#werewolf!billy

It’s been a month since Billy kissed Steve, pulled him close by the neck of his red sweater and slotted their lips together, pressed his tongue into Steve’s mouth and turned his life upside down. Steve can’t get enough of him since. 

All they’ve done in the past month is kiss, going so far as to roll around in Steve’s bed one afternoon, only for Billy to pull away abruptly once their hips touch. 

Steve watches as Billy lays back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling, both hands clenched into fists. 

The thing is, Steve doesn’t mind that they’re not having sex. He’d gladly kiss Billy all day if that’s all he wants to do, but it weirds him out a little how Billy pulls away like he’s been burned when things were fine a second ago. 

“Are… You okay?” Steve asks, the words coming out slow and tentative. 

“Yep,” Billy says tightly. Steve’s having a hard time believing him. 

“You don’t look okay, man,” he tries. Billy only grunts in response. His face is twisted up in a scowl, but the look in Billy’s eyes is a little distant, like he’s… concentrating? “Is this a werewolf thing?” 

Billy’s silent for a long time, enough that Steve doesn’t think he’s gonna answer. 

“No,” Billy says, finally, and Steve can feel the zing of the lie in the air. He frowns. 

“You know I don’t care about that stuff, right?” Steve says. “Like, I know you’re extra strong and fangy, but I’m just as magic as you are.”

“It’s not about the fangs,” Billy spits out, showing actual anger for the first time the whole day. 

“So what is it about, then?” Steve insists, searching Billy’s face for an answer. Then his eyes flick down to Billy’s hands, which are still clenched tight. “Is it about the claws?”

“Shut up,” Billy says. Too quickly.

“Oh my God, it is!” Steve’s jaw drops, and he sits up abruptly. 

Billy grunts, half a huff and half a snarl, pushing himself off the bed and stomping toward the door.

“Wait, Billy, come on!” 

Steve reaches out, and his hand closes around Billy’s wrist. For a second, he thinks Billy is going to snap, is going to push him against the wall and snarl in his face, but Billy just… stops. He goes completely still, refusing to look at Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Steve pleads. He doesn’t feel right letting Billy leave like this, on this sour note, and the need to pull Billy against his body, wrap him up close, sticks to his throat. “I didn’t mean to push you. It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it.” 

Billy lets out a harsh breath, and Steve can see his jaw tense like he’s trying to grind his teeth into dust. But his wrist turns in Steve’s grasp and slips through his fingers until their palms slot together, soft and warm. Billy turns around.

“It’s not…” Billy starts, then stops, twisting his mouth into a grimace. “I just don’t wanna hurt you,” is what he settles on. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he adds when Steve opens his mouth to protest. “You don’t have invulnerable fucking skin. What if I lose focus at the wrong time, and my claws catch on your scalp? On your throat?” 

Billy finally looks at him, and Steve sighs, shoulders going lax, all tension leaving him in one moment. Billy doesn’t look angry. He looks tentative and unsure, and more open than he’s been the entire time they’ve been doing this.

“Okay. I get it,” Steve says, voice dipping to a low murmur. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about that.” 

“Yeah,” Billy says, and they go quiet. He does step closer, though, and half-leans against Steve, digging his nose into Steve’s neck. He can feel Billy breathe in deep, and Steve lifts a hand to wrap around Billy’s waist.

“I just thought… The girls you’ve been with, they’re mostly human… And none of them found out about you being a werewolf, so I…” Steve starts, but is cut off by a snort coming from Billy. The hot air from his breath tickles Steve’s neck, and he shivers.

“I don’t lose my focus around girls. Not like when I’m around you,” Billy says, barely above a whisper. Steve feels his breath catch, and wants so badly to say me too, you make me feel like that too, but Billy speaks again, dragging his nose across Steve’s skin as he lifts his head to look at him. “Besides, I never do more than make out with them. It’s never been a problem before.” 

Steve freezes, hand going still where it’s been stroking Billy’s side. 

“You’ve never…?” He lets the question hang in the air, and Billy stiffens. 

“That a problem?” His voice is carefully even, face going blank, and Steve panics.

“No! No, of course not. No,” Steve hurries to say, squeezing Billy’s hand tightly. “It doesn’t matter. Well, I matter a little, but like, not in a bad way, I just— I mean—” Steve takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. We can— We’ll figure it out together,” he says. Pleads. 

Billy huffs a laugh, lips forming that smug smirk that Steve once found infuriating but now only fills his stomach with warmth. 

“Yeah, alright,” Billy says, nosing at Steve’s neck again. “I guess I’d like that.” 

