#and okay. on one hand. billy knows he's not gods gift to this earth. his dads been telling him that his entire life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lebenspurpur · 3 years

Note

hi! i’m not sure if you’ve already done this or if it’d make you uncomfortable, but could i please possibly request the slashers with their s/o on their period? like how they’d act about it or what they’d do for their s/o? annnnnd maybe some nsfw if you’re okay with it? thank you so much, make sure you’re not overworking yourself and you’re taking care! ❤️

Thank you! You take care as well, get some water, a snack, grab a blanket and enjoy :)

Slashers with their s/o on their period:

Warnings: undetailed NSFW, blood duh, not proofread oof (my god I never do, do I?)

Michael Myers

SFW

Michael doesn't give a shit. This is your problem, not his.

If you're really in pain during that time of the month, he'll get more aware.

He surprisingly doesn't want you to feel pain, doesn't matter because of what.

Now he wants to stop the pain but he doesn't know how. You have to initiate any kind of physical contact.

After you show him how he might heat up a hot water bottle every now and then and worldlessly place it on your stomach.

If he's feeling soft, he'll place his big, warm hands on your belly when he hugs from behind.

He really tries to make you feel better though if you don't feel any pain, he doesn't see any reason to.

NSFW

Michael adores period sex. It adds to his natural desire for blood. In a way, it gets him hornier than normal sex.

He's probably the most unafraid slasher too. Michael loves your blood, no matter where it comes from.

Michael's pretty dangerous when it comes to sex though, so if you're in pain tell him, because he won't stop while you're at it.

He loves to go down on you. That might be disgusting to some, but to him, the taste of your blood mixed with your juices is the best thing on earth. And imagine him glancing up to you, eyes heavily lidded and chin covered in the red substance.

Vincent Sinclair

SFW

Vincent is the absolute sweetest when it comes to your special time of the month.

He knows exactly when it is since he wrote it in his calendar and on the day you start, he'll have pads or tampons ready for you.

Vincent gets Lester to go buy you snacks and he forces Bo to stop being annoying. At the end that's useless anyway, because the second Bo hears the words period, he's gone.

Vince knows how much your hormones can fuck up your emotions so he's always there to provide comfort. If you snap at him, he might feel a bit thrown off but he'll forgive you.

Need a hug? Just tell him. Vincent will be even more tender than he usually is, so careful as not to hurt you.

NSFW

Vincent isn't disgusted by period blood but he's concerned.

That being said he's skeptical about period sex because he doesn't want to cause even more pain than you're already in.

However, he doesn't say no to fingering or going down on you.

He's fine with only giving and not receiving pleasure for the time of your period. Though he'll be relieved when you offer to repay him.

If you insist on real sex, he'll do it for you but he's so much more tender and sweet and careful. Your pleasure is the only thing important to him, especially on your period.

Bo Sinclair

SFW

I am sorry but Bo flees the second he hears period.

When he thinks about it, the only things he remembers are mood swings, no sex, and blood.

Yeah, he's not the most considerate.

It takes a while to make him stay and help you through this time. Maybe after a few years of an ongoing relationship, he'll be willing to try.

The only thing he will do if you ask him to is a message.

NSFW

Bo is absolutely against sex during your period. He finds it absolutely disgusting.

However, Bo is horny and he has a high sex drive.

At the end of it, he might fuck you. After all, the blood usually eases up during the end and the other symptoms do so as well.

Sex while you're actively bleeding though? Never.

Lester Sinclair

SFW

Lester doesn't know a whole lot about periods. His mom died before she could teach him and, unlike his brother Vincent, he doesn't know anything about the human anatomy.

However, that doesn't mean he won't try to help you.

He gets advice from Bo, which he proceeds to ignore because Bo just tells him to leave. Vincent however gives him a clear explanation of how your body works and so he figures out how to help you.

Lester will make sure you're warm, with wrapped blankets around you and hot water bottles on your tummy.

Snacks will always be available and Lester will even feed you if you ask him.

Cuddles are a must. He'll gladly wrap his arms around you, Jonesy lying next to you, cuddled up next to your bodies.

NSFW

At first, he doesn't even understand that things could be different during your period.

Then it hits him that the pain might make it uncomfortable for you.

Lester is totally down to have sex as long as you're fine with it.

If not, he'll be happy to pleasure himself for the time of your period.

Baby Firefly

SFW

Baby knows how shit periods can be. She'll be so understanding and considerate, trying to be the best girlfriend she can be.

Whatever it is you wish, Baby will get it for you.

As a reward, she demands the same though.

If she's on her period, she wants you to show the same consideration she showed you.

If Otis is annoying you, she'll also gladly get him to shut up.

NSFW

Baby doesn't have a problem with period sex, after all, she has quite the experience with blood.

However, she knows how difficult it can be to be horny and in pain during your period.

She'll gladly not receive any pleasure and only go down on you if it makes you feel good.

Otis Driftwood

SFW

He doesn't know shit about periods.

Whenever Baby had her time of the month, he kind of just.. didn't care.

I can see him get high and then have a breakdown because he doesn't know why you're bleeding or how to stop it.

Even if you explain it to him, he won't get it.

He'll give you gifts because he's unsure of what else to do.

NSFW

He... has way too much experience with kinky things to be disgusted by period sex.

As I said, if he's high, the blood could trigger a panic attack.

He won't do oral though, that's not his thing.

Otis doesn't care if you feel pain, he's a sadist. Unless it's really bad, he doesn't even acknowledge it.

Billy Loomis

SFW

He doesn't know a lot about it, but he tries his best.

If you need help in any way, he'll be there for you.

Billy will whine if you make him buy pads. He'll do so anyway because he's a simp.

His advice comes from his male friends, so he'll do the classics, buy chocolates and flowers, and provide many cuddles.

If you snap at him, he'll sulk for a bit.

NSFW

He immediately thought period meant no sex. You'll have to initiate it if you're interested.

He'll push you away at first, confusedly asking about your period.

Billy isn't the biggest fan of period sex. He just doesn't quite like the idea.

His sex drive is too high to say no, so he'll fuck you anyway but he prefers it when you're not bleeding.

Stu Macher

SFW

He will be pretty clingy, trying to be the sweet boyfriend™.

He might forget about your pain over how much of a great boyfriend he is.

Stu will come back to reality when you snap at him and then he suddenly understands that periods aren't cute and wholesome at all.

He learns from that experience.

He's kind of scared now, you just don't know if it's because you're in pain or because you could snap at him again.

Stu is still supportive, he's just way more distant during that time than he used to.

NSFW

Stu also didn't even think about sex during your period.

The first time he gets horny during your period it suddenly hits him. He can't just go and ask you, can he?

It'll take him a while to openly talk about the subject.

He isn't really disgusted by your blood, he just never considered it?!

Stu prefers normal sex over period sex, that way he has less to think about.

Brahms Heelshire

SFW

His mom never told him anything about periods.

He didn't even know they exist.

The first time he sees you bleed he nearly faints from worry.

Brahms needs a lot of explaining to fully understand why your body acts the way it does.

After that, he'll be very timid but supportive with his help.

Cuddles are a daily activity anyway but now he'll be more careful, tenderly caressing your tummy as he snuggles against your skin.

He might even do a few of the chores.

Pro tip: If you act like you're actually dying from how painful it is, he'll be way more compliant.

NSFW

Sex is one of the first things he worries about, how could it not be.

He's kind of shy about the whole topic so the subject will only come up when he's super horny.

Brahms won't fuck you during this time, he'd probably forget about the blood and then panic when he spots it on his dick.

Oral is a must since Brahms' sex drive is extremely high.

In the beginning, he's against giving oral, but he's too aroused to care anymore after a while.

Thomas Hewitt

SFW

Being the queen she is, Luda already taught him a whole lot about female anatomy and periods.

The second he notices your bleeding, he's fully committed to showing all his support.

Thomas is there for you, doesn't matter what you need.

He's tough Y/N, neither your high emotionality nor blood can hurt him.

Tommy is so tender and caring, even more than he usually is.

He is the best slasher out there to care for you during your period.

NSFW

It takes him a lot of convincing to get him to have sex with you during your period.

He's not disgusted, after all, he's been through worse. He just doesn't want you to be in pain.

You need to get him really, really riled up to get him to give in to his urges instead of ignoring them.

His sexual urges feel like a burden to him, especially during your period.

He needs a lot of time and love to understand that it's just natural and nothing to be ashamed of.

Josef

SFW

Uh oh.

Feminist Josef™ shows up.

All women are queens and for the time being, he's going to treat you like one.

Home-cooked meals, warm hugs and he'll even wash your hair!

Josef is also really interested in the anatomy of your body and why and how this whole process happens.

I can see him staring at a tampon with a child-like curiosity in his eyes.

"It just... gets bigger when it's inside?! Wow..."

NSFW

He isn't concerned about sex, his sex drive is pretty low.

If you really want it, he's going to give in but he'll be extra careful.

Josef isn't disgusted by blood, he's mature enough to see it as a normal fluid your body produces.

It kind of boosts his ego, that you want him even during this time of the month.

Amanda Young

SFW

Naw, Y/N, she understands immediately.

She's a pretty busy woman but whenever she has time, her support and help are yours.

Sometimes she'll drop little gifts at your door while you're sleeping, having just come home from work.

If she has time, she'll be unnaturally clingy, cuddling up to you way more than usual.

Her temper does clash with your emotionality sometimes but she'll calm down quickly and apologize.

NSFW

She's fine with no sexual contact for the time of your period.

Amanda is not disgusted by period blood, she just knows how uncomfortable your period can get.

Some soft sex is always in if you want it as well.

She won't do very rough or kinky stuff during this time, you deserve to feel loved, supported, and comfortable.

#vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #baby firefly x reader #otis driftwood x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #josef x reader #amanda young x reader #slashers x reader #slasher headcannons

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 4/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

~~~~

Steve doesn’t know why he does this to himself.

It’s been, god how long has it even been since the funeral? Almost a year now according to the calendar, though in his head it’s only been weeks.

Time doesn’t really have much to do with it though. Unless they found a way to go back, Billy would still be gone, and he’d still go back to the cemetery each morning just to pretend he wasn’t, leftover alcohol in his system from the night before melding each passing day into a jumble of numbness.

And Steve, as he falls deeper into this routine of self torture, he’s becoming exhausted. Where he was once optimistic, or at least trying to stay focused on looking for the positives and back on the good times, now he's just empty.

He can’t pretend he’s not depressed anymore, and he can’t pretend things are going to be okay either.

As much as he is still hurting, Robin doesn’t let him just mope. If she knew what was making his heart ache, he thinks she might let him have a little more room to grieve, but she doesn’t know, she doesn’t even know how bad he truly gets when she’s not around, so she had made him accept the video store’s job offer they’d left for when his time as representative was finished.

Work is something to do to take his mind off of things, sure, and it’s a way to get him out of the house, but the only reason he accepted was because halfway between his house and the family video is the cemetery, and every day, whether he drives it or walks it depending on if he’s sober enough to take the car, he stops to pay his boyfriend a visit.

Most often he brings flowers, maybe blows a tearful kiss to the ground and moves on, but some days, like today, he feels a heaviness in his heart that tells him to show up hours before he’s due at his shift, ready to talk it out until he absolutely has to leave.

Maybe it’s a habit from the hospital, starting when he used to be cheerful and sit in the grass to talk about happy stories and good things that happened in his day to make Billy feel better. But a year into talking to the dirt instead of his lover had left him bitter, and he was far past that optimistic point, all that’s left now is guilt, remorse, all the feelings about the loss he’d thus far kept bottled up.

This particular morning, he’d awoken from a nightmare, what happened at the mall never leaving his memory, the flashes of sorrow and pain and death lingering behind his eyes when he tries to get even a moment's peace; everyday is hard, but when he wakes up with tears in his eyes, he knows what kind of day it’s going to be.

So he comes out to Hawkins cemetery, no gift in hand today except his company, and kneels in the muddy grass, damp from an overnight storm that contributed to his plagued rest and left him running on an hour, maybe two, of good sleep, and he just starts talking.

He starts with the basics, the generic greetings and declarations of love that he promises each morning, but his emotions quickly rise to the surface. Reaching out to trace his fingers over the indentations in the upright stone, his voice wobbles slightly, and he shifts from venting to what he came here for:

“Billy. Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve been pretending things will be okay, but I know they won’t. I failed you. I wasn’t there for you and it’s my fault what happened to you. I don’t even deserve to sit here and cry with you. I know Max has but, have you forgiven me? I don’t know where you are now, but I don’t want you to hate me. I love you so much.”

The silence in response is daunting. Makes him want to scream so loud he could tear the earth apart looking for his Billy, but instead he just repeats his apologies and promises again and again until his tears slow. Eventually, when he’s run out of things to say, he stands, stray tears dripping from the end of his nose and rewetting the soil, and leaves.

Drives away to his job like nothing happened, strolling in some thirty minutes late for his shift. Because today is the premiere of some mainstream pop culture film that’s gone way over Steve’s head on video, the Family Video is packed.

“Hey, dingus. Could’ve used you at the start of your shift.” Robin shouts over the shop noise as he strolls past to his post.

Steve shrugs, an over-exaggerated gesture in case she can’t hear him over the crowd, “Well I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t see you working. I need help restocking once those shelves are cleared out.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve does a mocking salute, the grimace on Robin's face making it clear she can see through his overdone gestures that he’s hiding something, overcompensating for the emptiness he feels.

She doesn’t have the chance to bring it up though, because the both of them get whisked off into separate duties working the over capacity video store. Only, while Robin handles it like she would any other day, with mild annoyance and enough spite to get through it alright, Steve is too fragile. All he can register is commotion, chaos: the buzzing neon lights in the ceiling, surging crowds bumping into him, chatter and bustle filling his ears, and he starts to break down.

But because he’s Steve, he tries at first to just power through. Tries to block it out and resume productivity, but he is already knee deep in a panic attack, so he pushes back through the customers, probably a little too roughly, to tell Robin with that lilt of fear and upset to his tone, “Robin, I can’t be out here.”

She barely looks up as she kindly responds, “I get it, Steve. Go take your break, I’ll handle the rush.”

That’s exactly what he does, is go straight to the back room, but instead of his standard fifteen allotted by the overheads, he stays in the back for an hour, and then another, leaving behind customers arguing over who should get the last copy of the new movie, people in line out the door, tapes knocked off of the shelves, all while people are in trying to do their normal returns and rentals. It’s again total chaos out there, only made worse by the fact that Robin is now alone at the counter.

She would also have to clean up once the rush died, and maybe even replace some tapes if people weren’t going to start watching where they’re walking, and as much as Steve wanted to feel bad for disappearing into the back room for the past hour and a half and leaving her with all of that, he can’t be bothered with coming back out, his morning at the cemetery having taken too much from his emotional threshold to be productive, or remorseful even, now.

There are two big plush chairs and a couch in the back, a much nicer room than the icebox that was the Scoops break area, but Steve sits on the floor instead, his back pressed to the door and his stained up knees drawn to his chest. From where he is, the endless noise and bustle drifts down the short hall to the break room, but he’s too in his head, thinking about nothing and everything to pay it any mind.

It takes probably another an hour and a half for all the crowd to die down, the line clearing out and Robin chasing away most of the stragglers after explaining for the hundredth time that until the already rented out copies were returned, they wouldn’t get any more in and that no, they weren’t hiding any in the back.

Steve can hear her cleaning up a little before she gets too behind, cardboard boxes being broken down and the irritating scrape of broom bristles against dusty tiled floors, followed quickly by loud boot steps toward the door that make his chest ache, pretending it was the echoes someone else instead of his best friend.

The break room is locked behind him, something that is forbidden by company policy, but Steve felt necessary, and Robin beats on it with the palm of her hand, startling him out of the half dazed, half alert state he’s been in all day, “Harrington, what are you doing in there? I just did a whole rush by myself, asshole.”

He can’t father the words to respond, tears welling up and choking anything he might say off in his throat. So Robin calls again, the door knob rattling like she’s trying to get in, her voice more concerned, “Steve? You alive in there?”

“Steve.” She tries again, more desperate, and Steve finally finds it in himself to say something, sniffling and responding weakly, “‘M’fine Rob.”

“Can you let me in?” Robin suggests, just on the side of hesitant, making Steve feel something like guilt for shutting her out, both emotionally and in the literal sense, so he stands, shaky and unbalanced, and unlocks the door for her.

He must look as bad as he feels, because Robin's pinched face of concern melts into one of sympathy as soon as she lays eyes on him.

She steps into the back room with him, after a moment of pause which Steve had come to hate, knowing that meant whoever was speaking was going to take pity on him, asking, “You doing okay in here, buddy?”

“What does it look like?” There’s sarcasm and bitterness in his tone, though it’s muffled by his tears. He doesn’t worry about offending Robin, she’s been dealing with his breakdowns for a long time now, and she knew how he could get.

Patiently, in spite of his snappiness, she asks, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Steve’s not sure how that’s even a question anymore.

What happened was fighting monsters at the Byers. Was getting tortured in the Starcourt mall. Was losing his Billy.

To say that those things had a huge impact on him was a gross understatement. Hell, even Robin was affected too, the both of them incredibly emotionally fragile these days with about a thousand things that could trigger them, both were plagued by nightmares and flashbacks and panic attacks at random points in time. It shouldn’t be a mystery what was wrong now.

But having two hour long breakdowns in the employee lounge, Steve had to admit that was new, and Robin was obviously scared for him because of it.

So he lies, “It’s nothing, Robs. Just the same old stuf.” Steve isn’t a very good liar though, he can’t hold eye contact and his voice trails off, revealing him every time.

“Steve.” It was an attempt to appeal to him, maybe to ground him so he’d open up to her, “Please talk to me.”

An attempt, which he shuts down with, “We’re at work right now.”

Robin frowns, a crease in her eyebrow. He’s never seen her look more frustrated as she says, halfway between an insult and a joke, “No, I’m at work. You’re crying in the break room on the floor.”

But again, Steve is having it, “I’m serious, I don’t wanna talk about it here.”

He feels bad about being harsh with Robin, but his grief, this breakdown, it’s not for the general reasons she thinks, it’s specifically because of his visit to Billy’s grave this morning. The heavy realization of everything he’d vented to that cold stone that stood in place of the beaming face, the beautiful boy that always knew what to say, who he loved and still hadn’t told her about, that was what had pushed him over the emotional threshold.

“Alright, well, we’ve got like, an hour left before our shift is over, so you can just veg out back here or you can come and do some work.” Robing announces with a quick glance at her wrist watch, standing and patting the top of Steve’s head just to mess up his hair like he hated before walking out of the room.

At least she was trying.

It takes him a few minutes to find the will to follow her out, but eventually he does sidle up beside her at the front counter, his posture weak and his muddy shoes dragging on the ground, but he’s there, earning a taunting flash of Robins biggest and snarkiest grin as she slides him a stack of tapes that need rewinding.

They don’t get many customers after the initial rush of the early afternoon where he was out for, but he can tell Robin was still keeping her eye on him, just in case he needed a break, or in case he did break himself. Anymore, and much to his dismay, it doesn’t take much to get him overwhelmed, especially not if he was already upset, but he makes sure not to let that show now, putting on a mask like everything is okay, and he is managing it just fine.

Because the thing is, he isn’t managing anything, he’s still grief stricken and he’s drinking himself half to death and he has no future ahead but more sadness, but he’d be damned if he let anybody figure that out. Let anybody worry about him, when he was still living. In his eyes, it’s selfish to expect pity, when you’ve already survived the worst.

He thinks though, by the time their work is almost done, that Robin is starting to suspect something, because the second their shift is over, before the guys to cover the closing shift even show, she’s dragging him out of the store, snatching the keys for the BMW out of Steve's back pocket.

It goes without discussing anymore that on bad days, Robin doesn’t take Steve back home, which is to say, the two of them had been pretty much sharing her dinky little duplex apartment, the two of them living in the right side with a nosy older lady in the other. They both were afraid of what he could do when he was home alone, and, Robin didn’t really know this, but Steve was also afraid of what his father might say the day the dozens of rooms in that house weren’t enough to avoid him, when he realized how pathetic a state his son was in.

The living arrangement didn’t change much though. Steve still wasn’t very good at talking through his problems, and he still wouldn’t eat or shower or sleep regularly. He knew it scared Robin, because it scared him too, but he had other things to worry about.

Maybe it was true that he was so sensitive that it took practically nothing to send him over the edge, but it's not a big deal, he’ll be alright, how are you doing anyway? Robin always has to fight so hard just to get him to talk to her, his best friend who he all but lives with, because all he is worried about is other people. Something to do with losing the one person he was always caring for, trying to make up for not being able to save Billy’s life, or help him through his hardest moments. He knows that, but it doesn’t matter why he’s selfless, as long as he is, right?

Further, he reasons, so what if he’d had a concussion so bad that he still gets migraines that leave him bedridden at times? His friend is hurting and he needs to be there for her. Who cares if he has nightmares so intensely vivid he can’t sleep for weeks at a time? Robin has panic attacks in crowded places, and each time he has to fret about it for days.

It makes her worried sick all the time, knowing that Steve all but refuses to tell her if he needs something, but he doesn’t like feeling studied, can tell she is always looking for signs that something is wrong, watching him to make sure he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t. All she wants is for him to just stop bottling everything up, because she claims she had and it made everything easier for her to cope with, but he’s stubborn.

That just isn’t the way his brain works, and she’s probably sick of trying to get through to him. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, he knows she’s not far from a breakthrough with him, his own coping mechanisms exhausting him to the point he might consider external help, but she doesn’t have to know that yet. For now, she sticks to what she always does in place of these tougher conversations, and that’s to make Steve tea and try to work him down to the point where he’ll talk to her. Today, it’s not going to take much convincing.

The second day he’d ever come over here, she tried to make a pot of coffee for a little chat like this, and Steve had started crying like a baby just from the way it smelled. It reminded him of his mother, of diner dates with Billy and nurses bringing him breakfast, so she had to switch to tea. He could tell it would always bother her when he wouldn’t tell her why something like that was making him so upset, but as Robin would have to come to realize the more he stayed with her, that was just the first of many things she didn’t understand about Steve Harrington.

There were endless triggers that set him off that she witnessed, and when she comforted him, he could tell she understood some of them, like when the lights would flicker when Dorothy ran her vacuum and he’d stop breathing, or when a siren would start up in the distance and he’d get so dizzy and his hands would shake so badly. But it was those overly specific things, like the smell of coffee, that she was sure had nothing to do with what they went through, and her confidence through those breakdowns would be noticeably a lot lower.

Pine tree air fresheners, the click of stilettos on tiled floors, leather car seats, the busy tone of the telephone, cigarette smoke, rose scented perfume, hairspray, crystalline ash trays. The list of things that reminded him of his parents and the utter helplessness of growing up alone and scared, and of his Billy, of everything he had lost when he died. To Robin, who didn’t have the context of his feelings, it just felt like every day there was something new that would set Steve back ten steps in the progress he’d made, and he knew it was making Robin feel so helpless and guilty.

She was getting better while he was still so thoroughly depressed, and she would take missteps on purpose to not get too far ahead of him. He was sabotaging his best friend with his own misery.

The thought draws stinging tears to his eyes, and Steve sits down at the table without saying a word to Robin, knows his composure will crack the moment he opens his mouth.

She finishes making their tea, specifically lemon flavored with two spoonfuls of honey and one of sugar, sliding him his tea in a tacky mug she’d bought him from a yard sale as a sort housewarming gift, an invitation to stay as long as he needed, and sits in the unbalanced chair across from him. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Steve taps his fingers on the side of his mug, eyes trained on the paint stained and scratched surface of the table, “What do you want me to say? I freaked out at work, nothing new.”

Robin sighs shakily, and it makes Steve feel a pang of guilt in his chest. Despite her best efforts, he gets so defensive all the time anymore, the careless goof he was before Starcourt buried underneath all that was depressing him, and that he wouldn’t share with her. He was an awful friend, spending so much time with his past actions and losses, he’d forgotten how to live in the present.

“But there’s something you haven’t been telling me, Steve.” She bumps their knees together under the table to get him to look at her, “I’m not trying to be nosy or intrude, really, I just want to help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Steve raised his mug to his face, mumbling into it, “It’s supposed to get worse before it gets better, right?”

That same worried crease above her eyebrow appears, “Who told you that?”

He doesn’t answer, staring into the swirling mug before him. A sign for her that he still wasn’t ready to talk. She must decide that she would do most of the talking then, because she puts her mug down, takes a deep breath before saying, “Listen, you don’t have to tell me everything, I just want you to get better and I don’t think you should do it on your own. I haven’t, and I think it’s time I try to be there for you live you’ve been for me.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve didn’t know what to say, the plastic clock Robin had taken from her grandmother’s kitchen ticking away the seconds, the minutes that passed before Steve swallows hard and looks up from the spot he’d been focusing on, trying and failing to find the right words again before he explains himself, “I just think.. I feel like everyone moved on way too fast.”

“From Starcourt?” What she meant didn’t need to be said. She didn’t need to specify the torture, the battle with an interdimensional monster, the fall out afterwards, for him to understand, but that wasn’t it, and he shakes his head no.

Confused, Robin clarifies, “Then from what?”

“All those people that day, Robs, they died and life is just supposed to go on like normal. We still have holidays and we got jobs again, but all those people, they-“ There are tears in his eyes so he cuts himself off, hoping that Robin got the point anyways.

From the look of clarity on her face, she does understand now where this is coming from. Steve had been struggling with survivor's guilt, Robin knew that because he insisted upon attending each and every funeral he could with his schedule at the hospital, and she’d reluctantly driven him to them without question, no matter how unhealthy it was for him.

He had even told her once, when he was drunk off his ass and knocking on her bedroom door in the early hours of the morning, that he didn’t think it was fair that he didn’t die, but all those other people did. She had never gotten an answer out of him when she asked why he thought he deserved to die, and he hoped she’d have forgotten it by now, but now he was cracking, and she was going to figure it out, so he keeps going.

“It’s just, how are we supposed to go back to normal when there’s so many people who can’t? They died, a-and they left behind their families and friends and partners.” He sniffles, tears starting to roll down his colorless face for the second time that day, “How can we act like nothing ever happened when it’s our fault?”

That makes Robin pause, her eyes going wide, “What?”

Steve freezes, hadn’t meant to say that, and he stays quiet until she asks him a second time, “How is it our fault, Steve?”

“Because we were so caught up with that stupid transmission that we missed our chance to help them. And for what? I was just trying to play the hero for Dustin, but I could’ve stopped it if I wasn’t so stupid.”

“What could you have stopped?” Asking so many questions made her sound like a pushy therapist, and it’s making Steve increasingly frustrated, answering harshly, “The-The shadow, Robin! The Mind-Flayer!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. But Steve, I really don’t think there’s much we could have done.”

Steve just shakes his head, insists, “If I hadn’t been so-so focused on doing something I thought was important, I could’ve done something that actually mattered before it was too late. I wasted so much time in the mall. But they needed me and I-I failed them. You feeling bad for me and telling me it’s not my fault doesn’t change that.”

“Steve, if we hadn’t been down there, nobody would’ve known about the gate, and the mind flayer wouldn’t be dead now.” Robin comforts, a deep frown on her tear tracked face, “There wasn’t anything anybody could’ve done.”

It’s not what Steve needs to hear.

“Stop saying that.. I could’ve saved him, and then none of this would’ve happened.” A sob wracks through his body as soon he finishes, the gut wrenching sound echoing through Robin's tiny apartment kitchen.

“Who?” Robin asks, reaching across the table and taking his shaking hand in her own, “Steve, who could you have saved?”

Through his tears he’s able to stutter out the answer, accented with a pointed sob, “Billy. I could’ve saved Billy..”

She doesn’t say anything in turn, occupied with putting the pieces together, though she’s still missing the larger context, instead pushing her chair back on the scratched kitchen tiles, pulling Steve up out of his own chair into the tightest hug she’d probably ever given anybody. They stand like that for a long time, Steve crying into Robin’s hair and her trying to comfort him through her confusion until his tears slow, or at least the hyperventilating is under control.

When eventually he does pull away from her, he wipes at his eyes and whispers, “Can I tell you something else? It’s about him.”

“Of course.” Robin answers quickly, something like relief, an unfamiliar look on her face anymore, written behind her eyes, making Steve yet again feel a twinge of guilt for hiding so much from his best friend.

He speaks quickly, struggling to get the right words together again, “You know how I said that the only time I was ever in love was with Nancy Wheeler?”

“Yeah?” Robin frowns, and Steve can see it in her face that she’s trying to work through it, what his love life has anything to do with his grief, but it’s a lot harder for him to admit than it is even for her to understand.

“I lied.” He chews on his lip, the faint and bitter taste of blood on his tongue, “And you know how when Dustin asked if we were together, I told him that you weren’t my type and we laughed about it because I’m definitely not yours either?”

“Steve I told you-“ Contemplation is replaced with fear, but he quickly cuts her off, “No, no, it’s not like that. I-I’m not done.”

Steve takes a deep breath, “You sort of are my type, but it was always someone else with-with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes and freckles all over that I was in love with.”

“I don’t understand. Who?”

Steve’s realizing he’s come full circle in this conversation, almost identical to the one they had on the bathroom floor over a year ago now when Robin can out to him, his tone and the distress in his features softening, “Robin.”

The pieces click into place, a whole range of emotion from shock to confusion to finally, sympathy, crossing Robin's face, “Oh, Steve. I’m so sorry. When did you…”

“Christmas Eve last year. Night of the snowball he apologized for being an asshole, and a few weeks later he kissed me.” Six months. The time that they’d had together was now as long as he was in the hospital, and since then how long Steve had been grieving him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounds almost hurt by it, the realization that her best friend didn’t come to her with this, especially when she of all people would be understanding. But Steve doesn’t have an answer to that, he doesn’t really know why.

All he does is shrug in response, tired of talking it out anyways, so with a forced sigh Robin tells him, “Well anyways, I’m glad you told me now. You shouldn’t have been doing this on your own for so long.”

Steve smiles weakly and lies, just as he’s been lying for so long, “It’s okay Robin. I’ve been getting better.”

But it doesn’t have the effect on Robin he wants, because she insists, for the first time not just letting him stew in his guilt and bottle everything up, “I don’t think drinking your life away and breaking down more often than ever really counts as doing better.”

Of course he tries to defend himself, anyone would against that, “Come on, Rob-“

But Robin cuts him off, “No, Steve. I’m serious. You need to get help.”

“I’m not going to a therapist.”

“Okay, but you still need to come to me with this stuff.” Steve looks away, and Robin’s tobw gets more desperate, “Steve, please. You can’t do this by yourself. I understand, I’m your best friend. I just want to be there for you.”

“I’ll.. think about it.” Is the last thing he says before he turns to leave, stopping short when he hears Robin sniffle, even on her worst days almost never seeing her cry, “Shit.. Robs.”

“No, no. I’m done talking about it Steve.” Robin shakes her head, her face flushes red as she fights back tears she doesn’t want him to see, biting her knuckles, “Just.. go ahead. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Numbly, he does. He turns and goes up the stairs to the used to be closet Robin turned into a room for him when he comes over.

