samanthahufflepuff

[samanthahufflepuff]

omegaverse nsfw for @shieldofiron 🤍

Steve always tries to pretend he’s not into the shit Billy does to him — he pulls faces, gives the weakest complaints, glares.

Like that time Billy bent him over his desk in his bedroom and ate him out until he was a sloppy little mess, arching his back and baring his neck and bitching the entire time until Billy pulled him onto his lap and onto his knot.

Or whenever Billy’s shoving his face into his omega’s neck to nose at his scent glands, nuzzling and licking and biting at them so Steve stinks of him and Steve tries to act bothered and annoyed — but Billy’s rubbing at the crotch of his boyfriend’s jeans to feel the tell-tale bulge there.

Steve never really means it. He’s just a bitch. And a brat.

Like now, when it’s late at the quarry and he’s shoving the pretty boy into the back seat of the Beamer, Steve settling against the leather and glaring up at him.

Billy doesn’t say anything, just smirks as he shuts the door behind him as he settles on top of Steve, pressing his heavy body down onto him, his nose going for those scent glands again and inhaling the bittersweet florals there.

“You don’t have to fucking push me,” Steve huffs just above the music playing from the tape in the deck, his hand weakly shoving at Billy’s shoulders, like he’s making a show of it.

Billy licks across that gland, tastes sweet honeysuckles on his tongue, and Steve goes still — goes sweet for him and only him, tilting his head with a soft sigh, parting his thighs obediently.

“I know I didn’t have to,” Billy hums as he settles between Steve’s thighs, “But, you like it.”

“No I don’t,” Steve pouts, his cheeks burning hot.

Billy moves his mouth up, noses at Steve’s temple as his lips press to his omega’s ear, playfully growling, “Then why do you smell like a bitch in heat, hm?”

He can smell Steve’s slick already, hears the pleasured little whine his pretty boy makes as he ruts his hips up against Billy, the hard press of his cock trapped in his jeans making Billy’s mouth water.

“S’your fault,” Steve gasps as Billy hurriedly pushes his boyfriend’s shirt up and presses kisses to his chest, sucking little bruises there just to feel the hard grip Steve gets on his hair.

A fistful of blond curls in Steve’s hand is a powerful thing. Billy feels the pull, directing him lower, and it’s like his scalp is directly linked to his cock with how he’s twitching in his tight jeans as Steve pulls on his hair again.

“What, you want my mouth?” Billy breathes as he tugs Steve’s jeans open and down, letting the other kick them off towards the front seat.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, watching Billy pull his briefs down, his cock slapping almost wetly against his lower stomach once it’s free.

“Where, baby?” Billy asks with a soft moan as he wraps his hand around Steve’s fat cock, so fucking big for an omega it drives him crazy, “Right here?” He asks as he smears the pearl of precum with his thumb, swirls it in little circles just to watch Steve’s jaw drop.

“Fuck,” he moans, looks so pretty like this, so needy. Billy loves it; Steve will beg with those big brown eyes of his whenever he really wants something but doesn’t want to say it.

Like now. Billy knows what Steve wants. He knows he’s gonna be burying his face between Steve’s cheeks and lapping at his hole, fucking him with his tongue until he’s crying, but he waits.

“Yes or no,” Billy chides him gently, stroking up and down so slowly, driving his baby wild as he stares up at Steve and asks, “You gonna be good for me?”

It works like a charm. Steve’s eyes glaze over a bit, that honeysuckle scent filling the car, and it’s so thick Billy could almost choke on it. Almost.

He breathes it in deep, feels a pleased little rumble in his chest on the exhale, a sweet little sound for his omega — who chirps in response, his cheeks flushed with pleasure.

Steve nods and whispers, “Yeah.”

“Then grab the back of your knees and show me that pretty little hole, baby,” Billy hums, watching as Steve scrambles to do just that, grabbing and spreading his legs as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

And despite the bitching and moaning that Steve always does, or how stubborn he can be, he’s still a good omega. The best, really. Always presenting himself for his alpha, just like this.

And in other sweet, non-sexual ways, too. But Billy doesn’t want to think about that.

No, instead he gives Steve another little rumble from his chest and grabs the back of his thighs, squeezing them as he lowers his mouth to lick the flat of his tongue from Steve’s hole and up to the tip of his dick.

The moan his boyfriend makes is fucking filthy, taps at something a little primal in Billy’s brain, makes him want to knot his pretty boy and bite his neck, claim him for all to see and understand just who he belongs to.

So, he does.

But not before he’s licking into Steve with purpose, stuffing his tongue as deep as he can into his omega, listening to the cute little whimpers and whines and ‘fuck’s and ‘Billy’s that leave his mouth as he eats out his sweetheart.

Steve’s hand is in his hair again, trembling from pleasure as he rocks his hips down, gripping and pulling as he gasps and moans, “I’m gonna—Billy, I’m—”

He licks his omega through his orgasm, as he always does — as any respectful alpha should. He can feel Steve tense, his chirping so soft as he goes a little limp, totally spent.

Billy fucking slurps the slick on his tongue, because he knows it makes Steve’s nose scrunch like the princess he is, and surfaces to look his fill.

Steve’s catching his breath, his hands still gripping his thighs, his stomach covered in cum with his cock untouched.

That feeling washes over Billy again. It starts low, at the bottom of his spine, and it crawls up and up and up until all he can think is mine, all mine.

Steve must see the look in his eye or smell it on him, because he tilts his head, baring his neck.

Billy’s immediately there, smearing the slick on his mouth across Steve’s scent glands, breathing in deep and growling in delight.

Honeysuckles and something sharp, citrus. Orange juice.

“Need you,” Billy groans, moving his mouth up to nip at Steve’s jaw, kissing across it and up to his chin, “Been so good, Stevie, hm?”

“Kiss me,” Steve whispers, so desperate for it, ducking his chin and finding Billy’s mouth, licking the slick from his tongue with a trembling whimper.

Steve always gets like this after he’s cum. So clingy. Needs Billy to kiss him or he’ll fucking die.

Which is kinda sweet.

Billy sucks on his omega’s tongue before pulling away, shushing the whined protests he immediately receives as he opens his jeans and pushes them down, grabbing the base of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of slick and spit at Steve’s hole before finding his lips again.

He pushes his tongue into Steve’s mouth just as he slides home inside of him, groaning at the familiar wet heat of both.

Steve’s stuffing his hands under Billy’s shirt, fingernails digging into skin as his alpha bottoms out, stuffing him full until his knot teases at his rim.

“Want it,” Steve pants into his mouth, his brows furrowed as he begs, “Please.”

“It’s all yours, baby,” Billy groans as he pulls his hips back, his eyes rolling a little at the way Steve’s body clutches at him, doesn’t want him to move, just wants his fat knot and nothing else.

He begins to move again, lets Steve seal their mouths together again as he fucks him, one hand pushing a thigh back while the other steadies himself, feeling the car rock and shake as the music gently plays over the filthy sound of their bodies meeting.

The air is thick and hot and Billy never wants to stop. He wants this forever.

He feels Steve tense under him again, notices how sloppy his kisses become, his nails scratching lines down Billy’s back as his moans get higher.

No fucking way.

“You gonna cum again?” Billy grins, presses his mouth to Steve’s ear again when his boyfriend turns his head, “Feels that good, huh, princess?”

“Shut up,” Steve whines, his voice soft and small and so telling.

“You don’t gotta pretend,” he can’t help it, he loves teasing Steve, “We both know you love it — you’ve cum on my knot enough times to prove it.”

Steve fixes him with the weakest and cutest little glare, but it wavers as Billy ruts his hips deep, presses his knot against Steve’s rim again, like a promise.

“You want it?” Billy growls low, pressing his face against Steve’s neck, licking over his scent again.

“Please,” Steve sobs, so close now, teetering on the edge, “Billy, please.”

