Incorrect Stranger Things Quotes - 9/? (insp)

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Incorrect Stranger Things Quotes - 9/? (insp)

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No, it's British! Practical! Good in the snow!
cw: blood
What's your favorite scary movie? đŞ
Joe Keery Flaunt
He watches as Billy cuts the engine, one hand draped over the wheel, the other brushing through his hair as he leans back in the seat. Heâs talking about nothingâ music, some fight he got into, the usualâ and Steveâs only half-hearing it, half-watching the way the light catches the curve of his jaw when he drags on the cigarette.
âYou good?â Billyâs voice snaps him out of it, heâs giving him this knowing look, smirk tugging.
Steve blinks eyelids suddenly feeling very heavy. His eyes flicking away to stare out the windshield, slouching down in the seat. âYeah,â Steve muttered. âJustâfried.â
âThatâs the whole point, Harrington.â
The car is warm and for a long moment itâs mostly quiet besides the low hum of the radio and the ticking of the engine cooling. Eventually he glances back over and Billyâs looking right himâsteady and unreadable.
For a second Steve thinks he might be about to say something that matters. Instead Steve looks away, breaks the silence between them.
âYou ever think we hang out too much?â
Billy raises his eyebrows, exhales through his nose, laughing softly. âWhy, you getting tired of me?â
âNo. Just thinking, I guess.â
Billy reaches over settling his hand on Steveâs knee, deliberately sliding higher, thumb pressing slow circles into the denim, dragging across the seam of his jeans in a slow absent line. âWell how âbout you stop thinking. Probably not one of your strong suits.â
Steve can hear the shift in Billyâs breathing, feels it echo in his own chest. Heâs closing the space between them and Steve knowsâ they werenât just here to smoke.
âYou gonna look at me or just keep pretending you donât want to?â Billy murmurs.
Suddenly Steve is definitely too high. Doesnât stop him from turning his head, and thatâs all it takes. Billyâs cigarette ends up in the ashtray, his hand moving to the back of neck. The air between them shiftingâwarm, close, humming with static. Just like the last time itâs already almost too much.
Billy doesnât waste much time before leaning in, so close he can feel every exhale. âStill good?â Steve nods his fingers catching on Billyâs jacket.
He can smell smoke, weed, and something clean under itâ maybe shampoo or detergentâSteve doesnât know but itâs messing with his head.
When Billy kisses him, itâs soft at firstâunhurried, almost thoughtful. But itâs not long before Steveâs on top of him, straddling his lap in the cramped space, his jeans bunched around one leg and Billyâs sweatpants halfway down his thighs. Billy murmuring in his ear, fingers digging into his hips, gently guiding his movements. And itâs goodâso fucking good that Steve doesnât know why he was ever pretending in the first place.

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When the Party is planning to take Billy down, Steve steps in and saves his bby
For @dragonflylady77 đš
Heated Rivalry: the last frame of the first season
đŹ 0  đ 6  â¤ď¸ 33 ¡ Something just doesnât feel right. When Billy said it the first time Steve blew him off telling him he was fine. Billy was
Hereâs my part two that no one asked for lmao, but youâre getting it anyways
Steveâs breath stutters. For a second there he figures he must be fucking dreamingâ because the kinda line that Billy just dropped is one that only shows up in his worst late night thoughts, the ones he shoves down before they get dangerous.
âDo something about it?â He repeats, stunned, like saying the words out loud will make this less real.
Billyâs smirk twitches back into place, thin and ugly, but it doesnât hide the tremor in his jaw. âWhat, scared now? King Steve canât handle a real mess?â He leans heâs halfway sat up now, propped up on his elbows, spread wide across Steveâs bed like a dare. âThought you liked being the guy that cleans up everyone elseâs messes.â
Steveâs chest flares hot with anger, but the heat sinks lower, twisting. His fists clench helplessly at his sides. âYouâre such a prick,â he mutters, it sounds to much like surrender.