~~~~

Billy doesn’t know how long he’s been in this hell.

His hair is getting longer, almost down his back now. It’s a matted mess that’ll never brush out even if someday he gets back to water that runs clear and his Gee conditioner he used to slip Susan a few bucks to buy for him, but he can’t bring himself to cut it.

He does shave though. Takes a knife to his face and does his best to use broken and grimy windows and mirrors for accuracy. It seems pointless, and for the most part it is, but his dad used to grow a beard in the winter, and the very last thing he wants is to look like him. Seeing him again would be one thing, but becoming him? That’s something Billy's willing to take a few knicks from a rusty old blade to avoid.

He used to keep track of the days, measured by the patterns in the storms constantly churning overhead, with a notch in the dying bark of a tree he passed between the convenience store and his house, the two places he’d been able to call his safe haven since he found himself trapped.

But then the dogs, as he’d come to call them now, changed. They used to circle the woods, patrol the other side of town, blocking his access to the downtown areas, like the hospital, the police station, Steve’s house. Then suddenly, they started closing in on his side, and from the many encounters he’s had from strays and crossing their invisible boundaries, he knew he couldn’t stay in that place.

So he’d lost his home, the ghost of his family that had been keeping him grounded, gone as he salvages anything he can, and leaves.

For a while, it feels like relief almost. The burden of how long he’d been here and how alone he was lifted, but he knows that’s just a way of comforting himself. He’s actually devastated.

He wants to be able to sleep on his back porch and he wants to be able to look at all the damaged family photos inside the overtaken house, no matter how fake the smiles and poses are, and he just wants to be home. Not that the building means much, home is the feeling, being with the people who he cares about and who care about him. He’s not sure he ever had the sense of what that really meant, but he’d take any dysfunctional upbringing over this.

The best he had for a while was Steve’s place.

Steve is never there, in the physical sense or in that freaky, spiritual, can be heard but not seen way. Inside the mansion is somehow pristinely kept, even in all of this wreckage that destroyed the rest of Hawkins. Mrs. Harrington would be proud of the intact decor and the spotless floors. Whatever those white particles were, which were slowly making it harder and harder for Billy to breath, were the only blemish, everything coated in at least an inch of the stuff.

Outside is another story entirely. The lawn is ripped up, the chairs and lawn ornaments are mangled or missing, and the pool is completely drained, in the place of water gangly vines and more sticky decomposition than he’d seen in even the most remote areas.

He remembers Barbara Holland. He remembers Steve saying she drowned accidentally in his pool when she got brought up. He remembers the fear in his eyes when they were out at night, the way those honey browns would scan the treeline for danger, on his worst days drawing the curtains and refusing to go out back for anything.

He starts to wonder, if maybe the vines mark the victims. His house, Steve’s pool, both completely overtaken. Heather’s house is only a street over from Steve’s, but he can’t will himself to go in there and see if his theory is correct. Same goes for the steelworks, or the community pool.

But, nice as it was, Steve’s house didn't last long as a refuge. He only stays there for a couple of weeks before he again has to grab what he can and abandon it, the dogs having followed him and cut another chunk out of his territory. There was a pack of them wandering the yard, a couple breaking off to charge at the back doors, and Billy has to decide between holing himself up in that hideously wallpapered room that had come to be another definition of home, and running for his damn life.

He chose the latter, scaling the shed roof from the upstairs bathroom window just as the monsters break the glass double doors. Down the rattling drain pipes he prayed would hold his weight, and into the shed to regroup. He’d gotten out with almost nothing of Steve’s, not that polo shirts and nike shoes were great for apocalyptic survival gear, but he wished he could’ve nabbed anything more, a picture, a coat, a bag, at least something he could use.

All he made out with though was a red bandana, which, if he ever gets out of this hell, he has to ask Steve about that, no way his reformed prep was freaky enough to walk around Hawkins advertising his preference for taking it elbow deep, an empty notebook, a pair of scissors as a just in case weapon, and an old banged up Bic which was out of fluid anyways.

The bandanas alright, paisleys not his pattern of choice and he’s more of a navy blue and grey guy than red, but it’d do well enough to keep that nasty shit in the air out of his lungs. Everything else he grabbed is basically useless to him though, so he scours the shed instead, sneaking in through the back door with a sharp eye on where the dogs broke into Steve’s.

In there he gets a little better of a haul, most of it still just junk he can repurpose for tending injuries, but on the back wall, held up by a barely standing shelf, is the golden find, a machete the length of his arm. Brand new and sharpened, a little worn from the rot but clearly never used, the Harrington’s had a gardener to trim back the branches, and everything in here was just for show so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t feel emasculated by not doing any work but answering phone calls and yelling at underpaid workers anyways, so Billy grabs it, finally having more than an old mower blade and a collection of knives from decorative to army to kitchen, most of which were all too small and almost got his arm torn off.

It’s that machine he’d stumbled upon that bittersweet day that he carries now, dripping with the oozing blood of one of the dogs, slightly bent now because another got it between its teeth and more dull from cutting through rubbery skin. The damn thing has saved his life though, many times over as the territories shift again in quick, unpredictable cycles, this last time ending with him cornered in the hospital's courtyard.

He was over there raiding for bandaging and medicine, anything that might help in the long run, but of course, it would have to come in handy just a little sooner, silly Billy for thinking about the future, because the monsters find him.

Thankfully, none of them actually get him, though one is particularly disgusting, it’s head, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, basically explodes when he stabs through it, another damn pair of his jeans getting ruined by the sticky, reddish spatter. The only worry he has time for before he has to kill, or scare off in most cases, the rest of the dogs that step forward, is the damned stain.

There aren’t too many, and those whose brains aren’t dripping off of his weapon, or as annoying as it is, his clothes, run off quickly, leaving Billy himself to move on.

First Cherry Lane, then Steve’s, and now the hospital. Guess it’s time to fucking leave again.

Hawkins is deceptively big for a country bumpkins paradise. The town and its shops and the surrounding neighborhoods only make up some half of the city, even he used to live on the edges of the civilized part, the rest of town stretching on for miles and miles of rural farmland, a couple of houses here and there the deeper you get into the country.

He’d never been over that way except maybe once when Max flipped the map upside down and they got lost on the way to Cherry for the first. That wasn’t much help now, but he was otherwise out of options. It was getting lost in the woods trying to find the more hidden houses, or it was being dinner for the dogs, which he could still hear chittering somewhere nearby, regrouping for the next attack probably.

The decision isn’t hard for Billy. He grabs whatever he’s salvaged and just bolts, bandana mask around his neck, machete in the bag on his back so he doesn’t cut himself up and make all this surviving for nothing, just getting the hell out of there before they decide they want to fight him again.

Because frankly, after as long as it’s been, his energy is getting low. He doesn’t know what he’s surviving for anymore, let alone if he’s going to be able to for much longer. His lung capacity is getting lower by the day, he’s got old wounds that won’t heal. The dogs probably aren’t too far from finishing him off if he gets attacked too many more times, so he’s just not chancing it.

Billy runs and he runs, coughing up a little blood in the process, until he ends up in a neighborhood he’s never seen before. Right now, that’s good news, so he slows his pace and takes his machete back out, just in case he let his guard down too soon.

Over here it’s a little brighter, a little less destroyed maybe, but still not right. Houses still slump and there are still pulsing vines all over, the roads still dusted with toxins. But there are a lot of houses, and that’s usually good news for avoiding the monsters.

As nice an area as it is, there's still something bigger drawing Billy to this area. Immediately he thinks back to the cemetery, how he’d felt and heard Steve that day, an event he’d come to think, after so long without a repeat feeling, had been only in his head, and he panics, for just a moment.

He knows he can’t let him slip by this time. Closing his eyes, he tries to pinpoint the feeling in his chest, like an arrow that can guide him in the direction of this, a compass pointing straight to his love.

Trusting that this feeling isn’t a warning, and he’s not about to walk into a nest, he follows it, slowly at first but with more fervor when he hears two echoing voices at the same time his chest clenches. He recognizes one as a vague face in his memory, Steve’s best friend, the one Heather never had the guts to tell about the crush she had on her, Robin maybe was her name. The other voice, well, the other voice is Steve’s.

They’re coming from a rotten duplex with no doors or windows. It looks a lot like a marked house, and he wonders if Robin knows she got a discount because the owner of the house was dead, melted into a monster that has tried to kill her along with the rest.

Approaching the house, he doesn’t know what to expect, if maybe they’ll be inside, or if this is just some delusion from a lack of oxygen to his brain. It doesn’t really matter. He steps up, careful to avoid rickety spots in he steps, and goes inside.

First, he leans his machete against the mushroom wall. There’s two reasons he never brings the weapons all the way in, first being that any mess he made in the house always had to be cleaned up by his step mother, so outside of the deepest throws of teenage rebellion, he always did what he could to minimize dirt in he house, and that included bringing a machete dripping with brains inside, even if there wasn't anyone around to see it, it was a habit built by thankful glances and praise, albeit somewhat backhanded, from his parents, so it was one he continued to honor.

Second, he harbors a deep respect for the houses he’s stayed in, despite the lack of doors on this one, each and every home he’s entered, no matter if it was for five minutes to steal some food or upwards of weeks where he slept there, these buildings were his shelter, and he feels the need to respect them, so, weapons stay at the front door. So far, the dogs haven’t followed him inside.

Looking around, he can tell Steve isn’t here either. The house is definitely abandoned just like the rest, and his heart sinks just a little, until he hears it again. A vague whisper that’s just barely audible to his ear.

He knows he’s in the right place. Every inch of him aches for Steve, but he can’t see him. He tries again to call out for him, an echo of the cemetery, “Steve? Can you hear me?”

No response comes.

“I don’t understand, why can’t you hear me?”

Things have gone silent on the other side, and Billy feels hopeless. A bout of frustration turns him around, the urge to forget about his stupid rules and just tear this house apart until he finds his Steve, curbed by seeing the wall phone.

He’s not stupid. He’s been over here long enough to realize he’s not in Hawkins, not the real one anyhow, that they, Steve and his family and everyone else are instead. The how and the why are another story entirely, but he has the basic understanding that he is alone, and they are parallel to him. Coexisting in different planes.

And if that is the case and he’s not on the worst trip of his life or just completely off his rocker, him and the dogs he kills an Agave and Pentheus type situation, then he can contact the other plane, say, by telephone even.

Luckily for him, Robin is forgetful, and there’s a list of numbers taped to the wall by the phone, only slightly worn with black gooey rot. He picks up the phone and listens to the emptiness, no dial tone in his ear. His hands are shaky as he slowly, hesitantly punches in the numbers, the three and the eight buttons getting monster blood on them from his fingers.