He feels his balls draw up at the sobbed little begging and ruts his hips again, pushing his knot inside and locking them into place just as he bites down on Steve’s neck hard.

Steve cums with a cry, spilling between them again as Billy tastes copper. Not a lot, nothing like the first time he’d claimed Steve, but the taste of it woven with the scent of his omega finally soothes that need inside him.

Mine, all mine.

He relaxes with a soft huff, licks over the bite affectionately, nuzzling at it with the tip of his nose as Steve chirps happily.

Lifting his head, Billy spots the happy and soft little smile on Steve’s face, and watches him chirp again, their gazes held.

Billy rumbles, nearly purrs, and Steve’s smile grows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy smirks, “So happy on your knot.”

Steve shrugs with a matching little smirk, like the cat who got the cream, and Billy loves him.

#harringrove fic #harringrove

[samanthahufflepuff]

#stuilly #scream'd #stuilly video

[samanthahufflepuff]

The Career Fair

#drarry art #drarry #drarry comic

[samanthahufflepuff]

I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship

#ao3

[samanthahufflepuff]

When Steve panicked for the first time while Billy was over, it was fucking humiliating.

Honestly, he expected the blonde to ditch him right there on the bathroom floor. Steve had worked himself into the corner under the window, eyes covered by his shaking hands so Billy couldn’t see the tears flooding his eyes.

Steve felt hot— his skin was red and blotchy, he didn’t even have to see it to know. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the heat in his face, the suffocating tightness in his chest, and the shame. The overwhelming clutch of emotion that sometimes just swallowed him up like a wave.

It had been worse since Nancy.

It had been way worse since the Tunnels.

But it had never happened like this— with someone else there to witness it. Especially not someone like Billy Hargrove.

The attacks were their most infuriating, though, when he didn’t know why it was happening. He could retrace the last thirty minutes, he remembered that he’d been dreaming. He remembered that he woke up. He remembered realizing that he couldn’t breathe, that it was so dark in his room, and suddenly every shadow felt like it was moving.

The fear of of anyone— especially Billy Hargrove— finding out about these attacks somehow trumped the fear of the shadows. He ran to the bathroom, unable to breathe, unable to think beyond get away, away from him, away from this, you were never good enough anyway—

And he had ended up on the cold bathroom tile, hiccuping through sobs and feeling Billy’s eyes on him.

Those piercing blue, beautiful eyes.

Steve wasn’t supposed to think they were beautiful, this wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Billy was an asshole. A real and honest bastard, sometimes Steve could still feel the force of his punch when he kissed him. He wasn’t supposed to care about Billy, but it didn’t feel like just fucking anymore, and—

“Hey— Hey, hey, Harrington!” Billy’s voice was loud, even through the pounding of Steve’s heart in his ears. Trembling with the force of his desperate breaths, Steve managed to peek out at the bright room.

The blonde was crouching on his knees on the cold tile in nothing but Steve’s borrowed sweatpants. He wasn’t laughing, he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t anything— maybe very confused, maybe totally lost in the face of whatever the Hell Steve was doing… but he was still there.

He peeked back at Steve through the gap between his fingers, and his lips quirked up into some sort of smile. It was probably a smirk, Billy was probably thinking about all the ways he could ruin Steve with this…

“Steve, what happened?” His voice was soft, like Dustin when he talked to Dart the fucking Demogorgen, and Steve wanted to roll his eyes. Not as badly as he wanted to be held, though.

Billy only called Steve “Steve” when he was really serious.

“Hey, c’mon— talk to me, Pretty Boy. You’re fucking freaking me out…”

His vision was tunneling down to Billy’s face and spots of utter darkness— Steve wasn’t breathing, his chest hurt. He gasped a breath and sobbed, unable to stop himself.

There were two familiar hands on him in less than a second— so gentle, unlike even the most tender times they’d kissed— and Steve jumped at the sensation. Billy made a noise, some calming, cooing sound in the back of his throat that had Steve whimpering and leaning closer. Something had loosened in his throat just a little, and he shoved aside his stupid pride to let himself be cared for.

He never thought Billy Hargrove would be such a comforting person. He would have expected awkwardness and an emotionally stunted pat on the back. But this was just what he needed, and it wasn’t complicated. Just an arm around his back and a steady heartbeat to listen to.

It was still humiliating. It was then, and it would be later, and Billy was still an asshole, so he’d still pick on him for it.

But, it was enough right then just to breathe in the other boy’s shitty cologne and bury the traitorous hope that maybe Billy actually liked him. That maybe this wasn’t bullshit, and it wasn’t going to end in a noxious tunnel full of fire.

He sighed and squeezed his tired eyes shut while Billy smoked a cigarette like his life depended on it.

It had been just another night, sleepless and panicking in the dark. Steve hated the shame still clawing it’s way through him, and the fact that Billy had seen. But he was so glad he wasn’t alone anymore.

Billy never mentioned it. Steve could cry, he was so grateful.

#harringrove #harringrove fic

[samanthahufflepuff]

GOOGLE YOUR FICS

In the past couple of months I've found the entirety of Leo Inter Serpentes has been stolen and reposted on Wattpad and Scribd. Wattpad was great when I report the theft, and took them all down within like twelve hours. 10/10 for the complaints staff at Wattpad Still waiting for Scribd to even acknowledge my report, let alone do anything about it. Their entire site seems to be riddled with stolen fics as well as stolen published works. They also monetise it, so probably breaking a few fair use laws with that one So please, please search your fics to see if they've been reposted anywhere. And maybe consider locking your AO3 fics to members only, in the hopes that that might at least minimise the chances of them being stolen

[samanthahufflepuff]

tiktok is such an awful app, it's almost designed to feed you misinformation and expose you to insane discourse. unlike beloved tumblr, the app that feeds me misinformation and exposes me to insane discourse

[samanthahufflepuff]

nothing can be certain except (death) and taxes

Summary: When the words on a person's skin are the last words their soulmate will say before death separates them, Steve has never hated being loved so much. Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.3k Content Warnings: Temporary Character Death (EMPHASIS ON THE TEMPORARY), Canon-Typical Violence, Descriptions of Injuries Read On AO3: Coming soon (to a theatre near you) A/N: This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! Thank you so much for letting me participate again, this was so much fun to work on. @harringrove-relay-race

Steve always hated the idea of soulmates. 

The idea of a perfect match out there for him could have been a comfort, if it weren’t for the words carried on his arm his entire life. How cruel was it, for the universe to have perfect matches but only confirm them at the end of their time together? The words could’ve been a comfort, if they weren’t the confirmation of the last words he’d ever hear from his soulmate before they left the world permanently. 

I love you.

How cruel of his soulmate, to leave him with those words. 

Steve didn’t know Billy was his soulmate—there was no way of knowing, really—but he knew. It was obvious in the way that Steve’s entire world changed the moment Billy moved to town, and in the way that even hearing his voice was enough to bring a smile to Steve’s face. 

The other man hadn’t made it easy, especially in the early days when he was more a feral cat who struck out at any signs of affection made toward him. He could be rude, and often picked fights first rather than try to talk things out, but he was also fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and the more people who cared in return the more Billy seemed incapable of going without a gentle touch, even if it meant most of the time he and Steve ended up tangled together in a pretzled mess when they spent time with one another.

And the thing was, Steve was happy. Totally, painfully so. He looked upon Billy and wondered how anyone could ever make him feel so much all at once. Then he’d look down at his own arm and wonder how much it would hurt to go back to how it had been before, without Billy.

The Upside Down had taken so much from too many people, but Steve knew, standing on the second floor of Starcourt Mall, that he would be the one to ensure its downfall, no matter what.

Time moved both too slow and too fast, leaving Steve helpless to watch as Billy stood between El and the Mind Flayer, arms stretched out wide as if to accept his fate without fear.

He heard screaming, likely some of it was his own. He wasn’t sure how he made it to Billy’s side so quickly, just that he blinked and suddenly his knees were stained red from all of the blood spilling from Billy now. 