Billy just watches him now, eyes burning, his pants halfway down, shirt rucked up towards his armpits, heâs sweating something serious, his chest still heaving. Billy was definitely right about one partâ he was a fucking mess.
The worst partâ Steveâs already moving, closing the small distance between them. His knees bumping the edge of the mattress before heâs fully processed the weight of his decision. Even worse, heâs half hard in his own pants.
How fucked up is fucked up? This is some fucked up shit right here.
âThis is insane,â Steve says, voice low, cracking. âThis isnâtââ He swallows hard look down at the trainwreck that is currently Billy. âThis isnât how itâs supposed to happen.â
The last part is mumbled, mostly for himself, trying to calm his own nerves. Not even realizing the implication of what he just said.
Billyâs smirk softens to a smile, only for second, sharp and broken all at once. âYeah,â he says, raspy. âTell me about it.â
Steve hates how shaky he feelsâ as if heâs the one burning up instead. Billyâs eyes track him, his hands still trembling where they grip the sheets.
âSay it.â Steveâs voice is tighter than he means, âSay this isnât just you being an asshole.â
Billyâs breath hitches and thereâs a mean little curl of his lip. âYou wish I wanted you that bad, Harrington.â Then his grin falters, and the words donât land the way they were meant to. Even Steve can tell thatâs bullshitâ especially when Billy actually whines, his jaw working desperate. âCâmon, donât overthink itâ whatâs a hand between friends, right?â He breaks off with a groan, arching up off the mattress. âReally, Iâm not just fucking with you.â
The words hang thick in the air.
Billy moves just enough so Steve can prop a knee up on the bed, moving to lean over him. Almost in his lap.
Every instinct in him is screaming for him to back off, but his hand betrays himâ reaching to grab Billyâs wrist. Billy freezes, staring up at him. His pulse kicks under Steveâs fingers, wild.
âJesus Christ,â He breathesâ how was this his life right now. Even surprising himself with how easy he gives in, it wouldâve made more sense to leave Billy to work through this on his own. He finds himself cautiously tugging Billyâs arm away so he can replace his hand with his own.
The reaction from Billy is instant, his hips jerk up and his head tips back swearing to himself. He starts making these small noises, like heâs in painâlike itâs all too much even though Steveâs barely touched him yet.
âFuckââ Billyâs voice cracks, raw, wrecked. âKnew youâd cave.â Itâs probably meant to sound smug, but it comes out like a prayer.
Steveâs teeth grind, face flushing. âShut up.â His thumb slides over the tip of his cock starting to actually move his hand, not trying to waste time.
Sure, heâs been naked in the locker room with the guy plenty of timesâyeah maybe heâs checked him out a little too long. But this was different, seeing him hard and actually touching him in this wayâwell, looking was one thing, this was something straight from Steveâs most repressed thoughts.
Billyâs answering sound is ragged, unguarded, it sends something hot spiraling down his spine.
Heâs leaking so much, it eases the way no problem. Steve tries not to think about how close they are, especially when Billy slides a hand up the back of his shirt, pulling him forward, the space between them disappearing just like that.
Heâs never handled a dick besides his own, but he canât be much different than jerking himself off. He doesnât let himself over think it, because like Billy had said beforeâitâs just a handjob, right?
There was no hiding the fact that Steve was hard too but thankfully Billy doesnât say anythingâmaybe finally realizing when to shut up.
Billyâs breath hits Steveâs cheek, hot and uneven.
For a second, they just stare at each otherâtwo stubborn idiots waiting for the other to blink first.
Then Billy leans in, barely a shift of weight, just enough that Steve forgets how to breathe.
Itâs not a kiss, not yet. But itâs close enough that every thought in Steveâs head drops out at once. âStill think itâs not your problem?â Billy says, quiet this time.
Steve doesnât answer. He canât. Every part of him feels strung tight, so out of his depthâknows exactly how this will end. He also knows thereâs no right answer anyways.
The Passenger + Memes

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The road is nothing but fog and yellow lines and the low growl of Billyâs engine. Steveâs slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed tight over his chest, staring out the window, jaw tight. The air between them hums with something heavy and electric.
