monamourbladie-mb

Latest Posts by monamourbladie-mb

₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. sam's masterlist post !!

peter mowing your lawn

peter mowing your lawn part 2

nsfw headcanons part 1

nsfw headcanons part 2

sfw peter headcanons

pillow talk with peter

enemies to lovers with peter

peter sneaking sex songs into another playlist

aftercare with peter

nascar racer peter

peter x nurse!reader

riding peter

domestic peter

corruption kink with peter

more corruption kink with peter

husband!peter

onlyfans!peter

age gap + jealous!peter

age gap with peter

more age gap with peter

more age gap with peter part 2

breeding kink with peter

flirting with neighbour peter

oral fixation + peter's dog tags

more oral fixation with peter

peter + sleeve tattoos

hatefucking with peter

more hatefucking with peter

hatefucking + age gap

dad's best friend!peter

peter fucking you outside a dive bar

peter's in a cover band

kids soccer coach!peter

tw drug use peter snorting cocaine off you

rockstar!peter x groupie!reader

pr relationship with rockstar!peter

rockstar!peter + brooklyn baby

making a sextape with rockstar!peter

rockstar!peter + pregnant groupie

being needy for rockstar!peter

neighbour!peter meeting your parents after fucking you

rockstar!peter + daddy

falling for rockstar!peter after starring in a mv with him

peter getting a tattoo of your name on his chest

protective rockstar!peter

being inexperienced with owen

© star-quill. do not copy, repost or translate

BEWARE OF PHAGOCYTIC RAIN — AL-HAITHAM.

kinktober day three — aphrodisiacs ; find masterlist here

synopsis. the akademiya textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea, and mild sexual arousal. except the textbook lied. it’s not mild. al-haitham and you might need to pause your desert trip for a moment

length. 4.3k words (omg this is the shortest one so far)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs + dub con, mentions of injuries and blood (al-haitham gets stung by a consecrated scorpion), reader sits on his lap, hand jobs, unprotected sex, no prep, riding, creampie, implied (future) multiple orgasms, reader is mentioned to have a dendro vision + is a haravatat scholar

notes. i made this up. the new consecrated scorpions lore is that their venom can be a sex stimulant thanks

“haitham,” you complain—although, you probably really shouldn’t. in fact, you definitely should not complain. al-haitham has so graciously allowed you to accompany this trip to the desert, and you should not get in the way. still, your feet ache, and the sun is blaring, and god—would kill you both to have a break? “can’t we just stop for a bit?”

but with you, al-haitham is always patient. you can see him diligently take the time to be patient as he stills and sighs quietly, not letting himself ever get frustrated with you. “it’ll get cold if night falls,” he reasons, “c’mon, you’ll definitely want to rest inside the ruins instead of outside tonight.”

“but baby,” you protest, “my feet hurt.”

“i know,” he nods, like validating your feelings will make them any better, “but the safest option would be to camp inside the ruins instead of out here—”

“hey, haitham?” you cut him off, suddenly whispering quietly as you huddle closer, “what…what’s that?” he looks over his shoulder to where you point—and then he stiffens.

“oh, great,” he hisses, groaning under his breath, “seriously? now?”

what looks like a giant scorpion seems to be pacing in the distance, the large, sharp stinger on its tail clear as day, even from where you stand, a good range away. you’ve never seen one of these before, never even heard of giant scorpions that roam the desert. al-haitham has certainly never told you about seeing them, with all the times he visits the desert himself. he seems rather familiar with them, too, staring exasperatedly off at the beast as it circles the territory you absolutely have to pass.  

“why is there a giant scorpion here? are there always these things in the desert? i’ve never heard of—wait,” you pause, “i have a textbook from the akademiya on desert exploration. i brought it just in case!”

“we don’t need that,” he insists, “i’ve dealt with these plenty of times. just leave it to me.”

you’ve never been to the desert—but al-haitham always mentions the ancient letters he sees in the ruins he explores. it’s tempting; being a scholar is always the never-ending temptation of knowledge—and you are both haravatat scholars, after all. studying an ancient alphabet is enough to make you plead with al-haitham to take you with him on his next trip.

he can’t say no to you, of course—he never can. but it’s your first time here, and evidently…it’s not going exactly as planned. 

you open the book, skimming through the pages before your eyes land on a sketch that looks strikingly similar to the same beast you see in the distance. the textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. that seems like complete and utter bullshit—this seems rather deadly. 

“haitham,” you whisper, “i think we should leave. this doesn’t seem—”

“we can take it,” he argues, “i’ve taken them before on my own quite a lot in the past.”

“but baby, this one seems a bit big—”

“it’ll be fine,” he assures. 

you sigh, looking back at the book and scanning over the section that goes into detail about its attack patterns. “okay, fine—let me just read over how they attack so i know what to expect.”

phagocytic form—beasts enter phagocytic form immediately when in combat, resulting in an increase in resistance to all elements. there is double the resistance to electro attacks. well, you think, it’s a good thing cyno isn’t the one fighting today—otherwise, you think you might be screwed. 

this is fine. everything is fine. you and al-haitham both have dendro visions; this shouldn’t be too bad, right?

melee combo one—beasts perform a two-part combo with their claws. alright, not too bad. you can easily dodge that, you reason. melee combo two—beasts perform a three-part combo consisting of a single strike with both claws, a flurry of claw strikes while rushing forward, and a projectile fired from its stinger. now that seems a bit troublesome, but you’ve dealt with worse. 

“i’ll take care of it,” al-haitham calls over his shoulder, catching your attention as he draws out his sword. you look up from the pages frantically. 

“wait, i really think we should handle this together if we’re going to take this. just let me read on the attack patterns a bit more—”

he’s already made the first attack. you can hear the angry hiss of the scorpion, can practically see the fury in its beady eyes from behind the thick skull covering its head. al-haitham, to your slight comfort, dodges melee combos one and two expertly. 

maybe he was right—maybe you’ve been panicking for nothing.

you look back at the book. dig—beasts dig into the ground and attack the target from below, staying within the range of a visible electro ring. alright, as long as you leave the ring before the scorpion pops out of the ground, you should be fine. nothing to worry about. spikes—beasts plug their tails into the ground and rapidly produce spikes around themselves to shock targets. another easy dodge—you just have to make sure you escape the vicinity.

you look up, and al-haitham has already easily leapt from the ring and landed himself on higher ground. he waits, watches as the beast emerges from underground, and plants its tail into the ground—this must be the spikes. al-haitham is rather excellent at fighting these things—you have to admit. as soon as the spikes are gone, he takes his chance to plunge down, perfectly landing a hard hit to its head with the edge of his sword, making its body slump to the ground.

he might just finish this alone like he said. 

“there,” he nods, flashing you a smooth grin, “i told you i’d handle it. now then, let’s—”

the loud, sinister hiss from behind cuts him off—it makes you watch in abject horror as the scorpion rises and does a rapid spin. 

you look over the pages as quickly as you can—is there more? there’s nothing else on the page, is there? you quickly flick your eyes to the next page and—oh. 

oh no.

phagocytic rain—beasts rapidly spin and scatter many stingers into the air before slamming their claws and unleashing stingers down from above. these stingers, once pierced into the skin, can cause side effects as a result of consecrated venom.

“well, it’s never done that before,” al-haitham holds up his sword, getting ready to fight. 

no. he has to get away—he needs to get away. the words don’t come quick enough from your throat as you scream, “haitham, no! you have to get away—”

it’s too late. you can hear him let out a strangled groan of pain, clutching his arm as his sword instantly falls to the floor, a gash already decorating his skin from a stinger he didn’t manage to dodge. before you can even think, you grab your weapon and run, leaping between al-haitham and the scorpion and landing another perfect blow to its head—just before that giant, deadly-looking stinger on its tail can plunge into him.

it goes limp, falling to the floor with a thud, the glow of its body dimming instantly.

“fuck,” he curses—al-haitham rarely curses. this is not a light sting. “since when do they do that?”

“since forever,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of his cape to press on his wound and stop the blood flow, “maybe if you’d just listened to me and read the attack patterns with me, you’d have known that.”

“i’ve fought these plenty of times,” he says indignantly, teeth still grit in pain, “they never do that.”

“maybe if you weren’t such a know it all,” you grumble—but then you gently reach over, cupping his cheek as you trace a thumb over the skin comfortingly, “is it too bad?” you ask, concern evident enough in your tone that he feels slightly bad. 

al-haitham shakes his head, sighing quietly as you kiss his jaw. “i’ll be fine. i’ll just patch it up before we camp for the night.”

“are you sure? maybe we should—”

“it’ll be fine,” he hums, “their venom isn’t deadly anyway.”

—————

you and al-haitham manage to make it to the ruins by nightfall. somehow, miraculously, the two of you are able to trek towards the pyramid and seek shelter indoors for the night, right before it gets too dark and too cold.

al-haitham seems to act stranger and stranger as time goes on, quietly sitting in a corner against the wall and patching his arm up himself as you set up the fire by the tent. you look over at him and watch as he shudders and groans lightly. 

“are you sure you’re alright?” you ask in concern, walking over and sitting as you curl up next to him, raising a brow as his body seems to stiffen at your touch, “baby, you seem…”

“i’m fine,” he says curtly. 

you don’t seem to be convinced, furrowing your brows before pressing a palm to his forehead—hot. incredibly and unnaturally hot skin that’s flushed a shade of crimson you hardly see on al-haitham, even when you tease him in that cheeky, flirty little way of yours that dusts blush over his face every time. 

“haitham,” you gasp, hand brushing back his bangs to feel more of his skin—it’s only then, do you realize just how sweaty his skin seems to be, too. “you’re burning up!”

“i’m okay—”

“maybe you should take your shirt off,” you say quickly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as you sit up straight, “it’s just the two of us here, anyway. it’ll be fine—”

“no,” he grits, voice strangled, “i’m—hah” he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, “—i’m okay. just leave me alone, please. i’ll just go walk it off in a bit.”

he’s panting. you can hear the way his voice is strained and the way his chest rises and falls rather rapidly. you should check the book again, just to see if there’s anything about the side effects in the event you do happen to get stung. 

“hmm, the textbook says—”

“do not read the textbook,” he practically begs. 

you do anyway. “possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea,” you start, glancing up at him and eyeing his patched arm, “well, there was some swelling. are you nauseous?”

“no,” he almost wheezes out. 

“let’s see, and it also says it can cause—oh.” 

possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea—you pause and swallow thickly as you read over the final part—and mild sexual arousal. sexual arousal. well, that would explain the heated and flushed skin, you suppose. and the sweat. you glance up at al-haitham—he does anything but meet your eyes. 

“i told you,” he says stiffly, muffling a groan as he crosses his arms and hunches forward, “i’ll be fine—”

“baby,” you hum, chuckling slightly as you run a hand through his hair—he gulps, still avoiding your gaze, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“don’t,” he warns, jaw clenching as he looks up and stares at you with that same look of hunger you’ve seen so many times before. it’s clear al-haitham is trying to fight off whatever he’s feeling—but the reality is clear. 

he’s very quickly losing himself to his desires. 

“but it’s just us in here,” you insist, hand trailing down his chest slowly before settling on his thigh. his breath hitches, following your hand with his eyes as it rubs along slowly and moves closer and closer inwards. “these ruins have been abandoned for who knows how long—and we’re the only ones from the akademiya cleared to explore them.”

“don’t,” he says again—there’s a warning tone to his voice this time, slightly more raspy and entirely more breathless, “if…if i start, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.”

“oh, but haitham,” you pout, slinging a leg over his waist and seating yourself on his lap. you stare down at his crotch—wet. there’s a very noticeable wet patch over the bulge in his pants. you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. “who says i’d want you to stop?”

“love, i’m serious,” he closes his eyes and swallows, panting as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, “you should sleep. i’ll be okay—o-oh, fuck,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, hissing as you reach past his waistband and free his strained cock from the confinements. 

it’s thick, his erection—probably far more swollen than you’ve ever seen it before. it almost looks painful, with how red it is at the tip, with how it twitches from nothing else but the cool air hitting the heated skin. you think it might just be aching, in fact, from how he whimpers as you wrap a hand around it, just barely squeezing, just barely applying pressure to really relieve anything.

“hmm,” you look down, inspecting, “seems sensitive.” you give it a slow, experimental stroke, instantly making him groan loudly as his head falls back, a stream of pre cum leaking from the tip enough to coat his already slick cock. 

“fuck, fuck—more,” he rasps, hand grabbing your thigh and squeezing hard to ground himself.

“okay,” you murmur, nodding to yourself, “very sensitive. guess we’ll just have to get this out of your system.”

you drag your hand over his length, slow at first, before building up a quick, steady rhythm—just the way he’s always liked it. you lean in, kissing along his jaw as he writhes under you while you squeeze around the base of his cock, rolling your palm over his tip before repeating the motion over and over and over again. 

his mouth is parted, low groans and the occasional soft whine fall past his lips, making the ache between your own legs worsen as you watch him fall apart. there’s a dull throb in your core, and you can feel the fabric of your underwear dampen, but all you’re worried about for now is the man before you. any other time, you’d think it’s a bit shameless, doing something so dirty, so filthy, so inappropriate in the middle of the desert like this–especially while on a research expedition, no less. but you couldn’t just leave your boyfriend to suffer like this, could you? what kind of girlfriend would you be then? and you’re not so cruel as to leave al-haitham to suffer like this all night, or longer, even—who knows how long before the side effects wear off? it’s the wisest choice to just help him, to take care of him like he always takes care of you.

that’s right, you think to yourself—you’re helping him like any doting lover would. you’re not at all interested by this predicament of his…or aroused, for that matter. no, you’re simply worried for him, and it’s up to you to relieve him of the painfully frustrating tension he must be suffering through after he so graciously fought to protect you from the dangers of the desert.

“jus’ like that,” he gasps as you touch him, chest still rising and falling as quickly as before—his shirt is damp too, a noticeable wet patch forming over most of it as the sweat collects on the fabric, “d-don’t stop—fuck, feels so good.”

“c’mon, haitham,” you murmur, taking your other hand to tug at the end of his shirt, “take this off—i told you, you’ll feel better.”

he listens—whatever is in that venom must be something strong because al-haitham is the most stubborn individual you’ve ever met. under normal circumstances, he’d refuse to take his shirt off even if, deep down, he knew himself it’d help. but right now, he quickly reaches at the hem before pulling it off, tossing it to the side as his bare chest is exposed for you to admire. his usual pale skin is flushed, a soft pink that glistens from the sweat that he can’t seem to get rid of, even as you work his swollen cock with your fist. 

it’s pretty, the way he sounds, the way he looks. you run a thumb over his slit, and he whimpers. not too often of times have you heard al-haitham whimper—but today, he seems to have lost any and all control, too busy thrusting his hips up to meet your strokes as he moans lowly. 

“when’d you start to feel it?” you ask curiously, pecking his forehead as you leave scattered kisses along his face, “how long have you been trying to play it off?”

“s-since…” he starts, but he trails off as your thumb traces over a thick being along the underside of his length, letting out a soft whine at the feeling before bucking his hip into your hand more desperately. you don’t think you’ve ever seen al-haitham so worked up—so needy and riled up and painfully fucked out before he’s even cum yet. “since i f-first got stung,” he admits through labored breaths, “just got worse slowly.”

“you should’ve told me,” you coo, “not like i don’t see you like this anyway. poor thing,” you pout softly, eyeing the way his cock twitches in your hand, more beads of pre cum oozing from the tip and leaving a stream down his length, “looks like it hurts.”

“it does,” he rasps, “feels…feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“don’t worry,” you hum, squeezing tighter around him, working him quicker as your hand jerks his aching cock off with a tight fist, “i’ll help you cum. ‘s what you deserve for fighting that thing for me. my strong baby.”

“c-close,” he says through a cracked voice, like the praise is enough to send him hurtling over the edge, “‘m so close—sh-shit.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly, pecking his forehead, “then cum, baby. think you’ll feel much better.”

you roll a thumb over his nipple, hard under the pad of your thumb, and enough to make him gasp loudly before he lets out a deep grunt, cum spilling from his sensitive tip. it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him—thick, endless ropes of hot, sticky cum coating your hand and his abs as you pump his cock through his orgasm. you’re glad you made him take his shirt off—this would’ve been an even more unpleasant trip if he’d had to walk around in a soiled shirt.

“fuck, f-fuck—so g-good,” he stutters, his head thrown back against the wall that supports his body, legs spreading apart to give you better access to working his cock through his high. one hand reaches to play with his balls as you milk his cock, squeezing as you stroke upwards and watch every thick drop of cum shoot past his tip. 

it feels like forever, his orgasm. it’s long, and his voice is strained from calling your name over and over by the time he’s finished—but he’s still just as hard as before. no—in fact, you think he might be even harder. 

“well…” you start, staring at his erection as it rests against his sculpted abs, “i don’t think that did much.”

“no,” he pants, staring at you through lust-hazed eyes, “it didn’t. but i have an idea that might help, though.”

“yeah? what is it, oh wise grand sage?”

al-haitham, for the first time ever, doesn’t correct you that he’s the acting grand sage. instead, he lifts you up slightly and pulls your pants down to pool at your ankles before lining your dripping cunt over his cock. you bite your lip, moving to ever so slightly drag his tip along your clit, making the both of you shiver with a desperate gasp at the ghost friction.

“i think,” he starts, finger circling your clit slowly as you whine before letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, “that perhaps fucking you might be the only way to get this out of my system. what do you say?”

“haitham, please,” you whine, fingers digging into his shoulders as you clutch onto him, “need you.”

“yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, replacing his finger and teasing your folds with the tip of his cock, coating the head with the slick of your pussy as you quiver over him, “need me, huh? i thought i was the one who got stung. shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

you would scoff if you weren’t aching to feel the burning stretch of him intruding your neglected cunt—al-haitham always finds a way to be himself at the end of the day. always so frustratingly confident and painfully good at teasing. 

“fuck me, haitham,” you plead, pushing your hips down until the first few inches of his length push past your entrance, dragging his tip along your folds and pulling a whine from you as he chokes on a low groan.

“f-fuck,” he grunts, “so tight—a-always so tight.”

his hands grasp at your hips, slowly guiding you to sink all the way down on his cock, taking it inch by inch until he’s buried all the way, his tip nudging perfectly against that sensitive spot in the back of your walls. al-haitham feels like he’s been made just for you like that—fitting you perfectly enough that he hits all the right spots without even trying, without even having to angle his hips in order to give you what you need from him.

you feel sweat collect on your own forehead, mirroring the same glistening of his own skin as you bite your lip and whimper out a pathetic, “h-haitham, more—please.”

“it’s a good thing i brought you with me,” he pants as he snaps his hips up, his hands still guiding your hips to bounce on his cock as you pull up before slamming back down, your walls hugging his thick girth tightly while his fat tip presses against your sweet spot. “imagine where i’d be if you weren’t here. j-jus’ wouldn’t feel the same if i was fucking my fist instead of this sweet cunt.”

the stretch is too good—the way he splits you open as he bullies into your pussy, pushing past your folds and dragging his thick veins along your walls, makes your head spin, pleasure burning up your nerves and spreading across your entire body. your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin as he groans and tightens his bruising grip on your hips.

“b-baby—fuck, ‘s so good,” you mewl, “h-haitham—oh.”

“take me so well,” he says breathlessly, face falling slack as your walls flutter around his length and relieve the ache that was all too overwhelming just a few moments ago—being buried into your pussy is enough to turn the tight grit of his jaw into a loose, parted lips as he moans your name. “taking it so well, like the good girl you are. you—ngh, fuck—you want to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“i do,” you nod, sobbing as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the delicate bundle of nerves, “i do, i do—please, haitham. faster, need more.”

“yeah?” he lets out a strangled chuckle, biting his lip and groaning as you snap your hips down particularly rough, squeezing around him tightly, “you need more? i’d almost say you were stung instead of me.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving angry, red marks in their wake as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. you slam down on him with every roll of your hips, his own meeting you halfway as he bucks up, fucking into you—you can feel it, the impending high that you reach closer and closer to, every circle of his thumb on your clit and every brush of his cock against your walls bringing you close to falling off the edge.

“‘m…g-gonna cum, haitham—fuck, a-almost there, baby,” you pant, mewling as you throw your head back while he leans in to kiss your neck, biting hard enough that you almost wonder if there’s blood.

“me too,” he groans, “you…you’re so perfect,” you feel his head bury into your shoulder, his forehead digging into your shoulder as you cradle the back of his head with a hand and whine, “i’m bringing you to every trip—fuck you in every ruin i explore. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“yes, yes—please,” you babble, nodding as your back arches before you feel the coil snap—you gasp his name, a repeat of haitham, haitham, haitham, falling from your lips as he fucks into you through your high. the spasm of your walls around him sends him hurtling into his second orgasm—even more earth-shattering than the first.

“that’s it,” he moans, his voice deep and raspy as it cracks in the middle, “can’t even be mad i got stung—not when you let me fuck you l-like this. so…feels so good—’m c-cumming.”

it’s not the first time al-haitham has cum in you—but it’s never felt like this before. it’s hot, his cum—it spills into you and coats your walls in a sticky mess that forms a ring at the base of his cock as it pumps into you. the mess of his release and your arousal coats both of your thighs, leaking from your abused cunt and smearing along your skin. you can feel him twitch with every rope, can feel the way he throbs as he spills into you and paints your walls white with his release. it’s desperate—needy and so, so filthy, just like the sounds he makes into your ear, breathless pants that make your stomach do flips as you listen to him fall apart and break. 

he slumps as he finishes, your body falling against him as you both pant harshly and catch your breaths. he kisses your neck delicately as you stroke his hair, admiring his spent form under you.

“as much as i hate that you got stung,” you mumble, “this…this might not have been the worst thing.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, looking up and raising a brow—it’s only then that you feel it, the twitch of his still hard cock, still buried deep in your abused cunt, “are you sure? because we aren’t nearly finished yet—i really hope you’re prepared to take it.”

the textbook may have lied, you think—this is not mild at all. this might delay your trip quite a bit.

i would go with him hoping he gets stung every time so i could suck the soul out of him tbh

the blade girlie to argenti girlie pipeline is real

He kinda replace my Blade obsession… srry blade

It's 2:30am but i wanna write smth so have this disaster. I've saved up 105 pulls so far for this man so i might as well give him some love here😭😭

TW/CW: NSFW content, written at 2:30 so quality go brr, mild degradation?, mirror sex, choking if you squint, overstim, afab!reader, nickname doll used, dom/sub dynamics (dom wrio x sub reader), Dw safeword is established (always have a safeword kiddies, kinky sex or not it's good to have.),

Your moans were muffled by the sheets, the wet sounds of skin against skin echoing in your ears. Reaching a hand around your front, Wriothesley dragged you up by your neck. With your back to his chest, he smirked at you through the mirror at the foot of his bed.

"aww doll... Look at you, already all stupid for me?"

You held eye contact with him, whimpering and moaning all pretty. Each firm thrust into your core only added to the haze clouding your thoughts, truly you couldn't even really understand what he was saying.

His free hand wrapped around your front, his fingers dutifully finding your clit as he purred in your ear, "Come on, doll... Let me see you cum all pretty around my cock..."

Your core was trembling around him, oh so close to that orgasm he seemed determined to drag from you. With one particularly well aimed thrust, you were coming undone with sobs and moans.

"Shh, shh doll... I've got you," His voice murmured softly, still working you through that high despite your tears. His fingers were merciless on your clit, still rubbing sticky circles.

His hips didn't let up, either, and when you began to plead, "w-wrio! Wrio s'too much!" He only chuckled lowly.

"Your done when i say so, doll. You can give me one more, right? Look so pretty creaming on my dick."

You shake your head, body still shaking and sensitive in his grasp. His hand on your neck reaches to grasp your jaw, turning your gaze towards where you were connected. True to his words, a white ring was formed around his base. Your lips were parted and eyes were puffy from the tears you'd been shedding, and your mussed up hair only added to the effect.

You whine lowly, looking towards his gaze through the mirror. Choking down overstimulated sobs, you pant out, "w-wrio!"

He cocks his head, hips never stopping. Leaning over your back, he kisses your nape. The tender motion is followed by a bite as he growls lowly,

"I said, you're done when i say so."

Tag list! Dm or send an ask if you wanna be added:>

@pixieskie @perfectlyrainycherryblossom @ephemeralapotheosis

Drunk On You || Peter Quill x Reader

A/N: So this is just a random, short oneshot. I really cannot explain myself. 

Warnings: Smut, Overstimulation

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Keep reading

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any video he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

Rise and Shine

[Gonna try my hand at formatting non-ask fics in a prettier manner. Let me know what y'all think!]

NSFW! Cole CassidyxF!Reader

To you, there were two inevitable rules when you slept wrapped up in Cole's arms. One, you would have the warmest, most tranquil sleep of your life while spooned against his body, his arm tucking you to his side like this was the only place you belonged. And two, your bladder would inevitably chase this moment away, demanding to be emptied the moment you begin to drift back into consciousness.

You had tried to reject the growing urgency but the waning darkness began to coax you from your dreams, consciousness creeping in bit by bit. Cole and you had shifted during the night, the man’s right arm still tucked around your body but not firmly locked around your hips as it had been the night before. You were still pressed snuggly against his side, the entirety of your body pressed into his; your right leg resting comfortably on top of his thigh, your hand curled against his hairy chest. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you finally managed to open your eyes, thankful that it was still fairly dark in the room. Being at the far corner of the base did have its advantages, especially when you needed another half hour to face the sun. 

Screwing your eyes up in another hard couple of blinks, the bleariness of sleep gave way to an eyeful of Cole’s chest, your own fist closing and squeezing a few times before you stole a glance up. Your smile grew into a full grin as you caught sight of Cole’s sleeping visage, warmth blooming through out you as you studied the man for a moment. In the growing light, you could see the smattering of freckles that covered his skin from head to toe from years of exposure to the New Mexico sunlight. His hair was damn near chocolate color in the dimness of the room, but flecks of auburn and cinnamon were peeking through bit by bit as the sun continued to rise.

You resisted the urge to snort as the man gave one quick snort in his sleep, biting hard on your bottom lip when he smacked his lips before his breathing evened out into quiet snores once more. The man had his left arm thrown over his face, but to you that did nothing to conceal his high cheekbones and battle crooked nose. A blush climbed into your face and crept down your chest, absolutely taken by how much you adored him.

Still, your bladder demanded reprieve and you needed to move before it became too late. You gingerly began to lift your leg off his, hand opening to gently smooth across his chest so you could fully untangle yourself from him without interrupting the man’s sleep. Once your legs were free from the man, you were able to scoot towards the bottom edge of the bed, carefully moving inch by inch so you didn’t jostle the man. As soon as your feet began to dangle over the edge of the bed, you pushed yourself the rest of the way off of the bed, tugging your long sleep shirt back down and rushing to the small, connected bathroom.

Gibraltar’s bathrooms were fairly simplistic, if not industrial; an open concept shower with shelves on the outside stacked with towels, toiletries and aloe vera plants. A small wall separated the shower and the toilet, the toilet neatly tucked in the corner and away from the entrance to the room. You didn’t waste time turning the lights on, sunlight beginning to filter past the frosted glass windows of the room and sending beams of sunlight against the mirror over the sink. Rushing towards the toilet you quickly finished your business, squeaking softly as the bidet activated as you finished, sleep quickly chased away as soon as the device cleaned you off. Might as well get started on the day.

Pattering over to the sink you quickly washed your hands, giving yourself a quick once over in the mirror before grabbing your toothbrush. Weary eyes and bedhead greeted your view, somehow managing to avoid the dregs of bedhead despite not pulling your hair up or wrapping it before falling asleep. Making a mental note, you knew you’d have to teasingly thank the cowboy for saving you from a completely bad hair day. Squirting a glob of toothpaste onto the brush, you leaned over the sink, eyes closing as you idly swayed side to side as you brushed your teeth. Your mind sleepily wandered over plans for the day and what to make for breakfast until your thought process was suddenly interrupted by two hands gliding over your hips. You sputtered, toothpaste dribbling down your chin in surprise as your eyes snapped open, greeted by the amused, half-lidded reflection of your boyfriend behind you.

“Jesus Cole”, you murmured, shifting your toothbrush to the side and grabbing a Kleenex from the shelf to wipe your face. “You scared me half to death!”

His hands gently rubbed your hips in small circles apologetically, the man dipping down to press a kiss to the back of your head, nuzzling into your hair as he stifled a yawn.

“’m sorry sugar”, he hummed, the sleep clinging to his voice dragging it down a few octaves. You were sure he felt the shiver that ran down your spine, his hands inching from your waist to your stomach, thumbs rubbing in comforting circles. “Woke up alone…”

He trailed off for a moment as you spit the remnants of toothpaste from your mouth and rinsed before fully leaning backwards into the man, the softness of his touch and torso contrasted by the hardness pressed against your ass. Cole had no problem admitting her was a clingy man, if you were in the room, he wanted to have some part of your touching him. Waking up without you there had probably sent the man into auto-pilot, seeking you out until he could hold you in his arms once more. Heat began to swirl lazily in you at his touch, his calloused fingers working small circles higher and higher, pausing until you rolled your hips back against his needily. A pleased rumble started low in his chest, the quiet growl growing when his fingertips grazed the underside of your breasts. Tilting your head back, your gazes locked, the needy hunger you shared making your entire body tremble.

“Damn”, Cole moaned softly, head canting to the side of yours as he pressed a hard kiss to your temple, your breasts suddenly engulfed in his hands. His thumbs barely grazed your nipples, your entire body jumping at the contact and moaning at his covered length pushing more insistently against your bare ass.  “Y’know I can’t control myself when ya look at me like that, darlin’.”

“Then don’t”, you sighed, falling forward as his fingers rolled your nipples lightly, propping yourself up on the sink.

Groaning, Cole fell with you, nipping at the shell of your ear each time he tweaked your sensitive nubs, thighs squeezing tighter and tighter as each movement sent pure electricity into your clit. The man did not relent as you hips rolled and grinded hard against his boxer-briefs, the sensation of fabric making your overly sensitive pussy cry out for direct stimulation. You could the growing wet spot on Cole’s underwear, unsure if it was only you that could be blamed or if his cock was spilling pre-cum. Both of you were growing erratic, you legs shaking as you tried to press into him to provide some reprieve for your throbbing clit, him grinding into you as if the action would allow him to easily slip through the layers of fabric and inside. He refused to relinquish his hold on your breasts for the moment, husky breathing teasing your ears before pausing for one pregnant moment.

“Fuck!”

Your body jerked before melting, Cole’s teeth nibbling at the crux of your shoulder and neck before sinking in, the t-shirt providing little barrier from the delectably stinging onslaught. The way he pulled one hand away from your breasts to yank the neck of the shirt over, smothering the heated area with kisses made your heart flutter, knees wobbling as you clutched even harder at the sink to stay up. A whimper tumbled from your lips as his right hand dragged down your body and cupped your mound, one of his fingers barely dragging across the slit of your cunt. He inhaled sharply against your skin, his palm massaging your mound.

“Please”, you breathed as he applied more pressure, his fingers slipping up and down, pulling away right before he reached your clit. You whined as your eyes slipped closed and pleading words fell from you like a prayer. Heat and need poured from you like water, the man’s hand pulling back just slightly when you ground your hips down, the teasing making your head grow fuzzy. “Please Cole, pretty please.”

Stars burst behind your eyes for the briefest second as your knees fully buckled, the man firmly rolling two fingers around your overly sensitive clit. Pleasure raced through your body, your hands scrambling for purchase on the sink as you began to fall.

“Woah there”, Cole breathed out, hand quickly pulling away so his arm could wrap tight around your hips, his other arm wrapped right under your breasts. “Wasn’t expectin’ that huh?

Heat exploded in your cheeks as you finally managed to peek your eyes back open, twisting your head away from your reflection as it seared itself into your mind. You had come apart just from one direct touch, lips parted and eyes half-lidded, the ravenous look of Cole’s lust darkened eyes and ruddy cheeks making you want to take another plunge into pleasure.

“N-no”, you murmured petulantly before wiggling slightly, the man’s hold not loosening from around you. Lifting your arm weakly, you pointed towards the door, sticking your bottom lip out in a pleading pout. “Bed now? My legs ain’t gonna work through another round like that.”

You laid on the sugar thickly, a grin spreading on your lips as a husky grunt of affirmation rumbled against your back. It wasn’t needed but you knew the man loved his compliments, praise being a huge ‘secret not so secret’ kink of his. Twisting you around, you squealed as Cole’s hand slipped from around you hips to under your ass and thighs, the man quickly lifting you up using his prosthetic arm before balancing out with his other. His hands slid down to massage at your thighs as they wrapped around his hips, arms holding on tight to him as he sauntered back over to the bedroom.

“Oh baby you are incredible”, you hummed softly as you tilted your head forward, gently pressing your forehead against his, trapping his messy bangs between the both of you. You pressed several hard kisses to his lips, dissolving into half a dozen pecks, your fingers rubbing small circles against the back of his neck. “How am I supposed to think when you’re driving me crazy like this?”

You could feel the heat rise against the back of his neck, a pleased flush making the subtle freckles pop against his sun-kissed skin. His fingers dug into your thighs, enough pressure to let you know your words were boring straight to his core, his head dipping down and capturing your lips in a hard kiss. You melted into his touch, your arms wrapping even tighter about his shoulders as your torso fully leaned into his, nails scratching at the back of his neck and hair. Every ounce of growing need kept your lips locked with his, your teeth grazing at his lips only for him to catch your bottom lip between his, a desperate whine pulled from your chest.

“You stealin’ my words now darlin’”, Cole breathed heavily as he pulled away from you, tongue swiping out to taste your lips as his knee hit the bed. “Careful now.”

Cole was careful as he climbed onto the bed, your arms still locked around him as he dropped both of your legs onto the bed and trapped you between his. Your face burned as you stared up at the man, his gaze dancing over every single inch of your body as you returned the favor. There were times you forgot what a thick man he was; broad, muscular shoulders giving way to full, cup-able pecs and a solid set of abs covered in a soft layer of fat and hair. You had called the man a bear more times than you could count, Cole taking pride in the fact and patting his stomach or his thighs whenever he wanted your attention. Right now, however, his hands were playing with the waistband of his underwear, your breath catching in your chest as your eyes continued to trail downward.

His dick hung thick, hard and ready, the forest of pubic hair disappearing behind the grey and red waistband but you knew what lay just beyond. The fabric had been completely saturated in wetness, his precum beginning to bead through the fabric, his cock twitching under your hungry gaze. Your hand finally moved away from the back of his neck, working slowly down his chest to tweak at a nipple before it continued its journey towards its goal. Three of your fingers hooked into the waistband alongside his, your eyes pulling up from his cock, over his body and locking with his gaze again. Slow, heady breaths fell from his lips as you both paused, waiting to see who would act first. Smiling, you slowly lifted your brows in a teasingly demure manner.

“Please baby?”

