e-van-halen

[e-van-halen]

reddit is having a glitch where it puts the wrong captions over photos and it’s the only thing i care about right now

[e-van-halen]

BIG SHOT polaroid | e.m.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Summary: In which you and Eddie have a picture book where you both store your sex pics. <3 💕

Warnings: 18+ Cursing, a little Smut (p in v), Oral (fem receiving), Praise kink, body worship(?), pet names, nudes

Word count: 1k

If you pushed past the mounds of dirty laundry intertwined with disposed candy bar wrappers and a few empty shoe boxes, underneath Eddie Munson's bed lies the picture book. 

The picture book was your idea, but the pictures themselves were all Eddie's perverted idea. 

"Lemme take a picture of you, yeah?" Eddie said, taking a break from his delicious never-ending assault on your clit. Your juices dripped down his chin, some droplets stringing the tips of his hair, his lips all red and puffy covered in slick, and his eyes a little crazed and tinted in admiration. 

He kissed the supple plush of your thigh in a diagonal line; your hands stayed grazing his curls, body supine on the foam of Eddie's mattress. Eddie's lips make love to your thighs, to your tummy, from your breast to your neck, and eventually to your lips; where'd you gotten to taste yourself for the first time.

Eddie quotes Shakespeare. "Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry. Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie." He says, glossy lips forming a smile.

"Lemme get a picture of you.” He asks again. “I want to savor my pretty girl in this moment," he says with that boyish smile and those adoring chocolate eyes.

Fuck, those eyes. Even if you were thinking of saying 'no' to Eddie, you simply couldn't. It was the way Eddie's eyes gazed at you every time you made contact. It was as if he was put into a dreamlike trance.

If Eddie had been a cartoon, his eyes and pupils would have turned heart-shaped.

You agreed to the picture, but just one.

Eddie sprung up from the bed, his naked pale body sprinting around the smallish trailer.

You hear a few thuds and ruffling coming from the next room. You imagine Eddie tearing his home apart to find his Polaroid camera.

When Eddie comes back, he returns holding a big-shot Polaroid. He says it was his mother's. He and Wayne don't use it often, so there should be enough film on it.

You try to sit up as Eddie crawls onto the bed, but he lightly pushes you back down, telling you you shouldn't have to move a finger, lie back, and be his muse.

You felt an uneasiness plummet in your stomach as you felt the cold lens of Eddie's mother polaroid aimed at your cunt; it was similar to the feeling you get when your doctor has to check beneath your folds for any signs of ovarian cysts or cancers at your yearly checkups.

And though Eddie had seen your bare cunt a multitude of times (just like your doctor), this particular time made your body shutter. Just as Eddie goes to snap the picture, he notices your sudden twitchiness.

"Hey," he says, palming the plum of your cheek. He lightly pecks your lips. "You trust me, right?"

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip; of course, you trusted Eddie.

"Good." He nearly mumbles, eyes fixated on your glistening folds.

Eddie resume.

The Polaroid covers half of Eddie's face. With his right eye peeking through the eyepiece and his left eye squeezed tightly, Eddie aims the lens close to your cunt.

He places his thumb onto one of your folds and pulls back on the skin, snapping the picture in one snap. Seconds later, the blackened photo ejects from underneath the film shield.

With a few anticipated shakes from Eddie, the photo started to fade in, and you and Eddie stared at it with wide bug eyes and gaping mouths.

It wasn't the fact that Eddie could date back to this photo and jack off to it later that turned him on. Eddie was turned on because you let him do it; it turned him on even more that you trusted him to do it.

It turned you on because there was something obscure about seeing another aspect of your body, other than your face, on a Polaroid picture. In a way, you felt like you were Eddie's personal playboy bunny.

"Can I take another one?" Eddie asked in a daze, just as you went to ask him to take another, and then another, and then another, until you eventually ran out of film.

Taking pictures of you and Eddie's naked bodies would become almost like an addiction to both of you.

It became a ritualistic practice for you two before sex, grabbing the Polaroid (which now rested on Eddie's bedside table, along with packs of film) and taking turns snapping pictures of one another mid fuck.

Eddie would take the Polaroid from you and snap a picture of his cock plunging into your tight wet cunt; once he has his picture, then you'll take the Polaroid and snap a photo of your foot pressed against his pelvis, just above his happy trail. The cycle would go on and on until you were both covered in Polaroid pictures and cum.

It gets to a point where Eddie's bedside dresser, the current home for your photos, gets filled up, and you both have to resort to putting your photos in a picture book.

Making the picture book would be fun for both of you. You would sit on the trailer's living room floor, surrounded by glue, glitter, and markers; it's like a little arts and crafts project.

It'd be nostalgic for you and Eddie to return to your first photos all those months ago until now.

Eddie gets that gooey mushy feeling, getting wrapped up in the trust and intimacy of the photos--love, he thinks the feeling is called-- watching you watch a picture of yourself with a mouthful of his cock, and scrapbooking secret photos preserved for just his and your eyes only.

Eddie wants to tell you he loves you but doesn't yet; now isn't the right time. So he runs to his room, returning with his mother's big-shot Polaroid camera, and takes a snapshot of you.

[e-van-halen]

Fantastic ✨ art by @zayacv commissioned by yours truly (a scene from my 220k harringrove fic)

I've seen the light and I'm ascending to heaven. Thank you so much ❤️❤️ you're super talented and such an amazing person to work with 💖💖

Steve Harrington is a badass just like his unhinged boyfriend 🥰

[e-van-halen]

dirty laundry

billy hargrove x fem!reader

masterlist • requests open

cw: 18+ minors dni, established relationship, smut, public sex, swallowing c*m hehehe I missed billy

🧡🧡🧡🧡

it’s kind of fitting. after a weekend of partying, you had to do some laundry. so monday morning, 9 AM, you’re sitting in the laundromat beside your boyfriend. you’re hungover. billy smokes a Marlboro and the smell is making you nauseous. you’re nursing a sprite he’d bought you from the vending machine. he has a coke. you’re somewhat regretting not indulging in the breakfast beer billy offered you but the thought of the booze had made your stomach twist something wicked. the shitty speakers spill a tinny “dirty laundry” by don henley.

“this songs actually pretty badass,” billy mumbles around the butt of his smoke, tapping his scuffed motorcycle boots.

you frown, “i like don henley.”

your boyfriend laughs, it’s a loud bellow and you really wish you had that beer to dull the headache splitting your head. but you love his laugh.

“like him like you’d suck his dick or…?” he teases and you roll your eyes despite the way it pains you.

“no, not my type,” you grumble. “i like his music.”

there’s a liquor store two stores up. you keep rubbernecking out the window at it and your boyfriend picks up on it. he reaches over and squeezes your knee, “regretting not having a beer with me this morning?”

“a little,” you gripe, “the lights are too bright, your cigarette stinks and i’m so tired.”

billy leans close to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed. he looks adorable, even though he’s condescending you. “want me to go get baby a shot and a beer?”

“would you?” you ask, all wide eyed in a silent beg you know gets him.

he smirks, leans forward and bites your nose. it pulls a giggle from you which is exactly what you need. “i’ll be back,” he grabs your face and squeezes it before pulling away and heading out the door, it chimes with his steps. you lean back and watch his ass saunter down the sidewalk in his too-tight Levi’s.

once he disappears into the liquor store, you bring your attention back to the washing machine. watching as your clothes spin in circles, which doesn’t do anything positive for the spinning happening in your gut so you look away quickly. billy’s hard to keep up with but you’ve never had so much fun in your life. and he’s so sweet, really, when he wants to be. you’d kind of saved him when you brought up him moving him after only a month of hooking up. you were shocked when he jumped at the opportunity but that was before you met neil. it makes sense now. your boyfriend is free to be himself, and you love every bit of him.

he’s quick in the liquor store, returning and hopping up on the row of unused washing machines opposite the chair you’re sitting in. he opens up the black plastic back and displays a little bottle of Jack Daniels.