Billy glances over once, eyes narrow. âYou gonna tell me what the hell that was tonight?â
Steve doesnât answer at first. Eventually he gives Billy a mean side eye, a lazy shrug, all like âWhat?â
âDonât play dumb. You think I donât hear thingsâ that I donât see what the fuck youâre doing? Youâve been differentâfucking drinking, picking fights. Itâs like youâre begging for someone to put you down.â
Billy can smell the booze on him, already sees the bruising blooming across his knuckles, under his eye. Heâs lucky he wasnât knocked the fuck out, lucky that Billy stepped in.
He already knows Steve doesnât agree, heâs too busy making a reckless ass of himself to care.
âSeriously,â Billy presses. âYou were out of your goddamn mind back there. You think squaring up with a guy twice your size is smart?â
âWho caresânot like youâve got any room to talk.â Steve mutters.
Billy laughs once, sharp. âRight. Because that totally looked like a fight you planned on winning.â His voice drips with sarcasm.
âDonât start,â Steve snaps.
âToo late,â Billy snarks back. âYou keep doing this shit and one day youâre not getting back up, you get that?â
Steveâs hands clench in his lap, looking like Billy had just kicked his puppy or something. âSince when do you care?â
Billy looks at him, incredulous. âSince Iâm the one driving your sorry ass home every time you decide to self destruct.â
The words sting more than they should. Steve turns to stare back out the windowâeyes stinging , chest tight. âYou donât have to, didnât fucking ask you to.â
âYeah,â Billy mutters, eyes back on the road, âkeep telling yourself that.â
Something in Steve breaks. âEvery time something goes wrong, you show up acting like I owe you answers.â He kicks at the dash, like heâs throwing a tantrum and turns to glare at Billy before spitting out, âYou think you get to control what I do? Youâre not my fucking keeper.â
Billy brakes hard. Tires shriek. The car jerks to a stop in the middle of the empty road.
Steveâs heart lurches, a little stunned as he jerks forward, hands landing on the dashboard to keep his face from slamming into it. âWhat the fuckââ
Billyâs out before Steve can blink, slamming the door hard enough to shake the car.
âYouâre such a dick.â Steve climbs out, voice rising. âYou think you can just tell me what to do? Like youâre my fuckingââ
Billy steps forward, jaw tight. âLike Iâm what?â He raises his eyebrows but continues on before Steve can answer. âThe only one who gives a damn?â
Steve whirls on him. âI donât need your pityâor whatever the fuck this is. You donât get to tell me what to do.
Billy pushes further into Steveâs space, eyes burning. âThen stop acting like a goddamn child and maybe I wouldnât have to.â
Thatâs it. The snap. The line Steve canât let go.
Billy steps forward hands throwing up in frustration, voice rising. âI mean look at youâsomeone obviously fucking has to.â
âYeah wellânot you.â The words are barely out of his mouth before heâs shoving Billy. Hard.
Billy stumbles back a step, half-laughing. Heâs shaking his head as if Steveâs just here wasting his time. âThere he is. The tough guy. You done?â
Billy shoves him back. Hard enough to make Steve stumble a little.
Then Steve moves
He catches Billy around his middleâimpulsive and messy, tackling him hard enough to send both of them sprawling into the gravel, The hit knocks the breath out of themâBillyâs elbow cracking against the road, Steveâs shoulder slamming into his ribs.
Billyâs back smacks against the gravel and mud splatters. Heâs laughing before he can breathe againâugly, sharp, adrenaline-bright.
Billy grunts, trying to roll, but Steveâs on top of him, shouting. âYou donât know me, you donât get to act like you doââ
The tackle knocked them into the beam of the headlights. Every flinch, every swing flashes gold, then shadow.
Billy gets one hand in Steveâs hair, yanks; Steve drives a fist into his stomach in return.
They stagger apart, then crash together again.
Billy swings back, catches him across the face, not enough to cause much damageâjust enough to make him stop.