“Why’d you have to do that, you asshole?” Steve felt like he was choking on every breath, the air stinging against his chest as he watched Billy’s chest stutter and falter painfully. Please, take the air from my lungs. I don’t want it if you’re not here. 

“‘m sorry.” Billy’s eyes were on Max’s then, but the hand Steve was holding squeezed, as if to let him in on the secret too. 

He knew Billy had a complicated relationship with his step-sister, one that he’d admitted could have been better once they got out from under his dad’s roof. If they had more time.

It was like Steve was watching all of the time they were supposed to have melt away around them. It seeped out onto the floor like the blood that was supposed to be keeping Billy’s heart beating. 

“You’re supposed to stay,” Steve said the moment Billy’s attention turned to him. There was a glassiness to the man’s eyes, as though he wasn’t really seeing Steve. He’d take it anyway, because there wasn’t enough time to wait for Billy’s attention to refocus. He wasn’t sure it ever would. “What happened to graduating and getting the hell outta here? Getting in your car and just taking off?”

He’d balked at the idea of driving off without any plan, with minimal bags packed. Now, Steve would do anything if it meant they could have that future. They could slowly make their way to California, stopping at all of the cheesy tourist sites along the way. Steve would wrestle Billy into a dorky hat at the largest ball of yarn in the country and would make a solid attempt at getting arrested for trying to pet a bear at Yellowstone. He’d share sketchy motel rooms with him and complain about how uncomfortable the mattresses were, and even accept the teasing about him being a rich kid through and through.

He’d take all of it, for just a little bit of time.

Billy was coughing now, and the dark blood staining his lips and chin were only another sign of the inevitable. Even through all of that, he managed to say something. 

“I lo—”

“No,” Steve snapped out, hand still holding Billy’s squeezing tightly. No, it wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready to lose him, not when they were just finding out that they’d been right this whole time. “No, don’t say it.”

If he didn’t say it, they could have more time. They could have more, as long as those three words on Steve’s arm were never spoken aloud.

Except the light in Billy’s eyes faded all the same, and the words he’d never actually said felt like a mockery on Steve’s arm.

“Steve, you have to go to the funeral. You’ll be upset with yourself later if you don’t.”

Robin still came by, sometimes. He wasn’t good company, hadn’t been since Starcourt, but she sat with him anyway.

“He’s not dead,” Steve said, arms curling tighter around his pillow like if he just held on it might feel like Billy eventually.

“Steve.” The words were sad, wobbly with tears he knew she was trying to bravely fight off. 

“He’s not. He didn’t say it, so he’s not gone.”

They’ve had this conversation before. Once, three days after Starcourt when she was still required to watch over him in case his head injury from the Russian interrogation turned for the worst. It had been in the late hours of the night, both of them laid in his bed awake and staring at the ceiling. She’d turned to face him, hand coming out to hold onto her friend when he admitted what he knew. 

Billy couldn’t be dead, because if he was then he would’ve said it.

“I know you lo—” The word cracked harshly on her tongue. “I know how important he was to you. But he’s, there’s no way he made it. You know that, right? He’d want you to move on.”

The thought alone had a dull laugh building in Steve’s chest. The longer it sounded the more hysterical it came, until he was laughing and letting out hoarse sobs in between. Robin’s eyes were wide and her lips were parted in both shock and horror at the outburst, clearly not knowing how to handle him now.

“He wouldn’t,” Steve said once the laughter died down, leaving behind only the tears. “The bastard would’ve told me not to move on. He’d expect a mourning widow for at least a decade, maybe two. But I won’t do that because he didn’t say the words so he’s not dead. He can’t be, he’s too stubborn to die in this fucking town.”

“Have you…you didn’t say the words on his arm either.” Max, the little traitor. “You’re allowed to love someone even if they’re not the one, you know? Maybe there’s someone else out there, and that’s not to say you have to stop loving him, just that you can love this person too.”

It was the more reasonable answer, but the mere thought of accepting that Billy was truly gone sent his heart threatening to burst straight out of his chest. There had to be another explanation, because there was no way that the guy who snuck out near every night despite the threat of discovery simply so Steve wouldn’t be lonely in his big, empty home wasn’t his soulmate.

“I can’t mourn someone who’s not dead, Robin. Tell Max and Susan I’m sorry.”

When the Upside Down inevitably came back, Steve didn’t feel his usual amounts of fear.

He was determined—completely focused and ready to take down the thing that had taken too much from him already. 

When Max admitted that the visions being sent to her by the fucking thing were of Billy, Steve thought he’d only ever see in shades of red. 

Because how dare that monster try to twist and mutilate any of Max’s affection for her brother into something like guilt? How dare he try to ruin the shaky truce that they’d come to just before Billy died?

How dare that monster wear Billy’s face, and use his voice?

Even if it took the rest of him, Steve would make sure that nothing from the Upside Down to crawl its way into Hawkins ever again.

“Steve! What the hell happened?” That was Robin’s voice, though it sounded further away than he thought she actually was. 

He was still seeing in tunnel vision, vision slightly blurry and blood pounding in his ears as he surveilled the scene, ensuring no more of those demobats had appeared.

He didn’t even feel the bites taken out of him until the others got near, Nancy’s worried gaze focused on the exposed skin just above his hips. 

“Hey guys, I think I found the gate,” Steve forced out on his next heaving breath.

That was a lot of blood, wasn’t it? It seemed the Upside Down took his promise seriously and would try to take literal pieces of him with it. 

That was fine, so long as this ended with Vecna’s plan stopped short in its tracks.

“Something’s coming,” Eddie called out, eyes watching the treeline ahead of them as Nancy and Robin looked over Steve’s wounds. They wouldn’t be fatal, at least not for awhile yet. He still had enough time to avenge his soulmate’s not-death.

Steve didn’t have his trusty nail bat, or much else in the way of a weapon. But he’d taken down a pack of demobats with nothing but his hands (and teeth), so whatever had the nerve to attack them now would come to regret it, of that he was sure.

It had to be another trick. Maybe this was Vecna trying to take hold of Steve’s guilt now, forcing him to see the one thing that repeated in his head every night in his dreams. Because walking out of the trees now was Billy fucking Hargrove, still in a bloodstained white tank though having also acquired a jacket that looked suspiciously like one Steve used to wear constantly in his earlier high school years. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the fake Billy called out, “you’re doing what the fucker wants.”

Robin was nudging Steve’s arm, threatening to send him toppling into the dirt with how unsteady his injuries had already made him. She looked more hopeful than he felt, watching him with confusion as if she expected Steve to take off running into fake-Billy’s arms without question.

He knew Billy couldn’t be dead, but why the fuck would he be here?

The fake-Billy was upon them now, stood in front of Steve and looking at him with one eyebrow raised. It was this look that made Steve’s knees crumple in on his own weight, because God that was such a Billy move to challenge him even while announcing his not-death.

“You’re not dead,” Steve gasped out, stumbling back a step in an attempt to stay upright. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

“Then why d’you still look like you’re seeing a ghost, Harrington?”

The smile on Billy’s face was small, a little tug of the corner of his lips like he was still insistent on hiding it around other people. It said enough, though. 

This was Billy, back from the dead. He hadn’t said the words and he hadn’t died, and all of that time Steve thought they’d lost was never really gone after all. 

The kiss was pretty bad, by Steve Harrington standards. He rushed forward too roughly and their teeth clicked together awkwardly as Steve grabbed both sides of Billy’s face and pressed their mouths together. They had a better kiss right after, when Steve pulled back and watched Billy with a wild gaze until the blonde pressed their lips together again, hands holding onto Steve so tightly he was sure there’d be bruises left behind later. He didn’t care, not when it was another sign that Billy hadn’t truly been gone.

