#Biology of Billy Hargrove | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ganjas-shit · 7 months ago

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Oh, You’re Breaking My Heart

Warnings: sexual thoughts, angst, mentions of ptsd, Neil Hargrove, mentions of loneliness and isolation.

Pairings: main pairing Billy x reader, some slight Steve x reader

Summary: Your longing for an exciting romance finally comes true when Billy Hargrove becomes your next-door neighbor. But is love everything you thought it would be?

Authors note: hi everyone! I’m most likely going to be turning this into a series (don’t know how long yet) but I’m so very excited because this has been sitting in my drafts for about a year already and I’ve finally decided to just finish it. There will be eventual smut for this soooooooooooo yea tee hee anyways hope you guys like it! Btw the timeline I’m using is not the same as the one in the show.

Chapter 1: Sea of Stars, Chapter 2: You’re gonna to be okay.

☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚☆˖°☾ ⋆˚

Love was something you deeply craved, something you longed for. As ridiculous as it sounds, you thought about it almost every day.

Having that one partner in crime; someone you can be reckless, wild, and free with. Someone who makes you forget about reality; someone who would do anything for you. Someone who knows the deepest, darkest parts of you.

For a while it became something you obsessed over.

Intimate, passionate, crazy love—blamed for the constant loneliness you felt. Your obsession with fictional romance failed to alleviate it. No amount of reading or watching could fill the cavity in your heart, that horrible feeling of emptiness in your chest.

Then Billy Hargrove became your next-door neighbor.

It all happened so fast.

Your belly erupted with a swarm of butterflies the moment his ocean-blue eyes met yours, as if the world paused just for that brief moment.

His dirty blonde curls and tan skin ignited something deep inside you. Soon enough, the emptiness in your chest was replaced by the fierce pounding of your heart.

Pretty boys came with a lot of attention, though, meaning Billy Hargrove came with a lot of attention.

Every girl threw themselves at him the moment he set foot in Hawkins High. And who could blame them? With a face like his, he was downright gorgeous. If you had the courage, you'd throw yourself at him too.

But for now, simply admiring him from a distance would suffice.

You took pride in that though. Who else can say they had a perfect view of Billy Hargrove almost every night through their window?

You spent countless nights watching him smoke cigarettes outside on the hood of his Camaro, admiring the way the moonlight hit his face as he was in deep thought about God knows what.

It was pretty hard not to look at Billy other than those nights through your window though...

In Mrs. Clarke's biology class, you'd often catch yourself staring at him. He'd sense your gaze and once smirked back at you, letting you know he felt your eyes on him.

And God, he would never forget the look on your face—wide-eyed and embarrassed as hell.

He thought it was the funniest thing in the world and he found it quite entertaining.

He found you quite entertaining.

Billy was so accustomed to girls throwing themselves at him; it was something he had gotten used to since he hit puberty. And although he enjoyed all the flirtatious looks and comments girls threw at him, he eventually grew bored of it.

However, you and Billy shared a common craving. Whether it was for love, excitement, intimacy, or entertainment, both of you yearned for something more.

“Shit guys, we totally forgot to hang up banners in the gym for tomorrow's basketball game!” You screamed like a madwoman startling the entire student council.

With just two minutes left until dismissal, exhaustion hung heavy in the air. The entire week had been a relentless blur of preparation for the school's first basketball game of the season and its accompanying activities. By this point, everyone, including you, was over it.

As the bell rang, everyone dashed out of the classroom as if their lives depended on it. They gave you apologetic looks, patted your shoulder, and mumbled every excuse imaginable to avoid putting up those banners in the school gym.

“So fuck me huh?!” you yelled after them, throwing both your arms up in frustration before dropping them in defeat.

As head of the student council, you couldn't afford to procrastinate. The principal had emphasized that those banners had to be up and ready for tomorrow's game, or there would be consequences. That prick didn't intimidate you in the slightest, but, you had a reputation to maintain, and everything had to be flawless.

You huffed and grumbled as you entered the gym, your arms hugging a variety of large banners needing to be hung up. Your frustration completely blinded you to the sight of the gym full of shirtless basketball players.

Suddenly, a basketball collided with your shoulder at full speed, knocking the banners out of your arms.

The gym erupted in laughter.

“This isn't the student council club you do know that right kooks?” Tommy H. yelled from the court, laughing, trying so hard to impress his dickhead teammates.

Kooks.

They had given you that nickname after the scene you caused at Tina's Halloween party last year. It's the reason you no longer associate yourself with that crowd.

You remember it like it was yesterday.

You arrived at Tina's party with Tommy and Carol by your side, just one week after your harrowing experience of getting stuck in the Upside Down. It probably wasn't the wisest decision to be out, and you knew it. You had been home, cutting class, and ignoring their calls, and they had noticed a change in you. You were easily irritable and on edge. Carol even made a snide comment about how you'd probably been hanging out with Munson, snorting too much Special K.

According to them, you were a real drag to be around. So, they dragged you out of the house, urging you to let loose and forget about whatever it was you were dealing with. And so you did. You drank until you couldn't feel anymore, indulging in anything and everything that was being passed around.

Carol was never truly your friend; she was someone you grew up with and were kind of forced to know. She never really cared for you, so it was no surprise when you overheard her snickering with a few girls from the cheer squad.

They all eyed you up and down as you drunkenly swayed to the music.

“Wonder what hell she's been living; she's out of fucking control,” Carol remarked, smacking her gum as she laughed with the girls next to her, rolling her eyes at you.

Your ears perked up at her words, and they echoed in your head on a relentless loop, amplified by the effects of alcohol and marijuana.

Hell. Hell. Hell.

Images from that fateful night flooded your mind—the frantic sprint through the woods, the desperate attempt to escape the unknown terror pursuing you. You ran until your lungs burned and your legs gave out, only to find yourself in a place that resembled home but felt like a nightmare. It was as though you had fallen into a pit and landed in a realm you could only describe as hell. Darkness enveloped everything, the air thick with swirling black particles, and a monstrous creature hunted you down as if you were its final prey.

Tears welled up at the memory, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You had been bottling up your emotions, feeling isolated because what you had experienced sounded utterly unbelievable.

You charged at Carol and shoved her into the wall, causing picture frames of Tina's seemingly perfect family to crash to the floor.

Like the breaking picture frames, the smiles masking their true essence shattered that night, much like your own exterior, revealing the turmoil within.

You started to laugh manically, tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Oh, Carol, you haven't seen hell,” you chuckled, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “It's right beneath this town, and it's anything but pretty. It's downright awful.”

Carol was frightened tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she felt powerless in this position.

“Hey! What the hell is your problem, Y/L/N? Get off of her!”Tommy yelled, rushing towards you and Carol, pulling you away from her.

You pushed him back. “Don't you dare put your fucking hands on me!” you yelled, your words laced with venom. He backed away, refocusing his attention on Carol, attempting to comfort her throbbing head.

The images flashed in your head: your screams, the Demogorgon, the overwhelming sense of isolation. You turned to face the party, and all eyes were on you as the music came to a sudden stop.

“How can you all just sit here and party,”you sobbed, your voice growing louder, more terrifying with each word. Nobody dared to approach you or even attempt to calm you down. It was clear you were experiencing a psychotic break.

You hadn't spoken to Steve in months, ever since he started distancing himself from you, Tommy, and Carol. But you couldn't forget the moment when he threw you over his shoulder, with Nancy by his side, and dragged you out of that party.

That night, you cried until you fell asleep, finding comfort in the presence of Nancy Wheeler and your old friend Steve Harrington. When you woke up the next day, you found yourself in Nancy's bed, bombarded with all sorts of questions. You ended up sharing the horrifying experiences you had down there, and for the first time in a long while, you didn't feel alone. Now, you were stuck with a new nickname and a family bonded by the traumas of the Upside Down.

You laughed at the memory but the anger you felt in the moment snapped you back to reality.

The basketball rolled to the side, catching your attention. With all eyes on you, including Billy's intrigued gaze, you felt an itch for release. Without a second thought, you picked up the ball and with one swift motion, threw it at full speed. It struck the side of Tommy's head, catching him completely by surprise as he was too preoccupied trying to make his teammates laugh.

“You do realize there's a basketball game tomorrow, right?” You questioned voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe you should practice your passes a little more, you fucking prick!” you shot back, mimicking his tone with a hint of venom.

The laughter in the gym was quickly replaced by a chorus of “oooh's,” and Tommy was visibly seething with anger, clutching the side of his head where the basketball had struck him.

“You're so lucky you're a girl, freak!” Tommy yelled, pointing his finger at you in frustration.

You smiled and flipped him the bird.

Your reaction sparked something in Billy's gut, a mix of amusement and something else. He couldn't help but burst into laughter, though you might not have noticed being too preoccupied with picking the banners up.

Before he even realized it, Billy found himself inexplicably drawn towards you, as if some invisible force was guiding his steps.

Like his legs had minds of their own.

“That was quite a throw,” a deep, angelic voice sounded from behind you. Shit, you had totally forgotten he was here.

“Those throws are especially reserved for dickheads,” you retorted without turning around, your face turning as red as a tomato.

Billy's chuckle caught you off guard, something you never thought you'd hear up close. As you started to walk off to finish what you came here for, you heard him clear his throat, stopping you in your tracks.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” he questioned, giving you no choice but to turn around and see what he was referring to.

And god all mighty

There he was, shirtless. His tan skin glistened with sweat, revealing defined abs and muscular arms. Geez, you could've passed out right then and there.

He wore a proud smirk, revealing a perfect set of teeth as he held out the tape you needed for the banners. You almost drooled at the sight of him, feeling your core heat up and your cheeks flush.

“Oh, uh—thanks” you nervously said, quickly grabbing the tape from his hand. Surprisingly, you still maintained eye contact. God, he loved the effect he had on you.

“You need any help with those?” he chuckled once again. That's twice now; one more and you might just jump on him.

“Don’t you have to get ready for tomorrow’s game?” You asked timidly.

Jesus, why did you care?

“They can’t overwork their star player sweetheart.” He winked, once again flashing his pearly whites

You died and went to heaven at this point.

Sweetheart? That wink?

Your mouth hung open and he left you speechless, like a crazed fan girl. You started to wonder how he’d look at you if you were on your knees taking all of him.

How he’d talk to you..

“Look at you taking all of me sweetheart.”

God you really needed to get your shit together.

“Come on sweetheart don’t leave me hanging,” he said as he waved his hand in your face, trying to bring you back to reality.

He really needed to stop calling you that.

“Um, yeah, I guess I could use a little help,” you said, swallowing harshly. Your gaze shifted from the banners in your hands to his lips.

You really hated how flustered you got around him but a small part of you loved these new feelings.

“Great.” he responded with a cheeky grin.

You found yourself not being much help; he took charge and handled the banner hanging almost entirely by himself. He insisted on doing it, claiming it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

Tommy looked over at the two of you, confused. Billy Hargrove being a gentleman, to the psycho? Hell must've frozen over, he thought.

With Billy taking on the work, you had no choice but to stand there, looking all pretty, as you ripped pieces of tape with your mouth and passed them to him. You guided him on how to position the banners into place.

You couldn't help but notice the way his back muscles flexed when he reached up to position the banner, sending a flutter through your stomach.

You’d never been this close to him.

It also didn’t help that he brushed his fingers against yours every time he went to grab a piece of tape from you. And with him on the stool, towering above you, looking down at you, there was plenty of room for imagination for you both.

You were convinced he was trying to fucking kill you. Was he aware of the effect he had on you?

Every touch from him sent every single nerve in your body into a frenzy.

And those were just your fingers; you could only imagine what would happen if his fingers touched the spot you longed for him the most.

In the past few weeks, Billy had noticed that he was always running into you one way or another. So, he decided he might as well make it fun.

You were different from the girls he usually pursued, and he liked that. It made things all the more exciting. Billy had learned a few things about you: you were timid but had a backbone, responsible (an assumption he made because you were the student council president), and not too worried about your appearance, which didn't really matter because you were already breathtakingly beautiful.

“LADIES, HUDDLE UP! HARGROVE, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!” Coach Williams's voice rang out, snapping both you and Billy out of your thoughts.

Billy climbed off the step stool and leaned in towards your ear, catching you completely by surprise. He whispered, "Glad I can be of help, sweetheart. If you need help with anything else, I'm only one house away." With a smirk, he pulled back and left to return to his team captain duties.

The hot of this breath made your body shiver.

The look on your face was embarrassing, with your cheeks hot and your mouth slightly hanging open. Billy would never forget it; in fact, the mere sight of your mouth hanging open made him twitch in his pants as his imagination ran wild once again.

Your thoughts wouldn't allow you peace of mind as you finished tidying up the banners into place. Lost in thought, you hadn't even noticed that everyone had already left the gym, leaving you alone in the empty space.

The sound of the door gym doors opening startled you, snapping you back to reality.

You smiled at the sight of the tall brunette.

“Ah if it isn’t King Steve” you say teasingly, “or should I say EX King Steve who has been dethroned by the new California hottie.” You tease poking at his face

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Steve replied dryly swatting your fingers away, taking fake offense to your comment.

Steve could care less about his so called “throne” he had new priorities, which consisted of ooking after you and his newfound family of children.

“Very funny y/n,” he said sarcastically.

Steve couldn't help but wonder if you and Billy had been hanging out. He had noticed how fond you had grown of him ever since he stepped into town. Lately, he had observed a change in your demeanor, how excited you were to get home, and how your face lit up at the sound of Billy's name. Steve could practically feel the butterflies radiating off of you.

“Hanging around is pushing it, Steve. We're just neighbors,” you reply, with a slight blush on your face that doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve.

“Yeah, I don't blush when someone mentions Agatha, my next-door neighbor,” he scoffs, shivering at the thought of his creepy stalker neighbor.

You roll your eyes at him, though it's quickly replaced with a smirk. “Well, Billy isn't a creepy stalker,”you say, though you wouldn't mind if he was. “Plus, he's kinda hot,”you finish, nudging his shoulder as you two make your way out of the gym.

“Yeah, gross,” Steve dramatically gags, though he also cringes at the slight twinge of jealousy he keeps feeling in his stomach.

You and Steve never hooked up. However, you two did develop some weird feelings for each other, but it was probably because you were so close to dying together.

You frown at the memory you thought was going to be the last.

Vines from the Upside Down began to wrap around your neck and body. Steve was right next to you, suffering the same fate. He looked at you, his heart breaking at the fear in your eyes. Trying to bring you some comfort, he gathered as much strength as he could and reached his hand out for yours, interlocking them together.

Thankfully, Eddie and Dustin saved you and everyone who thought it would be a bright idea to fight off Vecna. Ever since that day, though, Steve has been attached to your hip, making sure you get home safely after school and always ensuring you aren't alone.

Sometimes he'd find himself gazing at your lips or absentmindedly brushing away strands of hair that danced across your face on a windy day.

Steve didn’t know where you two stood. Neither of you had made a move, and he was too afraid to make one and face rejection.

You weren't sure how you felt about Steve, but you knew how you felt about Billy, and that feeling was becoming increasingly difficult to brush off.

“Coach still benching you for tomorrow's game?” you ask, changing the subject immediately. You regret it the moment you see the disappointment on Steve's face.

Basketball was his first love and ever since Billy got to town he’s slowly been losing the love he once held for the game.

He ran a hand through his messy head of hair and sighed.

“Yeah, thanks to your boy toy over there,” Steve says, glaring at the blonde who was a car away from Steve's. You wrap your arms around him as you two reach his burgundy BMW.

“You're a great player, Steve,” you state matter of factly, squeezing him a little tighter. “I think everything that's been going on—the Upside Down, us fighting interdimensional monsters, and almost dying—has taken a toll on you.” You reassure him and then let go to look into his eyes.

“It's normal to have a little setback; it's understandable. Plus, you've saved the world multiple times!” you said, slapping his chest lightly. “That beats being a starter on the stupid Hawkins High basketball team any day.”You finished, smiling at him.

Steve’s eyes softened at your words and smiled.

Christ, this is exactly why his feelings were a mess for you.

Steve brought you in for a tight hug because words couldn’t express how grateful he was for you.

From the next car down, Billy observed the two of you and couldn't shake the thought: had you and Harrington ever been a thing? The idea unsettled him because Billy Hargrove didn’t want to share you.

Steve dropped you off at home, as he usually did. He would usually stay for a bit and keep you company, but tonight he promised Dustin he’d take him to Mike’s for their D&D campaign.

You walked into the house, which was eerily quiet and empty, as it always was. Switching on the kitchen light, you noticed a note attached to the fridge.

Be back in the morning. Love you. -Dad

You sighed as a your traced your finger up down the note.

Your father traveled for work most of the time as a tech service representative for a variety of chemical companies. He'd often be gone for days, sometimes even weeks, so being alone was something you had grown accustomed to.

Your relationship with your father was also very complicated. You would even say it was nonexistent, given that he was always gone, and when he was around, he'd sleep the days away.

You pretended like it didn’t bother you but deep down it was something that made the cavity in your heart unbearable.

You weren't completely alone, though. Steve and you bonded over your shared loneliness, as both of his parents were also always away on business trips, calling only once a week, if he was lucky.

He'd often spend the night at your place, or you'd spend the night at his, rewatching ‘The Breakfast Club’ or ‘Sixteen Candles,’ his personal favorite, although he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

The bond between you two wasn't solely fueled by loneliness; fear played a significant role as well. It was the fear of that night—the night your friends almost died—that kept you together.

You felt goosebumps travel throughout your body at the thought of it. You instantly shook it off and decided to wash your feelings away with a warm, hot shower. You dreaded the night to come because of the insomnia you developed this past year of living in this small town. But thankfully, you had a couple of your favorite romance novels on deck to keep you occupied throughout the night.

You slipped into one of Eddie’s well-worn Metallica tees, its length reaching down to your knees. It was a keepsake from the day you and the gang had spent the night at his trailer, after an exciting evening of sneaking into the Hawkins community pool.

It was one of your favorite memories you’ve made in this shit town.

After slipping on the tee, you put on some black laced panties you pulled from you drawer.

You glanced over to your window, partially covered by your curtains, and wondered what the dirty blonde was up to. Curious, you walked over and took a peek, wondering where he was because he was usually out at this time, either smoking a cigarette or sitting in his car, or doing both at once.

Like clockwork, he slammed his front door, grabbing the red lighter he always kept in his back pocket and reaching it to the cigarette hanging out of his pink lips.

He cupped the cigarette out of habit and lit it, inhaling the silent killer.

He then hopped onto the hood of his car and reclined, still smoking the cigarette as he gazed at the starlit sky, lost in deep thought.

You wanted to join him, eager to learn more about the California boy, even if he didn't show interest in you. Something inside you just needed to know who Billy Hargrove was.

You also wanted to try to settle the intense feelings coursing through your body.

You stared at him for what felt like a lifetime, admiring his chiseled jawline, how his pretty blue eyes looked in the moonlight, and the rhythmic pattern of his inhaling and exhaling cigarette smoke.

Fuck you cigarette.

You envied his cigarettes.

You wanted to be inhaled and exhaled like that, and you didn’t even care if you were disregarded like them when he was done.

Billy felt your gaze through the window, and as he smirked, you couldn't help but notice. Despite being caught, you couldn't suppress a smile of your own.

Billy sat up and looked directly into your window. Your face grew flustered as you two made eye contact, but you held it, unable to look away.

You pushed yourself to do something you found so uncomfortable and you ignored the negative thoughts running through your head.

Billy tossed his cigarette to the ground and he was about to pick up a new one.

That being you.

You quickly threw on some discarded sweats from the floor and made your way to the front door. As you wrapped your hand around the doorknob, you hesitated for a minute. Nervousness gripped you, but you were determined to make things different this year. You wanted to push yourself beyond your comfort zone. No longer content with just fantasizing about romance, you wanted to live it, even if it meant risking a broken heart in the process. After all, at least you'd have a story to tell.

The cool night breeze kissed your face, sending shivers down your spine as you stepped out of your door. Closing it behind you, you were wrapped in darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of the streetlights. Your heart raced as you descended off the few steps of your front porch.

As you turned the corner, you were met with Billy Hargrove's infuriating smirk. It would've been irritating if you didn't harbor this crush for him. With determination, you walked in front of his car, mere inches away from where he sat. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

“Hi,” you spoke up slightly out of breath. Billy knew it was nervousness that caused you to sound that way.

You think back to the conversation you had earlier in the day.

“If you ever need help with anything, I’m only one house away.”

You wanted something. You knew what you wanted, and you knew what he meant by it, but you didn’t want to jump his bones immediately. You wanted to get to know him, and maybe that was foolish of you given his reputation, but you didn’t care.

“Hi, Y/N,” Billy greeted with a chuckle, his eyes roaming over your figure. He noticed your shirt and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“You listen to Metallica?” Billy questioned, his gaze shifting to Eddie's worn-out black tee. "Oh, this?" you said, grabbing onto the thin material of your shirt. “No, it's a friend's. He let me borrow it,” you partially explained, letting out a shaky laugh.

“Hmm, didn't peg Harrington for a metal kinda guy” Billy remarked, assumingely, lighting yet another cigarette.

"You think Steve's my only male friend?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You have more than one?" Billy questioned back, the movement of lighting his cigarette coming to a short pause, his eyes widening momentarily. Billy could take Harrington, but any other male suitors would be a problem for him.“Is that a problem, Hargrove?” you questioned, once again amused by his reaction. Was he jealous?

He laughed and took a drag from his cigarette. He looked so beautiful like this, the view from your window couldn’t compare to the view you had right now. Despite the chill outside, you felt a warmth spreading through you.

“Not that I can’t compete with Harrington and?” He asked waiting for you to provide the name of said friend.

Compete?

“Eddie,” you said filling in the blank for him. “Ah, Munson, the freak,” he chuckled, taking yet another drag from his cigarette.

“You do know you’re talking to right? You remark, raising an eyebrow at him hinting that you fell into the same category as Eddie.

“Never said I had a problem with ‘freaks’,” he said smiling, as he looked down at your lips before meeting your gaze. “If I’m being honest they’re my favorite types of people.” He added licking his lips.

You gulped as his intense gaze met yours. He was undeniably gorgeous. The ache between your legs begged for relief, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed, especially when he then said ,

“Come sit,” making space for you on the hood of his car. You obliged, sitting on the cool surface, crossing your legs, relieving some type of pressure. “You smoke?” he asked, handing you the lit cigarette. You took the cigarette, his warm fingers slightly touching your cold ones.

