#they were hurting inside so badly and Billy was too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

becauseicantthinkwritings · 7 months

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Teeth

Part 18

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Conversations about stalking and being afraid, some sexual frustration.

You woke up in his arms. A deep sigh when you realise your face is buried in his chest, his scent wrapped as tightly around you as his body was.

Your leg is kicked over his hip, your nightgown rucked up but you barely care, not when his soft breaths are tickling your ear like that.

You can’t help it, your hand rubbing his back, appreciating the feel of his skin.

He lets out a soft sigh, waking slightly the more you begin to shift beside him.

“Sorry.” He hums, uncurling his body from around you and lying back. You withdraw your leg, sighing and stretching your arms upward, back arching naturally to help you wake up.

You yawn, groaning a little as you rub your eyes.

You feel good. Really good. You’re well rested and you feel so calm, turning on your side to look at him shyly. He blinks slowly at you, fighting sleep.

“Hey.” You say on a raspy breath, closing your eyes for a moment as they sting a little in protest at being open.

“Morning.” He replies, his voice is deep and rough and sends tingles of delight over your skin. Fucking hell, his voice in the morning was divine. You wanted to hear him speak more.

“Hope I wasn’t too much trouble.” You mumble, eyes still closed.

He makes a small hum.

“No, you-” He breathes out a small sigh, “You were perfect.”

God, you wanted to record his voice and save it for later. You could feel your body slowly getting aroused, you peek an eye open to glance at him, observing his shirtless form.

Is this what waking up with him would have been like? Close, perhaps, but if you had woken up with him that morning after you’d had sex, you wouldn’t have been able to stop touching him.

Unlike now, where you were only close enough to feel the residual heat of his skin.

Wow, this was a really confusing situation.

You definitely shouldn’t stay, despite how badly you wanted to. He was a friend right now, and nothing more.

The very thought of leaving his bed created a physical ache inside of you. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted so much more than he was probably willing to even give.

Your throat closes up, you feel tears pool in your eyes. You blink fast to get rid of them.

Sitting up, you avoid looking at him and you scoot your way to the edge of the bed.

“See you at breakfast.” You murmur lightly, walking out of his room and back to yours.

It had taken every ounce of control in Billy’s body, every shred, every atom of it, not to reach across and pull you back into his arms.

He’d even held his breath at one point, your scent so thick in the air, soaked into his sheets and lingering on his very skin, another gulp of your strawberry scent would decimate his self control.

He wasn’t sure what words could be used to define a relationship like yours. His employee that he’d slept with once before he fucked up and you ended things with him, in his bed, because you were too scared to sleep alone after he’d brought you to his home to protect you from someone following you.

What label would you even put on that?

Luck, Billy thinks, because it gave him a second chance, one he would not destroy again by coming on too fast or leaving you alone. Something sours in his stomach at the idea of him considering this situation lucky, there was still someone out there after you, not that they would ever get another chance to be near or hurt you again. He would make sure of it.

The panther inside of him had been silent, placated by a night beside you, hums of serenity in his head, which had only stopped the moment you’d gotten up and left the room.

Billy was forever haunted by a day you would know him, really know him, and not turn away, or leave. He was tormented by thoughts of you, by the ways you could bring him to his knees if you so wanted.

He’d do anything for you.

The concept of it didn’t even frighten him.

Billy makes a little sound to get your attention, and you turn to him with the kettle in hand.

“The kettle has a short somewhere and doesn’t turn on unless it’s in the right position, here-” He extends his hands out to you and you curiously place the kettle, halfway filled with water, into his hands.

You watch him angle the kettle slightly before slipping into the base and clicking it on. The little light in the on switch turns red for a second before blinking off.

You’re mildly amused as you watch him swear under his breath, flipping the switch off, before turning it back on again. This time, it stays on and begins heating the water for your tea.

You give him a little smile of thanks when he turns to face you, not even bothering to ask him why he doesn’t just get a new one, before he’s explaining it to you.

“It was a housewarming gift from my friend.”

You nod in understanding.

“It’s probably not that hard to fix. I can take a look at it while I’m here… If you’d like.” You offer, already thinking about the tools you’d need to strip the wires.

He nods, tilting his head a little, looking at you with a depth in his gaze that makes your stomach feel like it’s twisting.

“Thank you.” Billy says, taking a step forward.

He takes another step and you swallow, hands curling into fists.

Was he going to kiss you?

You have to tilt your head higher the closer he got.

You jerk in surprise when the kettle clicks off behind you and he’s reaching for it.

Right…

You press your teeth together as a flood of negative emotions flood your mind. That he didn’t like you like that, that he was just letting you stay here because he was nice. This was nothing more than pity, and held no meaning beyond friendship.

It almost chokes you, the pain in your chest is searingly sharp.

You blink, pretending everything is alright, turning to watch him pour steaming water into two mugs.

“Sugar?” He asks, after placing a tea bag into each cup and letting it sit for a while.

You tell him how much, and you watch him prepare your tea how you like it, looking up at him, desperate to see more of this side of him, yearning to touch him.

You find yourself looking out of his windows, looking at your own apartment in the distance.

You can’t see much since the curtains are drawn, but you imagine what he could have seen when they were open.

It makes you a little uncomfortable now, that you know he wasn’t the only person watching you. That there was someone else peering into your life, enjoying your suffering. Why else would they have photographed the robbery instead of helping you?

“Can I ask you something?” You ask softly, deep in thought, still staring at your shut curtains.

“Anything.” He replies.

“You’ve seen the photos. What do you think he- the stalker I mean- what do you think they think of me?”

He looks up at you for a moment, and doesn’t say anything until you glance at him curiously.

“I’m not equipped enough to give an analysis-”

You smile.

“Fair enough. But I just want to know what you think.”

He inclines his head, sliding your mug of tea over to you.

“Dinah said yesterday, that they might want you to feel scared, maybe they enjoy that.”

“Yeah but, don’t I look scared enough?” You say with a laugh.

“Maybe not.” He answers softly.

You smile sadly, shaking your head.

“So this person thinks I’m weak? Or… vulnerable?”

“If that’s what they think then they’re wrong.”

“Are they?” You mumble beneath your breath, looking down into your tea.

He tilts his head down, to find his way into your line of sight. You smile when you notice the odd way he bends to get your attention.

“Yes. And it doesn’t matter what this person thinks of you.” He follows easily.

“They’ve been watching me for a while, seeing way more intimate moments than I probably even know. What if this person knows me better than anyone?”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, paranoia filling you, the idea that you really were just weak and scared becoming your most defining attributes.

“Then tell me something.” Billy says decisively.

You look up at him warily.

“What?”

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up in amusement. You try your hardest to come up with something and fail.

“I can’t remember a single thing about myself.” You whisper to him in horror.

He smiles, and then you watch his nose scrunch as he breaks into a grin. Adorable and boyish, you feel your stomach squeeze in delight.

“Okay okay,” You say, trying to come up with something that you’re sure you’ve never told anyone, “Oh here’s one- watching videos of people painting calms me down sometimes- Oh no, my therapist knows that. Shit.”

You think again for a long moment.

“My favourite painter is Vincent Van Gogh?” You offer instead.

Billy inclines his head in acceptance.

“Why?”

You blink.

“I like the way he doesn’t blend his brushstrokes, that you can see each one and see the separation of the colour, and still have a really amazing painting.”

He smiles at you, his eyes hold a depth that you adore.

“Tell me something else.” He says.

He wants to know me, you think affectionately.

“I think scars are beautiful,” You murmur, “They show where you’ve been and what you’ve lived through, and in a way, they’re no different than brushstrokes.”

“I have a lot of scars.”

“I know.”

I’ve seen you naked, you want to remind him.

The moment feels charged, soft electricity humming in the air, a call between your bodies.

“Well now I know things about you that no one else knows, and when I say that you’re smart and very brave, you have to believe me right?”

“Don’t guess,” He says, hand cupping your face, “believe me.”

“I guess.”

“I believe you.” You echo.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smile.

“Good girl.”

You swallow.

Suddenly he blinks, tilting his head as if he’s just thought of something and smiles.

“I just remembered, I didn’t show you the whole house yet.”

He doesn’t say anything further, simply taking your hand in his, turning around to lead you in the direction of his bedroom.

Your heart pounds in your chest, ambling behind him with your mug of steaming tea still in hand, you try your best not to spill as you walk.

“It’s my favourite place for a nap. I think you’ll like it.” He says, and you study the back of his head, desperate to memorize everything about him.

When you’re back in the green walls of his bedroom, he releases your hand and approaches a wooden door you had assumed was a closet.

He tugs the door open, and you look at him curiously as he stands beside the door. He inclines his head for you to go in.

It’s a little dark, but you can see the little room immediately leads into a stairway, and your heart beats a little fast as you step in.

The space is enclosed, and the next thing you know Billy is right behind you, his voice in your ear.

“Don’t be scared,” he soothes, “Go up.”

“I’m not scared.” You grumble, gripping the handrail to step carefully to the top where you can see another door at the top of the stairs.

At the top, you don’t hesitate to turn the doorknob, pushing the door open swiftly.

The light hits you all at once and you squint, frowning in discomfort as your eyes try to adjust.

When your vision finally clears, your mouth drops open.

It’s a sunroom.

Sitting in the centre of his rooftop, is a room in the shape of a glass hexagon, large, soft, dark blue couches along each edge, filled with an array of potted plants and throw pillows.

In the middle of the room, is a large stone table, with short legs.

The sun streams through the glass, lighting up the room effortlessly, an immaculate display of design.

“Billy.” Is all you can find the words to say.

He chuckles behind you, moving to sit on the couch.

“It came with the house. It was the main reason I bought it. Fixed it up in my first summer here and I’m glad I did.”

You nod in agreement, still looking around in wonder.

After a moment, you sit as well, the couch embracing your body easily.

You smile, tuck your legs under you and bring your cup of tea up to your lips for a sip.

It’s lovely, it’s cozy, you watch the sun shine into his hair.

He looks at you, and you feel like cold butter melting on warm toast.

Your grip on your cup tightens.

He’s dangerous.

He’s the most dangerous person in the world.

He’s dangerous because he cares, because he’s kind to you, because he’s patient and calm and is too willing to accommodate your needs.

He’s dangerous because he’s so far away, because he won’t kiss you and he won’t touch you and you have to stand here and pretend like you haven’t seen him naked and you don’t know what his mouth tastes like and pretending is going to kill you much faster than any stalker is.

You stand outside of his home gym, listening to him grunt as he took swings at a punching bag. You’d stepped in a few moments before to ask about swimming in his pool.

He’d been shirtless, covered in a sheen of his own sweat, a single strand of his hair sticking to his forehead.

Hey, I don’t have a swimsuit but I really wanna go in your pool. Can we take a quick trip back to my place?

We can, he’d responded, but you don’t need a suit. Wear whatever you’re comfortable with.

Any then you’d nodded, and left like an idiot because you couldn’t very well form new thoughts with him looking like that, right?

Fuck you, Billy Russo, you think, titling your head back to take a breath, fuck you and your hot fucking body and your stupidly handsome face.

You close your eyes, remembering the way he looked, lean and muscular, his hair moving with each powerful swing of his arm.

You gasp, arousal sticky between the lips of your cunt, soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

He’d said to wear what you felt was comfortable, and a devious thought fills your head. That maybe you’d be comfortable wearing nothing at all.

It feels easy enough to do. Step into his lovely pool room, take a deep breath in, and out, pulling your shirt off, and dropping your shorts unceremoniously onto the floor. You reach for it, folding it neatly and placing it onto the wooden bench on the far wall of the room.

There's a small shelf on the wall nearby with white rolled towels, maybe about five or six, and you consider them carefully as you approach the pool.

Your plan is foolproof, turn on the overhead rain feature, tug your underwear off and get into the pool as fast as possible.

There's a panel on the wall near the entrance of the room, but there's also another waterproof control panel on the floor beside the pool for ease of access.

You smile absentmindedly, admiring the foresight that went into the pool design, wondering how much of a hand the man constantly on your mind had in the planning of it all.

You second guess yourself at the water’s edge. Were you really going to do this?

Yes, you decide, sitting beside the pool so you could adjust the settings easily.

The first thing you do is dim the lights, bringing it down to a much lower setting, and then turn on the small lights above your head that looked like stars.

When it was satisfactory, you eagerly tap the tiny rain symbol on the panel, and select the lowest intensity.

To your amazement, it starts of like soft drizzle, and you pause to take in the ambience of it.

Some parts of the pool’s edge are lined with plants and large rock shapes to give the place a very natural effect. It’s got a kidney shape, or maybe something more irregular, that helps play into the nature theme you assume Billy was going for.

After a moment, you increase the rain intensity, feeling it soak into your hair and over your shoulders. The droplets hit the leaves of the surrounding plants, creating a symphony of relaxing sounds.

It excites you now, to swim naked here, you tug your undergarments off so much more easily in the low light, curious to feel what it’s like to swim in a marvel like this.

You place your wet underthings near the pool’s edge, but far enough to keep it out of the rain, and you slip into the pool with a deep breath.

The water is warm, not too warm, but enough that you don’t shiver when you climb in. The rain falls around you, droplets disturbing the water, leaving transient ripples only there to be replaced by more raindrops.

It’s magical, the way this space makes you feel. You take a breath and dip your head below the surface of the water, feeling your hair float around you.

You come back up for air, taking your time to move around the pool. You’ve never swam naked before, but in the low light, it’s not as scary as you thought it would be.

You paddle around for a little, and after a while, you find your way back to the nearby control panel to explore other features.

You discover there’s an option to light up the interior of the pool, and another feature that plays ambient forest sounds. You find that you don’t like that as much, because it reminds you of past experiences you’d rather forget.

You find a comfortable spot on the edge of the pool, folding your hands under your head to rest your cheek comfortably, half floating in the gentle artificial rain.

You’re incredibly relaxed when you feel the rain intensity soften on your back. Peeking an eye open, you raise your head with a smile when you catch sight of Billy at the door.

“Sorry, didn’t want to disturb you.” He murmurs, approaching calmly. He’s still dressed the way he was before, shirtless, with a pair of dark grey sweatpants on his lower half.

“That’s alright.” You gulp, eyes trailing down his form shamelessly, too caught up in the way he looks to worry about him looking at you.

When he’s halfway to you, he stops suddenly. You raise an eyebrow at the small shocked expression on his face. You tilt your head curiously when you see his fists clench tightly.

“Are you naked?” He asks in a calm voice, his overall demeanour clearly displaying that he was not calm.

“Yes.” You say slowly.

You watch his jaw tighten, you swear you’ll hear his teeth crack with the amount of pressure he puts on them.

“You said to wear what’s comfortable.” You defend yourself, pushing away from the wall of the pool to float on your back peacefully, no doubt giving him a subtle glimpse of your nude body in the low light. You can’t discern the exact expression written on his face.

“You can join me if you’d like.” You offer.

You watch him debate with himself, unsure of what exactly is going on in his head, but you try to give him the space to decide, turning away from him to glide to the other end of the pool, holding your breath as the water moves all around you.

Billy’s losing control. Fast.

The panther has locked him into place, refusing to allow him to move away from you, after he’d decided he was going to allow you your privacy and gently turn down your offer of a swim.

Of course he wanted nothing more than to shed his clothes and join you, but he didn’t want to intrude.

The panther had rejected this argument. The panther was currently trying to urge Billy into removing his clothes and joining you.

It’s a war within himself, fighting with the deeper, darker base urges inside of him, rational thought being pulled from his mind as the beast demands he go to you.

He watches you push away from the wall, your head dipping under the surface as your ass raises into the air for a small moment. Graceful in your movement.

Even with his ability to see in the low light, the small ripples of the water caused by the small raindrops obscure his view of your body.

Naked, he reminds himself.

The beast inserts imagery of your naked bodies against each other in the water, his arms caging you in while he sinks his cock into you.

He exhales, reaching down to push his pants down the length of his legs.

When he has his boxers off, and he’s just as naked as you are, he hesitates again.

Was this the right idea? Should he give you more space?

He turns away from the pool’s edge.