There was something desperate and wild in Billy’s eyes too, like he hadn’t quite believed this moment would ever happen either. Steve didn’t know what he had to go through to survive this long in the Upside Down, and while he’s sure he’ll find out eventually he can’t bring himself to care in the moment because all he could think was Billy isn’t dead.

“I lo—”

“I know, me too,” Steve cut him off, never wanting to hear those words in Billy’s voice. He knew, too, that eventually he would just as he’d known that their end did not come in the main walkway of Starcourt Mall. But for now, he could find peace in delaying the inevitable, in letting their hold on each other say everything those words could have and more.

There was still so much to do, too many important parts of their lives to fight for and protect. It felt a little more possible, though, with Billy by his side.

After all, who else could say they cheated the universe? They’d confirmed for themselves what everyone else could only guess at: Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove were meant for each other, and it was as simple as that.

I am so pleased to hand it off to the amazing and lovely @greyghoulclub ✨

#harringrove #harringrove fic

[samanthahufflepuff]

#stuilly

[samanthahufflepuff]

So I just saw a post by a random personal blog that said “don’t follow me if we never even had a conversation before” and?????? Not to be rude but literally what the fuck??????????

I’ve had people (non-pornbots) try to strike conversation out of nowhere in my DMs recently, and now I’m wondering if they were doing that because they wanted to follow me and thought they needed to interact first. I feel compelled to say, just in case, that it’s totally okay to follow this blog (or my side blog, for that matter) even if we’ve never talked before.

Also, I’m legit confused. Is this how follow culture works right now? It was worded like it’s common sense but is that really a thing?

[samanthahufflepuff]

draco & harry by @elivrayn

[posted with permission from the artist!]

#drarry #drarry art

[samanthahufflepuff]

Dear Younger Me

My piece for the @harringrove-relay-race!!!

I'm now passing the baton on to @oopsiedaisiesbaby! I can’t wait to see what you’ve written!

4k - M

***

When Billy’s therapist had first assigned him the project, to write letters to his younger self detailing the twists and turns his life would take, and how he’d somehow managed to navigate them and get to a place where he could truly call himself happy, he’d laughed, because frankly, it sounded like a waste of time.

He knew he was happy and successful, so what good would it do to tell the long gone, scared, angry seventeen year old version of himself about it? But the more he wrote, filling page after page with his messy scrawl, the more he felt that he could let go of all the hurt and pain of his youth. It felt good. So good, in fact, that he’d allowed himself to be talked into giving Steve the letters to read.

Now though, as he stands on Steve’s front porch, he feels a really strong urge to run. It’s too late though, he’s already rung the doorbell, and he can hear Steve’s approaching footsteps. There’s no way he’d get back into his car and out of sight before Steve opens the door. He takes a deep breath, holding the stack of letters in front of himself.

“Hey Billy,” Steve greeted him, a grin spreading over his face, looking unfairly sexy, shirtless on this hot summer night. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you at 10pm on a Tuesday?”

“Uhhhh,” Billy replies, almost chickening out and saying he was in the neighbourhood and in the mood for some company and a beer, knowing Steve won’t ask questions, good guy that he is, but he knows that its important for Steve to read the letters, for Billy to let him in, if he ever wants to be more than friends with the man. Steve’s made it clear that he wants Billy, so the ball is firmly in Billy’s court. So, he takes another deep breath and hands the envelopes to Steve. “I want you to read these. Or my therapist does. But I do too. Just read them, okay, pretty boy?” With that, he walks away before Steve can answer.

***

At first, Steve’s confused when his doorbell rings at 10pm, and then he’s excited when he finds Billy on his front porch. They usually hang out pretty steadily, grabbing beers after work, having BBQs with Max and Lucas, watching endless movies, and hiking in the woods on the edge of town, but lately, every time Steve asks Billy to do anything, he claims that he’s busy working on a project, but won’t tell Steve any details about it. He’s starting to worry that Billy’s trying to freeze him out.

His excitement turns back to confusion when Billy hands him a stack of envelopes, telling him to read what’s inside of them, but he does as he’s told, grabbing the beer that he’d cracked open just before the doorbell had rung and taking it out to the backyard, turning on the patio lights so he can read.

He pulls a small stack of papers from the first envelope, unfolding them to find a letter.

“Dear younger me,

I know you’re upset right now. It’s not easy leaving your friends, your school, the ocean, the only home you’ve ever known behind to move to the middle of butt fuck nowhere. I won’t lie, it’s going to suck at first. Neil’s been with Susan long enough that he isn’t putting a show on in front of her anymore. He’s going to yell and threaten you and get in your face.

Starting at a new school is going to be terrifying, and it’s good to put on a brave face, to not show fear, but try to remember that it’s ok to admit that everything isn’t ok sometimes. Even if it’s just to yourself, curled up in your bed late at night. Let the tears fall, I promise you’ll feel better afterwards.

It won’t be long until you meet Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins High. You’re going to be such a dick to him, and he’s going to spend a long time hating you for it. You’re going to spend a long time hating yourself for it. You’ll eventually work your way to friendship, but you’ll save a lot of time if you don’t spend your entire senior year of high school treating him like he’s dirt on the bottom of your shoes.

Because you can’t manage to get your head out of your ass, Steve’s going to push, rightfully so, and you’re going to pull, until the tension’s going to come to a head at Harrington’s graduation party. The night’s going to start with the two of you throwing barbs back and forth and end with you on your knees in the Harrington’s pool house, Steve’s cock between your lips. You’re barely even going to stay long enough for him to finish cumming, to scared to see what’ll happen in the aftermath, but you really should. Tell him how you feel about him, tell him that the way you treated him all year was an act, a way to protect your heart, and his response just might surprise you. You never know.”

Steve has to stop reading for a minute, his face flushing as he thinks back to his graduation night, how good Billy had looked on his knees, looking up at Steve as his tongue swirled around the head of his cock. He remembers how strong the urge to run his hands through Billy’s hair had been, but it had seemed too intimate an action, so he’d resisted, as hard as it had been. He’d wanted to reciprocate, but Billy had fled the scene before Steve could even catch his breath, not to be seen again for three years, until Neil and Susan Hargrove had died. He picks the letter back up, curious to see how it will end, and what will be in the next one.

“You’re going to blame yourself for a lot of what comes after. You’re going to tell yourself that if you’d stayed, if you hadn’t hightailed it back to California while the ink on your diploma was still drying, if you’d stayed, even just for Max, and nothing else, or if you’d finally stood up to Neil for once, things would have turned out differently. Please try as hard as you can to be kind to yourself. I promise you didn’t cause this, that nothing you could have done would have stopped Neil from being an asshole.

Love,

Billy”

“Dear younger me,

You just found out that Dad and Susan died, and you’re going to have a lot of mixed emotions about that. Relief that Neil can’t hurt you, can’t hurt anyone anymore, grief, as you mourn the dad you never got to have, regret, that you weren’t there to take the keys out of Neil’s hands that night when he drank too much and decided that Susan was cheating on him instead of going out to a girl’s night at the bar, sadness, for Max, who, at only seventeen, has no parents left, only has you to take care of her, when you can barely take care of yourself on the best of days.

It's going to be tough, I’m not going to lie. You and Max are going to fight about anything and everything. She’s going to blame you for this, and it’s going to take a long time for her to apologize, and it’s going to hurt, even though you blame yourself too.

You have to stay strong, though. Strong for yourself, and for Max. You need to put down the bottle and find a good job so you can take care of Max and yourself. It’ll be hard to even make yourself get out of bed most days, but you have to grin and bear it. I promise it’ll eventually get easier, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now. It’ll all be worth it when you see her walk across the stage with her diploma.

Love,

Billy”

As soon as he’s one reading the second letter, Steve folds it up and slips it back into its envelope and takes out the third letter, eager to see where this is going, to find out why he’s being asked to read them. He takes a sip of his beer and settles in for the long haul.