“Nope, but there's a first time for everything, right?” you smiled, taking a drag of the cigarette. The sensation immediately made you almost cough out a lung and you hadn’t even inhaled it completely. Billy laughed once again and slid his hand onto your back, lightly patting it attempting to ease your coughing fit.

You handed the cigarette back to him and laughed, the coughing fit dying down. “Yeah, first and last time doing that. God, that is nothing like weed,” you remarked.

Billy removed his hand from your back, and you couldn't help but groan slightly at the loss of touch. He looked at you with an amused smile. "I could only imagine how you reacted to hitting a joint for the first time," he said with a grin.

“Oh, trust me, it was nothing like that. I almost died just now,”you said as you wiped the tears that formed in your eyes from coughing.

You leaned back on his car like he did on countless nights and looked up at the starlit sky. Billy did the same after putting out his cigarette.

"The only good thing about this shit town is how pretty the sky looks at night," you said. He looked up at the sky and thought the same. There were so many stars, each one representing hope.

"And the rain," he added, which surprised you. “But you're from California, it’s all sun over there!” You exclaimed, giggling a bit.

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled at your excitement. “It hardly rains over there, but I loved it when it did,” he said, reminiscing about his life in California.

“I liked sitting in my car and listening to the rain; it brought me some sort of peace of mind out there. Especially here, it's stronger and louder, drowns out the thoughts,” he added, tapping his head in a playful manner.

You smiled at his explanation.

“It makes me feel like a kid again,” you added, your voice soft with nostalgia. "Running around, no jacket, laughing, feeling the water down your face and drenching your clothes. Sometimes I sit outside and look up at the sky, enjoying the way it feels on my face," you said, still smiling at the sky above.

Billy turned his head to look at you now, and you were oblivious to it for the first time. He felt his heart skip a beat at your explanation and the way you smiled at the sky full of stars. From that moment on, Billy was determined to know more about you.

You two continued talking, giggling, sneaking glances at each other, but it all came to a halt when you both heard a loud slam from the door of his house. A man in his mid-40s descended down the stairs of Billy’s front porch and made his way towards you both. Billy straightened up immediately at the sight of this man.

“It’s late,” the man spat, keeping his eyes on Billy, completely ignoring your presence. “Get inside; you need to take Maxine and yourself to school tomorrow.”

“Hi, sir,”you timidly intervened. “I'm Y/N. I live next door. I'm sorry for keeping Billy out so late. We were just talking about class, and I lost track of time.” You finished

Billy looked at you in shock as if you said something out of turn.

He looked you up and down with a deadpanned look before giving you a tight-lipped smile and nodded. Then, he gave Billy a warning glance before leaving. Odd. You thought.

You noticed the shift in Billy’s demeanor he was noticeably uncomfortable and even seemed scared. Billy took a deep breath after his father left and ran a hand over his face, visibly tense.

“You okay?” You carefully asked not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Yeah, I will be,”he exhaled, mustering up a small smile. “Thank you for tonight. I'll see you around, Y/N.” With that, he left. You waited until he made it inside and you returned home yourself.

As you stepped into the house, the loneliness of it consumed you once again. But you disregarded it, shaking it off, because a bigger part of you felt content and happy.

Billy grew accustomed to loneliness; sometimes, he even preferred it. But when he saw how present his friends' parents were in their lives, the loneliness spread and often consumed him. His mother was gone, her whereabouts unknown, leaving him abandoned and stuck with his monstrous father. He had the shell of a parental figure, but in reality, his father was a bully, a coward. This left Billy feeling trapped and hopeless, like a prisoner in his own home, with no one to relate to, no one to vent to, nothing.

When Billy made it inside his house he had already prepared himself for the worst. His father was seated on the sofa waiting for him to come in.

“I'm sorry, sir, I lost track of—“ Neil raised his hand to stop him from explaining, and like a trained soldier, Billy shut his mouth immediately. Neil stood up, making his way towards him. Billy flinched as Neil raised his hand, and to Billy’s surprise, he patted his shoulder. Billy furrowed his brows in confusion; he hated his father's touch. “Nice girl,” Neil remarked before walking past him and heading to his room.

What the fuck?

Anger coursed through Billy’s veins, his heart beating furiously in his chest. Why you? What the hell was so special about you that had Neil Hargrove's fatherly approval? Billy scoffed. He didn’t care if he'd get beatings for what he had planned or about your feelings at the moment, but he was going to royally piss his father off. Fuck his approval. He didn’t want it nor did he care for or it.

Billy disregarded his strong feelings for you and decided to be the dick he knew himself to be.

Tags:

#eddie munson #stranger things #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #nancy wheeler #billy hargrove smut #steve x billy #billyhargroveseries #Steve x female reader #billy hargrove x female reader

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billlydear · 2 years ago

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SUPERNOVA - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 3135 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: max's english tutor has a black eye and a shitty alibi. billy sees right through it.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, mentions of abuse, injuries mentioned (black eye), reader is abused by her mother just like billy is by his father

A/N: thank you for 300 followers!!! have this as a little gift from me to you <3 basic biology part three is in the works, don't worry! i just wrote this in a fit of sleep deprived passion the other night after thinking about it for a week or so and i wanted to share :) i hope you enjoy! the ending of this is pretty straightforward and, though i plan to write more parts, this can be read on its own for now.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

There’s never a good reason for Max to stomp into Billy’s room. It’s always either her demanding a ride somewhere, asking for money, or shouting at him to turn his music down. This time, though, there’s no music playing, and it’s nearing 11:00 PM, so he’s not sure why she’d need money or a ride.

He glances up at her, really more of a glare, through his eyelashes, reclined against the wall as he lounges on his bed. He’s got a magazine in hand and the pages are as boring as the cover was, but he’d rather stare at faded jet ski advertisements than read the book he’s supposed to be working on for English.

She stops just inside the doorway, jacket on and shoes laced. He narrows his eyes at her, something of a question, and she sounds just as venomous as he looks when she replies.

“I need to borrow your window.” She mutters, piercing eyes set on him.

He’s heard her say a lot of weird things since they started living together. Mom, I can’t find my left rollerskate, Why is my bra in the freezer?, and We’re not going in the theater, we’re going to sit outside and talk, have previously topped the list but this is off the charts.

“Sure, Max,” He drawls, fingers tightening against the waxy magazine paper, “Just haul it back in here when you’re done, okay?”

“You know what I mean,” She huffs, already lunging for his bed. She practically topples him in her overzealous attempt to reach the window, and he shoots a hand out to steady himself as the mattress rocks. He has half a mind to kick her onto the floor but he watches her click a flashlight open from her jacket pocket, and stares with suspicious intrigue instead.

“Come on, come on,” She huffs, clicking the light on, off, on, off, “Where is she?”

“Who?” Billy leans forwards, peering out the window into the blackened neighborhood, “Jesus, Max, don’t go shining lights into people’s windows at night, they’ll think you’re some creep trying to watch them change.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you know that from experience,” She grumbles, shoving his hand away when he tries grabbing the light.

“I’m not kidding,” Billy seethes, muscled arm coming to combat her defenses, nearly shoving her off of the end of the bed, “What are you even trying to do, anyways?”

“I’m trying to talk to my tutor,” She snaps, landing a sharp slap to his thigh that reddens the skin there, “Butt out, butthead.”

“Assface,” Billy grumbles, rubbing at the tender spot on his leg with half a mind to whack her upside the head. She ignores him completely, desperately flicking the light at a ground floor window.

“Do you really need tutoring help now?” Billy groans, the incessant clicking preventing him from what was supposed to be his before-bed relaxation.

“She wasn’t at school today,” Max explains in a huff, “Or- like, she didn’t show up at my school. She called this morning to say she was sick, but she sounded fine, and I heard someone in the parking lot say that they saw her outside her house, just sitting there, like, really late last night.”

“So she was getting some fresh air,” Billy deadpans, “Now get out of my room.”

“Would it kill you to cooperate?” Max turns to him with such a judgemental stare that Billy’s surprised he doesn’t wither away right on the spot. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl scorned, he thinks, annoyance bubbling in his chest.

“She’s obviously not coming,” Billy reasons, his patience wearing thin after almost two minutes of flashlight nonsense, “She’s probably sleeping. She’s got the flu or something, and you’re gonna wake her up and make her even more sick. Just leave her alone, and leave me alone.”

“I’m not asking you to be a part of this!” She gushes, jaw set in a hard frown and eyes rolling when he props his elbow up on the windowsill, cheek smushed into a bored expression against his palm.

“I just want to see if she’s okay, because she doesn’t normally get sick, and I haven’t seen her window open all day, and I really think that something might be wrong, so-”

After a staggering two minutes and forty-six seconds of morse code from hell, your curtains part. Max practically lights up at the sliver of light that appears between the drapes, but when your face pops between it, her breath hitches in a gasp.

Your eye is bruised. It’s swollen shut and purple, an ugly stain that blooms down your cheek, like a rose that sticks its thorns straight into Billy’s chest. His posture, previously saggy and bored, stiffens until he’s nearly pressed against the glass, brows furrowed in horror as his lips part ever-so-slightly.

“Oh my god,” Max breathes, and you regard them both with a weary gaze.

Max lifts the lower half of Billy’s window, slipping out the gap with such agility and speed that Billy doesn’t have a chance to try to stop her before she’s already outside. He rushes to follow her, cringing as his bare feet land in damp piles of leaves.

“What happened to you?” Max runs to your window, bracing her hands on the sill.

“Nothing,” You try to smile, and it pulls at the skin around your eye, finishing the expression off with a wince, “I just- it’s silly, okay? I slipped and fell on the ice out front and I hit the stair rail on the way down. I was too embarrassed to go to school, ‘cause I knew everyone would ask, so I just called out sick. I’m sorry, Max, I know today was our day, but I’ll do double time once this heals.”

The more you ramble, the quicker you spew your pre-determined speech, the more the thorns lodge themselves in Billy’s gut. It’s familiar behavior, having an outlandish excuse at your disposal, reciting it like poetry, blaming the bruises on a misstep down the stairs rather than a rage-fueled fist. He’s done the same to countless teachers, all staring down at him with a condescending sneer, assuming he’d instigated another fight.

Max might not be well acquainted with different types of bruises - and god he hopes she never has to be - but Billy certainly is. And your black eye is not from a stair railing, he knows that. It looks the same as his does whenever Neil decides he’s in a fighting mood, and it doesn’t seem like you have the frozen peas that Billy usually medicates his marks with.

“It’s okay!” Max promises, and thankfully she commands enough of your attention to where you don’t notice Billy’s grief-stricken stare, looking for all the world like he’d been punched in the gut.

‘It’s okay, we can just meet up some other time. Or- or I can come over to your house! So you don’t have to show your face anywhere. And I won’t tell,” She insists, hands dug snugly into the pockets of her jacket, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

So are you, Billy notes, just not to the people with the same ones.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You frown slightly, biting the inside of your cheek, “This really hurts, and it’s kind of giving me a headache, so… might be best to just meet when it’s healed.”

“That’s fine,” Max nods, reaching up and through the window to sling her arms around your neck in a rushed hug, “Just- call me when it’s better, okay? My teacher set us this new essay, and it’s got some stupidly complicated prompt, so I need your help figuring out-”

Billy watches as your head ticks up, eyes widening slightly as you tune into the sounds of your house. He knows the look all too well, you’ve heard someone coming.

“That’s great Max,” You stammer, reaching for the window pane to close it, "I’ve gotta go!”

“-how to… write it.” She finishes, face wrinkling in confusion when you slam the window shut, yanking the curtains closed, “Feel better…”

“Go,” Billy jumps to action, hearing a raised voice from within your room, not your own, “Max, move!”

He pushes her along the side of their house, shoving her around the back until they’re out of the line of sight from your window. He peers around the corner from behind an overgrown trellis, one that lets him see you without you seeing him. He waits with bated breath, ignoring Max’s indignant protests and slamming a hand over her mouth.

She licks his palm, but he manages to stay calm and keep it there. He will smear it on her cheek later, though.

Sure enough, Billy watches your curtains fly open. There’s a woman in the window now, and you’re standing behind her, expression unreadable. Then you speak, and Billy can’t hear it. Your voice must be soft, gentle, calming. The woman barrely reacts, eyes scanning wildly for whoever you’d been talking to. But Billy keeps Max quiet, pinching her hard when she tries escaping his grip.

Billy watches the woman in your window with a hatred he’s only ever felt towards Neil. She acts the same, menacing glares and a puffed-up chest. You react just as he does, a personified tension-diffuser as you shrink in on yourself and give steady, slow answers. She’s shouting, you’re mumbling. She’s advancing, you’re backing away. She’s grabbing your wrist, forcing you close to her, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut.

Billy’s stomach churns; he can’t watch this any longer.

He herds Max to the other side of the house, keeps her restrained with one hand and pries at her window with the other. It opens smooth and easy, no squeaking that would alert their parents to their escapade.

Once they’re both inside, she flips.

“You asshole,” She huffs, “You manhandled me! You really couldn’t just let me have one nice conversation with my friend? You had to yank me away like some psychopath?”

“She wasn’t going to come back,” Billy murmurs, a glint in his eyes urging her to lower her own voice, “And she didn’t fall down the stairs. Go to sleep, Max.”

He feels a pillow hit him in the back as he strides out of her room, and each step down the hallway towards his own feels like he’s numbing from the inside out. The role reversal of his own life had been so mind-shattering, watching a scene from his household happen in real time in front of him instead of a torturous memory in his nightmares.

By the time he reaches his room, his fingers are too numb to shut the door. He kicks it closed instead, staring out of the still-opened window to watch your own. The curtains are drawn again, shutting you off from the world.

He stands there staring for what feels like seconds, but is probably minutes with the way his brain is warping his thoughts. Abuse felt so lonely, it was a soundproof room with padded walls, but they stung like hot coals when his dad came stomping in to shove him up against them. His family, his safe space, his padded room, came with the irony of only existing alongside pain, fear, and anxiety. And knowing there was an identical room beside his for god knows how long, thick layers of insulation drowning out each of your cries and blocking out each other’s existence, makes him sick.

His eye stings with the residual image of your own, a feeling he knows all too well. His hand, on instinct, tingles with a cold sort of sensation, the same that he got from grabbing the ice-covered peas out of the freezer.

He’s off to the kitchen in a hurry, feet padding carefully across the floor so as not to alert anyone of his presence. The biggest challenge is opening the freezer door quietly, but he’s a pro at it by now. He takes the peas back to his room, but this time he doesn’t curl up in his bed with them pressed to his eye, he clutches them tightly and heads for the window.

Max’s flashlight is discarded on the sill, and he wraps it in his free fist. He clicks it on cautiously, testing the sound to see how it echoes in the empty space between your house and his. It’s not obnoxiously loud, hopefully no one can hear it.

He flashes it against your window, only for a second, then ducks beneath the sill. He waits, expecting an explosion of sound as your mother reaches out to grab him. But nothing happens, so he straightens up to his full height. The wind nips at his bare arms, goosebumps erupting over the skin not covered by his muscle tank. He waves the flashlight once more at your window, covering it with his thumb to flash it instead of clicking the button rapidly.

He hears shuffling from inside, then silence. Then shuffling again, a little closer, and silence. Then more shuffling, and the routine continues until he hears your fingers scrape at the window pane.

You duck under the curtains this time, easier to slip back inside and shut the window instead of drawing the curtains, “Max, I can’t-”

Billy doesn’t know what to say when your eye catches him. He blinks, once, twice, three times, watching as your anxious eyes rove over him. Only then does he register the chill in his hand, the peas.

“Here,” He murmurs, voice soft and slightly raspy, as he holds the package out to you, “Ten minutes, then turn the package around, then ten more minutes. And if it’s still icy, do it over again.”

You take the peas because you have to, because he’s pressing the cold package into your hand. Your fingers wrap around it and you peer curiously at the image on the front, only glancing back up at him when he shifts in his stance, leaves crushed beneath his feet.

“The package rustles,” He warns you, “Be careful. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t,” You finally murmur, breaking your stunned silence, “I- Uh, thank you. It’s.. Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding once. He’s half aware that his curls aren’t exactly perfect like they typically are, because nodding sends one of them tumbling into his eyesight over his forehead, “That’s me.”

“Y/N,” You mumble, and this time even Billy hears the heavy footfalls in your hallway. They set you on edge again, and he yanks his fingers back from the windowsill so that you can snap it shut, “I gotta go.”

“Bye,” He whispers, voice lost to the night as he stands outside your window. He ducks beneath the sill again, where your mom can’t see him if she decides to search the premises. He doesn’t hear anything from your room, though, and he takes it as a good sign when the footsteps retreat. Then he hears the soft crunch of the package of peas, muffled beneath what he assumes is your blanket as bed springs creak from within.

His eyes snap shut at the sound, envisioning you curled up beneath your comforter, hugging the bag of peas to your bruise. It’s a position that feels so natural to him he almost replicates it, back slumped against the siding of your house. The rustling stops; you got yourself settled.

Only then does he move, climbing back through his window and shutting it for the night. He can’t sleep, though, eyes drifting towards your window from his seat on his bed. He watches, he waits, he stares until his eyes sting, every second that passes a blessing for the lack of commotion it causes. When he does fall asleep it’s after the upstairs lights of your house have shut off, because only then is it over, only then is it safe. He sleeps in solidarity with you, knowing that the click of the lightswitch puts you at ease just like it does him; if there's someone else awake, it’s not safe to sleep. He’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a stiff neck from sleeping up against the wall, but his eyes will flutter open and the first thing he’ll see is your window, hopefully open to showcase peace inside.

Never in his life has he felt connected to someone his age. That’s what abuse does, that’s what Neil does. He isolates Billy, keeping him under his thumb so the boy can’t escape his clutches. But now there’s a glimmer of hope right next door. Hope, he supposes, isn’t the right word. A muddy black eye isn’t hopeful. It is, though, when it’s matching his own, when your scars and bruises line up with each other’s to map out constellations of torture. He wants to chart them, find out where the patterns are, spit out the stories behind them.

He’s spent enough time stargazing his own past, picking a new ball of fire each night to examine. To pick apart, to wish he’d have acted differently in, to regret. Now there’s a whole other sky mere feet away from him, and he yearns to chart it, to explore its patterns in the desperate hope of finding companionship. Oh, that cluster? A missed curfew. That bright one? Backtalk.

He’s always felt like a potential supernova. Like one day, all of the hurt, rage, and despair inside of him is going to burst forth in an explosion of color, blood and guts paired with anguish and heartache.

And now, knowing there’s another ticking time bomb beside him, two panes of glass separating the two dying stars, he has hope. Maybe it’s morbid, to want to explode in tandem. To seek connection in even destruction. All Billy knows is that if he can’t get out, he’ll die.

He thinks about it for a moment; getting out. Shooting across the galaxy, hurtling over the inky black sky until the swirling black hole that is Neil Hargrove can’t suck him in anymore. Landing somewhere where he burns bright without the threat of explosion.

And for the first time since that vision began, he sees two stars. One yours and one his, twin flames, both rocketing towards a safe corner of the universe, one where no one else can dim your glow.

Billy knows right then and there, he has to get to know you. He’s never tried making real friends, never wants to get close enough to have to reveal that Daddy hits him and Mommy - New Mommy - doesn’t care. But you’re the same as him, a dimming star puttering along with the desperate hope of migrating instead of exploding. And if you can feed off of each other’s light, merge into one, he knows you’ll be strong enough to escape together, to go out without a bang.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader fanfiction #billy hargrove x fem!reader

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weirdbrothers · 9 months ago

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Stranger Things Fic Rec

Let me get one thing out of the way: absolutely nobody asked for this. But I love these pairings and stories so much I had to share it with you all. This is heavy on Steve/Billy with some Steve/Eddie sprinkled in.

If you've never read Stranger Things fic, or when you saw this post thought "oh yeah, that 80s kid monster show" I encourage you to give these a try! You don't have to know much about the show besides the bare bones of the plot. (And my ask box is always open for Qs!) If you like angsty teenage boys who are in denial about their feelings and hate their hometown, read on.

Now, on to the porn and depravity!

if i stare too long by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | Steve/Eddie/Billy

After the end of the world, Billy Hargrove is a mess. But at least he has company.

Notes: Literally one of my favorite fics of all time, I will never shut up about it. Gay threesomes. Angst. A sweltering midwestern summer. Homoerotic undertones that builds to filthy gay porn. The vibes are all there.

Pressure by Yellow_Blue_Books | Steve/Eddie

"You never did tell me your name," he called at Munson's back. The older man was already in the trees when he turned back around and stated his name, eyes bright and grin wide. Steve never heard it; he couldn't read his lips from so far a distance between them. So instead, he watched Munson walk away; the teen, now wide awake, went to sit on the hood of his car to wait for Hopper to show. On that crisp, cold January night in 1985 - Steve Harrington heard the sound of Eddie Munson's voice for the first and last time. He never even knew his name.

Notes: The only WIP on this rec list, and totally worth the wait. Great characterization. So many little tidbits of information that have me squealing with joy. But also dark and grounded in reality.

chokechain by @brawlite | Steve/Billy (and Tommy is there)

Tommy H. invites Billy to a party at Steve's house. Billy expected hot chicks and booze, but when he shows up, there's only the latter. Steve and Tommy teach Billy that in Hawkins, sometimes you just gotta make do.

Notes: When I think of this fic I literally start sweating its so sexy. The fic that got me hooked on Steve/Billy and gay Steve in general. Its so subtle and gritty and grimy and hot. And Tommy is egging everyone on, yet oblivious, just how I like him.

so good at being in trouble, so bad at being in love by @the-copperkid Steve/Billy

Steve's sophomore year, Billy showed up.

Notes: A fandom classic. The perfect example of Steve/Billy getting together in world, and dealing with their feelings (+ porn, because I'm me and I need porn in all my fic).

We'll Go Down in History by @eternalgoldfish | Billy/Steve

Hawkins High takes a field trip to Baltimore to see historical sites and Steve would rather jump out his hotel window.

Notes: So much teenage angst and tomfoolery in this one! A little more lighthearted than others on the list. Gets to that theme in ST that I love: the idle hands of teenage boys are the devil's playthings.

Dom 4 Hire by @lazybakerart

Steve is naked, on his hands and knees, in the apartment he shares with his high school sweetheart for a man he only just met in person five minutes ago.

