ragegrove

[ragegrove]

"yeah, not that i mind being violated though." a snort, not by a pretty girl like her. that part he won't say out loud to keep her ego from going wild at him complimenting her. "well, that sounds even better. i like it." being a public safety hazard to the public, that sounds even better. "a golden retriever." parroting her words to let the idea sit for half a second before realizing it doesn't sound right.

"you're the golden retriever with an attitude problem, cindy. i'm the rottweiler with a unable to tolerate bullshit problem." he argues, starting to think she's just stalling to keep him here longer. "scared... i'm not scared of anything," billy scoffs, "i just don't want to look like an idiot. what you think looks good, i'll think looks like the nearest nerd around."

"violation?" her nose scrunches slightly, like the word itself is funny. she lifts a brow, lips quirking in something half-smirk, half-smile, just a little bit challenging. her fingers toy with the brush in her hand, turning it over absently. "you know you can't, but you want to." her lashes flutter, a blink just slow enough to be deliberate. "maybe. maybe not." a small shrug. "guess you’ll never know, huh?" her gaze flickers, amused, warm, no real defenses up. "oh, yeah? the life of the party?" her voice lifts just slightly, just teasing. "i dunno, babe. sounds more like a ‘public safety hazard’ to me." her nails tap lightly against the brush handle, rhythm unbothered, absentminded.

"poodle?" a soft laugh, eyes glinting as she tilts her head, like she’s considering it. "nah. i was thinking more like… a golden retriever with an attitude problem." there’s no real bite in it, just playfulness, just the way they talk. her lashes lower slightly, an easy smile slipping across her lips. "but if you're scared, just say that." her voice stays light, teasing, effortless. no pressure, no stakes—just the easy push and pull of the moment.

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"that'd be a violation." a snort emits as he plays, "you know you can't, but you want to." gravelly voice antagonizes, twitch of a smirk playing at his lips. trying hard not to cave in to this song and dance he seems to always be finding himself in with cindy, but he can't resist yet again. "well . . . someone's gotta be the life of the party." admitting to his boisterous personality, but this time with a compliment to himself of course.

a pause as he absorbs cindy's words, unpredictable blues lingering on the blonde's face a little longer than he'd like. he couldn't help but stare, when her eyes were magnetic. but . . . something about all of her was that way, the only reason he was still tied here now, his broad form unmoving– despite, if she were anyone else, he'd already made a beeline for it without a second of hesitation. not that she could ever find that out, or that he'd admit it to himself. "for what reasonin' anyway? to make me look like some kind of poodle?" back to square one.

"oh, pleeease." her scoff is just as dramatic, just as dismissive, lips curling in something between amusement and disbelief. "if i wanted to touch your ass, hargrove, you'd know it." her hand stills for half a second on the brush, just long enough for her to watch the way he acts like he doesn’t hear her, like he’s not the loudest thing in any room, like the entire town hasn’t spent the last two years trying to figure out how to shut him up. "right, no noise at all. the wind must be screaming for no reason." her smirk sharpens at the edges when his eyes meet hers in the mirror, when she sees the exact moment he realizes she’s right. because of course she’s right. because she always is. because billy might pretend he doesn’t notice—but he does. and then he’s moving, pushing up from the chair, trying to escape before she can really do anything.

cindy tilts her head, watching the way he smirks like he’s won something. "aw, come on, babe. you already sat down. what’s another two minutes?" she’s teasing, playful, batting her lashes just enough to be a little dangerous. but her hands stay where they are—not stopping him, not pushing, not giving him a reason to bolt. because she’s not going to chase him. but she’s also not going to make it easy for him to leave.

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"sure, cindy lou who. you're just looking for an excuse to touch my ass." a scoff, giving a small roll of his eyes, watching what she's grabbing for as her hand reaches for the brush. billy's sure it's not too far off... matches his eyes, yeah right. "what noise?" feigning ignorance, like he doesn't know he's got loudest mouth everywhere he goes and he's the biggest hell-raiser this town's ever seen.