“When Max is twenty one, she’s going to call you and tell you that she’s dropping out of college to work at the garage with you and help you work towards your goal of buying it from Mr. Dennis when he retires, and you’re going to feel like a failure, like all your hard work, all the hours you put in at the shop to help pay for her education are going to waste. You’re going to fight long and hard about whether she’s fucking up her life, and you’re going to say a lot of things that you regret, but you need to remember that she’s an adult now, and she’s smart, and she knows what’s right for herself.

You won’t want to admit it, even to yourself, but you know you’re going to be happy to have her back where you can keep an eye on her, instead of way out in Boston. There’ll be growing pains at first, as you both get used to living together again, but it’ll be nice to have someone else around the house again.

And be nice to Lucas when Max has him over. He’s a good guy when he’s not being a smartass, and trust me, you’re going to need him later. Show him a little respect, and you’ll save yourself a lot of embarrassment later.

Love,

Billy”

“Dear younger me,

Two years after you finally take over ownership of the shop, just as you’re really starting to feel like the place is yours, Max is going to beg you to let her renovate the attached luncheonette and run a small diner and bakeshop out of it.

You’re going to resist for so long, finding a million reasons why she shouldn’t do it. The kitchen requires too much work, there won’t be enough customers for it to be profitable, she should be doing something better with her life than planting her roots so firmly in Hawkins. You worked hard so she can get out, and you don’t want to enable her sticking around.

Trust me, it’s going to be easier if you just give in. She may be stubborn, but she’s right, the place is going to be a huge success, and you’re going to wonder why you didn’t let her have at it sooner. That is, until two weeks after the diner opens, on the night of the launch party, Max is going to get drunk and take your motorcycle out and crash it.

She’s going to survive, but just barely. It’s going to be a very long road to recovery, and that’s where the thing I mentioned earlier about being nice to Lucas will come in. He’s the only one that’s going to be there for you in the early days, when you’re trying to keep two business afloat and be at the hospital with Max. He’s going to take a year off from school to work in the diner and the garage when you need to be with Max and be with Max when you need to be at the diner and garage. You’re going to be each other’s rocks when it gets to be too much, and you’re going to be embarrassed about how you treated him before if you don’t stop treating him like shit right now. I know I’ve already said this a lot, but trust me.

Love,

Billy”

“Dear younger me,

I know that more than anything, you’ll want to make sure that Max’s diner stays open, that it’s there for her when she gets better, but you’re too stubborn to ask for help, and too busy to have it open enough hours in a day to turn a profit, so you’ll think about throwing in the towel and just focusing on the garage.

Tired and frustrated, you’ll head to Chicago one evening to blow off some steam at a bar. You’ll think to yourself that you’ll just go for a few drinks, and maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll find someone to take to whatever shitty hotel you can find a room in for the night, but instead, what you find in there, or rather who you find in there, is going to change everything for you.

Standing near the bar nursing a bottle of beer is Steve Harrington, looking every bit as pretty as he did back in high school. You’re going to try to turn around and run like the coward that you are, but Steve’s going to spot you before you can head out. Caught, you’re going to let him buy you a beer and sit and catch up.

He’s going to tell you how he feels lost after dropping out of law school, a failure in his father’s eyes, how scary it is to not feel that much more mature at twenty five than he did at eighteen. You’re going to tell him about your dad and Susan, and Max’s accident, how it feels like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, with no one there except Lucas to occasionally lighten the load.

He tells you that drinks are on him for the night, and he orders another round, and another and another, until you’re both shitfaced and stumbling towards his nearby apartment. On the way, you tell him that unless you get some money fast, you’re going to have to sell the diner, and then you forget you said anything as he asks if he can kiss you in the elevator.

You’re going to have a moment of panic, as Steve presses you up against the door of his apartment and runs his lips all over your throat, about whether this is the right thing to do or not. You think that it might be best to turn around and forget this ever happened.

Don’t. Stay, have fun with the hottest guy you could ever hope to be with, and create enough jerk off material to last you the rest of your life. Ever the gentleman, he’ll ask if he can take you to bed. You’ll both lose your breath laughing as he tries to carry you there and fails miserably, and you’ll smile to yourself every time you think about that moment.

Once you get to his room, you’re going to have to fight the urge to do all the work. You keep telling yourself that Steve deserves to be worshiped, but he’s going to insist that you sit back and enjoy it, and you should listen to someone else for once.

He’s going to do things you didn’t even know someone could do with their mouth, leaving your moaning, hands twisting in the bedsheets, and your eyes will roll back in your head as he fucks you six ways to Sunday. Afterwards, he’ll clean you both up and hold you in his arms while he snores softly in your ear, and you’ll think about how nice it is to be taken care of, that you could get used to it.

By morning, you’ll have talked yourself out of it. You don’t deserve this, you don’t have time for this, it’s too much, you’re not enough, and you’ll sneak out before Steve wakes, feeling like an idiot as you walk back to your car with your hair all stuck up in the back, knowing that everyone giving you side eye as they walk down the sidewalk with a coffee and a briefcase knows what you were up to last night.

You’ll be embarrassed, but relieved that you got out of Steve’s place without having to have an awkward morning after conversation. You’ll open up the shop for the day and put all your energy into working on the cars and running into the diner to check on Lucas and the lone waitress in between appointments, but no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be able to take your mind off Steve, how he looked the night before, looking down at you with his big brown doe eyes as he asked you if it felt good. Part of you is going to wish you hadn’t left his place, but you know it’s for the best.

The days will keep marching on, until a couple weeks after you have your run-in with Steve, when you’ll get a call from the bank. You prepare yourself for the worst, sure that they’re calling you to tell you that it’s time to give up the diner, but no, they have a potential investor, and they want to meet with the two of you.

You show up at the bank feeling ridiculous in your one pair of khakis and your best button up, and of course, the first person you see when you enter the bank is Steve Fucking Harrington, grinning wide at you as he chats up a teller. You want to turn around, but you can’t, because this idiot is your only way to keep the diner alive.

When you ask him why, why he would do this for you, when you’ve just been an asshole to him. He says it’s not for you, it’s for Max, and for Steve himself, because his dad apparently has no problem writing a huge cheque to invest in the diner if it means that Steve won’t be sitting idle any longer.

You’re not going to be sure how involved Steve plans on actually being involved in the day to day running of the diner, but you definitely don’t expect him to show up two days later, apron and baseball cap on, ready to work his first shift. He’s going to suck, dropping plates, burning food, forgetting to dress burgers before they go out to hungry customers.”

Steve has to laugh at how right Billy is. He was just about the worst waiter and cook to have ever worked in a restaurant. He had no clue what he was doing, and there were many days where he was surprised that Billy didn’t kick him out, no matter how badly he needed the help, and there were a lot of other days where Steve was ready to throw in the towel, but he’d kept with it, determined not to give up on this like he had on law school, and he liked knowing he was lightening Billy’s load, even if it only got him groans of frustration and sighs of despair in return. Over time, he thankfully got better at both tasks, finding that he was actually a pretty good cook. He picks the letter back up, eager to get through the rest of the shortening stack.

“I promise the shitty times will end though. Soon, you won’t be able to imagine the place without Harrington there, telling bad jokes and bringing you coffee when your eyes start to droop in the evening, after you’ve had a long day at the shop and the diner, and then still need to go check in on Max.

Eventually, Max will be released from the hospital, and you’ll be happier than ever to have Steve around, to help Lucas moderate arguments between you and Max, while you get comfortable giving Max small freedoms, and she comes to understand why you’re so scared to let her out of your sight.

When Lucas finally has to go back to school, Mrs. Sinclair will try to step in and pick up shifts at the diner, and at first, you’re going to push back. You don’t want to take any more time and energy from that poor family, and you’re sure she has better things to do than do Max’s bidding as Max sits on a chair behind the counter telling her what to do.