Notes: From the second I saw Steve Harrington on screen I knew that boy was a sub dying for someone to call him a good boy. And Billy is just the dom for the job. My only complaint is that I wish this was longer!

Maybe we're something uncool by desert_dino | Steve/Billy

It’s only noon; Billy knows neither of them have work that evening, and their shitty gen-ed biology lab was cancelled. They’ve only been hanging out for an hour, and maybe Billy isn’t quite done fucking around with Harrington yet. Maybe he’ll indulge him.

Notes: Cocky Billy is what the world needs! Great banter and dialogue. Just a snapshot of what I imagine their afternoons would look like, and the teens of Hawkins would be like "why the fuck are they always hanging out?" totally oblivious.

slipping through by sightetsound | Steve/Billy

It was the weed, and the pilfered whiskey from Steve’s daddy dearest they passed back and forth. It was actually how Steve’s eyes caught the moonlight. How his mouth moved when he spoke, and how it curved on a grin Billy would call relaxed when they were alone. Admitting as much felt too much like giving ground, and so it was the weed and whiskey.

Notes: Really bittersweet, heartfelt, and sincere. A different kind of pace for this pairing.

You Get Too Close by @trashcangimmick | Steve/Billy

Steve sits at the back of the bus on the way to a basketball match in Gary. Billy Hargrove sits right across from him.

Notes: Be for real- when we saw that basketball and shower scene we were all hoping it would go in the direction of this fic. Gives me the vibe of an 80s porno in the best way.

Reflecting on the Longest Wavelength by @trashcangimmick | Billy/Hopper

Billy’s heat hits early. Jim Hopper happens to find him before anyone else does.

Notes: This pairing is a little rouge, I don't see it often and its hard to pin down for me past all the basic tropes. I really like the A/B/O world-building here and find myself returning to it.

#stranger things #stranger things fic rec #harringrove #steddie #fic rec

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ihni · 1 month ago

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Miracles

For @metalsandwichbingo, square B3, prompt: "Religious imagery". 3,6K, no major warnings.

Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

(Additional tags: mentioned religion, mentioned temporary character death, guilt, hospitals, polyamory mention)

Summary:

Eddie's not a religious person. But then Billy comes back from the dead.

(On AO3 here)

Eddie has never been a religious person, despite all the religious texts he consumed when he was younger. No one in town would believe it with the reputation he has nowadays, but he has actually read the Bible – twice. He supposes that it’s because he has always been thirsty for information. Unfortunately, not the kind of information that they would spoon-feed him back in school, but rather anything and everything that would tickle his imagination. Not math, not grammar, not boring history or biology or physics. But the interesting things? The things that he could use as an inspiration for music, for art, for his campaigns? He would devour it. And that included religion – and not only Christianity either – because religious text were shock full of interesting stories and people and gods and metaphors and colorful imagery.

But while he had read about it, and frequently used it in his work, he never found himself believing in any of it. Because it seemed insane to him that people actually believed that God and the devil and angels and demons and saints were real. Only sad and lost people needed to put their faith in something larger than life, and Eddie would pity them if he didn’t detest them so much. He believed in what he could see and touch and smoke, thank you very much.

Then again, up until recently he hadn’t really believed in monsters either. And now he bears the scars on his own body that proves that monsters are, in fact, very real. And if monsters exist, perhaps all those other things do, too? Maybe the Bible had some truths in it, after all?

That is – insanely – his first thought when Billy (his Billy) comes back from the dead, because people just don’t do that. They don’t die and then come back alive. (Eddie should know. His mom sure never rose from the grave, no matter how much little Eddie prayed under his blanket at night before he decided that religion was only bedtime stories for adults who needed something to cling onto.)

The thing is, that while Eddie believes in what he can see, he never actually saw Billy die. He wasn’t there for it. But he did see his body.

He wasn’t supposed to, of course – but when has that ever stopped him? He’d been a little high at the time and overcome with a mixture of grief and disbelief, as well as a healthy refusal to believe that Billy – his Billy – was really gone until he saw it for himself, and so he had broken into the funeral home the night before the funeral. He’d found Billy in his coffin – just a simple wooden box, painted white – and it had been such a surreal experience to see him so pale and still and unmoving. Because Eddie had never known Billy to be so unnaturally still; even when he wasn’t moving, he had a kind of energy buzzing underneath his skin, and even when he slept, he twitched and sighed and scrunched his nose up in the cutest way. Eddie knew all these things intimately, because he had loved watching Billy when he slept, for those blessed months between April and July when they’d … ‘hooked up’ might be the go-to term, but yet it didn’t describe the depths of what Eddie had been feeling. They hadn’t really been dating, with the flowers and the chocolate and the actual dates – because this was Hawkins and Billy’s dad was a threat and generally a violent shitstain of a person – but it had been more than just sex, too. They’d listened to music together and smoked and talked until the early hours of the morning whenever Billy stayed the night. They’d watched movies and eaten bad takeout food and kept a list of the best pizza combinations Hawkins had to offer. Sure, they’d had sex (glorious and mind-blowingly good sex if you asked Eddie) but they’d also driven around Hawkins at night and talked about books and held hands in comfortable silence under the stars. Billy had spent hours on Eddie’s bed, listening to Eddie ramble on about his campaigns, and Eddie had made a point of making sure that Billy ate something, no matter what time he showed up at the trailer, or what shape he was in.

Point was, the two of them had been something, something more than fuckbuddies, so when Eddie heard about the tragedy at Starcourt, he refused to believe it at first. He had to see him. If only to be able to wrap his head around the fact that he was gone.

He had expected … worse. The mall had burnt down, after all, so he had half-expected only unidentifiable charred remains to be in the coffin. Instead he was met with Billy. Eyes closed, skin cold and pale. Could have been asleep, if it wasn’t for the way he was too still to look real. He looked … empty. Like a shell. Like whatever had made up Billy simply wasn’t there anymore.

Eddie had looked at him for a long time, without feeling much of anything. This was undeniably Billy’s body, but it wasn’t his Billy. Not anymore. So he left, feeling oddly off-kilter.

The day after he’d attended the funeral without really understanding what the priest said, and that night he had proceeded to get spectacularly drunk and had woken up at noon the following day with a raspy throat, tear-swollen eyes, the worst headache of his life and no memory of anything past the halfway point of the stolen bottle of gin.

He wished the gin could have taken the memory of Billy’s unmoving body in that coffin, too, but unfortunately that particular image seemed to be burned into his brain forever.

Unexpectedly, he wasn’t alone in being haunted by an image of a dead Billy Hargrove every time he closed his eyes. Even more unexpectedly, the other person with that particular problem was someone he would have never thought he’d willingly hang out with, or would willingly hang out with him. But Steve Harrington proved to be different than Eddie expected, in almost every way. Eddie found that out when he bumped into the guy at the quarry a week after Billy’s funeral, and they started talking.

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Eddie found that Steve was not just a dumb jock, which he had previously assumed. That he cared a lot about his dwindling number of friends (which included a bunch of loudmouth kids), and perhaps more importantly; that he was a real person underneath that shiny surface, with real feelings and problems just like everyone else. Eddie also learned – and here’s where things got interesting – that Steve had been at the mall the night of the fire. That he had, in fact, been right there when Billy died. He wouldn’t go into details – not even after he and Eddie grew closer; first as friends and then eventually as more than friends – but he let a few things slip. Eddie knew that Steve was frequently having nightmares and that many of them had something to do with the night that Billy died.

It didn’t make much sense, at the time. Because why would Steve be having nightmares after the days when they’d talked about Billy, and wake up screaming as if scared out of his mind? Why would he wake up in a cold sweat mumbling Billy’s name, and why did he sometimes cry and ask for forgiveness in his sleep? He and Billy hadn’t been that close, from what Eddie had heard. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He and Steve were way past the friends-stage at this point, so Eddie finally asked him about it – but Steve just shook his head. Scrunched his eyes shut and looked almost pained when he said he couldn’t tell him. Eddie was curious by nature and he wanted to know, of course he did, but he cared a lot for Steve and he didn’t want to poke at that particular bruise since it was so obvious that Steve didn’t want to talk about it yet.

And then suddenly one day, he got his explanation and learned why Steve hadn’t been able to talk about it. Thrown into the mess, he quickly found out about the monsters and about the dark version of Hawkins that existed just a dimension away, and everything that had happened before fell into place with some broken explanations as they hurriedly brought him up to speed on human experiments and monster dogs and children with superpowers. He freaked out of course, but there was no time for his questions as he was pulled into a plot to save the town – and, in extension, the world. It was a whirlwind of fear, fighting and adrenaline. When it was all over, they’d succeeded in besting the monsters and close the gate to the other side – hopefully forever this time – but Eddie wasn’t around to celebrate with the rest of them, because he was in a super-secret hospital, recovering after being chewed on by a pack of monster bats.

The thing is, though, that he wasn’t the only patient there.

He finds out about Billy being alive from Steve, the first time he comes to visit. His boyfriend bursts into the room with wide eyes and shaking hands, looking like he’s seen a ghost, but it isn’t until he’s made sure Eddie is alive and whole – well, mostly whole at least – that he collapses into a chair and drops the bomb.

Billy is alive.

Despite apparently having been skewered through by a huge monster made out of melted people and bleeding out on the floor of Starcourt mall, he is somehow alive. After having sacrificed himself and fought said monster with his bare hands to save a kid he barely knew, perhaps saving all of them in the process. And all that, after having been possessed by some kind of interdimensional parasite who used his body as a puppet to lure others do their deaths.

Eddie is not a religious person, but as Steve haltingly tells him all of this, he can’t help drawing parallels to the stories he has read. Jesus on the cross, willingly sacrificing himself for the sins of others, and also the history of the sacrificial lamb, willingly given up by others. He wonders which is more apt – and then he wonders which is worse.

When Steve gets to the point in the story where Billy died apologizing, they are both crying. Eddie because … well, he loved Billy, and then he lost him, and now he’s back but he’s been through so much, and Steve because –

Eddie’s actually not entirely sure why Steve is crying.

It takes some prodding, but it turns out that Steve had one hell of a night himself, the night at the mall. He’d been running from Russians who tortured and drugged him (which, yeah, Eddie’s going to need to come back to that particular trauma), and had personally witnessed Billy’s ultimate sacrifice, while being shot up with a cocktail of drugs that made sure it etched its way into his brain in full technicolor. And he’s been dealing with a truckload of guilt since then.

Because apparently, sometime in the spring, Billy had tried apologizing for the fight they had – the fight that the whole school knew about – but Steve had refused to hear him out. It was only after Billy died (died protecting them, died sacrificing himself, died not knowing what was happening to him because no one had told him anything) that he even learned what Billy dealt with at home on a daily basis, and got some nuance as to what happened the night of their fight. Steve has been living with his regret ever since, which only got worse when he found out that Billy and Eddie had been a thing – because Eddie never kept his previous relationship a secret – and Eddie unthinkingly started telling him all about Billy’s softer sides.

“He said he was sorry, but I didn’t wanna listen. I should have listened to him,” Steve mumbles, leaning his head against Eddie’s shoulder. “Hell, I should have told him about everything the night of the fight.” A pause, then, “Fuck, Eds, I should have forgiven him.”

Eddie can do nothing but pet his hair in silence, because there is no use thinking of what they should have done and what could have been. What happened, happened, and to his knowledge it isn’t possible to change the past. It is, however, possible to change the future – and it’s not often that one gets a second chance with someone who has died, and Eddie says as much.

Steve looks up at him with teary eyes and looks so hopeful that Eddie aches with it as he says, in an effort to soothe, “It’s not too late, Stevie.”

It takes some time before Steve gets his chance, though, because Billy is in a medically-induced coma. It turns out that getting taken over by an interdimensional monster and then surviving for more than a year in a toxic alternate dimension takes a toll on a human. Eddie doesn’t have all the facts, because the goddamn doctors won’t tell him shit, but the transition back to the real world had been difficult on Billy’s body, and he is now kept under, with a drip in his arm to help his system adapt to the right kind of nutrients, and a mask over his mouth and nose which is to help him get used to the cleaner air here in the real world.

The first time Eddie sees him – when a tall male nurse wheels him into his room in a wheelchair after half a day of outright begging – he can barely believe what he’s seeing. Billy, right there. He looks like he’s been through hell – with his hair longer than before and sunken cheeks and ashy skin – but he is alive. Eddie remembers the way his body (or whatever it was that they buried; huh, they should look into that actually) had looked in the coffin, and even though Billy now looks like shit, he is there. Whatever had been missing in the body in the funeral home – his soul or whatever, if you wanted to get spiritual – is no longer missing. It is right here, in this broken body.

Billy is back.

As previously (and often) stated, Eddie has never been a religious person. Despite this, he spends hours next to Billy’s bedside that day, holding his hand and silently thanking God, Lucifer, Allah, Mohammed, Buddha, Odin, Zagreus and every other deity he can remember for this miracle.

(Just to be on the safe side. Monsters are real, after all – maybe the gods are, too.)

Neither Eddie nor Steve – or Max, for that matter – are allowed in the room when they bring Billy out of his coma, but it’s not for a lack of trying (or nagging). Someone comes into Eddie’s room after, though, to let them know that it worked and that they will be allowed to see him in the morning.

Steve doesn’t go home that evening, but instead spends the night in Eddie’s room. Mindful of Eddie’s injuries, he curls up next to him in the hospital bed. But instead of sleeping, they talk. In low voices and hesitant murmurs, they talk about what this means; what it might mean for them that Billy is back.

It’s easy enough for Eddie: Eddie is over the moon that Billy is back, because he loved him and he was a mess after he lost him. Eddie also loves Steve. He has enough love in him for more than one person; it’s not like he’s going to run out.

Steve, in turn, says that he loves Eddie, which Eddie kind of knew but enjoys hearing nonetheless. When it comes to Steve’s thoughts of Billy, though, that’s where things get … complicated.

They spend the night holding each other close, quietly talking and reassuring each other. Despite everything, Eddie can’t do anything but be hopeful. Because a complicated situation where everyone is alive beats an easy situation with one of them dead, every time.

In the morning, they get to visit Billy. In order not to overwhelm him, they decide to go in separately. Eddie goes first.

Seeing Billy blink his eyes open does something to Eddie’s heart. The world is blurry all of a sudden and he finds himself letting out a laugh that sounds more like a sob, and when Billy’s raspy voice croaks out “Eddie?”, he can’t help himself; he wheels his way over to Billy’s bed and leans his head on Billy’s arm and cries and cries and cries.

Distantly, he feels Billy’s hand fumble to pat at his hair, but if there are any words said, he cannot hear them over the way one single thought is blaring through his brain in beat with his pulse.

Alive alive alive alive alive

Eddie has never been a religious person, but suddenly he can understand all those people who fell to their knees to worship at the feet of a resurrected Jesus. It is the miracle of miracles. Because death is definite, and it should not be possible to come back from it; yet here Billy is.

Impossibly, undeniably alive.

He cries until he’s all out of tears and his sides are aching from the power of his sobs, and by then Billy has fallen back asleep, too drained to stay awake for more than a couple of minutes at a time. His hand still rests on Eddie’s head, like a blessing.

Over the next couple of days, Billy manages to stay awake for longer periods of time. Eddie visits him again and they actually talk a little that time, and Max comes to visit along with El and Chief Hopper. Steve goes in alone one day and stays there for a long time, and when he comes out his eyes are shiny but there’s something lighter about the way he moves. He hugs Eddie long and hard, and Eddie has to ask, so he does:

“How did it go?”

“I apologized,” Steve says, voice trembling. He offers a shaky smile when he adds, “So did he.”

And that’s that.

Only, it’s not. Not really. Because while Billy may be back, he is different. Not counting the obvious – the physical changes after being possessed and dying and spending a year starving in the Upside Down – he is … quieter. Seems to hesitate before speaking, more often than not. Eddie can’t pin down the reason why it bothers him so much.

Is he bitter because no one told him about what was happening? Is he angry because no one came looking for him? Is he sad about his father leaving town without seeing him – or is he sad about the same? Is he simply unused to speaking, after having spent the better part of a year on his own?

Turns out, it is none of those things.

“I miss you,” he says in a small voice one day, when it is just him and Eddie in the room.

Eddie looks up, but Billy is looking down at his hands, not meeting his eyes.

“I’m right here?” It isn’t supposed to be a question.

Billy takes a breath, as if steeling himself. “I know you’re with … Harrington, now.” A little laugh, that doesn’t sound all that happy. “I get it. You know, I used to have the biggest crush on him when I got to town.”

“I know,” Eddie says, strangely calm. “You told me.”

“Mm.”

After a while, Eddie feels the need to say, “I do love him.”

“I know,” Billy says, voice small.

Eddie adds, “I still love you, too, you know.” It’s the first time he says it to Billy. They never got that far back in the spring.

There is silence for a long while. Then, “How can you?” And his voice is full of self-loathing and pain, and his face reflects that in the grimace he makes before he can school his features back to something neutral.

Eddie could have listed reasons until his voice grew hoarse, because he’s got all of them in his head ready to go and he’s good at talking and he’s goddamn excellent with lists, but despite that, his answer is a shrug and a simple “I just do.” Because some things just are.

And Billy looks at him with wide eyes that are so, so blue, and Eddie is so grateful that he gets to get lost in them once more.

It’s not a big thing, that changes. It is not a small thing, either; but rather a trickle of tiny things, one after the other, day out and day in. Eddie visits Billy daily as they both heal up. Steve visits Eddie almost every day, and they go together to visit Billy. Talking gets easier, the awkwardness lessens. Then one day, Eddie walks – because they have finally let him out of the wheelchair, deeming his healing torso strong enough for him to start walking around – into Billy’s room, and stops in the doorway. There, in the light coming in from the window, Steve is sitting in the chair at Billy’s bedside, and Billy is sitting up in his bed, propped up on pillows. None of them have noticed Eddie yet, and both of them are smiling.

Their fingers are touching on top of the bedspread.

Now, Eddie has never been a religious person. He doesn’t really believe in gods or devils, angels or demons. But he suddenly finds – in this moment when he watches both of his loves alive and well and smiling at each other after everything they’ve all been through – that he might just believe in miracles.

#MSB2024 #metalsandwich #harringroveson #billy hargrove #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ihni writes #miracles

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dragonflylady77 · 9 months ago

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Mr Steve and The Monster Hunter

It's finally there, time to post my fic for @bigbangharringrove (thank you mods for all your work for this event!)

I've been working so hard on this one... I even did some doodles of a couple of scenes from it (I might post them once I've posted all 6 chapters).

Art by @adelacreations (so very excited about this!!).

I want to thank @ihni for Olivia’s name, @spaceofentropy for noticing I'd forgotten about Will (oops!) and @akioukun for Cindy’s name

Also on Ao3

Steve gets the surprise of his life when one of his students gets picked up by her father. A man who Steve thought had died on the dirty floor of Starcourt Mall fifteen years ago. Billy Hargrove is alive... and a dad. He runs a security company called HellGrove and he hunts monsters in the Upside Down for a living. When Billy opens a portal into the Upside Down in Robin and Heather’s backyard, Steve follows because he wants answers.

Chapter 1 - Mr Steve isn't a boy

Steve is looking forward to the weekend after a long week teaching six-year-olds. Having the school trip to the zoo the same week as the talent show is not something he’s keen to do again in a hurry and he let his principal know as much.

He smiles as the last of the kids rush past him, waving him goodbye as they squeeze in the doorway before running down the hallway towards the exit, a spring in their step. He notices Olivia is still in the classroom and he walks over to her desk.

“Everything okay, Olivia?” he asks as she shoves the last of her drawings in her backpack. He reminds himself for the hundredth time to ask Robin where she found the Hawkins Lifeguard backpack because he didn’t know such an item existed and he was a lifeguard at Hawkins Community Pool for a few summers, both while he was in high school, and after, during summer breaks from university.

He knows he isn’t supposed to have favorites but Robin and Heather’s daughter is one of the brightest students he’d had in his ten years of teaching elementary school and she is extremely funny to boot, at a level that her classmates usually don’t get.

“Yep, Mr Steve, I’m spending the weekend with my dad so I want to show him all my work.”

“Your dad?” Steve asks, confused. As far as he knows, the little girl only has her two mums. Of course, Steve figures there has to have been a man involved in the process, he did pay some attention in biology class, but he never asked. Heather still scares him a little and he isn’t as close to Robin as they were fifteen years ago.

Nope, not thinking about it.

“Yes, he works a lot all over the country so I don’t see him very much.”

“Then I bet you’re very excited to see him!”

“I haven’t seen him since Christmas, he’s very busy but he rings me when he can,” Olivia says matter-of-factly as she closes her bag.

“That’s nice,” Steve says, smiling even though he thinks two months is a long time without seeing your child, not that he has any of his own.

“He lives in California, you know,” she adds as she starts walking to the door.

Steve follows a few steps behind, in a daze, her words unleashing the memories of loud metal, leather and cigarettes, and a blue Camaro.

Nope, not thinking about him.

He watches Olivia step out of the classroom and turns towards the mess he still has to clean before he can go home when the voice coming from the adjoining hallway stops him in his tracks.

“Hey, princess!”

It can’t be. But that voice… He’s heard it before, and those words…

Shaking like a leaf, Steve turns towards the open doorway and takes the three steps that separate him from the owner of the voice.

It isn’t possible. Billy Hargrove is dead, Steve reminds himself. He died at Starcourt Mall fifteen years ago, in what remains the scariest night of Steve’s life. This is just his brain playing tricks on him.

He steps into the hallway and freezes. The shock of seeing Billy Hargrove, alive and in the flesh, dims Olivia’s gleeful screams.

He looks… Steve feels all the air leave his lungs. Billy looks fucking good for a dead guy. His hair is cut short, some golden curls on the top still, he looks broader in the shoulders, his muscles more defined than they were in high school, not that Steve is looking, but the guy is wearing a t-shirt that looks painted on, okay?

He is also sporting a scar across his left cheek that looks not too recent but doesn’t make him look any less handsome, as well as some gnarly looking, but silver, older, scars on his arms and Steve knows there would be matching ones on his sides and in the middle of his chest, where the Mind Flayer had hit him with its tentacles.

“Pretty boy?” The shock is evident in Billy’s voice. He clearly didn’t expect to see Steve either.

“Daddy, you’re silly. Mr Steve isn’t a boy, he’s my teacher!”

Billy clears his throat and looks down at his daughter. “I can see that, princess.”

Billy Hargrove has a daughter!! What. The. Fuck?

