ribs just as they had reacted to the utterance of baby.

The thorns prickle beneath your skin when he makes you cum with his tongue once, twice, thrice too many times. When he pulls your body to his, when you allow him to forego the protection of a condom and you let him sigh contentedly into your mouth when he slides in, it all pierces you the same.

And when your voice has grown hoarse from chanting his name and your lips have gone chapped from kissing him desperately, you break your final damning rule.

“Stay with me?”

The plea comes out soft and heavy as your head rests against his chest. Even with your window open, the night breeze drifting in, the heat is stifling. It’s too warm to stay pressed so closely together, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging your body to his.

He doesn’t hesitate in his reply, “Of course.”

The two of you sink further into your sheets and each other. It wasn’t the first time Eddie Munson spent the night in your bed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

AUTUMN, 1987

“You like him more than you liked the others.”

It’s not a question - it’s a fact secured in concrete that falls from Billy’s lips as the two of you lean against the brick exterior of the Hideout. A cigarette is half-gone and held limply between his lips, yours freshly lit and clung to tightly between white knuckles.

“I don’t like him,” you scoff, “He’s a good fuck.”

You weren’t here on your normal business, scoping for another warm body to join you in your bed for the night. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing one of their weekly shows.

“Right. A good enough fuck to live to see the fall,” Billy presses, raising his eyebrows at you as he takes another drag and let’s the whisps of white smoke carry off into the cool night.

You’d just been striking out. That’s what you had told yourself. It was bound to happen eventually; you’d hit a dry streak, and you’d have to eventually find a repeat offender. Eddie was just that for you. Someone easy to fall back on. It didn’t hurt that you also enjoyed his company, especially when he’d swing you around in your kitchen while the two of you made dinner in your apartment or when he’d let you cuddle into his neck during the scary movie marathons you’d began to take part in with Halloween now looming around the corner.

“I haven’t seen you getting lucky,” you snap, a sudden defensiveness taking over. A lie, of course. You hadn’t frequented the bar enough lately to even know the last time your former fling had gotten laid.

Billy throws up his hands as he discards the butt of his cigarette, “Hey now, don’t get so feisty, doll. It’s okay to admit you’re going soft.”

Soft. Soft like Eddie’s hands when he pulled your hips against his night after night. Soft like Eddie’s eyes when he watched you in the shower during the mornings after, quick to swipe away any shampoo that drips down your forehead and dangerously close to your own eyes as you wash your hair. Soft like your voice every time you asked him to stay, over and over, never learning your lesson.

“I’m not going soft,” is all you say as you put out the cigarette, not even half-finished, and move to go back inside.

You’re not having this conversation. There’s nothing more to dissect. You weren’t going soft and you couldn’t like Eddie, it wasn’t in your nature.

It’s a mantra you repeat to yourself as you take in the sight of him still setting up the stage. You catch his eye and he grins at you, and you remind yourself you’re not soft. No, whatever this feeling is, it’s not soft. It is angry and loud, it is demanding and sharp. It is copper on your tongue and it is raging storm clouds in your mind. It is the opposite of everything he has been to you; it is every contrast possible to the way he treats you.

He treats you like a human being. You’re not a prize, you’re not an idol – you’re just a person, and sometimes, he treats you as if that’s the greatest thing you could possibly be.

When the show is over and rounds have been bought for the band, he comes home with you. He staggers on his feet and you know he’s had too much whiskey for his own good. Normally, any guy this drunk would be told to piss off.

He’s not any guy. He’s Eddie.

And so you take his drunken state in strides. You let his body lean into you as you guide him up the steps to your front door, you only smile when he gets handsy, you offer weak laughter at his terrible jokes.

“You only want me for my body,” he teases you between kisses when you hook your fingers into his jean’s belt loops to keep him close and upright, “Don’t you?”

This is the part where you tell him yes. You’re supposed to tell him he’s nothing more than a cure for the looming loneliness.

You shake your head.

“I’m not, but I can’t ride your personality, can I?” your fingers retract from the loops, and trace their way up his chest, memorizing the muscles beneath the t-shirt. It’s too faded to see the band logo once advertised.

“You could try,” he sways, and your wandering fingers curl into fists into the cotton material, “P-Probably be pretty hard, though. Just like me.”

He takes one of your hands and places it over the bulge in his jeans.

If he were any other guy, you’d play into it, because if he were any other guy, you’d be expecting to get something out of this night for your own selfish needs.

“Not so fast, rockstar,” you bring your hand back up to his chest as he hiccups, brows furrowed at your subtle rejection, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

It’s an uphill battle of gangly limbs and stumbling steps. He falls against your hallway walls more times than you can count as you guide him to your bedroom and allow him to splay out on the mattress. The laces of his combat boots are impossibly knotted, but you win the war in the end and tug them off of him. He wiggles his toes within his socks, and watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“This is the part where you try to ride my personality, right?” he tempts you, the wiggling in his toes flowing up to his eyebrows, eyes alight with mischief.

Your hand is gentle as you grab his ankle, exposed from jeans that had ridden up into scrunched material around the bottom of his calf. “Right. Let me get you some water first.”

You leave him to rush to the kitchen, gathering the glass of water you’d promised along with a bottle of painkillers from your medicine cabinet. For a moment, you take in the silence and lean your palms onto the cold kitchen counter.

Five months. Two months too long, technically, if you were comparing it all to your track record. He’d seen the eggshell white walls of your apartment more than your own mother, more than your closest friends. At this point, even on your most lonesome nights, you found yourself leaving an Eddie-sized space on the sheets beside you. One of your pillows now permanently smelt like him. There was a mug in your cabinet reserved for him and his ridiculously sweet coffee preference. You’d bought his favorite brand of cigarettes just last week, far stronger than your preferred menthols, and you’d found one of his socks discarded in your dirty laundry.

No, this wasn’t soft. It couldn’t be.

When you finally return to your room, he’s already asleep. You still leave the water and the pills on the bedside table for the next morning, when he’d need them. You try not to think too hard about the way that even in his drunken slumber, he’s left a perfectly you-sized space beside him, arm thrown out perfectly so that you can curl into him once you’ve brushed your teeth and dressed down into pajamas.

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep against him is the way your soft hand grazes over his stomach in soothing circles, and the way your brain softly whispers in the hope of his hangover not being too cruel to him come morning light.

WINTER, 1987

“Eddie! Stop it!” you squeal when he nearly takes you down with him as his back connects with the polished ice beneath the two of you.

Ice skating wasn’t the best idea for two people who were notoriously uncoordinated. But he’d asked you to come with him, and you’d put up little resistance.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, still laying flat on his back with his eyes squeeze shut, legs spread wide as you wobble on your skates, “That fucking hurts.”

“I bet it does,” you nearly giggle, childish with your rosey cheeks and pink-tipped nose. Your smile is infectious once he opens his eyes and catches sight of you fighting back your laughter.

It was the first time the two of you had ever gone out before dark with each other. Although, you were sure by the time you two had finished your goofing off inside the indoor ice rink, it’d be night.

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, struggling to lift himself onto his elbows, “Laugh it up, chuckles. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your first fifty falls.”

“Fifty?” you squeak, forcing faux offense, “I only fell twice, thank you very much.”

It takes a bit for him to finally find his footing once more, plenty of hesitant and awkward movements to simply stand up right before you. Once you’re nearly face to face again, he’s pouting. “Kiss it better?”

Your feet shuffle beneath you, struggling to keep your balance. Your hands fly out and grab onto one of his forearms for balance, “Where’s it hurt?”

“Right here,” his free hand lifts to point to his lips, accentuating his pout further.

“Funny,” you muse, “I don’t recall you falling on your face - this time.”

He huffs as you begin to lose your balance again, one of your hands slipping down his wrist until your fingers are intertwined to the best of your abilities given the angle. His hand is freezing from the ice. Even despite his teasing, he’s quick to work with you, keeping the two of you standing straight with ever-shuffling feet.

“Residual pains or whatever they call them,” he waves off, tapping his lips again to make a point. You roll your eyes, but you’re still quick to lean forward and peck him.

“That’s all?” he whines, already moving in for another kiss.

Any onlooker would assume it’s a date. But it couldn’t be - you didn’t do dates. It was two friends, two acquaintances really, hanging out for the sake of fun. Just as you fell back on Eddie when your nights grew forlorn, he had seeked you out for comfort on his isolating days. It was just another perk of your arrangement.

An arrangement that had dragged on for eight long months.

“You’re greedy,” you mumble against his lips as he tries to deepen the kiss and you deny him.

“Of course I’m greedy,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, “Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?”

You couldn’t, you really couldn’t. You’d had your fair share of possessive types in the past, the kind that felt the need to always claim you as your own. And you would have found it hot, too, if it didn’t feel like they reduced you down to nothing more than some trophy to parade around town.

Eddie didn’t do that. He was still greedy, he had still gotten daring with marking you as his own as of late, but he never reduced you. He never forced you to shrivel in size, never tried to compact you into the box he needed you in. He took you as you were.

You were enough for him. For the first time in a very long time, you were enough.

If you thought about it too long, you would have become dizzy out there on the ice with Eddie. So you don’t think about it. You indulge yourself in banter and echoing laughter, in the scolding looks from nearby parents when one of you makes a crude joke loud enough for their children to hear. You claim your indulging him with the incessant kisses, but you know deep down they’re also for you. To feel his lips on yours. To feel his hands on your hips. To feel his fingers between yours.

To feel like enough.

You’re both still giddy when you approach the counter after several hours have passed, dropping your rented skates on the counter as you glance to the arcade filled with patrons. Glowing lights and trilling noises emit from the area, tangling with giggling that you can’t quite place as coming from there or the ice. It’s loud enough that Eddie has to lean in closer to the teenager working the cash register.

He insisted on paying. You’d tried to fight him on it, but he insisted it was his treat.

It’s during this momentary separation, in which your worlds’ briefly stop revolving around each other, that you spot him. He must have been here for as long as you and Eddie had been, and you must have just been too wrapped up in enough to have noticed him sooner.

Just as you see him, he sees you. Just as you prepare to turn on heel, to return to hiding into Eddie’s enough, he’s calling your name.

It’s loud. It mingles with the sounds already coming from the atmosphere. Eddie doesn’t hear him, but you do.

“Steve,” you try to greet him with a friendly tone through your clenched teeth, taking a few steps further away from Eddie, away from enough and blissful delusion, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah,” he looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he approaches you, “Yeah, not since, uh- well, you know.”

Not since the night you’d officially cut all ties with him, somewhere between Jonathan and Billy. You’d broken his heart. You’d nearly broken your own.