The panther, having enough of his internal battle, takes sudden control of his legs, one small push, and he tumbles into the water against better thought.

You take a breath when you reach the other end, only distracted by the sound of something large crashing into the water behind you.

You turn suddenly in surprise, watching as Billy breaks the surface of the water, shaking his head and pushing his now wet hair back to pin you with his dark gaze.

You glance down shyly, unable to see anything more than dark shapes in the water, nothing that can tell you the state of his undress.

“So, h- how did you come up with the design for this place?” You ask, lowering your body into the water until only your head is above the surface, the water licking at your neck and chin, soft droplets just barely pattering onto your head.

He stays a small distance away, a wet strand of hair falling in front of his face as he begins speaking. You try not to get distracted by the way he looks.

“Remember when I told you I ran away from that group home when I was fifteen?”

You incline your head in affirmation.

“Well, I spent most of my time in the woods. I’d break into abandoned cabins and stay until peak season. I’d read whatever books I could find, and explore the forest to pass the time.”

You blink, your throat closing up at the lonely existence he was painting for you.

“I thought I hated it. When I came back to civilization, I didn’t think I would want reminders of it, but after all of that, I realised, that was the very first place I heard myself think.”

He looks up, and you keep your eyes on him.

“In the dark, under the trees, looking up at the stars.”

He looks back at you, and you can see the faint shine of the lights in his eyes.

“That was the first place I learned who I really was.”

You smile softly at him, inching closer.

“That’s amazing, Billy.” You hum.

He moves closer too, unable to be too far from you, or so you hope quietly.

“I know you’re afraid of the forest, of the reminder.”

You swallow, nodding, looking down at the ripples he creates as he moves.

“It makes me feel like I have no control, anything could happen and I have no power to stop it.”

It’s easier with you around, you want to say to him.

Like he did before, he inserts himself into your line of sight, pulling a smile onto your face at his antics.

“You have to know by now that you’re not powerless.”

You open your mouth to protest.

He cups your cheeks, bringing you close to his body, until you swear he’s touching you all over.

“Don’t argue.” He says in a stern tone that makes you gulp, looking up at him demurely, feeling yourself get comfortably small under his gaze.

“You’re resilient, you’ve been through so much and you’re still so strong.”

“But this is breaking me.” You confess, voice cracking as tears rise to the surface, having never admitted it out loud, not even to your therapist.

He looks pained for a moment, eyebrows drawing together, a tilt of his head before he’s dipping to take you into his arms.

A few tears fall, your breathing shallow as you cry for a moment, emotions overwhelming you, stealing your ability to breathe.

His large palm moves over your bare back, soothing you, his cheek is cool where it presses against yours.

You sniffle after a moment, getting control of your emotions, clinging to him in the water, unwilling to let him go.

He says your name softly, reverently, capturing your attention.

“You’re not broken yet, sweetheart, and I promise I’ll keep you safe. No one is going to touch a hair on your head, and no one is ever going to get the chance to hurt you.”

“That’s not your job, Billy. You don’t have to.” You protest.

His hands rise to cup your face, drawing back a little so that he can look at you, nose to nose.

“I want to. I want you to feel safe, and protected and relaxed because you deserve to be.”

You make a small sound, and before you can stop yourself, you rise onto your toes to kiss him.

His reaction is instantaneous, gripping the back of your head to press his mouth firmly to yours, a low groan in his throat, something dark and desperate.

You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders, pulling him close until your bodies are pressed to each other.

His hands grip your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his hips, the water sloshing as you move so eagerly.

You gasp against his mouth as you feel the largeness of his erection press against your thigh.

He grips your jaw tightly, placing punishing kisses onto your mouth, no doubt bruising your lips with the fervour.

His desire is matched with your own, your fingers scraping against his skin, wandering over the scars on his shoulder, smoothing over his wet hair.

“Are you sure?” He pants against your mouth, groaning when he feels your lips kiss the spot right below his ear.

He says your name on a groan, tilting his head back when your teeth scrape the base of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” He tries again, “You need to tell me.”

You pause suddenly, gasping as you come back to your senses. In truth, you weren’t sure about this, past experience telling you that doing this with him was probably a bad idea.

You give him a shy look, his breathing harsh as he looks into your eyes.

“I’m not sure.” You whisper softly, worried about his reaction.

Like he can sense your worry, he nods, withdrawing from your grip.

“That’s alright. It’s okay to be unsure.” He says, turning away for a moment, cupping a handful of water to pour onto his head.

Yet guilt fills you, past experience trying to pressure you into thinking that you’ve done something wrong.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He turns back, concern in his gaze as he drops himself to eye level with you.

“Don’t feel sorry for telling me how you feel. I’d rather you stop me now, than regret it, or feel bad about yourself later.”

You think about mentioning your fear of him leaving again, after he’s done that so many times before, but you decide against it, because it would do no good at this point to say.

“I like you, I really do,” You whisper, “but I worry I’m using you to distract myself from the way I feel. That’s not fair to you.”

He looks down, a somber expression on his face that makes your heart crack.

“I get it. Trust me, I do, I’m here for you, anything you want.”

You reach out to take his hand, bringing it up to your face so that you can kiss the back of his knuckles.

“Maybe we can take it slow? Until I can get my brain around things?”

He gives you a little smile, nodding acceptingly at the notion.

“Slow is good.” He says, leaning forward to kiss the top of your head.

You smile happily, looking up at him, feeling something different in your chest, a fondness, an appreciation, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You may be naked, but you’re not remotely concerned about him violating the boundaries of your consent.

You toss your arms around him, holding him close , feeling him return the embrace.

After a few moments, you lean back, smiling up at him.

“Exactly how hard can this artificial rain fall?” You ask playfully.

He takes on an amused expression at the idea.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #werepanther! billy russo #monster! billy #billy russo x female reader #monster!billy russo #the punisher #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #my writings

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neonponders · 1 year

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Just a little something, inspired by @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse ~

• • •

Steve opened the door with his cheek full of sandwich. Unlike most people who have the sheriff on their stoop, he merely swallowed and went in for another bite. “Hey, sheriff. What’s going on?”

It took Steve too long to notice the shoebox in the man’s hands. His fingers lightly tapped on it until he glanced at it and decidedly stopped. “I don’t have any way of explaining things to you. All I know is that these should be with you. And. Uh...they refuse to be separated.”

Steve distantly wondered, Like magnets? in his mind as he accepted the box -

“Don’t open it out here,” Hopper warned. “Take them inside. Water, food, the works. Listen, this happened on the worst day because I gotta go. But you have my number.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve answered by default, feeling supremely lost but not wanting to be an obstacle. If Hopper was delivering something in a shoebox that needed to be fed, how hard could it be?

He took the box to the kitchen and opened a cabinet for a plate with a tall brim. If it was chicks or something, they would need something they could drink out of without falling into...

Steve lifted the lid off the box and froze. He stared into alarmingly familiar brown eyes. If the past three years in Hawkins, Indiana hadn’t happened, he might’ve reacted badly, like flinching or yelling or something.

Now, though...he ventured a wary, “Hi?”

Perhaps if Hopper had given him a better description of what the box held, Steve would have thought of something cleverer to say to his tiny doppelganger. Because that’s exactly who he was seeing: a version of himself that was so small, he could fit on Steve’s palm, lying down.

The box was padded with a baby blanket on the bottom, and two plushies on either side, protecting the little ones - because there were two, Steve was realizing in staggered terror. Hopper had clearly stolen his secretary’s handkerchiefs and used a safety pin to toga-wrap them for some kind of clothing.

The little Steve sat down right on the other little one, who lay in a fetal position on the blanket. Big Steve realized all at once that the small one was glaring at him.

“I won’t hurt your friend,” he immediately softened. “Sorry, my name’s Steve.”

“My name’s Steve!”

Big Steve’s mouth hung, thoroughly at a loss for words. Well, they’re not babies...

Then he recovered, “That’s great! We’re the Steves. Is it okay that I get you some water and food? Is your friend okay?”

The large head underneath little Steve’s protective stance swiveled to point teary, but bright blue eyes at him. Once again, Steve felt like his brain just couldn’t keep up and hadn’t noticed in time that the other one’s hair was blond. Oh no...

Little Steve lowered to the blanket to huddle close to the other one. Maybe he thought he was whispering, but Steve heard clearly, “Biwwy? Food?”

Big Steve swallowed but kept his voice level and kind. They refuse to be separated.

“Billy? Do you know what your favorite food is?”

A single Fruit Loop would fill these guys up...

For all of the fear that Billy’s body language carried, his eyes were resilient and his bottom lip pushed up in a pathetic - and adorable - whimper. “Em nn Ms.”

“M&M’s?” Steve reiterated as he quickly ran through his memory of the fridge and pantry. He couldn’t imagine that the sheriff station had a lot of options “Coming right up. Are you two warm enough?”

“We’wre naked, dumb ass!”

“Wow,” Steve croaked as he hid the original water dish in the sink and went for the shot glasses. “You really remind me of someone.”

With the electric kettle, he warmed up some water with honey and set the glass in the box. “Be gentle, okay? It’s a little hot but you need to drink some water and it will keep you warm. We’ll work on getting you guys clothes later.”

“Biwwy wants emm and emms!” little Steve shouted, his voice cracking a little.

Steve put his elbows on the counter to be more on their level. “I know, but I need an extra minute. Don’t strain your voice. I can hear you really well, I promise.”

Delicate slurping filled the air as he ripped open an M&M’s package and cut through the peanuts before it occurred to him that people have nut allergies. “Do you two happen to have any allergies?”

Billy answered, “Awergic to people bein’ pokey!”

Steve inhaled for patience. “Do you like chocolate M&M’s or peanut M&M’s?”

“The rwed ones!”

“Okay, but is there something crunchy in the middle or not?”

“Why wouldn’t there be?”

Steve finished cutting a couple of candies in half and set them next to the shot glass. Billy chomped contently over the candies while Steve cracked an egg into a bowl and got a pan onto the stove. The glass chiming of the whisk made two heads perk up over the edge of the box, using one of the plushes as a stepladder. “Steve?”

He looked at his smaller version. “Yeah?”

“What’s that?”

“I’m making a scrambled egg for us. You need more than M&M’s to keep that hair shiny.”

Tiny hands sandwiched his head as he considered that, but little Billy scrutinized him with lips pressed into a discontent line. “Are scwambled eggs good?”

“They’re my favorite.”

Billy looked at the smaller Steve as if both Steves were one and the same. Then he waved a little hand in the air, summoning. “Pick me up! I wanna see.”

“Hang on, hang on, the stove is too hot to risk you getting too close. I’ll move the box. Hang on tight.”

Ever so gently, Steve grasped the box and picked them up to set them on the counter beside the stove. The small Billy and Steve didn’t hang onto the box, though. They put their arms around each other, and held onto Steve’s thumbs hooked on the edge of the box.

The living heat radiating from those little hands into Steve’s skin made his heart break and stitch itself back up at the same time. All at once, these two...humans? Creatures? Were very real, and Steve was in very deep shit.

#harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocket!au #smol squad #ficlet

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babybluebex · 1 year

Note

Billy Knight craves your touch so much that it physically hurts, but he's too scared and insecure to initiate. (Please think of 14k and give Billy/this blurb a happy ending? ILY, congrats on 13k!)

UNLUCKY 13 ANGST NIGHT ugh YES billy my beloved boy cw brief mention of childhood abuse

He's always been told that it's rude. That asking for something like affection was bad, that it showed that you were ungrateful for what you had. Growing up, Billy never had affection, but he learned that asking for it only led to trouble. So he never did. He shut down those feelings and locked them up and threw away the key. He was a grown man; he didn't need paltry things like hugs.

And then he met you, and the need for affection grew. He loved you— God, he loved you— but affection was a tricky thing. He wanted to love you like any other man would love you, but he wasn't able to just hug you or kiss you. He always needed to justify it, and he never could come up with a viable reason why he needed to be affectionate with you. So, he never did, but it was starting to weigh on him.

You looked beautiful as you stood at the kitchen counter, doing nothing especially remarkable. You were cutting vegetables for dinner, and Billy stood at the doorway as he watched you do your work. He likes watching you be all domestic, and the urge to hug you came back. But he couldn’t possibly act on that, as badly as he wanted to. It hurt him inside his chest with the urge, and he suddenly cleared his throat.

“Darling?” he asked, and you turned to look at him, pausing your chopping. “Could you, erm, come here? For a moment?”

You put down the knife and advanced towards Billy, taking his hand in yours once you reached him. His hands were so big and you loved them, and you pressed a kiss to his palm. “Is something wrong?” you asked, and Billy swallowed thickly.

Slowly, his arms stretched outwards and he enveloped you, and you gasped. Billy wasn’t very affectionate with you, for reasons you weren’t quite sure of but knew probably stemmed from a bad childhood, and every bit of affection was welcome and surprising. Your arms flew around his neck quickly and you held him close, and Billy sighed as he nestled his face into your neck. "I love you," he whispers. "M'sorry I don't show it often enough, but please believe me that I love you."

"I love you too, Billy," you whispered. "It's okay, baby, everyone shows affection differently."

"But I want to show you affection the regular way," Billy said. "Hug you and kiss you, do everything I want, but I... I just can't. But believe me, I wish I could."

"I believe you," you whispered. "Maybe we can take baby steps... And this is a big first step."

"I love you so much," Billy whispered quickly, and you squeezed him tightly. "Thank you for not leaving me."

"I don't want to leave you," you told him. "I'd never want to leave you. We can work on this together, but please know I'm proud of you for hugging me."

"Thanks," Billy mumbled. "I just... When I was little, if I asked for a hug or a cuddle, my dad would hit me. I learned that wanting affection was bad, so I learned to never ask. But I guess I need to unlearn that."

"And I'll be here for all of that," you told him. You rubbed his back and stepped away for a moment, and you leaned back and kissed his soft lips for a moment. "I'll always be here."

#bex answers #anon ask #bex's drabbles #billy knight x reader #billy knight #joseph quinn #cb strike #joseph quinn x reader

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void-18 · 1 year

Text

Soft Yandere Wanda: All just a dream

Warning: threatening, manipulation

(Y/ns pov)

My wife and I have been living happily in this home but something seems off. Don't get me wrong, Wanda is beyond amazing but the world itself seems to be out of balance. It keeps glitching and then myself, I keep glitching. Each time it does, I think I come more aware of what's going on. Wanda acts as if it's nothing but the neighbors are just mindlessly roaming and everything is just off. I was in deep thought as my wife woke up and wrapped her arms around me.

W: Goodmorning darling

She kisses my neck and shoulder as her arms cuddle my waist, inhaling the scent of my hair. I turn around in her hold and kiss her, loving her warm embrace. I see the lamp beside us turn into an older looking lamp??? Looks like it came out of the 70's. Wanda ignores it but I catch hold of it.

Y/n: Wanda what's going on? Do you remember that lamp being like that??"

Wanda peers at it, furrows slightly, and then says no. She said I was most likely just really tired from work last night... I know damn well that lamp wasn't there.

She gets out of bed and decides to go down to the basement. She says that's where she can do her online job and really focus but I've always felt something dark was in there. I don't know what and I never thought about it till now.

W: I'll be right back baby, I just have to do some work I didn't finish last night.

I nod and let her go to the basement, I lay there for a couple minutes thinking still until I realize in the corner of my eye... the lamp. It's back to normal, that wasn't possible and I'm starting to freak out. Really badly freak out.

I ran down to the basement and opened it with a key I saw Wanda used once when I was " napping" on the couch. I took it out frantically from its hiding spot and opened the door running in only to see... my wife but also not her.

Wanda... SHE WAS FUCKING LEVITATING IN A SEANCE?!?!

This wasn't right, I know barley anything about this but Wanda never had to previously use seances for her powers! I turn to run away but Wanda's eyes snapped open and she closed the door locking it as I jiggled the door knob.

W: Y/n what are you doing down here?

The voice she used was oddly calm, I turn around now seeing her standing and looking with a bit of surprise but overall worry.

Y: Wanda what the hell are you doing?!

She looked taken aback cause I never curse at her. She sighs and walks closer to which I step back. She looked hurt by my response but there was no way I'm letting her near me, not after what I saw.