Your tone dipped, desire making your tone husky, arching your back to push out your breasts, fingers gliding left and right playfully. Both of you adored taking charge at time but right now you wanted him to devour you alive, to fill you up and ravish you in a way only he knew how. Cole’s nostrils flared as his eyes broke away from your own to drink you in, hands clumsily pushing the underwear away and kicking them away behind him. Your head swam as you spread your legs further for him, eyes lingering on his thick, ruddy cock as he inched closer to you, his hand pumping his length as he fell over you. He swiped his length against your cunt once, then twice, his dick coated in your essence before he nestled himself between you lips, pushing forward agonizingly slow.

“Damn you feel so good”, Cole moaned, his head tilted back as he tried to hold some semblance of control and not slam into you completely.

His hand drifted dazedly from his cock to your hips, the tips of his fingers pressing into the flesh possessively as he sank into you inch by inch. Your breath caught in your throat as your walls hungrily sucked him in, whining low as he bottomed out and held you in place. Cole wanted to savor the feeling of your walls around him, letting out a slow hiss as he pulled back before slowly tilting his hips forward once more. You were so delightfully full of Cole, his cock thick and lightly curved upward, teasing every inch of your cunt while lightly teasing your g-spot with every thrust in. The cowboy’s thrusts were always so deliberate, at least at the beginning, because he wanted to twist you up higher and higher so you both could come tumbling down together.

Your hands twisted into the sheets with the first thrust, clawing and scrambling against the fabric for some type of purchase as he set that spine tingling pace. Tilting your head back, your eyes squeezed up tight as you felt the head of his cock brush against that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over, the man pulling half way out before sliding into you slow and steady. Your mind was growing hazy, getting lost in his touch as you rocked against him desperately, his hands tightening around your hip before releasing them. Trying to catch your breath if even for a moment, you squealed as the man’s hands traveled down your side and moved to under your knees. Your eyes snapped open as you looked at him, the man’s gaze half-lidded, the hungry wanton look in your eyes making your squeeze around the man in anticipation.

“C-Cole fuck!”

Cole had pinned your knees in place, the man’s hips pulling back briefly before snapping forward, his thighs clapping against your ass. You could barely breathe, the man was even deeper than he was before, your wetness punctuating each move he made when he drilled inside of you. A part of you wanted to look away, to squeeze your eyes tight and get lost in the feeling but Cole had pinned you in place, dark eyes glowing with loving desire.

“You look so damn pretty”, Cole sighed, punctuating each word with another snap of his hips, his words pouring over you like honey and setting every inch of your body aflame.

You finally managed to break eye contact, each snapping thrust making your head grow fuzzier and fuzzier, the back of your palms pressed against your eyes and cheeks to chase some coolness, some calm back into your body. You were coming undone in his arms and he knew it, Cole pressing even closer to you and settling your thighs on his hips and leaning close to you, completely enveloping you in the scent of tobacco leaves and musk and him. His cock throbbed hard inside of you as your legs wrapped about his thighs, pulling him even closer, a silent plead for him to end you.

“Come on now angel”, he sighed, voice tight with control, gently coaxing your hands away from your face with his own, your arms wrapping him to stabilize yourself somehow. “Don’t hide yer pretty face from me.”

His thrust picked up, his lips capturing the screaming moan that escaped them, his hands framing your face as he fucked you relentlessly. Nipping, licking, growling against your mouth and lips and tongue, his thumbs worked slow methodical circles against your face, the tender strokes punctuated by the unabated drive of his hips into your own. Your body began to come undone bit by bit; toes pointing hard as your thighs began to quiver, nails clawing at his shoulders as your walls milked the man. Cole kissed you through your orgasm, grunts and moans of praise tangling between both of your lips, his forehead crushed hard against your as the smack of his skin against yours grew faster and uneven.

“Please Cass”, you breathed against his lips, your body still riding wave after wave of pleasure, wanting to feel him spill inside of you. Your walls milked him even more as you felt him begin to throb, his body on the verge of falling completely over the precipice. “Please fill me up, please I need you baby, I want all of you. Every drop. Please”

Your words slurred as Cole buried his head in the crook of your neck, quiet promises falling against your skin as his hips slammed into your twice more before freezing. Shivering you pressed your lips to the top of his head, each throb of his cock sending bursts of lava throughout your center, your arms tightening even more about his shoulders. Cole was careful to not drop his entire weight on you as your legs finally released him, the man nuzzling into the side of your neck and pressing tender kiss after kiss against your dewy skin.

“Nmmmm I love you darlin’”, he murmured into the side of your neck, as your hands began to card through his hard slowly.

“Love you too Cole”, you hummed softly before stifling a small chuckle, the man inquisitively grunting against your skin. “But you might hate me…I gotta pee again…”

Hi, how are you?

What about something with Joel being reunited with reader, they find out they're alive those 20 years after (they had been hanging out for a while and were so in love with each other, but then the outbreak happened)

Thank you so much ❤️ your writing is amazing!!

AN | You ordered some fluffy fluff? Well, here it is! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mild spoilers for TLOU 2 (if you squint)

Word Count | 3.7k

Masterlist | PP Characters, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll find love again?” 

“What?” you snorted in amusement as you lifted your head to look at the girl lying next to you. She turned to you with a sheepish girl, biting her lip as she shrugged at you, “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

“You’ve never thought about falling in love again?” a dreamy sigh escaped her lips, but she kept her gaze turned up towards the night sky. The two of you were lying on the roof of her building, studying the stars.

“I don’t know,” you admitted in earnest, reaching for her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, “for a long time we weren’t really at liberty to think about that kind of stuff. And I guess I got so used to not having…someone that I never really thought about it anymore.”

“So you haven’t had-”

“I didn’t say that,” you  rolled onto your stomach and perched your chin in your hand as you studied her, “there’s a difference between sex and love, and sometimes we all need some release.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she giggled, covering her warm face as you shrugged, “I don’t know…I just think I like the idea that someday I could fall in love again.”

“And you will,” you promised sweetly, brushing a few locks of hair out of her face, “you’re amazing, Allie. Someone is going to be very lucky to love you and be loved by you.”

“You’re right,” she grinned coquettishly, “I am pretty fucking amazing.”

“Duh.”

“You’ll find someone too,” she insisted and you tried to play her off, “if you want to.”

“I don’t know if I’d even want to,” you confessed softly, turning your face away so she couldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes. You’d thought you’d had it all, and that you’d met the one. Once upon a time, you’d thought he was going to be your future - now you didn’t even know if he was alive, “I don’t…I’ll be okay if it never happens.”

“Everyone deserves love,” she insisted and while you weren’t so sure, you couldn’t deny that her enthusiasm was infectious, “what was his name?”

“Joel,” you whispered softly, the name feeling almost off and foreign on your lips, “his name was Joel.”

“What was he like?” Allie was under the firm belief that talking about things, even if they were painful, was the best therapy of all. You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling, overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions all at once.

“He was….he was a lot of things,” you closed your eyes as you tried to keep the pain at bay and turn it into happy memories, “he was a stubborn man, but he was also so wonderful. He was so kind, smart, and resourceful. He was so deadpan and his humor was dry but he was just so funny. He’d do anything for the people he loved. He…was a carpenter, and worked with his brother. He had a daughter named Sarah - I loved her so much. All of them. Things were so easy with them, with him, I…it seems silly in hindsight, but I really thought I’d spend the rest of my life with Joel.”

“You really loved him, huh?” she reached over and brushed away the tears that had rolled down your cheek. You sniffled before nodding, “what did he look like?”

“He was handsome,” your face flushed with warmth as you remembered the first time you’d seen him. You’d fallen for him then and there, and things had never really changed, “he had dark brown hair, it would always get all curly when he let it get a little longer. He had brown eyes, but they were so pretty, all different shades and kinda like warm honey in the light. He had a beard but there were two little patches that never seemed to grow hair. I used to joke that they were perfect spots for leaving kisses. He had lots of freckles, and he was just…lovely. Maybe I’m just biased but he was really my favorite person ever.”

“I can tell you really loved him,” you closed your eyes and let out a long sigh as you nodded, “I’m sure he loved you just as much.”

“I thought that we might even get married one day,” you admitted, something you’d never even said out loud, “but obviously…life had a different plan.”

“I don’t mean to pry and you can stop me at any time,” she leaned in, her voice sweet and gentle. You knew she meant well and that she cared; she’d already shared her entire story with you, but you’d been more reserved, “what happened?”

“The day everything went to hell,” you finished for her and she nodded gravely, “I had been out of town, visiting a friend. Can you believe it? It might have been the worst timing in the world. We lived in Austin but I was a few hours away. After I saw everything on the news, I tried calling and calling but I couldn’t get through - cell towers were jammed. I thought about driving home that night but it wasn’t safe. The highways were all packed and people were already going crazy. My idea at the time had been to wait until things calmed down and I’d drive home and be with my family. I never got the chance. Life completely fell apart.”

“Oh honey…”

“I blamed myself for a long time,” you whispered, “because of….of all the times I could have chosen to go, and I picked that week. It could have been any other week. I don’t know if they tried to find me or just find safety. I hope it was the latter. I hope they got out safely. That was the last day I ever saw them. That morning before we all left for the day work and school. It was Joel’s birthday too.”

“Oh my god.”

“Worst day of my life,” you rolled onto your back and looked at the stars again, finding some comfort in the fact that if they were still alive they were looking at the very same stars, “I just hope they’re okay. Wherever they are.”

“I’m sure they still love you too,” Allie hugged onto you and you held her back as best as you could, “you don’t ever lose that kind of love.”

“Maybe,” you were willing to dream, even if you had your doubts, “but hey, I love you too, kid.”

“Love you more.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d been unable to sleep that night, finding yourself tossing and turning, memories of what had been plaguing your mind. At some point, when the sun was already peeking over the horizon again, you crawled out of bed and pulled on a pair of boots, deciding to go for a walk. It was still quiet and peaceful, and it would give you the chance to avoid crowds of people. Not that you minded people, but right now you really were just in the mood to be alone. 

You stepped in the early morning sun and stretched, relief in the popping of your joints as you started your little walk. It was quiet out here and safe - safer than anywhere else you’d been. The sounds of the early morning birds and creatures accompanied you, helping to alleviate your thoughts. You concentrated on your breathing and listening to each footfall and tuning into the world around you. 

It worked to an extent and you found yourself feeling better once you decided to go back to town. The place was slowly coming to life and a smile worked its way onto your face. Maybe today you’d clean your place and do all the laundry; a fresh start and hopefully a positive mindset. 

As you made your way back to your place, you found that people seemed to be twittering around excitedly. You didn’t know what was going on, but it made you happy nonetheless. Better to be happy than miserable, right?

“Hey, Bee,” Allie ran up behind you, looping her arm through yours and almost knocking you over excitedly. You laughed at her use of your nickname, which coincidentally had come from her because you were always buzzing around like a honey bee, “have you heard the news?”

“It’s barely daybreak and I’ve just come back from a walk,” you laughed and shook your head, “needless to say, no I haven’t heard the news. What could possibly be so exciting?”

“Newcomers,” she clutched onto your arm, “fresh blood.”

“Ahh, yes,” you nudged her in the side, “how could I forget that you’re the one woman welcoming committee? Or is it just the fact that you’re nosey?”

“I am not n-”

“It’s a sin to lie,” you tutted playfully, “we’re all nosey, in our own way. Are these people vetted?”

“Tommy says he knows ‘em,” she shrugged. You like Tommy…he reminded you so much of Joel and his brother, “says they’re good people. Not just some random outsiders.”

“Well,” you offered a small smile. You’d already long given up on the hope that you’d run into them again. But still, after all this time, your heart always skipped a little at the possibility, however slim, “it’s all good to have new people around. Maybe they can even help keep us all safe.”

“Maybe,” her eyes lit up with excitement, “I’m gonna go and meet them - do you want to come?”

“I’m okay,” your smile was meek as you shook your head, “I’m just gonna do some cleaning today. Maybe plant some fresh veggies since spring is coming up fast.”

“Alright,” she skipped ahead, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I’ll see you later, Bee!”

“See you,” there was an affectionate smile on your face as you watched her run off. She was so kind and cheerful that you couldn’t imagine anyone not loving her. You spotted one of the local stray cats walking around and purring softly, “you want to come and help me?”

The cat paused for a moment, tail twitching before it took off. 

“Me too buddy,” you walked back to your small house, unaware and unassuming of just exactly the turn your day was about to take.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was the late afternoon by the time you emerged from your house again, deciding to go off in search of some seeds to plant. Carol had some at some point, so you figured it was best to start with her. You grabbed a bag and headed off towards her house, distracted by the fat, fluffy clouds in the sky. 

You definitely weren’t paying much attention as you looked up, instead of straight ahead…and promptly proceeded to walk into something. Or someone, rather. You groaned, at yourself rather than anything else as you offered your victim a sheepish expression, “oh no! I am so sorry! Totally not paying attention at all.”

“It’s okay,” that was a voice you didn’t recognize. You turned your gaze to the young woman in front of you and offered her a small smile. She was no doubt one of the newcomers, pretty and athletic looking with a kind smile, “I should have been watching where I was going too. There’s just so much to look at here.”

“You must be new,” she smiled sweetly and nodded. You held out your hand and offered her your name, “but everyone calls me Bee! If you ever need anything or have any questions, or anything at all let me know. It’s hard moving someplace new, but we’re all friendly here…except maybe Andy. He’s still friendly, just kind of old and crotchety. But we’re happy to have you here!”

“Thank you,” she seemed shy but like she’d open up and get more comfortable soon, “I’m Ellie. Crotchety and old sounds kinda like my old man.”

“You came with your dad?” you asked, just as nosey as you’d called Allie.

“It’s…complicated,” she shrugged, but her expression didn’t waiver, “he’s not my dad, but he’s my family.”

“I understand,” you promised softly, “it’s like that for a lot of us these days. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Hope you see you around!”

“You too,” she watched you go, instantly deciding that she liked you. If everyone in Jackson was like you, they would have no time fitting in and making friends.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were stopped a few more times on your way to Carol’s, everyone abuzz and happy today. And all it took was a couple of new faces. 

“Hey Carol-”

“Have you heard the good news?” you crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at her. The older woman offered up a shrug as if to say what can you do? You motioned for her to go on, “the two new folks we’ve got joining.”

“So I’ve heard,” you made yourself at home, as you often did, and went to help yourself to a cup of coffee, “it seems like that’s all anyone is talking about today. I met one of them - a young woman, Ellie. She seemed nice.”

“It’s not just that,” she almost dropped her voice to a whisper and you looked around as if there was someone that she was trying to avoid, “the man with her!”

“And just what about the man with her is the big deal?” Maybe there was something in the water today. You grimaced at your cup before setting it back on the counter. Just in case. 

“It’s Tommy’s brother!” 

“I didn’t know Tommy had a brother,” you still weren’t following, “is he like a long lost brother?”

“They haven’t seen each other in a few years,” she explained, “but apparently he used to be in good with the Fireflys. Just like Tommy before he and Maria left. Anyway, they’ve always been close, but it’s…it’s nice to see him so happy.”

Your heart skipped a few beats as it seemed to rattle around your chest. Surely, this was all some sort of weird coincidence or something. Similar situations….that was all. Besides, Tommy was a common name and lots of people had brothers. But you just…couldn’t hold back your curiosity, “what’s his name? Tommy’s brother?”

“I’m afraid I don’t sweetheart know,” she gave your shoulder a squeeze as you tried to hide the disappointed look on your face, “I’m sure you can catch the two of them. They’re going around so Tommy can show him everything.”

“Thanks,” you were heading towards the door without a second thought. 

“Wait - what did you need?” she pointed to your bag as you shook your head.

“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” you grinned, “I’ll be back later. But right now I-I have to go.”

You almost ran out of her house, leaving her staring after you with a confused expression. You looked around for the man in question, but didn’t see him anywhere nearby. You huffed lightly and went up to the first person you saw, a young man who you were pretty sure was named Ryan, “hey - have you seen Tommy?”

“Somewhere along the outskirts near the west perimeter,” he pointed over his shoulder, and you were already pushing past him with so much as a glance back. You walked as quickly as you could towards the edge of town, eventually resorting to a slow run when you grew impatient. 

Luckily, you quickly spotted two figures at the edge and your heart almost burst out of your chest with nervous anticipation and excitement, “Tommy!”

He turned around at the sound of your approaching footsteps, an easy smile on his face when he realized it was you, “Bee!”

“I heard,” you took a moment to catch your breath, clutching at the stitch in your side as your eyes were practically glue to the other man’s frame, “I heard-”

“I’m sure you did,” he laughed, an easy sound that you liked, “word travels fast around here. Bee, this is brother - Joel.”

No, no, no. Even now you were convinced that it was all some sort of cosmic coincidence. The man in question slowly turned around to take a look at you. As soon as you were able to get a good look at him, your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. There was no way, right? Right?

The man in front of you was older, with peppered gray hair, more line in his face, and a hardened look about him. But there was no mistaking it - him. This was him…after all these years he was standing right in front of you. His expression shifted through a slew of different emotions as he studied you, trying to process the same thing you were internally freaking out about.

“Joel?” his name fell from your lips so softly that it almost wasn’t audible. When he didn’t say anything at first, you wondered if he didn’t remember you for some reason or something.

But then you heard it - the soft whisper of your name. You were somewhere between tears and shock and laughter and all you managed to do was give him a teary nod. And then it happened so fast - you’d both stepped forward and he quickly wrapped you in his arms, crushing you to his chest, as he held onto you tightly. 

You were definitely crying by this moment, burying your face into his chest, afraid that if you loosened your grip you’d lose him all over again. You heard him sniffle as well, and he pressed soft kisses to the side of your head, his heart beating wildly. 