But Steveâs fastârage carrying him through exhaustion. He hits Billy once, twice, until his arm aches. Billy grabs his wrist mid-swing, yanks him down, uses the momentum between them to flip him.
Now Billyâs the one straddling Steve, keeping him pinned, breathing hard, rain dripping from his hair onto Steveâs face.
âYeah?â Billy grabs his collar, yanks him close until their faces nearly touch. âThen why do you keep calling me?â
Steve freezes for half a second, breathing ragged. His expression cracks open. Overwhelmed by the sudden shift. âBecause you always show up.â
That lands. Billy hesitates, grip slackening. The fight dissolves into silence, both of them still half-ready to swing but not sure what for anymore.
âYeah and you always make me regret it.â Billy finally lets out a dry laugh, lifting his hand to thumb at the blood smeared across Steveâs chinâno doubt stinging when he brushes his split lip.
Steve hissed, throat working,no words left. Billy pushes to his feet, winces, gestures toward the car.
Steve stares at him, eyes wide, blood in his mouth, everything too quiet.
âCome on, before we freeze out here.â
They walk back slow, bruised, silent. The distance between them feels smaller than it should.
Malcolm âin the middleâ [x]
insp
Steveâs hand hovers before he knocks. He can hear something faint through the doorâmusic, maybe, the low hum of a guitar riff heâs heard Billy play before, bleeding through tinny speakers. For a second, he thinks about turning around, pretending he was never here. Pretending he didnât walk across campus with his heart hammering like it was trying to outrun him.
Then the door swings open before he can decide.
Billyâs standing there in a pair of sweatpants, a grey hoodie, one with fraying at the cuffs, so worn that the college logo on it was cracked and fadedâ Steveâs hoodie. Heâs got the hood halfway up, his hair messy like he just rolled out of bed. The room behind him is dim, lit only by the yellow glow of a desk lamp. He looks surprisedâbut not really. More like heâd been expecting something, just not quite this.
âHey,â Billy says, voice rough from disuse or smoke. His eyes flick down to Steveâs hands, then back up again. âYou need something or are you just gonna stand there looking like youâre lost.â
Steve stared at him wide eyed, hand dropping back to his side. âI can go if itâs not a good time, or whatever.â He shrugs, itâs tossed out easy but his gaze flicks over Billyâs shoulder, like he really means it.
Billy shakes his head, rolls his eyes like Steve is being ridiculous. But he doesnât hesitate when he steps aside, wordless, and Steve slips past him. The room smells like cologne and cigarettes, warm and sharp. Thereâs a mess of books on the desk, a half-empty mug, a pack of smokes lying open. Everything feels too Billyâchaotic but somehow intentional.
âDidnât think youâd show up here,â Billy says after a beat, closing the door with a quiet click. âThought you were avoiding me still.â
Steve rolls his eyes, though his pulse jumps. âI wasnât avoiding youâjust was busy.â He mumbles, doesnât even sound convincing to his own ears.
Billy smirks, leaning back against the door, arms folded. âYeah, sure you were.â
The silence that follows isnât awkwardâjust heavy. Steve can feel it pressing against his chest, the air thick with all the things that never made it out of their mouths. He wants to say something easy, something to deflectâbut the truthâs been sitting in his throat too long.
âPeopleâve been talking,â Steve says finally, eyes on the floor. âAbout you. About us.â The last part comes out carefullyâcautious.
Billy doesnât move for a long moment. Then he says, quietly, âYeah. Let âem talk.â
That makes Steve look up. âSince when do you give a shit what people say?â Thereâs something almost soft in Billyâs face, a flicker of something heâs not used to seeing thereâuncertainty, maybe. Or hope.