“come get your hair of the dog, baby,” he says in a seductive voice, all low as he wiggles his eyebrows. you extend your hand and then his brows furrow, “I got you trained better than that. C’mere, girl.”

you exhale with a frustrated sigh but obey your sexy beyond belief boyfriend. standing up and taking the few short steps to situate yourself between his thighs.

“atta girl,” he purrs, opening the shooter and pressing it to your lips, “head back, foxy.”

you lean your head back, downing the shot in a quick three gulps. he hums, all satisfied as he watches. the whiskey isn’t sitting in your tummy the best but the way billy chases forward and licks a drip off your chin quells any sickness. he follows it with a filthy kiss, tongue dragging against yours as his right hand grabs the back of your head, knitting his fingers into the roots of your hair and tugs lightly. a helpless little whine escapes from your throat but billy swallows it, smiling into the dirty kiss. once he pulls away, he smirks, eyes darker than before.

“better?”

you nod, biting your lip as you look to him. billy retrieves the shooter he bought for himself and downs it easily, like it doesn’t make his stomach curl. then he hands you a tall can of beer, opens it for you before he does. you take an eager sip to get the bitterness of the whiskey off your tongue. billy chuckles, it’s deep and rattles his chest. he nudges his nose against yours, “i know that look.”

“s’your fault,” you mumble, cheeks hot as you admit, “‘cause you kissed me like that.”

billy hums, hooks his knuckle under your chin and tilts your head up a bit. “like this?” he whispers back before pressing his lips to yours hungrily. licks into your mouth like you’re not in public and has your spine tingling, thighs warm and cunt aching. you respond by kissing him back just as desperately, putting your beer down beside him before both your hands move to grip his white t-shirt. his mouth tastes like whiskey, cigarettes and Billy. You get lost in it, moaning pathetically as you make out like a couple of high school kids.

Then the dryer buzzes, loud and jarring. You pull away, groaning softly before strutting over to the machine. You open it, grabbing a cart and wheeling it over. You tug all the clothes into basket, reaching in deep and wiggling your ass because you can feel your boyfriends eyes on it. You don’t even realize he’s jumped off the washers and made his way behind you until he’s kicking the cart away and grabbing onto your hips.

“you missed something,” he tells you, all nonchalant.

“huh?” you peer inside the massive dryer but you don’t see anything. billy’s hips meet the fat of your ass, pushing your upper half deeper into the machine.

“it’s really in there,” he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. his other hand presses on the middle of your back, bending you over completely into the dryer. “almost there, you’re so close.”

you giggle, knowing exactly what you’re asshole of a boyfriend is doing. he pulls your leggings down to your thighs, moving his hand to rub your pussy through your underwear. you moan softly, still playing his game as you pretend to reach for the clothing he says in deep in there. billy’s impatient though, tugs your underwear down with your leggings. feels the slick collecting at your hole and hums, rubbing his fingers in circles at your entrance. his fingers are so thick, you can feel him stretching your hole just from the teasing. hangover suddenly forgotten, you’re spreading your legs and silently begging for him to slide inside you.

billy teases, “aw… keep reaching, baby… you’re almost there.”

his middle and ring finger slip inside your dripping cunt, the stretch delicious and intoxicating in their own right. he drags the pads of his fingers against your walls, pushing in and pulling out. your brains already fuzzy, eyes rolling back before your lids flutter shut. he laughs, soft and sultry as he fucks you with his fingers. out in the open. anyone can walk in here or hell, walk by and see your boyfriend bending you into the industrial dryer and fingering you senseless. the rush of it only make your cunt slicker.

he scissors his fingers, stretching your hole open wider as he smoothes his other hand over the expanse of your back.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” billy exhales, his voice echoing slightly into the drum of the dryer. hits your ears something fierce. has you pushing your ass back at him. you moan out, nails dragging against the metal of the dryer as he finger fucks you open.

you don’t even hear the sound of his zipper or the shuffle of him pushing his jeans back. suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out and you feel the round, thick tip of his cock pushing at your pussy.

“fuck, billy,” you gasp, arching your back just slightly.

“atta girl,” he purrs, “so wet and desperate for my cock, yeah?”

“yeah— ah!” your response is hijacked by a moan, result of billy snapping his hips forward and completely sheathing his girthy cock in your fluttering hole.

he groans, a vibrating and sexy sound. let’s you know you feel so so so good for him. he doesn’t go slow, a hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip as he bullies his cock deep in your walls. billy always makes you feel like such a desperate slut. knows he can use and abuse your hole whenever and however. and how the fuck could you say no? the stretch is fucking unworldly. his cock is a goddamn masterpiece. crafted by the gods themselves to help please. if there ain’t nothing else to live for, billy’s cock is all you need.

once he’s inside you, you’re fucking gone. cockdrunk in a second. his hands move to knead at your ass as he pummels into you. rough and reckless. so billy. reality slips, you’re not even thinking about how the two of you are in a public place. fucking so filthy, so rough where there’s nowhere to hide. if you get caught, you get caught and you don’t fucking care. both so zoned in on getting off.

your hips slightly ache from where they bounce against the edge of the dryer but the sensation of Billy deep in your cunt dulls any pain. his cock pulsing as it drags in and out of your fluttering walls. you squeeze him, want him buried so deep and dirty.

“that’s it, slut,” he groans, voice deep as it bounces around the drum of the deeper, “taking my cock like a good girl.”

you whine back, not able to do much else. there’s no way you could form sensible thoughts. you ache to tell him how fucking good it feels but it’s useless, would fumble out of your mouth like word soup because billy fucks you stupid.

it’s a fucking joke when he moves his hand around your hip to rub at your clit. his goal is to get you to cum as quick as he can, because once those skilled fingers start strumming against your clit, your legs are shaking and your voice is uncontrollable in the moans bellowing from you.

“you gonna cum for me?” he chuckles, circles firm and quick against your clit, “so easy. such an easy slut for me, ain’t ya?”

“billy…” you cry in a plea, a whiny and pathetic sound. you’re on the edge, you can see it. each little stroke of his fingers and each drag of his cock against your tight walls threatens to toss you over it.

“ya wanna cum?” he spits, fingers working faster, “cream all over my cock, be a good slut for daddy.”

that sends you. a deep breath and sinking over the edge you go, crying out in absolute ecstasy as his cock works you overtime. drags your orgasm out with his fingers not letting up. you’re dead weight after, billy’s hands moving to your hips to hold you up as he barrels his cock faster and faster into your sensitive cunt. he pulls back rather quickly, grabbing your hair and pulling you out of the dryer.

“on your knees,” he instructs and you obey, hands on his thighs to steady you as you stick your tongue out flat. eyes wide and needy as you gaze up at your boyfriend. a curl has fallen into the center of his forehead, blue eyes dark with lust as he fingers move to grip his cock, jerking it in quick and firm strokes. “that’s it, good girl, yeah…”

he busts, spilling cum into your eager tongue. you love the taste of billy’s cum. abnormally sweet for a guy whose diet consists of booze and red meat. and when billy cums, he doesn’t close his eyes. he stares down at you, his lips part and you can see the swell of his tongue against his lower lip as he moans. you swallow, licking your lips so you don’t miss any.

he reaches for the back of your hand, scratching at the back of your scalp as he smiles warmly down at you. after a beat of lovingly looking at each other, you both get dressed. you plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before moving to transfer the load from the washer into the dryer. billy sits on the chairs and lights up another cigarette.

“you’re something else, foxy,” he grins, cheeks flushed all pretty.

[e-van-halen]

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | 18+ Only, NSFW | main menu

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds - all of steve's music

6.6k words

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay - masturbating for comfort/ease before sex, SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done, oral, fingering, steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

A/N: Once upon a time, I asked for requests, and I failed to fulfill many of them (you may have heard this story before), but this one sat in the drafts for many many months, and then I really chickened out posting it for a long time. Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels. 

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished. 

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words. 

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all.  He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too. 

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel. 

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again. 

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time. 

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together. 

His best friend was really fucking pretty. 

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours. 

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb. 

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth. 

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing. 

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned. 

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing. 

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward. 

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees. 

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin. 