She used her powers and brought me to her. I yelped when I felt her cold hands on my neck and waist pulling me closer to her body. She looked at me intently before speaking.

W: There's nothing to worry about my love, I'm doing this for us! This town is mine and nobody will ever bother us again! We can even raise Billy and Tommy here.

She kept her hand on my stomach not letting me get away from her grasp. Wanda has been begging for months for us to have kids, but I wouldn't give in until one time she "forgot" to wear a damn condom. I didn't even know I was pregnant, it was too early to tell but her children growing inside of me... were they even real????

She chuckles and looks at me

W: Yes they are real my darling, which means it's best for us to stay together!

She leaned her head on mine

W: Please don't leave me, you're all I've got left. Here you're safe from out there. All three of you are.

I look into her eyes as she try's to keep her tears from running down her face.

Y: I'm sorry Wanda but I can't, this isn't right. Keeping these people here isn't right.

Her eyes darken at my response, I feel her aura shift as whatever took a hold of my Wanda creeps to the surface.

The ground starts to shake as Wanda gets more upset still holding me in her gentle embrace.

W: I'm sorry Y/n, but I can't do that.

A/N

Oh no. Cliffhanger... I'm sorry it's so late and I'm tired anyways see y'all with pt 2

#dark!wanda maximoff #yandere wanda maximoff #dark wanda maximoff #dark wanda x reader #dark! wanda maximoff #wanda imagine #wanda multiverse of madness #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff

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theladycarpathia · 2 years

Text

“What are you?” Billy demands, finger already resting on the trigger. He’s glad that Max isn’t here, that he left her at the diner doing research. Because the man in their motel room has broken past the hex marks, the warding, every anti-demon trick that they ever learned from their parents or from Hopper. He’s sitting on Billy’s bed, flicking through Billy’s mom’s journal like he has the right, and the sight of her neat writing under his long fingers makes Billy’s blood boil with rage.

“Hey, I could be a hunter for all you know,” the man says easily. He looks completely normal, with soft brown hair falling into his dark brown eyes and brushing the top of his blue polo shirt. But Billy snorts - since he came back from Hell, he’s all too good at sensing when something isn’t quite human. And despite the pink tongue brushing that full bottom lip, the mismatched socks poking out from clean white sneakers, Billy knows that this thing isn’t human.

“You’re not,” Billy says in a low voice, aiming right for the center of its forehead. “You’re the thing that’s been following us since I got topside. The gas station, that motel in Utah, the car radio. So I’ll ask again - what the fuck are you?”

But the man looks up with a bright smile. “You knew that was me?” he asks, sounding genuinely pleased.

“It had to have been you,” Billy mutters, unwilling to admit the truth. Hell changed him so much, giving him extra edges, and sharpening the ones he already had. He feels the trickle of cold down his neck at every demon that walks by, the bile that rises in his throat in the presence of a witch. And since he rose, there’s always been something following him that makes him feel…

Billy swallows. He doesn’t want to react to this creature.

“I’m only asking once more,” he spits, taking a step to the side to get a better shot. “What are you?”

“Steven,” the thing answers, and carefully closes the journal. “You can call me Steven.”

Billy pauses. Right. Not exactly the name of a monster that he was expecting.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” he says, but Steven doesn’t seem to care. He places the journal back where he’d found it, tucked inside Billy’s duffel, and rises from the bed.

“Your mother was a gifted hunter,” Steven muses, eyes flicking around the motel room like he’s in a museum staring at a particularly interesting exhibit. Billy’s leather jacket, the badly hidden porn mags (he still has to share a room with Max after all, it’s not like they have the funds for two rooms,) the packet of nicotine patches. “You take after her.”

“What the fuck do you know about my mother?” Billy says, stunned. He hasn’t seen his mother since he was seven, the day she walked out. It turns out that between her father and the demons, the demons were the monsters that she could take. He’s been hunting with Max for five years now, ever since she was old enough to, and they’ve never once caught a break. Abigail Hargrove seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth.

“She’s not dead, if that’s what you mean,” Steven says, looking away from Billy’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Billy’s breath catches in his throat.

“What?” he breathes. He’s spent so long….in every town they visit, in every state, he hunts in the local directory searching for her name. It occurred to him long ago that maybe she changed it, wanting to be sure that Neil couldn’t find her. But it was also ensuring that her son couldn’t find her. And that hurt.

“Oh, she’s alive,” Steven says easily. “And hiding. Your father wasn’t the only reason she had to leave. There’s a powerful demon out there…I believe you’ve met the Yellow Eyed demon already?”

“Vecna,” Billy says, mouth sour with every syllable. That fucker had already toyed with him, and especially with Max when he’d been gone. Vecna had invaded her every nightmare, and even her waking moments, taunting her with the idea that it was her fault that Billy was dead, that she could have done more.

It was all lies. Billy would have died to save Max a thousand times over. Even if he’d ended up spending a thousand years in hell, Max is all the family he has.

Or so he thought.

“Yes,” Steven agrees darkly. “I’m afraid that he has plans for you and Maxine…and your mother.”

“Can we find her?” Billy asks desperately. He barely remembers her but he still dreams of the floral perfume he used to wear, her favorite sunhat dangling from her fingers, how she’d sing the Beach Boys around the house. But then she was gone and the singing stopped.

He loves her. He misses her. He hates her. He wants to know more than anything why she’d left him behind.

But maybe she didn’t have any choice.

“We can,” Steven says firmly. “We have to. Vecna wants to open the gates to Hell into this world and we don’t have a lot of time to stop him.”

“And we’re the ideal candidates for world saving?” Billy snorts, glad for a reason to pull his eyes away from Steven’s. It’s probably just a meat suit and if so, Billy has no right to be admiring the thick lashes of some possessed bastard. “Hate to tell you this but you’ve got the wrong people. I just got back from Hell and Max is all sorts of fucked up about it. We’re your regular salt and burn hunters, okay? We’re not heroes.”

“I disagree,” Steven says, tilting his head like he can’t quite work Billy out. “No matter what you think, you are worth it. And the only hope the Earth has is you and Maxine. That is why I pulled you from Hell.”

Billy blinks and then suddenly, Steven is standing right in front of him, having cleared the whole room in less than a second. Billy swallows. Fuck. This thing is so, so powerful. They’d thought as much, from what Murray had told them…but shit.

“You did…what?” Billy croaks. They’d always wondered what the fuck had pulled him from Hell. Honestly, he’d half expected Max or someone to have pulled some shit to get him out. A crossroads demon, or Yellow Eyes perhaps. He didn’t know anything else was capable of breaching Hell, all to rescue one human.

He raises the gun - the one that he’d forgotten about in all this and had let fall to his side - and aims it once more at the thing’s chest.

“I’m going to ask once more, Stevie,” he says, in the calmest voice he can manage, even though every inch of him is trembling in fear. “What are you?”

The room almost closes in, like every piece of oxygen has been sucked out of it. Or maybe it doesn’t get smaller, maybe the creature in front of him gets bigger. The lights flicker furiously overhead and the shitty TV crackles and then explodes. Billy shields his face from the sparks, cursing internally. Shit. They’ll have to leave before they get charged for that.

When he looks back at Steve, he doesn’t know if this is the most frightening or most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The deep brown eyes are now glowing with an other-worldly blue, the same color light that ripples under his skin.

“I don't really have time for your bullshit now, William Hargrove,” Steven says, stepping so close to Billy that he can feel the sparks off his skin. There are large shadows unfurling and spreading across the wall behind him, visible in the flickering lights. For a moment, Billy can’t make out what they are but when he does, it upends everything he thought he knew about the world and the monsters in it. They’re wings.

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Steve says somberly. “And we have work for you.”

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asbealthgn · 1 year

Text

in honor of new year’s, here is an excerpt from my fic near wild heaven! i still love this fic so much even though it’s kinda sad (the sequel gives it a happy ending though). cw: a little bit nsfw

New Year’s Eve, 1984

Steve hadn’t even really wanted to go to Tina’s New Years’ Eve party. He had sort of started to hate these people; kids he used to think were cool or funny that he had realized were actually just assholes. It was a bit too much like looking in a mirror.

Walking in was like walking into the lion’s den of people he would rather avoid. Tommy H., Carol, Billy, hell, even Nancy and Jonathan were there. He kept thinking he had made his peace with those two until he saw them again and all that grief and shame and resentment would bubble back up in him. Steve had loved Nancy. He wasn’t sure whether or not he still loved her. He was trying his hardest to push every part of him that still held a flame for her out of his system. He thought it could probably be going better.

So why had Steve shown up to this stupid party at all? A major reason: to not be alone. His parents had gone to New York to watch the ball drop. That meant that if he stayed home, he would just be watching the clock tick from 1984 over to 1985 from the barren privacy of his living room couch. Better to fill up the cavity in his chest with noise and the crush of bodies and faces of people he couldn’t stand but who were more welcoming than the yawning house he had left behind.

Another major reason: to get plastered.

Steve made a beeline for the punch bowl. The sooner the world got hazy around him, the better. As he leaned against the counter to grab a red Solo cup from the stack, he felt more than heard the condom he had tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket crinkle. He didn’t necessarily plan on getting laid tonight, but he was willing to leave the option open.

That had been the way of it since Nancy—leaving the option open. And options abounded. There were no shortage of girls happy to go to bed with King Steve Harrington, and more often than not, Steve let them in. He kept thinking, maybe this next one, maybe she’ll be the one. He wanted to fall in love, wanted it so badly it made his chest hurt. Yet all those one night stands later and he was still alone.

Maybe tonight will be different, he told himself. Maybe the love of your life is gonna fall into your lap.

Steve downed a whole cup of punch before refilling it and moving into the living room. He struck up a conversation with a couple of guys from the swim team, but his head wasn’t really in it. Instead, he was thinking, Why does the New Years party have to be at Tina’s? It was the same place he had gotten his heart ripped out exactly two months ago. Steve would rather this party have been held at anyone else’s house. Hell, he would have been alright if it had been thrown at Tommy’s place. But Steve would have to live with it.

While he sipped his punch and half-listened to whatever story the guy on his swim team was telling, Steve glanced around to see who else had shown up. He saw Nancy and Jonathan in a corner, having what looked like an intimate conversation. Steve quickly looked away. Tommy and Carol were in a group of a whole bunch of Steve’s former friends. A year and a half ago he would have been right there with them, laughing along to whatever bullshit Tommy was spewing.

Next, Steve saw Billy Hargrove, surrounded by all his little disciples. Billy caught Steve’s eye and gave him a death stare. The two had reached a sort of stalemate; Billy had beaten the shit out of Steve, and then he had gotten knocked out by Max. There had been no more fighting between them, just the odd glare in the hallways and running into each other a little too hard on the basketball court. Steve looked away.

Back over in the kitchen, filling up a cup of punch, was Eddie Munson. Steve was sort of surprised to see him here. Eddie was not at all a part of this crowd; not popular, not particularly well-liked. Most likely, he was here to sell. Steve wondered if Tina knew. As Steve watched, Eddie glanced up from the punch bowl and made eye contact with him, raising his cup in recognition. Steve raised his own cup back automatically, before wondering what he was doing and lowering it again. He turned back to the conversation.

“Yeah, so those are all the schools I’m waiting to hear back from,” one of the guys was saying. “What about you Steve, where’d you apply?”

Steve’s stomach dropped. He got enough of these questions from his dad at home, why the fuck did he have to be grilled about it here too?

“C’mon man, it’s a party,” Steve said, trying to stuff all the good-natured, affable, Steve Harrington levity that he didn’t feel into the words. It worked; the swim team guys chuckled and moved on. Steve let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He needed more alcohol.

Steve crossed back into the kitchen and refilled his cup. Eddie was no longer there. Steve glanced around and saw him over by the fireplace talking to some girl Steve didn’t know. He watched the way the light caught in Eddie’s hair, which fell just past his chin. God, what was Steve doing? He tipped back his cup and drained the punch before deciding he needed something stronger.

He rummaged around in a cupboard, all sense of decorum thrown to the wind. He had been to enough parties at Tina’s house to know where her parents kept the vodka. Steve poured himself a shot and knocked it back. It burned going down, but he poured another. The world was still too in focus.

“Man, trust Harrington to find the good shit.”

Steve looked to his left and found himself staring into Eddie’s big brown eyes. Eddie raised his eyebrows and his still half-full cup of punch. Steve lifted the bottle and sloshed some vodka in.

“Much obliged,” Eddie said, raising his cup again before he turned and waded back into the crowd.

Steve was feeling it now. There was a warmth that spread out from his belly to the ends of his fingers, to the tip of his nose. The party had gotten fuzzy around the edges. Perfect. Steve ladled some more punch into his cup and thinned it with vodka before rejoining the party.

Somehow, an hour slipped away, and then another. Still plenty of time to go before midnight. The drunker he got, the less miserable Steve felt. He didn’t actually hate these people. Hell, he even liked some of them. As long as he stayed on the other side of the room from Nancy and Jonathan and kept going back to refill his cup, he could trick himself into believing he was having a good time.

In the midst of the hazy landscape, which was getting hazier with every sip Steve took, his eyes kept returning to the same clear focal point. Eddie Munson. He was just a little too inebriated to stop it from happening. He was also a little too inebriated to turn off that voice in his head that liked to say stuff like, Hey, that guy’s kinda cute, huh? and, Wonder what kissing him would be like. Normally, when he was sober, Steve could silence that voice the second it tried to whisper things like that to him. It wasn’t working quite so well tonight.

Steve didn’t know why his brain had latched onto Eddie right now. He had known the guy for years, and he had never looked at him like that before. At least, not until recently. A couple weeks ago, Steve had been aimlessly wandering around outside the school after class because he hadn’t wanted to go back home to aimlessly wander around his empty house. He had turned a corner and seen Eddie up against the brick wall with some guy, kissing him. Steve didn’t know who the other guy was, but he had recognized Eddie right away by his hair and that stupid denim vest he was always wearing. Steve had immediately turned and gone back the way he came.

The scene had evoked a lot of things in him that he hadn’t allowed himself to fully process. But somewhere swirling around in there was recognition, and attraction, and a sick sort of jealousy. Steve had slammed the lid on all of that. He had refused to revisit it until now, looking at Eddie across the throng, remembering. Eddie liked men. He was unashamed of it enough to be kissing another man in broad daylight in the relative open. Steve had no idea what that was like.

As much as his rational, sober brain tried to deny it, Steve had been coming to some conclusions about himself and his own attractions for over a year now. It had probably been there below the surface even longer, but it hadn’t really coalesced into a conscious realization until last fall when Tommy had shoved him up against a car and Steve had kind of liked it. Steve had buried that under about a dozen layers of denial and almost forgot about it until Billy fucking Hargrove rocked into town. Less than two months ago now, Billy had completely knocked him out, nearly killed him, and Steve had somehow been kind of into it. And he absolutely fucking hated the guy, but Steve still caught himself glancing over at him in the locker rooms after basketball sometimes. And then he felt like sticking his head in an oven.

Steve didn’t know what it was about him and total assholes. The fact that he was looking at Eddie now even made him wonder if the guy was actually a dick, since apparently that was Steve’s type.

You need to chill, Harrington, he told himself. He needed to sober up a little so he could stop thinking this way. Plus, he had to drive home later. So Steve switched to water and told himself that he wasn’t allowed to keep looking at Eddie Munson.

It wasn’t working.

That annoying voice in Steve’s head kept saying, But don’t his eyes look nice in this light? and, His hair looks soft. Bet it smells nice, too, and, Aren’t you curious what it would be like? That was the problem. Steve was curious. He didn’t know if kissing a boy would be like kissing a girl, and there was a part of him that he was usually better at shoving down that wanted to find out. Ever since he had seen Eddie kissing that guy, all of that curiosity had been funneled directly into a fixation with him. If Steve did want to kiss a boy, just to see what it was like, he had anecdotal evidence to suggest that Eddie might be an option.

Steve tried to ignore the impulse. He tried to tell himself not to be stupid, that he wasn’t drunk enough for this. He tried to make himself look anywhere else in the room except for at Eddie Munson’s lips. But despite his best efforts, that voice in Steve’s head kept chanting, Don’t you want to know, don’t you want to know, don’t want to know, don’t you want to—

“Can I talk to you?”