Your lips are pressed into a tight lip smile as you try to redirect the conversation, “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I’ve- uh, yeah, good. You?”

I’ve been on a downward spiral of breaking every single rule that I have spent my entire life curating for my dating life, and I know you’re aware of this by the way you just looked at Eddie over my shoulder, and the way your brow is furrowing, and I get it. I get it. I fucked up.

“I’ve been alright,” you force your jaw to relax, you force a kind and shy smile. It’s almost akin to the ones you’d originally flash him to get him in your grasp, “How’s Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler. After you left Steve the first time, letting whatever situationship that had begun just fizzle out, he’d ran into her arms. From the get go with Jonathan, you’d always known you were a placeholder for her. Even Billy had made a damn pass at her once you guys gave up at spring’s dawn; he’d claimed it might as well be a tradition now, only laughing as Nancy shot him down as expected.

Nancy Wheeler was everything you weren’t. She could promise these men security, stability, commitment, a future. She didn’t hide them. They weren’t dirty secrets forced to only wander into her arms late at night, they weren’t kicked out at the end of each night once she’d had their way with them.

Nancy probably never had her way with men, you realized, more likely letting them have their way with her.

“We broke up,” Again. He forgets to add the again.

They’d gotten together after that first time, been together while you had fun with Jonathan, broken up the moment you were finished with Jonathan and he could go to where he belonged – with Nancy.

Of course, when Jonathan chose a different university to go to, somewhere far away from Nancy, those two had broken up. Steve had swooped in again. It was a never ending headache of small town gossip you had grown tired of hearing about.

“I’m sorry,” you aren’t really, “That’s… forget I’m asked,” you’d feel worse if you hadn’t seen the girl waiting to the side for Steve. His date, no doubt.

“No worries, it’s been a while since it happened anyways,” he shrugs it off, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes.

He’d once called you drunkenly, going off on how he was going on all these dates trying to find you or Nancy again, how none of them were you or Nancy. Which, at the time, just irritated you because Steve, why do you still have my number? But now? Now, you almost get it. You almost understand the pain of searching for a familiar face in the eyes of strangers because any time you had gone to your usual haunts these last seven months, you found yourself searching crowds for wild, messy curls and warm brown eyes. For shades of honey and the scent of tobacco drowned out by cheap cologne.

You hadn’t been striking out anymore, the realization hits clear as day. It’s not even that you were being as picky as you normally were – none of the guys were Eddie. None of them had freckles below their right eyes that made your breath catch, none of them had the same calluses along their fingers from years of guitar practice. None of them had the same boyish grin that shone through the dark of your room at two in the morning, leaving you with no choice but to let him stay. They weren’t Eddie.

“You like him more than you liked the others,” Billy’s voice reverberates from the back of your mind.

The truth seeps into your bones like ash and flames, a fever burning you from the inside out.

Steve only fans the flames when he nods over your shoulder at Eddie, “So, are you and Munson a thing now?”

Flames. Hot coals in the back of your throat, lively embers trailing down your spine. You’re watching the entirety of who you had worked so hard to become over the years bursting into flames.

“What?” you whisper, not realizing Eddie had finished paying behind you, “No. No, we- no. We aren’t anything. We’re just… we’re just friends.”

Even the word friends whispers away into smoke, choking you up.

“Friends? Looks like you two were on a date, like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“Well, we’re not. He’s not.”

Steve hardly buys it, but when Eddie joins your side once more, you don’t even offer him a glimmer of a farewell. You grab the wrist of your friend, your not boyfriend, and you high tail out of there. Still choked up, still running, still reeling.

It’s still light when you leave the building and your hand drops from Eddie’s. You’ll both pretend the cold is from the weather, and not the distance you put between him and yourself.

And if he heard your conversation with Steve, he doesn’t bring it up. Not that night, at least.

SPRING, 1988

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You got him in the spring – it makes sense that you lose him in the spring.

“What do you mean?” you play dumb, painfully coy as you continue to rinse the dishes. Plural. Dishes that the two of you had just dirtied through a painfully tense dinner together. In your apartment, at the counter of your tiny kitchen, knees not even so much as brushing.

“This,” something has broken inside of him. Snapped, shattered, splintered. “It’s been a year, and I keep telling myself that you’ll come around, but-”

“Come around?” you cut him off with a laugh, one that stabs not only through his chest but your own. A double-edged dagger that has been sharpening itself for a year now, “Come around to what, Eddie?”

He hadn’t expected the way you lash out, the cold storm that you had been consumed by since the winter night where Steve had looked at you like something had changed in you. As if you had finally gotten better, as if you had had something sour in you all along and Eddie had managed to magically drain you of it.

He couldn’t. He never was going to be able to.

“Me?” he’s not sure of himself, voice wavering and eyes sparkling as they widen with tears of frustration, “Us? Fuck, I don’t know, but I can’t keep-”

“You thought I would come around to the idea of us?” your voice is cool and collected, nothing like his, as you finally turn around, “What, like we’re dating?”

You were. A year of this back and forth, and you were too stubborn to just accept it. It was your downfall. It was the bleeding wound for not only yourself, but for Eddie – for this, as he had called it.

You like him more than you liked the others.

So, are you and Munson a thing now?

A good enough fuck to live to see the fall.

You were never going to be enough for him. In your lifetime, you’d always known what you were good for, and it wasn’t for boys like Eddie Munson.

“What else do you call this?” he motions vaguely to the dishes, to the fridge that holds his takeout, to the hallway he had tumbled down more times than you could count, “We’re more than just good friends, sweetheart.”

“We both knew what we were getting into.”

“Did we?”

Come over.

I might need convincing.

Stay with me?

You should have been smarter. You should have been more careful.

It’s a brutal fight, and it’s the everything you had been waiting for. The illusion of softness finally breaks. Whispered words of care have become sharp insults, all the small moments where you had made mistake after mistake with him are now weapons. If the dated walls of your kitchen could speak, the tiles would murmur of all the blood being spelt as brutal defenses are sent back and forth from both sides.

“I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“You could, you just don’t want to.”

“What’s the difference, Eddie?”

You were never going to be enough. You should have seen that, clear as daylight from the beginning. You were something rotten from the moment he met you, and he had just been too stupid to recognize all the decay.

Of course I’m greedy. Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?

Why couldn’t he just accept what you were willing to give? Why did he have to push, to persist, to insist upon you laying more of yourself out for him? You had already dissected yourself beyond repair, made the cuts that would never heal and bared your innards in a way that you never should have to begin with.

Stay with me?

You wish you were still just lazing in between your sheets with him. A you-shaped space at his side, a pillow on his side of your bed. You wish he had never picked a fight he had every right to rage. You wish, you wish, you wish.

Stay with me?

And then you lose, you lose, you lose.

“You were just some idiot who thought you could change me,” you seethe at some point, aiming damning arrows for every exposed bone he’d ever given you a glimpse of, “What made you think that? Hm? Was it when I paraded you around the town, calling you my boyfriend? Or was it every time I told you just how much I loved you? Was it when I fell to my knees and kissed the ground you walked on, Eddie? Go ahead. Tell me.”

You were just rubbing salt in the wound at that point. Saying everything he had wished for over the last year, that you never gave him.

You never called him your boyfriend. You never told him you loved him. You never did, and you never would.

When it’s all said and done, it’s everything you had expected. A screaming match that the neighbors will complain about the same as they’d complained about every late-night rendezvous between the two of you. An effective cutting of ties that you’d been anticipating for a long twelve months. If it were the movies, maybe the fight would have been more effective. Something that would delve into the lead up of love confessions, an ending where you wind up in his arms and he’s whispering every which way that he still cares for you, even with your teeth bared and your sharpest knives poised.

It’s not a movie. It’s everything you expected.

But you hadn’t been prepared for the ache. When your own vicious words left a taste of ash on the tongue, when his eyes flashing with something harsher and less caring for you left a hollow ache that rang in your ears longer than his voice did. You didn’t think that you’d feel the cutting of ties. Every nerve ending in your body feels that jagged edge that saws through all that you two had tried to build over the last year, but it’s far too little and far too late. The foundation was cracked – you were damaged.

You lose him. The world doesn’t end; the night carries on even as he grabs his leather jacket and leaves behind the sock in your dirty laundry. And when he exits out your front door, hiding away any tears that might have slipped free, just as you were, you feel that unexpected whisper inside of you.

Stay with me?

You sleep alone that night. For once, the smell of tobacco and his shampoo makes you throw the pillow that was once his across the room.

SUMMER, 1988

She deserves him.

Chrissy Cunningham deserved Eddie Munson far more than you ever had. She was enough.

Summer can stain, but it can’t erase. Even in the months of aftermath, even for every tear shed in private and wave of yearning that would drown you in the dead of night, you never changed. It had hardly taken weeks after Eddie had walked out of your life for you to return to your old ways, going back to the bars and seeking out the latest warm blood to lose yourself in that night.

It didn’t matter that you compared each and every single smile to Eddie’s. It didn’t matter that you’d have to grip your sheets until your knuckles turned bloody to avoid touching the strangers hovering over you, hoping to feel familiar skin and a comfort long lost instead of whatever poor soul you’d dragged home with you.

He deserves a love full of life. A love that breathes him in and doesn’t drain him. One that could let him feel the sun on his skin rather than hiding him away in the night.

A love that doesn’t tick away each passing season, because it’s a love that doesn’t have a ticking time bomb attached to it.

“Never thought I’d see the day Cunningham got her claws in Munson,” Billy mumbles around a cigarette at your side.

He didn’t tease about Eddie those first few months. One look at you, and he had known.

“She didn’t get her claws in him,” you say, monotonous as you reach for your drink once more, “I’m happy for him. They look happy.”

They do. They really, really do. A love that burns like summer, and has never been touched by a dying autumn or cruel winter. The type of happiness Eddie would have never been able to find from you, try as he had.

Billy taps some of his ash into the tray at the center of your shared table. Surely, he had better things to do, but he stays. It was probably entertaining, watching you pine and regret for once in your life, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Their’s don’t. I bet you that there’s a ring on her finger before next summer.”

You don’t want to imagine the pain that would ignite in you. That’s the type of emotion that would far surpass any regret you currently feel. But you seem to enjoy torturing yourself, eyes still zeroing in on her left hand, as if you already see the glint of whatever diamond Eddie would seek out for his worthy lover.

“And I bet if that happens, you skip town within twenty four hours of finding out.”

He’s right. Nothing was truly tying you to this sleepy town, and the reminder of your worst mistake, your most terrible slip up of all time, would easily send you running with your tail between your legs.