It seemed like the two of you head onto each for an eternity before slowly pulling apart, studying each other in awe. You cradled his face gently in your hands as you looked him over, admiring how he’d aged over the years despite the world weary look on his face. You brushed your thumb over the apple of his cheek, wiping away the tears that had pearled up and ran down his cheeks. You really hoped this wasn’t some sort of dream because waking up from it would be a nightmare. 

“You look - “

“Old,” he finished for you in true Joel fashion. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips; the sound had become a memory over the years but it all came flooding back to him and went straight to his heart. The corners of his mouth twitched up slightly at your response.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” you insisted softly, “I was going to say you look good. You know, despite everything,”

“You look as beautiful as I remember,” he put his hand under your chin and turned your face up to his. This time it was tears running down your cheeks, “are you actually real or have I died and gone to heaven?”

“I’m here,” you promised, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and giving it a gentle squeeze, “I just can’t believe you are. After all this time…”

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he confessed, harsh and broken. He paused for a moment before turning to his brother, “how come you never told me she was here?”

“I didn’t realize…it was her,” he admitted sheepishly. You hadn’t realized it was him either. Back before the world fell apart you’d only met Tommy a few times and he had changed a lot, “I feel so stupid now. And everyone just called you Bee, and I never thought…”

“I didn’t realize either,” you choked out a laugh in between your tears, “but it doesn’t matter - you’re here now. And I….fuck. I’ve missed you so much…every day. I had no clue if you were alright, but there was always a small bit of me that never gave up hope.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m glad you found each other,” Tommy offered the two of you a small wave before turning to go back and give you some privacy.

“We looked for you,” he promised as if you needed some sort of reassurance, “for so long. But-”

“Hey,” you gently trailed your fingers along his jaw, “the world was falling apart. We were all lost. None of that matters anymore. This is all that matters.”

The two of you studied each other, long and hard, before he held your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, capturing them in a soft, but fervent kiss. It had been a long time since you’d been kissed and they’d been nothing compared to this. Once you were reacquainted with the touch and taste of him, you let him kiss you until you were breathless and dizzy. It felt like no time at all had passed. 

When he pulled back, a look of concern crossed his features, “I-I’m sorry. I should have asked. I don’t even know if…there’s someone else.”

“There’s no one else,” you were quick to reassure him and he visibly relaxed, “there’s never been anyone else. Only a few…well you know.”

“I know,” he nodded in agreement, his hand gently tasting against your neck, “I imagined this moment so many times. But it still didn't live up to the real thing.”

“Me too,” you hummed in agreement before pulling him in for another hug, “I can’t believe you’re here. There’s just…so much to talk about.”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “but right now, I just want to enjoy this moment - enjoy you.”

“I agree,” you leaned in and stole a few more kisses, “you’re about to be bombarded by the entire town so we’d better make the most of it. Luckily, I know a quiet spot.”

“If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re trying to seduce me,” there was that humor you loved so much. You playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“What if I am?” you teased, “is it working?”

“Always,” he promised softly, causing you to beam at him, “promise me one thing?”

“Anything, Joel.”

“We’ll stay together this time, no matter what.”

“I promise,” you took his hand in yours, threading your fingers together, “I promise.”

One Last Chance

masterlist

pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note / request - I was given two prompts by the lovely @auroracalisto thank you for giving me these to write my very first steve fic!!! <3 enjoy !this turned out to be really angsty lol sorry

summary - vecna picked you, not max

warnings / includes - s4 spoilers! mild language, established relationship, gore details, cute couple stuff

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“I’m so stupid,” Steve whispers. “How did I not know? She’s my girlfriend, for God’s sake. I’ve been with her for almost a year, and I couldn’t tell that she was in pain? What kind of boyfriend am I?”

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” Nancy assures. “She didn’t tell anyone. She hid it well. She didn’t want you to know.”

Steve sighs and looks back at your sleeping figure. He knows Nancy is right, but it still shatters his heart. He devoted all his time to being the best boyfriend he could, especially after the mistakes he made with Nancy. He thought he did everything right, but since Vecna appeared, he found out he didn’t.

Keep reading

Good Vibrations

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] 18+

“Shh, baby, s’alright,” Steve cooed, kissing sweetly at your cheek as he cradled your face in his hands. “Oh my girl, that feels good, huh? Yeah?”

You nodded, eyes squeezing closed at the intensity of it. You were lying on the boys bed, Steve’s shirt pulled up your ribs to show off your tits, toes curled and pressed into the mattress as you continued to push the vibrator inside of you. It was a sweetly cruel kind of torture, the boy standing at the edge of the mattress, a pair of sweats slung low on his hips as he hovered over you, watching with hooded eyes. 

Every now and then, Steve bent at the knees, pressed upside down kisses to your heated skin, over your jaw and neck as his hands cupped and petted at you, licking into your parted lips as you whined high for him. He never took his eyes off of you, hands roaming over your chest to flick over your hard nipples, a palm flat and rough down your sternum and over the soft of your tummy. He’d nudge at your thighs, give you a little, sharp tap and tell you in a lovely, rough rasp:

“Keep ‘em spread for me, baby. That’s a good girl.”

The toy was purchased a few days before, on a trip that was meant for new underwear. Steve had stopped a whole shelf of them along the back wall, bright pink boxes hidden amongst silk and lace, and it really hadn’t taken a lot to convince you. The soft silicone was a light lilac colour, nowhere near as long or as thick as your boyfriend but it was still enough to make you feel full and the little ears that vibrated over your clit made your back arch real prettily. 

Steve groaned when you squirmed, the length of the toy buried deep inside of you, slick and wet gathering on your bare thighs and you tried your best to fight against the boy’s hold, trying hard to squeeze your thighs together at the feel of the vibrations. Your eyes turned glassy as Steve reached between your legs, tutted condescendingly when he felt how soaked you were and he used two fingers in the shape of a ‘v’ to pull at your folds. You cried out at the new contact, the little ears buzzing against your skin.

“Steve!” You squealed, cheeks flushed, jaw slack as you threw your head back, your face buried in the boy’s side as he leaned over you. “Fu-uck, shit, it’s too much, please--”

“Oh, baby,” Steve tsked, voice all sweet, sticky and fond for you. “Baby, look at you, so fuckin’ pretty, huh? My pretty, pretty girl, doin’ so good for me.”

You whined, grabbed behind your head at Steve’s thighs, gripping the grey cotton of his sweats to try and ground yourself. You could see the hard outline of his cock above you, twitching and jumping underneath the material when you spread your legs wider for him. He took the opportunity to press down on the button at the base of the toy, the small motor kicking in more as the vibrations kicked up a notch.

“Fuck!”

Steve laughed, huffed out a breath and kissed his way back up your body, letting you feel his grin as he grazed his teeth over his favourite parts of you - your hips, the dip of your waist, the soft swell of your stomach, the underside of your breast. 

“You gonna come?” Steve whispered, his nose pressed to your cheek as you panted out for him, nuzzling into your neck. “You’re close aren’t you, baby? I can tell, I know, I know, you wanna come so bad, don’t you?”

Your eyes turned glassy as he spoke, glazing over as his words took you to a whole other space. You felt dreamy, your body on fire, everywhere tingling as you pressed the toy deeper inside of you, hips canting as you tried to find the spot that only Steve’s cock could.

You groaned out, a little frustrated, blinking prettily as wet gathered on your lash line. You sniffed, gasped out at the twitch of the ears over your clit and when your eyes fluttered shut, tears slipped from your eyes and rolled down one cheek, gathering at the hair by your ear.

“Oh honey,” Steve cooed, “don’t cry, you’re okay, aren’t you?” Steve had seen this before, the way you got lost in your own pleasure, in the way he touched you, how overwhelmed you could get as you searched for your high, letting him touch you until your lip quivered and your cheeks turned wet. “My sweet thing, just so fuckin’ desperate, aren’t you? Greedy, little thing.”

“Steve, please,” you cried, sniffling as you rocked your hips against your own hand, pulling at the boy’s sweats until he bent down beside you, giving you the attention you wanted. “Want you.”

“Yeah?” Steve murmured softly, bringing one hand to brush against your face, cradling your jaw and tilting your head back over the edge of the bed so you were looking at him upside down. “You want me? Shit, babe, aren’t you just so cute?”

Normally, that’s all it took for Steve to stop teasing, to crawl onto the bed with you and groan something filthy as he slipped the toy out of you and replaced it with his own, much bigger cock. But he kissed you instead, moaning when you opened your mouth for him, tongues pushing over the other, messy and desperate until Steve took control and made you slow down. 

He pulled back a little, pressed one peck, two pecks against your pouting lips and he smiled down at you. 

“Want me to keep your mouth busy? Yeah? This pretty, little mouth?” Steve asked you, nose sliding along the bridge of your own. He nuzzled at you, looked down the line of your body to see you bring one knee up and plant your foot on the bed, legs falling apart to fuck the buzzing toy in and out of yourself. “Make you feel nice n’ full, yeah, baby?”

Steve slid two fingers over your lips, pulled at your bottom lip until it fell back into place with a soft ‘pop’. He smiled at you, cooed all pretty when you whined for him, blinking wetly as the vibrator nudged up inside you, catching the spot you’d been looking for.

“Open your mouth for me, sweetheart, there you go,” Steve hummed happily and your body buzzed with praise. “So good, such a good fuckin’ girl.”

You let your lips part, mouth open and you groaned around Steve’s fingers, eyes fluttering when they dragged heavily across the flat of your tongue and then the boy was standing again, pulling at his cottons with one hand as she stared down at you with pupils blown wide.

“Shit baby, fuck, you want somethin’ bigger?”

You nodded, whimpered softly when Steve took his fingers from your mouth and dragged his hard, heavy cock out of his sweatpants. He fisted himself, jaw slack as he stood over you, staring at the way you licked your lips at the sight of his dick, gaze dragging down to your cunt, watching how you started fucking yourself a little faster.

“Ah, ah,” he scolded gently, “slow down, baby.”

You swore, breath stuttering and catching in your chest ‘cause you were so close to coming and watching Steve fuck into his own hand was more than enough to send you toppling over the edge. Your body was on fire, thighs quivering, bottom lip wobbling, but you did as you were told, slowing down your movements. 

“Stevie,” you gasped, squirming on his sheets, making them wrinkle under your bare body, “m’so close, please.”

Steve tugged at himself, lips parting, hair falling into his eyes and he groaned, hips canting and chasing his own touch ‘cause hearing you say that never got old. He took his time to look at you, all spread out on his own bed, head over the edge with your lips parted, mouth waiting to be fucked.

“I know, I know,” he soothed, his free hand cupping your chin, thumb rubbing softly over your throat. “You wanna come so bad, I know. But you’re gonna be a good girl for me, right, baby?” Steve pouted when you nodded, all sweet and mean for you, fingers and thumb squeezing softly at your cheeks, your neck. “Open up, pretty girl.”

You took his cock eagerly, his head slipping past your lips as you did as you were told, tongue swirling over the tip of him, making him swear above you. You reached up with one hand, trying to hold the base of him, thick and warm in your grip, but Steve tutted and pulled your hand away, making you whine.

“S’okay, baby, I’ve got you, yeah?” Steve encouraged your hand back to your cunt, fingers slipping messily over the wet slick there, spreading your folds with sticky fingers so the ears of the toy could flick back and forth over your clit easily. “Let me help you, that’s a good girl, Christ, yeah, just like that.”He held you face with one hand, cradling your cheek, thumb soothing over the hollow of it as you kept your mouth open for him, lips slick and glossy, eyes wide and wet as you stared up at him. The toy buzzed and Steve let out pretty little gasps and grunts, trying not to rock his hips too much, doing his best not to hurt you but he was close to being wrecked as he watched his cock slide in and out of your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, can feel your throat,” he babbled, “you look so good baby, so pretty with my cock in your mouth, fucking yourself nice and slow for me, yeah?”

Your hand quickened, unable to help yourself as Steve talked dirty above you, hands petting sweetly at your face, your hair, your tits as he said the prettiest, dirtiest things to you. The toy buzzed louder when you pushed it deeper, hips flying up off the bed as you pushed it in and up, the silicone flicking over your clit harder than before. You moaned out, eyes glassy, throat tightening around Steve’s cock as it slipped a little too far, more than you could handle.

You gagged and spluttered a little, whining when Steve pulled back, groaning and cooing down at you, his thumb swiping over the corner of your mouth to clean up your mess. 

“Oh fuck, shitshitshit,” the boy choked out, fisting his cock over your face, looking positively wrecked for you. “Easy, sweetheart, don’t want you hurtin’ yourself, huh? Here baby, just take the tip, yeah? S’just too much for you, isn’t it? I know, I know.”

Your body seized up, the hook in you tummy tightening and pulling hot as he spoke, feeding his cock back to you as he held it in his big hand, letting you lick and suck at the tip as you fucked the toy into yourself faster and harder. You were crying, whining, overwhelmed and feeling so fucking good you couldn’t stand it.

“That’s a girl,” Steve grunted, softly swiping away the tears that were gathering under your lashes. “So fucking good for me, yeah, just take the tip for me, baby, so good.”

You kept sucking, lips pouted and wet around Steve’s cock, tongue lazing across the head as you whined, lashes fluttering as your eyes fell shut. It was easy to come like this, you realised all too quickly, your cunt fluttering around the vibrating toy, the tip of it nudging up against somewhere sweet inside of you, your clit tingling with all the attention. And the thickness of Steve was something completely tantalising, the thickness of his cock heavy and grounding on your tongue. He was still touching you, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around himself sweeping over different parts of you as he moaned out praises and dirty compliments.

He knew you were coming before you did, watching the way your body tensed up, how you were too busy licking over the hard length of his cock to realise what was about to hit you. And then you were slipping into the pleasure, letting him fall from your mouth as your head fell back and a filthy, pretty whine fell from your lips. 

Your thighs snapped together, your hand and the toy trapped between as you rocked into the vibrations, riding out your orgasm with eyes shut, cheeks flushed and toes curled. You moaned out the boy's name, over and over and over until he was groaning above you, head thrown back and jaw slack as he asked you if you could come on you.

You’d barely gasped out a ‘yes’ before he was painting your stomach, his hand a blur as he fucked himself into his fist, his cock wet and slick from your mouth and Steve was groaning something sinful as he came, eyes a dark caramel as he watched himself coat your tits.

“Christ,” Steve gasped out, flopping down beside you, making the bed bounce and you roll into his side. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

"are you the person who says goodnight to everyone at 9PM then stays up all night reading fanfictions at tumblr?"

#What is happening

He’ll never disappoint me

The ghosts are piling on

“i’m in my slut era” i say as i open tumblr to read fanfictions of characters who don’t exist 

I mean, the good news is, I get a big enough thump on my head, I can change, you know? I can learn. I can crawl forward.

Steve + caring for everyone when nobody expects it

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary a lot of things can happen before dinner. or, a snapshot into your life with steve, three daughters and a big secret. [3.1k]

warnings kid!fic, steve!centric / steve’s pov, dad!steve, mom!reader, afab!reader (reader is the birth mom of their three kids), fluff, a ridiculous amount of kisses and hugs, steve trying to figure out why you’re so tired and tense, pregnancy reveal, pregnant!reader, happy tears, a joke about lice (sorry), this was requested kind of here

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"Can we have popsicles?" Avery asks. 

Steve looks down from where he's making dinner to find his three daughters. Avery, the oldest, stands at the front of their triangle with her puppy dog eyes already wide and shimmering. She's taller every time he looks at her lately. Constantly growing.

He wipes his hands on a hand towel. "Ave, dinner will be ready soon." 

"Please?" asks Beth, the second oldest. 

Beth, or more affectionately Bethie, stands at Ave's left. She's young enough to miss some words when speaking but old enough to hold very interesting conversation. She's also the Daddy's girl of the lot, and he almost cracks when she brings her two hands together pleadingly. 

Steve doesn't even want to look at Dove because he knows she'll melt his reluctance instantly. Being the baby, she has a lot of power. She calls the majority of the shots these days. She's a little bit wobbly on her feet as she approaches, freshly turned two years old and the cutest thing Steve has ever seen. 

"What do you think, Dove? You want a popsicle?" he asks, always encouraging her to speak. It's nearly unnecessary considering how often her sisters speak to her. 

"Yes," Dove says quickly, pushing past her sisters to cling to his leg. She's usually a total mommy's girl. Her affection all but seals the deal.

He scoops her up with a smile. "Well…" 

"Mom says it's okay," Avery adds. 

"Yeah?" He grins at them. "If your mom says it's okay then you can definitely have popsicles." 

They form a small crowd at the freezer. Steve pulls out the box and they're patient as they choose their favourite flavours. Raspberry for Beth, cherry for the other two. He peels back the thin plastic wrappings and encircles the wooden sticks with tissue paper to try and prevent sticky hands. 

His three girls linger. 

"What?" he asks, wondering why they haven't run off to finish watching their movie. 

"Mom said we have to give you a kiss," Ave says. 

"Did she?" 

"Thank you kiss," Beth adds. 

He squats down, beaming. "Your mom is totally right. You do have to give me kisses. At least one on each cheek." 

He receives two prim kisses from Avery, two shy, soft ones from Beth and a very reluctant one from Dove, who's much more interested in her cold snack than any affection. He wipes the sticky kiss prints off of his cheeks and stands as they all totter out, a single form line that makes him want to take a picture. 

Speaking of their mother, where are you? 

He turns the pots on the stovetop to simmer and peeks his head into the living room, looking for you. You're not on the couch like he'd thought you'd be, Ave in your usual seat and Dove trying her best to climb up beside her. Steve watches her rub pink all over the couch and thanks god for fake leather.

"Where's mom?" he asks.

Only Beth looks up. "What?" she asks.

"Where's mommy, do you know?" 

"She was upstairs," Ave says, lips stained cherry red. 

"Can you keep an eye on Dove, please?" 