He raises the phone to his ear, the sound of his own ragged breathing echoing back in his ear as he waits for someone to answer, the line ringing, and ringing, and ringing.

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #robin buckley #tw blood #ej writer #story by ej!#more tags on ao3

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drop-of-infinity · 3 years

Text

Destiel fic time, this part canon compliant with season 12. As always, anything is quotation marks is directly from the show, and any chapter can be read alone.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

<><><><><><><>

Chapter 9: season 12

Keep Calm and Carry On

{“Whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend.” On some level Dean knew that Mary’s gun couldn’t actually hurt Cas, but he still panicked at the sight of it pointed at the angel’s chest. Besides, he didn’t want Mary and Cas’s first meeting to involve anyone getting shot. Cas stared at him in shock, then immediately wrapped his arms around him. Dean sunk into Cas. I’m home, he thought.

{“Dean!” Cas felt like his chest was going to explode. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. He latched onto the hunter, desperately needing the contact, and almost cried when he felt Dean’s arms lift up to hug him back. This is real. He’s alive. When they separated, Cas found himself breathless. Odd, as I don’t technically need to breathe, his slightly scrambled brain thought distantly. He looked up at Dean who was smiling softly, and his heart clenched. I love you.

{“Cas Cas Cas! Don’t hurt him. Not yet.” Cas allowed Dean to hold him back. He was an angel, Dean wouldn’t actually be able to stop him from doing anything, but Cas had enough faith in him to allow himself to be manhandled. He still glanced up at Dean ruefully, although the effect was slightly ruined by the way he’d already melted under his hands.

The Foundry

{“Morning sunshine.” Sam gave Dean a weird look, and he realized he’d said that out loud. It was getting steadily harder to keep his thoughts under lock and key around Cas. Dean was used to hiding feelings, but four years was a long time to know you were in love with someone and never say anything. He took a deep breath and pressed everything down again.

First Blood

{“They’ve only been gone-“

“Six weeks two days and ten hours.” Cas’s chest hurt. He hadn’t stopped beating himself up for letting them go, even though Dean had told him to. Dean. Where was he now? Was he ok? Cas knew that the longing rolling off himself must be palpable but he didn’t care at this point. He just wanted Dean back.

{“Cas.” “Dean?” “Hey buddy, long time.” “What-what happened, wh-where are you?” Cas almost collapsed on the spot. His heart was trying to beat out of his chest and his knees were weak with relief. How many times had they almost lost each other by now? It didn’t matter, because every time it was the same bone crushing relief, the same lung deflating he’s okay he’s okay he’s okay. Cas grabbed the edge of a chair to steady himself, and took a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

{“Hey buddy.” Cas melted into Dean’s arms, barely holding back a whimper. The hug was over far too soon for his aching skin, and he turned his body towards Dean as he walked away, like a flower trying to catch the sun.

{As they sat in the back of the car, Dean considered what he had done and what he was about to do. There was no way he was letting Billie reap Sam or their mom. He was about to die. It was why he was sitting in the back of the car with Cas. He just wanted to be with him for a minute. Cas’s hand rested on the seat between them. Dean didn’t grab it, because he was, at heart, a coward, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything so badly. He could practically see the longing radiating off himself in waves.

Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets

{“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Dean’s blood was boiling. This dickhead had no idea what Cas could do, what he had done. He might not command celestial armies anymore, but the dude was still amazing. It was more than just righteous anger though. Cas had rebelled against heaven for them. For Dean, or so he said. The way Ishim was talking to Cas, everything he said about how far Cas had fallen... it was all on Dean. He knew Cas would resent him for saying it though, so he didn’t.

{“I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness the same way I cured my own. By cutting it out.” Cas lay bleeding on the floor, unable to do anything, but he knew Ishim was wrong. Ishim’s love for Lily had turned him dark and twisted because she didn’t love him back. Cas knew Ishim could feel Cas’s longing, and saw a similar situation to himself and Lily with Cas and Dean, but he hadn’t accounted for one thing. Cas was at peace with it. He was prepared to always love Dean and never get an answer, and that wasn’t a weakness. It was what had made him strong enough to stop the apocalypse, to break free of Naomi’s control, to save the world from Amara. It was his greatest strength.

Stuck In The Middle (With You)

{“I think I’m dying.”

“No.” Dean could feel the panic rising into his throat, and he forced it down. Cas needed him right now, he didn’t have time for this. I can’t lose him he thought desperately. They had to do something. A distant part of his mind reminded him of something someone had told him once. “I watched the man I loved die. There’s no normal after that.” Dean steeled himself. He was NOT about to watch the man he loved die because they were going to fix Cas. They had to.

{“I love you. I love all of you.” Cas was dying, and he needed them to know. He needed Dean to know. He had imagined saying it a million times, and there had been dozens where it was on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he hadn’t pictured this. Dying in a barn, stabbed by a prince of hell. In some ways, Cas thought it was fitting. Dean met him in a barn after all. The beginning of the end. It didn’t matter now. He had said it. I love you. Yet somehow, Cas couldn’t even meet Dean’s eyes. He had a feeling the other man hadn’t gotten the real meaning behind his words. Not that it mattered. This was the end.

{Miraculously, Cas didn’t die. As Sam and Dean pulled him to his feet, all of his nerves were focused on the place where Dean’s hand held his. As the hunter let go, Cas chased his touch unconsciously, and felt Dean’s hand pivot back towards his and brush his skin again. His heart clenched painfully.

The Future

{“You know what, whatever. Welcome back.” Dean knew he wasn’t being fair, and he knew he was just making things worse, but he couldn’t stop. He was just so angry. He’d been worried sick about Cas and turns out... turns out the angel had just been ignoring him. It hurt like hell. He wanted... well that was the problem wasn’t it? He wanted. Dean rubbed his face and sighed. Just because you’re in love with the guy doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole, he told himself firmly. You wanted him back and now he’s back. Don’t be a dick.

{“It’s a gift. You keep those.” It was an olive branch, and Cas knew it. He was strangely relieved to be allowed to keep the mixtape. He remembered Dean giving it to him, and he remembered listening to it anytime he was driving alone. The music was... enjoyable. Cas found he liked the beats and the feel of it, but mostly he liked that Dean had given it to him. He was pleased to be allowed to keep it. Cas felt a surge of guilt about what he was about to do, but it had to be done. For the greater good, he told himself. He remembered repeating the same thing when he was working with Crowley all those years ago, and felt slightly sick. This time is different, he thought firmly. I’m not letting Dean do this. This... this is on me.

{“W-we?” “Yes dumbass, we.” Dean’s heart broke a little at the uncertainty in Cas’s voice. Sometimes the angel seemed seconds away from breaking, and Dean just wanted to grab him and hold him together. He pushed that feeling down, along with the way his chest ached with fondness at seeing Cas silhouetted in his doorway.

{“What the hell were you thinking?”

Dean shoved him up against the hotel wall as soon as he walked in, his arm warm against Cas’s chest. He hoped Dean couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating through the trenchcoat. Cas should really not be staring at Dean’s lips right now, but Cas has missed him so much and he wants so desperately. Sam called Dean over before Cas could do something he would regret. He ran a hand over his chest, aching and missing Dean’s angry warmth.

{“You’re hurt.” Cas reached out and touched Dean’s hand lightly, then slid up and wrapped his hand around Dean’s injured arm. It was not necessary to touch people to heal them, which Cas was hoping Dean hadn’t figured out yet. He drew his hand away slowly, and Dean looked down at his healed arm as though in awe. Cas couldn’t imagine why. He’d healed Dean countless times since they’d met.

All Along The Watchtower

{“Here Dean. Let me.” Cas touched two fingers to Dean’s head gently, and his leg healed at once. The cut on his cheek also stitched itself up. Dean felt his heart speed up a little as Cas drew his hand away, and Dean looked down, flustered. He sighed inwardly. He was a grown man, not a teenager with a crush. He didn’t get fucking butterflies. Except, apparently, he did.

{“No!” As Sam ran inside to find Jack and Kelly, Dean sank to his knees, overcome with grief. Their mom was in the other world with Lucifer, and Cas... Dean knelt next to the angel, too stunned to do anything. The outline of Cas’s wings stretched across the ground beside them, and Dean lowered his head. He felt hollow. He stood slowly, looking up at the sky. Cas had always loved the stars. Dean wanted to scream, to find God and rip him limb from limb, to do something other than sit here and drown in his sorrow, but he couldn’t. Dean looked down at Cas again. The angel’s eyes were closed. He was gone.

{Cas had felt the life drain out of him, felt his spirit fall into the earth and then sink beyond it. Now he felt nothing at all.

{Dean wished he could fly into the stars, find Chuck and make him bring Cas back. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything at all.

#supernatural #destiel #spn #deancas #castiel #supernatural thoughts #spn thoughts #spn season 12 #supernatural season 12 #lily sunder has some regrets #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas fanfiction #deancas fanfic #deancas fic

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castiel-kline · 4 years

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Jack knew that he had no more time, and also all the time in the world. He could be anywhere, and everywhere, at once. In everything. And he would give the world so much love, all the kindness he’d always wanted to give. Because all he’d ever wanted was to be good.

And now he could be. For everyone, forever. It felt peaceful. It felt right. But first, there were two people he wanted to see.

Heaven felt different, like this. Smaller, almost, though it wasn’t different. Jack was. But he glided through the halls to his mother’s door, materializing just in front of it. He pushed it open.

She was sitting in the garden from her childhood, just as beautiful as ever. Her dress was the same from the last time, white with flowers. The scene was as peaceful as Jack felt.

“Hi, mom,” he said, his voice quiet. Steady, even though he didn’t quite feel it. He was beyond the need for steady, now.

“Jack!” she gasped, scrambling up off the ground to come over to him. They hugged, Jack feeling his heart swell even more. He’d missed her everyday of his life. But now he realized that the people who touched your life, they were always with you. And they always would be.

“Jack?” Kelly asked, a hand cupping his cheek. She thumbed away a tear he didn’t realize was falling. “Baby, are you-”

He took her hands in his, smiling. It didn’t feel any different than the last time. “I’m good. I’m- I’m better than good. I have a lot to tell you.”

They sat on the stairs of Kelly’s childhood home, hand in hand. Roosevelt, the dog, ran around their feet for a while. Jack scratched behind the dog’s ears.

“So… you’re God now?”

“I don’t know.” Jack looked into his mother’s eyes, and he just saw love. No fear, no apprehension, no secrets. Just… love. Kind, like his mother, was all he’d wanted to be. “I don’t- I don’t think so. I’m just me.”

Kelly let out a laugh, soft and joyful, the sound one of the most beautiful things Jack had ever heard. “Just you is all you’ve ever needed to be, Jack. God, I’m so proud of you.”

Jack hugged her again, pressing his face into her shoulder.

“What do you do now?” she asked, pulling back and squeezing his shoulders.

“I don’t know. I think I just- exist. In everything, and in everyone. I want to make things better, but I don’t really know how.”

He didn’t feel any apprehension, though. He’d know what needed to be done, eventually. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it would be instinctive. It was the culmination of everything he’d learned, everything he’d ever loved and everything he’d ever lost. It was just… life.

“You’ll figure it out.” Kelly took his hands and squeezed. “I know you will.”

“Thank you.” Jack looked into her eyes, and he meant it. Every letter, every breath. There had been times where he’d wanted to die, or wished he was never born. All he ever seemed to do was hurt everyone around him. But now- he was happy. And he was so, so glad that he was here.

“Thank you, Jack. I always knew you were going to change the world.” Kelly laughed again, her smile brighter than the sun. Jack loved her so much.

“Do you- do you want to go back? I could send you back to earth, bring you back to life. The Winchesters could help you get started again.”

Kelly looked surprised, and bit her lip in thought. “No,” she said, slowly, like she wasn’t quite sure. “No,” she repeated, assured this time. “Thank you, sweetheart, but I’m- I’m good. I think my story’s over. Will you visit me?”

“Of course.” Jack smiled. He’d like nothing more. “But I’ll always be here, even when I’m not… here.”

“I know. But I still want to see you. There’s still so much I don’t know, so much we haven’t done. We’ve never read a book together, we’ve never had lunch-”

“We have time,” Jack assured. And because he’d never really been able to say it before, he added what had always been out of reach and longed for. “Mom. I promise we have time.”

“I love you, Jack.” Another smile, soothing his heart even further. He couldn’t wait to see it again.

“I love you too.”

Jack kissed her on the cheek, letting himself shimmer away and go where he willed himself, to the other person his heart longed to see. His peace and his mother’s love carried him like a leaf on the wind.

The Empty was quiet. It seemed like the Shadow had finally gone back to sleep. And the nothingness was much less daunting when Jack wasn’t just a boy anymore. He materialized in a crouch next to a familiar form sprawled on the ground, sleeping, trench coat splayed to the side.

“Castiel,” he whispered, and watched as his eyes sprung open.

Cas pushed himself to standing, looking around in fear. It was jarring to see him like that. Jack stood with him, waiting with a smile for when Castiel’s gaze landed on him.

“Jack?”

Jack could feel his smile cracking, some of that earthly pain dripping back in. When Dean came back without Cas, it had felt like… like a piece of his heart had just broken away. It was terrifying and painful and too little and too much all at once. But he was here now, and he got to see Cas again. He knew not everyone who lost someone got that chance.

“I missed you,” Jack said, stepping forward and burying his face in Cas’s shoulder. He didn’t cry, though he felt like maybe he wanted to. He was just happy. Like getting to hug Castiel again was a gift that healed him from the inside out.

Cas, to his credit, was hugging back just as fiercely. They pulled away, looking into each other’s eyes, the nothing around them forgotten. It was just the two of them.

“Jack, what are you-”

“We got him, Cas,” Jack said, proudly. “We defeated Chuck.”

A whisper of a smile crossed Castiel’s face, and then it fell. “Did you- no. No. You can’t be-”

“I took his power,” Jack continued. “He’s human, and that’s how he’ll stay. But now I’m-”

“You’re the Lord,” Cas breathed, and it sounded reverent. Jack didn’t like that.

“No. No, I’m not. I’m still just me. But I’m also- I’m everything. But I’m still…” I’m still your son.

Cas nodded, understanding dawning across his face. He reached out to squeeze Jack’s shoulder, hand warm and reassuring as always. “You’re still you.” A moment, then- “You know, your mother and I always believed that you’d bring paradise. And I always had faith that you’d manage it. I knew that your story would lead you here. And I am so, so proud of you. And Kelly- I know she’d be proud of you, too.”

Jack beamed. “I know. I saw her.”

Cas’s smile was easy, then. Soft and happy. “I’m glad.”

Happy.

Jack had so many questions.

“Can we talk?” he asked, looking up at his father.

“Of course,” Castiel said, and they sat down cross-legged in nothingness, facing each other.

“Sam and Dean, they’re safe?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. They’re safe.” Cas nodded, and Jack bit his lip. He shouldn’t feel nervous, not with everything new that he was now, but maybe there was still more of him left in him than he’d thought.

“Cas? Dean said- he said that you’d summoned the Empty. Was it- was it my fault that you died? What made you happy?”

“Oh, Jack, no. It’s not your fault. No, I- I suppose it’s mine.” Cas shrugged, looking up and around or maybe below and to the side. In nothing it was hard to tell. “I saw an opportunity to save Dean. To save all of you. And it would also stop Billie from finishing her revenge. And so I- well. I suppose I just let go. I think you know what that feels like. You seem… lighter.”

Jack nodded. He did get it. “I am, yes.”

Castiel smiled at him, so gentle and kind. Jack was proud to have learned that from him, too. “I’m glad.”

“Are you happy here? I know you don’t like this place.” Jack rested his hand on his knee, resisting the temptation to pick at his jeans.

“It’s less daunting, now. Somehow.”

“I could bring you back to life,” Jack offered. Just like he had to his mother. “Sam and Dean miss you. I know they’d be happy to have you back.”

“Thank you, Jack. But I- I’m very old. And I’m finally at peace. You know, just sleeping for a while- it doesn’t sound so bad. And besides.” Another lopsided grin. “You’re in charge now. And I have faith in you, Jack.”

Jack looked up at him, eyes shining. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for being my father.”

“Thank you for being my son.”

They smiled at each other, and Jack felt that shaky fragment of his heart knocked loose by loss stitched back into place. Secured where it belonged.

“What will you dream about?” he asked.

“Well, the Empty isn’t- we dream about regrets here, mostly. Mistakes. Maybe I won’t dream at all, I’m not quite sure.”

Jack frowned, and just like that there was a shift, a pop, and the nothingness was a little bit less heavy. Lighter, more peaceful, like the both of them. Like the darkness late at night when you turn off your last light to go to sleep. Soft, calm. Like a blanket, or the night sky.

“Not anymore,” Jack said. “Trust me. So- what will you dream about now? What do you want to see?”

“Oh…” Cas trailed his eyes around. “I guess… Heaven. Flying. Friends I’ve lost. Sam and Dean.” he looked up, eyes soft and glimmering with moisture, even with no light shining into them. “You.”

Jack smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“It does. Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome.” And, because he had time ahead of him for the first time, Jack thought he should add another word he’d always wanted to say but had always been stuck, hidden just out of reach. “Dad.”

Castiel’s smile was as bright as Kelly’s. “Jack, you- you don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to.”

“No, I think I do.”

“Okay.” Cas was still smiling, and it made Jack’s heart swell. Cas could finally be happy. “I love you, Jack. I know you will do amazing things. This world- we’re all so lucky to have you.”

“I love you too, Cas.” Jack shuffled over to lean into Cas’s side, resting his head on his father’s shoulder. They had time. Time to just be, and to be together. Jack wanted to enjoy every second.

After a while, Jack stood, and Cas followed him, a hand still settled on Jack’s shoulder.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” Jack said. He wasn’t sad, not really. He just… was.

“I know.” Cas gave his shoulder another affectionate squeeze. “And Jack? You can come wake me up any time you want to. I’ll still be here for you, if you need me.”

“I’d like that.”

“Until next time, then?” Cas asked.

Jack nodded. “Yes. Until next time.”

Jack watched as Castiel laid down and shut his eyes, a smile on his face. Jack would have to ask to hear the stories of his dreams the next time he visited.

Because he would- he’d visit his mother in Heaven, his father in the Empty, and the Winchesters on earth. Maybe he’d go see Rowena in Hell, or visit other people. Maybe people he didn’t know. Maybe he’d sit on the moon and watch the stars twinkle. He could go to space, like Star Wars!

Most importantly though, he was here. And he would keep the sun shining and the world turning and the people smiling.

Jack let himself be carried off again, dissipating into sparks and light and molecules. He was still him, but he was also… more. Built up and broken down and loved and lost and back again. He felt happy. He felt free.

Next stop- everywhere.

#spn 15x19 #spn spoilers #jack kline #castiel #kelly kline #y'all know i just HAD to write this #dadstiel and nougat son #coda!#spn fanfic #I am so proud of this boy ahhhhh #spn

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moeyy-writes · 4 years

Text

Here and Now - Part 1

Zak Bagans x Reader

Warnings: hints at family issues, mild fluff.

Word Count: 1,822

A/N: Great, what have I gotten myself into? This started as a random idea that was in no way planned. I didn’t even think it would be something worth posting. Now, it’s becoming a series that I’m praying I’ll be able to update regularly. I don’t really know where it’s going yet. I guess we’ll find out together. Please let me know what you think. Thanks!

My Master List || Also on AO3 || Series Master List

“Yes Mom.” You sighed. “No, I won’t be. I’ll be filming that week.” Another sigh. “No, I’m not going to be looking for another job.” You rolled your eyes and leaned your head back over the back of your folding chair. “Mom, this is what I want to do—Okay. Love you too.”

You tossed your phone over onto the table in front of you and sighed. You loved your parents, but they didn’t quite understand when you told them you were leaving your cozy job as a nurse to hunt ghosts. Your mom blamed your long-time friend, Jay Wasley, for “luring” you into the field. Every time you talked to her, she begged you to rejoin the medical field, but there was nothing that could convince you to do anything else than be a part of the Ghost Adventures team.

You loved joining the guys on investigations, being the main audio-visual tech for the last year. That allowed Billy and Jay to be more involved in the investigations, which was especially helpful when investigating the larger sites.

Not to mention, you were working with some of the nicest people you had ever met.

You never second guessed the career change. When the guys asked you to be a part of the team, you jumped on it without even giving it another thought. Jay and you had both taken film classes in college, but you changed majors after your family urged you to find something “more career friendly”. He knew you loved working with different types of cameras and had a very keen eye for the slightest hints of evidence on the screen. And the other men on the team couldn’t agree more.

As you let out a long sigh, you heard footsteps to your left. You glanced over to a tall, spiky-haired figure illuminated by the sun behind.

“Hey Zak,” you greeted the leader of your team. He lowered himself down into the chair beside you and smiled. His sunglasses were sliding down his nose, and the wide brim of his hat shielded your eyes slightly from the sun.