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he  finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him. 

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover  the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway. 

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head. 

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour. 

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger. 

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him. 

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him. 

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore. 

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned. 

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless. 

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands. 

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be. 

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone. 

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment. 

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you. 

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started. 

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink. 

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence. 

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better. 

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. 

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it. 

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it. 

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.” 

He definitely said it out loud that time. 

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.  

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier. 

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…” 

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked. 

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry. 

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had. 

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else. 

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead. 

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him. 

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more. 

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew. 

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips. 

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open. 

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word. 

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours. 

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch. 

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to. 

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing. 

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked. 

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt. 

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either. 

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind. 

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach. 

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied. 

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking. 

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington. 

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again. 

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body. 

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?” 

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat. 

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused. 

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on. 

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick. 

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation. 

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his. 

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.  

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him. 

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more. 

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot. 

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence. 

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer. 

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of. 

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath. 

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words. 

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later. 

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you. 

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork. 

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him. 

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager. 

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours. 

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it. 

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s. 

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further. 

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced.  “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling. 

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.” 

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away. 

[e-van-halen]

[e-van-halen]

season3

hurt

[e-van-halen]

“I’m here. I’m here “

“Just a nightmare,it’s okay.I’m here”

[e-van-halen]

Billy Hargrove Ramble

he's so gorgeous

Some athletic/fit reader type of ramble with basketball player Billy hargrove

if you like this let me know I just randomly got the urge to write

my dear precious billiam hargrove

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Hawkins High doesn't have a girls basketball team. Actually, there weren't any girls' teams for the sports you enjoyed. Cheer wasn't your thing, especially with all the little snakes that writhe around in there. Volleyball sucked, the coach was a bitch and the same snakes in cheer, happened to also slither their way onto the court. And the boys' soccer team was just at too much of an advantage.

You'd thought about joining the boys' basketball team many times before since,

1. your boyfriend was on the team

2. you'd finally be able to competitively play basketball because you actually weren't awful at it

but the cons outweighed the pros in basketball. These boys.. 𝘮𝘦𝘯. were all about a foot or so taller than you and way stronger. It's not like you didn't work out. You did. In fact, you were a lot more muscular than some of the boys at the school.

The nights Neil and Susan were gone, you'd stay the night at 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘴', get an evening lowers rep in with him, and then the next morning, he'd wake you up around 9 in the morning and begin his daily upper morning reps. It took you a few minutes to get up, but by the time you were up and ready for the day, he was done with his second set. His muscles were always admirable. The girls at school who worshiped him would cream their panties at the sight.

Once he's done, you give him about 10 minutes in the shower before you begin your reps. He usually comes out when you have to get your heavier sets in just to be a spotter, but you normally do fine. Some days, He'll come out in nothing but a towel and spot you on the heavy reps, drops of water dropping onto you from his hair.

The days like these were simple, some days you'd watch a movie or two, go out to eat at the mall, laze around his or your house, have a little bit of raunchy fun, or, play some good old basketball at the park.

The park wasn't anything cool. A few swingsets here and there, a creek, a wooden playset and a surprisingly nice basketball court. You'd call up some other kids that play and just have a nice game of ball. Easy enough, until Billy's the one on the opposite team gauding you. Then it gets a little bit taunting.

#billy hargrove #stranger things 4 #stranger things #basketball #hawkins high #billy hargrove x reader #reader

[e-van-halen]

18 | chapter one

summary: although you want to escape hawkins the best you can do is ride your bike at dawn and flirt with mysterious boys that chase you with their camaros.

warnings: sexual tension?

listen to: Venus - Bananarama | Killer Queen - Queen (playlist here)

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

You caught the roar of the Camaro, even between the wind and the roar of your own bike, and you turned around slightly to see the driver of the Camaro getting closer to you. You didn’t manage to see his face well but by how he was trying to catch up to you, you decided to go a little bit faster. 

You smirked as you moved your hand and the engine roared even louder, you laughed and smirked at the thought of leaving the Camaro behind but as soon as you did it, you heard his engine as well. You turned towards the Camaro for a second, it was closer than before, and now you could see the driver’s eyes. 

They were electric blue. 

You turned around once again and increased your speed but as you did it, you realized that you were closer than you’d thought to the street that you had to take, before even thinking about it you twisted your motorcycle into a sharp right. 

The rubber of the wheels screamed against the pavement and white smoke appeared in the already foggy street as you commanded your bike to go to the right at an almost ninety-degree angle, the tail of the bike turned even a little bit more than what you expected and it dragged you until you took a one-eighty degrees turn, you were facing the other way. 

Billy cursed loudly as he tried to stop but wasn’t able to as he caught your movements. Instead, he continued to drive on the road and as he turned his head towards, you, you rapidly winked at him through your helmet before he was already driving off. 

You smirked.

You liked to drive alone in the dawn, it was one of the only moments in your life when you actually felt free and happy. You like that you couldn’t hear anything but the wind or your music if you chose to listen to your walkman, you liked to be alone, you liked to feel the adrenaline pumping through your body as you increase your speed on an empty street, you liked to feel as if your heart was going to pop because of how fast you were going. 

Clearly, in such an empty town, you liked to believe that you had more time to hit the road as fast as you would like. It was a strange feeling, the one you had felt when you’d arrived at Hawkins, before coming you felt burning tears falling from your cheeks as your stepfather actually broke the news, you had to leave Chicago and go to Hawkins. It was a nightmare if you were being honest and you tried to collect as much money as you could in order to actually pay rent and stay in Chicago with your little sister, but after commenting it to him and him screaming that things got done when he said they got done, let you know that there was no way you were going to be left behind with your sister. 

It truly had been more of a desperate measure. 

And yet, as you finally crossed the threshold that separated Hawkins from the rest of the world, you felt strangely okay. The world looked brisk and vast and unknown, and it made you shiver. Not because of the perceived coldness that you were feeling but because you felt like you were coming to something more as if you were starting something. 

And it completely and utterly terrified you. 

This was also partly why you were waking up so early and leaving to ride; you couldn’t sleep for some reason and you hoped that maybe once you returned you would be able to catch at least an hour of sleep. 

At least if you hurried but then, before pressing the accelerator, you heard a voice. 

“Enjoying your victory lap?” 

You jumped as you snapped your head towards him. If you were being honest, you would’ve lied if you didn’t feel something when your eyes met his. If you had imagined what someone would look like if the sea and sun had reincarnated in one person, it would be the guy inside of the Camaro. He had a glowing tan, the type of tan that let you know he had spent most of his life on the beach, the type of tan that just certain people would reach and you could’ve sworn that if you got a bit closer to him, you would’ve been able to feel the heat irradiating from him. Moreover, he had his hair styled in a mullet and although not many people could wear one, he indeed knew how to wear it; especially, by the way, his curls would fall on his forehead, decorating the deep deep electric blue eyes that he had, the type of eyes that could pierce you every time they fell on you. 

He wasn’t from Hawkins, you knew it right away. 

Billy smirked after you didn’t answer, instead choosing to ogle him even with the big helmet on. “You know, I was actually worried for a second?” he asked once more, as he hoped he could see more of your face if you just looked at him the right way. 

You could tell he was interested so you stop your bike and took your helmet slowly before combing your hair with your hands and answering him, he stopped the Camaro too.  

Billy got awe-struck for a second, you looked like heaven to him. He watched your legs as they were draped on the motorcycle in that tiny skirt and your y/h/c that fell on your shoulders while you smirked at him. Billy’s heart felt like it was going to explode especially by your demeanor and how confident you seem. 

“Really? It seemed that you were upset about that Camaro not having enough stamina,”

Billy got offended for a second, but then he watched you, he watched the way your mouth turned into a small side smirk and the long agonizing look that you were giving him. 

God, he thought as he licked his lips while smiling, he knew he was down bad if he didn’t meet you. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he explained, almost in a gentleman-like kinda way. It was almost because of the way he was looking at you, it wasn’t the way to look at a lady that he barely knew, he was undressing you with his eyes.  “Does your parents know you are out at this time?”