“Billy. Long time no see.”

“Mr Steve, you know my daddy?” Olivia is looking between the two of them, trying to work out the connection.

Billy crouches so he is level with Olivia. “Mr Steve went to school with me and your moms, Livi.” He looks around and picks up her cardigan from her hook. “Is that all your stuff?”

“Yes, Daddy. I gotted all the stuff in my bag to show you.”

“That’s great, princess. Can you wait here a minute while I have a super quick chat with Mr Steve?”

She nods. “Can I play the word game on your phone?”

“Sure thing.”

Once Billy sorts Olivia with her game, he looks at Steve who is still hovering in the doorway and gestures towards the classroom. Steve nods and heads back inside, Billy a few steps behind him.

Steve stops when he reaches his desk, trying to compose himself. He hears Billy behind him and turns around.

“Robin never said—”

“You probably hav—”

They both stop at the same time and Steve knows he’s being awkward but he is not prepared for this. It’s not like he was friends with the guy back in high school, but Billy sacrificed his life to save them that day in1985 so for him to just show up like that is just… Steve doesn’t even know at this stage. He needs time to process.

“Listen, I have to run, haven’t seen Livi in way too long and I want to make the best of it but if you want to talk, or like, I dunno, have questions for me, here’s my card. Call me.”

Billy pulls out his wallet and hands Steve a business card with a tentative smile. Steve takes it, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. He nods as Billy puts his wallet away.

“See you around, pretty boy.” Billy doesn’t wait for a reply and he heads out.

Steve hears Olivia’s voice then the chatter moves further away as they walk towards the exit.

He finally looks down at the card in his hand. It’s dark gray, almost black, with the letters HG in white in the middle. He flips it to find the same monogram on the left then his eyes read over the words, taking them in.

HellGrove Security Consultants

William H. Hargrove

CEO & Head of Security

Followed by a phone number and an email address.

What.

The.

Fuck?

***

It’s after midnight and Steve is lying on his bed, flipping Billy’s card over and over, the dim light of his bedside lamp catching on something in the corner of the card. It’s embossed in the same color so he didn’t really notice until now. He brings the card closer so he can have a proper look and…

It’s a demogorgon flower head.

Motherfucker.

He grabs his phone to call Robin but then remembers that they’re not really best friends anymore, besides it’s late and she’s a parent now. Olivia did say she was spending the weekend with her dad but Steve isn’t sure what the arrangement is.

Billy Hargrove is alive and he’s a dad.

More questions than answers and it’s making Steve want to scream. So he sends Robin a message, figuring that she can choose to reply if she’s awake.

He hopes she does.

Steve: So I met Olivia’s dad at pick up today.

Immediately the reply box shows three littles dots. Steve holds his breath for a bit but has to give up after a minute. Either Robin is typing a novel-length explanation or she is not sure what to say.

Robin: Surprise? <cringe emoji>

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve yells in the empty room, his frustration at boiling point. His phone dings again and he looks to see what else Robin had to say.

Robin: Come over for lunch tomorrow. We’ll talk.

Steve sends a brief text saying he’ll be there then puts his phone down and switches to his laptop, giving into the temptation to visit HellGrove.com.

The website mentions the usual stuff: the various services offered (most of which mean little to Steve), reviews from clients as well a page about the company and its staff. Steve keeps looking on the main page for the freaky flower and finally finds it, hidden on the Reviews page when his cursor hovers in the bottom left corner and HOLY FUCK!

There’s no photos of the Upside Down but the hand drawn illustration in the banner is enough for Steve to suppress a shudder at the memories. There are a handful of anonymous written accounts by survivors who were rescued by HellGrove and reports about unsuccessful rescue missions. The wording is vague but, to someone who’s experienced it first hand, it’s clear they’re talking about the Upside Down.

Steve goes back to the home page and clicks on Staff. His eyes immediately focus on the black and white photo of Billy. It must have been taken some time ago because the scar on his face is missing.

The short bio tells Steve that William H. Hargrove joined the Marines at eighteen and left after six years to start his own security company. Steve scrolls down and he is surprised and a bit shocked to find out that Max, Lucas, Will and El also work for Billy. And some guy named Argyle, who apparently has no last name.

He vaguely remembers Dustin mentioning that Lucas got a job in California after college and he knew El and the Byers already lived over there. He feels bad when he realizes he hasn’t thought about Max in years. He ponders reaching out to Dustin but that would open a can of worms and even more questions.

He closes his laptop and dumps it on the other side of the bed and settles on his side to go to sleep.

The feeling of an arm around his waist pulls Steve from his slumber. He gasps when he realizes there’s a (warm!) body behind him, the owner of which is dragging him closer and dropping a string of kisses on his shoulder.

Steve can’t remember the last time he shared a bed with someone, especially while being naked, though he is sure he was wearing pajamas earlier. The kisses morph into a bite and a needy moan escapes his lips when he feels teeth nibbling on his skin. The embrace around his middle tightens and Steve’s hand drifts to the one holding him, fingers locking with the ones of the man behind him. Because it is a man, of that Steve has no doubt.

He looks down, noticing the silver scars in the soft glow of his bedside lamp. “Billy?”

“Sorry I woke you up, pretty boy,” comes the hushed whisper from behind him.

“No, it’s okay. What are yo—” The words die in his throat when Billy moves their linked hands south. Steve can feel Billy harden against his ass as their hands start stroking his dick and he shivers.

Billy gives a light squeeze and Steve rolls his hips, arching his back and groaning when Billy bites down on the crook of his neck.

“Oh god… Billy…”

Steve lets go of Billy’s hand to bury his fingers in golden curls instead. It’s been so long since the hand touching him wasn’t his that the pleasure of it is blinding in its intensity.

He moans loudly, earning himself another bite from Billy.

“Shhhh, pretty boy, not so loud, you’ll wake the baby.”

Steve sinks his teeth in his bottom lip in an effort to be quiet, so he doesn’t wake this baby he doesn’t remember having. His entire focus is on not making noise while Billy does unspeakable things to his body. He shudders; he’s so close already…

Billy notices, because of course he does, he always did notice things, and his hand starts moving faster, his closed fist squeezing the head of Steve’s cock on the upstroke. It’s slick, it’s heady, and too soon, Steve can feel his orgasm rushing at him.

He comes with a shout he can’t silence, but when he opens his eyes again, he’s alone in his bed. It’s his hand around his cock, his mess in his pajama pants.

Chest still heaving, he quickly cleans up using his pants and gets back into bed wearing a clean pair, reeling from the shocked realization that he wants Billy Hargrove. And a baby.

What the fuck?

Chapter 2

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove big bang #harringrove bigbang #harringrovebigbang #dragonflylady77 #collab #mr steve and the monster hunter

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artiststarme · 1 year ago

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Eddie does not do well with blood. He didn’t when he had his first memorable nosebleed and had to go to the school nurse to treat a concussion he’d given himself by fainting. He didn’t when he saw some junior getting beat to a pulp by Billy Hargrove out in the parking lot and threw up on the side of his van. And if anything, his distrust surrounding blood only strengthened when he watched a pig get dissected in biology class and fainted, again, in front of everyone.

All of his skinned knees, bloody noses, and battle wounds accompanied fainting spells, vomiting, and mortification for poor Eddie. Usually it also came with a hug from Uncle Wayne and maybe an ice cream if the embarrassment was really apparent. But throughout his 20 years of life, Eddie hadn’t been able to get over his teeny-tiny reaction to seeing blood.

So really, it was no surprise that his cowardly mind switched to autopilot when it saw blood streaming from Chrissy’s eyes in his trailer. The first sight of blood caused his body to move on its own and the sight of splintered limbs forced him out of the space entirely. It was like he was living an out-of-body experience for the entire week. He saw his classmates bleeding, cracking, and dying. He saw Steve Harrington getting munched on by horrendously horrific creatures and gave him his favorite vest to bleed on. It was like Eddie’s mind had fractured past the point of caring about his fear.

Then he himself got attacked by creatures from his worst nightmares and as soon as he saw the first drop of blood, he was out like a light. His brain had finally caught back up in the face of pain and Eddie didn’t necessarily mind it (the rest of the Party did though when they thought he’d died from some superficial bat bites). When he woke up in the hospital, he was greeted with the delicious sight of a sleep rumpled Steve laying at the side of his bed, his hand wrapped in Eddie’s. Suddenly, the atrocities it had taken to get there didn’t seem so horrific. Not as long as he had Steve by his side.

#Then he sees the bag of blood hanging on the IV stand and his BP plummets #Steve wakes up with a heart attack thinking he’s dying #they’re both fine eventually #Apparently I pass out at the sight of blood now… I don’t like that #this is bad… I’m a medical professional!#stranger things #steddie #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson

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billyharringson · 1 month ago

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Probably no surprise that my first fill for the @metalsandwichbingo is pure PWP

Fill: C3 - one alpha and two omegas in heat

Title: Sweet Heat

Rating: Explicit

Additional tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Alpha Steve Harrington, Omega Eddie Munson, Omega Billy Hargrove, Intersex Omega Biology, intersex Billy Hargrove, Intersex Eddie Munson, Heats, Daddy Kink, BDSM, Dom/sub, Collars, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Threesome - M/M/M, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Top Steve Harrington, Switch Eddie Munson, Sub Billy Hargrove, Breeding Kink, Steve Harrington Has a Breeding Kink, Biting, Claiming Bites, Bondage, Light Bondage

Summary: Steve probably should have expected Billy and Eddie’s heats to sync up at some point. It was common knowledge that bonded Omegas often went into heat at the same time, but over the year they’d been together there had always been at least a week between their heats.

Steve wasn’t complaining, far from it. In fact, his day had just gotten 100% better.

AO3:

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #harringrove #eddie munson #mungrove #harringroveson #metalsandwich

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aloneinthehellfire · 2 years ago

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hii I loved ur Billy x reader fic you did and I sort of have an idea for another one?

Something where Billy goes to the reader after his fight with Steve in season 2 and she helps him clean his wounds etc. I don't mind if it's established relationship or not, I just thought it would be cool to see his thoughts and stuff after the fight and maybe a lil redemption??

here we are, i hope it sounds good i kinda rushed to finish it during my uni work break oops

GREATEST FEAR

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After his fight at the Byers household, Billy Hargrove has only one place to go; to your trailer.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse (from parents), neglection, mentions of blood, like a really long intro for no reason, fluffy stuff

[A/N: this was definitely something different than i usually write so it was kinda fun but i apologise for it being awful]

set in ST2 (in this fic, Billy has been in Hawkins for at least a month longer than he is originally because I said so)

GREATEST FEAR

Billy Hargrove’s worst fear wasn’t predictable.

In fact, it would probably be the last thing someone would guess considering his reputation. And, after the fight at the Byers house, that fear was hitting him like a brick.

His greatest fear? The only person he loved seeing him for who he truly was. That person, being you.

It was true that Billy was far from reaching even the possibility of perfect. Not since his mom left. And certainly not since his dad took it out on his only child. For the longest time, he blamed his actions as a repercussion of his father’s treatment, validating these violent urges he had. And then he met you.

You were kind, and unbelievably smart, and you didn’t have a violent bone in your body. Billy remembers the first time he saw you, walking out of the school with a boy that Billy thought was too out of your league to be believable. You had worn a smile, laughing away as you shared something you found exciting. It wasn’t unusual for Billy to check out girls, but this wasn’t the same. He was utterly and completely mesmerised by you.

And all at the same time, he immediately decided who you were; some promising young girl that her parents prided on, growing up in a little cul-de-sac and practically having opportunities presented to her on a dish. In fact, he had presented his opinion to you after a partnered project forced you both to sit together during lunch. And, to say the least, he severely misjudged your situation.

“I’m sorry, what?” You raise your eyebrows at him, confusion flooding your face. Billy expected you to be defensive, angry even. Instead, you looked slightly amused.

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?” Billy chuckled, a little uncertain already.

After a few minutes of making notes on this biology project you were both meant to create, he had assumed you were judging his lack of knowledge in the area and decided to let burst his own thoughts on you.

“Uh…” You appear to stifle a laugh, looking back down at your page, “Yeah. Pretty much.”

You let out a laugh just as the bell rings and you quickly pack up your things. Looking back at him, you bite your bottom lip before laughing once again, walking away before Billy could even react to your response.

Billy had thought about that conversation for days. It became unbearable to a point where he had blurted his question to you one day, hoping you would shed some light on your amusement.

Rather than spill all your secrets to him, however, you had opened up over time. First, he found out you lived in a trailer with your dad rather than a cul-de-sac. And he thought you were joking about it for a while, constantly asking to visit your home for the project rather than his. When you finally granted his wishes, he was only half-surprised to see you were telling the truth.

Going inside the trailer let out the second truth, one that hit a little too close to home for Billy’s liking; your dad was an asshole. Right from when he stepped foot in that trailer, he was met with a drunken shout from the other side of the hallway, you tightening your lips and sending an apologetic glance at him before disappearing towards the noise. When you had come back, you simply smiled away whatever pain hid behind your eyes and led him to your quiet room to study.

One reveal came after the other and Billy finally realised just how wrong he was about you. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to admit anyone could have any kind of life he did, that they couldn’t possibly understand his pain. But you did. Your mom left when you were young, too tired of her husband’s abuse to care for her child anymore. Which led to putting you in your father’s spotlight, bruises appearing on your skin instead. After a while, he had stopped and taken to drinking, but that didn’t heal any of the scars. And now you lived in a trailer with a drunken parent, having to take two jobs to keep the roof over your head.

All of that pain, and you were the sweetest person Billy knew. And Billy couldn’t use his background as an excuse anymore, not around you.

Which made knocking on your trailer door this particular night so much scarier.

The door swings open and your silhouette is revealed in the glow from your living room, hair a little messy, your work clothes still clung to your body. Billy winces; you clearly had only just gotten off from your night shift at the diner.

“Billy, what-” Your voice stops and your eyes widen, staring at the boy in front of you.

Billy’s lip was swollen, blood smeared across his mouth and cheek. His eyes were slightly droopy, making him look drunk as he swayed faintly on the step, curled hair clung to his sweaty face.

He had clearly been in a fight.

“Shit.” You mutter, gently pulling him inside and shutting the door behind you.

You turn around to see Billy has his head down, avoiding your eyes. From down the hall, the faint sound of the TV blared through the trailer and you sigh. Your dad always fell asleep watching TV, thankfully.

“Okay, we need to be quiet.” You tell Billy, guiding him to your room and softly closing the door behind you.

Glancing back as he sits on the edge of your bed, you furrow your brows. He didn’t look well enough to go home right now. So, you grab the chair from the corner of your room and prop it under the door knob, ensuring you were locked in. It was only a precaution; if your dad caught Billy in your room, you wouldn’t want to know what he would do.

Wordlessly, you fish the first aid box out from under your bed and place it on the bed next to you, sitting cross legged beside Billy and gently reaching to cup your hand under his chin.

“Can you please look at me?” You ask softly and slowly, but surely, his head shifts towards you, eyes never meeting yours. “What happened?”

You usually didn’t ask that question. It was almost an expectation for Billy to come to you with some kind of bruise he had gotten from a fight at high school. He would always greet you with a cheeky grin before apologising in a way that said ‘I’m sorry you have to deal with it, but I will probably do it again’.

But this look was different. This look held guilt. And that scared you.

“Harrington.” Billy finally spoke and you frowned. He and Steve clearly had it out for eachother; you’d witnessed it enough times at their basketball practices. But there was never an actual fight.

You quickly pat his hand, slipping off the bed only for a moment to dampen a cloth with warm water before quickly returning to your spot.

Gently wiping away the blood stains, Billy let out a breath, shaking his head.

“I fucked up.” He whispers out and you freeze.

“Fucked up how?” You question and he hardens his jaw. Your eyes widen, suddenly panicking. “Okay, Billy, I need you to answer me because fucked up can mean anything between ‘I said something I didn’t mean’ to ‘ I literally killed a man’.”

“I didn’t kill anyone.” He grumbles and you slowly nod, silently releasing a relieved breath. You never thought he would be capable of it, but you’ve noticed how he’s been acting lately. His sister, Max, has been making new friends and Billy can’t seem to accept that. You couldn’t tell if he was being protective or something much worse. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the only problem he had was with Lucas Sinclair.

“I lost it.” He admits, hissing when you apply a dab of alcohol onto his lip.

“Sorry.” You wince, pulling back and tilting your head at him when he shifts his body away. “Billy? What did you do?”

He lets out a groan before letting his back hit the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. You do the same after a moment, turning your head to his and waiting for his response. He still seemed a little dazed and you wondered if he had drank before the fight.

Billy was terrified to tell you the truth. In actuality, the last words Max spoke to him were haunting. And it wasn't because they were the same as his father's. It was because he did that to her. To his sister. He had let his anger take control of him, and it turned her against him. He should have been protecting her, not scaring her.

“I went looking for Max.” Billy sighs, running his hands down his face and ignoring the burst of pain from his bottom lip, “My dad made me, said I should have more responsibility with her. Got me so fucking mad.”

As he started to explain, he was allowing himself to feel more than he usually did. Before he met you, he had no one to go to after a fight with his dad. A year ago, Billy would never imagine to feel so understood, let alone feel.

“I’m guessing you found her.” You say quietly and Billy takes a breath, moving his head to finally meet your eyes. He hated that he had to tell you what he did.

He knew what he was doing was wrong, even after every punch. But knowing he was the one in control was what kept him going, what gave him that thrill. Billy didn't want to admit that too you, yet.

“She was at the Byers house.” He suddenly let out a spiteful laugh, clicking his tongue, “Harrington was there with some kids Max keeps hanging around. And the dude lied to me about it. I- I was already angry and riled up, I would have hit anyone that ticked me off, ya know?”

He knew you didn’t know. Whenever anything happened with your dad, you would blast it out with music from your Walkman. You didn’t go around picking fights for relief.

“Finally got in the house.” He nods slowly, turning back to stare at the ceiling. He couldn’t bear to see your face when he told you this. “Saw the Sinclair kid with her. And I know. I know we talked about it. I know how fucking wrong it is. But I- I just… snapped.”

“Please don’t tell me you hurt him.” Your voice was small and he squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how he threw the boy against the wall.

“I hope not.” He whispers out. “Harrington stopped me before anything else. God, then it was all some stupid blur. I lost it, Y/n. I really lost it. Max had to literally stick me with a needle to get me to stop. I-I don’t know if Harrington’s okay.”

There’s a silence and Billy thinks he’s done it. He thinks his greatest fear has finally claimed the room and he will never hear from you again.

And then he feels your hand sliding into his, gently squeezing. It wasn’t until he moved his head to meet yours that he realised he was even crying.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Billy asks with such confusion, you almost laughed.

“I really wish you could see just how much you could achieve if you didn’t let that asshole into your head.” You finally speak, your words catching him off guard. You let out a breathy laugh, “I hate what he’s doing to you. And I hate what you did. But I don’t hate you.”

Billy just stares at you for a while, eyes searching yours for any hint that you’re lying. But you’re telling the truth. He couldn’t see why you put up with him, lord knows no one else has. Each day he spent with you, he was starting to feel more human again, a little more like the boy he was before his dad ruined his perfect life.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers out with such sincerity, you frowned.

“Billy.” You start, shifting closer to him, so close you could feel his breath against your nose. “You deserve to feel loved. Everyone does.”

“I don’t know where to go from here.” He admits, shaking his head against the duvet beneath his hair.

“Well,” You sigh, laying your head down and staring at where your hands were clasped, “We’re gonna fix you up, wait til whatever drug Max shot into you wears off… and then we’ll talk about it.”

“Sounds good.” Billy yawns and you smile, making his own face light up. God, he loved your smile. “How the hell do you put up with all my shit?”

“Maybe I just like having you around.” You shrug, sitting up and finally letting go of his hand.

He props himself up on the bed, smirking. “Is that right?”

You walk over to your bedside table, rummaging in the drawer for one of Billy’s old shirts he had left behind before.

“Yeah.” You nod, glancing over your shoulder, “It’s for entertainment purposes.”

“Ah.” He laughs, shaking his head. He was starting to feel the bruises now, the drug obviously losing its power.

“Here.” You hand him a new shirt and finish tending to his busted lip, making sure it would heal with no problems.

“Thank you.” Billy says and you look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“Anytime.” You reply with a kiss to his cheek, kicking off your shoes and climbing under the sheets of your bed.

He changed his shirt slowly, trying not to show how much pain he was in, and threw the old one to the floor before glancing behind him. You had claimed your side of the bed and opened the covers out to allow him to lay down next to you. He didn’t have to be asked twice.

As soon as your beside lamp was switched off, Billy slipped an arm around you and you snuggled in, careful of his bruised skin.

Billy Hargrove would never admit it, but he didn’t mind moving to Hawkins. Especially since Hawkins had you.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things reader insert #billy #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #st2 #harringrove #reader insert #female reader

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billlydear · 2 years ago

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BASIC BIOLOGY - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART THREE | FINAL PART) | PART ONE | PART TWO

word count: 9492 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: you're paired with billy for a biology project. you only visit his house once, but it's enough for you to understand why he doesn't want you to come over again. when he starts showing up more and more in your life, you realize that it's basic biology: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

Contents: mentions of injuries (healed/healing), trauma, discussions of billy's past, angst with a fluffy ending, cows !

A/N: oh my gosh ! the end ! it feels like i've been working on this forever and thinking about it even longer, and as a new-ish writer on the billy scene, i just want to thank you all for how sweet you've been, in response to this fic and many others. your support is so important to me, and i'm so glad that many of you enjoyed this fic. i hope that you like the ending, too, please tell me what you think!

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

You wake up beside Billy Hargrove differently than you’d fallen asleep beside him. Where his face had been previously tucked snug to your neck, his breath fanning out over your collarbones, his cheek is smushed to your chest now. His arm is slung over your stomach, one of his legs thrown over your own as his torso lays slumped up against yours. His cheek chubs up where it’s resting on your breast, and- god, his eyelashes are beautiful. The eyes behind them are just as gorgeous, but for now you’re glad they’re shut. He looks so relaxed, so peaceful, and you’d stay still for an eternity beneath him if it meant he’d be able to stay in that drowsy state of serenity.

His curls are mussed with sleep, bent out of shape and frizzy where they’d typically be slicked. There’s still bruises littered over his face but they’ve already begun healing, shifting in color to be lighter and less jarring.