“Probably,” you sigh, no longer putting up a front. You hadn’t even tried batting your lashes at a single man since Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the bar. You were striking out tonight, on your own volition, “Maybe I’d move to California. I hear the men there are easy enough.”

“They are,” Billy laughs, throwing his head back. It’s enough to garner attention across the bar, numerous girls being enticed as if he might be a siren beckoning to them, “Take it from one. The girls on the west coast are prettier, though, so you can’t blame ‘em.”

The girls on the west coast probably resemble Chrissy. Golden skin, golden auras, golden light. Honeyed words and the sweetest of blushes across coy cheeks. They probably embody every sunset and sunrise simultaneously, and you can only stand there green with envy.

“You are awfully easy,” is all you can offer in reply. The banter has started to fall flat since Eddie. You’re no fun – hardly taking any bait that Billy will hand over so generously.

Maybe, if you had tried a little harder, you could have been one of those girls. Clear blue skies, not a sight of the storm clouds that you still let consume you.

Maybe Eddie would have stayed if you had tried a little harder.

There’s no real hope for it now. You’re left to being nothing more than a conglomeration of pathetic pity parties and the taste of cheap beer these days, hardly worth the chase once the boys get close enough to see the rot. You’ve stopped trying so hard to cover it up; you’d ripped yourself open for Eddie, and had never found a way to properly suture yourself back together so that anyone new might not get a glimpse of all the bad. They could spot it from a mile away these days.

It doesn’t help that you no longer try to cover it all up with overly sweet perfumes or sickly sweet pickup lines.

Billy’s laughter didn’t just draw the attention of the girls around the bars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a pair of whiskey eyes find the two of you, locking on you far too easily to have not known.

You notice, because of course you notice him. But when Billy notices, it catches you a bit more off guard.

“Like I said,” he drawls, and you nearly panic when he grabs his drink off to leave you behind, “Looks can be deceiving, hot stuff.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s quickly, not listening to a word that Billy is saying. Chrissy is saying something, something surely important, but her boy isn’t listening. Her boy, her conduit for all her sunshine, is staring right at you and has no plans on looking away any time soon.

He’s seen the rot up close and personal. He’s the one who’d handed the treacherous scalpel over to your shaking hands, encouraging you to open up in all the ways you never wished to.

You shouldn’t do it. You’ll regret it. You really shouldn’t do this.

“They never learn their lesson, do they?”

You don’t know who Billy is talking about.

Eddie, who almost seems to be under your spell, taking a slow slip of his neat whiskey, staring you down as if he’s brimming with bad ideas that he hopes you can hear from across the room.

Or you, who should know better. You hurt him, you broke his heart, you don’t deserve him. And yet, you’re selfish as ever, mind reeling with possibilities of how you wish the night would end.

You can hear the bad ideas. Clear as day. Especially when Eddie only breaks eye contact long enough to lean in to Chrissy and whisper something that effectively dismisses her, leaving Eddie all alone and in your gaze.

“They don’t,” you say, throwing back the last of your drink.

You know where he’s heading. And you know where you’re heading. A moth to his flame, going only where he will allow you. You’re a ghost of the menace you once were. The other men, the other bodies that kept you warm these nights; none of them were him. You didn’t want them. You weren’t soft with them. They never stayed, because you never asked them to. There was only one man in this bar, in this entire damn bar, that would ever fill the hole left behind in you after Eddie’s summer. Eddie’s spring, Eddie’s autumn, Eddie’s winter.

And he was walking outside the bar, almost tauntingly as he sauntered through the doors, beckoning you with each and every step.

Perhaps this time, Eddie’s the one who needs a summer plaything.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Billy taunts you as he takes a few steps back, knowing damn well as to what was about to happen. Bad ideas, downright terrible ideas.

Eddie is playing the same game as you were once a master in. It dawns on you; Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t his newest love. She wasn’t his sweetest sunrise or gentle spring. She was a passing wind, just like all the boys you’d enticed before him. She’s already moved along, pretty hand resting on the shoulder of a new beau and not even paying any mind to Eddie’s absence. She may deserve him, but she doesn’t have him.

Nor do you. The roles have been switched, and you should know better. He’s leading you to an inevitable death, whether it be a little one or something of catastrophic value. He is leading you right into your own demise. Just as you used to do with every new victim you’d set your mark on before him, before your summer, before it all.

All your old tricks, turned to weapons against you.

And you’ll let him. A moth to his flame. A dog at his window sill.

“It never does.”

Stay with me?

Maybe, this time, you’ll be the one staying. If only for the night, and if only for Eddie.

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beetboxx · 2 years

Text

nice boys - b.h. x reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

warnings: overall filth. like, filthy. degradation, humiliation, use of belt as restraint, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it, friends!) face slapping, dacryphilia, overstimulation, denial, sir kink, let me know if there’s more!

“c’mon, can’t you be submissive one time?” you giggled, running your pointer finger down billy’s cheek. you were perched on his lap as he laid on his grungy bed, legs straight out behind you and torso leaned on the board. his hands were lazily planted on your hips, at that moment scooting you up his torso so you weren’t rubbing against his growing erection.

“over my dead body, sweetheart,” he spoke, grumbly in nature. “cut it out, it’s not funny.” he pinched the skin on your hip lightly, just to flag you to quit while you were ahead, still on his good side.

“m’not doing anything! i just wanna know!” you sat yourself up onto his hips, pressing your chest against his as you ran your palms down onto his biceps.

“know what?”

“why you won’t let me be in charge! i wanna try it.”

billy scoffed, cocked his head to the side with his eyebrows raised. curious.

“i’d treat you real good, billy,” you grinned, laying a hand on his cheek. “take care of you, make you feel good.”

your thumb walked back and forth on his jaw, slowly, testing your waters.

“don’t you wanna be a good boy? for me?”

you made sure to pout, look at him through your eyelashes. you knew he couldn’t tell you no explicitly- and he didn’t. he just sighed and muttered, “whatever.” which was technically billy-code for, “stop right now, i swear to god.”

“i’ll be nice!” you argued. “just need you to listen to me.”

“i will listen to you whenever i want, baby,” he corrected, rising his palms to cup your waist.

you narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips, shaking your head as you reached to grip at his chin. you had already decided your fate for the night. “noo, you’re gonna listen to me and do what i say. did i say you could touch me?”

you were getting into character. and billy was really starting to get frustrated. you knew he was when he opened his mouth to say something, probably tell you to stay in your lane, but you caught it.

“ah-ah, did i say you could touch me?” you repeated, raising your voice slightly.

billy huffed, just tightened his grip on your waist. his jaw was tightening, grinding his molars against each other. his eyes shifted.

“(y/n),” he muttered, spitting your name smoothly from his lips. “i will also touch you whenever i want. i’m not playing this game with you.”

you furrowed your eyebrows together. to billy, you looked like you were just pouting, even though you were trying to put on a mean face. he said he wasn’t going to play with you, but he didn’t stop you from peeling his hands off your waist and attempting to pin them down at his sides. he could easily break away, no doubt, but he was curious. maybe he’d let you have your fun for a little. it paid off immediately when you smiled, victory shining in your eyes when his wrists hit the mattress.

but then you jumped up off of his lap with a gasp and a bright idea, lifting up a finger to him. “ooh! wait here, i’ll be right back!” you exclaimed, grinning like a possum. you ran out of the room then, leaving billy laying there, confused and kind of nervous. you weren’t one to bring him surprises. he didn’t even agree to anything!

you came back seconds later, skipping into his bedroom with a long strip of leather laid in your hands- his favorite belt, and the one he used to bind your hands together for the first time when he spread you out in the backseat of his car. he groaned, shook his head. how humiliating.

“since you don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself,” you grinned proudly, perfectly reciting his words to you and spiking his memory, “i guess i gotta do it myself!”

you returned to your spot on his lap, this time purposefully anchoring yourself in just the right spot to make billy grunt and involuntarily buck his hips up. you started to bend and pull the belt into a sort of makeshift handcuffs, trying to remember the steps billy took to do the same. you were struggling. billy saw, sighed heavily and grabbed the belt from your struggling fingers. you immediately lurched forward, wiggling your fingers as he held it over his head to keep it from you.

“hey!” you protested, reaching to grab it back from his hands like he took a toy from your sandbox.

“i’m trying to help you, calm down,” he said coldly, waiting for you to put your hands down before he made quick work of the belt.

you frowned, until he returned the belt to you in the perfect shape to slide his wrists in in a matter of seconds. and he did, as soon as you got it in your hands he put his hands through the loops and allowed you to tighten them.

“other way,” he grumbled as you tugged on the wrong side of the strap.

“oh!”

it took a second, but after you completed that task, billy was in perfect position for you. wrists bound together, shirtless laid out on his bed in just his tiny boxers and in no position to protest or fight you. he looked.. unimpressed. his face was blank besides two very irritated eyes. his fists were clenched at his stomach, veins running up the back of his hand and up his forearms.

“you really think this is a good idea, baby? you know i’m not gonna be nice after.”

you rolled your eyes. billy did not like that. every thing you did was just adding to his irritation, building yourself a world of hurt the moment you let him go.

“well, that’s not for you to decide. it’s my turn,” you teased, placing a soft hand on his chest to slide it down. you started rocking your hips back and forth, and billy grunted, winced a little bit. you then stopped, lifting yourself up onto your knees to scoot down to his thighs. billy liked to wear extremely tight, extremely short boxers which left little to imagine in your head, you just had to get a good look at it. your hand had been steadily traveling town his torso until it reached the black fabric, not wasting any time to pull it down to release his thick cock. he was definitely hard, but just had a little more to go. being bound was a total turn off. but he would endure, just for you.

“come on, baby,” he groaned, bucking his hips up to chase your hands. “stroke my cock. i know you wanna.”

you giggled, “right know i really want you to shut up.”

his nostrils flared, his lips pressed to a little pink line with his eyebrows crinkled when you moved your eyes up.

“hey, watch it.”

you shook your head with a mischievous, bright smile.

“you’re bein’ a big baby,” you poked, prodding at his patience with you. “just relax and be quiet.”

he really didn’t want to, but he shut his mouth.

once he did, you rewarded him. grabbed his cock hanging from his boxers in your fist and pumped it once, twice. billy sighed deeply.

“ah, shit, there ya go- good girl,” he groaned as you continued your movements steadily, quickening slightly with each slow stroke. his eyes closed, head falling back with an opened mouth. you twisted your hand around his base and pulled up, repeating this movement over and over again until the vein running up his cock started pulsing blood to his angry tip. beads of white began pooling at the slit at the top, calling for you to run your thumb over it and collect them. you pulled your hand off of him and billy’s eyes snapped open, just to watch the pad of your tongue exit your mouth and steal his pre-cum from your finger. the sight made him groan. he must have tried to reach for your hair like he usually does, but you grabbed the bottom of the belt to keep his hands down. again, he could’ve easily broken free from your grip, but he didn’t, just scrunched up his face and clenched his jaw angrily.