Ave nods and wraps an arm around her little sister's shoulder protectively. He feels a swelling of pride. 

Steve jogs up the stairs. You're in Beth's bedroom making her bed, looking very tired. Shoes off but coat still on, you've barely been home from work an hour. You're exhausted.

Steve believes that Friday night should be a time to relax. Let Saturday morning suffer all the neglected chores.  Pushing yourself to clean won’t do you any favours. 

"Hey, angel. Don't start in here, I'll do it after dinner." 

You shrug and give him a small smile. "That's okay. I like doing it." 

He waits for you to finish making the bed and then sidles into your space, arms around you in a hug before you know what he's doing. You smell like spearmint. 

"You don't look the best," he says worriedly, arm behind your neck to hold you in place as he presses a firm kiss to your temple. "You need to take it easy." 

You hug him back, your arms a familiar warmth against his back. "I'm okay, Stevie." 

"I know, just…" He gives you another kiss before tucking you into his front. He doesn't say it. He hopes it's implied: how something happening to you would crush him into tiny pieces. 

"I like taking care of them," you say. If he didn't know you better he'd think you were being defensive. 

He pats your back with a big palm. "I know that. You're the best mom ever, babe." 

You can't help smiling at his words, though you continue, "I don't want you to have to do everything." 

"I don't do everything, Y/N, you're just tired tonight. It's okay to take a break. We'll do everything that needs to get done tomorrow. Or Sunday," he attempts a joke. 

"You worked all day, too," you murmur. 

Looking after your three kids is work. Hard work. He really does need your help when you get home. There's baths and homework and dinner. Even when the older pair are in school, there’s laundry, shopping, cleaning, and Dove is a full time job. An adorable, brilliant full time job, but demanding all the same. He wouldn't change it for the world. 

With that in mind, Steve will always try to take the extra weight when you're not feeling up to it. In the same way you'll do it for him, in how you call in sick to work when there's too much laundry and the house is a tornado, or how you'll let him sleep in at the end of a long week and only wake him up when the breakfast is served and the kids are all dressed. 

It's a partnership. It's being selfless, and asking for help when you need it. 

He's told you that before and he knows you know it. He doesn't worry about telling you again, rubbing your back until you've gone lax in his arms. 

"Dinner's ready," he says quietly. He pulls away from you, although it's the last thing he wants to do, and cups your face in his hand. "Think we should eat on the couch tonight? Might be nice. You can sit with Beth." And I'll have Dove, he doesn't say. Dove's the handful at meal times. 

"Thanks," you say, looking up at him with way too much gratitude. He stomps it away ruthlessly – as in, with a chaste kiss and a squeeze of your cheek. 

"We're a team," he says with a grin. "In case you forgot." 

You lean into his touch. "I didn't forget." There's something very heavy in the way you say it. He chalks it up to how tired you are and shepherds you downstairs. 

In the living room the kids are in disarray. All covered in sticky juice, Beth stands by the tv with her tissue in hand but her popsicle missing. 

You find it soon enough in Ave's fist. The oldest holds both, seeming neither sad nor happy about it, Dove at her side gnawing on a naked stick. You slip it out of her hand and she looks like she might cry, but she’s quickly sated by the sight of you and your lips pressed to her crown.

Dinner and cleaning. Steve gives you the easier task. "You wanna go do dinner?" 

You nod. You leave with Ave and Beth’s half-melted popsicles and return with a dampened hand towel for him. He accepts and smiles at you fondly, following your tense shoulders as you disappear down the hall.

Steve sits on the couch and wipes down Dove first. She hates it, to his chagrin, squirming and whining the whole while. Avery doesn't care, letting him clean her hands and cheeks with her eyes glued to the TV. She's old enough now to go wash her hands when asked but Steve loves to dote, telling her thank you with a bubbly affection that has her beaming.

He looks for his middle kid and finds her exactly where she'd been before, hovering in front of the TV. 

"Beth, baby, c'mere," he prompts, holding out his hands. She climbs into his lap without a peep. 

He cleans her small hands first. They're a lot like yours, especially the shape of her nails, and he takes very good care of them. "You have your mom's hands," he tells her. 

Beth perks up. "I do?" 

He holds up his hand. "See, they don't look anything like mine." 

"Oh," she says, sounding put out. Where Dove favours her mom and Ave has learned to lie and say she loves her parents equally, Beth is a daddy's girl through and through. 

"They're beautiful," he says quickly. "Just as pretty as mommy's." 

She goes a little shy at the compliment, her face angling down. He tilts it up gently to wipe her warm cheeks clean. 

She pouts as he rubs the towel over her lips, "Dad," she complains. 

"What? Your lips are blue." 

He pats her dry with an untouched corner and smiles, finding one of her hands to squeeze. "All done." 

He isn't surprised when she stays in his lap. He worms an arm around her back and she collapses in the way little kids do, all at once like a balloon that's been popped. He lets his nose sink into her hair and breathes in her smell. 

"Will you do me a favour?" he asks her quietly. 

She looks up. "What?" 

"Will you sit with mom for dinner? She needs a good hug like this one." He lays the compliment down thickly. 

Beth nods with a funny look on her face. He wonders what she's thinking but is quickly distracted — jealousy is a powerful emotion and soon there's tiny hands on his legs, Dove's crying still so much like a baby's that it makes his chest ache. 

It's very bittersweet to have them growing up. He hates to admit that he misses having a little baby around and worries about telling you. He doesn't want you to think you have to want more, or feel guilty in any way if you don't. 

In any case, Steve wants a huge family and he always has but he'd say easily that the one he has now is perfect the way it is. 

He frowns as Dove bubbles into hysterics. "Bethie," he says apologetically. 

Beth slides off of his lap and wanders into the kitchen as Steve takes Dove into his arms with a sigh. "You're not very nice to your sister, you know that?" He can't stay mad when she does the same thing as Beth had, dissolving in his lap. 

Avery approaches wantonly. 

"Ave? Do you want a hug?" he asks. 

"I'm hungry," Ave says, draping herself over his legs, all drama. 

"Mom's doing it. You can go help, if you want to." 

Ave climbs onto the sofa beside him. There’s a sheepishness to it that worries him, expecting an admission. A smashed glass or forgotten homework. 

"What?" he asks her knowingly. 

"Can I ask you something?" she whispers. 

Steve frowns but quickly hides it away. "Sure, Ave. You can ask me anything." 

She nods and her hand grasps his shoulder as she leans into his ear, her attempt at whispering clumsy and endearing. "Is mom okay?" 

Steve narrowly avoids Dove's forehead slamming into his chin as he startles. "Why wouldn't mom be okay?" 

"She was sick." 

Steve blinks at her. "What?" 

"She was throwing up. I asked if she was okay and she said to come ask you for the popsicles." 

He doesn't know why you were throwing up. He'll ask, but first. "Ave," he murmurs, holding an arm out. She's as tall as him when she stands on the couch, and her head falls against his, her small cheek to his chin. Dove is quietly annoyed at his stolen attention. "Your mom is fine. I’ll take care of her." 

"She's sad all the time this week." 

He frowns. "Baby, she's not sad. She's tired. She's really tired, but I promise she's not sad. Don't worry about mom, okay?" 

Avery slides down the couch cushion behind her and away from him. "Okay." 

He kisses the top of her head. "Thank you, princess," he says quickly. 

He picks up Dove and carries her with him into the kitchen. You're almost done, and he's glad to have caught you. 

Beth lingers by your legs. You're having a half conversation with her about school, wooden spoon in hand. 

"Beth, let me talk to mom?" he asks, giving her an apologetic smile. She grumbles all the way out of the room. 

You look up at him with wide eyes. Dove, having seen you, wants to be in your arms rather than his. You take her and dot a few soft kisses over the side of her face as she settles in your hold. 

"You were sick?" he asks, straight to the point, maybe a tiny bit angry that you hadn’t told him but more worried than anything. 

"Just… a bit." 

"You weren't gonna tell me?”

"I was. Later. After dinner." 

He bumps your hip to take the pan of golden-brown veggies and starts to dish them out. "How long have we been together?" 

You smile at him. It's always been hard to pinpoint when you stopped being Y/N and Steve and started being Y/N and Steve. Slowly, so slowly, you'd come together, and now all of a sudden you're a family down the line with no signs of coming apart. 

"I need you to tell me when you're sick, no matter how busy you think I am." He scoops out what's left of the veggies onto your plate and then looks at you, worried you won't be able to eat. "Is it food poisoning? Nerves? I'll call the doctor after dinner, we'll-" 

"It's not food poisoning." 

He stares at you. Really stares at you. Thinks about how tired you've been. "Baby, are you-" 

He cuts off when you lean against the kitchen counter behind you and promptly burst into tears. Quiet and fierce, fat teardrops crest your cheeks and don't stop. Dove looks rightfully panicked. Steve would find her concerned little face turning to him adorable any other time. 

His heart breaks for you. "Hey," he says, frowning. "Hey hey hey, you're okay. It's okay. Come here, baby." 

You let him hug you. One hand to your back, the other on Dove's, trying to manage her and comfort you at the same time. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I'm really sorry, I was gonna tell you tonight, when they were sleeping, and I wanted to tell you a week ago, Stevie." 

You sound as young as you did when Steve first met you. "Baby," he murmurs, trying to be the calm to your panic. His thoughts come a thousand a second. 

"I was going to tell you, I promise." 

"Is that what you're worried about? I'm not mad." He speaks carefully, though the reality is sinking in, and his heart is racing. 

You're pregnant. 

He remembers the first time you'd told him, just like this, all tears and panic. Worried about how you'd do it, how you'd manage. And Steve had said exactly what he plans to say now – anything you want to do is what he wants to do. That he loves you. That you're perfect, and that your choice won't change that. He'd comforted you for days the first time. Weeks. Even after you'd made the decision to stay pregnant and to have Avery, you'd needed a lot of support and he'd given it to you in droves. He's more prepared to do it again. 

You look up at him and you're smiling despite the tears. 

He realises he might have miscalculated; you're overwhelmed by emotion, but that emotion isn't wholly unhappy. 

You hold his gaze. "Steve," you say, tears pushed down your cheeks from the force of your smile. 

His heart skips in his chest. It soars. 

He crushes his lips to your forehead and laughs. "Oh my god," he says, kissing you haphazardly. "My girl. Holy shit." 

"I got you a- a card," you say, still crying. 

"Yeah?" he asks, feeling close to tears himself. 

"S'in the car." 

"I'm gonna get you more than a card. I'm gonna get you a parade." 

"You're happy?" you ask him. 

And there's so much to talk about: if you're ready for another baby, where the baby will fit, the mortgage and the car and the kids. Steve knows how it goes now, the hours upon hours of worrying and sorting and reassuring you and himself that it's something you can do if you want to. 

More than if you're ready – if you can handle another baby. If you're well enough to be pregnant again. He looks at your poor tired face and feels that crushing awe he always feels when you are, can’t believe that right now you have a whole huge process taking place that could potentially become another Avery, or Beth, or Dove. 

You sound like you want to do it. And if you want to, he's ecstatic. 

"Are you kidding me? Baby." He plasters you in kisses. Every inch of your face. You giggle wetly and you're holding Dove so tight that she starts to laugh too, the three of you breathing in funny wet huffs as he paints over your skin with his mounting affection. He loves you so much he might die right there. 

Beth appears in the doorway, quickly followed by Avery. The oldest is peeved. 

"Dad! You told me she wasn't sad!" she says, distressed. 

You laugh some more and are quick to comfort her. "I'm not sad, Avey-baby, these are happy tears." 

"Why?" 

You look at Steve with a precious, beaming smile. "You wanna tell them?" 

He gives you another smacking kiss on your cheek. "You're my everything," he says to you, eyes locked.

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with a huge smile. He turns to the girls and grins maniacally. 

"Mommy's got lice! They're sucking her blood and making her tired!" 

"Steve!" you try to scold, your surprised laughter breaking up any real malice. 

"And they're catching!" 

"Ew!" Beth shouts. 

Steve grabs Beth up and says, to her horror, "She already gave them to me, Bethie, and we have enough to go around."

He watches Ave cross the kitchen and hug your hip, still worried. You bend down to rub your nose against hers.

"Daddy, put me down! Now!" Beth screams, writhing away from him. She can’t escape his tight grip, practiced now in handling unhappy babies. 

"Don't be like that, Bethie. Sharing is caring." 

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thanks so much for reading! | my masterlist

if you enjoyed reading, please thing about reblogging! i promise it makes a big difference <3

#henderfam💛

reblogging this to show my mom

“the millenium falcon would wipe out the enterprise in seconds” lmao the enterprise is just an innocent science class floating thru space…. all they wanna do is look at some rocks… kiss an alien…. find some space plants….. why would you fight that its not a battleship theyre just nerds…… leave them olone 

Dating Billy Hargrove HC's

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

show: stranger things

will be writing a separate headcanon about Billy being angry.

warnings: cursing, abusive parents, dysfunctional relationships, toxic lovers, romanticism of toxic character. borderline NSFW because sex is a part of relationships (and this is Billy we're talking about, so...) so please proceed maturely.

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞

• strap in - let's fucking GOOOOOOOOO

• this boy is something else, okay? he's like nobody you've ever met, anyone you've ever dated - he's unlike anybody in this small town that you've grown up in your whole life.

• he's a Cali boy - he even smells like trouble!

• oh, but Billy Boy isn't all that meets the eye. he's complex, he's damaged, he's confused, he's harboring a lot of anger and resentment.

• his mom's been gone and out of the picture for so long, one might worry he's taken on a harmful view towards women. however, that's not the case at all.

• you meet on his first day of school - i know, i know, how cliche, right? only it was completely unavoidable. you were a star student, all right? your grades weren't stellar but they weren't bad; you tested decently well; maybe you played a sport and had a club or two you attended.

• it makes you the perfect student for the guidance counselor to select "randomly" to help show the new kid around.

• he's not very warm when you first meet. he's got this look in his eye and they way he totally shmoozed Miss McKenna (the principals own middle aged assistant) was enough to make your mind throw up multiple red flags.

• so you show him around. answer a few questions but when he tries to get personal, maybe asking what you were doing after school, you insist the tour's over and he could find his way from there.

• you don't give him a second glance as you leave him alone in the hallway and Billy's lips are pulling in a smirk.

• he was unlike anyone you knew - but you were the exact breath of fresh air Billy needed.

• so, he pines. poor baby doesn't know what to do when a girl isn't melting on the spot when he looks at her. in fact, he's not seen you or spoken to you since you showed him around.

• drives him a little crazy but he's fine. because eventually, he finds you one day, after school, looking distraught. it's obvious you want to be alone based on your location and Billy's never been the comforting type, all right?

• doesn't stop him from approaching you and silently taking the seat on the pavement beside you. he doesn't speak. just lights a cigarette and hands it to you before lighting one for himself. the silence prolongs until you break it.

• "what're you doing here?" you sniffled, trying to hide the emotion you felt.

• and Billy would shrug, "just hangin'. looked like you could've used some company."

• you're vulnerable, so, you admit you're waiting for your father and when you mention you don't have the best relationship, he goes rigid with understanding and empathy.

• an emotion he's NOT accustomed to.

• he learns your father and mother divorced years ago and he's been in and out of your life since. however, he called that morning and begged to pick you up from school so you could have some 'father-daughter time'... yet here you were, tears in your eyes, waiting on a man who wouldn't show.

• Billy offers you a ride home and finds he enjoys your banter so much, he offers to drive you home the next day.

• you're a little suspicious but he doesn't make a single move. he just drives you home after school, both of you lost in some ridiculous conversation that you're not even sure how it started.

• it then turns into him picking you up before school, too. just for a little extra time together.

• oh, and then, he was coming to your house on the weekends.

• he didn't mind you fussing in his hair if it meant he could light a joint and relax without the fear of his father.

• in fact, Billy becomes so dependent on you and the escape your presence provides him that he keeps a small duffel bag full of clothes in your closet. for emergencies, you know?

• and there are a few emergencies, sure. you're pretty used to him crashing a night there. you'll wash the dirty clothes he leaves and put them in the duffel after for next time.

• again, he's a Cali boy so he smokes. and he'll be really critical of the weed in Hawkins 'cause he's used to 'good shit'.

• but considering the small town, he takes what he can get.

• you have a lot of open, honest, vulnerable conversations when smoking because both of your filters will go down.

• he doesn't realize it until later but those are the moments he's opening himself up to you most in. while scary, he feels something akin to relief and gratitude to have someone to share parts of himself with.

• your friendship starts off innocent; just two people hanging out, cracking jokes, complaining about their home life. but it changes around December.

• you become close to Max - it's almost impossible not to. you're fond of Billy and would do what you could to help take him away from the pain of his father, but Max didn't really have anyone.

• until the party adopted her, but outside that, she got used to seeing you around a lot. and no, you never minded when she'd ask for your help on something; be it boys, school, friends, or her skateboard.

• you and Max bond by her teaching you to skate. and Billy won't admit it, but his heart felt ten times lighter the day he looked out the window and saw your hands clasped in Max's, rolling on her board, both of you laughing so hysterically, it made you fall to the grass.

• the laughter didn't end for the rest of the day, and Max wondered if this was what a sister felt like.

• in December, you accept to help her get ready for the Snowball Dance! precious babies!

• you bring a whole suitcase full of clothes, a tote bag of shoes, make-up, and hair accessories. and of course, a few magazines for references.

• when Billy opens the door, he smirks as he takes in your baggage, "movin' in, princess?"

• he reaches to take the tote bag off your shoulder so you wouldn't carry the weight.

• but Max is there, nudging him out of the way, "she's here for me."