Your fingers come up without you noticing to brush over one of his curls. It’s soft to the touch, and you give it an experimental squeeze, watching as it bounces back. You notice that it’s tangled slightly with another strand, and brush your pinky between them to separate the tangle.

It must tug lightly on Billy’s scalp, because he heaves an unconscious sigh. You wait for him to frown, to wake and snap at you for touching his precious hair, but he never does. Instead he settles again, eyes still firmly shut.

You can’t help it; you reach for his scalp. Your nails scrape gently, ever-so-slightly over his skin, brushing over hundreds of individual strands of hair rooted there and curled together.

Your breath catches in your throat as he moves. He hums, deep, soft, and low in his throat, the sound vibrating in his chest that’s pressed to your side. It sends a shiver up your spine, but it’s quickly quelled with the warmth that comes from his face as he presses it even further into your chest. Now his cheek is practically invisible, buried in your breast and angling his nose to one side. He tightens his arm around your waist, hoisting himself up and over you even further than he’d been before. He reminds you of a cat, purring and leaning into soft touches.

He seems to like it, so you don’t stop. You rove your fingers through every inch of his scalp, scratching and stroking and smoothing through his curls until they’re a mass of individual strands instead of grouped twists. It’s ridiculously soft, and you wonder how you’ve been able to refrain from touching his hair before now.

There’s nothing you’d rather do than stay here for eternity. Holding him, brushing through his hair, loving him. But your bladder has other wishes.

Wrestling yourself out from under him is difficult, but he accepts a pillow in exchange for your torso. He burrows his face into it just the same, and you can’t help but brush over his curls one last time as you stand over him, tucking the blankets up and around his shoulders.

When he’s securely tucked into your covers and snoozing away, you pad out of your bedroom, thankful that your parents work early shifts.

You seem to have woken up at a perfect time to make a breakfast larger than you normally do. It takes double the time to prepare a meal for the two of you, and you’re thankful that you think to group the eggs together in a pan to cut that extra time down. You’re setting plates at the table, stuffed with eggs, toast, and fresh fruit when Billy emerges from the hallway, staring cautiously at you where he stands.

His hair is haphazardly smoothed, but there’s no fixing the frizz that your fingers had worked out of it. Your clothes look good on him, even if the sweatpants are stretched over his upper calves instead of at his ankles from how he’d shifted in his sleep. Your shirt is riding up at his stomach and you politely avoid looking at his toned torso, even if you really want to.

“Breakfast,” You hum, pointing your spatula at the table, “Orange juice or milk?”

“Uh-” He flounders, blinking rapidly, “Water, please. Or- I can get it.”

He makes to step towards the kitchen but you whirl your spatula around to face him, intent on pampering the boy, “No, just go sit down. I can do it.”

He looks properly chided, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he ducks to hide it from you.

You set an ice cold glass of water at his place and notice that he’s waited to begin eating until you sat down. You give him the go-ahead, digging into a chunk of egg with your fork.

“Sleep good?” You glance up at him, a questioning glance shot through your lashes. He nods, silent and careful, and you realize that he seems to have closed himself off since last night, and you think that maybe leaving the bed before he woke wasn’t the best idea, even if it was just to make breakfast. You try remedying it by knocking your foot against his under the table, and he nearly chokes on his water. You leave your foot pressed flush to his own, a constant reminder of your touch on his skin.

“Does your stomach still hurt?” You try again, gulping down OJ.

“A bit,” His morning voice is raspy and you know you’re going to fawn over it later, even if you’re trying hard not to take advantage of his vulnerability.

“It’s mostly a cut up here,” He reaches a hand under his (your) shirt, rubbing at a patch below his left pec. You can see his fingers move under the shirt, and you remember the wound that’s there from last night.

“That probably means your ribs aren’t broken,” You conclude, relief washing over you at the fact that his bruises are just that.

“Nah, not broken,” He shakes his head, stuffing fruit into his mouth and ignoring the way juice drips down his chin, “I know what a broken rib feels like.”

You still, looking up suspiciously at him with your head ducked to your plate. His shoulders slump, “Just some kid from school. He had rings on, and he hit hard.”

“Oh,” You supply lamely, “I’m glad they healed.”

You eat in silence for a few bites, but he doesn’t shy away from your touch beneath the table, and you’re thankful for that. He even shifts his foot to press more against yours, his sock slightly itchy against your skin. Right after he leans into your touch, he speaks.

“My dad doesn’t usually… do this. This was bad, he tries not to leave marks. I think-” He hesitates, and you nudge his foot with your own again, encouraging him, “I think he’d be even more angry if I missed school than whatever he was mad about in the first place. So he has to keep things inconspicuous. And if anyone sees anything I just have to make excuses.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, not out of pity, but sympathy, “I… I really don’t know how you do it. You’re strong, Billy, y’know that?”

He scoffs into his honeydew.

“I mean it,” You press on, “You just… take it. You let him do that to you because if you fight back other people might get hurt, and that takes strength. Even if it feels weak to get beat on, just know you’re saving your stepsister and her mom, and… I’m proud of you.”

He stills for a moment, jaw stiffening in the middle of a chewing motion. He swallows dry, but whatever it is goes down fine, and he clears his throat without meeting your eye.

“He used to hit my mom,” Billy admits, voice now hoarse from emotion rather than sleep. He scrunches his eyes shut momentarily, “I.. I couldn’t stop him. I was too young. And she left. So I guess I just… got bigger. Just in case.”

You recall seeing a set of weights in his living room. You had presumed they were his, but hadn’t bothered to ask among discussions of mitosis. Now, though, you realize he’s bulked himself up to combat his dad’s abuse, even if he uses it to protect others rather than himself.

It spreads a thin layer of mist over your eyes, the thought of preteen Billy experimenting with handheld five-pounders in hopes of blocking a punch. What hits you even harder is his current image, a toned teen who still doesn’t have the heart to hit back.

You can’t figure out how to respond. If you say you’re proud of him again, he might shut down. If you sound like you’re pitying him, he’ll be angry. So instead you reach over the table, your fork clattering to the wood as you take his free hand.

He’s startled by the sudden movement paired with the noise, but he makes up for his momentary flinch by ghosting his thumb softly over the back of your hand. His fingers don’t curl against yours, so it’s not a mutual gesture, you’re just holding his hand. Slowly, surely, his fingers move inch by inch, slipping between your own and settling against your skin.

You wonder if it’s the first time anyone’s ever held his hand.

“Thanks,” He breathes, his breath a huff of cantaloupe scent. He sniffles, hard, aggressively, and you know he doesn’t want you to acknowledge the tear that streaks fast down his cheek.

You let him wipe it away without saying anything, even though you want to tell him it’s okay. You hope that the way you squeeze his hand tells him that, though, because it’s true. It’s okay for him to cry, and you’re glad that, even if he tries hiding it around you, he feels safe enough to let the tears fall in the first place.

The rest of your breakfast is filled with mindless chatter, a few gossip strands weaving their way through an otherwise pleasant conversation. He learns that Amanda Weaver has been telling everyone he gave her a promise ring, but you’d seen her fish the plain silver band off of her keychain.

“I don’t even know her,” He snorts, “And promise rings are dumb.”

Your nose wrinkles, “I don’t think so. They’re cute.”

“They’re pointless,” He insists, shoveling egg into his mouth, “Having a ring to chuck in the garbage is gonna hurt a whole lot more when they leave.”

“If.” You murmur.

“Hm?” He glances up at you, mouth full.

“If they leave.” You correct him quietly, “Some people stay.”

He’s frozen. Baby blues unblinking, he stares at you like a deer in headlights. You hold his gaze with your own steady one, waiting until his brain wraps around what you’re really trying to tell him: I’ll stay.

He’s quiet, for a long time. He keeps his eyes on his eggs, roving over every crease and hill in their structure. Then he mumbles so soft you can barely hear it, “Right.”

There’s a thousand things you want to say. A thousand promises you want to make, a thousand reassuring words you want to mumble against his skin so that they’re absorbed. But the not-so-nice blare of your kitchen timer kindly reminds you it’s time to get to school, and you settle for none at all.

“Shit,” You mumble, shoveling your last bite of melon into your mouth and standing, “I’ll get my-!”

You glance back at him when you feel a tug, and he’s sitting in place, hand still entwined with yours. He’s cautious, frozen, and you melt into a smile, squeezing his hand.

“My bag.” You clarify, “Are we taking the bus, or walking to your place?”

“Let’s walk,” He decides, his hand never letting up in its grip on yours. It’s bold, it’s forward, it’s healing.

“Okay,” You grin, keeping your fingers tightly curled around Billy’s and tugging him up through the shared embrace, “Let’s go! I’ve gotta be on time today, we’re taking a quiz in first period.”

“We don’t have to go in, we can just get my car.” He lets you drag him to the living room, “The only thing I keep in my bag are cigarettes, anyways. I can bum a few.”

“Billy,” You scold, “Where do your papers go?”

“In the trash.”

“Nice,” You scoff, wincing as you step outside and the harsh sunlight hits your eyes. You fumble with your house keys, slipping them into the lock to close up the house, “I’m gonna buy you a binder. And you’re gonna put your school stuff in it, nice and neat, and you’re gonna carry a pencil, and you’re gonna bring water, and you’re gonna-”

“And you’re gonna fall,” He yanks on your hand, pulling you tight to his side as he points at a rock you’d been headed for, “Pay attention, clumsy.”

“Oh.” You flounder, his toned arm against your cheek as you struggle to right yourself, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” He flashes you a grin you’ve seen before, primarily aimed at his basketball teammates or a girl he’s chatting up. It’s confident, shit-eating, and it sends a wave of butterflies through your stomach.

The walk to his house isn’t terribly long. It’s a trek, for sure, but you’re there in under a half-hour, laughing all the while. Billy’s hand is still firmly gripping yours, and he’s funny, you remember, when he’s not crying.

“Dad’s not home,” He clocks the car missing from the driveway, “I can get mine and go.”

“Get your bag,” You order, face stern and brows scrunched, “And don’t throw away any of your school papers today!”

“No promises, babe,” He teases, his own key in his pocket as he jams it into the door. You’re thankful that he turns away to step inside so that he doesn’t see your eyes widen at the nickname, but you hope your hand doesn’t begin to sweat, or he’ll notice.

“Maxine?” He calls, shouting through the house. There’s no reply, and her sneakers aren’t by the front door, so you presume she’s not home.

“Probably skated,” Billy shrugs, “My bag’s in my room.”

He doesn’t have to drag you there, you know the way. You send a withering glare towards the room at the end of the hall, where you know Billy’s dad sleeps, as if it’ll cast a curse over the doorway and land him seven years of bad luck. You see the fireplace poker on your way, set neatly back in its place. There’s blood on it.

He changes quick, and you occupy yourself with the collection of tapes by his closet. He’d yanked your shirt right off of his head like you weren’t standing there, but when you’d turned with burning cheeks to give him some privacy, he hadn’t said anything.

Billy’s persistence on holding your hand is sweet, but surprising. The last thing you’d have expected from him was a clingy puppy-boy, but his head turns to track you whenever your hand nearly slips out of his own, and he wrestles with his bag one-handed instead of dropping the embrace. You’re just glad he’s finally holding onto something good in his life instead of pushing it away.

You think it’s a massive inconvenience that he can’t drive while holding your hand. He tries, at first, resting them on the center console, but when he changes lanes and almost overshoots it, you pry your hand out of his own.

“Two hands,” You laugh bashfully, “It’s okay, we- uh, later… later we can…”

“Later,” He turns his head to grin at you, a brilliant display as he slaps his now-free hand onto the wheel, “Later’s good.”

Unfortunately, later gets pushed back a lot. When Billy pulls into the parking lot, the bell rings. He knows you’re going to be late for your quiz, so he doesn’t try to keep you, smiling softly, “Just go. See you in bio.”

Then between classes, you catch a glimpse of him in the hall. Your stomach starts acting up again, butterflies coming in droves, mind reeling with the thought of him grabbing your hand in public. He almost does, eyes widening as he catches sight of you, broad shoulders muscling everyone out of the way. But before he can reach you, a similarly-toned man steps up beside him, a basketball jersey slung over his frame.

He talks, and talks, and talks and talks and talks, all waving arms and loud jeering. Billy tries holding your gaze over his shoulder, nodding mindlessly along to whatever the boy is saying, but the warning bell rings and you send him a soft, defeated smile.

‘Later,’ You mouth, and his eyes dim when he nods.

Your efforts are futile at lunch, too. He has the class period before with a few of his friends, loud and brash, not your style. It means that you occupy your normal seat, a corner of a bench that the group to your left isn’t using, and tug out a book to entertain yourself. You feel his gaze burning against the side of your head, but if you get caught staring at him, his friends will turn it into some wild story about how you’re infatuated with him, and you’re not the type of person that makes that observation a compliment, at least, not to Billy’s friends. You almost hope he stops looking at you, too, because if they catch him staring, you don’t know how they’ll torment you.

It almost kills him to wait until you’re seated together in biology to reach for your hand. You’d never seen him arrive to class earlier than today, he’s even there before you are. He doesn’t bother to hide his staring, icy eyes tracking you from the second you walk through the door to the second you sit beside him.

You’re thankful that you’re officially seated together now, and you’re thinking that maybe you don’t hate group projects as much as you thought you did.

“Hey,” He murmurs, sliding his hand across the back of yours under the desk.

“Hey,” You hum, flipping your hand over to meet his palm-to-palm.

Everything seems right with the world again.

There’s a certain security you get from Billy’s touch, even if he probably gets more from yours. Having someone to hold grounds you, and you hope it does the same for him. It’s strange, feeling such a strong connection to someone you’d only started talking to days before, but you suppose that’s what happens when you remove all of the formalities of friendship. Your first sleepover just happened to be in an effort to keep him alive, not to eat junk food and watch movies.

You try to pay attention to the teacher, you really do. But she’s nowhere near as interesting as the soft scratching of Billy’s pencil on your paper, and you can’t help but watch as he writes.

You need a ride home?

You reach for your own pencil, scrawling your answer and sliding the paper to him in response

I can take the bus. You should take Max, she skated this morning.

He nearly breaks his pencil writing: She’s got tutoring after school today, she skates home anyways.

Okay, You decide, and you see him smile out of the corner of his eye as you write the word, Thanks, Billy.

He squeezes your hand, and he doesn’t need to write ‘You’re welcome’ for you to know it’s what he’s saying.

Biology typically drones on. You try to stay on top of your schoolwork, of course, but that doesn’t mean you enjoy it. The class is suddenly a lot less dreary with Billy beside you, and it becomes a game of stifling giggles. He steps on the toe of your shoe beneath the table, you tug at one of his curls. He crowds your space with his shoulder and nudges you to the edge of your seat, you let go of his hand to pinch at his thigh. He has to stifle a groan at that one, and to do so he thumps his head forwards on his desk, using the cool plastic against his forehead to quell his rugged laughter.

The thunk of his head against the desk alerts your teacher, and you sit up straight, eyes on your paper that’s covered in doodles as you try not to laugh. She scoffs, seeing Billy slumped over the desk, and probably assumes he’s fallen asleep. When she turns away, you elbow him, dipping your head down to where his rests on the desk to whisper in his ear.

“Cut it out,” You hiss, kicking his foot beneath the desk, “She almost saw!”

“Oh no,” He gushes, turning his head so that a sliver of his face shows, glinting with a shit-eating grin, “Do you think we’ll get in trouble?”

“It’s not funny!” You insist, keeping your voice as hushed as possible, “I’ve never been in trouble before, and if I get sent to the principal’s office, I’ll-”

“Y/L/N! Hargrove!” You stiffen at the voice of your teacher, your eyes widening where Billy’s only sparkle with excitement, “You two seem distracted. Anything on your minds?”

“Not mitosis.” Billy quips, straightening up from the desk and leaning back in his chair. He earns a few laughs from his scattered friends, and the teacher’s face hardens. Your stomach drops.

“You think you’re funny? You’re one missed homework assignment from failing this class. And now you’re dragging Y/N into this, too? Both of you, head to the front office. This ends here.”

There are tears burning at your eyes. You’re not the best student in the world. Hell, you’re not even in the top ten. But you’re not a bad one either, at best you slip through the cracks. You’ve never had disciplinary action taken against you, and gathering your things amongst the tense silence of your peers feels like a death sentence.

Billy barely remembers to get his own bag, and he pointedly leaves his papers scattered over his desk. You scoop them up in your own handful, and he waits diligently by your side as you pick up your things. When you’re finally packed up he snatches your hand from where it’s hanging at your side, marching the both of you to the door.

He offers the teacher a very quaint, very polite middle finger as he drags you out of the door, and that’s what does it. The second the door shuts behind you, you burst into tears.

He looks up, alarmed at the sob you let out. The classroom you’d just exited has a row of windows that your back is facing, and he’s worried that if you turn slightly, your classmates will see you cry. As much as you’d told him it was okay to cry this morning, he’s sure you wouldn’t want your peers witnessing the meltdown you’re having. He acts fast, using your intertwined hands and yanking you into the nearest bathroom.

Your sobs echo off of the tile, and he pulls you haphazardly into his chest. Your head rests there pitifully, shoulders slumped as you cry.

“Jesus, okay,” He pants, peering under the few stalls in the back to make sure you’re alone, “What’s wrong?”

“I- I don’t know!” You do know, but it feels embarrassing to say it out loud, “I just- I’ve never been in trouble before, and it’s going on my-” You break to quell another sob, tamping it down in your chest, “Permanent record, and-!”

“Okay, calm down.” Billy scoffs, and you’re surprised to find that it’s not a derogatory one, but a fond one, “It’s fine. All we were doing was talking, it’s not like we were smoking weed in the bathroom.”

Your head shoots up and you recognize your surroundings. You glare at him suspiciously, “You don’t have any weed on you, right?”

“No!” He laughs incredulously, “I do not have any weed on me. Now,” He takes your shoulders in his broad hands, and your fingers go cold now that his aren’t intertwined with them anymore.

“You and I are gonna calm down,” He tells you, voice slow and steady. You’re the only one that needs to calm down, but you appreciate his cooperation.

“Then we’re gonna leave this bathroom, and do you know where we’re gonna go?”

“The front office,” You recite, but he breaks into a grin, shaking his head so that his curls fly.

“But that’s where she told us-”

“She can suck my dick.” Billy scoffs, “She made you cry. Forget her.”

“Billy, I can’t just forget her,” You insist, eyes wide and teary, “She’s our teacher!”

“Today’s Friday,” He reminds you, “She’s not our teacher again until Monday.”

“Fine. Where are we really going?” You look at him skeptically, raising your hand to wipe your nose against its back.

“Okay, first, ew.” Billy wrinkles his nose, yanking your hand away from your face and wiping it with a paper towel that he jerks out of the machine. He wipes your nose next, but he does it aggressively, smearing the paper towel against your face and pushing your head back until you’re laughing, trying to swat him away. The sound makes him smile, and it doesn’t fade as he continues talking.

“We’re gonna go see a movie,” He decides, hiking the strap of his bag higher up on his shoulder. Your face darkens slightly, goofy grin dimming.

“We can’t.” You protest softly, “She told us to go to the front office. You said it yourself, Billy, we were just talking. But if we ditch, we’ll be in more trouble, real trouble.”

“I’m always in trouble,” He huffs, “And you’re never in trouble. You really think this’ll be a breaking point for either of us?”

“What’s gonna happen when we don’t show up to the office?”

“They’ll give us detention.”

“We have to go, then!” Your eyes go wide, and you start for the door. He lunges for your hand, grabbing it just before you can push your way out, and this time he doesn’t drop it when he pulls you back inside.

“Detention means we’ll get to sit together for two hours and mess around.”

“No we can’t,” You scoff, “They monitor you. So we can’t just mess around.”

“Hey.” He snaps, begging your attention with those icy blue eyes of his, “Have you ever been in detention before?”

“No.” You admit quietly.

“Right. I have. They don’t care. They don’t want to be there, and they know we don’t either. They’re not gonna punish us any further, ‘cause then they’d just have to sit there with us for longer. Trust me, this will be fun.”

“Fun,” You groan, slumping forwards into his chest rather than covering your face with your hands. It’s a bold move, but a well-received one, and you feel his firm chest shake as he chuckles.

“Yes, fun.” He promises, “But if you really wanna walk up to that office and get lectured…”

“Billy,” You bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your head up so that your chin rests against his chest, “I.. I do. I’m sorry, I know you want to have fun, and- and you can go to the movies if you want! But I don’t want detention on my record. Even if it won’t do anything, I just- it sounds bad.”

“Okay.” He says, after a moment of tense silence. His grin fades, but he doesn’t scoff or push you away. He sighs dramatically, “You’re changing me, y’know. Normally I’d be halfway home by now, but you’ve got me hauling myself in to see the principal, this is bullshit.”

“I told you you could go to the movies!” You gush, laughing weakly at his dramatic display. He brings one of his large hands up to your face, smearing his rough thumb beneath your eyes and wiping away the sticky tear tracks there.

“No,” He sighs again, huffing and puffing, “I’m the one that got you in trouble, I’m not gonna ditch you. We’ll just suffer together.”

His words strike something in you. He’s chosen to change himself, to face consequences for his actions when he’d normally flee. You’re proud of him, so insanely proud that you decide to change yourself as well, and when he leads you towards the office by your intertwined hands, you turn sharply and drag him the other way.

“Wha- Woah.” His eyes widen as you yank him down the hallway, your feet slapping against the shitty linoleum flooring. You beeline for the door, bursting into the daylight with your adrenaline-pumped chest heaving. You come to a stop just outside the building, looking back at him with a thrill glowing in your eyes.

“What movie are we seeing?” You pant, and his grin reappears.

“You’re trouble.” He declares in a laugh, “Let’s go.”

Billy drives fast. This time it doesn’t seem like recklessness, though, but fun. The windows are rolled down, and wind whips through the car and ruffles your hair. His own blonde curls are flying, in his face and over his shoulders against the seat.

“Slow down!” You shriek, laughing through your words, “We’re gonna crash!”

“What are we gonna crash into,” He gestures to the empty road in front of you, all farmland and dust as the same laughter bleeds into his own voice, “A haybale? You want me to slow down so you can admire the scenery?”

There is no scenery. There’s fields, half-dead grass rolling on for miles and miles and passing by so fast that it looks like the sand on a beach. The sky is your ocean, blue and foamy white where clouds streak across it. You pass isolated barns, groves of trees, and-

“Cows!”

