hi tags! i'm sam, 23, she/her, and am currently looking for more roleplay partners eighteen-plus ♡ i play males and females and ask that you do too. i'm versatile, preferring to play switches in everything. m/m is my preference but i can also do m/f or f/f.
at the moment i'm super super craving all things dark, sm*tty, and t*boo! i have a few plots in mind for this. but i'm also down for fluffy and sweeter things. i'd love for my partner and i to connect and maybe even become friends as well ♡ come at me with your own plots and ideas and let's create together!
i'm also ALWAYS down for harringrove with me playing billy.
you can like this post and i'll come to you OR you can add me on discord at: sunshine.#1978
Harringrove song of the day.
Steve: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives
Billy: I wake up at 6:30 am to work out
Steve: i want to sleep with you every day for the rest of our lives
Steve: did Billy just tell me he loves me for the first time?
Steve: and did i do finger guns back?
Robin: yes. yes you did.
Robin: Do you notice something different about Billy?
Steve: Well, Billy's his own thing. We've had sex in like three different houses and I'm not totally sure any of them were his.
oh yeah billy, give steve your package 🥴
this tune is stuck in my head so… :)
strangers to friends
Billy’s chest was wet and sticky and cold, and his legs were still a little wobbly from being turned upside down, but Steve Harrington was…regal. Even with Tommy goin’ off about how Billy was something new and better. Harrington eyed them both as though they were still as unworthy as they would have been before. Disinterest besides the faintest hint of warmth that he offered Billy. Some disgust as he eyed his unclean skin and a sprinkle of intimate valor as his eyes traced Billy’s face.
The squat but spindly girl who walked in with him rolled her eyes and fled. She could have surpassed Harrington’s own riddance. And she did, as Harrington stayed put right outside of the doorway and swiftly shifted his sunglasses up to his high head of hair. Locks all detangled and conditioned for fingers to run through. A voice sharp and captivating like barbed wire as he sniped at Tommy’s last standing splints. Getting them alone even with the occasional eyes on them; waiting for a brawl.
Billy took just the tiniest step forward still, noted how Harrington’s eyes glowed with hints of maroon in the yellowish lighting. How there were moles peaking over his collar. And how his lips formed into a delicious smile that spoke in colors and ￼tremolos.
“Are you a swimmer, Hargrove?” As though he had no clue who Billy was. Like he hadn’t heard a single bit of gossip about the new kid. His eyes reflected amusement and Billy shun into it.
“The best pool used to be a ten minute drive away,” he answered. Leaned in and Steve easily followed, didn’t even move away when Billy snuck the glasses off of his head. Gentler than he might have otherwise. If Harrington hadn’t still watched him like he was the full moon on a cloudy night, and the clouds had just parted enough. He placed the Ray Bans on himself, his own crown mimicking Harrington’s shorn one. “Remind me to bring you some time.”
friends into lovers
Billy’s skin to Steve was what the sun would be if it cried. Old indents, sunshine, the growth of flowers, the waters that covered the Earth. Billy’s hair reminded Steve of sunflowers. Or maybe the Greek god Apollo. Billy illuminated. His eyes moved slow like gentle waves as they reconvened in his bedroom. The house empty once again and both excused from work and sniveling fathers.
Billy’s palms always warm while his feet were cold. Heat trailing Steve’s spine and down into his pants, pushing him down onto the messy covers. Cold wrapping around his calf and the other curling around his ankle. Dark sunflower petals sprawled around a symmetrical face and eyes darkened in the night so they look almost grey. Beautiful, and he says so, let’s Billy know just how precious he is. He never misses the pink mist that tints and stains Billy’s cheekbones. The earring dangling catches the half-moonlight. And he notices the flame on the tips of his ears too.
Billy bites Steve’s shoulder and flourishes his hips up, demanding more physical translation. He feels the moistness of Billy’s breath, the tingle his teeth leave behind. Steve reaches a hand up to feel the indents and then rotates it back out to passionately take the side of Billy’s jaw and draw him in closer. Bend him down as his hips rest at the bottom of Steve’s stomach. Kiss him slow and revel in the short stubble and the lips the constantly rise the hairs on his arms. Clench his fingers in the roots of the shower damp hair and shiver as the cold droplets from the broad shoulders drip down and hit Steve’s own skin.