Steve talks you into letting her stay, though. You need the help, and she’s willing to give it, and it’s another lesson in accepting that people care about you and Max and letting them help you. Between Mrs. Sinclair, Steve, you, and Max, as she starts to get stronger, along with Erica Sinclair waiting tables after school and on weekends, replacing your waitress who decided to go back to school, the diner actually starts to turn a profit, based on great food and fast, friendly service. When Lucas comes home for Christmas, he jokes that he can’t recognize the diner with more than a couple customers in it. For the first time, you’re going to feel like everything will be ok.

I promise you, things only keep getting better from here.

Love,

Billy”

“Dear younger me,

Now that you have your professional life somewhat under control, of course, you’re going to turn your attention to your personal life for the first time in a long time. I can tell you it won’t be easy to take that first step and finally accept that you need therapy. Nobody wants to admit that they need help, so it’s going to be a long battle of talking yourself in and out of it, but I can also tell you that once you commit to going regularly, and putting in the work to help yourself, things are going to be so much better.

You’re going to rush into things with Steve, but it’s important that you take time for yourself, to figure your shit out first. If Steve want this as bad as he’s been saying he does, then he’ll respect that you’re not ready yet, and wait until you are.”

Steve takes another sip of his drink, shaking his head at his own behaviour. To say he badly wants a relationship with Billy is the understatement of the century, and he’s far from quiet about it, confessing almost daily to Billy that he’s crazy about him, wants to date the heck out of him, hold his hand when they watch movies, make him dinner, tell anyone that’ll listen that Billy is his.

But for all of his enthusiastic rambling, he’s more than willing to wait until Billy’s ready. He doesn’t want to rush things, because he wants Billy to want it as much as he does, wants his heart to truly be in it. He doesn’t want Billy to date him just because it’s what Steve wants.

Over the past year, Steve’s come to learn that Billy’s not only literally the hottest guy Steve’s ever seen, he’s also selfless, caring, hilarious, hardworking, and secretly sweet, and Steve needs him like he needs air, so yeah, he’ll wait. He continues to read.

“My best advice for when thinking about Steve gets to be too much. Take a deep calming breath, a cold shower, or if that doesn’t work, think about seeing the ancient librarian at the public library naked. That should be more than enough to cool you down.

Love,

Billy”

Steve picks up the last letter, and slipping it out of its envelope, he unfolds it, noticing that it’s a lot shorter than the rest.

“Dear future me,

I know you’re panicking right now, sitting on your couch, biting your nails and nursing a beer, while you wait for Steve to read through the letters that you handed him tonight. You want him to know that you’re ready now, as ready as you’ll ever be to let him in, let yourself be loved and love him in return, and you can only hope that he feels the same way as he did this afternoon when he told you that he can’t wait to wife you up, whatever that means. Try to calm down. It’ll be ok.

So, hey Steve, if you’ve gotten this far, I’m ready. Bring your jammies, and we can have a sleepover. I promise not to run in the morning, and if you wake up early enough to make me cum a second time before breakfast, I’ll make you pancakes before we head into work.

Love,

Billy”

Steve slips on a pair of sandals and grabs his keys, running so fast for his car that he doesn’t realize until he’s halfway down the driveway that he’s not wearing a shirt. It doesn’t matter though. He’s gotta see about a boy.

#harringrove #harringrove fic

[samanthahufflepuff]

*mutual pining angst*

+ bonus

#harringrove #harringrove gif

[samanthahufflepuff]

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race!! It's been so much fun so far, and I'm so excited to share my piece!

Thank you so much to @kuroubojin for passing the baton to me 💕

--

Billy thought that finally getting King Steve into bed would be different. 

Well, he didn’t think he’d actually get King Steve into bed, in the first place. But as much as Billy hates to admit it, now that he has, he’s feeling a little out of his depth.

In the many, many times he thought about what sex with Harrington would be like, he’d pictured something a little more… Wild. He thought fucking Harrington would be like a fight, biting and clawing and pushing to see who’s gonna come out on top. He thought he’d have to wrestle King Steve down and show him who the real king was, and it would be rough and hot and loud. Impersonal, though. Billy likes to get off fast and easy, after all. There’s no reason to draw it out or to linger after. 

But. But. 

Harrington caught him off guard. Billy never expected the teasing and the pigtail-pulling to pay off in the first place. He didn’t think he’d actually see Harrington’s fire turned on him, giving as good as he got, every barb out of Billy’s mouth being met with burning words and an upturned nose. It only egged Billy on more. 

It came to a point where Billy couldn’t put his eyes on Harrington without his whole body responding, heart thrumming and veins singing with adrenaline, palms sweaty at the sight of an answering smirk. 

And now, well. 

Running into each other at the quarry turned into a shared case of beer and a cigarette, turned into this. 

Billy pinned down on the backseat of Harrington’s damn BMW, leather seats sticking to his sweaty back. Billy doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing; all he knows is that he lost his shirt somewhere in the middle, and his jeans are open and rucked down to his hips. Harrington’s skin is hot, feverish under Billy’s fingertips, soft skin covering firm, defined muscles that roll with every movement of Harrington’s hips. 

Billy’s never cared much about kissing, but he can’t get enough of Harrington’s mouth. It’s obvious that he likes it, having latched onto Billy’s lips however long ago and not relented since. Billy’s not complaining. Harrington finds places in Billy’s mouth that he never thought could feel this good, takes over every one of his senses easy as breathing. He’s a tall wave bowling Billy over, taking up all the space in his head and chest and lungs, and it’s all he can do to hold on. 

There’s no fighting while they fuck, no raucous and derisive laughter, taking potshots at each other like they have something to lose. 

It’s good. 

Billy was sure it would be, but… It’s like nothing he’s felt before. Harrington is everywhere; the scent of his hair products in Billy’s lungs, the taste of his sweat on Billy’s tongue, his body a heavy weight on top of Billy’s. His name on Billy’s lips, a litany of Steve, Steve, Steve that Billy barely registers is coming from him. 

Harrington’s mouth never leaves his skin, not for a second, the maddening slide of his tongue leaving a line of fire wherever it goes. Harrington’s breath is hot on his neck. 

Billy can’t figure out why it feels so overwhelming, why this feels so different from anyone else he’s fucked before. After a while, he stops trying to. 

By the end, Billy doesn’t know which way is up, if it’s been minutes or hours. He can barely hear himself breathe over the thundering of his pulse in his ears. He forgets that he’s not supposed to drag this out, that he’s not supposed to linger, too busy riding the aftershocks of the pleasure Harrington brought out on his body. 

He’s struck dumb. Or fucked stupid, more like. 

This is nothing like he thought it was going to go. It was supposed to be about getting off, but Harrington turned it around on him. 

The backseat is cramped, and Billy’s skin is uncomfortably sticky against the warm leather, but his body sings when Harrington rearranges them so Billy’s lying on top, on his stomach, and with his nose tucked into Harrington’s neck. 

“C’mere,” is all Harrington says. Then he drapes his dumb members only jacket over Billy’s back. “I know how cold you get.”

Billy thinks he might be able to fall asleep like this. He’s not even itching for a cigarette. 

“You good?” Harrington says, and Billy grins against his chest. Harrington’s chest hair tickles his lips. 

“You gotta ask?” Billy laughs, a soft, light thing. He didn’t know he was capable of making a sound like that. 

Billy still can’t feel his toes, but he’s not gonna tell him that. 

“Dunno,” Harrington mumbles. There’s a note of uncertainty to his voice now, a dip in his confidence that Billy wasn’t expecting, not now.

Billy lifts his head to rest his chin on Harrington’s chest. He’s staring at the darkened car ceiling, but his hand is tight on Billy’s hip. 

“Could be better,” Billy says, and Harrington’s eyes jump to him, a touch too wide. Billy’s smirk grows. “The beer’s outside.”

Harrington bursts out laughing, pale throat stretched and gleaming in what little light spills into the car.