• when Billy's puppy-eyes turn to you, you can't help but sigh lightly and hand Max the wheeling suitcase. she dashes back for her room and you stand in front of Billy, hands flattened against his waist as you tease lightly, "you're gonna have to share me, you know."

• his eyes would roll lightly, "says who?"

• "behave," you chuckled, moving to help Susan get Max ready. and by the end of the night, you're waving the redhead off with Billy's arm slung around your shoulders. "see what happens when you're patient?"

• Susan and Neil dropped Max off before going on their own date, meaning you and Billy were home alone.

• you might've felt nervous but he never pressured you. instead, he seemed a little more tender as the holidays drew on and you had a sneaking suspicion he was mourning the life, and family, he knew before.

• so, what do you do? you're pulling ingredients out in his kitchen and insisting he helps you make a batch of cookies. the radio is flicked on and Christmas carols ring around the room.

• he's not good at baking but he laughs more in those two hours than he had in a full week. his eyes get soft and he might even act on the way his heart feels vulnerable, pulling you in for a slow dance around the kitchen.

• snow MIGHT even start to fall outside, marking this as your very own Snowball Dance.

• Billy kisses you that night, your lips tasting like the batter your finger had taken a dollop of. it's a searing kind of kiss, the one that feels like a long time coming - finally arriving and making your body explode with pinpricks of hormones.

• needless to say, you two were joined at the hip from that day on. Neil wasn't the biggest fan of you because you were just so fucking nice - it confused him what you saw in Billy.

• but you saw all the best parts of him, despite Neil's conditioning to showcase the worst.

• so, you're dating now, right? beautiful. doesn't mean it's perfect, okay? Billy's still a little bent outta shape that he requires time and understanding.

• he's doing his best, okay?

• he curses, like, a lot. at you, near you, in reference to you. but he’ll never resort to cheap ploys and will always comes to your defense if someone’s out of line.

• big fan of the whole ‘total dickhead to everyone except so-and-so’. cause that’s you and Billy.

• but when Billy's your boyfriend, oh, lord! get ready for the PDA 'cause he's chomping at the bit to touch you every moment.

• it shocks you to learn physical touch is his love language, what with the way Neil abuses him; you'd assumed touch might trigger him.

• but Billy explains to you that your touch could never hurt him and he relishes in the warmth your hands provide. instead of the fear Neil instilled, your touch gave comfort. warmth. hope, and peace.

• so, you run with that information. walking around the mall? your hands are conjoined or an arm is around someone's waist. at school? your hand might stray to run through his curls in the cafeteria, earning his attention. grocery store? boy's got his hands around your waist, or somewhere near your neck, while you push the cart lazily up and down the aisles.

• yes, yes, yes, Billy comes to you when anything goes wrong. he's never been like that, he doesn't understand why now, all of a sudden when he's overwhelmed, he's sneaking out and running to your house. but you're a safety net for him, and you wipe his tears; how can he not feel safe with you?

• your mom don't like him 'cause she's heard all the rumors. she even once belonged to Karen Wheeler's bookclub but left it because all the middle aged ladies were talking about her daughter's boyfriend hyper-sexually.

• she had a hard time looking Billy in the eye after that.

• it makes your mom a bit uneasy. but she respects your wishes and your want to be in a relationship. so, life carries on with a few back handed or passive aggressive comments.

• you don't like the smell of cigarettes so he won't smoke around you. you know it's a hard habit to kick and sometimes he'll ask if it's okay, but he'll definitely refrain from smoking cigarettes around you.

• he might even start to feel a little insecure and leaves an extra shirt in the trunk of his car to change into so that your nose isn't pressed right against the smoke-filled fabric.

• Billy's a big ass baby, man. look, he's a total sucker for not doing shit; throwing a movie on and literally laying on top of you. one of your hands would run through his hair as the other caressed the skin of his neck and cheek. one leg laid flat along his as the other bends to lean against his hip and keep him cocooned in your love.

• he'll often fall asleep like that. big ass baby. God, i love him.

• loves when you play with his hair. you're the only one he allows - no, i'm serious! others have tried, others really want to, but Billy never let them. until you and then it felt like your hands belonged in his silky tresses.

• don't get me started on Billy being protective. cause that's his whole thing, okay?

• shit, got me started. look, so, Billy gives a WHOLE new meaning to being protective. he's defending you against anyone - even his own father - because nobody talks shit about you.

• he's been handed a few beatings by Neil for raising his voice in defense of you.

• but he says he'd do it again and again. nobody got to say a single word he didn't like about you. girls in the locker rooms? yeah, all that gossip stopped after Billy confronted the cheer captain before Chrissy.

• few boys at a party looking at you like you're a piece of meat? oh, look! a heavy arm is slinging around your shoulders to turn you; a hand gripping you cheeks to pull you in for a bruising kiss. due to the intensity, you know he's staking his claim; sliding your tongue into his mouth as distraction.

• does the trick because he's groaning when you pull back. his hand's on your ass, telling anyone watching who you belonged to.

• he'll approach those dudes later and growl, "i catch you lookin' at my girl again, it'll be the last time you have eyes."

• is it aggressive? yes, but so is Billy, and so is his determination to protect you. he doesn't always know the best way to do that but he's figuring it out as he goes.

• you often have talks about his protectiveness but you understand he's very unsure how to go about all of this, so, you both take it in stride. if he catches your glare when he's acting up, he'll begrudgingly back down but that's okay. why? 'cause you're taking his hand and pulling you both away from whatever situation set him off.

• and he's a sweetheart when he wants to be. baby boy can't stand to see your tears, so, if you start to cry, every defense he has is dropping.

• he's been the reason for your tears a few times and he's gutted by the idea. so, you see the progress he makes in avoiding previous issues to avoid your tears.

• communication's difficult for Billy but he tries, only for you. he knows you can't read his mind and he needs to verbalize his needs; maybe doing it a little roughly but he was doing it at least. and practice makes perfect, so, it's fine.

• because your relationship is a partnership that you both have equal stake in. your job isn't to judge, but to encourage.

• but you also get him to open up communication with Max and Susan - since Neil is a lost cause.

• you've never seen Neil physically strike Billy but you've heard the yelling and you've heard the impact of a few slaps from your place in Billy's bedroom and theirs from the kitchen.

• on those days, Billy's darting back into his room and closing the door before leaning against it. his cheek's red and swelling slightly, making you stand in worry. but your movement shakes him from his thoughts and he's sniffling, "get your things, sweet girl, we're heading out."

• "where?"

• "anywhere that isn't here. i can't have you here when he's riled up like that, we gotta go."

• always protecting you.

• ayo, y’all know that medallion he wears? well guess what? he placed it around your neck and claims it’ll protect you when he can’t. he wants to see it on you. my fucking HEART.

• Billy comes to you for any academic help. he doesn't give a single fuck about school, didn't even bring a pencil his first week. but he doesn't want to flunk out and repeat so he puts in just enough effort.

• sometimes, it's not enough and he's coming to you to help proofread his essay to ensure he got at least a 75% to weigh his grade to passing.

• he gets an 88% and fucks you into the mattress.

• you're a lot more inclined to help him with homework after that.

• he's a private person. so, even if you're left in his room while he showers or goes to handle whatever Neil's yelling about, you're not able to see many personal things. everything's hidden and you're not about to snoop through his shit.

• eventually, after a particularly hard day, he's holding you in his arms, on his bed, and then reaching for a wooden box under it. inside are pictures and memorabilia, explaining he hid it so Neil couldn't weaponize it against him.

• and in front of your eyes, he takes a polaroid photo of you two and places it in the box for safekeeping. "because i treasure you, my sweet girl," he'd whisper. "don't want anyone taking this from me."

• heart melts.

• Billy dominates you. like clockwork.

but y'all ever see Game of Thrones and Khaleesi rides Khal Drogo for the first time? he comes in ready to dominate her and she's like nah, l got this and rides him to oblivion?

• think THAT but with Billy.

• he'll want you to be a plaything one day, but the next, he's mewling like a bitch in heat while you ride him. he'll even let your hand wrap around his throat when you're on top.

• he won't admit he likes it but you can tell.

• Billy likes telling you how pretty you are. you get all flustered and he adores it, finding it funny that he'll be balls deep in you, telling you all kinds of profane things he wanted to do to your pussy and you'll just eat it up - but the moment he tells you you're beautiful, you're all embarrassed like a school girl.

• spurs the nickname "pretty girl". he'll call you other pet names, too, but he'll always resort back to "pretty" or "sweet girl".

• big sucker for the troupe, 'never calling you your government name unless angry' cause that's Billy. like 100%. he won't call you your name unless angry (at you) or trying to be serious. meaning it's always a pet name rolling off his tongue.

• HA! good luck trying to leave Billy without a kiss goodbye. it does NOT matter if you literally run up to him because you forgot your chapstick in his jacket pocket and have to get back to practice - he's pulling you in for a kiss before you leave. going to work? where's his kiss, huh? oh, you thought you were getting out of this car without a kiss? that's illegal. the toll tax is now three kisses.

• the boy melts when you kiss him and your hand will hold his cheek. so simple but so intimate for him.

• and when cuddling, he's a big fan of feeling your nails against his skin and scalp. he even likes it when you trace over his face with a fingertip, leaning in to peck his lips quickly before huddling back under his chin.

• Billy often wonders what he did to deserve you - often comes up with jackshit.

• he says he loves you first but it starts as a fight. probably over something stupid, like Tommy H. hitting on you in calculus, but it'll snowball out of control because he's scared of what he's feeling, and over the very idea that someone could take you from him.

• when Billy's scared, fight or flight kicks in and his natural instinct is to fight then flee. so, he'll pick at scabs and old wounds to make them bleed so you won't try to stop him when he leaves.

• but you've been around long enough to know how he ticks.

• the conversation will be instigated by you, begging him to tell you the fucking truth, and he's shouting, "because I'm in love with you, for fuck's sake!"

• mmmmh, yeah, you get fucked on the couch that night because you can't make it to his room. thankfully, nobody was home because y'all are like frantic rabbits going at it. and when you're on top that night, you tell him, "i love you too," against his lips; that fucking hand holding against his cheek.

• he goes a little feral and will wrap his arms around your waist to hold you in position before jackhammering his hips up into yours. growling, sweating, just desperate to be as physically close to one another as possible.

• he wants to hear you say you love him all the time now. Billy needs a lot of reassurance and you've plenty to give. he'll make it a point to remind you he loves you even when in a fight - the very idea of you thinking he didn't anymore enough to make him want to tug his hair out.

• baby boy feels like his mother didn't know / hear how much he loved her, and that's why she easily left him behind. so, he'll be damned if he lets you think the same thing.

• don't try the whole words of affirmation shit because it'll literally always end in a fight. some abusive conditioning can't be changed.

• doesn't mean you let Billy forget his value. and oh, fuck, is he grateful for you. he's insecure under all that bravado and telling him you see his value is almost as good as hearing you loved him.

• in public, he's usually whispering in your ear some shitty joke. arm around your neck and shoulders. just happy to be near each other and never once giving a fuck about PDA.

• you never touch a door, you hear me? never. Billy opens all doors, even if he's pissed off.

speaking of -

• nobody angers him like you, because you're so close.

• but also, nobody can bring Billy back to reality like you can.

• he stops beating people up because he worries about your opinion of him; and he never wants to give you reason to be afraid of him.

• but when angry, he's loud. he throws shit. he'll curse and when overwhelmed, he'll cry and break down in earnest confusion.

• his anger takes over and makes his heart feel heavy; but after the initial storm cloud, he's vulnerable and stripped bare of his defenses as you're cuddling him close.

• Billy tells you he doesn't like to be so angry and he's trying to find other outlets.

• and you assure him that it's okay to feel overwhelmed and like he's gonna blow his top off. it's okay to have emotion, and it's okay to not know what to do with it.

• fuck and that smile? man, he's got you like putty in his hands when he flashes that blinding smile.

• it's cool though 'cause he's totally whipped and if you pout, he's going to get whatever you asked him for. baby boy's a sucker for your puppy dog eyes, making it your secret weapon. you don't use it often but when you do, Billy swears his heart beat stops and speeds up all at the same time.

• he really likes kissing you. if you're not in the mood to fuck, you're tired, stressed, whatever, he's fine with it as long as you're game for a little make out session. honestly? you're never not game.

• Billy's a big cuddler but never in front of people, only ever in private.

• but he's very proud to be your man so he looks for any reason to touch you. it's a sense of both protectiveness and possession; daring anyone to come and relinquish his claim so he might have reason to beat the shit outta one of these punks looking at his girl.

• or so his brain tells him. he's much more even tempered with you but every now and then, old habits flare up, and it's up to you to safely defuse the time bomb that is Billy's anger.

• Billy often doesn't feel worthy of you, so, he'll start fights. you're quick to shut it down.

• and when it's good, it's really good.

• boy will bring you flowers because it makes him feel like he's doing at least something right. and the way your lips will spread in a beaming smile has him making a mental note to pick up another bouquet sometime soon.

• picnics. i know, he doesn't seem the type, you thought so as well. but it's solitary for you both; peaceful and away from the crazy shit going on in town. besides, when he's with you, he's not looking at anyone or wondering about their opinion - his focus is 110% on you.

• which means he can read your body language like he's fluent. nervous ticks? he knows 'em. gotta pee? he can tell. feeling some pent up sexual frustration? he's not sure how it's possible but he knows what's going on, and he's taking action.

• he knows your birthday and anniversary too, so, he's always prepared. never before had he cared about ANY of that - but then you happened, and it all changed.

• ugh - changing Billy's attitude around. he's not so much of a dickhead once he starts dating you. everyone at school notices it.

• he's stupid sweet and gentle with you. he'll stand at your locker and curl your hair behind both ears as you talk; completely focused on all that you are.

• rejects other girls (harshly) because he's enamored with you. and he doesn't like people hitting on him when they know he's with you, it feels like blatant disrespect.

• forehead kisses like a motherfucker.

• Billy telling you you're the calm he needs in life.

• he's adores you, kinda thing. you can do no wrong, kinda thing.

• he pulls you into his lap a lot. again, PDA ain't no worry to him. just no cuddling... but hanging on his lap with an arm around his shoulders is A-OK.

• in fact, he takes it a few steps farther and sees where the most public place you two can have sex is.

• so far, the movie theater was it but that was complicated and not a whole lot of fun considering you were freaked out the whole time.

• but you made it up to him by taking him up the water tower and going three rounds.

• sex is a staple in any relationship, okay? but Billy's never pressured you and always lets you drive the situation. he honestly likes spending time with you, so, if you don't fuck, he doesn't care.

• only your boyfriend is stupid hot and you look for reasons to jump his bones. mmh...

• and when he's feeling randy and wanting to dominate - LORD! the way that boy makes you feel should be borderline illegal. his touches like hot rocks against your skin; kisses from pillowy lips that tasted suspiciously like your chapstick; tongue sweeping over your neck and making your mind go a little fuzzy.

• you go with him on his 18th to get his skull tattoo. you make a joke about getting a matching one but he's really turned on by the idea. you consider it for a few months.

• maybe you do it, maybe not. but you do get a tattoo and Billy's almost humping the air when he sees it.

• nope, he's not letting you paint his nails but he'll give you his opinion on colors. in fact, he'll catch a little bit of an attitude when he notices the once cherry red color of your fingernails has turned into a midnight blue, asking, "your other boyfriend like this color?"

• "baby, i can pick out my nail color."

• "just usually ask me my opinion," he'd huffed.

• you ask him before you change it now.

• matching his and her sunglasses.

• listen to me: nobody touches a fucking thing in Billy's Camaro. okay? but for you... yeah, okay, he's actually okay with you changing the radio station. and adjusting the temperature in the car. and sure, he'd probably kick anyone else out if they tried this, but he actually smiles when your feet escape your shoes to curl under you in his passenger seat.

• you're the only person he trusts to drive his car, too. doesn't happen often but twice now, he'd gotten shitfaced at a party and it was your responsibility to get you both home.

• clingy drunk Billy. might even fuck around and pout at you. Definitely just wants you to lay with him, touch him, be close to him.

• he's not used to being loved so it's a learning experience for you both. but when his head is nestled between your shoulder and neck, breathing in your scent while a hand lazily traces along your belly, there's nothing he'd rather do than this life with you.

• you're the calm, he's the fury. you're the eye, he's the storm. you're the soft and smooth, he's the rough and jagged. but i'll be damned if this relationship isn't exactly what he needs.

• you're unyielding in your love and affection, and he's silently thanking God as you lay in his arms. his eyes might even well with unshed tears as he thinks over in his head every reason he doesn't deserve you, but every reason he'll selfishly keep you.

• oof, but Billy operates on a short fuse so when he's feeling touchy, you have to tread carefully. due to how close you guys are, you're usually the first line of defense he takes his irritation out on and that results in you ignoring him for days.

• but Billy's full of remorse; knowing Neil made him feel like shit and it wasn't fair to in turn take it out on you, just so you'd feel the same. so, he's going to Max for advice.

• i know, holy shit, right? it's just, he's not used to fucking shit up and then wanting to fix it - he usually just runs. but he's tired of running, so, he asks Max to help.

• and Max loves you and thinks Billy's a different person since meeting and dating you, so, she agrees. and the Hargrove / Mayfield siblings are concocting some plan.

• turns out, he doesn't need a big plan - he just needs honesty. he'll get you your favorite flowers and crawl up the oak tree in your yard, balance himself, and knock on your window.

• '80s parents and guardians are oblivious, so, nobody hears him sneaking in and out almost every other night. call that child safety.

• but it's been 3 WHOLE days since he's seen or kissed you, and poor baby is going a little crazy. he'll present the flowers and crawl into your bed, the pair of you dedicating that moment to talk about what happened and how to avoid it in the future.