You stiffened at his remark while frowning. 

“I have no parents,” you answered nonchalantly before starting your bike again. 

“Oh,” Billy muttered, unsure of how to follow up that answer but he was resilient. “So you are lost,”

“I’m not lost either,” you grumbled as you rode your bike slowly, Billy catching up behind you. “I’m going to Oakland street,”

Billy knew the people who lived in Oakland street, they were well-off which wasn’t something that you looked like or that you acted like as Billy met you. Oakland girls were the type of girls that were on the cheerleading squad, dating the football quarterback, the type of girl who gave blowjobs and let his boyfriend eat her out and telling herself it wasn’t sex yet before going to church on Sunday. 

He knew the type because he had already slept with the type. 

“Oakland? Well,” Billy said with a scoff as he looked at you with a glimpse of mocking in his eyes. 

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied fast while you rolled your eyes. 

“I appreciate your attention but I’m okay, plus…” you said, trying to see if you actually cared about how you phrased the other words but it seemed like you didn’t have it in for you to care.  “You seem like trouble,”

“I look like trouble?”

“Yeah, those eyes, that cigarette, opened shirt…” you said as you pointed at him while Billy smiled wickedly at you. “Very player from you,” you said softly with a smirk. “And no one should see me with someone who looks like trouble,” you finished while Billy just seemed more and more interested in what you had to say. 

“Oh, I’ll keep your secret,” he answered politely. 

“How grateful I am,”

Billy laughed and shook his head.“Losing races to strange girls at dawn it’s enough gift for me,”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Right,” you muttered. 

There was a beat of silence before you looked at each other again and Billy stared at you from your toes to your eyes. 

“Just so you know, you look like trouble too,” Billy added and you laughed. 

He liked your laugh. 

“You know what? I might be,” you answered with a shrug.

“I like that,” Billy replied before he was opening the door to the Camaro and left it like that in the middle of the street as the sun rose. You caught your breath as he stood in front of you, closer than you expected it and close enough for you to smell him. 

He smelled like the sea. 

“So, since you know, you won the race,” he muttered as you snap your thoughts and looked up at him. 

“Aha,” 

“You should receive a prize,” he added with the most mischievous gaze you believe someone had ever given you, his eyes gleaming with something that you knew already but you liked to play along with. 

“And what would that be?” you asked while you gazed at him through your lashes. 

“A kiss,” he finally muttered before he gave another step towards you and he began to lean in. 

If you were just passing by, you might’ve even considered the chance but this was going to be your place for at least a year before you could escape and you couldn’t mess it up.

You couldn’t mess up the chance you had. 

And so you place a hand on Billy’s chest and you chuckled softly. 

“You know what?” you asked him, raising yourself a bit, just close enough for you to feel his breath as you looked at him straight into those electric blue eyes “You should really really get lost,”

It was the last thing you said before you were putting on your helmet and driving away.

***

author's note: I'm flabergasted by all the support I've received over this new series. I really can't believe it and although I know these chapters are a bit short like I CAN'T WAIT to let you see what will come next it's going to be a wild ride. THANK YOU SO MUCH and as always lmk what you think of the chapter!!!

***

taglist: @happypopcornprincess @hannahnikohl @thescarlettvvitch @nymphadora000 @phishyie @amethystx3 @jaziscool @vixionix @gloryekaterina @alicetweven @frogtits1 @meg11 @pillowjj @fan1237 @bucky-daddy-barnes @starloriha

please let me know if there's a problem with the tags or if I forgot someone.

***

feedback is always welcomed!!

buy me a coffee or help me with my laptop? thank youu

[e-van-halen]

Good Girl

warnings: language, suggestive content (it’s Billy), mentions of a lease, several uses of “good girl” in the 👀👀 sense, underage drinking, alcohol mentions. sexy Billy is sexy. She/her pronouns, no y/n. definitely bratty behavior.

length: 4.8k words

rating: t

it’s summertime in Hawkins, and a rainy day at the pool means more than just sitting indoors waiting for the rain to stop, especially when Billy Hargrove and some whiskey are involved.

Hawkins in the summer is sweltering. It always seems like there’s no end in sight to the endless heat and sun. Everyone hated this time of year, but the most tolerable place to ride out the summer is one place, and one place only.

The Hawkins pool.

It’s a small town. There’s only so many suburbs a small town can fit, so the only public pool is always a hot spot in the summer. The lifeguard jobs are coveted positions. If you’re a lifeguard, you control the doorway of whether somebody has a great summer, or whether some loser ends up sitting inside sweating for another season. In essence, you’re a god. You’re Saint Peter. You can either admit some lanky teenager into this haven of wet, glistening bodies, where you can end up with a girlfriend by the end of the summer, or you can tell them to fuck straight off.

So, to nobody’s surprise, Billy Hargrove, the self-proclaimed God of Hawkins High, ended up being a lifeguard.

“You’re late,” he grumbled.

A girl came running up through the clubhouse doors. She wasn’t even that late. It was less than ten minutes, if her watch served her correctly.

“I got held up at work. Not all of us work at this place 24/7,” she responded, though not unkindly.

She’d been a lifeguard at the pool for the past three years. From the second she’d been able to work, it was her favorite job. Now, there was this sturdy, shining god trying to get her written up for being late. Well, two could play at that game.

He looked up at her from his cigarette. “Look, if you’re not gonna take this seriously, you can just leave.”

She rolled her eyes. The tough boy act, from the one who’d only been working here for officially two weeks.

“I am taking this seriously. Did you check the levels?” she asked.

She clocked in and glanced out the pool house window. Dark storm clouds were gathering in the distance. Thunder rumbled. No response from the golden god himself. Just another slow drag from his cigarette.

“Forget it,” she said, then jerked a finger to the growing storm clouds. “You know what that means.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He rose and slammed the door open. A piercing whistle rang through the air.

“Thunder! Everybody out!”

She watched as he took pride in kicking people out of the pool, especially the younger teenagers. She couldn’t resist coming up behind him to continue their argument.

“Hey, remind me who took over your three shifts last weekend when you were too drunk to move?”

He glanced at her, his eyes flashing behind his dark sunglasses.

“That’s different. That was seven in the morning. There’s no reason for you to be late when you knew you had a shift this afternoon, dumbass.”

She rolled her eyes, a tiny smile growing on her face. It was a great party. She was there. She remembered watching his eyes glow as he played beer pong and chugged as much alcohol as he could physically stand. The air was hazy and warm with bodies dancing and smoking and drinking. She could still see the way he glanced across the room, the way their eyes connected. He nodded once at her, almost in respect.

“Take my shift tomorrow?” he had shouted over the music.

“God, can’t you ask Heather?” she had replied.

“She’s not standing here in front of me, now is she?”

And that’s how she had ended up covering three consecutive shifts for him. He had smiled at her, and not in the flirty way he gave the moms and other girls at the pool. A real, grateful smile. It was there for a brief second, then gone in a flash as he went back for another round of beer pong. And she was left there, standing in the doorway of some friend-of-a-friend’s house, wondering how she was going to get up for a seven a.m. shift after this.

While most of the families had gotten bored, some middle-school delinquent hadn’t gotten the message and decided to flick Billy off. Life was unfair. Billy crossed the concrete in five easy steps, yanking the kid up by his soaking swim shirt.

“HEY!” she blew the whistle at him.

His head immediately whipped up, the kid’s toes barely grazing the ground.

“He flicked me off!”

If this was any other person, it would have seemed childish. But since it was Billy, he made it sound like a legitimate offense, and you better believe it was too.

“Jesus, let’s not start the afternoon off like this. Get out of here,” she said to the kid.

Billy glared at the kid once more, then released his grip, and the boy, maybe a little bit wiser now, scurried out through the gate and as far away from the pool as his skinny legs could carry him.

“I hate this place,” Billy growled.

Something had clearly ticked him off. Something deeper than just a kid with a death wish. But, if there was anyone with a sense of self-preservation, it wasn’t her.

“Why don’t you quit?”