âI donât.â Steveâs quick with itâtoo quick. He runs a hair through his hair shifting from foot to foot. âI justâlook youâve been acting weird.â
Billy snorts âWeird, how?â
âI donât know, man. Youââ Steve gestures between them helplessly âYou donât look at people like that, like anyone, youâre treating me like weâreâI mean you donât do all that for nothing,â He cuts himself off, exhaling through his nose, frustrated. After a beat he finally meets Billyâs eyes âRight?â
Billy doesnât look away. He just lets the silence sit there until itâs heavy enough to make Steve squirm. Eventually he pushes away from the door taking a step forward, slow and deliberate.
âYouâre really wound up about this, huh.â Heâs not mocking, says it like an observation. Like itâs obvious, not even a question.
Steve scoffs out a laugh, âYeah, no kidding. Youâre the one fucking with me. Changing up on meâexcuse me for not understanding what your deal is.â
Billy blinks, his expression changingâsmall, almost imperceptible. Almost defensive. âYou think this is all just me fucking with you?â
Steve falters at the question. Billy voice isnât teasingâitâs like heâs asking something he doesnât wanna know the answer to.
âI donât knowâmaybe? Youâre the one who said it casual then you go andââ Steve waves a hand vaguely between them, but he doesnât finish that thought, clears his throat and starts over. âYou tell me itâs no big deal, but then you keep coming around. You text first, you stick around after.â His voice cracks a little, canât help it. âAnd I know how you are, you justâdonât do that with other people, Billy. You donât.â
Heâs rambling, he knows it. Heâs nervous and frustrated, doesnât know what to say. So he ends up saying too much. He exhales, voice breaking. âSo what am I supposed to think? You made those rules, not me.â
Billy doesnât look away, looking a lot more awake now than he did just a few minutes ago. âYeah,â he agrees. âAnd Iâm the one who broke them.â
Steve freezes, taken off guard. âWhat?â
Billyâs voice doesnât waver, his tone calm and final. âIâm saying it stopped being casual for me a long time ago. Thatâs my deal.â
Steveâs mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Billyâs eyes. âYouâre serious?â
Billy nods once. âYeah.â
Steve laughs softly, more nervous than amused. âYou couldâve said that before I made an idiot of myself.â
âWouldnât have believed me,â Billy says.
âMaybe not,â Steve admits, quiet. âStill wouldâve liked to hear it.â
Steveâs not sure who moves first, only that one second theyâre standing apart, and the next, Billyâs close enough that Steve can feel the warmth of his breath. Billyâs hand finds the back of his neck, not rough, not claimingâjust there. Waiting
âYouâre hearing it now.â
Itâs not at all what Steve was expecting. He thought maybe Billy would be pissed, maybe even throw him out the room. That wouldâve made more sense to him then this.
Steve lets out a breath thatâs half a laugh. âYou make it sound easy.â
Billy smirks, small and tired. âItâs not. But Iâm still here, arenât I?â
Steve studies him, then nods. âYeah. You are.â
Billy seems to relax a little, like maybe heâd been the one waiting for the bad reaction instead of Steve âGuess thatâs enough for right now.â
âYeah,â Steve says quietly, knowing thatâs the best answer heâs going to get out of him. But Billyâs right it is enough. âFor now.â

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Max: Ok, El. Take him out.
đŹ 0  đ 6  â¤ď¸ 33 ¡ Something just doesnât feel right. When Billy said it the first time Steve blew him off telling him he was fine. Billy was
Hereâs my part two that no one asked for lmao, but youâre getting it anyways
Steveâs breath stutters. For a second there he figures he must be fucking dreamingâ because the kinda line that Billy just dropped is one that only shows up in his worst late night thoughts, the ones he shoves down before they get dangerous.
âDo something about it?â He repeats, stunned, like saying the words out loud will make this less real.
Billyâs smirk twitches back into place, thin and ugly, but it doesnât hide the tremor in his jaw. âWhat, scared now? King Steve canât handle a real mess?â He leans heâs halfway sat up now, propped up on his elbows, spread wide across Steveâs bed like a dare. âThought you liked being the guy that cleans up everyone elseâs messes.â
Steveâs chest flares hot with anger, but the heat sinks lower, twisting. His fists clench helplessly at his sides. âYouâre such a prick,â he mutters, it sounds to much like surrender.