"oh, yeah? can it, smart ass. you're still the loser of this game." she's really not, he just hates how smart she is and how quick she can keep up. finding her gaze in the mirror, he's briefly listening before realizing she's right... he is complying way too much. "sounds like i need to go, then." pushing himself up from the seat, smirking deviously because she didn't even get to go crazy with the hairspray yet.

"oh my god, billy, don’t threaten me with a good time,” cindy deadpans, eyes glinting with amusement as she flicks an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder. "pink would totally bring out your eyes, you know. i mean, if you're really serious about the whole ass-painting thing, i can pull some strings."

she barely flinches when he swats at her hand, already expecting it, already moving just a little too slow on purpose—just to annoy him. but the way he says it, like she's too on the nose about him, makes her grin stretch wider. "biggest stalker? babe, please," she scoffs, reaching past him for a comb without a second glance. "as if i’d have to stalk you. you make so much noise everywhere you go, it’s impossible not to notice."

*she twirls the comb between her fingers, eyes flicking toward his in the mirror, unbothered, completely in her element. "and you love that i notice, so don’t even start.” but then he throws mötley crüe into the mix, and cindy presses a hand to her chest in mock devastation. "oh, no. one tape. tragic. my reputation as your personal music psychic is ruined,” she sighs, shaking her head as she steps around him, circling back toward the counter. "what ever shall i do?"

her hand hovers over the hairspray can, slow, deliberate. she doesn’t grab it just yet—lets him see the movement, lets him anticipate it. "but you know what?" she hums, tilting her head, watching him in the mirror like she’s sizing him up. "you actually sitting still for this long? not completely bitching about it?" she clicks her tongue, flashing him a teasing grin. "i think that means i won."

and then she grabs the hairspray.

[ragegrove]

❛   ...  a  broken  rose  with  LAUGHING  eyes,  you’re  a  MYSTERY.  always  running  wild:  like  a  child––  WITHOUT  A  HOME.  you’re  always  searching,  searching  for  a  feeling.  ❜

CALIFORNIAN SURFER RAT, guttering in HAWKINS. ​an  independent  writing  blog  for  𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲  𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞  from  𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒.  rules  &  other  stats  can  be  found  by  redirecting  to  my  theme.  oc  friendly,  multi-muse  friendly,  crossover  friendly.  fun,  good  vibes  +  kindness  ONLY.  

[ragegrove]

why cant I just bite people when they piss me off like what's the fucking issue here

[ragegrove]

┊┊ open to mutuals and non mutuals. ˑ 🌊 ㅤ&.ㅤㅤ،1986.

"you expect, what? for me to care? tch." a pause, plucking the cigarette from lips as blood drips off his eyebrow down his cheekbone– unbothered to clean it as cigarette smoke exhales, "he got what was coming." a product of his ripe rage from EARLIER at home caused a fight ( billy was looking for anyway ) to escalate at the party. but also, there was an alternate reasoning. maybe a part of him DID come to their defense. "and i did warn him, i told him it was his funeral."

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Rob Lowe (80’s)

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♡ ───── happy valentine's day @ragegrove for lydia & billy

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REBLOG, DO NOT REPOST ⚠️

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Stranger Things | 3.04

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talking about 80s fcs with my fren and i decided to add r.ob lowe as my alt fc <3 🤭 bc literally, 80s fcs are too cool to be so underrated so i must contribute. 💙

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billy gifs | hawkinsboys 🩵

[ragegrove]

"yeah," tone flat, "i'd paint my ass pink, if i could. i love it that much." billy sarcastically responds before a cattish smirk curls his lips despite all the natural oozing grumpiness. ring clad hand reaching back to lightly swat off her hand for messing up his curls. "well, i didn't say it was an all night stare and stop." he claims, impressed and loathing all at the same time how intuitive and smart she is.

he was too used to the girls who only had air for brains. they didn't usually pinpoint all these things about him so easily, it was clear cindy was intelligent– while that was surprisingly wildly attractive, it was also irritating. his most pet peeve: only because it meant she could see through him. "and how do you know that? because you're my biggest stalker." answering for the palmer princess, what a ridiculous claim when he invites her into his car all the time.