It was a genuine question. She knew he enjoyed the power and privilege, but the hot sun, annoying kids, and the absolute garbage pay? What could possibly make him stay?

He shrugged. “Quitting’s a loser’s game, right? And I ain’t no loser.” He stubbed out the last of his dying cigarette and seemed to size her up. “Maybe you should quit. I mean, you’re here at this dead end job, and all you’ve got to show for it is a whistle and a wicked sunburn.”

“Hey, it faded!” she insisted. Sunscreen was for chumps. Sunscreen, in actuality, was for people who remembered to put it on majority of the time. And, the majority of the time, she did not. “You’re one of the lifeguards at this ‘dead end job’, so you tell me.”

“I need the money. I’ve gotta get out of this shithole,” he replied.

That’s what everyone said. And then they all ended up staying, and getting married, then having kids who couldn’t wait to get out of the same shithole their parents had settled down in. Same story, generation in, generation out.

She heard a chair clatter, the wind having knocked it over. The storm clouds were getting closer, and the thunder was becoming more of a frequent occurrence. The rumbling was slowly becoming a more pronounced growl.

“We better put the umbrellas down. I don’t think we’re having anybody else today.”

“Yeah, you gonna help with that?” he asked. There was a hint of teasing in his voice, but he remained by the gate.

She didn’t respond, but instead began putting the chairs away and the umbrellas down. He needed to feel like it was his choice to work, but she wasn’t going to wait until it was pouring to get the chores done. The wind was picking up, and she didn’t want to end up blowing away with the chairs. After a moment or two of watching, he sighed and started tying up the umbrellas.

“Think it’s gonna be a big one?” he asked, after a second’s hesitation.

She grunted, stacking one of the heavy lounges on top of another. She looked at the sky, truly considering.

“Yeah, I’d say so. It always gets weird this time of year.”

Let’s be real. Hawkins was always weird. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

A flash of bright light shot across the sky, and a clap of thunder made them both flinch. After taking the last of the chairs from her, he placed his hands on his hips.

“You staying here? It’s probably gonna storm all night.”

She shrugged, leading the way back to the pool house. “Might as well. If it stops, then I’ve got the entire pool to myself.”

He nodded. He couldn’t necessarily just leave her there. He owed her one, although he would be remiss to admit it. He just didn’t need the write up. Not to mention, something about her being there alone made him feel bad. Not the good kind of bad, but the uncomfortable, anxious kind of bad. He shook away the thought. He didn’t need anything like that distracting him.

The rain finally began, and when it started, it poured. Nothing like a good Hawkins storm. Going from sunny skies to tornado warnings in under one hour, and that wasn’t even the latest record. It splattered against the window. Any chance of being able to swim in the next hour looked slim to none.

“Well, what are we supposed to do now? Just sit here and wait for the storm to pass?” he asked grumpily. “I hate doing nothing.”

She hid a smile. Billy Hargrove, pouting over some rain? Inconceivable.

She flashed a book from her bag at him and cracked it open. At least one of them came prepared. He huffed and stood, opening one of the locked cupboards on the wall. After digging for a few seconds, he pulled out a medium-sized black flask. She looked up from the book, then let it fall shut.

“You didn’t,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He flashed one of those winning Billy Hargrove smiles. “In case of a rainy day.”

He chuckled at his own joke, and she rolled her eyes. He was unbelievable, and yet she couldn’t expect any different from him. After taking a swig, he held out the flask to her in offering. She eyed him warily.

“What?” he questioned. “Don’t like whiskey?”

“You can’t spend one day sober?”

He smirked. “Just say you’re chicken if you’re too scared of a little excitement.”

Not that she was one to turn down a challenge. She narrowed her eyes, then swiped the flask and took a deep drink. The whiskey scorched her throat and burned in her chest, but it was a pleasant burning. It made her energetic and less inclined to stay quiet. She knew how stupid he got drunk, and she just prayed the whole building wouldn’t burn down because of them.

It could have been the drink, but she could have sworn she could see an energetic glitter in his eyes as he took his sunglasses off. Whatever that meant, it’s not like she cared. It’s not like she felt like she was drinking that whiskey every time she looked at him. Scorching and warm and heart racing. It’s not like she cared.

“Oh, so the good girl has a naughty side,” he said with a smirk.

She felt a shiver travel down her spine. It’s just the alcohol. We aren’t doing this now.

“You want to get out of here. So, where would you go?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the growing warmth in her cheeks.

He seemed to pause, dropping the flask from his lips. Those damn perfect lips. He seemed to hesitate, then shrugged.

“California,” he said simply. He paused. “I grew up there.”

Why was he telling her this? She didn’t ask, idiot. She didn’t give a shit about him.

She nodded. “Yeah? So you’d wanna go back?”

His eyes met hers. In a way, he was surprised she was interested. Genuinely interested, not just trying to fill the silence or get inside his pants. Her eyes were soft, curious. And that’s what made him respond.

“Yeah,” he said softly. The arrogant Billy went dormant. Something about her made him feel more genuine. Like he didn’t need to put on a front. “My mom and I lived there before I moved here. We lived near the beach. She taught me how to surf.”

She smiled, and Billy felt something twitch inside his chest. That couldn’t be good. Hopefully it was a heart attack.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf. Would you recommend going to California for it?”

He offered her the flask again. They were like two drinking buddies, and even though they were just a boy and a girl alone, it reminded him less of a date and more of what it was like to have friends. Friends who really care, who weren’t just around for the hype or to watch him fall.

“Yeah, California was great. Way more to do there than just sit around and drink all weekend.”

She snorted.

“I dare you to go the rest of the night sober,” she challenged, the flask in her hand.

He wrinkled his nose. Why would he do that?

“Hell no! There’s nothing to do around here!”

“You don’t drink, and I’ll prove that there’s something to do around here,” she said, smiling mischievously.

Somehow, he couldn’t say no. Billy reached for the flask, and she pulled it out of his reach.

“That’s mine,” he insisted, trying to sound stern and hold back a laugh.

Something about her made him feel like a kid. Like they were playing a game, and it was raining outside. Like their parents weren’t home, and they were fighting over the last juice box. She made him feel… light.

She stood and moved out of his reach. The pool house was pretty large in comparison to most. Steam room, storage room, lounge, separate bathrooms and showers, and a built in kitchen for the staff. A glimmer of teasing made itself known in her eyes. She could make a run for it if she wanted.

“Oh, you mean this?” she held up the flask teasingly.

“Yes, that. That’s mine.” He reached for it again, only to have her dance out of his reach. “So, that’s how you wanna play? Grow up.”

“I am a grown up,” she simpered. She was definitely taunting him now. She raised the flask to her lips. How could he have never noticed how perfect and pink her lips were? “Sure would be a shame if someone drank all of this. This is the good stuff, isn’t it? If you were ‘saving it for a rainy day’, and all.”

He found himself smiling. Why was he smiling?

“That was supposed to last me the whole month, you drink that and I’ll- I’ll-”

Damn. What would he do?

Not that he had a long time to think about it, before she took the flask and ran into one of the hallways.

“Hey!” he called after her, scrambling to stand and chase her.

What could he say? He liked a good chase, and she seemed all too happy to provide. The rain outside was no longer a concern, and the thunder was drums to them, encouraging them in their play. He found himself smiling, uninhibited beaming. It was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol. He heard the door to the outside slam shut, and he jumped the open counter window to meet her halfway on the concrete. She saw him and skidded to a stop, then caught herself and bolted the opposite direction.

She was smaller than him, but he was faster. That’s why she had to play dirty. She dove behind one of the tables, between the pool and the fence. He crouched down, his smile becoming a little more wicked and competitive now.

“You brought us out in the rain for this?” he asked, low and ready to pounce.

She was observing, watching him for any weaknesses. There were none. Dammit.

“You could just let me have it, you know!” she retorted.

“And let you have my good shit? I’m not letting you off that easy.”

“You owe it to me, Hargrove! I deserve a night off! Not all of us like cheap beer like you do.”

His eyes glistened with a mixture of hunger and amusement. “I can do this all night. You have to go home eventually.”