“Hey, what was all of that about?” he questioned, nodding towards your phone. You just shrugged and huffed out a frustrated breath.

“It’s just my mom. You know, same shit, different day. She’s constantly questioning my ‘career choice’ and telling me that I don’t know what I’m doing.” You closed your eyes. “She only sees a job for the money.”

Zak nodded. “Yeah, well some people see that. Some people do something because they know the pay check is going to be awesome, and the title is going to make them look good to everyone else.” You laughed.

“Yeah, well, the pay check isn’t too shabby for you, is it?” you both laughed and turned to the building in front of you. It was another location, and the interviews were going to start shortly. You decided to make a small station to set up and charge cameras between interviews, and keep a few pieces of equipment handy for any impromptu investigating.

You glanced away, trying to ignore the intense set of butterflies in your stomach whenever Zak was near you. Sure, you had met him several times before you became part of the team. Hell, he was one of the people who fought for your spot on the show. But, you didn’t know a whole lot about the man at your side. Jay had filled you in on the basics of his life, but that was about it. Sure, he was goofy, nerdy, and a little bit full of himself. But, he was also a kind and friendly guy, something you weren’t really expecting.

He had welcomed you with open arms, as they all did. He made sure that you always felt included when you wanted to be and checked in with you whenever there was an emotionally heavy case. You wouldn’t tell anyone in the media, but he was secretly the caretaker of the group.

So, it was no wonder he was sitting beside you after hearing your phone call. He could sense when something was off about a crew member. It was definitely something unique about Zak Bagans.

“Do you ever second guess being here? Leaving the nursing field?” You shook your head adamantly.

“Not for a second. I became a nurse because my dad is a doctor and pressured me into joining the same field. I liked it, don’t get me wrong, but I wanted to help people in another way.” You peered over at Jay, who was fiddling with Aaron’s camera. “Thanks to Jay, I’m here doing just that.”

“Well, we all agreed for you to join. To be honest, it’s been really nice having a different perspective on everything. You always find the best positions for the static-vision and x-cameras, and always find logical reasons for our equipment malfunctions. You have a gift, Y/N.” You could feel your cheeks redden at Zak’s words. You ran your fingers through your hair.

“Thanks, Zak. That means a lot.” Your gaze flicked back to your phone for a moment. “I know my parents love me and want what’s best for me. I just wish that they knew I’m at the age where I can find that out for myself.” Zak nodded, loosely crossing his legs.

“They do love you. There are plenty of people who love you, Y/N. And we’re all here for you.” You leaned back a little, raising a brow.

“Plenty of people? Like who?” Your heart fluttered, secretly wondering if he was implying something more behind his words. Could he be? No, not Zak. That wasn’t like him.

Zak smirked. “Well, I freaking hope you know by now that the crew loves you. Jay’s known you for what, at least a decade? More? Aaron and you have that never-ending prank war thing that I swear is going to be the death of one of you. From the second time you met, I knew you were pretty much platonic soulmates. And watching you and Billy geek out over equipment together makes me smile. Nerds.”

You nodded, practically beaming. Zak always knew what to say and when to say it, at least most of the time.

“And I think you’re a great addition to the team. You’re smart, fun to be around. It’s like you’ve been with us since the beginning.” You didn’t know what else to do but smile. Where the hell was all of this coming from? Sure, Zak was usually sweet and uplifting, but this was a lot coming from him. He was rarely this intense.

“That means a lot, Zak. I’m really glad to be working with everyone. I really do love you all too.” You and Zak stared at each other for a moment before he spoke again.

“You know, you’re really a special person, Y/N. Your parents know that, the team knows that, And I definitely know that.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, then cleared his throat. Was he nervous? Zak Bagans, nervous? Huh.

“Uh, thanks Zak. Really.” He was kind of repeating himself, like he was trying to hint at something he was too afraid to say. You had never heard him talk like this before. He was always super straightforward and blunt, never talking in code or hiding meaning behind his words.

“And, I was wondering if you were, um, interested in hanging out more outside of here? You know, outside of the show?” You furrowed your brow.

“We do hang out. I mean, we all meet for lunch or dinner, and meet at each other’s houses—”

“I know, but I meant you and me. You know, just the two of us.” Your brow shot up as your stomach swirled.

“Um, are you asking me out Mr. Bagans?” No fucking way. He couldn’t be. There’s no way Zak Bagans would be asking you out.

“Yep. Yeah, I am.” Oh, you stood corrected.

“Well, I, uh, yeah. That sounds awesome.” You studied his confident smirk.

Zak nodded to himself. “Awesome,” he repeated. “Let’s focus on this lockdown, then we’ll work out the details. But, I know of a great place I want to bring you to.” He reached over and gently placed his hand on top of yours.

You flipped your hand over and wrapped it around his. “I can’t wait.” And that was the God-honest truth. Your whole life flipped in the best possible way over the last several minutes, and your head was reeling as you tried to accept your new reality.

You were dating, or about to date, Zak Bagans.

“Hey, Zak, we’re almost ready to go!” Jay called over. Zak perked his head up.

“I’ll be right there!” He squeezed your hand, then pulled away. As he stood, he offered his award-winning smile, then made it over to his friends.

You really needed to get your camera ready, but you couldn’t move. Your brain was still struggling to process. Not only was this whole thing something you never dreamed of, it completely came out of left field. Zak was a natural flirt, but you didn’t think he flirted with you more than any other woman he met. He was respectful, avoiding any type of sexual jokes, and making sure he called out the others if anything made you noticeably uncomfortable. That was half the reason your brain was still currently malfunctioning.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, shocking you from your thoughts. You unlocked your phone and opened your messages.

New Message: Jay Wasleyyyy

You studied the message, which was a simple thumbs up emoji. You glanced up at your buddy, who shared your gaze, standing beside a grinning Aaron. Great. Sure, Jay knew about how you felt towards Zak. It was hard to keep it a secret sometimes, especially from someone who had known you as long as Jay did. He obviously knew that Zak was up to something too. Sneaky bastard.

But, now Aaron wasn’t going to leave you alone about it. Joy. All you needed was your goofy friend poking at you as singing ridiculous songs about love and shit.

Another message pinged, forcing you to glanced back down at your phone.

New Message: Zak Attack

It was another wordless message, with a black heart and a winking face emoji. Totally Zak’s dorky yet oddly suave style.

You stared at the message, suddenly giddy with excitement. Now that your brain had come back down to Earth, you were nothing but excited about what was to come. You had no idea what Zak had up his sleeve, or how the two of you were going to do in a romantic relationship, but there was an odd exhilaration in not knowing.

With a long exhale, you silenced your phone and slipped it into your pocket. Then, you lifted your camera from the table in front of you and headed off to join your team.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated! <3

#zak bagans #zak bagans x reader #zak bagans and reader #zak x reader #zak bagans x reader fluff #zak bagans series #zak bagans x reader series #aaron goodwin #jay wasley #billy tolley #ghost adventures #gac #zak bagans reader insert #ghost adventures imagine #ghost adventures series

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rankdisasster · 5 years

Text

old habits die hard

Billy Hargrove x fem reader

“what about a first time having unprotected sex with billy when y'all are married?? I have a hc that he's really safe !!!!!because safe sex is important!!! so when he'd marry his girl the first time without a condom would be a big deal” requested by anonymous.

word count: 2,840

warning(s): nsfw, swearing

a/n: yes I do write smut for anyone wondering, and this is like my first legit wack at a full on filthy one-shot buuuut! I hope this is okay??

—

Heaven. That’s just what you and your marriage together is for Billy. Heaven wasn’t some bearded white dude with a halo on a boring cloud, it was the perfection between his wife’s thighs. It was his wife’s mouth and all the tricks you did to drive him off the rails with it, it was your dirty talk while you teased him relentlessly even when he begged for you to take him all the way. Your body was his fucking sanctuary, plain and simple.

Yours and Billy’s sex life was held mostly in the hands of Billy, given that he’d known all there is to get the best out of it. Let’s just put it this way: he was the Stephen fucking Hawking in the sheets, and he took that gold metal with pride. Billy was no amateur, he wasn’t just an encyclopedia for making sex as hot and exciting as it could be, but he also happened to be safe about it. That’s what truly makes him the best, that he knows all the risks, and does great lengths to avoid accidental pregnancies or other consequences that may occur. He’d still make sure you were having fun, and he’d spend chunks of money from his paycheck nearly every week on condoms for you both, stocking up and hiding them somewhere inconspicuous in every single room. The pull out method just never worked for Billy, mostly because it’s too risky and he doesn’t trust himself when he’s about to blow to do it anywhere else not in you.

So that’s why he nearly choked on the coffee he had gulped at the exact moment that you said you wanted to try taking him raw this time tonight.

Coughing and stuttering like a bafoon, he finally clears his throat and recovers from you nearly killing him, and then stares.

“What? We’ve fucked just about every other way imaginable, why not try it out?” you stick your bottom lip out, pleading as you go up to him closer and closer. So close that he feels the hairs behind his neck stand up and goosebumps forming when your hot breath fans his ear.

Billy closed his eyes and takes a deep breath before setting his coffee down on the table. He refuses to lose his composure, and knows that there’s so much that could go wrong without using protection. “Don’t do that.”

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of doing, baby. I’m not doing anything,” you chuckle. Your hands crawl up his broad chest and even run over his hardened nipple through his shirt, and now he fucking regrets not wearing a tank top underneath. Slowly losing control over what his wife is doing to him, he tries to speak as you trail itty bitty kisses on his ear before biting it, making him sigh out a small “ahh” and losing his train of thought.

You kiss everywhere and anywhere you can get your paws on, persuading him with your body and your words.

“Mm, I mean think about it, B. We’ve got it all. A home with all this space, decent careers. Hell, since we got hitched my parents have even encouraged this,” you rub your hands down his back.

“Don’t you dare bring up your parents right now while I’m getting hard.”

“Hey, I’ve been riled up this whole time, so you can—“

Billy took your head in his hands and smashed your lips together, swirling his tongue with yours. Without any more convincing needed on his end, he effortlessly hitched you up in his arms and carries you to the couch. Unwilling and too impatient to take this upstairs, he could’ve fucked you right there on the floor and still be perfectly sated.

“Knew you didn’t have it in you,” you grin, before he sucks on your tongue again and pulling away for two seconds before telling you to shut the fuck up. He’s so ready to get down and dirty already, but he knows that that’s no way to fuck his wife. No no, what he’s gonna do is get back at you for making him choke on his coffee and not asking him about this in a professional manner. God, he swears he loves you more than anything, but sometimes, knowing the affect you have on him, he fucking hates you for using it all to his advantage.

Billy’s cock is like an annoying exclamation point in his jeans, and he thanks himself for going commando on the daily. He throws his belt harshly to the ground, the leather and buckle landing with a loud rattle and a thwack. You widen your eyes and let out a laugh in disbelief at his temper.

“Holy shit, you’ve got to calm down. You’re at a ten, and I’m gonna need you at like a seven.”

Billy growls like a jealous mutt, desperately picking at your items of clothing to be taken off for him to get down to playing with what’s his.

“Calm down, you’re telling me to fucking calm down after what you’ve done? Why don’t you take off your clothes already, or am I gonna have to do all this myself?”

Once in every while your husband gets so unbelievably bratty and childish when he’s horny that he’ll snap at you for taking your time, or even making fun of him in the heat of the moment. He’s dramatic now, but once he comes he’ll be back to normal and laughing about it later.

“Okay, okay, Mister Bossy. Take the piss out of it,” you grumble, still just as ready to feel Billy as he is to get inside you. You take time unbuttoning your flannel that you stole from your husband, getting stuck on the fourth button. Billy has to take the time to palm himself through his jeans for some sort of relief. He then rolls his eyes and whines after forty five seconds had gone by and you’ve somehow mysteriously forgotten how buttons work.

“Come the fuck on, babe, I’m kinda gonna bust on my own here.”

“I’m trying!”

“Not hard enough! You know what? Forget it,” he pulls the flannel down enough to expose your under shirt then pulls that down too. Exposing your breasts to his delight, he finally fucking gets to get his hands on you and he doesn’t wait around. He smiles like a maniac and puts his head down to nuzzle himself between your breasts, sucking absentmindedly on each one and then playing with them. You hum as he gives you the good treatment, sloppy kisses being plotted on the valley of your chest. After Billy feels like he’s had his fix, he moves on to pull your sweats off and rub you through your underwear. You’d gotten so goddamn soaked to the point of feeling the pool of it seeping through your panties. It nearly gives Billy fucking heart palpatations, seeing his absolute favorite sight of his wet wife all for him and his dick only.

Billy possessively, even devilishly, loves the idea of this belonging to his eyes and his touch only. No other bastard on planet earth is as lucky as he is, finding you, picking you. Hell, especially marrying you.

He has to swallow the drool that’s nearly started just looking at the gorgeousity. Without any further ado, he takes the hem of your underwear and plucks them right off, then discreetly puts them in his back pocket of his jeans for later. Pulling back to marvel at the sight of his beautiful wife with her tits hanging out of her flannel, otherwise completely bare for him to take her. Out of purely routine, he reaches for the pack of condoms that were hidden for you both underneath the couch cushion, until you grab his arm and shake your head with your teeth nibbling your bottom lip.

“Right. Sorry. Old habits die hard I guess,” he laughs, as giddy as a schoolboy looking up a girl’s skirt. He undoes his jeans and sheds them, fully remembering the gift he had snatched for himself still crumbled up in his back pocket. His middle finger has taken to rhythmic patterns on your clit before swooping down to you for a hot kiss.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous as always, babe. Married a goddamn pornstar, didn’t I?” he goes in for more, the sound of your lips smacking and your breathy groans to be heard throughout the living room. He switches his technique and swirls his pointer and middle fingers through your gushing slit and bringing it back up to your clit. You grind more into his hand as he takes your breast with his other hand that’s not driving you insane right about now.

“God, baby. I want — I want more, please? I need —“

“You gonna be good for me, hm? Gonna take it, and be more respectful next time you ask me for somethin’?”

“Yes! Yes I will, I am!” you almost want to fucking slap him for the sheer torture he’s putting you through, but it could be served as karma for what you did. But sue you if you weren’t gonna beat around the bush, okay? You’re straight up about what you want and when you want it from your husband. He’s even said before that that’s a quality he loves about you. He’s just as bratty and needy as you can be, which is what makes you the impeccable couple.

“That’s my girl. It’ll all happen soon, just be good,” he murmurs, gradually slowing down his fingers from you and then taking them out, giving them a lick. While maintaining eye contact, he takes the two fingers that had just been all over your clit, and sucks them hard in his mouth all the way down his knuckle. Satisfied with the wound up reaction he got outta you, he keeps one hand on your tits while the other snakes down to his own zipper. When he pulls it down, already exposing his junk given that since you two had been hitched he’d solemnly swear to go commando, always ready to give it to his needy baby. As he still palms your breast and pinches at your nipple, he starts to slowly jack himself slow and steady. Like he’s feeling Jesus, the man closes his eyes and stutters a sigh at how fucking amazing you make him feel.

You involuntarily open your legs wider, hoping the invitation will entice him to get busy and start fucking you raw, but the sight only motivates him to speed his own strokes on himself. Frustrated at the lack of attention you’re receiving, you huff and shove him with all the strength you have in your legs off of the couch. Billy is flown to the carpet floor, livid and cursing up a storm, which you expected and prepared for. He was just being a drama queen as always, and you order him to shut his nagging up before joining him on the floor and pulling him on top of you.

“Fucking brat,” he taunts adjusting you more to be perfectly open and ready underneath him.

“No, you are! I wasn’t just gonna sit there while you play with yourself,” you spit back, before both of you pause to start cracking up. He covers his face in his hands as his shoulders shake with every laugh, and you mirror his attitude.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Billy reminds you, giving your nose a kiss.

“We’ve been married for three years, Billy. I think I might know that by now,” you tease, patting his cheek with your palm before accepting another kiss. This one is much less hurried and dirty, but more tender and loving. It’d be sweet if he wasn’t about to fuck you bare on the floor for the first time in your entire marriage.

Billy lines up as he blows you a kiss, watching your facial expressions like a hawk to read how you’re feeling as he peeks just the tip through. He takes more time to run his dick along your entire slit to loosen you up a bit, and give your clit the attention it starves for. When he actually slides in, as bare as he was born, he furrows his brows and drops his jaw at the beautiful warmth. Having done this with a rubber like the million other times you’ve fucked, of course it satisfied him, felt just as amazing. But the extra intimacy being shared here is driving more and more blood down south far more rapidly than ever before, and he really has to clench and keep himself together to not ruin it by blowing his load early.

Your face says you’ve been dicked down to paradise, having an innocent open mouth smile appear as you groan at the fullness taking up your pussy. Billy is slow about picking up the pace, not wanting to turn into an animal quite yet, still enjoying the feeling of his wife’s bare wet cunt swallowing him up. Once he’s balls deep inside, so far and so big that he sees himself through your stomach, that’s when he starts to get a little more excited.

“Fuck, I love this pussy more than anything in the world,” he grunts, pulling all the way out and doing a rundown with his cock on your clit. He takes a moment to look downward at your joining togetherness, the picture so beautiful and right and wrong that he moans louder before needing to squeeze his eyes shut. After he’s got a better grasp on control, he then bows his head down low and spits a good amount down onto his cock, lubing you up way more than necessary. With the extra kick and slide that it gave the two of you, he starts not holding anything back. And then your husband goes to fucking town with his hips.

Billy starts getting real creative when building up more and more during this stage of sex, now doing figure eight’s with his cock inside you. He even starts pulling out of you to grind his length up and down, then repeating. Soon your howls and his yells as well as the fucked up and half assed dirty talk is all to be heard. Along with the slapping of flesh, which is music to Billy’s ears. He’s spouting nonsense about how heavenly your cunt feels wrapped around him, tight and nice. You’ve started grinding back into his thrusts, and like fucking rabbits, you both stutter a warning to the other about how close each of you are getting.

“Baby, ohmygod— so fuckin’ good, I’m gonna cum inside you, gonna give you all my damn kids, I don’t give a damn. You feel so amazing,” his hips go as fast as he can physically pull off, and you whine as he comes down to you and gives you a kiss that’s mostly just sharing his saliva.

“Ahh — I’m so close, it’s—“

“Do it, do it baby. Cum on your husband’s cock,” he begs, pace stuttering before he finally stills. With a low hum from you and a noisy groan from a very sweaty Billy, the ribbon finally snaps in both of you. He bursts, still staying deep inside you as his fingers fervishly rub the fuck out of your clit to help you find your orgasm on his dick. You squeeze around him while on cloud nine, making him yelp and milk more out of him that he didn’t know he had.

“Shit,” he sighs, not yet pulling out of you before wiping his forehead off and doing the same for you. You whimper at the emptiness when does, you and your husband trying to catch your breath. When he looks down he smirks at his scene of the crime dripping all the way down out of you. Without saying anything, he scoops it back up and rubs your clit another couple times, then copying his actions from earlier and sucking his fingers clean.

“I fucking loved that. If you’re knocked up right now, that’s not stopping me from doin’ that again,” he laughs, laying down beside you and taking your jaw before giving you a good loving post-sex kiss.

“Mm, I liked it too. Billy, I don’t wanna get up, can you grab me my panties? They’re around here somewhere,” you lazily point to the couch and the floor around you. Billy then snatched you up off the floor, you still very naked and filled save for his flannel. He tosses you on the bed as you land with a bounce and a giggle. Your husband throws you a water bottle and you catch it. Both of you chug more than half of it down as you still await for him to follow through with your request.

“Nope. No idea where they went, actually. Sorry babe,” he answers, casually throwing his jeans in the laundry basket you share and smirking to himself at the present still sitting in his back pocket.

—

I also hc Billy as a dude that takes his s/o’s underwear after sex lmao. oh if anyone’s wondering what im up to writing: I have 1k on the next chapter of girl next door and I’m still working on several asks:)

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #billy hargrove imagine

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basilone · 4 years

Note

Okay, you really can ignore this one, because now I'm just being obnoxious - if you were to pick a god-chosen member or members of the Girl Gang? (I'm very curious.)

I don’t think you’re being obnoxious whatsoever, so I’m going to indulge a little.. Thank you for gifting me with so many nice things for my Author’s Q&A!!

It’s funny, but the first one who really came to mind was Molly. Tough as nails and practical about it, one would say, except that she’s entirely too steeped in storytelling and can make entire histories come alive with just a few well-chosen phrases. Calls it as she sees it, but may get emotional about it. One for the books: not Wisdom, not Wisdom’s brother Knowledge either, but Truth is what thunders through Molly’s veins.

Eileen is hot on her heels, all airs and determination married to something flashy and teasing-like-so. Capable of mimicking just about anyone and anything, she’s quick to get a read on people and even quicker to smile a let’s-get-into-trouble smile about it. Some god called Seduction may be her wheelhouse, or so a lot of folks suspect, but Eileen laughs that one off the second she hears it. Remains entirely mum about who chose her, though, and sometimes I think even she might not know the real answer to that..