“you’re not being very good, billy,” you said. he wanted to slap that smile off of your face. you were enjoying his torment! how cruel.

“and you’re a shitty dom, sweet girl,” he rebutted, gritting his teeth together.

it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows, the smile falling into a grumpy frown. this was harder than it looked.

“you haven’t even been giving me a chance!” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest.

“you are so lucky this is cute.”

you huffed, let your arms fall to your side. you were getting frustrated, your face turning pink and chest heavy as you took a second to think. he was making sure you knew you were never in charge, even with how hard you try to be. but you were about to use the same exact tricks he used on you to get you to behave. you had to break him eventually, right? and he loved you- would never admit it, but he did- and if you wanted some harmless fun, he wouldn’t deprive you. as long as you stayed nice.

so you did, for the moment. made your way to his calves, sitting back on your heels to lift your shirt off. you had definitely been planning this. billy knew as soon as he saw black lace decorating your breasts. you pawed at them, just to make sure he knew you got to touch and he didn’t, and you saw his tongue lick a stripe on his bottom lip hungrily. you let him stare for a minute, groping yourself and tilting your head back pornographically. it was much better than anything billy had seen in the adult section at family video. you lifted onto your knees to push your shorts down your hips, stepping out of them and sliding them down your heels to discard them on the floor. matching set. he’d rip them off of you when you get done with this little game.

without saying anything to him, just letting him stare and drool as you raised your arms to pull your hair into a ponytail and secure it loosely with the scrunchie you had. he knew what was happening, trying to shimmy down the bed to get closer to you.

“m’not gonna let you come, billy,” you said, frowning and trying to look intimidating.

“oh, you’re not?” billy laughed. “poor me. if only i had a way to do it myself.”

you rolled your eyes. jerk. still, you leaned down, so your knees were holding up your thighs with his legs between them. your hands began at the top of his abs, raking your nails down the mounds of muscle. you caught a tiny hiss from billy at the sting, muscles tensing up under your touch.

“i’m serious, billy. and i’m in charge right now.”

“ah, right. almost forgot,” billy chuckled, bending his elbows to rest his bound hands on his chest. he watched you wrap a hand around his shaft and spit a thick ball of saliva onto his cock. he almost lost it when you lifted your hand up, pulling down the spit and coating the rounded flesh. he was certainly hard now, pulsing and demanding to be touched. he canted his hips up when you lightly squeezed at his base, right up close to his balls, and you had to react quick by removing your hand altogether.

“billy,” you whined, not intending it to be whiney but that was just how it came out. “be still!”

“alright, alright, okay- i’ll be still. just keep goin’, baby.”

you huffed, and then returned your hand around him. he grunted, planted his hips into the mattress and watched as your head lowered, your ass lifting up into the air where he could see the valley in your panties. you began pumping his cock at a slow pace, enough to give you time to take his tip onto your tongue. the smooth skin weighed down in your mouth, anchoring itself and encouraging you to continue to lower your mouth, slowly, staring up at him with pretty eyes.

“ah, fuck,” he groaned, fists clenching into balls as your own fist cupped his. trying to coax the orgasm out of him, you massaged the heavy sack around in your palm as your throat relaxed, taking more of his thick cock into your mouth. he let out a breathy moan, fighting the urge to let his head loll back because he just wanted to watch you take him. you did, took him until you felt him poking at the back of your throat, and then stopped. you weren’t going to give him what he wanted, choke and gag on him as he called you a dirty little girl- and instead just rose up, and then sunk down to the same spot, the other hand not occupied by his balls twisting at his base. you repeated this at a painfully slow pace, slow enough to make him growl and let a small pool of drool in the corner of his mouth develop.

“come on, baby, gimme more than that,” he said, but you couldn’t tell if it was a plea or a demand.

you pulled off of him, a long trail of slick, murky spit connecting him to you. “what do you say?”

billy scoffed, heaving and grinding up into your palm. “i’m not gonna fuckin- ask you,” he grunted.

you shrugged, loosening your soft hold on him with the very intent of walking away altogether.

“okay then. guess i’ll just-“

“okay! okay, jesus fucking christ, you brat. please.”

good enough. you’ll take it.

you smiled in victory, happily gripping his cock to continue pumping at his base. your tongue licked at his tip, swiping up all of the pearly beads that had returned, like he was sweet candy. and then you lowered onto him, opening up wide to accommodate his girth. he groaned, spitting out a string of curses. it just egged you on further to get him off, sucking down on him and smoothing your tongue over every inch you could get, cycling your head up and down and picking up a gradual speed. his groans increased, belly rising and falling at an elevated speed as you fucked him with your sweet mouth.

you lapped at his cock, trying to suck him dry for all it was worth while you still had him there. your jaw was slack, but billy was thick enough where if you weren’t careful, your teeth grazed against him and let you know with a hiss and a broken groan. you’d never seen billy so vulnerable in bed, fighting against bucking his hips up to lodge into your throat, hands to himself. he usually couldn’t keep them off of you. instead, they were clenched at his chest, wrists connected with brown leather. he was sweating when you looked up at him through your eyelashes, releasing his girth just to lick and suck all around his cock. your lips connected to the side of his length, the opposite hand holding him still and pressing the meaty shaft against your tongue. his lips were wide open as he panted, his belly rising and falling rapidly.

you were making a show of it, messy as possible. spit catching on your chin and surrounding your swollen lips as the pink muscle in your mouth extruded to lick a long, heavy stripe all the way up to the heavy crown of his cock. you engulfed his length with wet heat, tongue cupping him as you slid down, and down until your nose was buried in dark, curly hair, seemingly far more kept than the hair on his head. trimmed perfectly to pillow your face when he was shoved down your throat.

“god damnit, fuck- just like that,” he murmured, voice grating and low enough you could feel it on your tongue. he started to get close after a while, especially when you took your hand off of his shaft and paired it with your other one on his balls, moving and massaging the skin in unison. his moans started to get louder, and you knew you won when he started to grumble and fuss, “fuck, fuck- gonna cum, baby-“

and so you stopped. pulled off of him completely, panting yourself and wiping the mess off of your chin with a smile. billy went still, screwing his eyes shut for a quick second before his jaw tensed up, his bite hard enough to bite through leather as his eyes opened, blue eyes clouded and fucking dark. something was swirling in them, an anger you had never seen from him. his face was hot, you could feel it radiating from the feet between you. he was pissed.

“what the fuck was that?” he asked, way too calmly for your liking. it was eerie.

“oh, i’m sorry, did i do something?” you responded ‘innocently,’ lifting onto your knees and scooting up to sit on his hips, just above his cock.

“ohhh, you are going to fucking regret that.”

you hummed, “mmmh, i dont think i am. i told you exactly what i was gonna do.”

“you goddamn bitch,” billy spat, shaking his head. he was so hard by now it hurt. he felt lightheaded, all of the blood and adrenaline filling up his length. “i am never letting you-“

“- be a good boy, billy. i’ll give you what you want if you’re good,” you interrupted, reaching up to pinch his cheek playfully before it abandoned his skin.

“i swear to god-“

“i wouldn’t have had to if you had just listened to me!“ you retorted. you scooted up his torso to slot perfectly onto his chest, his slightly bent knees keeping you holstered.

“you are being such a brat. did you just want my attention? because you sure as hell got it,” he snapped.

“no!” you exclaimed, eyebrows narrowing together and the corners of your lips tensing down. “i just wanted to try something new. and you decided to be a bad boy.”

“fuck, (y/n). just fucking untie me.”

“mm-mh. you’re gonna be a good boy and let me finish!” you argued, hand reaching to grab at his chin, which he immediately turned away from you to avoid. it worked in your favor. you didnt know what came over you, but you must have channeled billy in that moment- or all of the frustration billy gave you.

“i am not. fucking bitch, i-“

he got cut off.

a smack sounded through the room. and then silence. just the heavy sound of both of your breathing. billy just saw red, far redder than the red on his cheek from where your hand had landed. you had slapped him. not hard, of course, but enough to lock in your death sentence. it was silent. an eerie silence besides his heavy breathing as your face fell when his tightened.

“d’you just fuckin’ hit me?” he deadpanned, quietly, barely above a whisper. it was rhetoric.

you nodded, clueless.

“undo the belt,” he demanded, growling like an animal.

“i’m not gonna do that.”

“fine, jesus!” he snapped, reaching his own hands up to his mouth. you watched, frozen in place as his teeth sunk into the leather to pull it apart, loosening until he could throw it aside and off of his wrists. he didn’t waste any time. he had you pinned down in a matter of seconds, hands pinned down with a tight grip, tattooing your skin with a red handprint. you stared up at him with big eyes, wiggling around and trying to rid him of yourself like he was some sort of spider catching you in his web.

“you think you can just fuckin’ hit me?“ billy barked, taking both of your wrists into one hand so he could roughly grip your face in the other. his hands were big; he could cover a good bit of your chin and cheeks like this, and he abused that power by squishing your cheeks and making your lips pout out pathetically, helplessly.

“i just-“

“no, i don’t wanna hear shit from you, unless it’s an apology, or yes sir.”

he squeezed your cheeks harder, wiggled your face side to side as you stared up at him as struggled with your wrists and his grasp. “you shoulda quit while it was still cute babygirl, but you had to be a dumb slut.”

his voice was rough, small bits of spit flying onto your face and making you jump.

“you really thought you could be in control of me? look at you,” he laughed darkly, “you’re fucking pathetic.”

“m’sorry, billy!” you squeaked out, having a hard time moving your mouth much with his hold.

it quickly left as soon as it came, leaving your face for only a split second before it laid itself back down on you harshly. it your face with enough strength to make your head fall the opposite way. you cried out, tears immediately collecting in a sheer bubble over your eyes.

“hey,” he barked, smacking you again with a heavy palm after nudging your face to the center with his knuckle. “don’t you-“ another slap. “- fucking do that. cut it out.”

you wailed each time, mouth hung open while you let your head rest forward, now bracing one side of your face. tears streamed down your cheeks with each hit, the force sending the droplets flying.

“i’m sorry, billy,” you sniffled, tugging your wrists in his hold. “i was just trying-“

“shut up.” he bit, releasing your hands just to be able to slap the other side of your face. he pushed himself up onto his knees, running a frustrated hand through his curls. it made his tricep flex, thick muscle made for throwing you around.