---

It’s juicer this time

—

"Billy? What the hell happened?!"

Steve has said these words before, in a variety of tones and levels of exasperation, but now they ring out to the open sky with a sharp note of desperation.

Billy's bleeding in his backyard.

Steve kneels down beside him where he's slumped over one of the lounge chairs, arms akimbo and on his side. There's a faint whistling sound when he breathes. Steve hasn't really been trained in healing past the basics, nothing like his mom was, so he doesn't know exactly how bad it is. He just knows it's bad.

"Billy?" Steve says, voice trembling to match the hand hovering over Billy's head. Billy doesn’t answer, hasn’t answered this whole time, and Steve is starting to panic. “Billy, come on!”

Billy starts awake when Steve’s hand lands on his shoulder, flinching away and immediately groaning in pain. But he relaxes when his eyes settle on Steve, bruised and swollen as they are.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy slurs, making an attempt at a smirk. It comes out more of a grimace.

“Billy, what the fuck,” Steve says. He can’t see where Billy is injured in the position he’s in, but even his denim jacket is stained a horrible, dark red. “Let me see.”

Steve tries to move Billy onto his back, touching him gently; perhaps more gently than he’s ever touched anything, even Nancy. Still, a thin moan of pain escapes from Billy’s throat, and Steve bits his lip so he doesn’t start yelling his head off. He needs to keep cool right now, or he won’t be any help to Billy.

He has the awful urge to vomit when he sees Billy’s front; what’s left of his white t shirt is soaked through with blood, and it’s in ribbons. So is his abdomen.

“How did this happen? Talk to me, man,” Steve pleads, touching Billy’s chest with a careful hand. It’s the oddest thing, though, barely any blood stains his fingers when he shifts, as if the blood is almost dry. Like the wounds aren’t fresh.

Steve’s never seen Billy with wounds older than, like, fifteen minutes. He heals fast, even for a wolf.

“You should see the other guy,” Billy mumbles. It sounds like bullshit.

“Billy, why aren’t you healing?” Steve asks. “I’ve seen you heal a broken leg in two minutes, man, what the fuck.”

“I’m fine,” Billy grunts. Then he tries to push himself up, like he’s going to try to leave.

“Stop doing that, dickhead, you’re gonna make it worse!” Steve snaps, trying to keep Billy still. They stare each other down for what feels like eternity until Billy huffs and lies back down. “You’re obviously not fine.”

“I’m gonna heal eventually,” Billy insists.

“Before you bleed out? Or can you heal from that too?!” Steve says, voice ringing sharply in the open yard. “Tell me what happened so I can help you! Are you poisoned? Why aren’t you healing?”

“It was just a fight,” Billy says, but he doesn’t have the energy to make it sound like the truth.

“Yeah, with a fucking dinosaur apparently,” Steve grumbles, while trying to push Billy’s clothes away to get a better look.

He looks awful. He looks like he should be dead. For a moment, Steve feels hopeless; he doesn’t know enough about healing to fix this, not if there’s anything in Billy’s system that’s keeping his own advanced healing from kicking in. Steve feels terrified, and young, desperately wishing his mom was here. She’d know what to do. But she’s out of town.

Steve can’t leave Billy like this. He’s gonna have to do something.

“Okay, I can do this,” Steve mutters under his breath, taking a deep breath.

—

Feral werewolf Billy who only remembers one name. Steve.

He’s being held in a government facility because he’s really dangerous and keeps going on the rampage whenever someone annoys him but when he gets unexpectedly transferred to a holding facility in Hawkins he breaks out during the night and finds his way to the Harringtons doorstep.

All Steve remembers him as is the guy he had a crush on who beat him up that one time but when Billy steals him off into the woods and starts providing for him, he realises that there might be something far more serious going on and realises even more concerningly that he starts getting dreams about life with Billy where Billy calls him his mate. And that he wants that.

Did you just say feral!Billy...? 💳💥💥💥💳💥💥💥

~ read on ao3 ~

B1 Rut Sex

Steve hates that he’s nicer to Billy when he’s a wolf. Even on Billy’s most off-the-rails days, he can just turn into a wolf and the caveman bone in Steve’s brain just lights up at the sight of a furry friend.

And Billy knows. That’s the annoying part.

Based on this post ~

Part 30

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳) ( pt. 27’s art 🦦 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

It was only the prior experience of having someone jump on Steve’s head that kept his body stationary despite the jolt into consciousness.

“Stevie! Stevie! Wake up! Helwp!”

“What?” his mouth fumbled. “Wha’sthmatter?”

“Something’s wong with Biwwy! He’s hurwt!”