He smiled wickedly. His heart was racing, and he could feel a warm buzz in his veins. She glanced between him and the pool. She had one shot. The rain was not helping their visibility. It made her hair wet and stick to her face, and she could feel it curling against her neck. His hair was the same, and she knew he knew how good he looked.

She skittered around the table and towards the pool, trying to cut the corner, when she felt his hand close around her free arm. She squeaked in surprise, and he whipped her around the face him.

“Hand it over,” he said lowly.

She hesitated. Maybe it was the alcohol making her bold. Maybe it was the chill of the rain. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, like he couldn’t get enough. Like he was a starving man, and she was a full course meal - plus dessert.

“Make me,” she whispered.

The flask was now being held over the pool. Deep end be damned, she would end up in the water before she gave up this fight.

His eyes glittered with the challenge. His grip tightened around her arm as he backed her closer and closer toward the water. Close enough to the point that, if she stepped back, it would be straight into the deep end.

The scent of him was intoxicating. Tanning oil and sweat and some sort of cologne. Who wore cologne to the pool? Only Billy. Her throat bobbed as her eyes darted between his eyes and his lips. Which was the greater evil?

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asked quietly. “I’ll take it from you, one way or another.”

She found herself clinging back to him, one arm still extended over the pool. He loomed over her, their faces just mere inches away. He was Billy the Flirt now. He knew his strengths, and this was definitely one of them. It didn’t stop him from thinking about how much he enjoyed having her this close, or how much he enjoyed feeling her soft skin, cold and wet from the rain.

“Unless you give it to me now,” he murmured.

God, his voice was like a cat purring. But this was a game, and she’d be damned if she gave up before an arrogant, idiotic, handsome, asshole like him. His eyes were glued to her lips. He could practically taste the whiskey on her lips. Whiskey, her damn cherry chapstick, her damn smile that he found so adorable and tantalizing all at once. What was he saying again?

“Make me,” she repeated.

Oh, so she wanted to play that game.

“Make you?” he repeated. “Why don’t you make me make you?”

There was a flicker of fear in her eyes. A kind of fear that only came with arousal. She shivered. It was just because of the rain, just the rain. Definitely not the way his hand had found its way to her waist, and the way she could feel him pressing against her.

“Go on,” he said, voice low and sensual. “Make me take it from you. Make me.”

She couldn’t take it. She hadn’t seen it going like this, getting this electric. She smiled sheepishly, deciding to take a stab at backtracking.

“What if we share? Call it a truce?” she squeaked.

He chuckled darkly. She wasn’t getting out that easily.

“A truce?” he asked innocently. “You want a truce?”

She nodded. Yeah, a truce. That’s what she wanted.

“I’ll give you a truce,” he finally decided. “You don’t run away, and I won’t take the bottle from you.”

“And you won’t push me in?” she asked, still clinging to him.

He was enjoying this way too much.

“I promise,” he vowed, the very picture of chivalry. How could he ever push her in? He had saved her from falling in when she’d gotten drunk.

“One thing,” he smiled. “You drink.”

Her cheeks were on fire. Every instinct she had said not to drink. He must have been testing her. To see if she would drink. To see if she would be obedient.

She brought the flask up to her lips, and she felt the intensity of his stare. The whiskey went down easily, too easily. Maybe she was further gone than she thought. Did he lean closer to her? Had his face been that close before? The tension between them crackled like the thunder.

“Now,” he whispered. “Make me take it from you.”

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.

She raised the flask to his lips. Every part of her body was on fire. She raised her free hand to grip the hair on the back of his neck, pressing every available inch to his body. They were flush together. Damn, damn, dammit. Bad idea, she felt something press against her thigh. Very bad idea, very bad idea indeed. Then why did it feel so good?

“Drink,” she said, trying to force the words out. It was supposed to be a command, but it came out more like a question.

“Drink?” he repeated, like it wasn’t his idea in the first place.

His eyes pierced through her, the blue flames in his eyes dancing as he drank deeply from the bottle. This was getting to him. It was getting to her, but he felt himself breaking first. His eyes rolled back a little as he swallowed, and she gulped reflexively in response.

He opened his eyes, their faces centimeters apart now.

“Are… are you going to let me go now?” she asked timidly.

“That depends,” he breathed. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest. “Are you going to run again?”

She fought back a tiny smile. It was just too tempting to tease him, to play with him.

“I promised I wouldn’t,” she admitted. “But would you chase me if I did?”

He arched an eyebrow, giving her a sly look. Like they shared a secret. Maybe she should make a run for it. She didn’t know it, but he would absolutely chase her. He would chase her, find her, and never let her go. He would make sure she wouldn’t be running anywhere any time soon.

“That depends,” he repeated. “What would I get if I did catch you?”

Her cheeks turned bright red. The contrast of her eyes and the red of her cheeks and the rain dripping from her eyelashes had his mind in a whirl.

“Fine,” she relented. “I said I wouldn’t run, so I won't. For today.”

His eyes were bright with excitement. Her heart was hammering against his chest.

“Careful, you’re treading on thin ice,” he warned.

There was a warning behind his words, but he still sounded playful and teasing. He looked down at her, his grin widening with a kind of feral glee.

“One wrong move,” he murmured, and he tapped her spine. “And I’ll get out the leash.”

That was too much. Was it? How would she respond? Did it matter? Of course it mattered, he wanted this girl to like him. He needed this girl to like him like he never needed a girl before.

“Billy!” she squeaked, her hand clapped over her mouth in surprise.

Good one, Hargrove.

“One wrong move,” he shrugged, like it was easy to behave. He would know.

“You TEASE!” she smacked his arm.

“Good girl,” he purred.

Damn, that one hit.

He was enjoying himself way too much, and she was letting him. Oh God. She was trouble. She was going to be in trouble.

“Why- why don’t we go swim now? Cool down a little?” she insisted, trying to free herself from his grasp.

The rain should have cooled them down, but even though it had eased up to a light drizzle, she still felt too hot. I wonder why, she thought grumpily. His grin only intensified. They weren’t done with this little game of theirs. She had started something, and she was going to finish it, whether he had to make her or not.

“Do you really want me to respond to that?” he teased. “Or are we going to be honest with ourselves?”

She scrunched up her face, trying to be grumpy. He was teasing her! He didn’t deserve her smiles.

Then why couldn’t she hold back her smile around him?

Time was going too slow. The rain was falling in slow motion. She couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like their minds and bodies were in sync. She looked him in his eyes. She knew he knew what she wanted, and she knew that he wanted her to give in first. She was pleading with him with her eyes. He saw it, and he responded by breathing lightly on her lips. Decision time. Who breaks first?

“Billy,” she whispered softly.

How could she do that to him? Turn on those Bambi eyes and make him want to throw her down on his bed and be gentle with her? Who did she think she was?

She was his, and she needed to know it.

So what if he broke first? He’d win the girl.

The idea was too much to handle.

Several things happened in quick succession.

First, the rain tapered off.

Second, Billy’s arm tightened as he pulled her away from the deep end of the pool and further into his arms, planting one hand firmly on her waist and the other buried within her hair.

Third, and most importantly, he kissed her.

He may have lost their stand-off to see who could outlast the other, who could resist the temptation long enough. But he was learning fast that, when it came to her, he couldn’t resist for very long at all.

He couldn’t remember much of what he said when he kissed her. He’d blame it on the alcohol, or blame it on how smooth and warm her lips were, how they fit perfectly against his, how easily her mouth opened to his. Yeah, definitely one of those. He would remember how stupid he was tomorrow, but for now, he could feel her chest swelling as she gasped for breath, then crashed her lips against his again, just like the ocean waves. They were the ocean and the shore, pulling and pushing, rising and falling, eroding away at one another slowly and purposefully.

She broke away the kiss first, her lips kiss-swollen and her eyes widening. He would have gone back for another - self-control be damned - but she put a hand over his mouth, a giddy laugh leaving her mouth.

“You- you’re drunk!” she laughed.

He yanked away her hand and pressed it to his chest. Drunk. Funny time to remember that.