“up on your knees, baby.”

you whined, struggled to sit up because of how shaky you were, so billy helped you out by gripping your hips and making sure you were steady on your knees in front of him, black lace panties completely on display for him. he continued to grab your wrists again, effectively shoving your face down into the mattress with a cry. he held your forearms together at your back, pulling you flush against his cock, the thin fabric allowing you to feel his hard length against you.

“you feel that?”

“mm-hmm.”

“s’that what you wanted, baby? you just wanted my cock?”

“y-yes sir,” you whined, setting your hips back. he caught them in his hands, keeping you still where you were placed. he gave your ass a hard slap for good measure, the outline of his hand appearing on your skin as you mewled out, your fists tensing into themselves until your nails dug into your palm.

“don’t be greedy, brat. you get what you deserve,” billy spat, laying his hand down on the residue of his slap and squeezing hard.

“was gonna be nice, too,” he grumbled, reaching to the side to grab the discarded belt. “let you have your fun. but you just had to get ahead of yourself, nasty girl.”

while he was speaking, he had grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up with no support, just his hand bunched in your hair keeping you up. you whined again, your scalp burning as he gripped the roots. he snaked around your shoulder, gripping at your throat tightly as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“you really sorry yet?”

you nodded, humming yes as best as you could.

“look at me,” he snarled. “look at me and tell me.”

your eyes snapped to the corners of your eyes so you could look at him, billy tugging your hair at an angle so you were uncomfortably craned to see his angry face.

“m’so sorry, billy-“ you sniffled.

“tell me you’re a bad girl.”

you frowned. not cool.

“i’m-.. i’m a bad girl,” you whimpered. it was better to do what he told you than to fight it- billy could get meaner, you knew better.

“much better. see how easy it is?”

you nodded quickly. you looked like a scared little puppy, eyes bright and big and eyebrows high on your face.

“words, (y/n),” he grumbled.

“yes sir- uh-huh.”

it was billy’s turn to nod in acceptance of your obedience.

“would have been so much better if you just-“ a heavy palm laid down on your ass, where you realized all you had to support you now was his clutch on your throat. “-behaved, but what more could i expect from you?”

his fingers dug into the sides of your neck, squeezing roughly until he was sure your vision got fuzzy. billy leaned in close to you, lips pressing against your ear.

“was this your plan? piss me off so i treat you like a whore?” he spat.

“no sir- was just playin’ around,” you choked out, your head beginning to feel like it was full of air. tears returned in your eyes.

“ohh, playing around,” he repeated in a mocking tone, gripping the flesh on your hip tightly with his free hand. it slid down, over the curve of your ass and squeezing the doughy skin in the process. he cupped your hot cunt, chuckling when he felt the wet warmth rub against his palm.

“you’re soaked, pretty girl. gettin’ off by getting put in your place.”

billy let go of your throat, pressing at your chest to keep you up while he wrapped the belt you used on him around the placement of his missing hand. he slid the end through the buckle, sliding it all the way down until the metal hit the back of your neck and tailed a good enough length for him to pull at like a leash. and then he pushed you down,sending your torso falling onto the mattress to your original position, forcing a wail from your air-deprived self. the hand that occupied your neck pressed against your cheek, shoving you into the mattress further as a couple tears ran down to leave little droplets in his sheets. he hadn’t told you to, but your arms stayed at your back, fingers stuck to the opposite elbow to keep them from moving.

“god, baby,” he snarled, framing your sides with his big hands to press your hidden hole against the mighty head of his cock. you squealed, screwing your eyes shut to distract yourself. “hurts me more than it does you. just wanted my good, sweet little girl.”

he slapped your ass, the side neglected from his attacks, hard enough to sound a sharp, loud vibration to wave through the room that mixed with your choked sob. and then again. and again, and again, and several more times for good measure. all while tugging at his makeshift-leash on you, making sure to abuse both sides of you as you writhed and cried out various apologies and curses. it stung. a lot. a cold sting that morphed into a flame, every slap hurting more than the last one. but it was a good hurt. a hurt you would happily accept from billy’s palm, regardless of your disobedience or not.

he eventually took pity on you and your reddened skin, nearing the purple side of the color wheel and passed the black fabric over the colors, down your thighs. it bundled at your bent knees, and billy caught the fabric underneath his knees as he loomed behind you. he pulled on the belt especially hard.

“you’re not gonna cum until i tell you to. got it?”

“yessir, mhm.” you nodded rapidly, tear painted cheek scraping against his blue sheets. you could’ve cum from just a little stimulation at that point, but you were determined to follow his rules and earn back your spot on his good side.

with a loud grunt, billy shoved himself into you, reaching your limit in one move. you moaned out, a pathetic moan that someone could’ve mistaken for a cry of pain.

“fuck, holy shit,” he groaned. “for such a nasty girl, you have got the best goddamn pussy.”

your walls clenched around him, greedily swallowing his cock in as if he could get further. you whined, whimpered, mumbling out sounds of, “ggghh,” and “ohhh,” and other weak sounds that billy ate up whole. he stayed there for a long minute, just soaking in your slick pussy lodged between puffy lips crying out of relief. he tugged on the leather, pulling you back to stay locked onto his cock. he fastened it low enough on your neck to cut off your air flow, but not enough to damage you. not that it made it any more comfortable, but he didn’t exactly care about that. he wanted to hurt you. he was an animal- grunting and growling as he kept his cock stuffed in you, basking in the way you cried for mercy.

he stayed there for several minutes, occasionally loosening his grip on the leather and giving you enough time to pant and gasp for air. you had drooled onto his sheets, spit dribbling down your chin from the corners of your lips. your head was completely empty besides the pure instinct to please him- and that was by letting him fuck you like some toy that only existed for him to use.

“billy, billy please- please, move- m’so, so sorry,” you cried, digging your forehead into the blue cloth below you.

billy choked out a breathy laugh. your pleas became a chant, a prayer hymn for billy to eat up and form some pity for you. it must’ve worked, and for a second you thought there was a god. he slid out of you, slowly, stretching you wide to the point where his length enlarged, and then rammed back into you, deep and rough. you mewled, crying a curse that left your mouth hung open wide enough to catch a spider. he repeated his actions, somehow hitting a spot even deeper in you by pulling you back by the hip. his filled balls slapped against your clit, ready to be emptied dry inside you. he worked into a steady, rough pace, deep and slow and tugging on the belt end opposite to him.

“hurts me- shit- much more than it hurts you, baby. god, just wanted my good girl,” billy’s voice rumbled, breathless and vibrating in his throat. his head fell back in a moan as you milked him, clenched around him to keep him from leaving.

he started to speed up, erratic and filthy, an uneven pace that drove you crazy in the form of a long wail, filled with pleasure and relief and the impure urge to be ruined.

“mmh- thank you, thank you!” you squeaked. your nails were digging into your elbows which were pressed into the crevices in your back. billy’s seize on your hip was bruising, a reminder that he was the one controlling your pleasure and torment. he continued at a bruising pace, sending sparks screeching through your veins like wheels on a train track. it almost hurt, if it wasn’t overthrown by the pleasure he was providing in abundance. he could feel your heartbeat, and swore he could see himself poke through the membrane of your belly when he thrusted in hard. you were getting off from it, too, he could just feel how your core got tense, like all of the rushing, angry water beating against a dam wall, searching for the tiniest crack to bleed through.

“touch yourself,” he barked, low and angry. “if you wanna cum, get there yourself.”

you knew he was serious, and a hot flash of fear stabbed at you. your fingers basically teleported to your swollen clit, yelping out as your middle finger trailed around the little pleasure-machine. it felt good, too good, with billy attacking every single nerve and it being magnified by your fingers. you couldn’t last long. you heard the slapping of skin, the sharp sounds highlighting how the back of your thighs burned from billy’s own flesh rebounding off of it. he loved the way the meat of your bottom recoiled and bounced with his thrusts, thighs open with a shaky hand lodged between them. he didn’t love how slow your fingers were, though.

“do i gotta do it my fuckin’ self? my god, you’re useless,” he chortled cruelly. his hand reached in between your thighs, the pads of his middle and pointer finger immediately snapping to abuse your aching clit. it coaxed a loud, very embarrassing shout from you, just barely muffling it by shoving your face into his bed.

“ah- billy! too much, slow down!” you sputtered, stammering in between moans and cries. your hands were about to support your body by resting on either side of your head, but billy let go of your little leash he made to grab your forearms, glueing them together so you couldn’t go anywhere unless he allowed you to. by that point he was rubbing your bud fervently, a clear goal in his head at your expense. he would tell you that this was for his pleasure, but it was almost painful how erotic this all was for billy. jackhammering into you like he had nothing to lose as you panted and cried like a dog, collar and all. you were shaking, writhing, pushing your hips back slightly every time he slammed into you. it was filthy, sweat and drool and tears.

“oh, it’s too much? oh, i’m so sorry. poor fuckin’ thing,” he explicitly lied, jesting and definitely humiliating. he responded to your complaint by just going harder, staying at the same pace with his thrusts but amplifying their force. his fingers circled your clit like he was trying to start a fire. in a matter of seconds, he felt you squeezing his cock, fluttering tightly to try and fight your pummeling release. he slowed down then, remaining at a force that let him brush up against your cervix, but now lingering there for seconds at a time. every time he pulled out, he pulled out almost all the way until your heat tried to squeeze and swallow him back in, just to jam right back into you.

billy was heaving, grunting like a beast as he gripped your leash and pulled you onto your knees, slotting his chin on your shoulder as he wrapped a strong arm around your waist to hold you up. he left the belt taut, cinching your throat and forcing you to angle your head back onto him.

“don’t even think about it,” he snarled right into your ear, hot breath fanning over your neck. he laid a loud, booming hit to the side of your thigh, making you jolt forward and, in result, choke yourself. “you are going to wait.”

“yes sir- m’sorry sir,” you sobbed, nodding, sniffling and moaning when he anchored himself inside you. you could feel him everywhere, all throughout your stomach and abs, and you made it worse when you clenched down on him to create a border for your threatening release.

“tell me how sorry you are,” he huffed.

“so sorry!” you whined. “m’so sorry for- fuck, being a brat- just- just wanted your a-attention, oh my god.”

“yeah? d’you get what you wanted?”

you nodded, as best as you could. “uh-huh- fuckin’ me so good. never gonna brat a-again!”

it was getting incredibly hard to hold it. like, impossibly hard. he knew. released your leash to claw at your hips to quicken to a brutal pace. he heard you cry out, moaning like some whore to the point of shouting.

“you are such a goddamn slut, you know that?” billy rumbled, slithering between your thighs once again to rub your sensitive pearl. he laughed breathily when you mewled, basically howling at this point.