“What?”

“Cows! There’s cows up there,” You gush, pointing aggressively at the pasture, “Stop!”

“I can’t-! Uh, okay,” Billy rushes to step on the brakes, wheels screeching against the poorly-paved asphalt as he skids to a stop.

You’re surprised he doesn’t burn through his tires with how fast he stops. You’re out of the car before he can even turn to look at you, seatbelt long unbuckled in favor of dashing for the cows. They’re grazing aimlessly in their pasture, only a weak white fence standing between you and them.

“Hey- Hey!” Billy shouts, rushing to get himself out of the car. He’s panting slightly when he finally stands beside you, regarding you with an indignant look, “What the fuck was that about?”

“Cows,” You croon, sticking your hands over the fence and reaching for the animals, “Come pet the cows with me, Billy!”

One of them seems very interested in any potential snacks your hand might be hiding. Its large, wet nose bumps against your skin and you laugh, long and loud and free, letting the animal explore your scent and petting along its face when it finally realizes you have nothing yummy to offer it.

There’s damp bits of grass stuck to your arm from where its mouth nuzzles against you,, and its tongue is purple when it comes out to swipe along your skin. You shriek, the sound morphing into an elated giggle.

“Oh,” Billy’s nose wrinkles and he takes a step back, “Gross.”

“It’s not gross!” You insist, pulling your arm away to wipe the grass on your jeans, “That’s just what cows do. You’ve never pulled over to pet some?”

“No,” He scoffs, “That’s the most ‘country’ shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah,” You nod gleefully, and he thinks maybe you’ve misinterpreted the scathing tone of his voice, “Come on, Billy, come pet the cows!”

“No thanks,” He shakes his head, “I’m gonna go smoke in the car. Jus’ come back when you’re done.”

You let him head back to the car only for long enough to get a few more scratches in under the chin of a cow to your right. Then you beeline for the passenger’s side, and Billy looks surprised at your arrival.

“Done?”

“No,” You shake your head, reaching for your backpack, “I’m just getting my strawberries.”

“Uh,” Billy watches, apprehensive as you pull a plastic bag of the fruit from your backpack, “You’re not gonna feed those to the cows, are you?”

“Duh,” You nod, pulling the bag open and nearly ripping the seam, “Cows love strawberries, I feed ‘em all the time.”

“You what?” Billy looks at you like you’ve told him you’re made of the red fruit you’re holding, “You’re gonna stick your fingers next to those animal’s faces with food in your hands and you don’t think they’re gonna bite you?”

“No, Billy, cows don’t bite! Not like that,” You insist, hair flying as you shake your head. “I’m not gonna put my fingers in their faces, I’m gonna hold the strawberries on my palm. Then they can’t bite me. Come on, I’ll show you!”

“I’m not feeding cows,” Billy insists, but he moves to get out of the car anyway. When he’s standing at full height he rips the cigarette out from between his lips, blowing smoke into the road, “But I’m not gonna let you run off on your own and get mauled by some hunk of beef.”

“You’re totally gonna feed the cows,” You grin, eyes narrowed at him as you turn on your heel and head back to the fence, “You’ll see!”

You’re already jamming your hand under a cow’s mouth, a strawberry staining your palm red and sticky, when Billy saunters up to the fence. He watches warily as you let the cow nose at your fingers, then it sticks its tongue out to sweep the fruit off of your skin.

You giggle at the ticklish feeling, but Billy’s mouth falls open in horror.

“Oh,” He groans, nose scrunched and grimace strong, “That’s so fucking gross. Its tongue is purple.”

“It’s cool!” You insist, offering the cow a hearty rub between the ears as it munches on your strawberry, hand slimy with spit, “Is there much farmland in California?”

“A bit,” Billy shrugs, blissfully unaware of the curious cow sneaking up behind him as he’s turned towards you, leaning sideways on the fence. “It’s kind of a mix. We didn’t live anywhere near farmland, but sometimes we went to visit Susan’s-!”

Before he can tell you what random relative lived far out in the California farmlands, there’s a cow tongue in his ear.

He jolts away from the fence with a squawk, nearly toppling over as one hand comes up to cover his ear. You’re roaring with laughter even as you help steady him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his waist while he stumbles to a stop a few feet away from the fence.

“He was looking for strawberries,” You giggle, pulling your sleeve over your hand to wipe cow spit off of his cheek, “I think that was your official welcome to Indiana, Billy.”

“Laugh all you want,” He groans, smearing his own hand over his face to rid his skin of any residual slime you’d missed, “But if we ever make it to an ocean and you wipe out, I’m laughing at you.”

“Deal,” You grin sideways at him, another strawberry in hand.

Of course, Billy does end up feeding the cows. It takes another round of hand-holding, though, where you place the strawberry in his palm and flatten yours beneath it.

“Just be patient,” You murmur, feeling Billy’s hand tense as the cow noses at his fingers, “He just wants to say hi.”

“We’ve been acquainted,” Billy drawls, grimacing once more as the cow licks the strawberry off of his palm, “He tried eating the thoughts out of my head.”

“What thoughts?” You tease, but before you can gauge the situation and figure out whether you need to start running or not, Billy flips his hand over his shoulder to where you’re standing pressed to his back, and smears his sticky palm across your face.

“Oh,” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut and nose scrunched. You stagger backwards, nearly colliding with his car, “Gross!”

“Oh, really?” Billy roars with laughter, grabbing you around the waist and leaning his chin over your shoulder as he presses your back to his chest, “I thought it was an Indiana welcome! I thought it was cool!”

“Not when you do it!” You can’t help but laugh, trying desperately to hold the cracked pieces of your disgusted facade together, “You’re not as cute as a cow!”

You’re lying, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“And to think,” He scoffs, loosening his hold on you but not letting go completely, “I was gonna buy your movie ticket for you.”

You’d almost forgotten your movie adventure. You’d been so wrapped up in having fun with Billy, soaring down the streets with music blaring from the speakers that you’d completely ignored the way he’d driven miles away from any nearby movie theater.

“Hey, yeah,” You stiffen in his grip, turning your head to knock your forehead with his. You try not to pay attention to how close you two are, keeping your focus on his stunning blue eyes, “Why are we out here? The theater’s back that way.” You jerk your thumb behind you in the direction you’d came, and his face settles into a smirk once more.

“We’re not going to that shitty theater,” He boasts, “We’re going to a drive-in. It’s a few miles into the next town over.”

It makes sense, you suppose. He has a cool car, and what better place to show it off?

“I’ve never been to a drive-in,” You gush, excitement brewing in your belly, “What are the showtimes?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, finally letting you go to saunter back to his car and lower himself into the driver’s seat. You follow to the passenger’s side, tucking the empty plastic bag back in your backpack.

“We’ll catch something.” He reasons, hands finally back on the wheel as you shut your door and buckle your seatbelt, “People around here have nothing better to do, I bet there’s movies playing every hour.”

He gets started on the road once more, and you decide to let him drive uninterrupted. Although it hurts you to watch unpet cows whizz by the windows, you know you’ll be back too late if you keep stopping. When his tires crunch against gravel, then smooth over dirt, the unlit neon sign of the drive-in looms overhead. He leans out of the window at the counter, ordering a large popcorn and two sodas along with your tickets in that rough drawl of his.

He’s a bit rough when he stops on the asphalt, but that’s just how he drives. He’s used to driving recklessly, it’s not a habit easily broken. You hope you can help him live better, sending him a soft, sweet smile as he passes you your soda.

“This view good?” He glances over at you, hand already buried in the popcorn.

You nod emphatically, “Mhm! What movie?”

“No clue,” He lets out a huff of a laugh, “Does it really matter?”

“No,” You shrug, “‘Guess not.”

“It’s almost five,” Billy glances at his watch, “Are your parents gonna freak if you’re not home by dark?”

“They’re having dinner with friends tonight,” You recall relievedly, “They’ll probably be out way later than us. And they’ll just leave dinner in the fridge, they won’t know I’m gone.”

“Nice,” Billy nods, absentmindedly gnawing on a solid popcorn kernel, “My dad never goes out with friends. He doesn’t really have any, I don’t think. Susan does, work friends, but she’s probably not eager to show off her husband.”

He speaks about his dad with a bitter tone in his voice, words coming out brittle like they’ll snap if he tries putting any feeling into them. You hum in understanding; if your husband was like Neil Hargrove, you wouldn’t bring him around your friends either.

“You have friends,” You hum, “Don’t you ever eat out with them?”

“Uh,” He turns his head to stare expectantly at you, “Hello? Remember how I drove you a town over to see a movie, and I let you stop us halfway to stage a petting zoo?”

“I don’t mean me,” You gush, “Like, your other friends! The guys on the basketball team, or whoever you usually hang out with. That little crowd. You don’t go out with them?”

“Not really,” Billy shrugs, “They’re not my friends. Not like- um,” He drops his gaze to his lap, picking at the bucket of popcorn, “Not like you are.”

“Oh.” Is all you can manage, then you wet your throat to speak again, “They seem… no offense, shallow. Like- like they only talk about superficial stuff together. I’ve heard some of your conversations, I think.”

“Oh, so you’re updated on the riveting world of Hawkins High’s popularity pageant?” He scoffs, reaching for a cigarette, “Shit’s so stupid.”

“You say that from the top of the food chain,” You point out tentatively, “You don’t like it there?”

“It’s better than nothing.” He slows his attempts to self-medicate, hand frozen where he’s striking his lighter, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m not getting pushed into lockers. But, it’s like-” His fingers tighten slightly around the cig, jaw tight, “I got there because of what I have, not who I am. And not even that, I got there because of what it looks like I have. They think I’m some kind of rich kid ‘cause I have a nice car, but we’re lucky we don’t live in the trailer park. They think I’m mowing my way through the cheerleading team because they’ve seen us talking before. Sure, maybe I’ve flirted with a few, but-” His face darkens in frustration, nose scrunching slightly, “On the weekends, my dad makes me do shit around the house. And on the weekdays, I’m looking after my sister.”

You don’t point out his slip-up, how in a fit of passion he’s dropped the ‘step-’. It’s nice to hear.

“I have no time to sleep around,” He chuckles darkly, disdainfully, “Not often. But because people like me, or- or like what they think of me, they just assume I’m selling myself out for it.”

“It’s bullshit,” He concludes, huffily so, “It’s all bullshit. And it’s not gonna last past high school.”

A tense silence falls over the car after he’s finished speaking. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised anymore, not after two days of emotional curveballs from the man, but you think it might be the most you’ve ever heard him speak.

He looks nervous, fiddling with the keys in his ignition. Before he can regret opening up, you reach out to take his hand, pulling it away from the keys and linking yours into it on his thigh.

“I’m glad I’m your friend, Billy.” You confess, equal parts honest and tender. You want the words to soak into his veins, flow through his bloodstream and bloom sweet blossoms inside that light up his dark world.

“Me too,” He breathes, eyes glued to your intertwined hands as he tightens his fingers into the grip. As if on cue, the movie screen lights up, and it’s just barely dark enough outside to see the film.

“Here we go,” You settle in your seat, keeping your hand securely in his own, “Popcorn?”

Billy uses his free hand to pass the bucket over, and you can feel the heat concealed by the thick paper bucket hovering just above your hands. You munch on the buttery snack, a kernel already lodged in your teeth.

To Billy’s slight disinterest, it’s an old romance movie. He should have known, all that ever plays at these movie marathon nights are romances and beach flicks. He has a fleeting thought that he’d rather be watching women in bikinis, but it seems like something he shouldn’t think while holding your hand, so he pushes it away and tries to focus on the grainy, black-and-white footage.

The transatlantic accents and over-dressed main characters only hold his attention for a few minutes. But he’s family to Neil Hargrove, and he knows how to tune out a boring speech. He focuses more on the warmth that your hand pushes against his, sweet and soft and soothing like the blanket he used to get tucked in under at his grandma’s house. His grandma who knitted that blanket herself, just for him, and who slipped him strawberry sweets anytime his dad got too drunk to notice. And the way you hold his hand feels just like his mother used to, with her thumb stacked on his so that she could stroke it like you’re doing now. He’s only held his dad’s hand a few times, and he’s not able to remember much. He just remembers his mom had always dropped Neil’s hand in a big dramatic fashion, claiming that it was like holding a dead fish.

There’s nothing morbid about holding your hand, though. You’re not stiff and cold like his father, your fingers curve around his and mold to his skin. You not only reciprocate, you initiate, squeezing at a funny line or brushing over the back of his hand.

You’re all the best parts of the people he’s loved, and none of the bad parts of the ones he couldn’t. If he was any sleazier, he’d ask if it hurt when you fell from heaven.

You let out a particularly sweet laugh at a scene and the sound takes him back to only a few nights ago, sitting on his bed and feeling safe. He’d actually forgotten about his father until the man had stormed his bedroom, and he marvels at how you’d managed to suck the terrible thoughts from his head.

Your study session puts mitosis in his mind. Then biology, and he wonders if there’s ever been two organisms more compatible with each other. Personally, he thinks your biology is pretty basic: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

He’s broken out of his scientific reverie when your head falls to his shoulder. You throw a quick glance up at him through your lashes, silently begging for permission for something you’ve already done. His heart thuds in his chest as he watches you with curious eyes, and a slow nod of his head is all you need to settle against his side. You’re at an awkward angle, side arched over the center console to get your head to his shoulder. That makes it better, Billy thinks, that you had to work for it. It means you really mean it, that you’re not just doing it because it’s convenient. You’re loving him because you want to.

“Shitty movie,” Billy grumbles, his voice hoarse from its prolonged silence.

“Good popcorn,” You hum, reaching for another piece. Billy leans down to snatch it out of your hand with his teeth, and chews it with a growing grin as you chuckle.

“You’re a monster,” You tease, and a word that his brain usually whispers at him past midnight, loathing in his thoughts and venom in his veins, becomes nothing more than a nickname.

He thinks he wants to be your monster if it makes you laugh like that, all teasing teeth and careful manhandling.

You’re almost afraid you’ve insulted him with the title until he leans his head against yours, neck bent at an angle. His ear is pressed to the crown of your head, and just in case he can hear your thoughts, you think extra hard: I love you.

You last longer than Billy had, but you lose interest in the film, too. It’s not that it’s boring, it’s just not particularly interesting, and your brain is moving too slow for you to concentrate on careful dialogue. Apparently, the excitement of the day has caught up with you. Your eyes are starting to droop, and you think Billy might be able to feel your lashes flutter against his bicep. If he can, he doesn’t say anything, he just stays curled around you in his seat.

Slowly, second by second, minute by minute, you fall asleep. You drift away from the world and all that remains is Billy’s arm against your cheek, his hand holding yours. You don’t know if you’re fully sleeping or not, all you know is that Billy is the one constant between your life and your dreams.

Billy feels your breathing even out, the soft puffs of air that hit his arm soft and consistent. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but he lifts his head to peer at your face, seeing that you are, in fact, asleep.

He has the strongest urge in the world to kiss your forehead. He doesn’t, half because he’s scared you’ll wake up and think he’s a creep, and half because he’s not sure he’s capable of loving back. He’s taking it slow, and he’ll stick with leaning his head on you.

He does that until the movie’s almost over, and the romantic climax is shining on the screen.

The woman has fallen asleep on the man’s shoulder. They’re not in a car, they’re on a park bench, but her nose is nudged up against his bicep, too, and their hands are intertwined.

The man reaches up to her cheek, and so does Billy.

His hand is warm and slightly rough against the soft skin of your cheek, but it’s his warm breath against your face that wakes you. Your lashes flutter open, and the only thing you can see are Billy’s pretty blue eyes. You’re almost startled, almost caught off-guard, and then you notice the dark flecks of insecurity in them, ridged between peaks of blue like ocean waves.

He can’t speak. He’s paralyzed, eyes unblinking against your own, unable to ask, to tell, to beg. All he can do is stare, and hope that his hand isn’t shaking against your cheek.

He licks his lips, and you know what he’s trying to muster up the courage to do.

“Billy,” You breathe, soft and careful, “Are you sure?”

He manages to hum questioningly, but it’s a choked sound from somewhere deep in his throat.

“You’re speeding again,” You let out a breathy chuckle, but you raise your hand to hold his to your face, “Is this because you want me or because you think you’ll never get the chance to have me again?”

“I want you,” Billy murmurs, and the man on screen echoes his sentiments.

The woman on screen leans in, and so do you.

The kiss you share is unlike anything Billy’s ever felt. What he’s used to is prodding tongues, nipping teeth, below-the-belt grabbing, but this is new. This is the soft, dewy sweetness of lips barely touching, and the watermelon balm spread over your mouth. It’s tender in the way that you hold his hand to your cheek, and only made more so by the fact that you’re still holding hands between the seats. It’s less of an active kiss and more of an embrace, lips holding each other in place and noses bumping.

Billy’s never felt safer letting his eyes drift shut. At night there’s always the possibility that his dad will unlock the door in the middle of the night and take out insomnia-fueled rage on him. In his car he’ll get arrested for loitering. Now there’s nothing but you, and that’s all he ever wants there to be.

There’s muted claps from the other cars around you as the movie ends, and you choose to attribute the closing scene of fireworks to your kiss and not the leads’. When you draw away it’s with soft, content sighs, awestruck and breathless.

“I want you too, Billy.” You vow, more than happy to let him know he’s loved, “I’m glad we didn’t go to the front office.”

“Me too,” Billy breathes, leaning in to brush his lips against yours one last time, just holding them there as his fluttering eyes stare into yours.

The sound of revving engines breaks you out of your trance, and Billy pulls away from your face to look over your head. He’s still got his hand on your cheek, and you’re cradled to his chest as he watches everyone around you disperse.

“Let’s head home,” You murmur into his collarbones, kissing the skin there chastely, “You can stay the night at my house again, if you want.”

“I should get home,” He admits reluctantly, “My dad is probably still freaked about last night.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go back,” You hum, tracing the outline of a bandage through his shirt against his stomach.

“Me too,” He sighs, and finally lets your face go when the overhead lights to the lot flick on, “But we’ll get out soon.”

“Oh? Where are we going?” You settle back in your seat, turning to face him with curious eyes.

“California,” He smiles, and his genuine one is a breathtaking sight, “And anywhere you want to stop along the way.”

“That sounds perfect,” You sigh happily, head leaning comfortably back against the headrest. A yawn breaks through your lips and scrunches up your face, and Billy has to fight himself so that he doesn’t pull over and kiss the lines near your mouth.

The silence in his car is peaceful now, serene. There’s nothing left unsaid anymore, nothing hidden in your eyes and nothing withheld in your touches. You drift off to sleep wishing you were still holding Billy’s hand, and when you wake up, you are.

“Hey,” He whispers, squeezing your hand where his is interlocked with it, “Hey, wake up. You’re home now, we’ve gotta get you inside.”

“Hm? Oh,” You hum, bleary eyes taking in the outline of your house against the harsh beams of Billy’s headlights. “Thanks, Billy.”

“Uh-huh,” He nods, offering you a hand after you undo your seatbelt, “C’mon, if you can stand, I’ll carry you up to bed.”

You;re more than happy to let him sweep you off of your feet. He can feel your smile as you bury it in his neck, and he doesn’t even worry about shutting his car off and locking it before he pushes open your front door. Sure enough there’s tinfoil covered dinner on the counter alongside a note from your parents, and Billy marvels at how well they take care of you even when they’re not home.

“To the right,” You instruct him, realizing he’s only ever gotten into your room from the window outside, “And it’s the second door down.”

“Got it,” He murmurs, chin bumping your cheek.

Your bed is still unmade from that morning, and he yearns to slip beneath the covers again. He’s jealous when he tucks you in, and you’re glad you wore comfy clothing to school so that you can burrow under your blankets and not worry about changing.

“Goodnight,” Billy leans down, an inch away from your face, “Can I…?”

You lean up to do it for him, pushing your lips against his once more.

He melts into it, and the way that your nails scratch the hair at the base of his scalp only makes it worse.

“Goodnight,” You mumble, words wonky and misspoken against his lips, “I had fun today, Billy. I’m glad we’re friends, and I’m glad we’re more.”

“Me too,” He agrees, and the sentiments he’s agreeing to feel foreign to him. Five days ago he’d have been the least likely person on earth to have a friend, and now he’s got a partner to boot. In every sense of the word, he loves you, even if he won’t say those three words yet.

“Please be safe,” You cup his cheek, stroking over his slightly bruised cheekbone with tenderness he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to, “And if he hurts you again, stay with me instead.”

“I will,” Billy promises, dotting a dewy kiss to the side of your mouth as you settle into sleep, content with his safety.

He tells himself he’s just puttering around, throwing a stray sock into the laundry hamper and straightening a book he’d nearly knocked off of your nightstand on the way in. But really he’s waiting to make sure you’re really asleep, ring already slipped off of his finger and growing sweaty in his palm.

Once he’s sure you won’t wake, he peels back the covers on your bed, taking your hand in his. It’s got a familiar weight to it, a fact that he mentally celebrates, and his fingers shake as he slides the metal band onto your finger.

Having a ring to chuck in the garbage is gonna hurt a whole lot more when they leave, he reminds himself. Then, ‘If’.

“If they leave.” Your soft voice rings in his ears, and as he treks back to his car, revving the engine in the silvery light of the moon, there’s a feeling he’s never felt before rising in his chest. Hope: “Some people stay.”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 1 - AP Calculus BC

Long red hair swaying elegantly in the air with the gentle autumn breeze, as a young lady exited her car and walked down the school's parking lot, towards her classroom. Her passive smile was graced by a lovely shade of red as powerful as her hair, and the soft glitter of her pink eyeshadow made perfect combination with the dark eyeliner that highlighted her vibrant aquamarine eyes so lovely. Her school bag was hanging low down her shoulder, pressed down by a few lousy books, a notebook and some random crayons, making her outfit look a little disheveled, yet in no way less pretty - A pair of comfortable blue jeans and a black Tshirt sporting a grotesque imagery from one of Iron Maiden - The egyptian picture from the Powerslave album which had just come out. She couldn't name it her favourite album by far, but she had a soft spot for the "Rime of the Ancient Mariner", which she was humming to herself.

She wondered what kind of curse was she put on to start her last highschool year, on a Monday morning no less, with Double Maths of all things - Not that she considered the subject to be difficult, but more like, particularly boring quite like the teacher himself. It was quite bothersome, but at least it meant having almost 2 whole hours to doodle around in her plant glossary. She loved going in the forest to collect plants, stick them in her glossary, then draw them later, making sure to add medicinal properties and fun trivia - A personal project of hers, encouraged by her wonderful biology teacher - What a lovely old lady that one!