Third dead ringer for it, of course, is Joan. Sharp-eyed, quick on her feet, and chosen in a way that’s got Lewis Nixon’s eyes on her with every step she takes. Lew’s not in the game for himself, not really, but he sees something familiar in the set of her shoulders and absolutely itches for a drink once he sees the same lines appear in Dick’s poise. Lew likes to try and tease it out of her -- let loose, Joan, let ‘em have it -- but Joan keeps her counsel a little too wisely to be talked into that sort of thing.

Finally, Harry Welsh knows for a fact that he is not chosen. He doesn’t want to be (who’s got the time to deal with all of that? not Harry) but he loves a girl who very much is. When he writes to Kitty after meeting the gang of girls in the paratroopers, he’s careful to describe each of them in a way that will allow Kitty to weigh them. Kitty writes back, all dark scribbles in confirmation of Harry’s hunches until her script stutters on the page and all she has written in a shaky hand is “please place Irene with an Earth-chosen, she needs the anchor” before the next line stops him dead in his tracks. Kitty’s kind words but in an unfamiliar hand, all looping letters and harsh lines, telling him “Billie is going to need you, Harry, and please bring Ron Speirs with you when she does”.

#the long bright dark #tlbd questions #girl gang shenanigans #hahaha I couldn't help but tease it out a bit?#you did ask -- it's fun to be in your sandbox for a change!#mercurygray #formvoidseries

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bigsisterbabysitter · 5 years

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His Girl 》Part 1

Promt: What happens when Billy survives the Mindflayer, he was trying to change himself and now his mind is broken. But a sunny girl brings light to his life when he thought he'd never see it again a girl who's been through the same events. Both dealing with their Truama they are drawn to eachother in more ways than just friendship.

Paring: Billy x Henderson!Reader

Warnings: blood, mentions of truama, mentions of abuse

Prologue:

She had worked at this dingy Gastation since Senior year, taking shifts when she can but after the summers passed events... She took up the shift nobody wanted the shift from 8pm to 5am. She couldn't sleep not soundly, not at night. Night terrors left her screaming and crying it got so bad she briefly had to sleep on the floor of her little brothers room just to be sure he was safe. But soon as his Freshmen year rolled in Dustin requested his space, she kindly gave it to him not wanting to add to his own stress.

So there she stood behind the clerk's counter her head down on her arms at 3am as she stretched her aching back. No one had been in for a good hour and a half but then as luck would have it the familiar chime of the door sounded and she stood up right and was met with a familiar tired face.

Billy Hargrove the man who lived being torn apart by the Mindflayer before her very own eyes walked up to the counter his hair a mess eyes bloodshot and bagged. He walked more sunken into himself. It was clear he hadent been sleeping. It had been like this the past 2 months. It was almost mid October and once he was healed he was given the okay to return home... like nothing happend. So he started to come to the little gastation in the center of town to buy a pack of cigarettes and a warm smile from the young woman whom his Step Sister adored.

"Its been a few days" the woman comments sliding him his normal pack of cigarettes along with the ashtray that sat beside her register. He gave a gruff thanks before slipping her the cash and opening the pack. Lighting one up he took a deep inhale and slowly blew out warm grey smoke. Y/N eyed him and took the cigarette from between his fingers as he leaned against the counter and took a drag herself tapping the ash into the tray on the counter between them.

"Been busy" he mutters his fingers playing with the loose edge if her countertop absently Y/N handed the cigarette back blowing out the smoke with a nod "understandable" she says to him. Walking from around the counter she strolls to the cooler pulling a coke she walks back her light wash jeans sar high waisted with a plain white tshirt tucked in to them and a sunny yellow cardigan that was a size to big on her smaller frame hung over her hands slightly. Setting the drink down before him "on the house. You look rough" she states

Her comment elects a smirk from the mans lips. "Thanks Henderson" he cracks it open taking a long drink. The unusual pair had grown close due to his nightly visits. They were each a welcomed destraction to one and other. She bites her lip in the comfortable silence the radio playing some newer song softly over the speakers neither if them really listened they just looked at eachother quietly. Finally Billy pipes up "why are you so nice to me" he asks I a serious tone.

Since the incident over the summer Billy's mind was in pieces, a shell of the man he used to be. He had been trying to change his ways once he realized he had started to become his father pointed out by Max when he showed up the the Byers house in a rage to find her after he and Harington went a few rounds she stuck a needle in his neck and threatened his manhood with a spiked bat. Then the worst thing happened some crazy demon shadow whatever he didnt know exactly still to this day had take over him. Made him do horrible things worse than ever before... it almost killed him, sometimes he could still feel it as if it was still inside his body cold and lying in wait.

Y/N didnt answer right away she glanced at the man. At first when he had showed up he bullied her friends, beat the hell out of Steve and scared the fiery red head she knew as Max half to death so she wasnt was welcoming in the beginning. But she started to see his change and that summer she had planned to make peace but then things took a turn when he was possessed.

She didnt really know the reason why. Maybe it was because she saw him fight to save them, maybe she saw the fear that lingered in his eyes, maybe it was the fact that as much as she hated it she had fallen for the Son of a Bitch once he started comming around during her night shift she finally speaks "because where you see a monster o see a hero" she chews her lower lip thoughtfully a moment "you're not a bad person. Not any more you came to terms with your mistakes and you have begun to mend them" she reaches out touching his forearm with a soft hand over his leather jacket "what happend to you over the summer.. that thing.. that wasnt you and it was not somthing you could control. I want tou to remeber that" her words were reassuring to the Male and she glanced over catching Y/E/C eyes with his own deep blue ones and nodded slowly content with her answer for now. He ran a hand through his messy blonde curls once again with a sigh

She gave him a sad smile as he looked away "hey anytime you need light conversation day or night I'm your girl" she nudged him playfully nit really hearing her own words at first. Those words.. 'His girl' it made him smile and look at the floor "thanks kid" he said softly and shoved his hands in his pockets "I'll see ya around Y/N" he says walking to the door she gave a small wave "See ya around Billy" God the way her gift voice said his name his heart skipped a beat

Chapter one, Pebbles at the Window:

It was mid Febuary so it was brisk outside. Valentines day had gone and passed leaving Y/N relieved." it was a stupid hallmark holiday anyway", she had pouted as her brother had rolled his eyes "well maybe to tou because you're single I have Susie" and with that he had went off to call her. So now at 1am she lays on her bed spread feet against the head board wearing a tshirt that's too big, a pair of Y/F/C panties and some warm wool socks that scrunched up at the ankles. A magazine in her face she paused hearing a soft tink sound against her window. She sat up slowly and stared at it. Again. Tink. She stood up and walked over moving the curtains aside slight fear in her eyes and confusion.

Her look soon turned to horror at what she saw. Bellow in the faint light she saw it. Billy Hargrove in a pair of sweat pants and a leather jacket with no shirt beneath it. His face was bleeding and starting to bruise. He looked scared. Y/N flew to the door quickly throwing it open to find him now standing on the porch. He said nothing he walked straight to his friend and wrapped his arms around her making her gasp softly

They stood embracing eachother for several moments in the open doorway her arms wrapped around his neck and he held her close around the waist his face buried in her hair as he tried not to cry. She shushed him softly stroking his blonde curls with one hand. Her legs were bear and feeling the cold but she didnt care she held him tightly his exposed chest was freezing she could feel it through the thin fabric of her night shirt finally she pulled him inside and shut the door softly whispering as not to wake her mother and brother in their rooms. "Billy what on earth happend??" She asked leading him to her room sitting on her bed. But really she already knew. For months Max had been confiding in her, scared for her Step Brothers life as his father was psychotic.

Their relationship had improved greatly and he had grown protective of his Step sister so when Neil came after her about being around Lucus again Billy wasn't having it. He told Max to go to her room as he took the beating leaving her crying scared he would die for a moment. But after Neils anger was gone Billy got up, reassured her that he was going to a friends while Neil passed out drunk on the couch. And now hear he was. He looked up at the woman before her, the woman he had grown to care a lot about and just took a shakey breath explaining it all. Y/N gathered supplies shaking with rage as she cleaned him up. That's it she wasnt having it any longer they needed help. After cleaning him up giving him a glass of water and Apsrin she made him lay down "no if and or buts Hargrove you are sleeping here tonight" she snaps pulling the covers over his waist once his boots and jacket were off. She climbed in beside him laying on her side and he slowly turned over to look at her with a heavy heart. "Thank you Y/N" he said softly his eyes glassy with tears. She reached a soft hand out to him causing him to flinch. She cupped his jaw softly "Any time Billy" he whispered back. That night was the first night in months either of them slept through the night.

When morning arrived Billy woke up alone and confused looking around the young womans room. Climbing out of bed sorrly he paused catching a glimpse of himself in her full length mirror. Scars from the mindflayer attack ran jagged across his muscular chest. His left cheek bone held a large blueish black bruise that went up under his eye which thankfully wasnt swollen. He sighed heavily running the back of his neck and opened the door curiously looking up and down the hallway "Y/N?" He whisper yelled. Then he heard something and paused. Laughter from the kitchen. Carefully he walked down the hall twords the sound and found Y/N and his step sister cooking lunch. When Max spotted him she gasped and ran over hugging him tightly Y/N smiled softly Billy stroked the younger teens hair "I'm alright" he promised "what's going on?" He looked confused

Max spoke before Y/N could "Y/N called in a favor from Hoppers friends!!" She pulled away looking up "Neil got taken into custody this morning my mom was a bit upset as shes being questioned since she never reported anything" she bit her lip "But they are gonna take care of everything and Ms.Henderson said we can stay here until it all blows over!" Y/N just smiled down at the pan with the grilled cheese sandwich she was flipping and stired the pit of tomato soup.

Billy just looked shocked he walked over grabbing Y/N by the shoulders spinning her around "Thank you" tears fall from his eyes and he Grips her tight "thank you so much" Y/N just smiled "any time Billy I'll always be there"

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #slow burn #stranger things x reader

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cannotgiveafuck · 5 years

Text

Shazam week prompt 3

Hey yall! Guess who couldn't finish the prompts on time last week? Its me! I'm gonna do em anyway!

Prompt 3: Dress Up

---

Billy knew what others thought of him and Captain Marvel. He wasn't as stupid as they thought.

Of the League that knew, and after the shock had worn, majority had settled on viewing him as a child playing dress up. When they interacted with Captain Marvel, they didn't see him as a hero for pantheons of Gods' will, as an avatar that had experience from dozens of previous lives, or even as someone who had already been in the hero business for several years. Even though he stood at over six feet with a physical build to match Superman's, the others still treated him like he was that undernourished kid in a baggy hoodie, like he was less than their teenage sidekicks.

They didn't understand.

When Billy played dress up, it was never with a cape. He never pretended to be a superhero.

[MORE]

-x-

In hindsight, Billy should have been a bit more aware of his situation from the start. Maybe then he would have caught on a bit earlier and gotten out of this on time.

As it were, however, he was good and trapped.

Not physically, of course. Because he could always get away if he needed to. But socially…

That would either mean alerting his not-quite-kidnapper of his plan when he said his quick goodbyes, thus giving the man the opportunity to plan another course of action, or that meant Billy unceremoniously leaving without any goodbyes. And Billy liked to think he had enough manners to warrant proper departures for his friends.

Were they his friends?

He liked to think so.

Though they did help orchestrate his kidnapping.

"You are supposed to go into the water, Batson. That is how water parks function. Unless you lack the basic skill of swimming, which I should not be surprised at, since you lack a lot of skills."

Thoughts startled, Billy looked up at Damien, arms crossed and face carefully blank except for his glare. Or he was just staring really intently. Billy didn't think the other boy had any other expressions besides varying degrees of annoyance and murderous.

"Says the guy just as dry as I am," Billy said, holding back a pout and going for unbothered. The kid was a freaking ninja.

Damien scoffed, but did not deny that statement. A short silence fell between them, but it was far from the cold or intensely invasive inspection Billy was subjected to when Damien first learned of Captain Marvel's identity.

Billy liked to think they were starting to get along now.

"Besides," and here was where Billy's hubris shone, he couldn't resist a good teasing. "How am I supposed to relax when I've been kidnapped?"

Damien's glare, if possible, became even more poisonous at Billy's cheeky smile. Good thing Robin couldn't shoot lasers. "This is hardly a kidnapping. You willing joined us."

At that, Billy really did pout. "It's not really willing if I'm shoved into a jet and no one told me where we were going."

The eyebrow raise spoke volumes of how lousy an excuse Damien thought of that. A trait he probably learned from Bruce. And Billy could not help but laugh. Despite his efforts, Damien could be very expressive, and often showed more than he wanted to.

Or maybe it was just what Billy picked up on.

He was good at reading people, he knew that. It helped that one of his favorite pastimes was people watching. With a quick glance, Billy noted the locations of everyone else. Their life energies easy to find from the crowd, all of them bright and flaring and something Billy fully memorized, took comfort in.

"I guess there are worse places to be fake kidnapped, though."

Koriand'r was easy to spot, her energy constantly blazing, but invitingly warm, in the corner of his periphery. She was currently enjoying the hot tub with Dick and Roy. Somewhere at the lazy river, Jason was enjoying his giant margarita. Connor was also easy to find, his energy similar to Clark's. Him and Tim were going for their fifth ride down the giant tube slide. Clark had managed to convince Bruce to join him at the bar side pool, both of them saturated, both of them carrying mantles everyone knew and believed in.

(Belief was a powerful kind of energy, when channeled properly. Though, Billy didn't think either of them really knew about all that. Not when they had their own strengths.)

This was probably the safest place to be on Earth, in the whole Galaxy, and yet…

And yet.

"Okay, well, I'll at least take a look at everything first," he said, finally moving off his beach chair at the poolside.

Bruce had rented the cabin rooms at the far end, a place specifically for their group, so as to not worry about scrounging for seating. But still, Billy worried. What if someone took their stuff? It seemed highly unlikely, but one could never be too sure. Not that Billy doubted Clark and Bruce to take care of everything, to have been extra prepared with security or whatever. They were keeping aware of everyone even now, but…

Being willingly barefoot on the wet ground was a new thing, but Billy had just been gifted the sandals currently under his chair and they still felt odd on his feet. Unsecure and flimsy. He was never one for sandals anyway, when he had a cheap and sturdy pair of sneakers to last him. The swim trunks, as well, were new and strange feeling, but he couldn't do much about that since he didn't have anything else. Well, nothing that was already his. There were clothes that fit suspiciously well folded in the drawer of the hotel room he was sharing with Damien. The only thing originally his was the white tshirt he was currently wearing.

Since he could not very easily walk around bare chested without raising alarms. People tended to notice large scars on children. Especially when those people were concerned heroes and they hadn't yet been told about it.

"You've patrolled the parameters several times already," and Billy was sort of surprised Damien had followed, had stuck around this long. Though he was less surprised at the other boy's perceptiveness. "Do you doubt my father's preparation for our staying here?"

That was more an accusation than question, but Billy didn't rise to the bait. "Of course not," his tone edged on lighthearted and exasperated. It was easier to tell others what they wanted than to explain everything, anyway. "Besides, we're in a room full of superheroes. I'm not patrolling, I'm surveying."

That was a lie.

Damien was right, after all. Billy wasn't looking at the rides or the lounging spots, or seeking out social interactions - he was patrolling. He needed to ensure the area was safe, because yes, Superman could punch a bad guy through the roof, and Batman probably had every protocol prepared on hand, but just in case…

What if someone had violent intentions and hurt a civilian? What if a magical attack was brewing? What if a curse was placed on them all? There were so many things that could happen while they enjoyed their vacation.

So many things could go wrong if Billy let his guard down, if he prioritized himself over his duty as Marvel, over the protection of others.

"You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?" Billy looked back at Damien. The boy looked more grumpy than he had several minutes ago, like he didn't choose to follow Billy around.

There was a shriek in the distance and Billy immediately turned his head.

Damien grumbled in a language Billy did not catch, but knew Captain Marvel would have.

Billy focused back onto him after confirming it was just some kids on the raft slide.

Maybe it was the harsh smell of chlorine or the absolute relaxation on everyone's faces, maybe it was the shorts that felt unfamiliar or the fact he couldn't see all exits from one spot. It was like an itch he couldn't help but scratch, but it only got worse.

"Come," Damien demanded, walking away and fully expecting Billy to follow.

He did not.

"You cannot stop yourself from being unnecessary, you might as well do it effectively."

That still did not persuade Billy to follow.

"I'm saying I know where the best place in this room is! You can see majority of the entrances and exits, except for the two closest to Kent and my father."

What did that have to do with-

"Oh," Billy followed.

"The chances of us being attacked are incredibly slim, and of those chances my father and I are rightfully prepared. I admit that even Kent has his uses." This was the most Damien had ever spoken to Billy. And Bruce wasn't even forcing him to. "But there is no such thing as being overly prepared."

With that, Damien stopped talking and Billy realized what was happening. Teasing and snark aside - since that was probably all that the other boy knew about communication with peers - Damien's actions spoke plenty. He had been watching Billy for some time now, to the point where Billy found it incredibly creepy and asked Bruce to tone it down. So, really it should not be a surprise that Damien somewhat knew Billy, or had formed an idea of who Billy was.

Afterall, with his secret out, Billy had lessened his guard around the others, had stopped pretending to be the naive and innocent child they all believed him to be. The act helped with civilians, but with other heroes it was more of a hindrance. Billy did not need or want them treating him like he was helpless or incapable, like he was playing superhero dress up.

This wasn't some game to him

But still, it didn't seem to change their opinions much. In fact, it made some of them more overly concerned to the point where Billy had to figure out an even ground.

What version of him fit best around them?

By this point Damien may have seen all the iterations and their nuances. Bruce, too, if Billy were honest. All of it left a sort of dread in his gut. Being realized so deeply.

"This will do. It's the best vantage point without climbing to the very top, which I advise against. My father will get upset and make us climb down," Damien said, experience clear.

The location they finally stopped at was the center point of the large room - a playset tower with the lazy river around it. There were slides and waterfalls and stationary super soakers. Children ran around them in joy, some even their own age.

Billy couldn't remember being so young. He didn't think Damien could either.

"Choose a station," Damien said as he stood by a posting and pumped the soaker up.

"What for?" Billy asked, though he still picked one nearby and copied the motions. It seemed like Damien had done this before.

"So we can shoot at Todd when he passes by, of course. We are small enough that we can use this structure."

And just in that moment Jason leisurely floated by, lounging on a tube until a spray of water blasted him in his face and toppled him over.

"Uh. Damien? You sure that was-"

He was gone.

"Billy!" Jason was making his way over now toward him.

"Oh shoot!" Billy ran.

It wasn't until later, after he had been dunked into the pool and made to play chicken atop of Jason's shoulders against Damien and Dick, that Billy realized the other boy's clever ploy. Billy realized that maybe there really was someone he could be himself around.

#shazamweek2019 #shazam #billy batson #damien wayne #fanfic writing #this is my first time writing damien #i think he would be the type to notice things and do something about it #instead of using his words. or being nice #hes fascinated by billy but doesnt want to admit it. its ok tho #billy has already claimed him as a friend

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dontyoudarejudgemesworld · 4 years

Text

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far: Chapter Five: Meet the Family

Alrighty peeps we’re getting into it now. The chapters from here on out wont be so time skippy as we settle into the meat of the story. This is set in late July some time after The Love God but before the Northwest Mansion Mystery. As usual it is poster here on AO3 if you prefer. Likes and feed back always appreciated.

And with that I will scream yet another chapter into the endless sea that is the internet. Enjoy.

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Chapter Four: Meet the Family

Over the next year and a half Billie became a fairly regular fixture at the Shack. It was almost maddening the way she called to check in with Stan every few days, her mother’s death seeming to spur her on. Stan swore she was suddenly channeling Shermie in her determination to keep in touch, though, when he’d brought up the idea of introducing her to him and the rest of the family, she still protested. As far as he could figure she worried that she was too rough for them to accept, a ridiculous notion in his opinion. For starters she was a successful private investigator who was completely self made, and while he would bet hard cash that some of the people she worked for weren’t above bar that didn’t lessen her success. She was also smart as a whip, and clever as hell, everyone in town seemed to like her and she was undoubtedly kind hearted. Sure, he might be a bit bias in his opinion of her but she was still objectively a great person to have around who would give you the shirt off her back if she thought you needed it.

Then again he could understand the way she felt. It was easy to see the same kind of quiet self loathing in her that he had. That little voice that whispered that you would never be good enough for anyone and weren’t worth knowing. He saw it flash in her eyes every time he praised her or brought up the rest of the family who were admittedly far more ‘normal’. And while he hated that she thought that of herself and wanted to shake her until she realized she was being stupid he didn’t press the issue. He realized that she all but panicked whenever he even mentioned Shermie and the rest and had noticed that when the twins were brought up at all she looked like she wanted to run for the hills. In fact, he had noticed that when she was helping out around the Shack that anytime she had to directly interact with children beyond a single question she looked like she wanted to run for the hills. So he dropped it figuring she’d come around eventually, and avoided mentioning them at all.