“yes sir! yes sir, i’m a slut- please, please let me cum-“

“oh, honey,” he mocked, nipping at the side of your sweaty neck. he growled through gritted teeth when he spoke, failing at balancing talking with huffing angrily through his nose like a bull. “fuck, m’gonna cum in you. fill you up.”

his hold on your hip tightened, definitely planning to leave a red handprint when he was done with you.

“you want that?” he asked, gravely and with a cruel grin. “beg me. ask me to cum in you.”

“please!” you yelped immediately. “please, cum in me- wanna be full so bad. please, billy..”

he buried his nose into your shoulder, and you could feel his heavy breath ridden with the warm scent of lust run down your back.

“please, please please,” you chanted, your own voice a husk of the phony confidence it once displayed. your face was squeezed together, cheeks protruding up high. the crevices on your forehead deepened, catching the sweat that formed. “need it so bad. m’your bad girl, please-“

he liked that. he liked it a whole lot. so much he just had to reward you by angling himself back a tad, just to slam into your g-spot and ensure you wouldn’t last long.

“you are my bad girl, aren’t you, baby?” he repeated, chuckling from the back of his throat. “you wanna cum?”

you nodded rapidly, raising your voice to mousey shout. “yes! yes, please- let me cum, please!”

“tell me you’re sorry, one more time.”

tears streamed down your face. you turned as best you could to look at him, give him the saddest doe eyes you could. there was sweat drenching the hair just past your forehead, tears mixing with spit on your chin and jaw. your cheeks were hot, burning red.

“i’m so, so sorry billy.”

he didn’t even get to finish the word before you were cumming around his thick cock. clenching down, biting, trying to milk him dry as your body imploded on itself. everything went white for a second, and you thought jesus himself would come down and give you a fist bump for literally being fucked to death. your toes and fingers were tingly, releasing the tight flex they had been posed in. one final, loud cry erupted from you, a big firework to mark your release in time. you were floating for that quick second, eyes rolling to the back of your head to where you could see billy in your head, smirking behind you, grunting and growling.

when you came to, he was still going at it. pounding into you, but now he had released your leash to wrap his bicep around your throat, choking you just enough to keep you there with him. he was huffing and puffing, going at a speed you never thought you would see billy move at. he was always so cool, even when he was angry he moved slowly, calculating his every move to get what he wanted. but at that moment, he was fucking you like some woodland beast, a folktale used to scare catholic children into obedience. you would have thought he was planning on devouring you whole.

his fingers were still working your clit, sending you sputtering and pleading for him to slow down, none of which was coherent or important. everything was so sensitive, every touch and movement a fuse that quickly lit into a fire on every inch of your insides.

“too much! too much, billy!” you sobbed, ripping your hands from your back to claw at his forearm.

“i will- fuck, fuck- i’ll tell you when it’s too much,” he bellowed.

you were full on crying at that point, the pleasure just too much to handle in your humanly body. it was so intense, but you just couldn’t pull yourself away from him. you couldn’t fight it.

it was only a couple more minutes before his thrusting became erratic, uneven and extremely sloppy. slowed down just a tad and used his arm to angle your chin towards him, so he could messily connect your lips in a hungry, feral kiss. if it could even be considered that. it was just spit and teeth and a little bit of tongue, with billy doing most of the work as your body fought to settle all of the sensations. he slammed into you once, twice, three times, before he buried his big cock into you as far as he could. you wailed, letting out a noise that mimicked that of an injured cat, but you were the exact opposite of injured. it felt like it wasn’t supposed to be there, but felt so perfect at the same time. you had never been fuller. especially when you felt a warmth, a wetness, coat your insides in a slick filth and drip down your cunt. he moaned deeply, whined a little bit, and burrowed his nose into your neck.

you were still whining, crying and wiggling against him until he slowly slid out of you. you stayed still, not knowing what he wanted you to do, as he pressed on your lower back to push you down into your starting position, where your palms pressed down on the sheets on either side of your head. your body felt numb now, weak and unable to move, but you couldn’t tell if that was because you didn’t want to.

“god, look at you,” billy said roughly, grabbing your ass and spreading you apart to watch his cum drip out of you, slide down your thighs and run down your puffy lips. he smacked you, a smack much less harsher than the ones before but still made you jolt forward and yelp. your ass was basically bruised, a dark, deep flushed color and nearing the purple stage.

you just cried more when he collected as much of his cum as he could that buried into your cunt, and then pushed it back inside you with two of his fingers.

“billy! billy, please, too sensitive!” you squealed.

“oh, baby,” he cooed. “you didn’t think i was done with ya, did you?”

#stranger things fic #stranger things smut #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x reader smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x you smut #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x reader smut

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famwhy · 10 months

Text

Right Way Up (02)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: Sorry for the wait, my loves, but here's Eddie, Steve, and Billy to make it up to you 💕

prev part. masterlist. next part.

02. bring unto me vanity

enter: billy hargrove

YOU stood there, expression blank as you stared mindlessly into the Eddie Munson. It almost felt as though all your thoughts had left you the moment you bumped into him—flooding out in an endless, blank stream of nothingness you couldn't even begin to comprehend.

Then—not even seconds later—it all came rushing back.

Scenes of him lying in a pool of his own crimson, straining as he told Dustin about how he didn't run away—how he wasn't a coward for once. Scenes of the town believing he was some sort of satanic worshipper—vandalising his missing posters with pentagrams after he had just died protecting them. Scenes of Dustin informing Eddie's uncle of his noble death with tears streaming down his face; unrelenting in their cruel pace.

Scenes that always shot straight through your heart no matter how many times you rewatched them.

"Woah, hey, are you o—?"

You couldn't help it—the way you flew into his chest, arms wrapping around his back in a hug so tight—so inextricably emotional—that even the most affectionate of lovers, the most intimate of partners, would envy your outpour of emotions in that one embrace.

You couldn't help it because—because he was here. And he was okay. And he was alive—oh god, he was alive.

"Wha—?"

And apparently, he was also confused.

Get it together, Y/N. What kind of weirdo randomly throws themselves onto a stranger like that?

But he wasn't a stranger though, he was a character you had watched and grown attached to on screen; a beloved character you had witnessed die over and over again without being able to do a single thing about it.

But, a small voice prodded in the back of your mind, maybe you could do something now?

"Are you... okay?"

You blinked, further scattering a wet substance across your eyelashes. "Oh, yeah, um... it's just that—"

You didn't deserve to die, Eddie.

"—well, everyone is always so mean to you and— they're always like, calling you a freak just because you like playing a fantasy, role-playing game and it's just— it's so unfair because you seem like such a nice guy who doesn't deserve any of the shit that you get and I'm just— I'm so sorry!"

Ah, maybe you let out a little too much there, judging by the way he reacted.

His mouth had hung open, brown eyes wide in what you could only describe as disbelief, bewilderment and utter, utter shock.

For a moment, you were worried that you had accidentally made him malfunction or something; maybe said some type of dialogue that he couldn't compute and, therefore, couldn't respond to—like some sort of unaware NPC being told that they weren't real—which, in a way, is quite similar to his actual circumstance anyhow.

But then, to your utter surprise, he spoke again; in a tone that seemed light, almost—playful, even—"woah, uh, you always psychoanalyse people when you first meet?"—but... there was a waver in his voice, a vulnerability breaking through.

And you knew; you knew he was trying so hard not to let it break through.

Oh Eddie...

"No, sorry, uh—" you cut yourself off, pulling away to rest your arms against your sides, to really look him in the eyes as you offered, "—do you want to be friends?"

"Woah, hold up, Y/N L/N, the Y/N L/N—the Queen of Hawkins High herself—"

Queen of Hawkins High? You knew you were popular but—Queen? Damn.

"—is asking me, Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, if I want to be her friend?"

His words ushered the corners of your lips down and you felt that familiar constricting feeling in your heart again. "Don't call yourself a freak, Eddie. You're not. Please don't ever refer to yourself that way."

Cue the look of absolute astonishment making its way back onto his face.

"I uh—"

"Please, Eddie." Your fingers intertwined, eyes widening in what you hoped—prayed—was a look that resembled irresistible puppy dog eyes—

"Well, how the hell am I meant to deny you when you give me that look, sweetheart?"

—and resemble them it did.

"So, does that mean—?"

He smirked. "Yes, Queenie, I'll be your friend."

The voice at the back of your mind was louder now, hope swirling together with mere hypothetical scenarios to grant you a vision—a world in which Eddie survived the bat attack he was subjected to in season 4; a world in which you saved him.

And hey, if you were lucky, maybe you'd be able to protect him from all the awful bullying he was a victim of as well. Lord knew he didn't deserve it.

"So, would you mind me sitting in on one of your DnD campaigns?"

He blinked, looking confused for what was probably the nth time. "You know what DnD is?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I, uh, know someone who plays it. I mentioned it just now, remember? Definitely not a game that encourages satanism."

A bubble of laughter left his lips—and you swore you felt a swirl of warmth gather in your chest—his pretty eyes crinkling up as he said, "yeah, it definitely isn't." Then, his hand rose up to the back of his neck before he continued, albeit awkwardly, "I uh, actually have one today after school, if you wanna..?"

He trailed off but you knew what he was about to ask—and so—smiled at him as you confirmed, "I would love to."

"Great!" He beamed—rather cutely, if you did say so yourself—before immediately faltering, and soon, his hand was back on his neck. "We should probably head to English, huh?"

So you shared your next lesson together? Sweet. Saved you the hassle of running around like a headless chicken trying to find your class.

You let Eddie lead the way, following behind him with a pep in your step as you passed by doors upon doors, each looking just as beat-up as the last—but you were too over-the-moon to criticise their condition.

Perhaps the reason you were so happy was because you genuinely befriended a super nice, super fun guy that you always wanted to talk to when watching the show. Perhaps it was because you knew you had a shot at saving him; at giving him another chance to live in this fictional world. Either way, your mood had definitely lifted and for that, you were grateful—

"Munson, L/N, you two are late."

—until, of course, you weren't.

Having arrived at class, you were met with a chorus of gasps sent your way, almost every single jaw dropping to the floor as soon as their eyes landed on you and your companion.

The lady in front of you had her arms crossed over her busty chest, eyes narrowed specifically at one of the two of you and said person seemed to be very aware of it.

Eddie parted his lips, a grin manifesting on his face as he seemed to gear himself up for some sort of speech; one that would never get to leave his lips—at least, not on your watch.

"Sorry, miss, I held him up a little." Your lips stretched into a sheepish smile as you shrugged.