"all the above, but you forgot mötley crüe." he adds, sitting still momentarily, brows pinching in a small crease as she circles around and then she grabs for the hairspray. prepared to swat it away if she uses too much. "so maybe, that means, you failed." all over just one tape, not admitting she's clearly been paying attention and in fact got it all right about himself. frustratingly, another attractive thing.

"oh please, you love pink," cindy , barely holding back a grin as she fluffed his curls just to irritate him. "don’t act like it wouldn’t bring out those pretty little highlights of yours, babe. golden surfer boy and all that." she felt the shift in him, that nearly imperceptible tension curling in his shoulders, the way his breath hitched just slightly when she leaned in close. if she didn’t know any better, she’d think he liked it—this game of his, pretending like he wasn’t affected. pretending like he didn’t feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck when her lips had barely grazed his skin.

"and for someone who supposedly sat down just to stare at himself, you’re awfully impatient," she muses, stepping back just far enough to admire her work in progress. her head tilts, like she’s examining a painting, deciding where to add the final strokes. "starting to think you don’t actually hate this as much as you pretend to... it's almost like you're having fun." she smirks, circling around him, the soft click of her heels against the studio floor deliberate, slow. she reaches out, barely brushing her fingers against the sharp line of his jaw before catching his chin between two fingers—gently, just enough to tilt his head back ever so slightly, to meet her gaze in the mirror in front of them.

"besides," she continues, voice honey-smooth and cool, "i do know you, hargrove. maybe not all the way. maybe not yet." she pauses, just enough weight behind the words to make them linger. "but i do know that if i check under the seat of that camaro, i’m gonna find at least a couple ratt tapes, two metallicas, one scorpions, and maybe—maaaybe—a van halen album if i’m feeling generous.” she winks, letting go of his chin before he can shake her off, before he can come up with another excuse to be so unbothered. she was having too much fun getting under his skin. she flicks the cap off a hairspray can, her smirk widening. her gaze flicks toward the mirror, watching for his reaction—not that she’d ever admit to looking for one. "tell me i’m wrong."

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"oh, i'm sure it's something pink." if not a prom dress. "well hurry up, palmer princess. i don't got all day." the pretty finger pushed into his skin causing his head to gently turn only serves to alert his senses to give it a lick. "enhancing it..." curly blond parrots, "uh huh." he snorts, forced to look back forward. "too much van halen? you don't know me at all." billy teases, since of course he digs van halen but not a band that his tape player burns out on.

face remaining hard as stone, gaze indecipherable and unfazed on his stoic OUTSIDE– but on the inside his heart speeds up, banging a little harder in the confines of his ribcage, all at the sound of cindy's voice so close to his ear and her lips brushing against his skin. the addicting smell of her hair getting in his face. which only serves to irritate him more that his heart races and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at how the simple move can weaken him like that so powerfully. "can it. i only sat down to stare at myself."

“oh my god, billy, relax,” cindy drawled, twirling a teasing strand of his hair between her fingers like she had all the time in the world. “you act like i’m putting you in a prom dress or something.”

she smirked, stepping back just enough to admire her work so far, hands perched on her hips like a true artist surveying their masterpiece. the overhead lights in the glamour shots studio cast a glossy sheen over billy’s sun-bronzed skin, his impatience written in every tense muscle and the dramatic roll of his ocean-blue eyes.

"besides, don’t flatter yourself—i’m not trying to change your style, tough guy.” her voice was sugary-sweet, just to piss him off. "i'm enhancing it. you know, bringing out your whole ‘dangerous bad boy who probably listens to too much van halen’ vibe. you're welcome.”

she caught him trying to turn his head to peek, but she tsked, nudging his jaw back into place with just the slightest press of her manicured fingers. "nuh-uh. don’t ruin the surprise, hargrove."

then, with a mischievous grin, she leaned in, close enough for her breath to ghost over his ear—just to see if he’d flinch.

"besides, if you hated this that much, you wouldn’t have sat down in the first place."

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a thousand kisses baby