They go back and forth, not trying too hard to go further. Caressing each other’s scars, avoiding the fresh ones, and letting their fingertips travel just to memorize each other again. Steve reminds himself of the few centimeters long slice in the top of Billy’s left ear where an earring was pulled out a long time ago. The knees that crack when Billy bends back far enough to rest after gliding up and down. His nose that twitched every time Steve rose his own hips in tandem and hit the perfect spot. And Billy would grow raspy and forget how to pronounce even simple words the longer they went on. Became soft and edgeless, had that glow about him and Steve’s favorite past time had begun to be observing the drool from Billy’s mouth travel all the way down.
Billy was someone Steve held onto, and didn’t let go until he was asked. The bed swayed like a goddamn ship, Billy yelled and it echoed through the house, and Steve barely managed to yank him down again for a final sear of a kiss.
and strangers again
Billy was never meant to live forever in Hawkins, and Steve mentioned he did. Billy wanted to travel and feel and expand again. Steve wanted to stay planted and protect his family that was left. Billy knew he was giving into selfish ideals, as he did so many a time.
Steve said he understood, but he only helped pack the Camaro, he didn’t put any of his own with it. Which is actually a lie, he gave Billy his yearbook. Something Billy hadn’t bothered to retrieve himself his senior year. He wrote a letter as generic but heartfelt as any other. Beginning with Billy and ending with Steve. No pillowy nicknames they’d call each other in private. No baby or honey or tiger. No stevie or darlin’ or sweetheart. Just Billy and Steve as the rest of world had seen it.
Billy considered that Steve was trying so hard to not crack under pressure, that that’s why he didn’t agree to the last and final kiss. And he wasn’t there when Billy glanced to review mirror to check.
After everything Steve couldn't sleep without listening to Billy's heartbeat. He put his head Billy's now scarred chest. Hug the sleeping boy tightly and listen every slow breath, every heartbeat of him.
Steve: sorry I called you an asshole, I assumed you already knew
“I didn’t… I-“ Billy stuttered, letting the blood covered knife in his left hand slowly slip and then fall all at once to the rocky pavement of his boyfriend’s front step.
Steve just stared in awe of the man in front of him, blood splattered up the side of his cheek, across his white tank top, and really just… everywhere. He also didn’t miss the mean shiner he was sporting, or the busted lip that had yet to heal.
Slowly he brought a shaking hand up to his mouth, taking a cautious step back, ”Billy…” he whispered between his fingers.
”I didn’t mean to Steve, I swear I didn’t!” Billy cried, face scrunching up in the way it did when he was truly upset, “You’ve gotta believe me!”
“Billy…” Steve repeated, trying to collect himself. Slowly, his arm fell back to his side palm lingering on his cheek but only for a moment, “Billy, baby… what did you do?”
The blonde boy just shook his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, “I just- he made me!” Billy took a step forward in protest, but Steve was quick to send him back with a sharp point of his fingers.
”What did you do, Bills?“ he tried again, trying not to let his fear show as much as he knew it was.
”He took it too far, too fucking far, Steve. Hurt me, threatened to hurt you! I had to… I had to!” Billy rambled on and on and on.
”What the hell did you do, Billy!“ Steve screamed at the top of his lungs, “Tell me what you did right fucking now or I swear to God I’ll call the cops.”
The response wasn’t immediate, there was a tense silence between them before Billy finally chimes in once more, “I killed him.”
Steve’s heart sunk into his stomach, “Killed who?”
The silence fell again, and then Billy was smiling, something devious and almost evil, it chilled the older boy to the bone, “My dad.” he huffed, “I killed my dad.” And at this point he was laughing, pretty white teeth pulled into a maniacal, heartless smile, one so foreign to the one Steve was used to.
”Holy shit,“ Steve breathed, “Oh my god.” suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his throat was closing up, like his lungs were shrinking.
”You’re not mad, are you Steve?” Billy asked, eyebrows furrowing, “Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I-” Steve choked, barely recognizing that his boyfriend was stepping closer to him until it was too late, until there was a blood covered hand cupping his cheek.
”This is good,” Billy hissed, “This is great for us!“ Steve couldn’t see straight, Billy’s laughter ringing in his ears, chest heaving as it tried to release some pressure built up around his heart.
“Oh, Stevie this is wonderful,” Billy tucked a strand of stray hair behind the taller boys ear, “At first I mean- I wasn’t sure… but now? Now we won’t have to hide, we can do whatever the fuck we want!”