Not bothering to hear what she had to say—because why would you?—you made your way over to one of the empty seats at the back. There was another one in the middle of the room—one surrounded by broad-shouldered kids all adorning the same, bright varsity jackets—but, you would much rather be taking the seat away from them.

Besides, the back seat had an empty one right next to it.

As soon as your thighs landed on the smooth—yet highly uncomfortable—surface of the wooden chair, you tilted your head up, eyes meeting with the sweet character you were just walking with, before one of your hands rose up and gestured towards the other empty seat right next to you.

Another gawk. Another chorus of dramatic gasps.

Oh my God, it's not that big a deal.

"Well, Mister Munson? Will you be taking your seat or will you keep holding the whole class up?"

Snickers; mocking and malevolent in their nature—all bouncing off the walls of the room and into your ears, edging your lips down.

It didn't seem to bother Eddie though, who only let out his own sheepish chuckle before making his way down the row of beaten desks to the empty one beside you.

Your lips twitched back up, then he opened his mouth—"you weren't kidding about wanting to be my friend, huh?"—and you found them twitching down once again.

"Of course not, Eddie. I'm not that—"

A new voice abruptly cut you off. "Ahem. Now where was I?"

You couldn't speak for the remainder of the class, but that didn't stop you from communicating with Eddie regardless. All you had to do was rip out a page from your notepad, write a quick 'I meant what I said', scrunch it up and throw it his way.

You had then propped your head up on your hand, elbow resting on the bumpy table as you leaned forward to really gauge his reaction. The goofy way his lips had tugged up was very much infectious and you smiled as he furiously scribbled back a response before sneaking a quick glance at you—one that resulted in him freezing up, eyes widening and pink rushing to his cheeks in a way that was so cute, you couldn't help but widen your smile.

His blush grew deeper.

He was quick to pull himself back together though, and soon, the rest of the lesson was filled with the two of you tossing that same, crinkled sheet of paper back and forth—each time filling it with more and more ink as small giggles bubbled out of your mouths; childish and carefree with a hint of awe. You felt like a middle schooler all over again—it was nice, it was fun—

—so fun, in fact, that time passed by like a flash of lightning and, before you even knew it, a 'brrring!' rang through the air; one that had you rushing over to Eddie's side, ready to accompany him out the door. Were you being a little clingy? Maybe. But it was the Eddie Munson, who wouldn't be clingy?

"Oh wow, being waited on by a queen, boy do I feel special," his words were accompanied by a light tone you'd heard many a time over the TV, one you absolutely adored.

"You should feel special. You're awesome, Eddie. I'll stop at nothing until you realise that."

He paused again, that pink colour from earlier returning to reign terror on his cheeks once more.

What a cutie.

You watched as he continued packing the remainder of his stuff in his bag, eyes trained on the glint of his solid-metal rings that would disappear and reappear from behind the rough cotton. Damn, how did they make him look so much more attractive?

Eddie was really attractive, you had no idea how no one in the school seemed to notice. The way his bouncy, brown curls framed his face—perfectly complimenting that pretty pair of eyes he was so lucky to have; the way he would exaggerate his hand gestures like a true drama queen—playfully joking about with a charm that seemed signature to him; the way he always seemed to—

"Uh, ready to go?"

You blinked. "Huh? Oh yeah."

How long had he been standing there with his bag slung over his shoulder?

"So, sweetheart, I was thinking... for DnD later, do you wanna join in or, uh, just sit and watch?"

"Oh, well, I'm not too—"

A pang; shot straight through your arm like a bullet—and all of a sudden, your whole body jerked to the side, eyes landing on a pair of brown ones; different to the ones you were just staring into.

The very pair of brown eyes that had been the first ones to greet you in this world.

"Ack! Steve!"

He was frowning, brows furrowed and eyes filled with so much dejection, you found yourself wanting to do nothing more than wrap him up in a loving hug and tell him he was worth the whole world.

"N/N," his voice came out soft, afraid, "what was that earlier? Did I... do something? Whatever it was, I'm sorry, please don't avoid me."

Dear lord, was he whimpering?

"No! Steve! No, no, no, no," you frantically shook your head from side-to-side, mentally beating yourself up for making him upset, "I just— I overreacted because of my arm."

One more cute, inquisitive stare from him and you finally broke. Damn his puppy dog eyes, was this how Eddie felt when you used them on him?

With a light sigh, your fingers found their way down the sleeve of your jacket, slowly bunching the material up to reveal the graying gauze underneath—yikes, looked like it was due for a change.

"Gah!"

Another tug—on your wrist this time—had you tumbling forward, almost smacking straight into Steve's chest had you not planted your feet and caught yourself in time.

He was so close—you could feel his breath on the bare skin of your arm, feel the warmth that radiated off his form. The proximity was almost causing you to lose focus in your vision, colours blending in to create blobs of indecipherable objects.

It didn't seem to bother him though, judging by the way his eyes stayed trained onto your bandages—not straying from them for even a second. Ever the caring one.

"What happened?"

"Oh, uh, just a wolf attack. It's nothing really."

"It's not nothing—" he finally looked up, gazing straight into your eyes with that familiar sense of concern given to you at the start of the day, and the day you arrived—you know? the one that never failed to give you a plethora of butterflies in your stomach? "—you're hurt. That could never be nothing."

Your breath was stolen from you for a few moments—unfairly and unlawfully—but soon, with a shake of your head, it (along with your vision) was seized once more. "Steve. I'm okay, really."

"At least let me take you to each class, please."

Well, when he put it like that—

But, in all seriousness, this was the perfect temporary solution to your problem and you were being handed it on a silver platter thanks to Steve. If you two really were as close as everyone claimed you to be, then Steve would definitely have your timetable memorised, meaning you wouldn't have to arise further suspicion by asking for a physical copy.

And have it memorised, he did. The rest of the day, he accompanied you to every class, looming behind you like a bodyguard and flat-out refusing to let you carry your stuff. Even when lunch came around and another pair of pompoms came to grab you, Steve was there to shut her down, not even giving you a chance to consider going to practice. Not that you would—you weren't stupid.

Soon, the end of the day rolled around and Steve was stood at the doorframe of your class, muscled arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wood with one foot crossed over the other.

"Let me drive you home."

You paused, hand frozen mid-air with a book slotted between your fingers. "It's okay, Cain's picking me—"

Just then, a thought occurred to you, and your mind dragged you back to your conversation in the early morning.

("I uh, actually have one today after school, if you wanna..?")

"—up..."

Oh shit, Eddie.

The book in your hand was inside your bag within milliseconds and you were right out the door in even less time than that, Steve's body having been slightly pushed aside in your haste.

"Woah, what's going—?"

You turned back around abruptly, almost causing him to bump into you had he not halted in time. "Do you know where Hellfire is?"

"Hellfire? That cult club?"

Your eye twitched. "It's not a cult—and I need to speak to Eddie."

His brows furrowed and his lips tugged down, expression shifting with an emotion you didn't have the time to decipher. "Eddie as in Eddie Munson? Super Senior Eddie Munson? Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?"

"He's not a freak, don't call him that." You narrowed your eyes before continuing, "and yeah, I mean Eddie Munson. So do you know where he is?"

"Why do you wanna know where Munson is?"

"I need to talk to him, Steve, now can you tell me where Hellfire is or not?"

"Are you sure? I mean, that kid sells some real serious shit and I don't want you—"

"Steve." Your arms folded over one another and you gave him the best stern look you could muster.

Luckily, it seemed to do the trick, and soon, he let out a large breath before briskly walking forward.

You blinked, watching as his back shrank with each step.

"You coming or what?"

Then, your lips stretched into a grin. "Coming! Thanks, Stevie!"

He didn't respond—and you could have been imagining it—but, your ears seemed to have picked up on a hitch in his throat.

Cute.

Steve led the way and you passed by a multitude of bland, white lockers—or well, meant to be white, they were obviously going grey with age though—before you found yourself standing in front of yet another tall, wooden door.

You rose a fist... and lightly knocked on it three times.

A muffled shout greeted you; a sign to open the door, probably.

Palm rested against the cold surface of the knob, you twisted your wrist and gently pushed against the weight of the wood.

A multitude of chairs, each one seating a wide-eyed member of the rejected club, with one specific throne placed at the head of a rather long table—Eddie's seat.

Speaking of the club leader, his arms stretched out the moment you peeked through the gap. "Miss Queen Bee! How nice of you to join us!"

You didn't even pay mind to the many gawks sent your way, practically used to it all by now.

"Hey Eddie!" You beamed and he smiled with just as much enthusiasm—though you swore you heard a growl coming from behind you. "I'm so sorry! I know I said I'd join you guys for this campaign but I completely forgot about my brother coming to pick me up! I'm so so so so sorry! I promise I'll join you next time!"

His shoulders sagged and he practically deflated, smile faltering as his eyes dimmed in lighting. It was only for a few seconds though, not even that long honestly, and soon, he was sending a gentle smile full of so much understanding your way—you almost flew over to give him another huge hug of utmost gratitude.

"It's okay, I get it. See you tomorrow?" His brows rose up and his eyes swirled with a sense of hopefulness you could never bring yourself to shut down.

"Of course," you spoke softer, eyes losing any hint of a sharp edge as you addressed him, "see you tomorrow!"

His smile was back, bright and blinding as ever—but before you could enjoy it any longer, your arm was tugged on and another pang shot through.

"Ack! Steve, seriously?!" You looked his way just in time to catch his furrowed brows and heavy frown, but his expression quickly shifted from one of fury to one of panic.

Wait... fury?

"Shit. Sorry, I completely forgot." He quickly took his hand off your arm in lieu of placing it on your shoulder, any hints of that previous expression now completely gone.

Did you just... imagine it?

"We should go, your brother's probably waiting for you."

"Yeah, uh—" you placed your hand over his own, brows furrowed and expression not all there, "—let's go."

Well that was confusing.

It wasn't long after your puzzling interaction that you found the grey, beat-down truck belonging to your eldest brother—parked up near the front of the school building with few vehicles nearby.

He was sat behind the wheel, elbow rested against the open window and used cig between his two fingers—still leaking the toxic gas youth in the 80s seemed to be so obsessed with.

"I'm guessing you wanna take her to school again, huh Harrington?"

Not wasting a second, your best friend nodded.

"Well, you never failed me before so I guess it's fine. If she's okay with it, of course."

Steve, once again, gave you those big, pleading eyes and—c'mon—how the hell do you refuse that?

"'Course it's fine with me, Stevie."

His lips quirked up and his eyes brightened much like Eddie's had earlier—though, unlike Eddie, Steve opted to go farther when expressing his delight.