And if he was honest with himself, he kind of liked having her all to himself. Granted, he had to keep up the act that he was her uncle, but the affection that she gave him was something he hadnt realized he needed. She didn’t expect anything from him; he didn’t have to pretend to be a genius or look at him like he’d thrown his whole life away like Shermie did. She liked him for him and seemed to genuinely enjoy his company. The admiration she expressed at his ever expanding collection of oddities was voiced almost as often as Soos’, and she constantly seemed to eavesdrop on his tours caught up in his showmanship. It was nice to feel like some one really cared about him that was family. And somewhere deep down inside he was afraid if she met the rest of the family she would start seeing him as the screw up they did.

So they kept on, Billie showing up every few months for a visit. Their relationship wasn’t an openly affectionate one, instead both acting more like they tolerated each other. Much of the time was spent bickering over little things or making stupid bets over anything and everything they could. Yet, the affection they had was there, Billie cooking for them even as she loudly complained that his kitchen wasn’t suited for making a bowl of cereal or Stan calling her a moron for riding that damned bike around with busted tail light because she’d lead the cops right to him only to claim he had no idea how it got fixed by the next morning. It was a bit unconventional, but it seemed to work well for both of them. Not to mention the entertainment it added to Soos and Wendy’s life when they were constantly trying to one up the other.

And so time rolled on until one Tuesday in July Billie trudged up the road her bag slung across her back and a large box in her arms. Glancing around seeing the parking lot empty aside from Soos’ truck and Stan’s car she figured that the sticky heat that hung in the air had chased everyone into whatever cooler shelter they could find. Hopping up the steps she easily caught the handle and pushed the door open with her hip.

“Hey Stan I brought you a gold mine. I managed to get my hands on a two headed fish and a six legged chicken. I figure you can stick them together and…,” she yelled before skidding to a halt. In front of her a little girl with thick brown hair and a neon green sweater with a yellow heart stood braces gleaming as she grinned up at her,

“Hi! Do you have a two tailed rat too?” the child asked eagerly. "Uhhhhh… no?” Billie said, her eyes darting around the room for the old man before returning to the preteen who was bouncing eagerly on her heels, “Why? Do you need one?” she asked, unable to come up with anything else to say.

“No, I just thought it would be neat,” the girl told her cheerfully.

“Oh, okay, cool,” Billie said, staring at her like she had two heads, “STAN THERE’S A STRAY CHILD IN THE LIVING ROOM!” she yelled causing the girl to laugh and shake her head.

“I’m not a stay child, I’m Mabel. Stan’s my great uncle,” she told the older woman causing Billie’s eyes to widen significantly, “Who are you?”

“Uhhhhh Billie,” she replied after a second taking a step back. This wasn’t ideal, while she had not recognized her by sight, she was well aware of Mabel and her brother Mason. They were two of the five family members she’d been avoiding meeting. Feeling a light sweat break out on her body, she resisted the urge to bolt back out the door.

“Oh hey dude,” Soos said as he walked in from the gift shop raising a hand and letting out a laugh. Beside him was a boy who looked eerily similar to the girl beaming up at her who’s face pulled into a suspicious look. Mason, he had his great uncle’s nose, and his eyes; sharp and shrewd.

“Hey Soos,” she said automatically grateful for the presence of another adult at least, “Stan around?”

“Yeah, he’s in the store room. Didn’t know you were coming,” he told her and she rolled her shoulders in an uncomfortable shrug.

“Yeah, well, my bike needs a total overhaul so I dropped it off at the garage this morning,” she explained.

“Cool you can totally help me and Dipper find what whatever is stealing the extra snacks out of the store room while you’re here,” the big man laughed.

“Wait, who are you?” Mason demanded, staring at her.

“Oh dude, you don’t know her?” Soos asked, looking down at him, “She’s Billie. Her Dad is a friend of Stan’s and she stays here when she’s between jobs, man. She’s a private investigator an’ like super cool,” he chuckled and Billie couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. Soos was such a sweetheart she couldn’t help but like him.

“Whoa, you’re a real PI?” Mason said, staring up at her, his suspicion disappearing to be replaced by quiet excitement.

“Like ducktective!?” Mable chimed in and Billie couldn’t help but pull a face.

“The duck is a hack,” she said automatically, the statement one she had said a million times to Stan, “He doesn’t 90% of his investigation is based on conjecture and assumed facts. Plus, he’s closer to the ground so he can find stuff way too easily.”

“That’s what I said,” Dipper said eagerly, “So you…,”

“What the heck is all the commotion out here? I can hear… Billie!” Stan interrupted himself as he walked his eyes widening as he spotted her, “What are you doing here?!”

“My bike needs an overhaul so I figured I’d drop in since Bats said he’s gonna have to rip it apart,” she told him raising her brows, “You didn’t say you had company though, so I’ll just head over to the Twin,” she said showing the box into his arms and turning, “Nice meeting you guys”

“Wait,” Stan said, glancing down at the kids, before looking back at his daughter who looked like she was ready to run screaming from the house, “I mean you could stay here. We found an extra room,” he told her quickly causing her to cock a brow, her face falling into a skeptical look.

“You found a room?” she asked, “Stan… how on earth did you have a room you didn’t know about? You built the house,” she reminded him and he hesitated before scoffing.

“I’m old. Old people forget things,” he said matter a factly causing her to roll her eyes.

“You forgot a whole room?” she demanded, crossing her arms and resting all her weight on one hip.

“Yeah, and the wax museum,” Maple provided cheerfully causing Billie’s mouth to fall open slightly.

“You have a wax museum?” she demanded.

“Had, we had to melt them all because they were alive cause of a curse and decapitated Wax Stan,” Mabel chirped causing the older woman’s eye brows to shoot up in disbelief, “Well, Larry King’s head is still running around. We can’t get him out of the vents.”

“Well… glad to see the weirdness has cranked up to a 12. Guess the gnomes were too mundane,” she muttered and Dipper stared at her.

“Wait, you know about the gnomes?!” he demanded and she shrugged uncomfortably as both the kids’ stared up at her. Shifting nervously she rolled her shoulders again pulled at he hem of her shirt.

“Don’t everyone? I mean the dam…darn things ‘re everywhere, I always ‘ave ta chase them out of my sattle bags,” she replied casually before catching Stan staring at her like she was spilling state secrets, “What? Are we pretendin’ this place isn’t totally insane? Oh, my bad. Gnomes aren’t real and there sure as he…heck ain’t little campfires that run 'round or a weird thing that stalks you but you can’t never catch cause it’s always behind you,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Whoa, you have to stay,” Dipper said eagerly, “No one believes me about that stuff.”

“Yeah! And you can help me even out the guy vibe around here,” Mabel said happily and Billie hesitated glancing at Stan who shrugged. Widening her eyes she cocked her head at him in an effort for some help, while the kids seemed nice the thought of getting to know them freaked her out. She was just getting okay with the idea of Stan in her life, and honestly children in general freaked her out. Kids were one of those things she avoided like the plague because she didn’t want to be the reason that one of them turned out… like her.

“Your call, kid,” Stan rumbled unhelpfully, causing Billie to let out a sigh. Looking down at the kids who stared up at her eagerly and then back at Stan who’s stoic scowl slipped for a moment his eyes widening and pleading slightly she found her excuses running dry. She had a feeling that the Twin was full up, she had passed it on the way in and saw the parking lot full. Undoubtedly exhausted travelers had stopped in an effort to escape the heat and stuffy cars. And while she was sure she could head to the next town over she didn’t want to, her bike was in the shop down town and she didn’t want to have to ride the damned bus back and forth.

“Okay, I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt,” she sighed causing Mabel to let out a delighted squeal and longing forward to wrap her arms around her in a delighted hug causing Billie to grow up her hands in surprised alarm. Hugging wasn’t something she was a big fan of in general, it was one of those things that evoked…feelings. Looking over at Stan she hunched her shoulders and shook her head; she didn’t want to just shove the kid away but at the same time she didn’t know what else to do.

“Great! What are your feelings on glitter?” the girl demanded pulling away much to Billie’s relief though the sudden question threw her.

“It was created by Satan and should be banned from every place of existence,” Billie replied flatly taking a hesitant step back in case the girl lunged at her again.

“Hmmmm, make up?” Mabel said disapprovingly.

“Expensive an’ pointless.”

“Scrapbooking?”

“Evidence trail so no.”

“Boy bands?”

“Ummmm, nonthreatenin’?”

“Pigs?”

“Adorable, but also delicious.”

“Sweaters? Specifically knitted ones?”

“Cozy an’ underrrated.”

“Mmmmmm, we have some work to do, but you have potential,” Mabel declared squinting up at her as she rubbed her chin. Billie gave a tense smile and let out an uncomfortable laugh. Potential for what, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Mabel stop doing…,” Stan barked gesturing at her, “….that. You okay kid?” he asked raising a brow at Dipper who stood staring opened mouth at Billie, “Yur sweatier then normal.”

“Yeah,” Dipper said his voice cracking, “Soos, Mabel I need to talk to you about…stuff,” he stammered as he backed towards the door, “So you know…we should go…talk….about stuff…outside,” he added causing Billie to raise a brow as they watched him awkwardly back out the door slamming into the door frame as he went. Soos chuckled as he followed him, Mabel running after him as she declared him a dork. Watching them go Billie shook her head before glancing at Stan.

“What in the Sam Hill, Stanford?” she demanded her head whipping over to glare at him, “Yuh couldn’t'ave mentioned yuh had them here? I talked to yuh two days ago an’ mentioned I’d be comin’ through.”

“It’s been a weird summer,” he replied with a shrug, “Come on it won’t be so bad. Besides this way you can get a feel for 'em before you introduce 'urself to the rest of 'em. If you can survive Mabel and get Dipper you can handle the rest of them no problem. Now what is this crap?” he asked shaking the box she’d handed him.

“A two 'eaded fish and six legged chicken. Real ones, not like the half asses crap yuh usually put out,” she told him a hint of annoyance lingering in her words.

“Yeah well we’ll see about that,” he scoffed

~*~

“What is your deal?” Mabel asked as she watched her twin pace back and forth babbling excitedly as he paged through the journal,

“Dude, you’re freakin’ out,” Soos told him and the boy stopped his eyes wide with excitement as he stared at them like they’d missed something.

“Didn’t you see her hand” he asked his voice high with excitement.

“What?” Mabel asked her face twisting in confusion.

“Her hand. Her left hand has six fingers,” he insisted only to receive raised brows from his sister and a head cock from Soos causing him to let out an exasperated sigh, “She had six fingers guys!”

“Bro you’re loosing me here,” Mabel told him shaking her head.

“Yeah, I mean it’s kind of weird but…,” Soos told him and he rolled his eyes as he snapped the journal closed holding the battered leather cover up to them.

“Her left hand has six fingers,” he repeated slowly, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as they caught up to him.

“No way,” Mabel said her voice airy with awe.

“Dude,” Soos droned staring at the golden emblem on the front, “Dude!”

“I know!” Dipper said his voice almost shouting as he flipped the book around to start at it, “I mean I assumed the author was a guy but…that can’t be just a coincidence. I mean she knows about the gnomes and she said something about the Hide Behind I think,” he said as he flipped through the journal. “All summer we’ve been looking for the author in town but what if they hid the book because they were leaving town?” he mused his words all but running together.

“But Dipper that book is like a hundred years old, and she’s like twenty,” Mabel said pumping the breaks as usual. Pausing Dipper’s brows scrunched together in thought. That was true, and it said that the author had been studying the place for six year after traveling around. And while she could have started the journal when she was a kid it seemed like the author wrote like an adult.

“Wait, what if she’s like the author’s daughter,” Soos said causing them to look at him, “I mean she just showed up a few years ago. Like one day she was just there, but she comes to town like all the time. And she’s always going out in the forest. Maybe she’s looking for him too dude,” he suggested and Dipper once again wondered at Soos strange brand of insight.

“So what? You gonna ask her?” Mabel demanded and Dipper’s mouth twisted in contemplation.

“Mmmmm, maybe we should see if we can find anything out first. You’re good at getting people to tell you things.”

“It’s one of my talents,” Mabel said proudly.

“Right, so you find out what you can about her. She has to have something to do with the journals,” he said sternly, “We’re on the edge of finding out something big I just know it.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #au gravity falls #stan pines #billie pine #the apple doesnt fall far #AO3 #gf #dipper pines #mabel pines #pines family #pines family bonding #illegitimate pines #Mystery Shack #still suck at hashtags

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thunderheadfred · 5 years

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Why I Love Spike But Also Hate Him A Lot: an unsolicited essay by me

OR: Why I personally relate to blood-sucking poseurs OR: dude what if I ever got high enough to rewrite season six?

(under a cut because this goes on for a while. also discourse frightens me)

Okay. I’m like twenty years late. But I’ve been rewatching BtVS s5 during my latest depression spiral and wandering against my better judgement into the Spuffy fic verse. Disclaimer that my grasp of the series’ larger canon is meh at best, and frankly I don’t care.

As usual, I have too many thoughts.

Spike is, hands-down, my favorite character on this show. Maybe one of my favorite characters, period. He’s just... good to watch. But listen. Secret poet or no, he was never an inherently good person. Meek and shy does not equal Buffy’s equal. I squirm at this apparently massively popular canon interpretation of his human character as some kind of adorable perfect cherub, as if William the Dipshit Poet is somehow preferable to Spike the Complicated Murderer or like, we should just automatically assume that cute shy white people who lived in 1880 London are default Lawful Good when in fact... ahahaa haaaa YIKES COLONIALISM?

I actually think the reason Spike is “more human” than other vampires (in the weird, contradictory Buffy soul-canon) is exactly because William was not Pure, he was a Pratt. Sweet? I guess. Loves his mum? He’s got that going for him. But that guy?? Is not Buffy’s long-lost true love, not a weepy ghost to be shoved into Spike’s Billy Idol cosplay bod at the last minute. In a show that, at its best, tries to give us a protagonist who fundamentally believes we must always make the choice to keep living mindfully, accountably, and with purpose... we get a love interest who is... Spike. A guy who, until the very end of his arc, acts as though he has zero fucking free will. Even though, through a combo of deliciously fun and inconsistent writing, Spike is apparently the only vampire in the Buffyverse who does.

I’ll get to that but first, let’s accept for a minute that Free Will + Buffy = good, and people who roll over and say “I had no choice” + Buffy = Mr. Pointy. This counts for her friends too, (*coughWILLOWcough*) and it’s one of the reasons I love the show despite its many textual problems. As a character piece, it’s great. People fail to take accountability for their behavior all the time. It’s an extraordinarily human flaw, one that rarely equals automatically evil, and I love that it can bite characters on the side of good, too. But that’s not the point of this, oh shit!

Okay. William, cute glasses aside, has no free will. He didn’t even sign up for the vampire thing, he just wanted to get felt up by a pretty girl who saw him cry and didn’t laugh at him. At every point, he was an immature, weak-willed, naive dreamer type who wanted nothing more than to be validated by his shitty friends. The vampirism made him a killer, yeah. But it also inadvertently gave a cowardly nobody a lot of good qualities. Now he’s a weirdly observant, relentlessly optimistic, fun-loving, sexually secure Cool Guy who gave up poetry for punk... but still tries too hard to impress his shitty friends. Basically, being a vampire made this guy a happier-but-still-undeniably-crappy version of himself, especially... considering all the murder.

But now, let us transparently and metaphorically link cartoonish Vamp!Murder to addiction. Because wow, death in BtVS is either a manipulative authorial gut-punch or a dumb joke, and either way, it’s almost impossible to take seriously in this show, so let’s not.

How to make a remorseless bloodsucking fiend out of of “boo hoo I’m a bad writer and I wish some jerks thought I was cool?” Ha ha you can’t! Turns out you basically recreate my early twenties but with more murder. Spike is a socially-dependent ADHD art school reject on a century-long avoidance bender. He’s a codependent, moon-eyed boyfriend who learns how to aggressively project not caring while caring Far Too Much, all while clinging to aesthetic as an identity. ALTHOUGH let us not deny that he 100% enjoyed all the killing - wtf so much killing - because for vampires, killing equals pleasure, and charming, “happy” addicts always justify the comforts of their vices. He talks the talk cuz fitting in is his whole deal, but he’s not actually in it for chaos and destruction or any high-falutin’ evil reason, or even really for eating delicious ladies but because, in the end, it feels good and the only girlfriend he’s ever had thinks eating people is cool. Even his whole (gorgeous, splendid to watch) episode-long speech about killing two slayers was written more for Buffy’s character arc than his; we don’t really know why he killed the slayers other than like, “Because they had a death wish I guess. Side note: it was fun.”

There wasn’t much legitimately vengeful or hateful stuff in sad little William for demon!Spike to work with, and apparently William’s soul-or-whatever moved about twelve inches over his left shoulder and stayed there, occasionally poking him for the next hundred years. So it should shock no one that he immediately switches sides when a) his girlfriend dumps him, b) his addiction suddenly hurts, and c) it’s time to impress a new friend group.

I get that Spike’s whole soul-getting between s6 and s7 has been interpreted in fanon as a grand romantic sacrifice (ehhhhhhhhhhhh) and I get why that’s tempting, but the show itself bungled that up way bad and I just can’t get behind it. R*pe idiocy aside, making it ultimately all about Buffy just kinda cheapens what could have been a really fucking powerful redemption arc, one that would have led to a far more satisfying love story. Especially from Buffy’s perspective.

Okay listen.

We have a guy who has been playing the “duh, Vampire!” card for a century, pleasure-seeking and self-centered, pandering to various peer groups, murderous or otherwise, a happy addict, impervious to change. So when finally, after a HUNDRED SODDING YEARS of being a soulless, hilarious dick, Spike has consequences shoved into his gray matter by the government, he doesn’t change. At all. He just starts obsessing over another woman, doing what he thinks she wants. A woman he thinks will give him new pleasures, a new, perpetually fine status quo. But this woman is Buffy, whose identity is rock solid even though her life is constantly full of challenge and change and choices. She “rewards” Spike only when he makes willful, selfless decisions. And the rewards aren’t romantic, either. Not early on. Even in canon, she keeps rejecting him over and over again, for crystal clear reasons. Thank god. Because when he accepts that she’ll never have him, but still does the hard stuff anyway, he’s unwittingly starting to change. It’s not just Buffy. Buffy demands real personhood. Independence. Identity. Choice.

Uh oh. She’s gotten to him, then. Though it starts out selfish, he still makes a CHOICE. Quite literally, he takes on the pain of self-improvement - first by embracing the consequences of his chip, later by going on his fancy sparkly soul quest. Buffy is the catalyst, no doubt, because once a poet always a poet and girls are pretty, but Spike’s path to improvement (if not redemption) was already there, laid out nice and neat. His narrative low point, the lightbulb moment that makes him want a soul again, should never have come out of a season of terrible backsliding, culminating in the shower scene we all regret.

It should have been The Gift.

Death isn’t Buffy’s gift. It’s love. And not that simpering, easy kind of love that just says, “there there,” but the hard, truthful love that makes you want to keep getting that goddamn rock from the bottom of the hill. Yes, Spike’s arc should still be about Buffy, it’s Buffy’s show, but it should have been more about the hole she left behind. Not just in Spike but in the world.

What’s left? This latest and greatest group of people who have so far RIGHTLY rejected a demon whose sole motivator seems to be comfort. And maybe when these particular people hit rock bottom, they have enough wisdom to see a monster down in the dark and recognize themselves. Maybe Dawn (whose humanizing effect on Spike has been nearly as important as his obsession with Buffy) shows him that rare, rare thing called Validation. And oh god, he realizes he’s never actually moved beyond trying to sell effulgence to Cecily Whatsherface, that he’s been sitting on his own grave for a hundred years, waiting for someone to coddle and fix him, and now the only woman who might have, the best woman, literally the one girl chosen one above all others... is gone. This would be a good time to die.

Or...

...maybe there is no magic soul cave, maybe he tries to end it and makes the CHOICE not to. Chooses to stay and help, because what else is there? Then BAM! it just slams back into him in a way that hurts like you can’t even believe, because admitting how bad you’ve fucked up is the most painful moment of a lifetime and I’ve lived it and I wish I’d had a hellmouth to jump into, but the Scoobies pull him back, and he takes care of Dawn until life seems to have some meaning again, then Buffy comes out of the earth traumatized and broken and no one is better equipped to help her than a recovering Spike, not because he’s magically her rock but because he’s also learning how to roll his own rock and keep on climbing, because Camus ruined us all for metaphors...

THE END

Anyway. As a recovering addict and toxic person who has been struggling a lot recently... who wants to improve and be able to give more to the people I love, Spike has an arc that just like... cuts me deep, man. Especially because of what should have been.