“If I go out and get it you’re gonna freeze to death,” he says, one hand coming up to Billy’s face. The tips of his fingers stroke lightly over his forehead, almost imperceptible, and push a stray curl away from Billy’s eyes. 

It hits him then, why everything feels so different from his other fucks. He barely has two brain cells left to rub together, caught in Harrington’s warm gaze, and it’s been niggling at him this whole time. How is it that Harrington can make Billy’s brain just shut off. 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Billy mumbles distractedly.

“No.” Harrington’s smile goes soft around the edges, and his fingers stroke Billy’s cheek. “I wouldn’t.”

Harrington’s looking at him like he’s precious. Like something he wants to keep. 

Billy’s retort gets lost on the way to his mouth.

“I’m good,” is what he ends up saying. Harrington smiles. 

He is good, Billy thinks. Right here, under Harrington’s jacket, legs tangled together, the chill of the night shut away for now. 

He’s better than he’s been in a while. 

--

Thank you for reading my piece!

Please look forward to the next one, done by the the lovely @billysblueeyes!!!! Go go go!!

#harringrove #harringrove fic

[samanthahufflepuff]

The Straightest Guy In Hawkins

(Internalized) homophobia tw

"I'm gonna fuck so many bitches this summer." Billy bragged, as he lied on Steve's bed, tossing his baseball into the air.

"Uh huh..." Steve passively responded, continuing to work on their project.

"So many hot babes with big tits and—"

"Couldja shut up and help me with this project? God, You've been pissing me off lately."

"What'd you say? I'm pissing you off?!" Billy sprang up.

"Yeah. Ever since we went to your house to work on this stupid project and I saw that magazine, you've been going overboard to try and prove to me that you're super straight, the straightest guy in Hawkins." Steve rolled his eyes. "Y'know what? I don't care if you're straight, not straight, doesn't matter."

"Well I am straight." Billy pointlessly insisted.

"Good for you! I'm not, and I don't give a shit."

"You're...not?" Billy questioned in disbelief.

"No."

Billy chuckled in response. "Does daddy Harrington know you're a fa—"

"No!" Steve exclaimed. "He doesn't. And if I told him, I don't think he'd care. I don't think my parents even see me half the time, alright? So-so just drop it. Like I said, I don't give a shit if you like guys or girls or both or neither. I just wanna get this project done. We have 3 more days and a lot to do."

Silence filled the room. An uncomfortable, lonely silence. Billy froze. He wanted to speak up, be honest with Steve, but he knew being honest with Steve would lead to his haunting crush on him surfacing again.

"I'm...not." He blurted out. "I'm gay, actually."

Steve set down his pencil and turned his attention to Billy. "Does your dad know you're a—"

"No." He fearfully shook his head. "He'd kill me. Like...actually murder me. He already thinks I'm a failure. If he found out I was a gay failure, he'd probably beat me until I stopped moving."

"So...am I the only person who knows?"

Billy shrugged. "Aside from the 2 guys I've hooked up with."

"In Hawkins?"

"Nah, you're the only other queer I've met around here."

"There're others, trust me. You have options."

The silence returned again. Steve could sense that something was still troubling Billy.

"What is it? You worried I'll tell?"

"Not really...forget it. Let's finish the project."

"C'mon. Talk to me. You've already told me your deepest darkest secret, what could be worse than that?"

"The fact that there's...someone I like. But I can't see them because it runs the risk of my dad finding out."

"Who is it? I'll tell you if he's queer or not."

Billy gently shook his head.

"Is it Eddie? He's definitely queer, I know for a fact—"

"What?! No! ...Wait, you hooked up with Munson?" Billy wondered, shielding his jealousy.

"I—no, we...we kissed once at a party, during a drinking game, but there was tongue, and he was totally into it, so I'm pretty sure—"

"It's..." Billy sighed. "It's not him."

"Is it Jason?" Steve chuckled. "God, I hope not. That guy's probably straighter than you could ever pretend to be—"

"Not him either." Billy snapped. "Let's just finish the project, okay? I'm sorry for...pissing you off, or whatever."

Billy joined Steve at the table where they focused on nothing but the project.

"So I think...we just need to put a little more information in this paragraph so it's longer, and then we'll be done. Then we can type it up."

"Lemme see."

When Billy absentmindedly reached for the paper, his hand accidentally touched Steve's and he sharply pulled away.

"Sorry." He apologized.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "That's the second time you apologized to me."

"And?"

"And. You never apologize. What's up?"

Billy shook his head. "I'dunno what you're talkin' about."

"Billy—"

"Can it, Harrington. I'm trying to read this."

"You're not even looking at it!"

Billy slammed the paper down and stood suddenly, knocking the chair to the floor. "I'm going home."

"What?! You can't just leave, we didn't—"

"I'm tired of you questioning me. Now you're pissing me off."

Steve picked up the chair, watching disappointedly as Billy grabbed his jacket.

"I didn't mean to piss you off. I shouldn't have been pushing you so much about a touchy subject in the first place. It's my fault."

"It isn't."

"Huh?"

"I said it isn't!" Billy snapped. "See you tomorrow."

Steve slumped in his seat when he heard Billy's camaro skirt out of the driveway. Even though he apologized, he still wished he could do more for Billy.

The following day, Billy didn't even show up for school. Steve worried Billy was avoiding him completely, and began to worry about their incomplete project.

When he arrived home, Billy was already there, smoking a cigarette on his porch.

"Hope you're not ashing in my mom's rose bush." He said with a smile.

"Wouldn't dream of tainting Mrs. Harrington's precious roses." Billy sneered.

"Missed you at school today—well, I didn't mean like, I missed you, but—you were...you were missing."

"Had some shit on my mind, so I ditched today."

Steve opened his mouth to ask, but he knew that wouldn't be a smart idea. He'd probably just chase Billy off again.

"Ready to finish this project, then?"

Billy tossed his cigarette into the street. "Yeah, let's get it over with."

They finished the project in 40 minutes and Steve offered Billy a beer to celebrate.

"Think we're gonna get an A?"

"Pretty sure. We followed all the instructions to a T."

"Yeah. Yeah we did." Steve agreed.

"About yesterday, I'm—"

"No. Don't even bother trying to apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"Oh yeah? For what?"

"I kept prodding into your business. I pushed you. I didn't mean to."

Billy shrugged. "'Kay, whatever."

"So, you accept my apology?"

"Will you cry if I don't?"

"Maybe." Steve answered with a pout.

Billy smiled. Not cynically, not mischievously, just...a smile. A pretty one, at that.

"Hey, listen. You wanna, like...hang out? Grab dinner, go to the movies, whatever?"

"You buying?"

"If I buy, it's a date."

"Then no." Billy declined. "Not interested."

"Not interested in a date?" Steve paused. "Or not interested in me?"

Billy leaned in, the once cute smile turning mischievous. "What makes you think you could pull a guy like me?"

Steve leaned in, but far closer. He licked his lips and smirked. "Wishful thinking, I guess." He half shrugged. "Hoping the guy you like could be me."

Billy bit his lip, his smile widening. He pulled Steve in by his collar and kissed him.

It was chaste and no words followed, but it spoke loudly enough to answer Steve's question.

"Pick me up tomorrow at 8. And don't let on that we're like...y'know. I don't need my dad to suspect anything."

"Don't worry. It'll be our little secret."

Steve stole another chaste kiss before Billy pulled away, leaving him hoping for more.