And Steve couldn’t speak, but he thinks if he could he’d call Billy crazy. Call him a fucking phsyco, call the cops and have him sent away for the rest of his life. And yet it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him.
They meet at a renaissance faire, Steve is one of the characters, and it's Billy's first time there.
At first Bill thinks its gonna be lame, and he hates Max for dragging him there with all her little nerd friends.
Steve is dressed as a pirate fairy or some shit.
Billy sees him and Max can spot the heart eyes from the turkey leg booth.
Thinking about The Yellow Crayon.
Steve felt like it was all his fault. Everything--the bruises and the tremor in Billy's voice and the way the crayon was bending under the weight of his fingers. He didn't know what to say and maybe that made everything worse.
"He loves me a lot, he loves me more than Max, Steve. He told me so." Billy was shaking his head. "He's just tired because Max cries a lot. She's so loud, Stevie, she's. Loud and mean and she stinks and sometimes my daddy hits me but--"
The crayon snapped in two.
Billy stared at it for an endless moment, his eyes welling up with an ocean of tears, lower lip trembling. Steve had never seen him cry before.
He didn't know what to do.
Could mommies and daddies hit their kids? Steve had never heard of anything like that before but something in Billy's face, something in his eyes, made Steve believe him. Made him realize that the bruises had never been from running too fast in the field at recess.
He lifted a hand as it to touch, as if to comfort, and Billy was shocked into motion.
He immediately burst into tears. "Sorry, Stevie, I'm. I broke it. Fuck, I broke it, oh. Oh my--"
Steve pulled Billy to his chest.
Held on to him like the world was crashing and burning as the smaller boy sobbed against him. Steve rocked both their bodies with the weight of it. Billy was crying so hard that he couldn't really breathe anymore and Steve willed himself to stay calm.
He had to be there for his friend.
For his beautiful boy.
Steve rubbed his fingers through Billy's hair. Babbled about stupid stuff like flowers and stars and Big Bird to try and calm him down, because.
Steve didn't know what to do. He felt so grownup and so young all at once, all at the same time. Helpless and strong and weak and desperate and--
He hadn't known that mommies and daddies could hurt people.
Billy missed school for a couple of days after that and Steve was beside himself with worry.
Mrs. Prayer told him Billy had the flu. That he was sick and his mommy and daddy were taking care of him, making it all better, but.
Steve knew that was bullshit.
He sat by himself at lunch while Billy was gone. He didn't sing or catch butterflies in the field or draw without him. Didn't feel right since the sun had been snatched out of the sky and no one had told him that bad stuff could happen to kids. That bad stuff could happen to Billy.
When he finally showed up again Steve burst into tears. Hugged him in front of the entire class. Kissed his cheeks and yanked him toward their special corner of the room. Their desks, their fortress, where no one could ever hurt them again--Steve wouldn't let that happen. He would protect Billy, they could run away together and--
"You're pinching my hand."
Steve pulled his fingers away. Tried not to whimper at the sudden loss of warmth. He sniffled. "I missed you, I thought--"
"Jesus, why do you cry so much?" This wasn't his Billy. This was someone hard, someone different. He shook his head. "My dad says crying is for bitches in heat."
Steve felt himself bleeding somewhere on the inside. "I'm. I'm sorry, bumble bee. I'm."
"It's fine." Billy turned away from him. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
So, they didn't.
And they stopped playing, too.
And whispering to each other during quiet time because Billy had nothing else to say anymore. Mrs. Prayer told him to be patient; Billy was just going through changes, things would be back to normal once his family started therapy and Steve didn't know his daddy, had never seen the man or thought anything bad about him but--he hated Neil Hargrove for taking Billy's light and putting it in a box. For burying it in the ground.
Steve cried in the bathroom that day. Mourned his friend in peace, in quiet until the tears dried on their own. When he returned to his desk Billy was hard at work on a new drawing.
Steve sat and pulled out his math homework.
Billy poked him. "How come you don't wanna color?"
"I didn't think," He felt tears coming again. Steve bit his tongue until they went away. "I didn't think you wanted to be my friend anymore."
Billy rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid."
And Steve wasn't stupid.
Billy always said he was smart and pretty and perfect, so.
He opened his notebook and scribbled away for what felt like hours. They talked about Sesame Street and their plans for the weekend like nothing had happened, like everything was back to normal.