As per usual, she sat down at her lonesome desk and took out both her notebook and her crayons, ready to doodle at her heart's content while the other idiots were struggling to figure out what 2+2 is without using a calculator. One by one, all students gathered in the classroom after the bell rang, and awaited the teacher amidst continuous chatter.

Once the old man arrived, he was followed by a fellow young man that Miss Kitty Kat hasn't seen before - He must be a new student, she thought to herself, admiring him - Billy Hargrove, he introduced himself, coming from California - He looked absolutely beautiful. Eyes light blue like crystals and his hair long and fluffy, a lovely mix between dirty blond and a tint of ginger; His muscular body was toned and tanned, he graced a few pretty freckles on his cheeks; But what intrigued her the most was his outfit - Blue jeans, boots, and a dark red plaid shirt over a black Tshirt printed with the logo of the German rock band Scorpions. A man of culture and wonderful taste in music. She couldn't help but smile, seeing someone like him around. A spark of hope in her heart that she would finally have a friend with whom to chat with all day and hangout, like she sees in movies and comic books... If it wasn't too much to ask, that is.

"Class, this is Billy, as you just heard - He'll be joining on for the remainder of this terminal highschool year. I advise you all to take your classes seriously and get your grades up - The final exams are approaching, and your chances of being accepted into the colleges and universities of your choice depend solely on your performances. I wish you all the best." old teacher Daniel Johnson croaked in a rather weak voice - It was his last year as a teacher before he was retiring. "Billy, for now, you can sit next to Miss Black right there - She is my brightest student, I dearly encourage you to seek her aid if you need help with anything."

"Ergh - Thanks, I guess." Billy swaggered in the seat next to her and let the bag fall on the ground.

"Alright class, I'm not going to lie to you, this year, AP Calculus BC is going to be difficult - Though imperative for those of you who want to pursue careers involving mathematics, such as Engineering, Physics or even the ever-growing Computer Science." the old man coughed a little as the students all groaned in unison. "Let's start with a simple exercise - A remainder, for what we've studied the previous year."

"Wait, it's the first day and we're starting the workload already?!" Billy's expression looked completely crestfallen - He hadn't brought a single school thing. "Ergh - We didn't usually do anything on the first day, back in Cali."

"It's fine - Miss Black can give you a pen and paper." the girl did as instructed, ripping a page from her notebook and giving him a pen. "Alright - Let's see..." the old man opened a book and began writing with chalk on the blackboard.

Differentiate the following function: f(x) = x3sin(x)

Billy sighed to himself - He wasn't mentally prepared to go through this shit. He didn't think maths was necessarily very difficult (mostly bothersome), but he still had some few lapses here and there; He was no genius, but he worked hard to get where he wants - Go back to Cali and study Engineering. That fuckass who calls himself a 'father' would never be able to touch him there ever again. He would be free, and back home, where he belongs.

He looked to his right and realised, to his surprise, that the red head next to him wasn't even bothering with the math problem - Instead, she was drawing some very realistic flowers in her glossary - What was she doing in this hellhole of advanced math, if she liked plants? Wouldn't biology fit her better?

"Billy, are you done with the exercise?" the teacher asked all of a sudden, naming the newcomer.

The poor boy remained blank faced, incredulous - What the hell was wrong with this old bag anyway? Calling him out on his first day - What was that about accommodating someone in a new place? How annoying. "Eergh, not entirely. Halfway there I guess." he looked down at his ripped page, filled with scribbles, doodles and more letters than numbers. Yeah, not even halfway there.

"That's alright - Come to the board and let's do it together. I'll guide you where you're stuck." the teacher urged the boy - Urgh, Billy hated being seen as a nerd, but it was far worse being seen as a dumbass like the vast majority of his peers.

During his hesitation, he noticed a small piece of paper had appeared in front of him - It contained the solution to the exercise. He looked with wide eyes at the unbothered girl who kept doodling her flowers. "Sure, I guess." sticking that paper in his sleeve, Billy grabbed the chalk and started writing down - At the same time as figuring out what he was doing wrong himself. How could he be so inattentive? It really wasn't that hard of a problem - He shouldn't have fumbled so easily. "We, uh - X^3 becomes 3x^2... And sin(x) becomes cos(x)... That means... The derivate of the function is... The derivate of x^3 multiplied with sin(x)... So 3x^2 sin(x)... and we add it to the original x^3 multiplied to the derivate of sin(x)... So x^3 cos(x)..." and Billy wrote the end result, the derivate of the original function.

f′(x) = 3x2sin(x) + x3cos(x)

"Very good, Billy, nicely done! You've got a promising future ahead." the teacher's praise surprised the student, even making him feel rather bashful. He never did have a fatherly figure to praise him - This was a weirdly nice change, though one he wasn't sure he could easily accept it.

"... Thanks." he muttered, digging his hands in his pockets, yet holding tightly onto that slip of paper. The praise was undeserved - He cheated shamelessly.

"What do you want to pursue in the future, Billy?" the ever existing question... And his ever shameful answer.

"Engineering... I guess." he found himself answering truthfully.

"It's a well sought-after career these days - I'm sure you'll have a bright future ahead of you, young man!" Billy couldn't look at the teacher anymore; He had a weak smile on his face before swaggering back to his desk and slumping down, waiting for the break like crazy.

Time passed by so slowly watching those idiots fumble around, unable to do simple calculus; How did they end up in this class was a mystery for him; Still, the long awaited lunch break came by after 2 very long hours of torture and boredom; The red head packed up her things and swung the bag over her shoulder, exiting the class like an invisible phantasm, unnoticed by any.

Blinking, Billy crumpled up that paper and threw it in his bag, dragging it along him and throwing the pen in his pocket, trailing for the girl - There was no trace of beautiful carmine hair anywhere, and he was just standing there, lost and standing in the middle of the corridor. It wasn't long before a bunch of guys and girls started flocking around him begging for the attention of the next hotshot of the school, dragging him towards the lunch cafeteria.

He had a pretty okay meal, and he was glad he was noticed so quickly - He had to make a quick reputation as the cool guy; The alpha male around the campus - Just as his father would want. Still, the constant smothering from his colleagues wasn't too bad - He was shown around the place and introduced to people and told what he had to know about the place - Even the hazing ritual, come in the form of drinking beer from a keg at Tina's Halloween party. It was the perfect opportunity for him to affirm himself as the #1 guy in Hawkins.

Just as the break was almost over, he caught a glimpse of the peculiar red haired beauty sitting at the foot of a large oak tree and eating lunch from a wooden box... With chopsticks? They weren't even regular chopsticks, they were pink. Shaking off the people, he walked in front of the girl, his towering shadow obstructing the warm sunlight.

"Hello, Billy." her voice was soft and calm, so serene that it almost sounded like a siren speaking to him. "How do you like the place? Have those guys presented you a nice first impression?" she took a small piece of a dumpling with those chopsticks and delicately brought it up to her mouth. "Oh, how rude of me - I am Katrina - You can call me Kat for short." she introduced herself with a small nod of her head. "Have you eaten lunch? I can share with you if you want." she patted the spot next to her.

"Ergh..." he was a little overwhelmed with how overly nice and polite she was. "Kat - Okay. Yeah, it's an okay place, but it can't compare to Cali. I miss the waves and the sun." he admitted, plopping down next to her. "What's cookin', good lookin' ?" he offered a charming smile, getting closer to her; But his dazzling self was successfully dismissed by the girl.

"These are beef dumplings, these are spring rolls, and this is some fried chicken with rice." she turned towards him and took a bit of rice and chicken in her chopsticks, raising them up to his mouth. "Open up." although hesitant, Billy opened his mouth to eat the bite given to him.

His eyes widened a little, and he started chewing more vigorously. "That's good - Did your mum make this?"

"I did." she smiled, quickly taking half a spring roll and offering it to the boy to savour. "What about this - Is it to your liking?"

"You're a very good cook; Mum never made these things - Where'd you get the recipes?" he asked, silently begging for more; Kat's cooking was flawless, compared to what his biological mum, foster mum and the cafeteria food he's had before.

"My dad said these were grandma's recipes from back home. She would always pack up lunches for him and grandpa. They were both intellectuals, and she believed that a good nutritious meal would help them with their work and studies." Kat smiled, giving him a taste of the beef dumpling.

"I don't know about that, but I can tell you, this is very good." he received one more bite. "At least one good thing when you're stuck in this dumpster fire."

"You don't like it here much, I take?" the girl asked, not even once erasing that serene smile from her face.

"Hate it." he grumped, slumping his back against the tree. "I miss my Cali. I want to feel the hot sand beneath my feet, and have the cool waves break against me. I want the sun to scorch my skin, and play the guitar by the camp fire, with the wind messing up my hair." he sighed, defeated, before turning his head to look at her - She was smiling so beautifully, and her eyes were sparkling with interest.

"That sounds like a reverie, Billy! I would love to experience that some day also! No wonder you loved home so much." she hummed softly. "Although, I think I know what to say that would make you tolerate this place a little." he huffed, as if he wasn't believing her, yet still urged her to go on. "The air is fresh, the breeze is soothing on your skin, and the smell of the evergreen forest, especially when it rains, is so calming. Strolling around offers you peace of mind, and the landscape is magnifying. You can play rock ballads by the camp fire and harmonise with the choir of crickets, toads and nightingales. You can swim in the lake, or play in the ice-cold river. You can hear the rusty leaves scrunch under your boots in autumn, or the snow in winter. And the flowers - Oh, Billy, you should see how many gorgeous flowers and butterflies appear in Spring! The whole place is filled with so many vibrant colours! It's like paradise!"

The boy looked down at her; The girl was twinkling, emanating so much love and beauty, she was radiant like the morning sun. Not even once had he met anyone as positive and... Absent, in a way. It was like she's never met any bad thing in the world, and she was still living in a dreamy bubble. He... He felt absolutely stupefied to see someone that wasn't completely jaded, like he and everyone around him was. For some very odd reason he felt... A faint sense of protection over her innocence and kindness. "...Sure, doll, whatever you say." his silence and dismissive nature didn't seem to influence her smile at all. "I'll let you show me that."

"I would be honoured to!" and he thought she couldn't twinkle even brighter than she already was.

"Right." he cleared his throat. "What about popularity? What's a guy gotta do around to get the spotlight?"

"I don't think I'm the right person to ask, Billy, forgive me." she offered a sympathetic smile.

"Whadya mean, girly? You must be the most popular babe around!" he leaned in closer, bumping his shoulder into her own.

"Oh no, hardly! My only friend is Nancy Wheeler, but we don't really share classes. We hardly see each other these days. She's very sweet though! And incredibly beautiful - I think she's the prettiest girl I've ever met - And she's very smart too!" a girl hyping up another girl? That's a new one. "Oh, Barbie was also very sweet with me, but unfortunately, she disappeared last year. Very tragic incident. It's a shame, they never found her body."

"You're one weird girl, doll." he couldn't help but chuckle leisurely, and worry-free. "A'ight, listen; Gimme some pointers, and I'm taking you out for a milkshake at the drive cinema."

"Really?! You'd do that?!" the boy offered a dazzling smirk, and nodded his hair, those pretty locks getting even messier. "Oh, I can't wait! This Friday is a horror-movie marathon, because it's Friday the 13th, y'know?! They're going to show Friday the 13th, and Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and the new Nightmare on Elm Street! I heard they have discounts for combo deals - Coke, milkshakes, pizza, burgers with fries and popcorn! It's gonna be so fun!" she clapped her hands together full excitement, though her voice remained as soft and lovely as before. What a quirky girl. No wonder she wasn't popular - Few people wanted to stray away from the popular norm; Everything else was catalogued as freaks, nerds, geeks and outcasts. Shame; He really liked her vibe. She was far above the others.

"Okay, doll, okay, we can do that." he chuckled, waving his hand dismissively, before placing his arm over her shoulder. "Now, gimme some tips and I've gotchu."

"I think I've got an idea." with a vixen-like mischievous smile, Katrina quickly ate the last bit of her meal, neatly packed it back before throwing it in her bag; She hopped up to her feet and pulled the surfer up with shocking strength, and dragged him to the large gym where some guys were playing basketball. "You see that shirtless guy with fluffy hair? His name is Steve Harrington. At this moment, he's the king of the highschool. He is the most popular kid here, he has good grades, is the leader of our basketball team, and is said to be a candidate for one of our scholarships." she cleared her throat. "Also, he is a massive douchebag. He humiliated my friend, Nancy - They were dating last year, but got angry she wouldn't make love to him, so he got his groupie to bully her - They even wrote mean things on the cinema front, can you believe that? What ever happened to decent people." she rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I would do anything to see this guy face the same humiliation he gave others."

"Oh, yeah? What a fuck ass." he scoffed, leaning forward. "Yeah, he looks like a cunt." he smirked in triumph. "King Steve is going down."

"Thank goodness!" she chimed in happily. "You know - I heard he even cheated on Nancy with many other girls. He's awful!" she approached him to gossip in a hushed tone. "But I'll tell you one thing - None of his groupies are loyal to him - He's a little bitch with fame, but if you take that away, he'll have nothing and no one." she delicately placed her hands on his face, tilting it to an angle before showing him another guy and a cheerleader. "See those two? They are Tommy and Tina, the current IT couple. Tina is the lead cheerleader, the most wanted girl around, and super rich - All the best parties are held at her house. And Tommy is super buff and works out publicly, so everyone surrounds him to gawk at his physique." he loved this kind of gossip - Girly earned that movie date, and more. "If you win Tommy over, you win the whole school; And it's really easy - You already work out, so he'll respect that. All you have to do is keep good grades, join the basketball team and play shirtless, win a few matches - And most of all, with the Keg King title at Tina's Halloween party." she looked at him with a wide grin. "If anyone can do it, it's you." she continued enthusiastically. "And you know who is the current Keg King?"

"That pussy Harrington, huh?" she nodded affirmatively.

"Well, babe, prepare for the fall of a monarchy, because I'm a usurper - And I look far better with a crown on my head, and a pretty girl by my side." he brought her in a side hug, smirking down at her; She didn't seem to react in any way, either positive or negative - She was as passive and serene as always. Was she... Deflecting his flirting? Or completely immune? Could it be that all the complimenting of Nancy meant she was into pretty girlies like her? "Say, dollface, you've got a boyfriend?" she shook her head. "How about a girlfriend?" she shook her head again. "Not interested? School above all? Or strict parents?"

Kat simply shrugged her shoulders. "Nobody asked me before." that perfectly simple and serene answer kinda derailed him. There was no way a girl like her didn't have guys flocking around her constantly, fighting for her attention.

"Nah, no way, I don't believe you." she nodded her head, as if to confirm again. "Really?!" she nodded again.

"I recommend you don't hang around me too often - Your reputation is going to plummet if people see you around freaky 'Kommie Kat'." she advised, without the least bit of sadness in her voice.

"... Freaky Kommie Kat? The hell is that?" he frowned, leaning back, completely lost.

"I am a foreigner. My dad was Chinese, my mum was Russian - Both are communist countries." she explained non-chalantly. "I moved in Hawkins six years ago, you see - And when highschool started, I tasted a bit of popularity for myself - How old was I... 13-14 or something. Anyway - Steve was my deskmate in History, and I let him cheat off of me at a test, so he could get A like me. We became friend, and he introduced me to Nancy afterwards - We were together in literature." she smiled sardonically. "Steve asked me on a date soon after, and I told him I would be more comfortable if we were just friends, because I thought I was too young to date, you know? It was a new experience in a new place - I wanted to meet new people and discover myself." she chuckled emptily. "And, you see, Steve took that like a rejection - He got very angry and pushed me into the locker - Said I would regret saying no to him. I told him - What's so bad about being friends? And he says friends are for losers." what a jerk, Billy thought to himself, imagining an even younger and smaller version of the girl before him, being slammed into the locker like that. It made his skin crawl, remembering the way his father would slam his mum into the walls. "It's been years, and he still hasn't gotten over that - What Steve says is law; And when Steve said I was 'Freaky Kommie Kat', I was just that, to just about everyone in the school, otherwise, they'd get bullied until they stopped interacting with me."

"All of them, except that Nancy girl?" her smile became happier at the mention of her friend.

"Yes, she's very lovely, don't you think? If I see her around, I'll introduce you two!" she was twinkling again. "I think she hangs around Jonathan Byers now; He's pretty introverted, but not a bad person."

"A'ight, all the more reason to teach that little punk a lesson not to mess with my doll." he slapped his thighs before getting up. "Well, thanks for the help, babe; You more than earned that movie date." he helped her get up. "I'll go enroll in the team - See you tomorrow in Physics." surprisingly for the both of them, he kissed her cheek before leaving the gym.

There were a myriad of things going through their minds - Why did he do that, Billy asked to himself; He didn't want to date, he just wanted to have fun and get the hell over this shit terminal highschool year; He wanted to be Keg King Billy, and win over everyone, and then run the hell back to Cali and study Engineering... So why was he so attracted to this pretty girl? Was it because she helped him in freaking Math? Or because she fed him such fantastic food? Or because she was so kind with him? He hasn't had anyone so nice to him, without him offering something back in some way; It was always about his good-looks and charm, granted, he worked hard to look the way he does, and he was more than happy with what he's done; He was pretty sure his weights weight more than Kat - He could exercise with her instead. Oh, no, those were such weird thoughts in his head - Though he couldn't help but wonder, if her cheek was so soft, and he was encaptured by her sweet perfume so much - How would her lips taste? What lip gloss is she using? Was it cherry? He dearly wanted to know - Many, many times over.

Kat, however, was rooted on the spot, blushing a little - She's never had a boy kiss her like that before, and Billy was so handsome, charming and fun! He was so intriguing, and she wanted to spend more time with him - Was he giving her a chance? Did he want to be her friend? Hopefully, he wouldn't cast her aside after he's gotten his popularity crown, that would be very sad. Almost as sad as Nancy taking Steve's side and still dating him, in spite of how much of a jerk he can be. Not that it was her problem at all, she didn't want to destroy their relationship, but she also didn't like seeing Nancy so upset.

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦

The next day went like any other day for Kat, with the exception that Billy sat next to her in Physics. This time, he had a single notebook and a pen - He knew Kat would be carrying the textbook for the both of them anyway, and he didn't want to bother too much; He would end up forgetting what class he has in which day regardless, that's how much he cares. Unfortunately, just like the previous day, they started with the more difficult stuff right away, and once again, the students groaned in exasperation. No one wanted to deal with those difficult problems - And that one unlucky loser who would be forced to step in front of the class and humiliate themselves by being unable to solve that idiocy.

Physics class was an absolute drag, more so than math, if you could believe it. The old man's croaky voice droned on about Newton's laws of motion, and the chalk squeaked painfully on the blackboard. Billy sat at his desk, trying his best to stay awake. His mind wandered back to the beach in California, the waves, the sun, the freedom. He couldn't understand how anyone could stay awake during these classes. Still, he was well aware, Physics was one of the core classes he needed to ace, to be properly prepared for University. How annoying.

Next to him, Kat was doodling away in her notebook again, her red hair forming a curtain around her face as she sketched what looked like a complex diagram of some plant. Her aquamarine eyes flicked up to the teacher every now and then, but it was clear she wasn't really paying attention. Billy sighed, shifting in his seat, and his eyes caught on a small piece of paper that had been nudged his way. Kat's handwriting was neat and small, each letter perfectly formed into a small yet adorable message addressed his way.

< Bored c: ? >it read, a tiny smiley face next to the question.

Billy smirked, glancing at her. She didn’t look up, her attention seemingly focused on her drawing. He scribbled back a quick reply and slid the paper back to her. < You have no idea. How do you stay awake in this place? >

Kat's eyes flickered to the note, and a soft, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips. She quickly wrote something down and nudged the paper back. < Pretty flowers and daydreams. What about you? >

Billy leaned back in his chair, pretending to stretch as he took the note and wrote back. < Thinking about Cali. The beach. The waves. I'd be out surfing now. >

Kat's eyebrows rose in curiosity as she read his response. She shook her head subtly, and Billy noticed the slight sparkle of interest in her eyes as she wrote her reply. < Surfing looked amazing on TV! I want to hear all about it! >

He chuckled softly, enjoying this small rebellion against the boredom of the class. He scribbled back quickly. < Imagine this: hot sand under your feet, cool waves crashing over you, and the sun setting on the horizon. >

Kat’s eyes shone with excitement as she read his words. She leaned a bit closer to him, the edge of her notebook brushing against his arm as she wrote back. < That sounds like paradise. Take me there someday? >

Billy felt a weird twist in his chest at her words. He hadn’t expected her to be so open, so genuinely interested. It was... Nice. He scratched out a quick reply, his usual confident smirk softening into something a bit more genuine. Why did he actually feel something when interacting to this complete stranger? This wasn't like him, not at all. He was the playboy, the casanova, he could have anything and everything he wants... So why...? < Maybe I will, doll. Just gotta get through this hellhole first. >

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Students hurried to pack their things and leave, but Billy and Kat lingered a moment longer, exchanging one last glance before standing up. "Hey, dollface, I've got basket practice after lunch. Wanna watch me destroy King Steve?" he hung back by her side, picking her bag and placing it over his shoulder.

"Oh, I would love to! Only - Forgive me, I have never watched a basketball match before, and I have no idea what the game even is about, except an orange ball that you have to throw through a hoop." she chuckled softly. "Thank you for holding my bag, Billy, but you really needn't!"

The boy simply flashed a smirk, guiding her out by the very same tree the previous day. "Got any more of that super delish food?"

Kat's smile widened into a grin as she buried her hands in the bag, revealing a small blanket and two lunch boxes. "I had hoped you wouldn't stop wanting to see me overnight, so I prepared lunch for you also - And brought a fork for you, of course. I can't expect King Billy to eat with pink chopsticks painted with tons of flowers." she chuckled, patting the spot next to her.

For some reason, Billy's heart sunk; Buried underneath that gorgeous, hopeful smile of hers, a deep loneliness was revealed mixed with such a sweet voice. Why did he care so much? Was it because she tried so hard to be kind to him? Although, for Billy, everything she was doing seemed natural; He felt as though everything she was doing came so naturally to her - Her kindness was natural. And he felt like a moth gravitating around the flame.