How far? Well, his arms had wrapped themselves around your waist and you found yourself being pulled into a warm, sturdy chest—so, that far, you guessed.

You weren't quite... used to receiving affection so frequently—especially by a male friend. Though, judging by how naturally it seemed to come to Steve, he was normally quite touchy with you.

Now, you didn't particularly mind it, it was just... foreign to you—but, with time, you would definitely grow used to it. Besides, it was Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, who wouldn't want a daily hug from him?

"Alright, you two, break it up." Cain narrowed his eyes. "Don't think I don't see those wandering hands, Harrington. Don't you have a girlfriend?"

A particularly loud noise—that sounded like someone clearing their throat—came from beside you. It was followed by a sudden breeze against your waist and the following words—"they, uh, they weren't wandering."

"Sure." Then, with a flick of a finger, Cain's cigarette was sent flying through the air. "C'mon sis, time to go home."

"They weren't wandering, N/N—"

"I know they weren't, Stevie." You chuckled. "He was just teasing you."

You didn't let him respond—opting, instead, to ghost your fingers over his arm and wiggle them in one last goodbye before making your way around the truck, kicking a pebble or two while you were at it.

Your hand slotted between the handle and the knob, and with a pull—accompanied by a step up—you were off, leaving the dazed form of Harrington in the dust.

Houses, one after the other—zooming by in a blur of colours; of people and cars that still seemed so surreal to you. Being in the 80s was so... weird. There was one thing you hated for sure though—the lack of mobile phones.

Like, seriously?! What did a girl have to do in order to get some entertainment around here?! The TV shows weren't good and the VFX in films was enough to make you empty your stomach contents in a gross assortment of sickly green vomit. Maybe you were being spoiled but damn, living without the Internet to entertain you sucked.

"We've got new neighbours," Cain's voice pierced through your thoughts, "just moved in a bit ago."

New neighbours? Could it be...?

"When'd they move in?"

"A day or two ago." He shrugged.

"How did I not notice?" That question was more for yourself than him.

"We didn't particularly let you." But he answered anyway.

"Right. Did you see who they were?"

"They have a son, 'bout your age. Why? Do you wanna hook up with him or something?"

You slowly turned his way, expression scrunching up. "No, ew, you're gross."

"What? You're a teenager, it's only natural."

"True—but also, dude!"

His shoulders bounced up and down as he chuckled at your misery. Big brothers sure sucked sometimes.

"Alright, we're home. Get out, shithead."

You playfully rolled your eyes but obliged, jumping out of the elevated truck with a big swing of your arms before landing on the ground—a light 'thud' following after. Thank god you were on the sidewalk and not sinking into mud right now.

Well, now was as good a time as ever to test your little theory of who, exactly, had moved in to the previously-empty house next to yours.

Your eyes flickered to the side, scanning the house and frowning at the empty driveway that greeted you.

No blue camaro.

Maybe he was out on a drive? Cooling off some steam by recklessly going over the speed limit?

"What are you doing standing around? Get."

Guess it'd have to wait until tomorrow.

You twisted open the door to your house and were immediately greeted with the sound of grunts and plastic harshly smacking against plastic coming straight from the opening closest to you.

"What d'you wanna eat?" Cain's voice calls from behind you.

"You can cook?"

He sent you a weird look and you found yourself wanting to rip off a piece of duck tape, coat it in the most sticky glue you could find, and slap it bang in the middle of your lips.

"I've always cooked for the three of us."

"Right. Yes. You have always done that. Silly me." With a tiny giggle, you looked off to the side to eye the suddenly-very-interesting wall.

"Oookay, what do you want then?"

What did you want? You weren't particularly in the mood for anything—your mind was way too occupied for choices right now. How could you worry about food when your brain constantly replayed the events of the demodog attack and scenes that happened in Stranger Things as a whole?

"Alright—" you blinked, tossing your gaze forward again to see Cain heading to the kitchen, raising one rough arm to wave dismissively in your direction, "—I'll just make lasagne."

Then, you jumped as you heard a yell from the other room. "Fine by me!"

Maybe you could ask Curt if he had anymore info on the family next door. You were fairly certain it was who you thought it was but better safe than sorry, huh?

"Currtt."

You appeared from behind a pillar, slowly walking over to your second eldest brother with the most artificial smile you'd ever worn on your face.

"What?" His fist continued colliding with the bag.

"Do you know anything about our new neighbours?"

"Why the hell would I give a damn?"

Immediately, your smile fell. "Useless."

"What was that, you little shit?"

So much for getting info from him.

Well, you had time to spare so you might as well spend it gathering your thoughts some more.

First things first, you had no idea how to get back to your world—and to be entirely honest—you weren't sure if that was your top priority as much as surviving was. This was Stranger Things, a world that contained a hidden dimension filled to the brim with bloodthirsty, plant monsters that could, quite literally, rip you limb from limb.

There was also one glaring question that really stood out to you; one that prodded the back of your mind earlier today; that had you leaping into Eddie's arms in the first place. Could—

"Alright, shitbirds, dinner's ready!"

"Fucking finally."

Well, guess you had to wait for some other time to contemplate that question.

All three of you gathered at the table to eat and, as your fork prodded against the pasta sheets on your plate, you found yourself eyeing the two extra seats—empty and unoccupied. Were they for guests? Or perhaps... your parents?

Did you even have parents in this world? Curt and Cain never spoke about it—you never really saw anyone in the house other than them so... were you parent-less? It made sense seeing as Cain was the one who cooked for you three—a fact you weren't privy to before because of... wait, why didn't he cook before? You had been in this world for a few days now and you hadn't been cooked a single meal since arriving.

"Hey, Cain?" You turned to the eldest, keen on finding an answer to your question.

"Hm?"

"How come you never cooked before?"

"I have cooked before, what are you talking about?" He rose a brow.

Shit. Careful with phrasing.

"I meant like, when I was on house-arrest."

"Well, I don't know if you noticed but I was busy fixing a car commissioned to me by the Wheelers."

Ah, that made much more sense.

"Are you okay, Y/N? You haven't been acting yourself lately."

Well shit.

Before you could stutter out a response, he had already beat you to talking.

"Is it... 'cause of the attack?"

"Oh!" You saw the opportunity given to you and seized it. "Uh, yeah! I'm just... still shaken up by that wolf attack."

His lips tugged down and concern creased his brow, sending your heart into that constricting feeling for the nth time. You were starting to grow sick of it.

"You know what? I think I'm done."

"You barely touched your—"

"It was great, thanks, goodnight!"

"It's not even—"

You tuned out the rest of what he was trying to say, rushing up the stairs with loud 'thud's echoing after each step; hand barely resting on the rail as you zoomed by.

Did you have a valid reason for running away this time? Not really—at least, nothing as justified as when you ran from Steve before. Your only reason right now was... well, you didn't even know what it was.

All you knew was that your bed looked mighty comfy right now.

And comfy it was, you passed out as soon as you hit the mattress in fact, entering the land of slumber with nothing but the vast expanse of darkness to greet you when you arrived.

It seemed like only seconds passed before you felt your shoulders start to shake gently, long fingers wrapped around the exposed curves; long fingers you were now quite familiar with.

You eyes fluttered open and you were met with the soft, brown eyes of your best friend hovering over you.

"Steve? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pick you up, Nance is waiting in the car."

His words brought your attention to behind him, seeing the shine of the sun's rays making its way through the clear glass of your window to light up your room and coat it in a warm, yellow glow. Unfortunately, you couldn't bask in the beauty of the scene for long.

"Oh shit! It's morning?!"

"Yeah—did you... sleep in your cheerleading outfit?"

"Yes, yes I did, Steve. Now get out so I can get ready!" You sprang up, placing both of your hands on his shoulders this time before you spun him around and pressed your palms against his back, lightly ushering him out of the room.

"You already look ready to me." He snickered.

"Oh shut up."

With that, you slammed the door shut in his face and quickly got to fixing your bedhead.

Luckily, you didn't have to change, but you definitely had to reapply your makeup which took quite a few minutes. That plus the time it took for you to refresh yourself in the toilet and you were looking at just narrowly avoiding being late to school.

Your feet carried you down the steps swiftly as your eyes locked in on the door, passing by a very flabbergasted Cain on your way there.

"Wait, you forgot to—!"

His words were cut off once you slammed the door shut, rushing down the front yard to stumble into the back seat of Steve's BMW, where both he and Nancy sat awaiting your arrival.

Your chest heaved up and down. "What are you waiting for?! Go!"

"We aren't late." Nancy replied, raising a brow at you.

"We... aren't?" You paused to catch your breath.

"No, we aren't."

You slowly turned your gaze to the left, meeting the ridiculous facial expression of your best friend; cheeks sucked in and eyes looking off to the side.

"Steve."

Then, a huge bout of laughter tumbled out of his mouth and you found your eyes scanning the interior of his car before landing on a half-full water bottle. Perfect.

Within seconds, you snatched it up and sent it hurdling towards the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Not funny, asshole!"

"Liiittle funny."

"Just drive, Steve," sighed Nancy, fingers kneading through her temples.

"Thank you, Nancy," you huffed, "at least someone here isn't a dick."

Cue another snicker coming from the driver's seat.

You rolled your eyes as the car started up, bouncing you up and down against the smooth, leather seats. It was kinda bizarre how this was a car from back in the 80s but was still the most expensive car you had ever found yourself sitting in.

Okay, maybe the 80s didn't suck that much.

You still missed your phone though.

Now, you would've happily continued reminiscing all of your memories with your beloved device, but—just then—your ears picked up on a sound; one you were awfully familiar with, the roar of an engine you couldn't bring yourself to ignore even if you wanted to.

Your hand moved on its own, wrapping itself around the handle of the door before pushing it open as you placed one foot out, your other following straight after. Now leaning on top of the door of Steve's car, you gazed straight forward.

Metallic blue; shiny and glinting in the sun's rays. At the bottom, a yellow number plate stared you right in the eyes: PCE 235.

The left door clicked open and out came black boots paired with light blue jeans. Adorning them was a guy rocking a denim-on-denim look—blonde mullet rested comfortably on his head and striking, electric blue eyes scanning the parking lot with little emotion swirling inside.

Then, he made eye-contact with you, holding it for one, two, three seconds before breaking away, flicking his cigarette, and sauntering off in a way that exuded pure confidence.

There was no doubt about it, that guy was Billy Hargrove. And if he was Billy Hargrove, then that meant—

—the events of Season 2 had officially started.

@bdudette, @tanyaherondale, @killerqueenfan, @l3xiluve, @thedoubleexposurephotography, @xxqueenofdemonsxx, @briarsheart

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