He wasn’t quite aware of how he had gotten there, but Steve had crossed the room to Eddie, who was now blinking at him in surprise. Steve forced himself to look at Eddie’s eyes, not his lips. It was mostly working.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Eddie said, “What’s up, Harrington?”

“Not here,” Steve said. He turned and started heading for a hallway, glancing once behind him to make sure Eddie was following. Steve had spent enough time in this house to know where the secluded places were. He led Eddie to a back hallway that he knew no one would be going through. Steve leaned back against the wall and Eddie stood in front of him, looking confused.

“What is it, Harrington?” he asked.

Steve couldn’t make his tongue form words. He hadn’t planned this at all, hadn’t figured out what he was going to say. And he couldn’t stop fucking staring at Eddie’s mouth.

“Are you trying to buy weed, or?” Eddie asked.

“No,” Steve said. Unbidden, his hand lifted to Eddie’s waist, clutching the fabric of his sweater like a lifeline. Eddie glanced down at it, then back up at Steve.

“What are you doing?” Eddie sounded bewildered. Not upset. Steve couldn’t figure out how to do this. He didn’t know how to get over this hurdle. Eddie curled his fingers around Steve’s wrist that was still at his waist. “You gotta give me something to go on here, Harrington, I have no idea—”

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie froze. “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” Steve repeated, staring into Eddie’s wide eyes, trying to convey just how badly he wanted this. Needed this.

Eddie’s face twitched slightly. “You’re serious,” he said, halfway between a statement and a question.

“Yeah,” Steve said. Eddie looked at him, tongue between his teeth as he studied Steve’s face. Steve felt like he was going to die.

“I—fuck, yeah, okay, why not?” Eddie finally said. Relief trickled from the top of Steve’s head all the way down to his toes. Eddie glanced back in the direction of the party, which was out of sight but still very much closeby. “Here?”

Steve pictured Tommy H or Carol or fucking Nancy rounding the corner and seeing him with Eddie. “Uh, no,” he said. He pushed off the wall and opened the nearest door, which he was pretty sure led to a guest bedroom. He couldn’t find the light switch but clicked a lamp on and saw that he was right. It was a bare room; a plain double bed, a bedside table, a dresser. Eddie followed him inside and Steve closed the door behind them. The doorknob had a lock so he turned it.

Steve looked at Eddie, who was watching him expectantly. Now that Steve was here, he didn’t know what to do. He was regretting his switch to water, wishing he still had the vodka, wishing he was drunker. As the pause stretched out, Eddie’s face softened.

“Hey,” he said, “Do you maybe wanna talk about it first?”

Steve took a deep breath. “Sure,” he said, “Can we sit?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Eddie sat next to him. It occurred to Steve that Eddie wasn’t actually wearing that stupid denim vest he was always wearing. He was in a sweater that Steve had thought was black at first, but that he now saw in the soft lamplight was actually a very dark burgundy. Steve took another breath. Why the fuck was he so nervous?

Eddie angled towards Steve. “So,” he said, “Why do you want to kiss me?”

Steve hadn’t been prepared for that question. He still hadn’t completely worked out the answer for himself. He drummed his fingers along his knee, considering.

“To see what it’s like,” he said finally.

Eddie nodded in understanding. “You want to know what kissing a guy is like.”

“I want to know what kissing you is like.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. Shit. Steve hadn’t meant to say that. It had sort of just fallen out. And was it even true? Yeah, he realized, it was. It wasn’t just any random guy that Steve wanted to kiss; it was Eddie. Specifically.

“Me?” Eddie asked.

“I—don’t know,” Steve said. Shit shit shit. This was not going well at all.

“I, uh, okay,” Eddie said, shifting. “I’m, uh, flattered, but I—”

Steve dropped his face into his hands, groaning. “Will you just shut the fuck up, man?”

“Okay.” There was a pause. Steve felt the bed shift again and then felt a hand on his back, patting it awkwardly.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said into his hands. Eddie retracted his hand. Another pause.

“So, uh—” Eddie started.

“Listen,” Steve said, lifting his head to look at Eddie again. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I don’t really know what’s happening to me.”

“Okay,” Eddie said slowly. “Can I, like, help?”

“Don’t think so, man,” Steve said. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, this was a really stupid idea.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Eddie said, reaching out to put a hand lightly on Steve’s arm. “I mean, like, I’m still down. Just tell me what you want.”

“I… I want to kiss you.”

“So do it.”

Steve took a breath. He shifted closer to Eddie. He lifted a hand to Eddie’s face. He was stalling. Why the fuck was he stalling? Steve had kissed plenty of girls before without a second thought. But now that it was Eddie in front of him, he felt like he was moving through molasses.

What are you waiting for? that voice in Steve’s head asked. Then it took up its chant again: Don’t you want to know, don’t you want to know, don’t you want to know, don’t you—

Steve leaned the rest of the way in and pressed his lips against Eddie’s. He tried to decide if it was any different than the girls he had kissed. Eddie’s mouth fell open against Steve’s, and he tasted like spiked punch. Under that was the taste of cigarettes and weed. That was definitely different than any girl Steve had kissed.

Eddie brought his hands up to Steve’s face, his fingertips brushing against Steve’s hair. Steve leaned deeper into Eddie, put his other hand on Eddie’s back to tug him closer. Eddie made a sound in the back of his throat and Steve gripped his hair. It was as soft as he had expected. Maybe softer.

Steve liked this. He really fucking liked this. Kissing Eddie somehow had him feeling the drunkest and the most clear-headed he had all night. It was kind of surreal.

Steve moved his hand down and slid it back up under Eddie’s shirt. His skin was hot as Steve traced the line of his spine. Steve let go of Eddie’s hair and put his other hand up Eddie’s shirt, dragging over his ribs.

“Steve,” Eddie murmured as Steve started kissing along his jaw and down his neck. Steve didn’t know what Eddie’s tone of voice meant. He didn’t want to decipher it, didn’t want to confront this, didn’t want to do anything other than press his lips and his teeth into Eddie’s skin.

Eddie shifted closer to Steve, tilted his head to give Steve more access to his neck. He had one hand in Steve’s hair, the fingers of his other hand digging into Steve’s shoulder. Steve brought both his hands to Eddie’s waist and re-angled them, pushing Eddie back onto the bed and moving over top of him.

“Steve,” Eddie said again.

Steve lifted his head to look at Eddie. “Is it okay that I’m doing this?” he asked, a little breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek.

Steve kissed him again, and God, it felt so good. Steve hadn’t enjoyed kissing anyone this much since Nancy. But as soon as he had that thought, he felt guilty and confused for thinking about Nancy. His mind shouldn’t have been on her while he had Eddie Munson under him.

Steve broke the kiss and tugged at the bottom of Eddie’s sweater, looking to Eddie for permission. Eddie nodded and lifted slightly off the mattress so Steve could pull the sweater off. Then Steve pulled off his own shirt and went back to kissing Eddie.

His skin felt like it was burning everywhere it touched Eddie’s. He ran a hand along Eddie’s side, over his chest, across his stomach. Eddie exhaled into his mouth as Steve rolled his hips down into Eddie’s. Eddie’s fingers were digging so deeply into Steve’s back that he wouldn’t be surprised if he had bruises later. But he liked the pain, liked how it connected him to Eddie.

An involuntary moan escaped Steve’s lips as Eddie raised his knee and pressed his thigh up between Steve’s legs. Steve was hard, and it was embarrassing because he couldn’t tell if Eddie was too through their jeans. He grinded his hips down again, the contact with Eddie’s leg making his head spin. Eddie made a sound deep in his throat and his own hips twitched up, which Steve took as a good sign. He reached behind him for one of Eddie’s hands and guided it back around to between his legs.

“Steve,” Eddie said, pulling his face away to look into Steve’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He brought their lips together and moved his hand away as Eddie felt him through his jeans. He moaned into Eddie’s mouth as Eddie undid the button and zipper and slid his hand in, still over Steve’s underwear.

“Eddie, please,” he begged, absolutely shameless at this point.

“Impatient,” Eddie murmured.

“Fucking tease,” Steve said. Eddie laughed and then finally, finally, slid his hand under Steve’s waistband.

The cool metal of Eddie’s rings was jarring at first, then felt good. Steve’s hips rocked forward, moving of their own accord at the contact. This, Eddie touching him, was the first time in a long time that Steve felt right, felt like himself again. It was a goddamn miracle.

Before long, he could feel himself getting close. It was embarrassing, really, how quickly Eddie could get him to the brink. But he couldn’t finish yet, not before he’d even touched Eddie.

“Hold on,” Steve said, taking hold of Eddie’s wrist to still his hand. “I want to—Can I—?” Steve trailed a hand down Eddie’s abdomen, hovering over his belt buckle. Steve felt gratified now that he could see that Eddie was also hard.

Once Eddie nodded his consent, Steve undid the buckle. He pressed a kiss against Eddie’s throat, then his chest, his stomach, the patch of skin just above his jeans. Hands shaking a little, Steve undid Eddie’s pants and tugged them down.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie breathed as Steve pulled down his boxers. Steve had never actually done this before, not from this end, but he was pretty sure he understood the theory. And judging by the sound Eddie made when Steve put his mouth on him, he was doing it right.

It was sort of thrilling, actually, to be able to evoke those sounds out of Eddie. A string of curse words in between Steve’s name in between moans. Eddie’s hips were twitching up into Steve, and he had both his hands in Steve’s hair pulling almost hard enough to rip it out, and it all kind of hurt but it was also fucking exhilarating.

At some point, Eddie grabbed Steve and pulled him back up to his mouth. “Come with me,” he said, slipping his hand back into Steve’s boxers. Steve kissed Eddie, hard, teeth cutting into his lip. Eddie’s hips rocked up and Steve closed his hand around him.

After, Steve lifted himself off Eddie, rolling onto his back next to him. He stared at the ceiling, catching his breath. That was good, he told himself. That was really fucking good. He couldn’t figure out why he kind of felt like crying.

In his peripheral, he saw Eddie look at him. Steve looked back. “I’m gonna go wash my rings,” Eddie said.

Steve watched from his back, wordless, as Eddie stood, zipped his pants back up, redid his belt, and pulled his sweater back on. He crossed to the door and opened it a crack, glancing out. He must have determined that the coast was clear, because then he opened it all the way and stepped out. Eddie gave Steve a wave over his shoulder as he pulled the door shut behind him.

Steve put his hands over his face. What the fuck just happened? What the fuck had he done? He felt his chest get tight, felt his shoulders shake. And then he just started sobbing.

#rip all of the art i drew for this fic that got lost #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ao3 #fic rec #copying and pasting from ao3 add random spaces between some of the words and idk how to fix it im sorry

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the-cult-of-russo · 1 year

Text

Poetic Tragedy (Part 4)

Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo

Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues, mentions of sexual assault. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess?

A/N: This one’s a little shorter. Some sad bonding anyone? lmao

—------------------

Your eyes fluttered open and you groaned softly. Your body felt heavy, like it was being weighed down. Every inch of you, muscles you didn't even know you had, hurting like a bitch. The room was still bathed in darkness and a quick glance to the clock told you it was 5:32 am. You felt cold. Too cold. You sat up with a pained whimper, your body protesting at the movement as you started to shiver violently. Your eyes were blurry as they watered and you sniffled. You felt like you had the flu. Suddenly, Billy was sitting on the bed in front of you.

“Here, you need this,” he murmured, holding out a bottle of water. The angry face he wore earlier had seemed to vanish and now his dark eyes were looking over you with concern. You went to take it but your hands were shaking badly, you couldn't even grab it. So Billy put one hand under your chin as the other helped you drink it. You drank greedily, feeling like you hadn't had a drink in weeks. You gasped when you were done, quickly pulling your cardigan tighter around yourself as you trembled. Billy got up and you were wondering what he was doing, but then you felt your stomach roll terribly. You dove off the bed, slipping but catching yourself on the wall before you ran to the bathroom. You dropped to your knees with a hard thud and just managed to throw up into the toilet. The water you just drank came up along with the food Karen had given you the night before. Your heaves were painful, your stomach clenching so hard it felt like it was trying to implode in on itself. You felt like you couldn't breathe and you knew this wasn't even the worst of it. You cried between your heaves, hands clenching the toilet bowl tightly as you willed it to stop. Willed the pain to end. You felt a hand holding your hair from your face, another rubbing your back soothingly. You knew Billy was speaking but you couldn't hear him over your painful dry heaves after your stomach ejected everything out of it. You felt odd, almost like you were drunk as your head spun. Everything felt like it was moving around you. You cried into the toilet bowl, murmuring nonsense as you swayed. Then you fell into a heap in front of the toilet as you passed out.

When you next woke up, it was with a pained cry as you sat up, eyes snapping open. You gasped, writhing in pain as the heat seemed to consume you. You felt like someone was roasting you alive and you felt the pain down to your bones.

“No… No, please,” you mumbled deliriously, getting out of bed and stumbling.

“Y/N… what is it?” Billy asked. Your eyes were everywhere yet taking in nothing as you tugged your cardigan off like it had offended you. But suddenly he was in front of you, putting his cool hand to your face.

“Shit,” he muttered as he went to move his hand away. You whined, feeling the loss of the cold immediately.

“It’s… It’s too hot… I can’t…” you rambled as you started to tug your clothes off.

“What… Don’t do that,” Billy frowned, shaking his head but you really couldn't focus on him when you felt this intense burning. You were left in nothing but your panties but you didn’t feel any relief and you let out a pathetic sob.

“I… Please make it stop. Make the burning stop please,” you begged brokenly, swaying on your feet. His cool hand took one of yours and you almost fell over as he slowly guided you to the bathroom. You heard the shower go on and then Billy picked you up, putting you in the bath under the shower. You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes as the cold water pelted your skin, but it didn't do much to quell the raging fire on the inside.

“Just… Just stay here, alright? I’ll be back in a minute,” he murmured, quickly leaving the room. Your head came to rest on the tiles as you sniffled, shaking your head. You couldn't do this. You really couldn't. You knew this could last anywhere from three to ten days. You couldn't stand three more days of this hell, let alone ten. The thought made your knees buckle. You needed him to let you go. You had no money but you knew you could get your shit off Josh. You’d just sleep with him, it wasn't like you hadn't done it before. Maybe if you let him touch you properly, you could get a longer supply. You just needed to get out of here, needed to convince Billy to let you leave. You’d do whatever it took for this to stop.

You got out of the shower, still soaking wet, but you ignored it as you padded into the bedroom, using the wall as support as you went. Billy was talking in a hushed voice on the phone but as he glanced at you, he quickly hung up.

“You should get back in there, sweetheart,” he soothed, a small frown on his face as he looked at you. He seemed like a different person from the one you knew. When he got to you, you fell to your knees at his feet.

“Please. Please just let me go. I can’t do this, I can't. I’ll do anything you want, anything, just please,” you begged desperately, reaching for his belt. That's what guys always wanted, right? Maybe he’d let you go if you gave him something. But as you started to undo his belt, his hands snatched yours as he looked down at you in shock.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked incredulously. A heaving sob left your lips as you hung your head in shame, your hands still in his as you cried. What were you doing? Trying to service him like this all for some shit you didn't even really want. But you needed it and it was all you could think about. Your sobs were loud and painful, raw and broken. You felt your hands drop to your lap as you sat there wet and just in panties, shame curling around you tight. You wondered if he’d had enough of your bullshit now. If he’d stop trying to be nice to you at all. But then you felt a large fluffy towel being wrapped around you. You blinked your blurry tearful eyes at him as he sat on the floor at your side, his legs spread either side of you. And then he pulled you to his chest as he embraced you. It made you cry harder at the human contact you’d always been denied as he rubbed your back with one hand as the other cradled your head. You just wept brokenly into his chest.

“It’s gonna get better,” he murmured softly, stroking your wet hair. You shook your head against his chest, your own heaving as you tried to breathe through your tears.