“And that is important, why?” he questioned.

Were the words coming out slurred? No, he could still see straight, he could definitely still taste her chapstick. Wonder how the rest of her tastes-

“No, no,” she laughed, pushing against him as he leaned in again. “You need to cool down.”

He pouted and batted her hands away from his face, trying to block his kisses.

“No,” he insisted, his feral smile becoming more playful and joking. “Quit fighting me off, you baby! You’re like a child! Is that what you are? A little girl?”

She smacked his shoulder, pushing and trying to turn her face away.

“I am not!” she whined.

“Oh,” he grinned. “I like this. So, what? You gonna pout whenever I make the decisions?”

“Let go, you tease!” she cried, laughing again.

He picked her up easily, throwing her over his shoulder and toting her back to the main building.

“What, you gonna throw a tantrum? Be my good girl, got it?” his voice left no option for refusal, although his eyes shown with a cautious adoration.

He set her down, and before she could run away again, he trapped her between him and the wall.

“Your girl,” she repeated, sizing him up. “Who says?”

“I do,” he said confidently.

And somehow, he found it fit. He liked it. He liked the idea of her being his girl. It had a nice little ring to it.

“So,” he said sweetly, “what are you gonna do about it, sugar?”

She wrinkled her nose. God, she was so cute when she did that. Look at him, fawning over a girl. Who was he?

“I’m not sugar, I’m not sweet!” she insists.

He laughs. “Oh, yeah, you could never be sweet. You’re the worst, I mean, I can’t stand you.”

“Your girl,” she repeats. She wants an answer, an explanation. “Then what does that make you to me?”

He knew this was coming. Yet, it’s not like it had been with other girls. He wanted this one to belong to him, and he wanted to belong wholly to somebody. Just once. Just this once, he’d give it a shot.

“I’m your man,” he replies simply, and it’s the easiest answer he’s ever given. “You’re my girl, aren’t you? That means I’m your man.”

And he liked the way it sounded. He wanted her to say it. He’d be her guy, he’d take her to the movies and make out in the back row, he’d buy her flowers on her birthday, he’d buy her dinner and be polite to her parents - right before he drives her off to Lover’s Peak and blows her back out. He’d be there when she was down and make fun of anyone, anything, if only to make her smile again. Hell, he’d be a whole ass clown, if it meant she thought he was worth her time.

Shit.

This was gonna be a problem.

Billy Hargrove, king of Hawkins, god of the pool, sex and speed and danger incarnate, might have just fallen in love.

[e-van-halen]

I just watched brokeback mountain

spoiler but it's 15 years late

my heart is absolutely shattered.

this movie almost brought out my ugly cry and I don't think I've cried from a movie before.

I knew it was coming as soon as ennis mentioned what happened when he was 9

absolutely destoryed why can't gay cowboy just be happy gay cowboy and not have "a broken jaw and broken nose from a tire cap". I WANT MY HAPPY GAY COWBOY ENDING I AM NOT STANDING FOR THIS 😭

#brokeback mountain #heath ledger #ennis del mar #jack twist #gay cowboy #i want my happy ending #jake gyllenhaal #jake gylenhall #western romance #western

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thinking of eddie begging you to let him try his new magic trick out on you. he’s been practicing it for weeks and he finally has perfected it. only he accidentally grabs his set of real handcuffs instead of the trick ones…

i took the sub eddie route because i love my whiny pathetic boy

based off of this post- this is for @strangerstilinski specifically cause <333

THIS IS 18+ MINORS DNI

“baby c’mon lemme show you! i’ve been practicing on it i can get myself outta these handcuffs in under 30 seconds” your boy whines as he follows you around his trailer, trick handcuffs in hand, clinking his other every step.

you groan, it’s been days he’s been pressuring you to look at his tricks. with an eye roll you mutter out a “fine” as you sit yourself down at the table.

he likes doing his tricks on the floor, and so he’s kneeled on the carpeted ground, hands behind his back as the clicks the handcuffs around his wrists.

you can’t help but notice the sight in front of you. he’s pretty as his tongue sticks out, working the handcuffs to try to get out of his confinements. biceps bulging through the short sleeves of his shirt, cheeks turning hot as panic stains his eyes.

“fuck- shit” he huffs, at the realization that his trick has gone wrong.

“what’s wrong, Houdini?” you tease, blood running hot at his reddened face.

“baby- i uhhh- do you remember where i put the keys to the handcuffs? the other ones” he huffs “i- shit- i got them confused, please lemme out” he whines, wiggling on his knees.

“stop struggling, ed. it’s gonna hurt your wrists” voice laced in sugar as you reach for him, gather his hair to the back of his head and pull.

A loud whine escapes the boy’s throat, low and rumbled in the depth of his chest as he feels himself stir in the tightness of his pants.

“y’know what? i think i like you like this, ed. so, so pretty” you croon, hooking the curve of your ankle on his shoulder, behind his neck. brown eyes, as a doe looking up at you, shadowed by the bangs on his beaded forehead.

you let your foot guide him, closer and closer to your parted legs. his mouth gaped in silent stupor, his breath quietly hitching in his own throat with the desire to smell you, feel you, taste you.

the bite of the metal cuffs isn’t bothering him anymore, as he looks at the wet patch on your panties from under your skirt. lips parted and swollen and awaiting, as he inhales, then exhales, a stirring deep in his tummy.

it pushes and pulls, the desire to let himself be used, his bewildered face coming closer and closer, smelling you so strongly it’s making him confused.

a strangled plea falls out of his mouth, throwing all caution out of the window as he finally presses his nose to your clothed mound and inhales. all he ever needed is right in front of him.

“why don’t you do a magic trick on me, baby?”

and he looks at you like you just hung the moon for him. big brown eyes, sparkling in the dim fluorescents of his trailer, your smell intoxicating him as he hums and nods.

"please baby let me- let me taste you, i'll make you feel so good" he exhales, glassy eyes as he tries to teeth and lip his way past your panties to no avail. without his hands to aid him, his tongue of gold is nothing but a useless muscle.

he does whatever he can to feel you, though, sucking purple bruises across the flushed skin of your thighs, quivering with the anticipation that you don't let yourself fall victim to just yet, slightly bucking your hips into the air, looking for friction in the thin fabric of your cotton panties rather than the plush softness of his lips.

you play the waiting game for as long as you can, until you dare the boy to take your panties off with his teeth. clumsily he does, maybe tearing the cotton from the lacy lining as he spits them out on the carpet floor and dives himself on you like a man starved.

eyes rolled to the back of his head as he revels in the taste of you, so cruelly denied to him as soft moans and whimpers escape him, rumbling against you with such overwhelming power that you can't help but grind yourself on him, coating eddie's chin, cheeks and nose with slick.

wondering where the hell he got so lucky to get a woman so angelic and yet so devil like that will fuck him after a failed attempt at a magic trick. what he doesn't know is that his magic tricks only turn you on further.

[e-van-halen]

“don’t be scared sweetheart, i promise we don’t bite… hard.”

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . vampire steddie x human reader… coming soon.

[e-van-halen]

✨ This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! ✨ @harringrove-relay-race

Screwdriver

S: I'm not looking to fuck right now, but my bathroom sink is currently flooding the bathroom

S: I know it's kind of random, but can I borrow a flathead screwdriver by any chance?

S: I don't really know my neighbours and you're the closest person to me on Grindr

S: 😅

Billy stared at the four messages he'd received, not quite knowing what to think about them. They were from Steve, the guy he'd been messaging on Grindr for a while here and there.

It had been a kind of a mistake for Billy to even see Steve's profile. Steve had said he had been meaning to delete the whole profile since all he'd gotten through it was heartache and pain, but then had decided against it. Billy had the same kind of experience, so he'd suggested that they could just talk. And Steve had agreed.

They really didn’t know that much about each other, they talked about just casual stuff; work, TV shows and such. But Billy didn’t have anything special to do that evening, so why not. Steve seemed like a decent guy and Billy had an extensive selection of tools at home because of the Camaro he’d kept as a second car since it always needed something to be fixed.