When Steve finally looked up from his drawing Billy handed him something small and delicate.
A yellow crayon taped back together in the middle.
"Would you just listen to me for one fucking minute?!"
With a sigh, Steve stops his hasty ascent of the stone steps that lead to the church, keeping his back to Billy even as he hears footsteps come up behind him. He either deals with this right now, or he risks Billy following him all the way to the church and he truly doesn't think he can keep his composure if he has to put up with the blonde while his little brother gets married.
Further ahead in the path, Dustin turns his head back to throw him an inquisitive glance, briefly ignoring the bustle of conversation the Party has kept up. He's looking sharp in his white suit and pressed blue shirt, his mess of curls tied up into a short ponytail at the base of his neck. So grown up, already twenty-two, and yet Steve cannot help but see the little fourteen-year-old who used to drag him to the beach so they could search for crabs and snails between the rocks.
Steve shakes his head briefly, motioning for him to go on. It wouldn't do for the groom to be late to his own wedding after all.
Once he's sure all the members of the Party - including Max and Jane - are far away enough that they couldn't hear him even if they tried, he turns to face Billy. He's exhausted, the past three days having taken a toll on him atop his stress over the financial situation of the Villa, and he's sure it must reflect on his face because hesitation makes itself known on Billy's features.
"What more can you say, Billy? Whatever we had, it died that summer of '85 when you didn't think it important to let me know you were engaged before I let you into my bed. Nothing will change what has already happened."
If he has to be honest about this, Steve didn't want to talk at all about the things they had gone through. Even now, eight years after the fact, the ache still felt raw in his chest exactly the same way it had that morning when he had found out. He doesn't think he ever truly got over it, not properly, at least. Ignoring the pain, putting other worries first and foremost, it had helped sure but never got rid of the root of that pain.
But all that was history now. All their cards had been played, no more tricks under their sleeves, no more words left to say. So, he didn't understand what more Billy thought he could say.
Still, he waited, arms wrapped around himself as he stared into Billy's ice blue eyes.
"I know all that, Steve. I'm not here to try and change your mind but trust me when I say that I've regretted it each day that I have been alive ever since I left Scopello that morning." There's nothing but honesty in his voice and Steve hates that despite the hurt he can't help but admit that age has treated Billy well. "But I came back. I called Neil, told him to forget the engagement, that I wasn't coming back, and I came back to Scopello three days later. Only to find that you had already left with another guy."
That gives Steve pause, his heart stuttering in his chest. "You came?"
"I did but I left that same day. It made me angry when the old lady at the bar told me. I felt like I had been stupid, that there was no way you meant what you had said to me if you could move on that quickly." Billy chuckles softly but the twist of his lips turns into a grimace not soon after. "It took me a while to realize that I had no right to be angry at you when I was the one who had fucked up in the first place. So, I went back home and married the girl that Neil had set up for me."
"Ah, so you did marry her." He could almost feel it when his heart fell to his feet, that small spark of hope he harbored fizzling out in a split second. It was only thanks to eight years of customer service experience that he managed to force his features into one of detached politeness. Billy didn't need to know how much he had hurt him. "Congratulations are in order then. I'm sure Mrs. Hargrove is lovely."
Do you kiss her the way you used to kiss me?
Do you make her feel safe in your arms the way you used to do with me?
Have you given yourself to her completely the way you gave yourself to me on that fateful summer night?
But there's no way Steve could ask any of that. No. He had to put the broken pieces of his heart back together, bury all that pain back where he didn't have to think about it, and smile. It was Dustin's day. He should focus on that instead.
"Fascinating conversation. Now if you're done, I have to leave. Dustin is probably losing his head over my whereabouts."
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Billy's face shift, his arm extending as if he was about to prevent Steve from getting away. And Steve can’t let him do that. Not right now. Because he knows that if he were to see any shred of pity in Billy’s eyes, he wouldn’t be able to take it. No, he couldn’t allow that.
So, he sidesteps the attempt and decidedly makes his way up the steps that lead to the church, quicker than he usually would. He was running away from Billy like a teenage girl with her heart broken and yet he refused to feel bad for doing it. Steve won’t break down crying over his ex on his little brother’s wedding day. That’s a level of tacky he refuses to lower himself to.
A commission for @ihni of a scene from the upcoming chapter of my fic Turbo Lover!
Some more What Ifs...