“I can’t do it, I can’t,” you lamented painfully. He moved you away from his chest, his hands gripping your shoulders as he made you look at him. You wobbled a little, trying to get your eyes to focus but the pain was distracting.

“You can. You’re strong, Y/N. All the shit you’ve been through, and here you are, still fightin’ every damn day. I know this is hard, I know you think you can't do it, but you can. You just gotta fight it, sweetheart. I know you can do it,” he implored, his dark eyes boring into you. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe you could do this and finally be free of all of it. But all you felt was utter devastation and hopelessness. You really hadn't expected him to be your biggest cheerleader with how he acted the night before, but you were grateful you weren't going through this alone, even if he had forced this on you.

“I just… It… hurts,” you sniffled miserably. He gave you a pitying look as his hands came to cradle your face and he wiped the rivulets of tears cascading down it.

“I know it does, but I’m here. Gonna take good care of you, alright? Whatever you need,” he soothed.

He stood up and you watched from the floor as he toed his boots off before taking off his hoodie. You had no idea what he was doing but you groaned, shifting at the pain as it seemed to ricochet off every part of your body. He took his shirt off then and afterwards, his jeans. It left him in just a black pair of boxers and you might have appreciated the sight more if you didn't feel like you were on the verge of death. He was beautiful, even with all of his scars. You hadn't really noticed before since he’d been so antagonistic towards you. He came back over, helping you up to your feet. Your head was spinning like you were on a merry-go-round and he guided you back to the bathroom where the shower was still running cold. He picked you up again only this time, he stepped into the shower with you. In the back of your head, a voice was telling you that he wasn't feeling the same burning pain you were and the freezing water wouldn't be pleasant for him, but he made no complaints about it. He’d kept your towel on, probably for your modesty, and it felt like it was taking all of your energy just to stand up. He wrapped his arms around you and you sagged against his chest, letting the water try to put out the fire you were feeling. He stayed in the shower with you for what felt like hours but it could have been minutes for all you knew. Nothing made sense anymore. But eventually, he helped you out of it and even dried you since you hadn't been able to do it yourself. He’d carefully averted his eyes as he did but drew the line as getting you out of the wet panties. He’d given you his t-shirt to wear. It was large on you, coming mid-thigh. It smelt like him though and it was oddly comforting. He ended up putting you back in bed and sitting beside you, leaning against the wall. You gravitated towards him without thinking in your current state, needing to feel something cold. His smooth skin was freezing to the touch and you curled around him, your head on his chest. He didn't move away though and instead, he wrapped an arm around you, the other coming to your hair, much like he had on the floor.

“Tell me something, anything. I need a distraction,” you mumbled pleadingly into his chest. The heat wasn't as intense as it was before but you still felt pain in every part of your body and you knew the heat would come back eventually. You felt him rubbing your scalp and you tried to focus on the pleasant feeling instead of everything else you were going through. His body tensed a little at your words and you felt him roll his shoulder. You’d seen him do that a few times, you wondered why.

“I uh… My mom gave me up as a kid. She was a jun-... an addict. Decided drugs were more important than her own son,” he started quietly. You felt a pang of something in your chest that felt a lot like guilt. You weren't sure if this had anything to do with the reason why he felt the need to make you go through this.

“Ended up in a group home. No one wanted me so I stayed there until I aged outta the system. Then I joined the Marines, met Frank and… Well, you know the rest,” he muttered. You nodded against him, starting to shiver once again. His arm tightened around you as you whimpered softly and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Back at the group home, there was this guy… I was about 10 or 11 and he… let’s just say he liked me a little too much. He didn’t manage to… I got him good with a stickball bat but he broke my arm and tore my rotator cuff,” he breathed, shifting a little under you. Your heart ached at his story, knowing all too well what it was like to be taken advantage of.

“When you asked me why I play hero… It's ‘cause… There’s real evil out there. People like… like Arthur or… or Rawlins. They take what they want and they don't give a shit. Some of ‘em prey on the vulnerable and they… they just fly under the radar and get away with it. Or some of ‘em are so high up the food chain they think they're untouchable. And that's why I do what I do. ‘Cause people like that need to be dealt with. It ain’t just the… the mobs and the murderers, ‘cause murder ain’t the worst thing that can happen to someone. If I can stop even just one person from hurtin’ someone else, makin’ them go through that pain, then I will,” he rambled uncertainly. It was hard for his earnest words to soak through the pain-filled haze you were in. With your temperature so high, you felt out of it and delirious. Like you’d had a few bottles of whisky.

“You’re a good man, Billy Russo,” you mumbled, voice muffle slightly with how hard you were pressing your face to his chest seeking out his coolness. He scoffed at your words and you looked up as he shook his head.

“No, I’m not. I’ve done a lot of bad shit. You were right the other day, I am an asshole. And yeah, I do this to help people but I do love the violence. Somethin’s always been broken in me and… and after what Rawlins did to me…” he trailed off, his eyes gazing at the wall opposite and they looked unfocused.

“Doesn’t mean you're not a good man. You help people, put yourself in danger to help them. That makes you a good man, none of the rest matters,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. You didn't get to hear his response because you ended up passing out on him.

Hours went by, rotating between the shower and the bed as your body took a beating. Now you were lying on the bed, duvet off as you shivered violently despite how hot you felt. Goosebumps kept breaking out all over your skin and every time they did, it felt like someone was skinning you alive. Billy was perched on the bed, still only in his boxers and you still wearing his shirt. He was holding a cool damp cloth to your forehead as he watched you cry and whimper as you shook.

“Curtis is gonna come and check on you. Make sure this is all… normal,” he muttered tensely. His eyes drifted from you to the door before back to you and you wondered if he was worried you’d bolt it as soon as the door opened. You didn’t think you could with the state you were in. You couldn't move. Not long after, Billy got up and unlocked the door and Curtis came in. He shot you a pitying look with a sigh before he went over to you.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?” he asked, giving you a sad smile. You couldn't even answer him, a pathetic sob leaving your lips as you lay there shivering.

“This is… this is normal, right?” Billy asked from where he stood near the door, a panicked edge to his voice. Curtis looked you over again before walking over to Billy.

“Afraid so,” he shook his head with a frown. Billy shifted on his feet, his dark eyes flicking from you to Curtis rapidly.

“Can’t you do somethin’ about the pain? She’s hurtin’ real bad,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“There’s nothing we can do, she just has to ride it out. I’m sorry, brother,” Curtis said apologetically. Billy nodded, the movement jerky as he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulder.

“Alright… thanks,” he bit out.

“I got you this, courtesy of Karen. It's lasagne,” Curtis smiled wryly as he handed Billy a Tupperware tub. It idly occurred to you then that Billy hadn't eaten the time he’d been with you. You weren't sure how long it had been and you would have felt guilty if you weren't in agony.

“I appreciate it, man. Tell Karen thanks,” Billy sighed. Curtis gave him a friendly tap to the arm, shooting you one last sad look before he left.

You noticed Billy hadn’t locked the door. But weirdly enough, even if you’d had the energy to move, you didn't want to leave anymore. You’d gone through hell and while it wasn't over, you were already knee-deep in this shit. You'd already suffered and it would all be for nothing if you went running off chasing the high once again. Billy’s encouraging words were on a loop in your mind like a mantra as you went through this. You tried to cling to them, to believe you could do this. The addict you was desperate, reckless and riddled with shame. You didn't want to be her anymore, you wanted to be the old you. The one that didn't feel like she’d die if she didn't get her next fix. You couldn't even remember what it was like to not have to worry about all that shit. To just be you without that weighing down on you. You weren't sure how much longer you had to suffer for but you no longer felt the desperate need to leave. You wanted to do this, you wanted to get to the finish line. And you had Billy here to help you, to encourage you to do it. He’d told you that in a few days you’d be thanking him and you knew deep down he was right. You’d never have gotten clean if it was up to you since you’d been too scared to go through with it. You no longer felt angry he’d forced you into this. While the drugs had once numbed you to the pain of the rape, it didn't help you like you thought it would. It became a reminder of it every single time you used, remembering why you started using in the first place. All it did was continue your trauma and add more on top. The man that did this to you didn't just take your dignity. Didn't just take your virginity or your innocence. He’d taken your life from you, turning you to a life of addiction. You’d wasted so much of your life because of the trauma and now you would finally be able to close this chapter of your life.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic

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writer-in-theory · 2 years

Text

purple gel pens — part five

summary: soulmate au where every mark on your soulmate's skin appears on your own pairing: steve harrington x billy hargrove series content warnings: language, period-typical homophobia, implied abuse (neil hargrove)

previous part || masterlist || next part want to join my taglist?

When Steve was ten, he’d found a stray cat in the poolhouse after a pretty rotten storm. The little thing had matted down fur and was far too thin to be healthy, but still, it fought him at every attempt to help it. He kept returning to the poolhouse with food, water, and blankets though because what else was he meant to do? He’d been left alone for nearly two months at that point and the fact of the matter was, he was bored and desperately lonely.

So he kept trying to get the cat to trust him, sliding it a fresh bowl of water and trying to brush a gentle hand over its back while it drank. Each time Steve would return to the main house clutching his hand tightly to his chest, wincing as he disinfected the new scratch in the sink.

Even though it never quite learned to trust him, Steve mourned the day the cat left. It happened when he got home from school one day—he dropped his bike off and immediately ran around to the backyard to check on it. Instead of finding it in the poolhouse, Steve caught sight of its slightly more filled-out body slinking into the trees behind his house. Steve never saw the cat again, and eventually, he learned to stop crying over that loss.

Going to school with a soulmate who didn’t want him felt a lot like that, Steve thought. Billy seemed to want everything to go back to normal like before he’d beat his face in and noticed the matching marks on his own, before he’d admitted to Steve that he didn’t want him. Steve tried that, and when it hurt too badly he even tried to avoid him to give himself time to lick his wounds and recover from the harsh words in any way he could.

But the days passed and it became harder for Steve to understand any part of what had happened. Because Billy was still looking at him with a strange intensity that never eased practically every time they were in the same room, and he still pressed far closer to Steve than he really needed to at basketball practice—and, most damning of all, he still drew little hearts on the inside of their hips.

Steve had thought it was a fluke at first when the faded lines were redrawn in new purple ink. He’d traced his finger over the shape and wondered if Billy had momentarily forgotten the words tossed between each other in the parking lot. His head still ached from the damage Billy’s fists had done to it, and yet the skin by his hipbone burned far more painfully.

It made him gasp when the heart continued to be redrawn, never making it a few days before it was retraced with fresh lines.

Steve never redrew his heart. How could he, when all he could see when he closed his eyes was the fire in Billy’s blues as he told him he didn’t need Steve? That after all this time talking to one another, waiting for one another, his soulmate was suddenly nothing to him. His soulmate meant nothing because it was Steve.

Days went on and bruises healed. His nose would always be a little crooked and he swore he had sharp bursts of pain in his temple that hadn’t been there before, but as far as anyone else knew there was no sign of that November night left on Steve.

Except he still couldn’t sleep without all the lights on, and the second one flickered he was changing the lightbulb just to be sure that was the only problem. He kept his bat just in reach by the bed, always ready in case something tried to sneak into the house. Steve practically jumped out of his seat every time the class bell rang, looking around for whatever it was that wanted to tear him apart. His hands shook when anyone mentioned anything that reminded him a little too much of that night, of the tunnels and the dead demodog he’d shoved into the fridge at the Byers’ house.

And anytime he caught sight of that little purple heart in the dip of his hip, Steve flinched. His eyes turned glassy and he scratched at it, hoping that would be enough to rub the ink out of his skin. It never worked, and instead just led to him sitting on his kitchen counter trying to apply Neosporin to scabbed-over nail tracks.

But Steve was the babysitter, was the one the entire Party knew they could call when there was trouble, so he always had to be ready for them. He was on the phone with Dustin more often than not, coaching him through the little parts of going to school and finding friends that Steve had never had to stop and worry about before. All of it had come so naturally to him that he’d never quite thought about it. Which was why, he supposed, Dustin came to him of all people to ask. He let Lucas and Max use the living room a couple of times a week, hiding upstairs in his room while they laughed about video games and watched reruns of old comedies. They couldn’t go to Max’s for obvious reasons, and the Sinclairs always asked too many questions, and always made sure someone in Max’s family knew where she was. Steve hated the idea of them sneaking around so young, having to grow up under the weight of other peoples’ pressures. So he leaned them the house, always waving off their worries and reassuring them that he was perfectly fine in his bedroom for the night as long as they locked the front door on the way out with the spare key. Even Hopper had begun coming to him for help now, sometimes asking Steve to watch El when he had to go to work on the weekends. He helped Nancy with her relationship concerns with Jonathan (and refused to consider how strange that felt) and hauled the kids to and from the arcade. Steve kept himself busy, so busy that eventually the hurt only ached when he focused on it, pressing in harshly on invisible bruises he wished would disappear as easily as the physical ones.

Steve’s gently held together peace fell to shit in December.

It was the fucking Hawkins Middle School Snow Ball, the one he’d initially signed up to volunteer at because Nancy thought it would be fun. He’d dropped out the second they’d broken up, but he still ended up in the parking lot of the middle school that night. Because Dustin was terrified of going, of trying to find a girl to dance with, and he leaned on his new mentor Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High and overall total douchebag.

Steve sighed the second Henderson climbed out of the car, allowing his head to hit the steering wheel only once before he began to pull away. How could he give that boy so much advice when none of it ever seemed to work for him? All it had gotten him was an old reputation, not enough of a future to feel any sort of relief about the incoming graduation, and too many heartbreaks.

Maybe that bruised ego and sharp guilt were why Steve didn’t drive away when he noticed a familiar figure further out in the parking lot. The outline of a car he’d recognize anywhere was parked just on the edge of the lot, and someone was leaning against it with cool trails of cigarette smoke curling up and away from him.

Suddenly the heart on his hip burned and his eyes saw red.

Sometimes Steve did things without thinking. He ran into the Byers’ house last year against better judgment, just because he’d heard Nancy scream in fear. He started dating Nancy in the first place, knowing each of them had soulmates and would eventually have to break each others’ hearts. Steve even got his own hopes up by submitting college applications, knowing how each and every one of them would come back before he’d even sent them out. Sometimes he did things without thinking, and sometimes he really wished he would stop.

This was one of those times.

Steve felt it deep in his chest even when he first rolled his car around, parking a few spaces from the familiar blue Camaro. He sat in his idling car for a moment, considering what good could possibly come from this.

Steve decided he didn’t exactly care, just that he had something to get off his chest before they all went on winter break.

“I thought I told you to fuck off, Harrington,” Billy’s cool voice called out, lower and a little gritty in a way Steve tried desperately not to think about. He was thankful for the cover of the night, if only so that Billy might not make out the flush spreading over his cheeks at the thought of that voice being used toward him.

“You did,” Steve answered, crossing his arms over his chest and wishing he’d brought a coat with him. He wondered why Billy didn’t either, as the boy stood in the freezing night wearing only jeans and a short-sleeved blue button-up that Steve also tried his best not to pay attention to. He found himself focusing on the earring Billy wore, the pointed end swinging in the air as the other man turned to look at him.

“Then what the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to stop playing games,” Steve snapped and held up a frustrated hand when Billy’s lips immediately parted to retaliate. He recognized that fiery gaze, the danger in the way Billy watched him through long eyelashes. If he wasn’t careful, then his barely-healed face would receive another blow for sure. Steve was sure it would be worth it, this time. “Either you want me around, or you don’t. There’s no in-between, I can’t do that, man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Billy gruffed out, turning his head back to stare ahead of him, lips wrapping around his cigarette for another drag.

“The fucking hearts, Billy!” Steve shouted, hands flying wildly in the air in his frustration. He hoped most everyone had already gone into the building, that the growing wind was enough to conceal their words from anyone else. “You can’t keep doing this to me, it’s messing me up.”

“Oh, am I hurting the poor princess’s feelings?” Billy cooed in saccharine daggers, an amused smirk pulling up the corner of his lips. “I didn’t realize you needed coddling, Harrington.”