B: Yeah why not.

B: Send me your address and I’ll bring it. BTW you should turn off the main water in case you haven’t yet.

Billy put his phone into his back pocket and went to the garage to rummage through his tools. Soon the phone blipped with a message.

S: Thanks, the water’s turned off. I’m panicking, didn’t even think of that. The address is 357 Oak Street, 3rd floor.

Billy snorted.

B: No problem. I'll be there in fifteen.

Steve didn’t actually live that far from Billy, which was surprising. Billy was sure he had never seen Steve around. Brown-haired, doe-eyed and tall men were his kryptonite. He was pretty sure he’d remember a guy looking like Steve.

He parked his truck and Steve buzzed him in.

Billy stepped out of the elevator in Steve’s floor. It wasn’t hard to know which one was Steve’s door: it was the one ajar through which he heard cursing. He walked to the door and knocked on it before opening the door wider.

“Hey, it’s Billy,” he said after he opened the door and couldn't see anyone in the corridor.

“Yeah, come in, I’m a bit busy right now,” came from somewhere behind the open door. “Shut the door.”

Billy closed the door and turned to look at the corridor opening behind the door – and almost inhaled the gum he’d been chewing, followed by a coughing fit.

Steve was on his knees on the bathroom floor, leaning under the sink into the sink cabinet – his ass high up in the air, clad in nothing but wet, green basketball shorts that were glued to his ass and his hairy legs – jesus christ how can someone be that hairy – and not leaving any other assets to imagination either.

He backed out from the cabinet, turned around and sat on the floor. “Oh good, thank fucking lord,” he let out, looking tired but clearly relieved. When he saw Billy all red from coughing, his expression turned worried. “You okay?”

Billy nodded, still trying to catch his breath, and lifted the toolbox in his hand.

Steve got up and walked to the bathroom door, looking flustered and rubbing his hands to his thighs.

For fuck's sake would you stop doing that Harrington.

Billy was half hard already from seeing that wet ass, no further sights needed.

“I wish we could’ve met under other circumstances,” Steve said, smiling awkwardly, not knowing where to place his hands, on his hips, his arms crossed, again finding their place on his hips. He pointed at the toolbox. “Uh… I needed only one...”

Think about the tools. THE TOOLS.

“There are more than one size,” Billy croaked before coughing a few last times to his sleeve. “You didn’t tell me which, so I brought all I have.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Billy asked, his brows raising.

This is turning into a porn film cliché.

Steve turned red and grimaced, trying to turn it into an awkward smile. “Like I said in the message, I panicked.”

If he curls his hair around his finger and bats his eyelashes a few times I swer I won't be able to hold it.

Billy looked Steve in the eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate to all possible horrors of mismanaging a burst water pipe or a broken tap could cause. Then his eyes fell to Steve’s chest and the dark hair, a lot of it, that was clearly visible under the wet white t-shirt and he felt himself blushing.

Act normal, act normal, act normal....

To keep his thoughts on the task, Billy set the toolbox on the floor and took off his jacket and set it on the chair that was in the corridor. “Okay, let me take a look. Is the floor wet?”

Steve shook his head as he stepped aside to let Billy into the bathroom. “Not anymore. I mopped the floor, but I just didn’t see a point in changing clothes. Didn’t want to get the rest of my wardrobe wet.”

The bathroom was small, so they brushed against each other just a little as they passed, enough for Billy to get a whif of Steve's scent. He smelt of cedar wood, hairspray and a little sweat – a winning combo, apparently, since Billy's had to hold back a whimper and lock his eyes to the sink cabinet. “You didn’t think to call a plumber?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even, as he squatted in front of the sink and looked into the cabinet to check what kind of screws he had to open.

“I did. The one I reached said that if the drain isn’t clogged and the tap isn't leaking there’s no point in me paying for the nighttime extra and that he comes to fix it first thing in the morning. But he said that I should get rid of anything that’s under the sink so that he can get to work when he arrives. So I was doing that when I realized that I didn’t even have a coin I could try to pry open the screws.”

Billy took a deep breath. “Okay, well, that’s good. Based on your messages I was afraid that you were trying to fix the pipes with the screwdriver.”

Steve snorted, amused. “Well, I might not be a handyman but even I’m not that dumb.”

Billy looked up at Steve with a smirk. “You need to take this cabinet out for the plumber?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, it’s good then that I brought my whole toolbox then because not all of these won’t open with a flathead, they need a Phillips.”

“They need a what now?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows.

Clueless pretty thing, definitely checks the box.

Billy got up and chuckled. “I’ll take the cabinet apart for you, now that I’m here. But could I get a glass of water first? The coughing…”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Steve said and left the bathroom to fetch it.

Billy was setting up the electric screwdriver when Steve returned with the glass.

Steve was still wearing the same wet clothes, because of course he was.

I want to claw those off and bury my face into that chest hair.

Steve looking down at himself all of a sudden made Billy realize that he had probably stared a bit too intensively and blushing. He downed his water quickly before handing the empty glass back to Steve.

“Uh… I’ll leave you to it,” Steve said, smirking. “I'll go change.”

Yeah, you had to point that out. What, you want me to follow instead of taking this shit apart and fuck your brains off?

Well, okay, maybe Billy wanted to do that, but that was not what they'd agreed upon. Better if he stayed on his lane, for now.

This isn't a porn film, not a porn film...

“Yeah, this shouldn’t take long,” Billy replied, not daring to look back at Steve again, and got to work.

Once he had taken the cabinet apart he put away his tools and looked into the living room where the bathroom opened to. Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intently at his laptop and tapping away. He was wearing eyeglasses, something Billy hadn’t seen in any of the photos Steve had shared online. They fit him, framing his face nicely. Billy's eyes wandered lower and he realized that Steve was wearing only sweatpants, his glorious chest hair all on display. There was a lot of it indeed.

I want to press my nose into that, snuggle into it, run my fingers through it, tug it when I come. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I took the cabinet apart.”

Steve looked up, smiling and put the laptop away. “Hey, that’s awesome. Thanks, man! How can I repay you?” he asked as he walked to Billy.

Do not think about it, do not think about it, DO NOT…

“Uh...” Billy managed to get out, rubbing his neck with his hand. This wasn't a fucking porn film, he reminded himself, even if a handyman came to fix something at the house and oops, only the good looking little missus is at home, wearing skimpy clothes and instead of fixing anything they end up fucking against the kitchen counter like horny bunnies. Okaaayyy, well, Steve had been wearing wet skimpy clothes that left nothing to imagination and now he was wearing even less, he was maybe also a bit clueless and…

Billy tried to keep his head in check and glued his eyes on Steve's face. “Can I take you to dinner?”

Steve raised his eyebrow and measured Billy from head to toes with a lazy gaze.

Billy felt naked.

Steve smiled. “Uh… Should I be the one doing that, though?” He was quiet for a moment and smirked. “What if I'm all out of money and you have to get your pay, are there other ways I could do that?”

Billy swallowed and turned beet red. He let out a laugh and licked his lower lip.

Steve hooked his right thumb on the waistband of his sweats, pulling it down a bit and revealing the beginning of a very hairy happy trail.

The fucker.

Billy started to unbutton his shirt. “Well... Maybe we could come to a mutual agreement about that.”

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Please look forward to the lovely, wonderful and amazing work from the next contributor @hg-deranged-edition

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The ficlet is based on this meme:

[e-van-halen]

Chibi Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington 🦇🍦 ! ! !

[e-van-halen]

But I’m out of my head when you’re not around

FINALLY found the motivation to finish this lineart recently and my lovely boyfriend @burntproxy offered to color it for me and it came out so fucking good i love it so so much 😵‍💫❤️ i seriously can’t stop drawing these two

edit: someone brought to my attention another art piece from @ah-jiing​ that looks very similar to this one and i hadn’t seen the art before but i looked and it seems like we used the same reference picture (the reference pic i used was found on pinterest). thank you to the anon that pointed this out to me, go check out @ah-jiing​ since they also drew some awesome art! :D

(click for higher quality!)