#harringrove #harringrove fic

[samanthahufflepuff]

7 most unhinged canon drarry moments

Harry calling Draco his arch nemesis just a few months after Lord Voldemort tried to murder him for the second time but also immediately thinking that he kinda misses him

Harry getting hit in the head by a piece of luggage because he got so distracted by the sight of Draco changing that he didn’t notice someone swinging a large object at his face

Harry lying to the Order and Magical Law Enforcement to obfuscate Draco’s crimes at the end of sixth year

Voldemort immediately assuming Draco has gone looking for Harry when he goes missing during the Battle of Hogwarts…and being right

Narcissa assuming Harry will know where Draco is and if he’s still alive…and being right

Lucius getting mad at Draco in book 2 because he has spent the entire summer talking nonstop about Harry Potter

Harry forgetting about the time Voldemort possessed and nearly murdered Ginny but remembering every item he saw Draco look at in Borgin and Burkes 4 years previously

#drarry

[samanthahufflepuff]

HoHoHoe Week Day One: Childhood Bedroom

Pairing: Harringrove (Steve x Billy) CW: Domestic bickering, oral sex, biting. WC: 1.4K AO3: Link "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" 

Steve groaned miserably, dropping his head into his palms for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. 

Billy let out an absolute cackle of delight, looking around at Steve's childhood bedroom. Steve immediately regretted agreeing when his mother told him to bring Billy home for Christmas. 

The blond was still in awe, muttering something about the wallpaper with a smirk twitching up the corner of his mouth.

"Come on, we only have an hour until they get home…" Steve tried to distract him, dropping their bags on the floor next to the desk and then pushing the door closed. "Gotta make use of the time before we're stuck down the hall from my parents for five days, and we have to behave."

Billy hummed noncommittally from the middle of the room, "I think the wallpaper permanently killed my dick, actually. Rest in peace, big guy." 

Steve absolutely rolled his eyes at that, hard enough he could almost hear his grandmother lecture him about his face getting stuck.

At some point, he'd made his way behind Billy, who made a rumbling noise low in his throat and tilted his head to grant access as Steve's lips trailed over where his pulse beat steady and strong in his throat. "Bet I can revive it." He teased, huffing out a laugh. 

"Might need a blindfold," Billy still managed to bite back even as his breath came out a little shakier, Steve pushing him towards the bed. The brunette grinned, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin in reply. 

"I don't think I will." 

Billy grunted as he was unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, curls flying around his head as the springs squeaked loudly in protest. Before he could bitch about being manhandled, Steve blanketed his body with his own and pressed their lips together. 

Still, his boyfriend nipped his lip sharply in rebuke, getting his little payback in any way he could. Steve mumbled the word 'asshole' against his lips in return, his muffled tone still drowning with affection. 

Despite his earlier protests about the continued liveliness of his dick, it took Billy little time to wiggle out of his jeans and kick them to the floor as Steve lavished him with slow, lazy kisses and fleeting touches. The blond man was never exceptionally patient, which didn't change in bed. It made teasing him infinitely more fun, though. 

"I'm going to keep picking apart your room until you give me something else to think about." Billy threatened, a little too worked up to really sound remotely intimidating. Steve didn't hurry his pace too much, bunching the red cotton shirt the man wore up around his ribs as he started to trail his mouth a little lower. 

But Billy wasn't one to make empty threats. 

"So… how many of Hawkins' future simpering housewives lost their virginity in this plaid hellscape? What a memory that must b- ouch!" 

Steve, having had enough of his commentary, had sunk his teeth into the skin covering the younger man's hip bone and was almost positive he heard Billy sulkily call him a bastard through a sharp intake of breath in response, but hey- it had the desired effect. A distinct lack of taunting filled the room now. 

He didn't give him too long to pout, though, thumbs hooking in the waistband of his underwear and tugging them down. Billy's neck was cast into sharp relief as he leaned his head back, throat bobbing once as Steve leaned down to brush a kiss over the spot he'd previously bitten. 

Almost an apology, even if he didn't feel so bad. 

Thick fingers slid into his hair, pushing him down further towards where Billy pressed hot, heavy and flushed against his navel in a way that made Steve nearly bite through the tip of his tongue, snickering. "God, you'd think you didn't initiate this for how long you've taken without actually doing anything." Billy snipped, a hint of a whine at the end of his sentence. Steve smiled again.

God, he loved this man, impatience and all. 

Finally, having finished drawing it out, Steve gave his boyfriend a little warning before leaning in, flattening his tongue and dragging it up the underside of solid velvet skin until he reached the tip and parted his lips in one smooth movement.

When he'd first gotten together with Billy, Steve had struggled to take even half of him. Billy was the first and only man he'd ever been with- and if he had his way, it'd stay that way. He'd been a mess every time back then, jaw aching from the foreign stretch, eyes watering, and drool coating his chin. 

It was only with a little hint of smugness that he now took him nearly in full in one go, breathing out through his nose and pushing past the spasm of his throat until he felt his shoulders relax. 

"Fuck-" Billy's voice cracked on the exclamation, fingers tightening in his hair almost painfully. Little shocks danced across Steve's scalp, dragging a muffled moan out of him as his hips rutted down against the mattress for friction. Billy made a pleased sound. 

They knew each other's weak spots well, but the familiarity never got boring like he'd always heard other guys complain about. Steve certainly didn't miss the days of his love life being one date, sex, rinse and repeat. 

Steve had once read about treating your lover's body like a well-practiced instrument. At the time, he remembered rolling his eyes as he read it to Robin off the glossy magazine page, only for her to admit she thought that sounded romantic. 

He'd cracked some joke about band kids that had caught him a freckled knee to the ribs at the time, but reflecting back on it years later, he understood the romance in it that he'd missed then. 

Billy's taste, his musky natural scent and a hint of cologne, the little rolls of his hips that he tried so hard to control but never could. Steve could pick up the difference in every sigh, every flex of his muscles, every twitch of his mouth. 

Hazel eyes turned upwards as he hollowed his cheeks, desperate to watch Billy slowly crumble apart at the seams. It was his favourite sight, watching the man who'd perfected wall building before he was in middle school let go, allowing Steve to pull him apart. 

Please make no mistake; he did allow it. Steve had tried to break through that wall on days when Billy couldn't bring himself to let it fall even though he wanted to, and that had been an impossible task. 

Not today, though. Billy's hair-dusted thighs were pliant on either side of his head, core relaxed and moans unrestrained. It was beautiful. 

He was beautiful. 

Steve could feel a heady heat crawling through his veins, skin sparking and abdomen tightening in a way that told him there would be no need for reciprocation after he finished the blond. He'd always loved giving more than receiving, no matter how good both felt. 

Snaking his hand between his body and the bed, he let the other slide down to possessively grip Billy's leg as he really started to put his all into getting them both off. As much as he liked working him up, they were on a bit of a time limit, and he knew better than to think Billy could be quiet if they pushed this too long. 

As highlighted by the sharp groan of his name that followed as Steve pulled off with a filthy sound, tongue licking up the trail of saliva and precome as he made his way a little lower. 

"Please-" Billy slurred, about to protest the loss of wet warmth when Steve curled his tongue around the other man's balls, rolling them lazily and drawing them into his mouth. Billy's back arched, thighs tensing and abdomen quivering. "Shit!" 

There it was. 

Steve would've grinned if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, humming as he let go of Billy's leg to start stroking him, quick and messy, perfectly timed with the pace he was working himself to the edge. 

It didn't take long. 

Barely thirty more seconds passed before Billy's pleading and praises reached a crescendo, voice cracking through every syllable. Steve let Billy's balls fall from his mouth and moved fast, continuing the slick movements of his hand as he opened his mouth and looked up at Billy through his lashes. 

Billy came with a mangled sound, ocean blue eyes locked on Steve's flushed face as he was turned into a portrait of debauchery. Billy gasped, muttering a curse under his breath at the sight he made. As he reached down to swipe a little of his mess off of Steve's upper lip, he felt his tired dick throb painfully as Steve pulled the digit into his mouth and sucked it clean. 

Before the blond could even form a single sentence after having his brain scrambled, Steve's blissed-out expression shifted into a smug grin. 

"That's why those girls didn't give a shit about the room." He purred. But he must've looked too victorious for Billy's sake because then-

"Oh, you suck on their balls too?" This was going to be an incredibly long week.

#harringrove fic #harringrove