“Just stop, okay? What the hell is wrong with you?” His chest buzzed so hard it hurt, making him want to shake out the energy through his arms, legs, anything that could possibly keep him standing there and taking the harsh words thrown at him. Because like it or not, Steve needed closure, now. If this kept carrying on then he would never be able to recover. At least now, before anything happened between them, Steve could pretend that the universe had made a mistake with them, that there was still someone out there who would want to keep him around.

“You want an itemized list or what, pretty boy?”

“Don’t,” Steve warned, surging forward to grab a fistful of Billy’s shirt. It surprised the other boy enough that he dropped his cigarette on the pavement, blue eyes watching with pure amusement and that same intense look. “Stop calling me that, stop pushing me around, and stop drawing that fucking heart on me.”

“You’re pretty fuckin’ hot when you’re mad, princess.”

Steve let out a frustrated shout, dropping his hold on Billy and tilting his head back to the sky as if it had answers for him. How was he meant to deal with the most irritating person he’d ever met for the rest of his life? You won’t have to, he doesn’t fucking want you, remember?

“Is it your life mission to annoy the hell out of me?” Steve groaned, pushing his hand through his hair to keep it busy.

“Is it working?” Billy teased, flashing a toothy grin before his expression fell back into something more familiar—barely-there smirk, eyebrow slightly raised, hard look to his blue eyes. “You haven’t told anyone about,” Billy paused only to gesture between them with a finger, “you know, this?”

“Why would I, there’s nothing here, right Hargrove?” Steve shot back, feeling only a brief satisfaction at the shock of hurt that spread over Billy’s expression before it was pulled tight once more. And maybe it was the fact that Steve was genuinely trying to be a better person after the breakup with Nancy, or maybe it was that the slight fear in Billy’s eyes hurt more than he wanted to let on. Because Steve had caused that himself, had forced the words out with enough harshness to burn.

So he sighed, consulting with the sky once more before correcting, “No, I haven’t told anyone. The kids figured it out the same night we did, they’re too smart for their own goods sometimes.”

Something flashed in Billy’s eyes, something a little too close to fear for Steve’s liking. “All the dipshits?”

It was a confusing question until Steve ran a mental checklist of all the kids that seemed to follow him around like lost ducks and, yeah, well, that made too much fucking sense. “Yeah, yeah all of them. Even your s—”

“I get it,” Billy voiced, practically hissing the words out through his clenched jaw.

“I’ve sworn them to secrecy,” Steve rushed out. “They won’t say anything, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, princess.”

It was getting to be too painful. He hated the way Billy’s eyes focused on his face, flitting about as he seemed to trace every inch of it in his mind. He hated the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips periodically or the way his smirk made his body feel like it would burn up. He hated the way Billy sounded when he called him that, the low tone of his voice forming around the word ‘princess’. He thought hearing Billy calling him ‘King Steve’ affected him, but that was nothing with the way his stomach buzzed after hearing that.

And that, well.

Steve didn’t particularly want to analyze that part of him any more than absolutely necessary.

“I just want to forget any of this happened, okay?” Steve sighed, hoping there wouldn’t be a fist to his nose at his indignation.

“Forget,” Billy sounded the word like it was foreign to his tongue, strange around his lips. He spat the word out on the pavement like he might spit out blood after a particularly brutal fight, and it was like any beginnings of easiness between them were shut out in that moment. Billy stood fully from where he leaned on the Camaro, already grabbing his keys out of his jeans pocket. “Yeah, we can forget, princess.”

And as the car peeled away, Steve was left with the feeling that he fucked up.

He was reminded of that feeling an hour later when the heart disappeared on his hip, being replaced by what looked like a friction burn like Billy had rubbed it off too harshly.

TAGLIST @hargvroves @eddieussy @alessiamargaux @misha-the-mild @minispice-1 @shadetea @emily19990 @groovinbillly @michaels-gardenaesthetic @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @ya-khochu-umeret

#harringrove #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #soulmate au #harringrove fanfiction #stranger jays

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puppetoffthehook · 1 year

Text

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

—————

“And why do I have to do this?” Max’s voice held that same tone it always had when she really didn’t get why someone was trying to get her to do something. Even without turning around, Billy knew she had her arms crossed and that look that always pissed him off.

Things are different now since that summer. He’s really trying to keep the anger down and be better to Max since her mom let him live with them even after his dad took off. Susan’s long hours and all the drinking means Billy needs to get his head out of his ass and be the big brother he should’ve been from the start. Which is why he has a punching bag he got second hand.

“Because, Max. You need to be able to keep yourself safe if you’re alone or with those wimps you call friends.” The blonde reasoned. His curls were pulled back in a ponytail and he was finishing wrapping his hands the way a gym instructor taught him to. “The Upside Down isn’t the only threat to humanity; humans are a big enough threat as it is. Especially to women and kids.”

He watched as the younger teen sat in one of the lawn chairs Susan had picked up to make the trailer feel more “homey.” She didn’t look convinced but Billy hadn’t expected much. Slow and steady takes a long fucking time when you’re sorting out family ties.

“Okay.. So you wanna teach me how to hit people? Like I don’t already know how?”

“If you’re confident then punch me as hard as you can.” He can see her gaze drift to where there’s a mess of scars under his shirt. “It’s been months, Max. I can take your boney hand making contact. Now, c’mon. Hit me with your best shot.”

Max gave a loud, obnoxious sigh like she didn’t want to knock him on his ass but she got up quick enough. It was obvious her dad never got a chance to teach her to throw a punch properly. Either that or she’d forgotten over time, because her thumb was clenched under her fingers and her feet weren’t planted correctly. The connection barely even made him flinch.

“Okay no. First off, you want your thumb on the outside of your fist. Balling it up inside means connecting with a hard surface, like some asshole’s skull, might break your thumb. Second, your stance is too loose. You want your dominant leg forward, the other a bit behind, and pivot that back hip forward into the blow. You’re also gonna rotate your fist when you punch so the first two knuckles contact the target first and won’t break your hand from the force.”

Billy demonstrated a few times before letting Max try. It took no time at all for her to get the skill down. She just needs to work on putting more power behind a blow. He told her so when they went inside so he could make them sandwiches for lunch.

“I don’t remember you ever fighting like that. Before the Mindflayer, that is.” Billy pauses in sipping his beer before he sighs.

“Because before that I didn’t care if I won or lost. Just wanted to feel the pain. Tell myself it was better if I caused than if he did.” They were both quiet a moment before he broke it again. “I also had no fucking idea how; I learned that from a guy at the gym a few weeks ago and told myself you needed to know it. After all, you’re in high school now and high school boys are pieces of shit.”

“Takes one to know one.” Another tense moment of silence filled the kitchen before Billy snorted. Their laughter could be heard beyond the walls of their trailer. Max would be fine, he’s sure of it. Even if his head and body hurt so badly sometimes. Even if there’s sometimes a freaky clock that wasn’t there before. Max will be fine because Billy is going to do better.

1986 is gonna be a hell of a year.

#billy hargrove #drabble #a lovely ‘what if he lived’ sibling bonding experience #hargrove mayfield siblings

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writerwhowritesao3 · 2 years

Note

🎨 and 🚑 !!

Ahhh thank you so much for the ask!!! This turned out...longer than expected. Most of these HCs have been written about/ mentioned in Shout At The Devil. Angst under the cut (tw for trauma, child abuse, SA)

🎨

Billy writes. He’s not serious about it, but yeah, he has a notebook that he writes in. Usually just tiny short stories. Horror stories, science fiction stories, black comedy stories. He also writes random sentence fragments that spontaneously pop up in his brain.

And when things are too much to handle, like when he can’t stop thinking about the things he never wants to think about, he free writes and it’s always so frantic and sloppy and he doesn’t stop until the entire page is so filled with his scrawly handwriting that it’s hard to make out the individual words.

Billy doesn’t share his writing with anyone. He never lets anyone read or even touch his notebook (and he’s gone through quite a few).

But then one day, he says fuck it and types up one of his stories and makes a bunch of edits and adds to it. He doesn’t ask Steve to read it. He asks Nancy to. Because she’s a writer and Billy trusts her to be completely honest. He trusts Steve, but he also knows that if the story sucked, Steve would still think it was good.

So Nancy reads it.

Turns out, Billy is a really good writer. He starts writing a column in the school newspaper that’s a serialized weird fiction story. People actually like it. Billy’s English teacher likes it and gently coerces him to join her after-school creative writing club. He does. And he starts to take his writing more seriously.

He still never lets anyone near his notebook though. That’s something that he wants—needs—to keep for himself.

🚑

Weirdly enough...no, Billy has never been inside an ambulance. Every time he’s been hurt badly enough to need medical attention, he’s always had a ride. And even though Neil is an abusive parent, he’s only been the cause of one of these injuries.

When Billy is 7, he’s at the beach with his parents, running around barefoot (because it’s the fucking beach) and he steps on a shard of broken glass that was just under a layer of a sand. Cuts right into his little 7-year-old foot. His dad carries him to the car and drives them all to the ER while his mom sits with him in the backseat. At the hospital, it takes both of his parents to hold him still so the doctor can dig the glass out of his foot, clean the wound, and stitch him up.

Later that night, Billy hears his mom and dad get into a screaming match over the tetanus booster he had to have. His mom doesn’t think that vaccines are safe/necessary, and she didn’t even want Billy to get the shots you’re supposed to get when you’re a baby. On the opposite side, his dad’s younger brother almost died of polio when they were kids and now Neil is hyper-vigilant about infections and diseases...particularly when his son is involved. That night, his mom learns that Neil had taken Billy to get vaccinated when he was an infant and like...totally loses her shit.

When Billy is 9, his mom accidentally shuts the car door on his index and middle fingers on his left hand. Hard. Both fingers are broken and he needs four stitches on his middle finger. It sucks even more because Billy is left-handed. His mom tells his dad what happened when he gets home from work that night. His dad is furious at her. He starts yelling at her even though Billy is in the room with them. His dad accuses his mom of being careless, of being negligent. Accuses her of taking something called “Bent Sews” (a few years later, Billy realizes that his dad was saying “benzos” and remembers that his mom always had an orange pill bottle in her purse).

His dad inspects the metal-and-gauze braces that the ER doctor put Billy’s fingers in, gently holding his wrist with one hand and resting the other one on Billy’s back. Billy forces himself to stay still even though he kinda wants to pull away. The day before this happened, his dad gave him the belt for the first time, and Billy is still pretty upset and mad about it, and doesn’t really want to be around his dad. And he’s still sore from it, so on top of having two broken fingers he had to sit on a hard exam table in the ER for way too long because his mom broke his fingers because she might have take Bent Sews, and yes it was an accident but Billy still can’t help being mad at her.

And he’s also mad at her because she let his dad hit him with a belt the night before, and yeah, she did comfort him afterwards, she did let him rest his head on her lap and rubbed his back as he cried his damn eyes out, but she also didn’t even try to stop it from happening in the first place, like she didn’t even try to talk his dad out of taking his belt off, and while Billy was sobbing into her skirt she reminded him that his dad had warned him several times that this would happen if he didn’t stop whatever 9-year-old thing he was doing and she told him that he needed to watch his behavior better around his dad because he knows what he’s like.

When Billy is 14, he breaks his right wrist during basketball practice. It’s just one of those “trip and land badly” type of deals. Susan takes him to the ER. It hurts enough that Billy cries in the car on the way, but it’s nothing traumatic.

When Billy is 15, his dad breaks his collarbone. The week before, Billy had gone to a frat party because he was trying to meet up with the college guy he was hooking up with. Instead, some other guy spikes his drink and r*pes him.

A week after it happens, Billy finds himself cruising and getting cruised by random older men and hooking up with them because he desperately needs to feel in control of his body and he desperately needs to push the assault as far away from his mind as possible (it doesn’t work). The last time he does this, he goes with a man to a party and ends up staying out all night, drinking, doing coke, and engaging in sex acts that he’s deeply ashamed of even years later. He’s out all night and doesn’t get home until the next morning.

Susan, and Neil, are out of their minds worried about him. Susan drops Max off at a friend’s house and goes driving around the neighborhood looking for him while Neil stays home in case Billy shows up. Billy comes home exhausted and coming down from a night of doing coke. Neil’s relief that his son is alive and in one piece quickly turns to anger. He demands to know where Billy was—he says he was at his friend Ryan’s house and he forgot to call to let them know he was spending the night.

Neil is fucking pissed. He grabs Billy. Billy jerks away from him and yells “get the fuck off of me!” His dad grabs him again. Billy pushes him away. His dad grabs him again and shoves/throws him to the ground in a fit of blind rage. Except he misjudges the force he uses and Billy lands badly enough that his collarbone breaks. Both of them hear the bone snap. Neil is visibly horrified at what he’s done. He tries to help Billy stand up. Billy doesn’t want Neil to touch him. Neil takes him to the ER. Billy tells the nurses and doctors that he had been fooling around on his friend’s trampoline and fell off.

When they get home, Billy tells Susan and Max the same lie: that he had been at Ryan’s all night and that morning they were fooling around on his trampoline, and that’s how he broke his collarbone. When Billy’s out of the sling, Neil matches the money Billy had been saving up to buy the Camaro and helps him the navigate the processes and paperwork involved in registration and insurance. He’s still a week away from his 16th birthday and so he doesn’t even have his license yet.

When Billy is 16, he’s bitten by a strange and horrifying creature in their backyard. Neil and Susan are both out. He and Max get a ride to the hospital from their neighbor. They tell people that Billy was bitten by a coyote. He needs a few stitches in his arm and also needs to get a series of rabies shots. Their parents meet them at the hospital as soon as they get the message from the neighbor. Later, Billy and Max learn that the creature is called a demodog...and there are a lot more of them in Hawkins.

When Billy is 16, barely 3 weeks shy of his 17th birthday, on July 4, 1985, he is stabbed multiple times by the Mind Flayer after, like, 3 days of it possessing him and making him drink bleach and other corrosive chemicals. He doesn’t ride in an ambulance—he’s airlifted to a military hospital and is in surgery for almost 7 hours.

#Billy Hargrove #asks #neil hargrove #susan hargrove #Max Mayfield #harringrove #Billy and Nancy are bros

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 years

Text

Never Quite Enough

Billy Russo x reader

Warnings: sadness, depression, betrayal, mentions of sex, paaaiiinnn

Summary: You find out that Billy made a bet.

A/N: read at your own risk. Happy ending not guaranteed. @idaofinfinity ❤

Title comes from one of my favourite songs, Redecorate by Twenty-one Pilots.

Also, I didn't re-read, so 🤞

If you could put a finger on where it all went wrong, you'd probably point at the Fourth of July brunch party.

It was when you decided that maybe you liked Billy a little more than normal. That maybe his swift kisses and the gentle trail of his fingers over your back made you feel like there was something on fire inside of you, alive, tingling... fluttering.

Your heart, learning how to beat for someone else, to sputter and kick all from the heat of his eyes and the upwards tilt of his mouth.

Only to be crushed a month later at the Fire Cheif's Charity Gala. It had been so unassuming too, you hadn't meant to eavesdrop, you just didn't realise how unnoticed you'd truly gone.

"At the end of the month, the price is doubled. Two hundred g's if he lasts that long."

You'd briefly wondered what you were hearing.

"No way Russo can last that long. I thought he'd be tapping out after the first month, but the man's stubborn when it comes to bets." Someone else says.

Billy? He'd made a bet?

"Surely she's not that bad, maybe just a little talkative?"

Everyone in the group laughs.

"Nuh uh, annoying. She's annoying and the longer he puts up with her, the more money he gets."

Billy? Your Billy?

You finally decide to make yourself known to the conversation.

"Is that true?" You say, finally moving around so that everyone can see you.

Their expressions of shock confirm everything you need to know.

"Is it?" You say, turning to the nearest man, Andrew, you think his name was.

He doesn't speak.

"You made a bet?" You pry, "To see how long Billy could stay with me? Because- because I'm annoying?"

No one answers but your heart is crumbling to pieces in your chest, grinding into sand when you hear someone behind you say your name.

Not just someone- him, holding two champagne flutes in his hands, after he'd kissed the top of your head a few minutes ago and said he'd be right back.

His expression is one of denial, a subtle shake of his head.