"Y'think I'm that much of a brain dead sheep, that I'd stop hanging around a pretty girl 'cause dumbass Harrington set the trend?" he slumped down next to her, digging in his fantastic lunch. "Harrington has no clue what he's been missing on these years - If not your pretty face, this damn food would keep a man from walking away." this comment seemed to make the red haired girl hide her mouth with her sleeve, stifling a very amused chuckle.

"You are being very kind to me, Billy, Thank you." she nodded her head bashfully. "I just hope you won't come to regret it." the young man threw her a shady look and scoffed.

"Are you comparing yourself to those stinky cows, KitKat?" the girl couldn't help but gasp and start laughing - For once, the nickname was so cute - She's never had anyone use a nickname with her! And, for second - Did Billy just call their classmates 'Stinky Cows'?

"Did you just call our classmates -- Stinky cows?!" even just repeating that made the girl laugh harder.

Billy muttered, digging into the food. “Most of the girls in Hawkins are so dull. All they care about is gossip and who’s dating who. No one has any real interests." he continued. "And yes, they stink of very bad cheap perfume." he leaned a little to the side, close to her neck. "Yours is very nice and feminine."

"Oh, thank you, I'm glad you liked it! I worked two years to buy it! I found it on sale, so I managed to get two bottles." two years of hard work to get a proper perfume, and all those trust fund bitches and silver spoon rich fucks can't even find a proper fashion sense. "And - Yeah, I guess our classmates can be annoying and... Pretty plain! But they aren't all that bad - I think! I mean, at least this is the last year we'll see them, right?"

Billy smirked, taking a bite of a dumpling. “Well, it’s true. And don’t even get me started on the guys. Dumb as bricks, most of them. The highlight of their day is probably belching the alphabet or winning a pissing contest."

Kat giggled, shaking her head. “You’re awful, Billy. But yeah, I get what you mean. Sometimes it feels like we’re stuck in this small-town bubble and no one wants to break out of it.” she looked up at the bright sky. "I hope to travel the world some day. It's my biggest dream."

Big dreams for the future, from a little person like them - But what can a man do but dream of a better future built if their own hands, with blood, sweat and tears? "That's a nice dream to have." he nodded to himself. "Keep on dreaming, KitKat."

"What about you, Billy? What's your big dream." what a wonderful question with no real answer.

"No clue." Billy found himself spewing. "Haven't thought that far yet. For now, my only dream is to get that damn scholarship, move back to Cali and get my fucking degree. If I get that far, I'll think of something for the future." he grumbled under his breath. "I just wanna get the fuck out of this god forsaken place."

"You really hate this place that much?" her voice became sympathetic and filled with compassion.

"Bullshit city, yeah." he huffed, stuffing himself with more food. "But not only."

"I understand what you're trying to say." the girl smiled softly. "If you need anything, I'm here for you. Until then - I'll try to help make this year more bearable for you. How's that sound?"

Billy looked right into her eyes; His crystal eyes peered in the depths of her soul, piercing aggressively - Yet he was met with resistance coming from a veil of genuine care and worry for him. What a fool this girl was. Girls like her always end up bad - Not because they do anything wrong, but because the world fails them. Billy picked her chin, leaning in closer to her face. "Don't change who you are, dollface." he said, before letting go and getting up to her feet. "Now come, I'll delight your eyes during practice. Be a nice girl and cheer for me, will ya?"

"If you wouldn't be embarrassed by me being there, then I would love to!" she looked cute - As cute as a little kitten would look, nestled in large blankets.

Billy nodded his head at her to pack everything and get up; They headed towards the gym, where they went separate ways. Kat took a seat in the bleachers, her eyes scanning the court as the players warmed up, with Billy there in the lead. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished wooden floor and the thud of basketballs being dribbled filled the air. Billy and a few of his teammates were tossing the ball back and forth as they waited for practice to officially begin. He caught sight of Katrina in the stands, a confident smirk spreading across his face. He had planned to show off a bit, and he was determined to make a memorable impression.

When the whistle blew and practice started in earnest, Billy kicked into show-off mode, playing with swagger, his movements sharp and fluid. He dribbled, passed, and shot with impressive precision, each move showcasing his athletic prowess. Kat had no idea what she was watching, but seeing Billy playing so passionately made her smile brightly.

As the game progressed, Billy’s shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to his well-defined muscles. He could feel Kat’s gaze on him, and he made sure to put on a show. With each dunk and fast break, he glanced over to see her reaction, enjoying the way her eyes followed his every move. He could almost feel her enthusiasm and see those sparkling gems, even though she was sitting still and had no clue what she was watching.

At one point, Billy executed a fantastic slam dunk, hanging from the rim for a moment before landing gracefully on his feet. He looked over at Katrina, catching her wide-eyed, slightly awestruck expression. He couldn’t help but grin, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and mischief seeing her clap with such child-like glee.

During a brief break, Billy trotted over to the sidelines, his shirt discarded and his chest glistening with sweat dripping down his Adonis muscles. He wiped his face with a towel, his confident demeanor never wavering; He casually leaned against the bleachers where she was seated, his body language radiating both charm and casual arrogance.

“Hey, gorgeous. How’s the show so far? Living up to standards?” his hands were balled in fists against his hips, making sure his body was perfectly flexed. If even his body that had the appeal of a Greek God statue by Michelangelo couldn't make her at least blush a little, than he was sure, this girl was a lost cause.

Much to his pride and joy, however, he saw the girl smiling at him - And her cheeks were just a hue pink, like two beautiful peonies. Success. "I think you were fantastic! You totally threw Steve in your shadow!" she admitted, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to hide her admiration.

Billy’s grin widened, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Figured I’d give you a little private show.” he gave her a playful wink, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Is that so?” Katrina replied, her tone light and teasing. “And here I thought you were just a show-off.”

Billy chuckled, his eyes lingering on her pretty face and that glowing smile of hers. “Maybe a little.” he straightened up, his confidence unwavering.

"Then are we leaving the private show for some other time?" the girl's mischievous comment was hiding a most teasing innuendo that wasn't lost on the boy - In fact, Billy was quite shocked to see her completely natural and serene flirting with him. Did she even know she was flirting, or did she think it was purely friendly teasing?

"For you? Any time, any day, sweet cheeks." with a wink, Billy jogged back to continue the second half of their match and completely piss on Harrington and his week game. He was feeling even more energetic thanks to the pretty girl's evident appreciation of his skills - And physique, of course. The way he played with effortless skill and charisma was meant to impress her, and he could tell that he was flawlessly succeeding.

By the end of practice, Billy’s teammates were buzzing with excitement, their high-fives and cheers a testament to the intensity of the session. He returned over to Katrina, his chest still bare and glistening with sweat, and plopped down beside her. "Want a hug, doll?" he couldn't help but grin in amusement hearing her soft squeak and seeing her jump away from him.

"Take a shower first, and then we'll talk about a hug!" she was giggling all giddy and cute.

Billy’s eyes softened with a touch of vulnerability, a rare moment of sincerity amidst his usual bravado. “Wanna join? All hot and steamy.”

"Sorry - Too much testosterone and magical wands fighting." she giggled jokingly. "I'm more of a hopelessly romantic kinda girl. Not quite the norm these days, huh?" yes, of course she would be that kinda girl. A sweet girl who daydreams of an endless happy love story, of a Prince Charming carrying her around like a Princess. That type of perfect girl, Daddy's sweet little angel, who should never hang around fucked up and broken bad boys like him.

But didn't all guys want the good girl to go bad just for them? "I'll keep that in mind while I humiliate Harrington with my magic wand." they were such dorks.

Classes pass by fast, basketball practice was going smoothly, and Billy was gaining traction; His popularity was up there, his grades were up, and finally, his date night with Princess KitKat was approach. He had to get all done up and looking as charming as ever, his Cali magic couldn't fail him. He could get bitches all he wanted, that was easy - But he promised her a nice date, and hopefully, he wasn't too broken and screwed up to provide at least this little. Lord knows she deserved something nice in that lonely life of hers.

Next Chapter >

#Heaven's on fire #stranger things #stranger things x oc #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x oc

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thevestigeofvanillaan · 2 years ago

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♡Navigate My Page a Little, hm?♡

not relevant, in need of slots..

"VENGEANCE" Purple Era Navigation Center!

A Little Present For My Absence. (soundgasm links!!).

Butters Stotch x Reader with Nipple Piercings (request).

Audios/Twt Links.

...

Several Characters♡.

Stan x Reader x Kyle Part 1 (request).

Stan x Reader x Kyle Part 2 (request).

Kenny x Reader x Kyle oneshots (request).

Relationships with South Park Boys.

...

Characters in abc order!

Billy Hargrove♡.

Mornings with Billy (request).

Billy x Pregnant!reader.

Riding Billy.

After work with Billy (request).

Billy x Chubby!reader (request).

Disney with Billy.

Eric Cartman♡.

Hate Fucking Eric (request).

Can Imagine's.

Sucking Off Eric at School (request).

Pervy!Eric x Short!Reader (request).

Overstim With Eric (request).

69 With Eric.

Vamp!Cartman x Human!Reader (request).

James Patrick March♡.

Ten Years.

Kai Anderson♡.

What's Your Name? Part 1.

What's Your Name? Part 2.

Kenny McCormick♡.

Biology Class (request).

NSFW Headcanons (request).

Can Imagine's.

Mysterion x Insecure!Reader (request).

Dealer!Kenny x Reader (request).

Sexting With Perv!Kenny (request).

Kit Walker♡.

Dates.

Kyle Broflovski♡.

Can Imagine's.

Married Couple HC's.

"Not Cash, Baby".

Dominant/Jealous Kyle (request).

DILF Kyle oneshot.

Bestfriend!Kyle x Heartbroken!Reader (request).

Dom!Post-Game!Kyle x Reader (request).

Pervy Kyle Oneshots (request).

Dom Kyle Whimpering.

Kyle Breeding Kink.

Stan Marsh♡.

Hate Fucking Stan in Kyle's House.

Experiments.

Smut HC's.

Can Imagine's.

"It's Not Enough" (request).

Stan Finding Your OF (request).

Tate Langdon♡.

"I Never Stopped".

Fireworks.

#vanillaan #navigation #green era

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 1 year ago

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The One I've Been Waiting For {Part 03 of 13}

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Older!reader

Word count: 2 K

Summary: Billy Hargrove is just one of the many students you're supposed to help. The last thing you expect from your interaction is that he'll start flirtt with you... Much less that Billy would stir up feelings you'd rather keep hidden. Despite the mutual sentiments that soon enough start to grow, there are a lot of reasons for whatever it is to be left alone, and one of them is your age...

<- Previous part (02)

Next Part (04) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

A/N: In this story, reader is 5 years older than Billy, who's 18.

Walls Falling Down

You stand on the sidewalk, the sunlight chasing away the cold brought by the freezing morning wind. Part of you wanted to find an excuse, but the other part knows it's better this way. Once Billy sees you're not... Compatible... He'll let it go and all this nonsense will be over.

You hear his car before you see it, speeding through the street. He stops right next to you, and you take a deep breath before getting into the passenger seat. “Hey.” You mutter, looking at the backseat and smiling at the three kids. “Hello. I'm (Y/N).”

“I'm Maxine, Billy's stepsister.” The redhead girl says, gesturing at the smiley kid on her left. “This is Dustin, and this one is Lucas, my boyfriend.” At that, Billy scoffs.

“Nice to meet you, guys.”

“Why are you going with us?” Dustin asks as Billy starts driving. Fixing yourself on the seat, you buckle up.

“Billy invited me. And since I'm new in town I thought it'd be nice to see the quarry. Heard people talking about it.” As you speak, you notice how fast Billy drives.

“Ok but... With Billy?”

“Dustin, shut up!” Lucas whisper-yells, and you hear what could only be someone slapping someone.

“I was...” When Billy hits the road, he goes even faster. But you can't just tell him to slow down, so you close your eyes, running a hand through your hair and trying to resume your train of thought. “I was helping him at school and he invited me.”

“Oh, are you one of the tutors?” Lucas asks and you nod. “Cool. What do you teach?”

You barely hear the question, looking at the road ahead. Feeling a little dizzy and breathing deeply, closing your hands into fists. “Biology, I'm... I'm coursing Veterinarian Medicine at the Indianapolis University.” Your heart is drumming in your ears as you try to push back the panic, and the memories. “I just transferred to the new campus here in Hawkins.”

“That's so cool. I could be a vet too.” Dustin says, and you hear the smile in his voice.

“You alright?” Billy suddenly asks, and you quickly nod, not looking at him. “Ok.” He mutters, and you feel the car slowing down. Your heart slows down, and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

The rest of the way is filled with the kid's questions. They're into science, this much you know, and they liked that you're in that area too, mostly because you want to specialize in the laboratory field, with the research. It doesn't take much until you reach the quarry. There's another car there, with the rest of the kids, and Max, Dustin, and Lucas run to join them.

Max introduces you to the others, and also to Jonathan, the second driver, Will's brother. They all get along with their stuff, taking whatever they brought into the woods. Billy doesn't seem like he'll follow them, so you two stay alone near the cars, and you rest against the Camaro's hood next to Billy.

“You got nervous on the road.” He says, getting your attention. “You were in a car accident, weren't you?”

How did he get there so fast? “What gave it away?”

“You got pale, clenched your fists, and started bouncing your leg.” He says, and when you look at him, you find him already staring. “Was it how you got that scar above your lip?”

Billy was paying attention. “Yes.” Touching your lip, you caress the skin. The scar is small, a tone lighter than your skin. “I was twelve. My uncle was driving, and to impress my little brother he was going very, very fast. My grandma was there too, asking him to slow down but he didn't listen.” Taking a deep breath, you lightly shake your head. “There was something wrong with the breaks so he hit a tree. It was... Bad, very bad, and... I got this and a nasty cut above my right knee but... My grandma died on the impact and my little brother didn't resist the wounds.” Your voice is lower now, barely a whisper. Wiping off a stubborn tear that rolled down, you look up at him again.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N).” Billy sounds honest, with no trace of that bad boy act he puts on most of the time. He seems... Sad even. “I didn't mean to bring sad memories.”

“It's alright... It's just part of who I am, I guess.” Moving away from the car, you cross your arms, taking in the woods and the quarry, the water reflecting the light blue shade of the clear sky. “It took me some time to even start driving. Didn't get my license until I was eighteen and I'm super careful with everything.”

“My mother left.” He suddenly says, and you both start moving, getting closer to the water.

“Why?” Billy doesn't say anything for a while, and you know you shouldn't have asked. “You don't have to answer.”

“Neil is a freaking nightmare. So she couldn't stand it anymore and left.” There's pain in his voice, and you curse yourself for asking. “Guess that's part of who I am too.”

Touching his arm, you give him a small, sad smile when he looks at you. “I see you have a complicated past too. Sorry.”

Billy's eyes are calming, like the quarry. And blue as the sky. You have to raise your head a little to look at him. “We both have a troubled path. One less thing barrier between us.”

Giggling, you roll your eyes, setting in motion again, walking near the water. Despite not wanting to go back to that subject, you're glad to leave the sad memories behind. “Well, there's one barrier you can't take down.”

“The age.” He sighs, giving you a glance. “What's your problem with the age? You're older but I'm taller.” To prove his point, he moves to stand before you, forcing you to stop. “Just in case you haven't noticed.”

Of course, you noticed. But this time he stands closer, his chest almost touching yours. So you step back, biting your lip and looking down. “Yeah, you're tall. I got that.”

“So what's the deal with the age? Are you into older guys or something like that?” He starts walking backward, just a few steps until he's walking beside you again.

“No, that's not it.”

“Then what?”

Too many questions you don't want to answer. “It's a small town, Billy. People talk and I don't want them talking about me.”

“Oh, yeah. You overthink.” He chuckles, lightly elbowing your arm. “To hell with what people may or may not say. This isn't about them, it's about us.”

“There isn't-” You're cut short when your foot slips, making you lose your balance for a moment, and if it wasn't for Billy's strong arms, you'd have fallen. “Whoa.” You gasp, holding on to his biceps.

“Careful, Princess.” He says with a smile, and, blushing, you clear your throat and step back, straightening your clothes.

“Thanks.” Catching your breath, you start walking again, back to where the cars are parked.

“See that over there?” Billy gestures at the other side of the quarry, and you spot a cliff. “If gives an amazing sight of everything. Wanna go there?”

Giving him a glance, you think about it. The places on your skin he just touched you are burning, and you wonder if that's just your mind playing tricks on you. This can't happen. This... Just isn't possible. Not for you. Billy is eighteen. Too young for you. If you were a bit younger, or him a bit older, maybe you could give it a try. But life is what it is, and there are things you can't change.

“Just so you can see it.” He speaks, and you notice you didn't answer him. “You don't have to make a big deal out of it. We'll be just two regular people hanging out.”

Sighing, you nod, following him to his Camaro. There's no need to turn this into something big. No need to see what doesn't exist. You know guys like Billy. They get tired soon after they see they can't get what they want. And since you won't give that to him, you know he'll get bored eventually, so there's no harm in going with him to a cliff.

Don't make a big deal out of small things, you tell yourself.

And Billy was right. The view is amazing. From up here, the quarry seems to be the most perfect shade of blue, and the woods are a perfect frame for it. You can see the kids down there, and you wave at them. Getting as close to the cliff as you can, you look down. It would be a hell of a fall.

“Damn, that's high.” You say, bending over a little.

“Yeah, don't do that.” Billy pulls you by the arm, making you give a few steps back. “What do you think?”

“It's beautiful.” Smiling, you look around, breathing in. “I've lived in Portland my whole life, so this is an amazing change.”

“Big city girl, huh?”

“Definitely. But I'm adapting well.”

“Why the hell did you come to this dipshit place?” Billy asks, and by the tone of his voice, you can tell he has no love for the town.

“My grandmother lived here.” The moment you say it, his face changes.

“You don't have to tell me.” He assures you, an apologetic look on his face.

“It's alright.” Walking back to his car, you lean against the door. “She always told me she'd bring me here one day, to know the town she grew up in. But that never happened so I wanted to come. When I found out that Indianapolis University was building a campus here, I decided to do this. So the moment my course started on the new campus I transferred.”

“You plan to live here? After college?”

“I don't know. The plan so far is to live here while studying. After... Not sure yet.” You find a big, flat rock on your left, walking there and sitting on it. From here, you can see the cliff, and part of the water down there. “You?”

“The moment I finish High School I'll drive back to California.”

“Oh, you're from Cali.” Crossing your legs, you look at him with a smile. Billy stands next to you since the rock isn't big enough for both of you. “Did you live near the beach? I always wanted to live near the beach. I think I'd go every day, it doesn't matter the weather. Just to look at the ocean.”

“Yes, I did.” There's a smile on his lips, the type of smile that tells you a story by itself. California is his home, and he can't wait to return. “It's beautiful. We wake up and go to sleep with the smell of salty water. The summers are very hot, so the beaches are full of people until late at night.”

Hearing him say these things makes you feel like you're there. “It sounds amazing. But why did you come here? California and Hawkins are completely different.”

“Neil's new wife.” He sighs, and you can feel the anger irradiating from him.

Grabbing his forearm, you offer him a small smile when he looks down at you. For some reason, you don't like to see him sad. Well, you don't like to see anyone sad, but this time is different. There's another feeling on top of that, which will remain unnamed since you don't know what it is. “What matters is that you'll go back.”

“I guess you're right.”

“My brother would like to live near the ocean. He wanted to work with whales and dolphins so I think he'd love to live in California.”

“What was his name?”

“James.” You say with a smile. “He was a nice kid. The moment he was born, he was my baby.” Chuckling to remember him, you look down at your hands. “I wasn't a very responsible child, but with him, I was almost an adult.”

“Why do I have the feeling you want to have kids one day?”

Biting your lip, you nod, getting up and gesturing at the bottom of the quarry. “And speaking about that, we should get back to them.”

“As you wish.” Billy starts moving to the car, and you're quick to follow.

You can't help but notice he drives much slower than before. Maybe it's just a kindness after you two shared part of your lives.

The rest of the morning goes by slowly. You and Billy chat more, watching the kids. It's almost midday when they're done, and Billy drives you home after dropping Dustin and Lucas off.

You leave the car after waving at him and Max, but when you're halfway to the front door, you notice him following you.

“What?” You ask, resuming your walking and stopping by the door.

“Nothing.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Just wanted to say that I had a nice time. At daylight. Even though the kids were involved.”

“We just spoke about sad things.” Playing with your keys, you mutter.

“Yeah. I never spoke about my mother with anyone. Ever.” Billy gets serious, so you look up at him. He really meant what he said.

“It took me years to speak about the accident. About grandma or Jimmy.” Sighing, you put a strand of hair behind your ear. “I couldn't even think about it. Couldn't get inside a car, couldn't see anything that reminded me of them, and, well, everything reminded me of them. Mostly Jimmy because he lived with me, so... I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. It just feels like–”

“Like we can share our pain with each other because we both know exactly how it feels to lose someone?”

Weakly, you nod. You never thought Billy Hargrove could be this... Deep. He comes out as an angry guy, who hates everything and everyone, getting all the girls he can just to show he can. But there's another side of him, more... Human. “Yeah. I....” You gesture at the door. “I gotta go. I have paperwork to finish today and I'll go out with some friends tonight, so...”

“Have fun. But don't do anything too crazy.”

“I won't be with you, so nothing crazy will happen, Hargrove.” Giggling, you take a look at the Camaro, finding a very curious Max looking at you. “We're being watched.”

“That little piece of shit.”

“Hey!” You immediately snap. “Don't say that about your sister.”

“She's not my sister.” He justifies, looking back at you.

“It doesn't matter. She's your sister now and it's your job to take care of her.”

“My job?”

“Yup.” Nodding, you unlock and push the door open. “See you around, Billy.” With a smile and a wave, you close the door.

Being finally out of his sight, where these blue eyes can't find you is good. But weird. You also had a good time, and you weren't expecting that.

The truth is you were expecting him to act like a teenager, rude and superficial, and you were waiting for the right time to talk him out of... This. But the time never came. Actually, you completely forgot that was your plan in the first place.

“Dear God, what's going on with me?” Breathing out, you go for your phone, dialing Tanya's number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tany. It's (Y/N).” You say, leaning against the wall. “Think you can come over a little earlier? I need to talk.”

@aunicornmademedoit @alexa4040 @goth-cowgirl-03 @nyctophilic0vitnir @minispice-1

#stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

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