#I'm also afraid to tag this as anything #haha aaa aa #uh

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xicarcalii · 6 years

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(Y/N)’s Big Day (Billy Hargrove x Reader) Part One

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x (Female) Reader

Summary: Today is (Y/N) and Nathan’s big day. However, Billy shows up to ruin the fun. He wants to admit his feelings once and for all before his person gets hitched to some rich, snot nose, pretty boy. (Billy’s description not mine). If things don’t go as planned will Billy, Steve, Tommy H. and their irrelevant friend Chris have to sabotage it??? I THINK SOOOOO.

Note: Carol really isn't a bitch in this fic. I wanted to explore with the characters a bit. How would Tommy and Carol act around their best friends in 5 years? There are a ton of OTP shit in here and scenes from my fav movies and shows all put together for inspiration so i could finish this damn thing before Monday. If there are any error’s, ill just fix those babies later. I’m too tired rn.

+ + +

February 21st, 1989

A few hours from now, you would either be the happiest person on the face of the earth, or you’ll be in a home for the abnormally gifted (a nut house for crazy people) by the amount of anxiety. It was 7:30 AM. You had arrived to the church 48 minutes ago, filled with excitement and happily anticipating the impending marriage to Nathan Hurley.

“That is the third time Steve has run by the doorway in the last twenty minutes. What is he doing? He should be in here, standing still and keeping me from freaking out!” You hissed. Meredith let out a chuckle, crossing her left leg over her right as she sat on the arm of one of the couches.

“Just breathe, (Y/N). You look amazing!” She smiled.

Just breathe. Jeez, Mer, I never thought of that, you thought. You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the few wrinkles that were still in your dress.

Overall you were pleased, to say the least at the dress you had picked out. It was a frigid day in 1989, when you walked into the department store downtown to buy a wedding dress. It was immediately clear that you had a problem. All the gowns on display were designed for summer, made of light material, like organdy and dotted Swiss. You were getting married in a month and you needed something heavy and seasonal—and you needed it now. Finally, a frustrated saleswoman pointed you towards the sale rack, in other words, toward the reject winter wedding dresses that did not sell the year before. You called it sheer luck. You had found exactly what you were looking for. It was an ivory satin and Chantilly lace, with a six-foot train—at an incredible bargain price of only $800. You let out a small sigh, glancing up at your hair that had been put up in loose curls, soon looking over your face, and the decent amount of make-up you had plastered on it.

Exactly 15 seconds ago, Carol took both your hands and congratulated you on planning the perfect wedding. She asked how you were doing and part of you wanted to go berserk and bounce. But, you couldn’t lose your cool. So, what do you tell the young woman you chose as your “maid of honor” and “best friend” as she stood before you, smiling sheepishly, while all your dreams of a peaceful and simple marriage ceremony mutate into something you would wish on anyone else, but you? You only shrugged. You weren’t sure what the hell you were doing anymore.

“Look, (Y/N), It’s okay to be nervous. But nothing can go wrong. All you have to do, is go out there, get married, and I will do the rest, okay?” She gave you a reassuring smile, you giving her one in return as you nodded your head.

You were so focused on Carol trying to calm your nerves, you barely listened to the door opening.

“Billy!” a flustered Carol yelled as other bridesmaids in the room gasped. Billy stopped half way through the threshold; eyes automatically locked on your figure. You peered over Carol’s shoulder with growing fear in your eyes, watching as a small genuine smile grew on the man’s face. You still looked the same, even though it had been 5 years since he’d last seen you. He smiled as another old friend, Carol walked over to Billy, “Get out!” She demanded.

Billy cleared his throat, apologizing for staring a little too long. “Well, this isn’t the bathroom.” Carol rolled her eyes; scoffing as she pushed him out of the room. “Get out! Get out!” He quickly threw his hands up in defense, walking backwards to exit. But, not before getting one more glimpse of you, before she slammed the door behind him.

+ + +

Billy had run all over kingdom come when he had finally found Tommy and Chris; who were standing by a table in the reception hall, talking while nursing a glass of champagne.

“Guys, guys, shut up and listen to me-it’s (Y/N). She doesn’t want to get married.” The two men gave Billy wide eyed looks before responding.

“Damn.”

“What happened?”

Billy walked over to the two men, “Well…” He stammered and then pushed the rest out in a gush. “Her exact words were: “I don’t want to marry Nathan, but my entire family is here and I can’t back out now. Please, Billy as my best friend, help me.”

Tommy flicked his brows up, “What’d Carol say?” Billy shook his head, “Well, Carol didn’t hear it-(Y/N) told me with her eyes.”

Both, Tommy and Chris took a minute to think about what their friend had just told them. Concluding that all of this information was bullshit.

“Okay, so nothing happened then.” Tommy shrugged. Followed by Chris saying, “Cool, so she’s marrying Nate.”

Billy stuffed his hands into the pockets as he scowled over his shoulder, “No, guys, I know (Y/N)-I know her looks, okay? She doesn’t want to do this.”

“Billy, why the hell were you back there!?” Carol lunged forward, gripping the man tightly by the shoulder to spin him around. “I need to know, Hargrove.” She gripped him even more firmly and stared at him hard in the eye.

“(Y/N)’s backing out of the wedding.” Carol’s eyes widened, “What?”

“It’s true. She told me.”

“With her eyes.” Tommy pointed out. Carol snorted before taking her hand off Billy’s shoulder. “Oh, my god. I thought you were talking about something real. Billy! The weddings happening-let her go, pea brain.”

“Look, Carol, I’m telling you this as (Y/N)’s best friend and nothing more.” Carol shook her head, “Billy, your wrong. (Y/N) loves Nathan-I know that because I know her better than you do. Plus, if you were her best friend, you would’ve stayed. God, you are so selfish. Why can’t you just be happy for her?”

“Your wrong!” Billy yelled but then lowered his voice – “Your wrong, I am happy for her. If this was what she wanted, I would leave this wedding alone-but it’s not, so i cant.”

“Hargrove, listen up and listen good. You are not to talk to (Y/N), you are not to look (Y/N), and you are not to have eye conversations with her. Or I will bust you. Hard.” Carol sneered. With one flick of her hair, the girl was gone.

Billy ran his fingers through his cut curls, letting out a groan. Tommy furrowed a brow, pressing on with the conversation once his girlfriend had left.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Billy dropped his hands to his sides; letting out a deflating sigh. Nodding, he pursed his lips together, “I’m gonna tell her… and if that shit doesn’t go over smoothly between the two of us-Max told me Harrington doesn’t like the jackass, so maybe we can stop this whole shit wedding from happening. We all know she’s too good for him. She deserves better.”

“Okay, hold up,” Chris began, gulping down the rest of his champagne,” let’s say you do tell (Y/N) how you feel, and she feels the same way, then what?”

“What do you think? I’m gonna grab my girl, get the hell out of this shit hole and were gonna settle back in California.”

“What about Mindy?” Tommy asked. Billy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “She’s not (Y/N), Tommy.”

“Alright, man I get it,” Tommy nodded, beginning to chuckle, “but, if by any means, you and Harrington try and sabotage this wedding because all this shit between the two of you doesn’t go as planned-I want in.”

Chris nodded in agreement, “Yeah, fuck it, me too.”

Billy glanced between the two, giving them both a mischievous grin as he walked away to tell you he loved you.

+ + +

You hiked up the massive skirt on your dress and tiptoed to the doorway, glancing out into the hall. Your mom was huddled at the door with Tyler, the best man. Guests and parents were seated in pews. The lilies and orange blossoms filled the building. You looked to the front of the church only to see Nathan. Even though you two had agreed not to see each other before the ceremony, you couldn’t help but stare. He was wringing his hands and his eyes were searching everywhere but in the direction of the aisle you would be walking down. Everything was as you dreamed, well – almost.

Your eyes kept searching for Billy though. It was a lot harder to spot him now without that damn mullet. Where is he? Maybe Nate is nervous because of Billy? Why is he here in the first place, Max probably told him? Maybe Tommy? These things played out in the back of your mind like a broken record.

You didn’t know, but even though you didn’t see Billy-he saw you. He pushed through the crowd, edging his way toward you. You never noticed him as he fished his way through the jovial gathering. Billy felt as if he were floating as he closed the gap between you and himself. Grabbing you by the wrist, he pulled you aside.

“Billy,” you breathed. Your shock was quickly replaced with bemusement.

“What the hell are you doing here,” you asked. Billy frowned and grabbed you by the elbow, leading you back into the room, quickly shutting the door.

“No, (Y/N). What the hell are you doing here?” Your mind was reeling as you stared up at him with disbelief. You had avoided all his calls for months-years even, and you had intended to keep it that way. Any attempt that he would try to make and weasel his way back in was easily ignored. It was your wedding. Every excuse you could muster to avoid him was utilized.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was smaller than you had intended. You wanted to yell at him, but perhaps you were too stunned. He had decided to corner you 20 minutes before the ceremony to let you know. You stared at him, trying to work up the anger to smack him, but the look in his eyes quelled your rage. He took your hand into his own, and you inhaled a deep breath. The touch was unwarranted, and its effect unwanted.

“I love you,” he said simply. Your eyes met his, and his somber expression bore through your soul. “You left me,” you reminded him, tugging your hand back. Sanity returned as the feeling faded from your body, and your resolve hardened. “It’s been 5 years, Billy. Are you crazy? You wait until now to tell me you love me?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you ever since I got to California! You’ve been blowing me off ever since,” he accused, his brow furrowed. “This was the only way I could get your attention for more than ten seconds.” You bit your lower lip, glaring up at him. “Okay, Billy. You want my attention? You have it. I’ll give you twenty seconds to tell me how you’re going to fix this!” You spat, glad to see your temper had finally decided to join the conversation. He glared back at you though. “I’m done trying to talk to you!” he exclaimed, stepping uncomfortably close.

Your eyes widened, and you threw my hands up in protest immediately. It was too late though. He held you close, and you were always helpless against his lips. The excitement tearing through your body almost took over, but you managed to push against his chest in protest. When he didn’t budge, his lips settled in place and defeat consumed you. Your heart was pounding faster than it had in years, and as much as you wanted to deny it, the charge between the two of you was always tangible. You found yourself opening your mouth to him, and it only took a second before he eagerly accepted the invitation. Your mind was screaming for you to stop this, but the electricity flowing through couldn’t be ignored as you kissed him back. When he finally pulled back, you were stunned. Disappointed, even. His eyes were dancing victoriously as they met yours, and you had no words to offer him. You were paralyzed under his gaze after the heated moment, just like how the two of you were back in high school.

“Don’t marry him,” he whispered, his eyes pleading as they met yours, “I always have loved you. You can’t marry that asshole and if you do, I can’t watch. You deserve better. Marry me, (Y/N). I know you want too.”

permanent tagged list: @dacremontgomerylover @thatonecurlygirl @emilia-grosso @hargrovesgoldilocks @xsvanjasx@daddydxcre@50shadesofbillyhargrovedaddy @kingofmyheart14@hotstuffhargrove@80steenmovie @baebee35 @mcrmarvelloki@kingsteve011@kaliforniacoastalteens @alpha-imagines @thephantomofthe-internet

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargove imagines #billy hargrove x reader #imtrashforbillyhargrove

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filmfanatic82 · 6 years

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AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapt 2: Sometimes It Hurts Instead

“We had a deal!” Trini shouts out with a tinge of underlying anger to her voice. She doesn’t even bother waiting until she’s fully entered the firehouse nor cares if anyone else happens to hear her. Trini’s a woman on a mission.

“Good to see you too, Trini.” Jason emerges from the cab of the pump truck with a bit of a sheepish smile. “Welcome home.”

“You promised, Scott.” Trini makes her way into the garage of the firehouse and straight towards Jason, never once breaking her anger-induced scowl.

“I know, but--”

“You fuckin’ promised me.”

Jason lets out a long sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “Heckyl had a thing for flying, Trini. So the bulk of the battle ended up taking place--”

“In the air,” Trini finishes Jason’s words. She suddenly deflates as all traces of anger seem to vanish into thin air and takes a seat down on the edge of one of the nearby trucks.

Without saying another word, Jason takes a seat next to Trini and joins her in the silence for a moment or two.

“You still could’ve called me.”

“You’re 100% right,” Jason replies with a reaffirming nod.

“That’s why Billy made these. Remember?” Trini rolls her sleeve up to reveal a nondescript, metallic bracelet around her wrist.

“Sorry, T.” Jason offers up an apologetic look. “Can we start over? Please?”

Fuck.

Jason always knows what to say.

Every single goddamn time.

It’s his gift…

And god, does Trini hate and love it all at the same time.

“Hi, Jason,” Trini grumbles in a playful yet somewhat mocking tone.

“Hi, Trini,” Jason quips back. He gives Trini a light bump with his shoulder. “How’s life been treating you?”

A disbelieving chuckle slips through Trini’s lips. She tucks a stray strain of hair that’s come loose from her ponytail behind her ear and gives a shrug of her shoulders. “Same as always. How about you? You and Billy doing okay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

An ear to ear grin spreads across Jason’s face, and no words are needed. Trini already knows the answer.

“That good, huh?” Trini replies, matching Jason’s shoulder bump with one of her own.

“I’m the luckiest guy on the face of the earth.”

Of course, that’s his answer.

Freakin’ fairytale of a love story. High school sweethearts who, against all the odds, managed to make it work. And went on to get married. On a warm summer evening at the Angel Grove yacht club. Just two short years ago.

It’s a story that should’ve been--

No. Pull it together, Gomez. This isn’t about you.

“Glad to see some things don’t change.” Trini stands up, stretches and takes a long, hard look around. “But this place has. Did it get bigger?”

“Nope. All Billy. Once Chief Richardson retired--”

Trini does a slight double take at these words. “Wait. When did he retire? Coulda sworn the last time we talked you said he’d rather up and die on the job than step down.”

“I did. But… that was almost a year ago.” Jason replies with a boyish shrug.

Shit.

Has it been that long?

No. The last time they talked it was right before--

“Fuck. Valentine’s day.” Trini says as a look of realization sweeps across her face. “Jesus, Jase. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“Hey. It’s all good. I get it. I really do.”

“Yeah. but still…” Trini runs her hands over her ponytail and lets out a heavy sigh. “I should be better.”

“We all should.” Jason pushes himself up from the bumper of the fire truck to join Trini. “But what matters is you’re here now.”

“God. You’ve been spending too much time with Mamaji.”

“You know the drill. Family dinner. Every Sunday--”

“At 4pm.” Trini finishes Jason’s sentence with a bit of a smirk. “How could I forget?”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“You and Billy coming tonight?”

“Of course. We’re planning on swinging by around 7ish for dessert. Need to go to Billy’s mom’s place first for dinner.” Jason snatches up a stray pile of hoses and hoists them over his shoulder with the greatest of ease. “Now come on. The youngest Fire Chief of Angel Grove in over a decade wants to give you a tour of the station.”

“Do I have a choice?” Trini deadpans.

“Nope.” Jason doesn’t waste another moment. He starts to head towards the back, not even giving Trini a second glance.

“Fine.” Trini replies as she follows suit and makes her way through the station.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Chuki!”

Trini barely manages to make her way through the back door of the kitchen, before being bombarded with a barrage of kisses and hugs by a woman that she has come to know as one thing and one thing only--

Mamaji.

But, at first, way back when Trini was just starting to come into her own, it was Mrs. Hart. Then, a few months after being kicked out by her parents, it switched to Meredith. And finally, on a crisp November evening when Trini revealed that she was planning on marrying their only daughter, it became Mamaji.

“Hi,” Trini replies, unable to hide her smile.

Meredith pushes Trini back, holding her out at arm's length, and gives her a quick once over from head to toe. “You lost weight again.”

“Mamaji--”

“And your hair. Still the ponytail? I thought we agreed. You were going to cut it.”

“I know, I know. I just--”

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Meredith cuts Trini off with an underlying hint of disappointment to her voice.

“Give the girl a break. She hasn’t been home for more than five minutes.” Frank lumbers into the kitchen, arms brimming with overstuffed grocery bags. He plops them down on the nearby kitchen table and without another moment’s hesitation, pulls Trini into a bear hug.

“Hi, Bapu.”

“How’s my girl doing?”

“Doin’ good,” Trini responds. She can feel her cheeks growing red with a slight embarrassment.

“Just good?”

“Yeah. Just good.”

Meredith hums in response as she turns her attention back towards the menagerie of pots and pans on the stove.

“Grad school still kicking your ass?”

“Frank!” Meredith shoots him a quick but scolding look over her shoulder.

“What?” Frank playfully shrugs his shoulders in response. He reaches into one of the bags and starts to rummage around for something. “Picked you up something.”

Frank emerges a second later from the bag with a six-pack of Pacifico beer and an ear to ear grin.

“Thanks, Bapu,” Trini replies matching his smile as he tosses her a can and then takes for himself.

“Of course, kiddo.”

All these years later and it still blows her mind that they treat her as if she’s their own.

Frank parks himself at one of the free kitchen chairs and motions for Trini to join him.

“So. What’s the latest and greatest? How're things going with…” Frank glances up at Meredith, drawing a blank.

“Gillian.”

“Right. Gillian. How’s she doing?”

“We kinda broke up,” Trini mumbles in between sips of beer.

“Broke up?” Meredith whips back around once again, hand still clutching the curry covered spoon. “But why? She was such a lovely girl.”

“I dunno… Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Chuki…”

Now it’s Frank’s turn to shoot Meredith a look, causing her to let out a light sigh and returns to manning the stove.

“Eh. If it wasn’t right, then it wasn’t right.” Frank gives Trini a fatherly nudge with his shoulder, catching her eyes in the process. There’s an unspoken understanding there between the two of them. No further explanation is needed. He gets it.

But Trini does know the reason.

Cause it’s always the same. Regardless of the girl. Or the situation.

When it comes down to it, they just aren’t--

No. Not happening.

Stop it, Gomez.

“Chuki?”

“Yeah?” Trini snaps herself out of the confines of her thoughts to notice that Meredith has abandoned the stove and is now thoroughly inspecting the contents of the grocery bags.

“Potatoes. I need all four bags peeled and scrubbed.” Meredith fishes out the bags of potatoes and plops them down with a hard thud in front of Trini.

“...And that’s my cue to leave.” Frank get up, stretches, and then gives Trini a light peck on the forehead. “I’ll be out back. Come and join me when she lets you outta indentured servitude.”

“Will do, Bapu.”

Frank disappears out the back door, leaving Trini alone once again with Meredith.

“So Gillian…”

“Can we not? Please, Mamji?” Trini cuts Meredith off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I promise. I’ll fill you in on Gillian Just… Just not right now.”

Without another word, Meredith makes her way over to Trini and wraps her arms around her, gives another quick but loving squeeze.

“Thanks,” Trini exhales as she places her hands on top of Meredith’s and returns the gesture.

“Anytime, Chuki.”

A comforting silence falls between the two of them as Meredith heads back to manning the stove while Trini rips open a bag of potatoes and begins to work.

Home… with an asterisk.

That’s the only way to explain it.

Not the home she grew up in. No. That one just doesn’t exist anymore.

It’s a different sense of home. A home that almost, at one point in time, she was going to officially belong to.

But then--

Stop. Don’t do it.

Trini shakes her head a bit, in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She takes an extra long swig of her beer and then dives head first into the task of peeling the mountain of potatoes.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Strange.

It’s the only way to describe it. The odd sensation that suddenly is rushing through every inch of her body.

Like touching a live wire mixed with a hint of…

Fear?

Anxiety?

What the hell is it?

Trini pauses mid peel, tuning all of her concentration in on her body.

Too much peeling? It has been well over an hour since she started. Maybe it’s--

Ding Dong.

“Chuki! Can you get that?” Meredith calls out from upstairs.

“Yeah.” Trini tosses the half-peeled potato back into the bag and gets up from the table.

She makes her way from the kitchen into the living room but suddenly hesitates before going to open the front door.

The feeling…

She knows this feeling.

But how?

Ding Dong.

“Chuki!”

“Yeah. I’m on it,” Trini hollers back.

What the hell is it?

Trini pulls open the front door and--

Fuuuuuuuuuuucccccccck

There, standing in the doorway is the one person in the world that Trini prayed she would never have to lay eyes on again in her life…

Kimberly fuckin’ Hart

#trimberly #trini x kimberly #power rangers #kimberly hart #trini #jason scott #power ranger 2017 #wlw #fanfic #ao3

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scathecraw · 6 years

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Upon The Rock - Chapter 6 - Awakening

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Read on FF.net | Ao3

With Superman tangled in a writhing mass of steely necks, Billy was distraught. Superman was THE hero. Without fail, he had saved Earth and who knows how many other planets. If he was lost, what could stop this thing?

As panic set in, a voice called out, cutting through the chaos. It was Talky, standing in an intersection, the crowd flowing around him like he wasn’t even there. “Billy. You know what you need to do. Say the name. Say-”

And like a bolt of lightning, the memories came flooding back. Everything, from the terrifying, unreal ride on the subway to the feeling of power as he called upon the gods. He remembered it all, and almost without even realizing it, said “SHAZAM.”