"Is that true? You bet on me?" You ask him, backing away as he takes a step closer. Your voice doesn't shake, but every memory of him in your head is slowly being tainted, shock, anger hurt- so much hurt- bleeding in.

A server passes a little too close behind you, and it brings you back into the moment, realising where you are, and who you're with, slowly beginning to understand that you were not among friends.

"Wow," Walter says with humour in his tone after you walk away, "I guess she can be shocked speechless."

You look down for a second, breathing out a sigh, before you turn and walk away from him.

Billy hisses through his teeth angrily.

"You're all fucking fired." He says, slamming down the glasses of champagne onto the nearest table, letting them splash around haphazardly, as he chases after you.

Truthfully, Billy had been enamoured with you from the first kiss.

The group sits in stunned silence for a long while after.

He hadn't known you for long enough before that first kiss, only a few babbling interactions that made him think you were a bit chatty, but he'd definitely exaggerated the first time he'd spoken about you to his friends.

It's how the bet had started.

"I bet you can't last a month with her." Andrew suggested.

Billy had groaned in displeasure.

Someone else had offered to double it if he could last two months.

Billy had smiled, shook hands, and told them he'd see them in two months, 200k richer.

It had never occurred to him at the time, that this was a terrible thing to do, that this could backfire in his face so badly.

You weren't trying to escape him, you were just, done. You'd collected your coat from the front, and you'd stepped out into the cold streets of New York to hail a cab, aware that he was chasing after you.

It was occurring to him now, as he chased after you, his heart being pushed into his throat, that he was a very bad person.

It had turned out, that the bad things people said about you, Billy had said about you too.

Why was that surprising? It shouldn't be. You were annoying, talkative, needy, not even that attractive-

He calls your name and your thoughts freeze.

You sigh.

"Look, it's okay," you start, desperate for him to leave you alone, "You don't have to- It's okay."

But it wasn't okay, you felt like you were about to burst. Going home like this was probably a bad idea.

"It wasn't like that." Billy says behind you, and you let out another long sigh, "I never wanted to hurt you, and... I wasn't going to break up with you after the two months because I really like being with you." He walks around till he's facing you, reaching for your hand, but you tug it away in the last second.

"Please." He murmurs, his voice cracking, "Give me a chance to explain. Please."

You looked into his eyes, and you realised that you couldn't feel a thing, your mind had numbed every emotion until there was an emptiness inside you.

Behind him, a cab comes to a stop.

"Why would I ever trust another word that leaves your mouth, Billy?" You spit at him, before moving around him and stepping into the cab.

Charming you had been easy. He was Billy Russo after all. You'd gotten a little too tipsy the first time you'd met, and though you insisted you were fine, Billy had still persisted in taking you home. You apologised the entire way, citing the rough work week as a catalyst for your alcoholism. He'd only reassured you, walking you to your door, one hand around your hip when you wobbled a bit too much for his liking.

You give the cab driver your address, not even bother to look back at your ex-boyfriend as you drive away.

He'd sneaked his number into your phone, with a firm command to let him know you were okay in the morning.

He hadn't gotten a text till early afternoon.

Hi Billy, Y/N here, I'm alright, didn't die.

Only a week later and you were sitting on his lap, kissing him in his car.

He couldn't resist smiling.

How could one person's mouth feel so good?

The first kiss between you, but you had his hair gripped in your hands, pressing your body against his so forcefully like you wanted to be one with him or something.

Giggling shyly after you pulled away, apologising for the enthusiasm, as if Billy hadn't decided that he was all in the moment you moaned hotly into his mouth.

It was easy to be around you. You never pushed him to share. Your talking could fill the space for both of you and he never felt pressured to respond.

The way you looked at him when he was inside you for the first time had taken his breath away. Your head on his shoulder as you sank down onto his cock. Your bare bodies on top of your sheets, his hands gripping the sides of your ass, daring you to leave him.

"Please." You'd whispered so meekly against his skin. Your eyes blissed and watery and filled with desperation. His heart had hammered, his cock got stiffer. He'd never seen a woman so pliant above him. He was usually attracted to fierce women, beautiful and deadly.

You were... soft... like gentle rain on a sunny day.

You melted into him the way cotton candy melts on the tongue, sweet, and Billy found himself desperate for more.

Getting to know you hadn't been as bad as everyone had claimed. You were just you, a little talkative, a little eccentric, you smiled when he spoke, and you grabbed his hand when something excited you or scared you and Billy was left to wonder which it was because your face would never give it away. You were jumpy too, loud sounds, or people getting too close.... it made him curious about your past.

But it had only been a month, and for all the things you said, you never spoke about that.

He was honestly just going to date you, pretend to be annoyed about it, win the bet, and then win the girl.

But as he watched you drive away, your hands covering your face, Billy realised that he should have come clean from the second he realised he had real feelings for you.

You wanted to waste away. To stop having to exist so that you wouldn't know what the pain of this felt like. Every interaction was now tainted. Tainted with the knowledge that you were annoying. No, even worse, you were so annoying you'd been made the punchline of a joke.

He didn't know what to do. He tried to call, but you didn't answer. He left voice messages, rambling and incoherent, the most he's probably ever spoken; but if he were you, he'd delete them without a second thought.

A joke you thought had been one of the happiest times of your life... but it had been used as fuel for someone's laughter.

You make it home, sighing. You lean against the door, sliding down, already too exhausted to do anything. The floor is cold, but you think it's probably what you deserve, lying on the floor at the front of your apartment.

Billy had been so welcoming, so friendly, he'd made you feel like your quirks were amazing. But you should have known.... you should have fucking known.

You were not amazing in any aspect.

Your phone won't stop ringing. It rings until it dies, you feel like doing the exact same.

You just wanted to waste away.

Instead you sit up. Your body on autopilot, you kick your shoes off and pull the tight fabric of your dress from your skin.

It's maybe two in the morning, you'd been lying on the floor for hours. You manage to be able to draw yourself a bath and you slip inside.

You wash it away, any trace of his touch from your skin, your hair, your mouth, you wash it away with a tired sigh.

You lay in bed next, and you can still smell him, but you don't have the energy to change the sheets.

You hear someone moving in the apartment upstairs, a few footsteps here and there. The tinkle of a cat's collar as it pads after its owner and you can still smell him like he's here with you and it reminds you that he never wanted to be here in the first place.

You can only get a few bites of food down each time before your stomach turns. Forcing yourself to eat more makes things worse. So you only take small bites, and when your stomach tells you to stop, you do.

You sleep on the couch instead.

You gather his things into a little box, put it at the door, you'll give it back to him when you can. You decide to take a week off from work, telling your boss that you caught a really aggressive flu and you're highly contagious.

The cat from the apartment above scratches at your window. You let him in so that he can wreak havoc, and also make you feel a little better. Should you adopt a cat? No. It didn't work into your plan of wasting away. You'd settle for- you check his collar- Butter for now.

In some ways, you think it might be true.

"What kind of name is Butter?" You ask the orange cat.

He meows in answer.

When there's a knocking at your door, you assume it's Butter's owner looking for the mischievous cat.

You should have checked first before you opened the door.

You don't say anything, but your semi- okay mood drops away.

He looks dishevelled, maybe a little, but you really don't care.

For someone as smart and successful as he is, he really sucks at getting the message.

"Please, please let me explain." He says at the door. His eyes are so dark, glittering like gems.

They're beautiful, but they're a lie.

"Sorry, Billy, you'll just have to settle for one month's winnings because I'm not interested in continuing to pretend."

"That's not-"

"Anyway," you reach for the little box you left at the door, extending it to him, "This is just some stuff of yours that I had. I'll see you at work, Mister Russo."

His voice cracks when he says your name. You pretend you don't hear it, closing the door in his face softly, pressing your forehead to the door.

"Please," he says to you through the door, "I'm sorry, I never meant for it to happen this way. I liked you. I really liked you."

You take a deep breath, mustering the strength to speak through the door.

"Go tell it to your therapist." Is all you say, before you turn and walk away.

#billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #my writings #billy russo x female reader #the punisher

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camaro-and-smokes · 2 years

Text

August

Chapter 2: Games, games, games

Rating: Mature Warnings: Emotional hurt Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Tags (for the whole fic): Fluff, boys kissing, au where everyone lives, no supernatural events, emotional hurt

Chapters: [CH 1] Chapter 2 / ?

Read on AO3 >>

Summary: Steve changes his mind with disastrous results.

::::::::::

For hours they drove around, talked, stopped to make out, and when satisfied, repeated the pattern again.

On one make out stop "I want you" slipped from Billy's lips. Steve smiled, and ran his thumb over Billy's thirsty lips, drawing a sigh out of him. "Are you sure?" "Yes." Steve took a deep, shaky breath. He hadn't thought it would be this easy. But his thoughts had changed, a bit. "You know, I was thinking that..." When Steve paused for a while too long for Billy’s taste, Billy froze. Then he took Steve's hands off from his face – and the perfect moment broke like a soap bubble. "You thought of what?" Billy asked, worried. Steve recognized the concerned look on Billy's face from so many dates he'd had with guys before, and he rushed to end his thought. "Can we wait?" “Okaay...You're sending me mixed messages here, “Billy said and frowned. “What we've been doing the whole evening has been pretty obvious on what you want from me.” “Well, I thought I wanted it.” “I did something wrong, did I?" Billy asked, his hand already hovering on the key in the ignition. "No! You did nothing wrong. I...You're..." Steve tried to find the right words. He was panicking for he'd clearly messed the date with the sudden change of mind, even though it was meant to be a good thing. Billy had interpreted it as rejection. "You're perfect." A stunned silence lingered between them as they both were as surprised by the words. "Ok, that one I know. It always comes with a 'but'," Billy said, and the Camaro barked to life. "No!" Steve yelped. Shit he thought to himself, this went south fast. “You're perfect in every way. When I saw you for the first time by the pool I knew I had to have you. Lust at first sight." "Well, congratulations, you're not the first one to say that." "No, you didn't, ugh, just hear me out! Now that I've gotten to know something about you I was thinking that maybe we, you know," Steve tried to pull his thoughts together as fast as he could to keep Billy from running away from him. "I was hoping that we might be more than just a one night stand." Billy frowned as if he didn't quite understand the concept. Steve put his hand on Billy's hand on the wheel. "I don't just want to fuck you. I do want that, a lot. But I also want to know more about what's going on inside your head." Billy bit his lip. "Are you serious?" "I am. Does it hurt if we..." "If we drag it a bit so that it gets sweeter? Better? Hotter? With whatever you learn more of me during that time?" Billy asked. "Maybe," Steve smiled and took a deep breath internally for having saved the situation. "So that I fall in love with you and then my heart is ripped out and torn into pieces when you leave in August? Because I can't come with you, because I'm stuck here in this fucking hellhole for one more year. Or maybe you won't even want me to come with you because I wouldn't fit your life when you go back. No matter what, I'd be left behind. No thanks." Steve's heart sank as he heard the bare down-to-the-bone words coming out of Billy's mouth. "Billy, you got it all wrong, that's not at all what I meant," Steve sighed. Billy said nothing as he turned the car around and towards the quarry.

Steve leaned to his car and watched as the back lights of the Camaro vanished behind the curve, taking away last of the light from the quarry, and leaving him alone in the darkness. He felt really shitty. He had no idea Billy was that fragile. Billy's tough cover was just that, a facade. He'd gotten hurt sometime, badly, and now when the cover was scratched even slightly the wrong way, the hurt was what first emerged.

More than anything, Billy had seemed to just need someone to listen to him. When Steve had let him just talk and open up a bit, Steve had really liked what came out. Billy could ramble about his car, California, and surfing, endlessly, and Steve hadn't interrupted him, because he liked seeing Billy being so excited. Ok, Billy had a point - he would leave Hawkins in the end of the summer. But fuck it. How would they know if anything was worth anything if they didn't spend more time together? If they didn't get to know each other better? He would have to go and apologize, and to convince Billy that he was worth another chance. That he wouldn't hurt him, that he was serious. He would go all in, wine and dine and woo, and hope, hope, that Billy would see that he was for real. Because to his own surprise, Steve was more serious about Billy than he'd ever been before about any other guy.

It was early afternoon next Tuesday, and Billy had just finished teaching the second swimming class of the day. He was taking the float boards back to the storage room, when Steve was suddenly standing in front of him, keeping the storage room door open. Billy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Not this shit. Not today , he thought to himself. He shot a glare at Steve as he walked into the storage room. "What do you want?” “I want to talk to you,” Steve said and closed the door behind them. “What is there to talk?” “I don't want to hurt you. I want the opposite.” “I've heard those words before and they're all empty. Go fuck yourself, Harrington,” Billy snarled, and threw the boards to the back of the room instead of piling them up, and turned to leave. Steve grabbed his arm to stop him. “Please. I haven't had such a good time with anyone in a long time than I did with you on Saturday. I mean, before I messed it up. I really want to get to know you better, Billy. Can we please try again? Because no one knows how things end up before they happen.” “On my experience they always end. Period.” “I don't know what happened to you, but someone hurt you, badly. And I'm so sorry that it happened to you. But I'm not that guy. Just give me a chance to prove it. Please.” Billy took a deep breath. He glanced at Steve, and his face softened when he saw the plea in Steve's eyes. “Fine. One chance. One.” Steve sighed of relief. “Thank you. You won't regret it.” "So. What do you have in mind?” “Are you free on Saturday?” “Yeah.” “Come over at my parent's place. They're not home. Is eight ok?”

Madness. Mad-ness. Billy had repeated the word to himself again and again throughout the days that lead to Saturday. When it finally arrived, his anxiety was shooting through the roof, and he was on the brink of just not going, and swearing on never talking to Steve again. He'd been hurt so many times, and with everything else going on in his life, he didn't know why on earth he was doing this to himself. Setting himself vulnerable to yet another heartbreak, one in the line of many. He already knew how this would end. But the way Steve made him feel...He wanted to fight it, but he couldn't help it. Steve made him feel as if he meant something. That his thoughts weren't stupid. That he wasn't stupid. That he was something more than just a piece of meat.

So, he found himself at Steve's door at eight.

It took a while for Steve to come to the door. When he did, Billy flashed him his most gorgeous smile. "Hi." He almost laughed when he saw Steve suddenly leaning to the door and taking a bit harder grip of the handle. "Hi," Steve said with uneven voice, then quickly clearing his throat. "Yeah, hi, come in." Billy took a look around. The hall was massive, and the living room it opened to was even bigger. “Nice crib,” he said. “Well, it's not mine, it's my parent's. You should see my own place. It's a closet,” Steve said. “But it's mine.” They stood in the hall for a while, awkward as if what they had done a week earlier never happened. "So, uh, I was thinking, do you want to see a movie or...maybe a board game," Steve said. Billy couldn't leave the obvious pun go unattended. "See a board game?” he asked smirking. Steve groaned, but let out a laugh. "Not what I meant but sure, we can do that too." Billy couldn't help smiling. Lots of guys wanted to play games with him on a date for sure, but never board games. "I haven't really played any in a long time." "Well, there’s a pool table in the basement." Billy's eyes widened in surprise. "An actual pool table? Full size, stone and fine cloth?" Steve nodded. "You any good at eight ball?" "Any good?" Billy teased. "Pretty boy, I'll beat your ass." “Yes!” Steve pumped his fist and started towards the basement door. Billy couldn't help but laugh as he followed him down to the basement. "You're awfully excited about losing," he kept teasing Steve. "If I get to lose to you, I'll take it," Steve smiled as he set the balls on the table.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #billy hargrove redemption #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #steve x billy #billy x steve #suometar writes #august

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solarianradiance · 4 months

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Princess Bubblegum pulled herself from the river that Lady threw her into, which washed her downstream. She crawled onto the bank and falling onto her back, coughing up soda that got into her gummy lungs.

“Dangit Lady!” She spurted. “Girl got a deathwish or somethin?” She was angry at her companion. Forcing her to abandon the fight so Lady could take on the Ice King, maybe get herself killed. Then she thought about it for a moment and realized Lady Ranicorn was no slouch when it came to fighting, she would probably be fine, even if the Ice King did freeze her.