• and Billy might let a tear or two fall, asking, "why do you forgive me so easily?"

• "because i can see you're genuinely upset by this, baby," you'd sighed, pushing a few curls from his forehead. "but that doesn't mean this can continue. you've gotta do better, baby, please."

• "for you? anything."

• "do it for the both of us, hmm?"

• it's not all sunshine and rainbows when loving a complicated man, and i can't even say it'll be worth the inevitable uphill battle. but it's definitely a love for the ages and you wouldn't want anyone else.

• only guy who's ever made you squirt and he's very proud of that. it's now a personal mission of his to see how many orgasms he can coax from you in a single night. current record: seven. yeah, that boy wants to be soaked, wow. absolutely mesmerized by you when he gets this kind of physical reaction.

• he's always proud of you, too.

• if you're a cheerleader, he's picking you up in his arms and telling you how flawless your routine was (even if you know there was a few missteps).

• if you're an athlete, best believe he's at every single game just to cheer you on. he might even keep record of your stats.

• you passed that stupid hard final in your AP History class? you're literally rushing down the hall, spying Billy, and when he sees you coming with a grin and that fucking packet clutched in your hands, he's stooping low to catch you in his embrace and spin you around, "aha! my smart girl! i knew you'd do fine. you were worrying for nothin', huh? that's my girl."

• and when he calls you 'his girl', your stomach's in a flurry of butterflies no matter how often you hear it.

• you have a deal that you can't call him this in public but he doesn't all the way hate when you call him 'baby boy'.

hmmm, maybe i'm projecting...

• Billy talks about taking you to Cali with him. and you go visit his grandparents during spring break.

• when i say they adore you, i'm talking they fucking adore you to the point they're asking 18 year-old Billy when he's gonna pop the question.

• makes him choke a little out of surprise but recovers, "soon. you'll be the first to know when it happens."

• you can't help but joke, "wouldn't i know first?"

• "nah, i'd tell them before asking you," Billy smirked, nodding at his grandparents across the table.

• he's just so fucking different when in a good, loving, healthy relationship. he's toxic as fuck - we know - but he can recognize his wrongdoings and attempt to rectify them.

• he's constantly offering you compliments about anything.

• "God, you look adorable in that skirt - c'mere."

• "damn, baby, i didn't know Playboy was lookin' for new models."

• "you forreal wrote this essay? baby, this is really well done."

• "hey, superstar."

• mmh, breakfast dates are his favorite. breakfast foods are his favorite, so, you've gotten in a rhythm to cook for him on the weekend mornings.

• oof, wait! the dates! he's broke as shit, cool. but he can make anything an interesting time by just being there.

• so, you go to a lot of parties together but usually duck out with a handle of vodka to head for the quarry overlook. he likes to hang out there, laid back on the hood of his car, looking up into the vast nothingness of the universe while contemplating life.

• Billy's a deeper than we give him credit for. again, it's all hidden under a mask of indifference and dickheadedness, but it's there!

• nature hikes 'cause ain't sit else to do in this small town!

• he'll take you to concerts out of town; diners; long drives; fairs in the summer; he might've even arranged with his neighbor to let you guys in their backyard to hang out with the litter of puppies their dog just had.

• honestly, anything he can think of to make you smile, Billy's finding some way to make it happen.

• trust and believe you can handle his anger and outbursts. you don't shut down, you stand strong while rationally, logically trying to navigate his feelings. when he crosses a line, you'll end the conversation and walk away because he needs time to cool off.

• you're usually very forgiving but not always with Billy - who needs to learn there's often consequences to actions and words.

• hard lesson to learn but he's an avid student.

• Billy offering massages. his hands are Godly and you never refuse.

• might sound really out of character, but he's a fucking professional at handling your period. know how he keeps a duffel at your place? he's got one for you, too, at his. but it's period supplies so you never got a moment worrying about it.

• he'll pour some rice in a sock, tie it up, heat it for a minute or so, and lay it against your lower stomach before crawling into bed with you. sometimes, cramps might make you curl up a little in pain, but Billy's there to get you pain killers, water, snacks if you want them, but especially just to hold you.

• and he'll tell you he read some article in a magazine about how sex is supposed to help with period pains and cramps. what a horndog, you know? don't tell him, but it helps.

• Billy's an ass man. i wish i could explain it but if you get it, you get it. if you don't, that's okay. 'cause he's been known to be titty guy but it's your ass, man. Billy Boy loses rational thought when his hands are all over you.

• he gets you new earrings because you often accessorize your outfits with them. it was a fun yet subtle way to show off originality and Billy finds himself looking through a few jewelry kiosks at the mall.

• you cannot convince me otherwise that Billy doesn't get you a necklace with his name on it. i won't hear it 'cause he's definitely the type to, okay?

• his leather jacket is your favorite because it's oversized and has a musky undertone to the usual smell of his cologne. he knows this and will drop it over your shoulders without needing to ask if you're cold.

• but hey - you're a big fan of wearing your man's clothes, okay?

• he'll come pick you up for school and see you walking out in one of his shirts and have to swallow from the way his mouth salivates.

• finding empty classrooms during lunch or study hall to fuck in.

• Billy doesn't understand 'aftercare' until you. he'll stand from the bed to light a cigarette and tug his boxers on, peaking over at you and noting the way your legs trembled. he'd realize and grab his shirt to clean you up before laying right back beside you.

• "did i hurt you?"

• "no, i'm okay," you'd assure; the feeling of his bare skin on yours something close to Heaven on earth. and the way his finger tips would drag over your bare body, unsure of the patterns he's drawing; but sinking further into his embrace? yeah - God sent.

• while you don't often fight, if you piss him off, he's a loose canon. you remind yourself he's feeling defensive and like he has to lash out, trying not to take things to heart. but he's still Billy, still a dickhead, and he's still going for the jugular.

• he won't look at you for days. won't pick you up, drop you home, give your flowers, kiss you, won't even fucking acknowledge you.

• fuck, it hurts.

• but he's the one then showing up one morning outside your house as you get your shoes on to catch the bus.

• knowing he was over his initial irritation, you'll cautiously approach the car as he gets out.

• "here to insult me a bit more?"

• and his hand is running through his hair, eyes sad and downcast, ringed with red to indicate unrest and emotional turmoil.

• "i'm so fucking sorry, baby, i really am."

• here's the thing - Billy doesn't know how to apologize. he doesn't do it often to anyone, so, the words never really formed naturally on his tongue.

• but with you, he's on the verge of panicked tears as he's word vomiting to you how sorry he is. he'd never stutters over his apology to you because you're the only person he considers worthy of his genuine remorse.

• and you definitely punish him by making him hang out with you, Max, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley and the other party members.

• no, you don't get him to play D&D with them - mostly because Max warned them not even to mention it.

• but he's a good sport and will let the kids get in his car, the others in Steve's, and might take them to the pool despite being off for the day. only because he knows he has to make it up to you.

• look, he's got some flaws, okay? but Billy definitely tries his best when it involves something he's genuinely interested in. you're the first person in X number of years to warrant this kind of feeling in him, so, he's adamant on keeping this love.

• i can fix him, your honor! give me a chance!

the road back to you — billy hargrove

summary: as you find salvation from your grief in the form of a beat-up car, you may find what you’re looking for in the most unlikely of places. aka, when billy’s girlfriend falls under attack by vecna, he’ll fight through death itself to save her. pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader category: angst with happy ending content warnings: temporary canon character death (billy), language, descriptions of grieving word count: 6k a/n: hi y'all !! i'm really proud of my work on this one, it was fun to do. just a note, any blocks of italics is a memory/flashback.

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It goes like this—the moment you realize you love him is also the moment you realize you’re going to lose him.

It’s simple, really. You saw the moment El was able to reach him from wherever he was locked away, you saw the moment he stood and set his shoulders back, determined to carry out whatever plan he had come up with in the narrow seconds he had to himself. You saw the moment he stepped forward, never once looking back at you—does he know you couldn’t handle a goodbye even if he offered one? 

You saw the moment he stared down the thing that had taken away his choices for so long, and you knew he never intended to step foot outside of Starcourt again.

People often say the worst moments of your life happen in slow motion, but this time it all happened in one terrifying instant, too quick for you to do anything but watch.

“Billy!” You were sure the word wasn’t yours, that some other voice had screamed with enough force to scratch their throat to shreds. It wasn’t your feet launching you down the broken escalators, taking as many steps at a time as you could manage without tripping. The Mind Flayer was gone, but the damage it had inflicted hadn’t vanished miraculously with it. Even from across the room you could see what it left behind on the man you loved—too much blood, every limb far too still, red everywhere, why was it everywhere?

Max made it there first, dropping to the ground beside him with enough force against her knees that it makes you wince. You practically slide across the tile to reach him too, hands grabbing one of his. His are dirty, mixed with the dirt and blood of too many of your friends, from him. They’re still his though, with the same rough callouses you used to spend so much time trailing your fingers across. You cradle his hand between both of yours, pressing a kiss to the back of his fingers as though that might take the pain away. Because there wasn’t anything you could do for him now but this, you’d try to bring him as much peace as you could, knowing he deserved so much more.

“—’m sorry,” he choked out, and you wished you’d never had to see the way blood slipped from those lips with his words. Already you could feel the sight imprinting on your mind, scarring over the once cheerful memories the two of you had made in this mall.

“Billy,” Max repeated, voice barely there through the tears that threatened to silence her, “please.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured the two of them, lower lip quivering around the words. Salt and iron mixed at your own lips as tears trail down your bloodied face, and a sob threatened to tear through your already scratchy throat. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

It looked like he wanted to say more. You watched helplessly as his lips parted and closed a few times, gasps coming out instead of the words he wanted. You leaned forward, hand resting against his cheek and trying to ignore the blood that stained it. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many hopes and dreams you’d never quite shared with him in search of the right moment. There never would be a right moment now, and that thought alone was enough to constrict your heart.

But this moment wasn’t about you, it was about the fear in his blue eyes as he looked between you and Max, as his lips still struggled to voice the final words he wanted to tell each of you.

Billy needed peace, so you would give it to him in the only way you knew how. 

“We’ll be okay,” you told him, blinking away the tears in a desperate attempt to keep looking at him for as long as you could. Because up until this moment, you’d assumed you had forever, you took the ability to see Billy for granted. And now forever was reduced down to seconds, and you had too many words to say.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise,” you continued, not missing the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction at the promise. You brushed away the stray curls that fell into his face even now, trying to memorize every inch of his face before he left you. For just a moment, through all the blood and signs of battle, you could almost imagine this was any other night. The two of you were laying in your bed, whispers falling between you as you fought to hide from your family. He would grin and hold onto you, saying he didn’t care if they found the two of you like this, and you’d laugh and say he might, your family could be scary when they were protective. They don’t need to protect you from me, Sweetheart, I’d never hurt you. What a fucking lie that was.  “I promise, we’ll be okay. All because of you, you saved us.”

When his breath stuttered and his chest grew gravely still, you felt your world grow colder. It was an immediate change, a crack in the dream you’d once had for how your life would end up. Because how could you ever have your happy ending when the person you wanted to share it with was laying here, in your arms, cold?

And when the paramedics finally pulled him from your hands, you were still whispering the same words.

I love you, I love you so much.

“Max! If you make me late to work again, we’re gonna have real problems!” you shouted through the rolled-down window of his—your—car.

“No, we won’t,” Max shouted back from the front door of her mom’s trailer, messing around with slipping a tape into her Walkman at the step instead of doing it in the car. “I know better.”

“Well, this time we will have problems,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at the level of sass the girl had. Though even now, you knew she had a point. No matter what she did, no matter how many words she tossed at you when she was frustrated, you would be there for her. You’d made a promise, nearly a year ago now. “Can we go, please? Harv is forgiving, but I don’t want to test his patience.”

Though she didn’t acknowledge you, at least Max sped up a little and climbed into the passenger seat as quickly as possible. You sighed when immediately headphones were placed over the girl’s ears and her head turned to face out the side window. After everything that had happened, you’d never expected her to be the same Max she’d been before but you’d hoped that she wouldn’t be this pulled back from the world. It seemed all she did anymore was drown everyone out in the music, only slipping off those headphones to convince everyone else that she was, in fact, fine.

You’d heard it from just about everyone now, that they were worried about Max but she’d stopped talking to them. Friends, teachers, and even Joyce Byers had called you once to say that Mike had mentioned what was going on to El. They all looked to you for help, expecting you to save her from the grief that threatened to drown her. But you weren’t a lifeguard like her brother, and all you could do was desperately reach for her hand and hope she’ll hold on someday. Until then, there was nothing you could do. Just like her brother, you couldn’t save her.

So you drove her to school every morning and took a few minutes off of work in the afternoon to drive her back home on the days her mother was working late. When she needed to go somewhere else, she knew to call you no matter the time. Sometimes she did, asking you to drive her to places just on the edge of town. You’d sit in the car and wait while she sat out there, watching the stars. You never knew what she did there, but if it helped then you’d take endless sleepless nights. All you could hope for was that, in time, she might open up to someone again even if that someone wasn’t you.

“Have a good day at school, kiddo,” you told her as you approached the school, and she must’ve barely heard you through whatever she was playing because Max graced you with a smile and nod before she slipped out the car. You stayed there for only a moment, making sure she got safely inside the building before you headed off toward work.

Harv’s mechanic shop was on the edge of town, giving you a long drive to destress. Every morning was the same anymore—you’d turn on music from a band you hardly liked but you’d found the tape on the floorboard the first time you’d worked up the nerve to slide into the driver’s seat. It had been sitting on the bottom of the backseat right where you remembered hiding it, when Billy spent an entire week listening to nothing but that song. Where before you only rolled your eyes at his off-key singalong, now you drove down country roads humming the tune with tearful eyes. ‘I’ve been waiting for a girl like you to walk into my life.’ 

And though you knew the car could handle faster speeds—Billy, slow down! Are you trying to get us in a wreck?—you’d take it barely over the speed limit, taking your time with the feel of the wheel under your fingers and the sound of the engine you’d come to adore. You’d never expected to see it again, much less spend so much time inside it. You often wondered what he would have thought if he could see you driving it around town. Would he smile fondly or would he sigh, reminding you there were better ways to take care of a car as beautiful as that one. Maybe you would roll your eyes back, proclaiming that if only he were still here, he could tell you what to do with it. But he wasn’t, so all you could do was use your best judgment.

When Max came to you in July in near tears, you didn’t know what else could have gone wrong. You were ready to fight anyone who dared to hurt her while she was already down, grieving someone she didn’t know she could grieve.

“He’s getting rid of the car,” Max hiccupped out after you’d brought her into your house, sliding a cup of coffee her way you knew her mother would have scolded you for. “I shouldn’t care, but, he’s just going to junk it and—”

“Who?” you asked, “Why?”

“Neil,” Max practically spit out, and though you knew she didn’t have a good relationship with him either you’d never heard such vitriol in her voice before. “He’s leaving town, and he wants to make as much money as possible selling his son’s stuff before he does, apparently.”

“Well, I promise you that car’s not getting scrapped,” you told her, already standing up from your seat at the kitchen bar. You grabbed your keys and hurried to find your wallet, a fierceness in your gait that hadn’t been there since the Fourth.

“How do you know that?” Max asked, following you out of the house and into your car. Any other time, you might’ve felt a warmness in your heart at the knowledge that she trusted you so much she’d follow you anymore without any explanation.

You shrugged, eyes on the road as you were speeding faster than you ever normally would. There was no way you’d be too late to talk to Neil, though, that was for sure. When you got there, you’d insist on buying the car off of him, taking whatever price he demanded because, to you, it was a priceless win. There were too many memories built into that car, too many smiles and laughs. You’d do what it took to make sure Billy’s pride and joy was saved. You weren’t an expert with cars, but you’d become one if that’s what it took. “I needed a new car anyway.”

The Camaro had sat untouched in your garage for a month before you were able to even look at it without crying, much less try to drive it. But eventually, you were able to sit in the driver’s seat without blurry vision and you set to work determined to restore its beauty after the damage it sustained at Starcourt. So you slipped Billy’s necklace over the rearview mirror and set out to find a way to bring the car back to life.

That was how you’d ended up with your current job at the local mechanic’s shop. You needed guidance in fixing the thing up and Harv was more than willing to impart his knowledge to someone else. After years of focusing on only the job, you were the closest thing to family he would ever get. He’d become something of a mentor to you over time, trading repair tips for well-cooked lunches. It wasn’t too much of a surprise when the older man offered you a job at the shop, making up some excuse that he’d rather focus on the cars instead of the business side of the shop. He let you work on the cars too, in between balancing the books and taking the occasional phone call. It was hard work, but you appreciated the chance to keep your hands busy before your mind filled in the blanks with memories you wished you could forget. 

“Forget the morning coffee?” Harv asked when you finally stepped through the shop. “You’re looking more tired than usual, tell me you’ve been sleepin’.”

“I can tell you if you want,” you hedged, slipping two brown paper bags into the fridge before grabbing a hand towel to throw over your shoulder. There were some days you needed more distractions than normal, and on those, he’d usually let you do more work on the cars than in the office. 

“Havin’ more dreams?” he asked, and the non-answer was enough for Harv to get the picture. For the past several months, you’d been plagued with nightmares of that night, of the immediate days after, of having to plan a funeral because his family couldn’t be bothered, of d—

“Please, please, no!” you screamed, the blankets becoming your new prison as you fought to escape them. Your voice was hoarse as you tumbled out of bed, landing on the same hip that was already bruised from previous impacts.