Billy just watches him now, eyes burning, his pants halfway down, shirt rucked up towards his armpits, heâs sweating something serious, his chest still heaving. Billy was definitely right about one partâ he was a fucking mess.
The worst partâ Steveâs already moving, closing the small distance between them. His knees bumping the edge of the mattress before heâs fully processed the weight of his decision. Even worse, heâs half hard in his own pants.
How fucked up is fucked up? This is some fucked up shit right here.
âThis is insane,â Steve says, voice low, cracking. âThis isnâtââ He swallows hard look down at the trainwreck that is currently Billy. âThis isnât how itâs supposed to happen.â
The last part is mumbled, mostly for himself, trying to calm his own nerves. Not even realizing the implication of what he just said.
Billyâs smirk softens to a smile, only for second, sharp and broken all at once. âYeah,â he says, raspy. âTell me about it.â
Steve hates how shaky he feelsâ as if heâs the one burning up instead. Billyâs eyes track him, his hands still trembling where they grip the sheets.
âSay it.â Steveâs voice is tighter than he means, âSay this isnât just you being an asshole.â
Billyâs breath hitches and thereâs a mean little curl of his lip. âYou wish I wanted you that bad, Harrington.â Then his grin falters, and the words donât land the way they were meant to. Even Steve can tell thatâs bullshitâ especially when Billy actually whines, his jaw working desperate. âCâmon, donât overthink itâ whatâs a hand between friends, right?â He breaks off with a groan, arching up off the mattress. âReally, Iâm not just fucking with you.â
The words hang thick in the air.
Billy moves just enough so Steve can prop a knee up on the bed, moving to lean over him. Almost in his lap.
Every instinct in him is screaming for him to back off, but his hand betrays himâ reaching to grab Billyâs wrist. Billy freezes, staring up at him. His pulse kicks under Steveâs fingers, wild.
âJesus Christ,â He breathesâ how was this his life right now. Even surprising himself with how easy he gives in, it wouldâve made more sense to leave Billy to work through this on his own. He finds himself cautiously tugging Billyâs arm away so he can replace his hand with his own.
The reaction from Billy is instant, his hips jerk up and his head tips back swearing to himself. He starts making these small noises, like heâs in painâlike itâs all too much even though Steveâs barely touched him yet.
âFuckââ Billyâs voice cracks, raw, wrecked. âKnew youâd cave.â Itâs probably meant to sound smug, but it comes out like a prayer.
Steveâs teeth grind, face flushing. âShut up.â His thumb slides over the tip of his cock starting to actually move his hand, not trying to waste time.
Sure, heâs been naked in the locker room with the guy plenty of timesâyeah maybe heâs checked him out a little too long. But this was different, seeing him hard and actually touching him in this wayâwell, looking was one thing, this was something straight from Steveâs most repressed thoughts.
Billyâs answering sound is ragged, unguarded, it sends something hot spiraling down his spine.
Heâs leaking so much, it eases the way no problem. Steve tries not to think about how close they are, especially when Billy slides a hand up the back of his shirt, pulling him forward, the space between them disappearing just like that.
Heâs never handled a dick besides his own, but he canât be much different than jerking himself off. He doesnât let himself over think it, because like Billy had said beforeâitâs just a handjob, right?
There was no hiding the fact that Steve was hard too but thankfully Billy doesnât say anythingâmaybe finally realizing when to shut up.
Billyâs breath hits Steveâs cheek, hot and uneven.
For a second, they just stare at each otherâtwo stubborn idiots waiting for the other to blink first.
Then Billy leans in, barely a shift of weight, just enough that Steve forgets how to breathe.
Itâs not a kiss, not yet. But itâs close enough that every thought in Steveâs head drops out at once. âStill think itâs not your problem?â Billy says, quiet this time.
Steve doesnât answer. He canât. Every part of him feels strung tight, so out of his depthâknows exactly how this will end. He also knows thereâs no right answer anyways.