Good thing it was Ice Magic the geezer used and not actual normal Ice, otherwise a lot of important people PB cared about in some way would probably be dead. Still, being frozen by him is a bit of a traumatic experience, it happened more than once to Bubblegum and she ALWAYS needed to scratch parts of herself really badly when it happened.

She sat up and examined her weapon. Most of the parts were fine, nothing she could not fix and it could operate even when drenched like it was. She did design the flamethrower to work when wet. But the hose was the issue, it had a slit in it. Plus it was gray and not red like she remembered it was.

She took a piece of her gum hair and pressed it hard into the slit. Then she tested out her weapon. Only thing that came out was a spray of sparkles before the gum popped out, causing it to cease.

“URRRAAAGGGH!!!” The Princess yelled in frustration. She then fell onto her back, her crown falling off as she splayed herself out as she stared up into the clouded blue sky above, wondering if this is a divine punishment for what she did to the Snow Seers and the Ice Jarls. They did keep him sealed away, capturing him every time he escaped every century or so.

“Why did they have to be friends with Gumbald...” She whispered to nobody. “Why’d they have to be butts and not obey me like they did with him?”

She felt pain within her, her strength was drained. Part of her wanted to abdicate and just run away from it all. Let the Kingdoms fall, let the peoples know what its like to be without her. Let the Evil within her Castle loose. Let the Lands of Ooo and all the world burn and drown in a sea of emerald green fire, just like it did centuries ago.

Then she felt a deeper pain, one tinged with shame as she knew she was stressed and she was just being selfish, she didn’t really want to abandon her duty, too many innocent peeps would suffer, so objectively it wouldn’t be worth it in the end... right?

She let out a deep, sullen sigh. “Oh Billy... why did I drive you into leaving?” She just needed someone to help with her problems. Not all of them, just some of them, so she didn’t feel like she had a mountain of burdens on her shoulders.

She loved helping people, solving their problems, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, wiping away all of their tears and telling them it will be all right, like a mother to her children.

She hated hurting others, even people like Ice King, mostly. She hated using violence or underhanded means of getting what she wanted done, even if it was always for the greater good. She liked it when people saw things her way and everything just worked in harmony, like bees in a hive all working together.

But she didn’t feel much of anything these days, only tired, sad and angry all hidden behind a mask of smiles and laughs, few of which were truly sincere. It was just all oh so overwhelming and she couldn’t take it anymore.

She didn’t feel much like a Princess anymore, like in those old movies, she felt like she was living inside of a prison at times, not being to live a life that she didn’t feel was worth having anymore.

She needed a Hero, now more than ever and she did not know how much longer she could keep going without one.

“Dadadaaa! Dadadaaa! Daaa-Di-dididaaa!” Hummed a familiar lunatic. “PRINCESS!!!” Yelled the Ice King. “WHERE YA AT GURL!?”

Princess Bubblegum jolted up with renewed strength. She didn’t see him yet, which meant he probably didn’t see her either. She without thinking crawled with fervor to the bushes to hide, crawling further into the forest to slip away.

The Ice King floated on his flapping beard slowly over the river, searching for Bubblegum. “I KNOCKED YOUR GAL PAL OUT! SHE WAS ALL UP IN MY GRILL BOUT ME MARRYING YOU AND NOT HER! BUT WE TALKED IT OUT AND ITS CHILL NOW! MOSTLY BECAUSE I KNOCKED HER OUT, LIKE I SAAAIIID! Well, actually she sorta knocked herself out I think, not sure what that whole biz is about...”

He then stopped and scanned the area where she previously was. He was Red and White now, as if he were Santa Claus, Lady Rainicorns powers shifting his colors around during the fight, something he didn’t care too much about it, mainly because he didn’t notice.

“Where did you run off to? Galpals don’t abandon each other, even when they’re not at their best, right Gunter!?” He said to nobody being there. “Gunter?” He asked again looking around and found his companions wasn’t anywhere. “Now where did ma Guntsy flap off too? ...Oh right I didn’t bring him! I think... or did I forget him? I hope not! He’s an evil lil agent of chaos, he might burn this place down if ya let him!”

Then he spotted it. “OOO! Free Crown!!!” He floated down and picked up the piece of royal jewelry, regaining altitude up into the canopy of the forest. “Sweet! Free loot!” He examined his new treasure and noticed it was familiar.

“Wait a zippin sec, this is Bubblegum Tiara! She must have dropped it!” He then gasped. “SHE MUST HAVE BEEN THROUGH HERE! WHICH MEANS SHES CLOSE!!!”

Then he got a devlish grin on his bearded face. “Unless... this is something she WANTED ME TO HAVE!!! YES! HAHAHA! YES!!! THAT MUST BE-...n-no, that’s silly. It’s better to ask if that’s the case. Mama didn’t raise no Ice Thief! I’m multi-classed in Ninja/Wizard! Mostly Wizard!”

He the cleared his throat and said “Hey! Princess Bubblegum! Did you leave this crown’a’yours for me to have as a present?!”

“Course ah di-yud leave it fo yous ya saxay peace a mayun!!!” He said attempting to imitate... something approximately female and perhaps Southern.

“Oh-ho! Why thank you! I do got that Silver Fox thang goin on, don’t I?” He said to himself.

“Ya sure do, sugarplum!” Said his girlish(?) voice. “How bout you put on that tiara and make yoself into a sexy lady! You can be Vixen Princess!”

“Hmmm, Ice Vixen Princess... that sounds good! I might write somethin about th-”

“QUIT STALLIN AN PUT ON THE CROWN YA DONK! I WANT MAH SEXY SNOW SHOW RIGHT NOW!”

“Okay okay! Sheesh, keep ya panties on! Not like I am goin nowhere fast!” He said.

He reached up and grabbed the crown upon his and sudden fell from the air. “WHOOOOAAAAAA-” Crashing into the shallows face first, screaming the whole.

“... Ice King dooown.” He said in pain to his noggin.

“PFFFFT-HAHAHAAHAAAAA!” Laughed a voice in the trees.

Adventure Time Presents: The Good, The Fair & The Beautiful. - Chapter 6 - Zalloj - Adventure Time (Cartoon 2010) [Archive of Our Own]

#princess bubblegum #ice king #adventure time #marceline

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prettytm · 7 months

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o5﹕ sender comforts receiver in the aftermath of a nightmare

Nonverbal prompts : Accepting : @lt-ghxst

Nightmares. Night terrors. After returning home from active duty, after that very first nightmare sent him rushing for a weapon, he had went to see someone at the VA and was told the two weren't the same. He called bullshit, never went back. Sure, he might not have waken up unable to move with a demon hovering over him but he did wake with the memory of a fallen solider coming to collect his soul. Always in a blind panic, ready to put a bullet through a ghost.

Years passed and he still suffered through those nighttime visions. War and sin wrapping a mind at rest with the acts he had committed in the name of freedom and country. He knows he's a bad man. He didn't need his subconscious to send out random reminders. Sharing a bed with someone wasn't normal for him. So when his relationship with Ghost had taken a more serious turn.. He had warned him. As if it needed to be said. PTSD and soldiers were an old, bitterly married couple. Anyone else would have been in too much danger so finally he invites someone into his bed. He knew Simon could dodge a blade in time or disarm him if he reached his gun too quickly.

He's grateful that for whatever reason.. His lover seemed to chase the nightmares away with a gruff tone and warmth. So neither one of them had had to worry about the aftermath of such things. All good things must come to an end though and.. Billy should have known Simon wouldn't raise a hand to stop him when he snapped awake to find himself staring down at a too bright white skull. A knife pressed against a bare throat. Crimson staining blade and skin. There's a gloveless hand around his wrist and another cupping his jaw. Russo. His own surname shakes the halt of the knife from his hand and he stares with those space black eyes down into a deep amber glow. He should be pissed. There's no way he had been surprised and let Billy not only pull a knife on him but get close enough to straddle him.. He's too worried about how badly he might have hurt him that anger just didn't fit inside him. "Canterville. What the.. " He might not be angry but he could certainly try to scold him. Except.. He's being drawn down to him, pulled in close to listen to a deep voice sooth and comfort as he nuzzles a fabric covered nose and jaw along his own face. The next few minutes are spent like that until his heart isn't beating out of his chest and he's kissing the mouth beneath the mask. "..Asshole."

#::: { asks } so does this mean ann margret's not coming?#lt-ghxst #lt ghxst #::: { VERSE } We All Wear Masks #::: { lt-ghxst } Possessed And Protected; It's The Only Way We Know How To Love

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rozzy02 · 7 months

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Begiinigns part three

Word count: 1614

A/N: the weird cave time, I'll have the fourth and final part up sometime in a few days or so.

“It’s supposed to be just up here” Dylan said. It was starting to get colder and Jennie was glad to be in jeans as Vera looked like she was shivering a bit. The sun had nearly set and the cicadas were as loud as always. Lo and behold there was a small cave entrance blocked off by police tape, Jennie’s curiosity was sufficiently peaked.

“We should try to just go under it” She said approaching the cave entrance, “it’d be better if no one ever knew we were here.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll keep watch and shout if it looks like anyone is coming this way” Dylan said, having gone completely pale in the face.

“What’s wrong, ya scared?” Vera said, sneaking up behind him, scaring the shit out of him.

“N-no, just don't like it here, besides a guy alone with four pretty girls, who knows what could happen?” He said, being immediately met with loud gagging from all the girls. Jennie felt like she could really throw up.

“Let’s quit stalling and see what the hype is about, worst case we find a stoner den or something” Billie said making her way through the police tape into the cave. Vera followed immediately after and Klove behind her.

“Be careful, okay?” Dylan said as Jennie went inside.

It was cold and dark in the mouth of the cave. It was also quite wet, for lack of a better term. Billie was goofing off and jumping from rock to rock, Vera following behind. Klove hung back with Jennie, looking uneasy about how far the tunnel seemed to stretch.

“We don’t have a flashlight, how are we supposed to see?” Klove hesitantly asked.

“I’ve got a lighter” Billie pulled hers out, flicking it on. It was branded from a convenience store, she’d probably stolen it. Jennie giggled at them a little as she pulled out her phone and turned on its much more efficient flashlight. Vera laughed too, seeming to have also had the thought.

“That would make more sense,” Billie said, putting her lighter away, blushing. They walked for a few minutes before Billie’s hopping around, in fact, ended badly. She slipped on a wet rock and landed hard on her knee, making a horrible crunching noise.

“Fuck me that hurt” She said trying to get up. Klove went over to lend her a strong arm up.

“We should probably go back that sounded bad” Jennie said, noticing blood on the rock.

“I’m fiiine, go on without me, I’m desperate to know what’s at the end of this” Billie said flashing her signature smile, trying to put on the brave mask Jennie always saw through.

“You sure, Bills?” Jennie asked, her curiosity also finally peaked with this strange place. Billie nodded in the affirmative and found a larger boulder to sit on.

“I’ll rest a bit then head back out to Dylan” She reassured.

So, they continued on, leaving Billie in the cold and wet corridor. They walked for much further this time before they saw light in the distance. Vera took the front this time, hurrying ahead. Before long she was nearly out of sight and had entered a small cavern.

“Woah, guys check this out!” Vera’s disembodied voice said. Klove and Jennie continued at their pace, when they entered the small cavern, they were met with beautiful runes lining the cave walls. The appeared to be alit by flame, but when Vera curiously ran her hand over one, she was not burnt. The room was covered with them and Vera was mesmerized.

“I’m going to get photos of all of these, you guys keep going on, I should be done by the time you get back.” Vera said, almost seeming hypnotized by the glowing script. Jennie staggered behind Klove hesitant at leaving another friend behind, as soon as Vera spoke, Klove moved to continue deeper in the cave. Jennie followed her, a bit perplexed at her sense of urgency.

“Klove, what’s the rush?” Jennie said, following close behind.

“I think I hear an opening deeper in, I’m hoping it’ll get us out of here faster” She said carefully moving deeper and deeper down into the cave. Jennie knew there was no way this led outside, the geography wouldn’t make sense. But Klove would turn around if Jennie told her that, and Jennie really didn’t want to go the rest of the way on her own. They continued on for a little while longer when the cramped corridor began to open up, they approached a massive forest within the cave.

“What the-” Klove began. From their vantage point a bit higher on the path they could see nearly everything, their were more runes but they were wooden and almost seemed to be grown into the trees. There was a cliff above them, and Jennie had the overwhelming urge to climb to its peak, she would just need to cross this underground forest. There even appeared to be natural light coming from the roof of the massive cavern. Jennie began down the path, focused on getting to that cliff.

“Jen, slow down!” Klove yelled. But Jennie could not and would not slow down. She beckoned Klove to catch up but made no attempt to accommodate her friend's speed. Jennie did not know why but she needed to get to that peak, needed to get to whatever was up there. Behind her Jennie heard Klove yell and fall to the floor of the forest. This broke Jennie temporarily from her trance, she turned around to see Klove on the ground in pain with a scraped knee. She appeared to be fine, but her eyes bored into Jennie.

“Jennie we need to go” She yelled as she got up, but Jennie turned to continue on, not responding.

“I’m turning around! I’m going home, this place gives me the hibbie jeebies, you should come with me!” Klove yelled as she walked away. Jennie was on her own, she watched Klove disappear in the brush. Jennie continued on, she had too. She felt like if she didn’t she would die. She began to climb the steep path up to the mountain, she wished there were a handrail. As she reached the top she was breathing heavily, or should have been at least. Jennie saw beautiful willow trees and lavender lining a stone path leading to a pedestal with a glass ball atop a purple velvet pillow. Jennie could hear the loud breeze over the forest, her fear of heights was both tamed and worsened by the absurdly high cliff.

“Let me out, please” a voice in Jennie’s head begged. It had an Irish accent and felt distinctly feminine and almost smokey. The 15-year-old cautioned forwarded and dared a glance into the orb. It was a mistake, Jennie immediately became further hypnotized, she saw scores of men fighting, kings, war, blood, death. It was horrible. Jennie reached out to the orb, wanting to help it not be so… angry? She couldn’t place its emotion. Slowly her hands inched closer and closer and when she finally grasped it, she felt a powerful surge of emotion overwhelm her as she fell back on the ground, shattering the orb.

“Thank you” Jennie heard the same voice again, but louder she heard an earthquake. They shouldn’t happen in Virginia, and the timing couldn’t be a coincidence. Jennie snapped back to reality, running down the side of the cliff nearly falling as she began to slide down the steep slope. The cave was caving in behind her. She bolted as fast as she could through the forest, she caught up to Klove who had nearly made it back to Vera. Jennie said nothing as she grabbed Klove’s hand and dragged her up the corridor. They made it back to the opening with the runes, and Jennie briefly noticed they began to weep, what almost looked like blood. Jennie grabbed Vera too and kept running like her life depended on it. Jennie was fast, for her height, she did track and was a trained sprinter, so out running the cave in was second nature to her. They made it back to the room where Billie was and bolted outside, the final bit of rubble just missing Klove’s leg.

“Oh my god, are you three okay???” Billie yelled from her position on a lonely stump.

“Y-yeah think so, Where’d Dylan go?” Jennie asked, trying to catch her breath.

“You morons were in there hours, he had to get home, I promised him I’d wait, but my knee fucking hurts” Billie flinched as her hand grazed it.

“Jesus fuck, we should get you to a doctor” Vera said, seeing how it was bent in an unnatural way. Jennie couldn’t believe that Dylan would leave Billie like this, she made a mental note to chew him a new one when she saw him next.

“Here let me carry you” Klove said, going over and picking up Billie who stifled a scream at the movement. The four wordlessly made their way to Jennie’s apartment on the other side of town. Hopefully Jennie’s brother, Stephan, would be home and he could take Billie to the hospital. He was the least likely to tell Billie’s parents what she had been up to that night. Billie’s dad was a mean drunk, her mom a meaner one. They only gave Billie and her twin any attention when they either wanted something or needed a punching bag to let off steam too. Jennie saw how tough Billie tried to be, so no one ever knew how scared she was. They made it back and Jennie noticed her brother’s car and not her mom’s. She grew hopeful.

#origional work #stories from the bunker #vera ferguson #billie brown #klove Tannerson #jennie blake

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