It was only two weeks after the ‘tragic fire’ at Starcourt, your wounds beginning their slow fade away. The nightmares seemed to get worse when you realized, that, soon you would lose any evidence of that night, of the sauna, of Billy fighting to stay with you all. Because he’d fought, no matter what the party seemed to think of him. You hated that you mourned the loss of the deep bruise around your wrist from where he’d grabbed it at the Mind Flayer, when you’d gotten roped into trapping him in the pool sauna.

“Y/N?” 

Fuck.

Max had been sleeping in the guest room of your parents’ house since the incident, admitting that it was too hard to be in the house where Billy had been. She’d told you it was confusing, seeing the rooms where he’d yelled at her so badly she’d cried but wishing he could be there to do it again. She hated the way Neil and her mom seemed to ignore what happened, carrying on as though nothing had ever gone wrong.

And you’d promised Billy that she would be okay, so you’d told her she could stay as long as she needed while she worked through her grief. You just never expected her to see yours, too.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, pulling yourself to your feet and trying to fix your rumpled pajamas and hoping she could hear through your closed door. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t, I was awake,” Max answered, slowly opening the bedroom door. Even in the dim moonlight, you could see the tear tracks shining on her face.

“Oh, Max, come here,” you called, and the second you held out your arms she was rushing into them. Her body hit yours harshly but all you could do was hold onto her for dear life, your own tears forming as she let out her sobs into your shirt.

“I don’t want to miss him,” she cried, “he hated me, I shouldn’t miss him so much.”

“Hey, hey, listen, okay?” you tried to tell her, moving back just enough that you could see her face. “Billy did not hate you. Do you know how often he talked to me about you? About how worried he was about you sneaking out so much, about how he was trying to keep you safe from N—your stepdad.”

“I want to hate him. He was so awful to my friends, I should hate him, and I hate that I—”

“What, Max?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, and you knew there was more to it but for the time being, she was already wiping away her tears with rough hands. “It’s nothing. I don’t think I’ve slept right since the Fourth of July.”

“Me either, kiddo,” you sighed, running your hand over her hair once before stepping back fully. “How about I make us some hot cocoa and we can watch a movie, something happy.”

“Still about that Hargrove boy of yours?”

“Always,” you sighed. It would always be him, no matter how many times you fought to move on. There was no easy way to erase the memories you’d made together, all the hard work it had taken to make your relationship set up to last.

“You know, there’s no harm in finding someone else to make you happy.”

“I know that I just,” you fought to find the right words, looking up to the sky as if Billy himself might help you conjure them up. “I’ve never loved anyone like I loved him. I don’t really know if I can again.”

“Why don’t you take the day off today?”

“I’d rather be here,” you told Harv. Because what else was there to do but sit and think about where you could have been? If you were alone, then you’d start thinking of the nights you’d lay with Billy, dreaming up a future for after the summer. In those dreams, you’d pack up his car with as few items as you could manage, and the two of you would drive. There wouldn’t be a particular destination in mind, as long as it was far past the Indiana border.

Instead, you stayed in the one place you knew he hated. Where else was there to go? You told yourself you could leave Hawkins when Max was out of school, when you knew she’d be okay on her own. 

“You can’t work yourself to death either,” Harv argued, grabbing the towel off your shoulder and tossing it over his instead. “Go, find some trouble to get into. You’re off for the rest of the week.”

At first, you were furious at the idea of a week off. It turned out, though, that Harv’s generosity came at a perfect time. Because suddenly, the Upside Down wasn’t as shut away as you once thought it was. Suddenly, Billy’s sacrifice wasn’t enough to completely spare the kids from the horrors that lurked under the city.

And as it turned out, you were frighteningly close to breaking your promise to him.

Because Vecna was coming after Max, and the only thing that was keeping her from a horrifying death was that damned Walkman you’d once cursed for existing. Now, all you could do was hope that the machine kept up, that you’d never need to read the contents of the letter tucked into your back pocket.

You’d do anything to keep your promise now, even cross into the Upside Down yourself.

The decision became even easier when Steve was pulled down into the lake, through the barrier he’d been investigating. Nancy had jumped in after him, Robin following soon after. It was an obvious choice, then, for you to jump from the boat.

The Upside Down was a living nightmare. You were sure this new scene would take the place of Starcourt each time you closed your eyes, between the bats determined to kill and the vines that connected all the way back to Vecna himself. You had to agree with Eddie in all of the panic over it, even though you’d been exposed to its horrors before. 

You thought the group made it out safe, though. Everyone was climbing up the curtains to get back to the safety of Eddie’s trailer, and you were up next but instead of falling through to hit the mattress set up on the trailer floor, you hit hard tile. It was white tile though was now marred with an eerily familiar red hue. Broken glass dug into your palms as you landed, though you hardly noticed it at all.

Because the moment you recognized those neon lights surrounding each store of the building, you knew you were doomed. Because Starcourt had been torn down months ago, yet now it looked the same way it had on the worst night of your life. You knew what was going to happen, you knew what memories Vecna would use against you. There was only one that continuously haunted you, kept you awake at night wondering if there was something else you could have done.

Immediately you took off toward one of the escalators, hoping to put as much distance between you and the mirage you knew Vecna would send to you. You didn’t want to see him, not after all this time, not like this.

“You always did run from your problems.” That voice, even as harsh and cold as it was now, was enough to make your heart race. It seemed to echo through the large courtyard, filling the space and making it impossible to ignore the form Vecna had taken on just for you. “What, too scared to face me, Sweetheart?”

The venom-laced nickname was sure to break you, if the sound of familiar boots on blood-stained tile wasn’t enough. You could hear Billy saying it a thousand times, each with more care in his voice than you’d ever heard before. It was some of the few times you could see his walls really melt, if only for a second. Now that love was being used against you, hurled at you with enough hate to make you wonder if this wasn’t how Billy had intended it after all.

“This isn’t real,” you shouted back in hopes of convincing yourself, never daring to look over your shoulder as you rushed up to the upper level of the mall. It felt real though, felt like you’d never been able to escape the nightmare of that mall.

“It’s as real as the day you let me die,” Not-Billy called back, letting out a near-hysteric laugh that you’d only heard post-sauna experiment. “I haunt you, don’t I?”

“No,” you gasped around the word as though the running at made you lose all breath stored in your chest. “No, you don’t.”

“Liar!” Not-Billy laughed, his pace quickening as the mall turned loops around you in an unbeatable maze. All you had to do was outlast him and hope that Eddie had a tape that you liked enough to snap you out of this. “You traded your entire life in for some promise you could never keep, didn’t you? You kept my car, my clothes, my music. You got a job somewhere you knew I’d like.”

He was gaining ground fast. Where were they with that music? How much longer could you last like this?

“It wasn’t for you,” you tried, keeping your eyes forward as you fought to find an escape. But the mall just extended, trapping you in the horror of the day you’d lost Billy. “It was for me.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you lay alone at night, Y/N?” Not-Billy teased, not seeming in a rush to catch up to you and instead preferring to break down your resolve inch by terrifying inch. “Admit it, you know you’re nothing without me. You know it’s your fault I’m not there for Max, so you’re taking my place.”

“No,” you denied, hating the rush of guilt that crashed over your shoulders like a rogue wave. “No, that’s not it.”

“You feel guilty. You know you could’ve noticed something was wrong sooner. You should’ve known. Did you really think I would hurt you like that?” 

Billy, what are you doing? This isn’t like you. Fine, if you want to act like that then you can do it alone, we’re through.

“I didn’t know!” you screamed back, the tears hitting your eyes at the memory of what you’d deem your greatest failure. Because you hadn’t noticed, you truly thought that he might’ve simply wanted to be so cruel that day. How were you meant to know he was taken over by a mythical creature from a kids' game?

You were just kids when it all went wrong. Fuck, you were just kids.

You finally chanced a glance at him, and the sight was enough to make you trip over your feet. You hit the ground harshly, wrist bending painfully as it caught your weight. But there was Billy, standing in his blue jeans and white tank, covered in blood the same way he’d been the last time you’d laid eyes on him. This time though, instead of blue eyes flashing in recognition they burned with a hatred you’d never seen before. He hated you.

No, this was Vecna. Right? Right?

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Billy’s voice overlapped with a deeper one, a haunting voice that settled deep in your bones. “You can admit you feel responsible for my death.”

“I don’t,” you shot back, ignoring the stirring of heavy emotions you’d long-since locked away deep in your ribcage. “We did the best we could, I tried to save you, Billy, I tried everything.” 

How many times had you tried to break him free from the hold the Mind Flayer had on him? How many times did you call his name, beg for him to return to you? And even when that failed, you launched yourself into danger just to keep him safe. Nancy, what the fuck are you doing? That’s still Billy, put down the gun, put down th—

“It wasn’t enough though, was it?” Billy stepped even closer, head tilted to the side as he regarded your prone form. He bent down closer to you, a familiar rough hand reaching out to tuck under your chin. “And the worst part of it all, you let him die without ever telling him how you felt. You let him die thinking you didn’t love him.”

 You knew this was it, the moment Vecna could take you. Yet still, all you could do was stare at the face you’d never thought you could see again. You took the time to study his face, searching for any sign that this was the Billy you knew and loved. It may not have been him, but he still had his blue eyes, gorgeous freckles peppering his cheeks, and blonde hair with a stray curl still draped across his face. 

And if this was the end, at least the view was wondrous.

“You don’t have to hurt anymore, Y/N. I can make it stop,” Billy spoke in Vecna’s voice, and it was then you began to rise from the floor against your will. You didn’t fight it, not when you knew there was nothing else you could do. 

As you stared down the Not-Billy, all you could hope for was that Max wasn’t watching.

Miraculously, though, the final blow never came. Instead, that damned song played loudly through the air. It was the tape you’d found in Billy’s car, the one you remembered tossing into the backseat on a long drive a year before, just so you wouldn’t have to hear it again. The tape you played on your drive to work every day, just wanting to feel closer to the man you’d lost.

“I need to know if you feel it too, maybe I'm wrong!”

“C’mon, Billy, can’t you play anything else?”

“What’s wrong with Foreigner, Sweetheart?”

“For starters, your singing.”

You’d never been so thankful to hear that song. It was enough to release Vecna’s hold on you, dropping you to the ground. The second your feet touched tile, you were sprinting without another spare thought.

And there the scene was, right in front of you.

If you hadn’t already been under Vecna’s illusions, you’d have thought this was another one. Because you could see your own body dressed in what you’d worn to the lake, laying on the floor of the Upside Down trailer with familiar hands holding onto you. He was shaking you, hair falling into his face as his expression grew more panicked.

“It’s not working!” that voice shouted, “She’s not waking up! You said it would work, Harrington, why isn—”

“Billy!” you shouted, not understanding how you could see him there but running for him anyway. Maybe you were running toward the end, maybe this was your mind’s vision of an okay ending. Maybe there really was no escaping from Vecna, but all you could do was follow the sound of the music, follow his voice yelling for you to come back to him.

‘I’ve been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive’

“I’m here!” you shouted though you knew no one could hear it, feet moving faster than they ever had before as you chased the vision. The second your hand brushed your own, you were tossed back into your body with a gasp.

Instinctively, you fought the hold on your arms. It was Vecna, the Not-Billy, he was coming back to get you, he made you think that you’d escaped when really i—

“Y/N, hey, Y/N, calm down it’s okay,” that familiar rough voice called. It was a voice you’d thought you’d only ever hear in a dream. “You’re okay.”

Yet there he was, Billy fucking Hargrove, alive and well. He looked a mess—months of Upside Down survival coated on his face, hands, clothes. He was still wearing what he had been at Starcourt, still with the same teary eyes that he’d had at your final goodbye. Though this time there was a distinct relieved smile painting across his face, proving that this wasn’t some harsh illusion created by Vecna but rather the real Billy, your Billy.

“How are you...?” you trailed off, hand reaching up to press on his cheek. You half-expected him to disappear the moment you reached for him, but instead, his face tilted into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for only a moment. You tried not to think about how long it had been since Billy had known any kind of touch that wasn’t that of something dangerous trying to hurt him.

“I don’t know,” Billy admitted, and later you’d come to the realization that he’d fought through it all without any prior knowledge of the Upside Down, of the gates, of Vecna. All he did was try to survive, try to get back. “I woke up here after Starcourt. I thought I was alone here but Harrington and Munson started yelling and—

“I love you,” you blurted out, leaning forward to wrap him up in a hug. Your hands dug into his shirt, and clung to him like any moment he could disappear. And maybe he still could. You couldn’t quite understand how he was still here, how any of you would take down the creature coming after all of you. All you knew was that by some act of grace, you’d gotten another chance with the man you loved. And this time, you wouldn’t dare wait for the right moment to come before you told him everything.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, there was so much I wanted to say that night, I just cou—”

“I know,” he answered, “I knew then, too. I love you, Sweetheart.”

“This is sweet and all, but I suggested getting out of the freaky nightmare portal,” Robin called down to the two of you, reminding you of where you were and what you’d just gone through.

You weren’t sure you’d ever let go of him. Even as you climbed back up and out of the Upside Down, as you watched Steve bend down to help Billy out of his prison world, your hands itched to hold onto him again. It was like after so long thinking you’d lost your forever, you were scared—terrified—to let it slip through your fingers again.

“How’d you know that song would work?” you finally asked, looking at the group who all seemed to regard you with, well, it wasn’t quite fear but maybe apprehension. After all, you were just one of the latest to nearly succumb to the terrifying death that fell upon Vecna’s victims.

“I heard you, every day in my car,” Billy admitted. You’d learned today that people in the Upside Down could hear parts of the normal world if they tried, could be strangely connected to the people they needed to hear. “You’d get in and play that song. Every morning.”

You fought not to imagine what else he’d heard in his months there. Did he hear you when you’d gotten home from the scene that night, not bothering to shower away the grime before you tucked into bed and cried? Had he heard the way you’d locked your door against your parents, screaming to them that they’d never been supportive of you and him before, so why the hell should they get to help you mourn now? Had he heard you apologize every single damn day since it happened, knowing Max was suffering and not being able to reach her in the way she needed?

“I hated that song,” you whispered, looking out the wide-open front door to see the leftovers of the scramble to save you. The driver’s side door of the Camaro was tossed open, a few tapes scattered around the grass beside it. Though you hadn’t been there, you could easily imagine the scene as it unfolded. Billy and Steve, still in the Upside Down and fighting to hold onto you as you lifted in the air. Robin and Eddie, fighting as they looked over his music to find something near your taste. Someone screaming, asking Billy what your favorite song was and him growing angry because why the fuck does that matter right now?

Him knowing, even now, that of course your favorite song would be the one that reminded you of him.

“I’m glad I kept that fucking tape,” you laughed, a little hysterically as you untangled yourself from him.

“I knew you liked Foreigner,” he grinned cheekily, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get tired of that look on his face. It didn’t happen often, especially not there at the end when he’d not been in control of himself. But you’d spend the rest of your days trying to recreate that smile as much as possible.

“Only because of you.”

Tape From Hell

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Ask: @hargrove-stan: Can I request an imagine where the reader and Billy are dating and instead of billy getting possessed by the mind flayer it’s the reader? And billy is the one trying to free the reader from the mind flayer’s possession in star court mall? Reader doesn’t die!

Warnings: NSFW! swearing (like a lot), t o x i c relationship, SMUT, oral (f receiving), p in v, choking, dirty talk, a hint of degradation, billy being bat shit? Idk if it’s a part of his personality comes with the package, crying, angst, sad shit, violence! (not from Billy for a change), it’s dark I ain’t gonna lie

Word-Count: 14k (I know she’s a long one but it’s worth it)

There were a few things about Billy that had you seething with anger for a big part of your relationship. For one, Billy Hargrove was one big asshole. He could be oh so selfish and self-obsessed and sneaky as hell. Something about his way just played into one’s annoyance just right. Perhaps it was a talent, really, for him to be able to change someone’s mood from happy to sour with only a few words and calculated looks. Just like he had done to you only half an hour prior, leaving you to sit in your car, anger brooding in the back of your mind.

You had been on your way home, punching your steering wheel furiously, as you cussed him out, the mixtape he had made for you playing loudly in the background when you almost hit a tree. Deciding it was better to stop for a few moments and calm yourself, you now sat at the side of the road, head thrown back against the seat, eyes closed as you forced yourself to stand over it.

Everything had been just fine; you knew his temper and his habits of flirting. You knew and it was fine. But when you came to the Hawkins Community Pool, where you had planned to surprise him with some food and a new bikini, which you knew he would drool over, only find him grinning down at Karen Wheeler, while biting his lip and moving his hand to gallantly pull at the strap of her swimsuit – which was quite unsuitable for a woman her age, by the way. He had seen you then, after giving a wink to one of her lady friends. And he knew what he had done too, for the sly smile had frozen on his lips and his limbs seemed to stiffen dramatically. You had turned around then, walking back to your car with the two milkshakes and bag of food in hand. He had run after you, too, and you thought had he not done so, you would have been less angry now. It was nothing, he had said. They just like to look, no need to overreact. That one had gotten you and God you had reacted, for he had pulled such shit, too, back when you were both still in high school.

Keep reading

There was only the prologue and chapter one of 19 years later, right? Or am I missing something

Correct. I’m compiling the rest of the chapters in one big huge chapter

Please write final chapter of 19 years later

I’m working on an extra long chapter to make up for it <3 i don’t think there’s gonna be smut but it’s super angsty 😎 it’s at 4,000 words so far

hey all… uhm. who wants a finale to 19 years later? 💀

ANAKIN SKYWALKER ANAKIN SKYWALKER ANAKIN MOTHER FUCKING SKYWALKER

*Spoilers

Alright season 4 of stranger things was something else.. BUT let's talk about

THIS MAN

And nothing will change that

OBI-WAN KENOBI (2022)

“There is no one I trust more with my child than you.”  — OBI-WAN KENOBI (2022)