A true bolt of lightning crashed down onto him, splintering the concrete he stood on and setting off even more car alarms in the area. As the smoke cleared, he saw his perspective was changed, his stance, his clothes, everything was different. And he knew he could help. Something within him spoke, and he knew the hydra was his responsibility to deal with. As much as Superman could do to help Earth, this mythological monster was his duty.

He snapped into action, launching from his position faster than thought. There was no art to it, no grace. There was only the raw need to act. So act he did. Flinging himself bodily at the creature, he nearly missed it despite its size, and slammed into its lower body, then the ground. The beast was rocked when the Olympian man crashed into its side, bringing the quadruped onto two knees and triggering a roar of pain. Two of the necks unwound from their savaging of Superman to deal with the newcomer. They whipped down towards his recovering form, hoping to snatch him up and polish him off without any further trouble.

They were not so lucky. As they arced downwards, Shazam swung his fist to try and protect himself. It did more than that. The heads crashed into one another and recoiled, with broken teeth and bleeding maws. More heads whipped out of the mass that still struggled with the Man of Steel, but anything that could cause permanent damage was a much higher priority to the savage thing.

Its lack of thought served it badly. As soon as Superman was unoccupied by the endless gnashing maws, he broke free. He wound one neck around another in an attempt to stop the ruthless attacks without spawning any more heads. Its attention split, the hydra could pin down neither of the superheroes it was combating. Superman’s skill made up for the lack of permanent damage, and Shazam’s unchecked strength rocked the beast with each blow. The ground cratered beneath his mighty fists, crushing the hydra into the rubble pile of the street. The beast never let up. Cruel cleverness it may have had, its thoughts were no more than its own mindless hunger, beaten back by the duo. Broken teeth fell, shattered, to the ground and dissolved into nothingness, and soon the monster was a slumped pile of necks and bruises.

Superman floated to the ground carefully, perfectly controlled even after the struggle. He landed next to Shazam and eyed the lightning that still fizzed and popped around him. Fearless, he approached Shazam and extended a hand. “Thanks for the help there. I appreciate it. I’m Superman.”

Shazam’s eyes widened as his hero – THE hero – came close to shake his hand like he was a friend or a coworker. He sputtered. “I know. I mean, I know you’re Superman. I’m – I – Wow. I’m Shazam. Just wow. I never thought I’d – I mean I had always hoped to meet you.” He grabbed the Man of Steel’s hand enthusiastically.

With a chuckle, Superman accepted a handshake that would have crushed any normal person. “Shazam. That’s a good name. Careful with the lightning, though. People are about to start coming back.”

“Oh. Ha. Yeah. Umm, I’m not entirely sure how, but – Okay.” A deep breath later and the lightning did start to taper off, just as the crowd of people Superman predicted began to surge towards them.

But just as suddenly, they recoiled, and screams resounded once more. The hydra surged up again, more heads than before and more savage. It ignored strategy and tactics to seize the Man of Steel in two sets of jaws, trapping him immobile, lest he cause even more heads to rain destruction on the city. The heads that lunged after Shazam were not as on target. Bruised and swollen eyes misjudged their target even as they healed and tore up the earth even further as they skidded by, lunging back to wrap him like an anaconda’s coils.

Superman was pinned by multiple heads, all trying to tear at his impenetrable skin and failing, but still trapping him. Shazam’s cohort had him trapped, wrapped up to his waist and crawling higher, crushing tighter and tighter. The coils wrapped tighter and higher, capturing him, now, up to his chest and seeking to move higher. His arms were free, and he used them to beat down upon the rising tide of flesh.

There was no panic in him, though. There was fear – fear of failure, fear of what would happen in they couldn’t stop this thing, but surpassing all the fear was the courage to act and the wisdom to find a solution. The lightning scattered more strongly, and Shazam thought back to when he transformed. There was more power to what he was than strength and speed. He had more gifts to bring to bear than that.

He raised his fist, focusing on it. Focusing on the lighting that pumped through him, as vital and strengthening as blood. He focused and called upon all the power that he knew was inside him, feeling the charge build in his hand, and, once it reached a critical point, clenching and crushing the bolt into a mote of power more focused than anything he had ever seen. It only felt right, as he slammed this concentrated blast of everything he could bear into the scaly neck of the beast, to call out his name, his title, the essence of his power.

With that blow, the charge he had compressed and built was sent into the hydra, paralyzing it and filling it with more energy than its tenuous grip on reality could bear. It froze, twitching slightly, as the lightning carved a path to its core and filled it. Veins of visible electricity spread over its skin, drowning out the tone and color of its hardly real flesh. And as the fragment of power expanded further, past the capacity for the hydra to contain it, it shuddered, and with a flash, detonated and disintegrated.

Its body was no more. All that remained was the stolen scaffolding it had used – any stone, metal and wood it could grasp as its bulk expanded still remained and fell to the ground. The hydra was gone, entirely this time. The one bone that had began the hydra’s growth and eventual rampage gave off its last feeble energies, then flickered and gave out, falling inert. With that great bolt, the sky, too, announced its finale. The heavens opened and began to rain, the strange lightning and thunder that had plagued the city meeting their counterpart as the water finally fell.

Superman was less jocular, this time. Shazam was almost cowed to apology by the seriousness but for the part of him that screamed he had done nothing wrong. Despite his more sober look, there was still warmth in his voice as he said “That was quite some power there. And I didn’t know you could fly, too.”

With a startled glance down, Shazam realized he was flying. Well, less flying than floating, stationary in the air. But still effortlessly opposing gravity. Superman continued, “I think we need to have a talk. Mind if we head somewhere to speak privately?”

Shazam could only respond with agreement. He tried to steer by leaning, then by a sort of lunge forward, but nothing worked until his pushed some of the same power that called the lightning to move him forward. With that, he rocketed after the receding figure of Superman, barely maintaining control of his speed and steering in his excitement.

#shazam #superman #justice league #fanfic

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meguwumibear · 6 years

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Our Love is God

This was inspired by @harringtonhargrove. They mentioned wanted a Heathers and Stranger Things crossover, and I just couldn’t help myself. This is was longer than I anticipated. I had a ton of fun writing this so there may be another part, especially because I want Billy and Steve to interact more.

________________________________________________________________

Steve’s sitting at the bottom of the stairs furiously scribbling in his journal when Heath McNamara and Heath Duke approach him. They’re both dressed in their designated colors: yellow and green, respectively. Heath M is clad in a yellow vest, no shirt underneath, that shows off the muscles he’s spent years acquiring via a decade of football; Heath D is clad in a more respectable green blazer that hides his shape. He’s convinced he’s overweight, despite the fact that he actually weighs less than Heath M. And, shit, if Heath is overweight that makes Steve morbidly obese.

Heath M slams his knee into Steve’s leg sharply. “God, come on, Steve,” he says, not bothering to indicate what he needs from him. The Heaths always just assume that Steve can read their minds. To their credit, there isn’t really much going on in those air heads of theirs, but that doesn’t mean Steve can always discern what they want from him. Actually, he’s never really quite sure what they want with him. The Heaths are nothing more than an enigma.

“What is your damage, Heath,” Steve demands, rubbing his sore leg. All these years of weight lifting, and Heath still underestimates his strength. Steve can already feel a bruise forming where Heath so graciously kneed him. Sometimes he wonders why he even bothered trying to make these men like him.

“Don’t blame me,” Heath says. “Blame Heath. He told me to hall your ass into the caf, pronto. Back me up Heath,” Heath says, nodding at Heath.

Steve turns to look at Heath, knowing full well the green bean would only agree with his yellow counterpart. “Yeah, he really wants to talk to you, Steve,” Heath confirms.

“Okay,” Steve says, closing his journal. “I’m going, Jesus Christ.”

The three of them walk in silence to the cafeteria where the majority of the grade has already gathered to eat a government approved meal of God knows what. Steve thinks that the government has no place regulating what students can and can’t eat. There’s no way that grey slop that both looks and tastes like wet cement they’re trying to pass off as food holds any nutritional value whatsoever. If students want to fuel their bodies with caloric drinks and sugary food they should be allowed to, even if they might end up looking like Martha Dumptruck, who oddly enough was about to become the center of Steve’s attention.

Heath Chandler is standing by their designated table, tray of slop in hand. His outfit is mysteriously void of his signature red, save the crimson cap on his head. “Hello, Heath,” Steve greets him, already dreading what Heath could possibly want from him today. Heath C is many things, and nice is not one of them. Creative, yes, but nice no. Just last week Steve found himself neck deep in dirt, letting the three Heaths shoot cricket balls at him.

“Steve,” Heath says, turning to meet him, “finally. I got a note of Tommy H’s. I need you to forge a hot and horny, but realistically low-key note in Tommy’s handwriting, and we’ll slip it onto Martha Dumptruck’s lunch tray.”

Steve almost cannot believe what he’s hearing. Sure, the Heath’s have done shitty things in the past—you don’t get to be popular at this school without having pulled off at least one undesirable act—but this is a new low, even for them. “Shit, Heath, I don’t have anything against Martha Dunstock.” He took care to use Martha’s real last name and not the pseudonym that had been so cruelly gifted to her.

Heath furrows his blonde brows, “You don’t have anything for her either. Come on it’ll be very. The note’ll give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks.” Heath and Heath smirk at each other, knowing full well that I’m going to relent.

“I’ll think about it,” Steve sighs, only prolonging the inevitable.

“Don’t think,” Heath says, turning to Heath. “Steve needs something to write on. Heath bend over.”

Heath obliges immediately. Heath hands Steve his cherry red clipboard and a pen. Knowing this isn’t a battle he could win—actually, he’s never won a battle with a Heath—Steve positions the clipboard on Heath and looks at Heath for guidance.

“Dear Martha, you’re so sweet,” Heath begins.

Unbeknownst to Steve his actions are attracking the attention of none other than Billy Hargrove, the mysterious new kid with an affliction for fighting. Billy watches as Steve submits so easily to the will of the Heaths with a tender sort of curiosity. The Heath’s reputations precede them, but Billy knows next to nothing about the blue clad Steve Harrington. Needless to say, his interest is peaked by the boy.

Having finished writing the note, Steve hands it off to Heath who in turn hands it over to Heath. Heath was the table, Steve the writer, and Heath the perpetrator, so Heath will have to be the one to clandestinely deliver to note that should never have been written. Steve regrets relinquishing control of the letter the moment it leaves his hands, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. All he can do is watch as Heath slinks behind Martha and slips the note onto her tray.

The Heaths all take their seat at the table. Steve follows suit, unable to take his eyes off of the note. Heath mutters something about whether or not they celebrate Thanksgiving in Africa, so he pipes up, “Oh sure, pilgrims, Indians, tater-tots, it’s a real party continent.” When no one laughs at his comment Steve makes a mental note to himself to remind him that the Heaths don’t keep him around for his sense of humor.

“Harrington, guess what today is,” Heath says, grabbing hold of his clipboard.

“Ouch,” Steve replies. “Lunchtime poll?” Steve hates asking the students lunchtime polls almost as much as he hates forging fake steamy notes. Every week the Heaths come up with some obscure question to ask the students of Hawkins. Last week’s question was: imagine you’ve gone deep sea diving and stumbled upon a peculiar brass lamp. As you reach out and touch the lamp, a Genie emerges and promises to grant you one wish, but there’s a catch. Once your wish is granted you must assume the role of the Genie. Do you make the wish, and if so, what do you wish for? “So what’s the question?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, so what’s the question, Heath,” Heath parrots.

“Goddamn, Heath. You were with my in study hall when I thought of it,” he scolds.

Heath looks down at his plate taking a sudden interest in his milk carton. “I forgot,” he apologizes.

“Such a pillowcase,” Heath jests.

Steve wants to stand up for Heath, but he knows if he does he’ll just end up on Heath’s shit list, which is a list no one wants to be on. So, instead, he just asks, “This wouldn’t be that bizarro thing you were babbling about over the phone last night, would it?”

Heath rolls his eyes, “Of course it is.”

Heath stands and starts walking, Steve’s cue to do the same. As he begins to walk Steve’s gaze meets the gaze of Billy Hargrove, who hasn’t stopped looking at the kid since he first laid eyes on him. For a brief moment, all the air in Steve’s lungs disappears as he melt under the stare of the curly haired stranger. Billy—who’s name Steve will learn before lunch is over—is staring at Steve like he wants nothing more than to devour him. His stare is positively electric. Once Billy realizes he has Steve locked in his gaze, he suggestively runs a hand through his blonde hair. The action catches Steve so off guard that he’s only brought crashing back down to reality when he slams into something, or rather someone.

“Oh, Steve, I’m sorry,” says a startled looking Jonathon Byers.

“Jonathon Byers, gosh,” Steve muses. “Hey, I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it to your birthday party last month.”

Jonathon shrugs, causing a bit of his unkempt brown hair to fall over his eyes. He pushes it away from his face in one deft motion. “It’s okay,” Jonathon tells him. “Your mom said you had a big date. I think I’d probably miss my own birthday for a date.”

Steve’s mom hadn’t exactly lied about him having a date, though he wasn’t sure how “big” it was. The Heaths have been trying to get his cherry popped ever since they initiated him into their eccentric group, so Heath C took it upon himself to set Steve up on a date with Nancy Wheeler. Steve liked Nancy just fine; she was pretty in a sort of innocent way, with big doe eyes and naturally messy hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep with her. There was just no spark. The two of them spent the night haphazardly sipping beers by his pool instead.

“Don’t say that,” Steve says to Jonathon, guilt snaking its way into his heart. It was no secret that Jonathon had a mega crush on Nancy, so going out with the girl on his birthday was kind of like two big old fucks yous in one.

“Come on, Steve,” Heath huffs, growing impatient with him. Cool kids like Heath have no time for outcasts like Jonathon. He roughly takes hold of Steve’s arm and manhandles him away from Jonathon.

As the two approach their first table, one of the girls lets out a quiet, “Oh great, here comes Heath.”

Another kids follows up with an, “Oh shit.”

Both of these comments were made loud enough for Heath to hear, but he is undeterred by the words. “Hi, Carol,” he smiles. “Love your cardigan.” Heath says the comment just nice enough that the sarcasm flies right over Carol’s head.

“Thanks,” she smiles. “I just got it last night at the limited. Like totally blew my allowance.”

Heath sucks in an irritated breath and says, “Now check this out. You win five million dollars from the publisher’s sweepstakes, and the same day that that Big Ed guy gives you the check, aliens land on Earth and say they’re going to blow up the world in two days. What do you do?” Wow. Somehow this week’s question manages to be even more outlandish than the last.

A boy sitting across from Carol is the first to answer, “That’ easy. I just slide that wad over to my father, because he is like one of the top brokers in the state.” Clearly the kid hasn’t grasped that even the best bank broker in the world couldn’t save the world from a hypothetical impending alien attack. What good does investing the money do if you won’t be around to use the payoff?

“If I got that money,” Carol begins, upset that the spotlight has been taken from her, “I’d give it all to the homeless. Every cent.”

She says this in a tone made to make the people around her feel inferior. She says it as if the money will be useful to the homeless after the world is gone. “You’re beautiful,” Steve tells her, turning to start on the next table.

“If you’re going to openly be a bitch-” Heath starts following him, but Steve cuts him off.

“It’s just, Heath, why can’t we talk to different kinds of people?”

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Heath guffaws. “Do I look like Mother Theresa? If I did I probably wouldn’t mind talking to the geek squad.” He gestures towards a table in the back of the room where the school mathletes gather. One of them—a lanky kid with thick black glasses too big for his thin face—spits up the milk he’d been drinking when he sees Heath gesture their way.

“Does it not bother you that everyone in this school thinks you’re a piranha?” Steve asks before he can stop himself. He takes one look at the scowl on Heath’s face and knows he’s crossed a line.

“Like I give a shit,” Heath huffs, trying to shake off the insult. “They all want me as a friend or a fuck. I’m worshipped in Hawkins, and I’m only a junior.” He pauses to suck in a breath then adds, “I can’t believe this; we’re going to a party at Remington University tonight, and we’re brushing up on our conversational skills with the scum of the school.”

Steve shakes his head and turns to meet the geek squad. “Hey,” he says, flashing them a smile. Heath can piss about it later; Steve’s tired of pretending he’s better than the other nine hundred kids in the school.

“Hi,” one of the boys replies. It’s the same kid who spit up his milk earlier. There’s a wet spot on the front of his shirt that’ll no doubt become a stain.

Heath sighs and storms over. “So this is what’s called a lunchtime poll,” he says, then repeats the absurdly long question. Steve manages to convince him to make a full round of the cafeteria, so before the afternoon is complete they’ve gathered a large variety of answers ranging from traveling to Egypt with a girl to using the money for an end of the world get together. The former answer was provided by the milk nerd, the latter by Jonathon. Tommy offered up that he’d pay Madonna a million bucks to sit on his face have her ride him like the Kentucky Derby. Steve liked Jonathon’s answer better.

Heath and Heath run over to Steve and Heath, whipping them around in the direction of Martha. “Oh my god, here we go,” one of them says. Probably Heather M, but Steve’s spent so much time with the three of them that he knows anyone of them could’ve said it.

He watches Martha with a heavy heart, wishing to God that he could turn back time and unwrite the stupid letter. He should’ve refused to write the thing, or at least he should’ve fought harder not to. The poor girl doesn’t deserve to be tormented like this. No one does. His brain is screaming at him to intervene, but his body just won’t listen. So, he just stands there, rooted to the ground, watching Martha pick her may over to the nefarious Tommy H. He thinks he’ll go to hell for this.

Tommy and his gaggle of idiots all fall silent as Martha approaches. She looks hesitantly at the letter in her hand before dropping it in front of Tommy. Behind Steve, the Heaths giggle gleefully. Tommy takes one look at the letter and bursts into cacophonous laughter. He tosses the thing at his friends who upon reading it join in his festivities. The Heaths too have begun laughing, though quieter to avoid drawing attention to themselves. Steve prays to the heavens for God to strike him down with a bolt of lightning.

Without meaning to, Steve glances back at Billy, who shakes his head at him. The kid knows Steve is guilty; the kid knows exactly what he’s done. Steve forces himself to peel his attention away from Billy to look at Martha. She’s already halfway out the door, sobs audible over the boy’s laughter.

Steve balls his fingers into fists and walks away from the Heaths. He knows if he spends one more second in their company he’s bound to deck one of them in their pubescent faces. Heath C follows him, taking hold of his arm when he’s close enough and says, “You wanted to be a member of the most powerful clique in school. If I wasn’t already the head of it, I’d want the same thing. Come on, Steve, you used to have a sense of humor.”

The rest of the Heaths find their way over to the two of them before Steve can respond. He quickly swallows down whatever retort he was about to throw Heath’s way. It’s one thing to challenge the guy in private, and whole nother thing to challenge him with an audience.

Steve chances a glance back Billy’s way. The damn kid is still watching him. Heath M notices their heated exchange, “God Steve drool much?” When Steve doesn’t say anything Heath continues, “His name is Billy Hargrove. He’s in my American history class.”

That’s it, Steve decides. He has to meet this mysterious new kid with the scraggily mullet. He saunters over to Billy’s table, his confidence faltering the closer he gets. Never the less he forces one shakily leg in front of the other until he’s standing directly in front of the kid. Billy eyes him curiously.

“Hello Billy Hargrove,” Steve says.

“Greetings and salutations,” Billy replies, giving Steve a once over. The intensity of Billy’s gaze makes Steve’s cheeks redden. No one has ever looked at him this way before. When he’s done sizing him up, Billy points towards the Heaths and asks, “You a Heath?”

“No,” Steve laughs, “I’m a Steve. Harrington.” He adds his last name as an afterthought. Billy offers no additional commentary; he just keeps looking at Steve in a way that makes his skin crawl. “This may seem like a really stupid question,” Steve blurts out, desperate to end the silence.

“There are no stupid questions,” Billy tells him.

Steve bites his lip; clearly the kid has never participated in a lunchtime poll before. “You inherit five million dollars the same day aliens land on the Earth and say they’re going to blow it up in two days. What do you do?”

Billy’s blonde eyes knit together, “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard.” After that response, Steve doesn’t think the kid is going to answer, but to his surprise Billy adds, “Ah, I don’t know. I’d probably row out to the middle of a lake somewhere, bring along a bottle of tequila, my sax, and some Bach.”

Steve smiles at him, “How very.”

“Come on, Steve,” comes a voice from behind Steve. He’d been so caught up in the moment that he didn’t even hear Heath C approach. Heath takes hold of Steve’s arm and starts dragging him away from Billy.

“Later,” Steve manages to say to Billy.

“Definitely,” Billy responds.

#steve x billy #harringrove #stranger things #heathers #steve harrington #billy hargrove #this is an au #most of the dialogue comes directly from the movie #im such trash for these two yikes #there's probably going to be a part two but no promises #billy x steve #billy hargrove x steve harrington

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