#also will never get over I could’ve watched Billy the kid earlier because I saw a still of ALEX ROE NOT TOM

[spideyhexx]

SHUT UP yes I did… watched The 5th Wave just for him 💀

MR ALEX ROE IS IN THAT

[kendallroydefender]

Christmas with you (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

It was Christmas break and you had come home from college. After catching up with your friend Steve and spending time with your mother you now were in your old bedroom about to go to sleep. You looked outside your window when something caught your eye, the familiar camaro was parked at the other side of the street infront of your house. The car you’ve spend a lot time making out in with Billy in your last year of high school. You and Billy used to date for a little over a year but broke it off before you went to college. You hadn’t stayed in touch but Steve told you about what had happened, Billy being possessed by the mind flayer and that somehow he survived. You missed him a lot actually. But what was he doing here? You pulled on a Sweatshirt and slipped in some shoes before you quickly went outside. Getting closer to his car you saw him and it looked as if he was asleep, softly you knocked on the window and he got starled, quickly adverting his eyes on yours. He rolled the window down "Hey.“ "Billy what are you doing here?“ he looked to the side for a second and you saw the light purple bruise forming on his cheekbone "Oh..“ you gritted your teeth in anger, knowing exactly why he was sleeping in his car "It’s nothing“ he said in a low voice. You laid your hand on the rim of the window "Billy, come inside please.“ you said soft "Y/n it’s okay, really.“ he tried to argue "It’s winter and I’m not going to let you freeze outside my house.“ he looked at you for a moment knowing that you wouldn’t let it go anyway. He sighted before rolling the window back up and getting out of the camaro. He followed you silently inside. He sat down on your bed, looking around your room, memories rushed back to his mind of how he sneaked in trough your window in the nights after events similar to what happened earlier this evening. "Here“ you said after rummaging through your drawers, he looked at what you held out towards him and smiled "You still have it?“ he asked nodding his head at the Shirt you held out, his shirt and you nodded blushing a little before your eyes landed on his wirst "Guess I’m not the only one who hold onto things.“ he smiled when his fingers played with the small leather band around his wrist that you gave him on his birthday he gave you one of his smirks. Billy changed into the shirt and pulled his jeans off, leaving him in his boxers. You laid down on your bed waiting for him to follow - what he did hesitating but when he laid down and the covers were pulled over your bodies you felt him relax next to you. And soon you two fell asleep.

Billy woke up the next morning, slightly confused on where he was but then he recognized the familiar room and felt you curled into him. A smile crept onto his face. Feeling you so close to him again made him realize how much he actually missed you. You opened your eyes slowly blinking at him before your lips turned into your a smile matching his own. "Good mornin‘" you mumbled sleepy before yawning "you hungry?“ you asked and he nodded slightly "A little.“ he answered. You got into the kitchen and started to make some eggs, Billy followed quickly. It was nice how easy you two fell into your pace again, it made you wonder how it would be if you haven’t broke up. "What are you doing today?“ you asked "Promised Max to go to the arcade with her.“ Billy said after swallowing. So it was really true what Steve had told you - that after what happened his relationship to his sister changed completely for the better. "When are you coming back tonight?“ you grinned at him "I really don’t want to bother you.“ he shook his head "Billy.“ You said sternly "Y/n." He answered matching your tone "You don’t bother me." He didn’t answered "Billy" you whined what earned a chuckle from the blonde man infront of you "Okay okay.“

You two laid in bed one night when a question came to your mind "Uhm Billy?“ he hummed in response "Why were you in this street?" His brows furrowed "What?“ "The first night, you could've drove anywhere in Hawkins. Why here?“ his eyes met yours briefly before he stared at the ceiling "I don’t know. I just drove around and ended up here. It seemed right, this street was always a safe place.“ You nodded at his confession "You- This house was always more of a home to me than my actual home.“ he added and you shuffled closer to him laying a hand on his chest "Thank you for trusting me. For telling me this.“

you smiled at each other for a second before he kissed the top of your head "Goodnight y/n.“

It was two days before Christmas now, you two had spend the most time of the last week together and he slept at your place regularly. Billy was happy that you let him stay the nights. He enjoyed your company more than spending time with anyone else, with you he could just breathe. With you he didn’t had to put on his reckless guard that protected him from others seeing how broken he was. With you he also didn’t had to be on alert, he could just be Billy and was accepted for just that. You two sat on the roof infront of your window, clothed in sweaters and a blanket on each of your laps. "You know what happened last summer right?“ he asked into the cold night air "Yeah Steve told me.“ you looked into your neighborhood "I- I was there the first two times it appeared..“ you mumbled thinking about the two times you were part of the group that had fought against the upside down "We thought it was over. If I knew that you were in danger-" he shook his head rapidly "Y/n none of this is your fault, okay?" It was quiet for some time "Are you going to celebrate with your family?“ you asked, he shrugged, blowing out smoke of his cigarette "I don’t think so, my Dad made clear that he wouldn’t be exactly happy about that...“ He was silent for a moment before you spoke up again "You can stay here.“ his blue eyes met yours "No, no it’s okay I don’t want to disturb. I��m just gonna go to bennys.“ you reached out to touch his arm "Billy you wouldn’t disturb, you know I don’t have that much family left so it’s just going to be me and my mother anyway. And maybe my uncle Dave, if he makes it.“ he was about to say something before you got up "I‘m going to ask my mom now okay? And if she says yes will you stay? Please?“ you asked and he nodded "Okay but only if you’re all okay with it.“ you disappeared through the window, leaving Billy staring into the night sky. You came back after a short time "She said yes and that I have to tell you that you’re always welcome in the y/l/n household.“ you smiled at him, no matter how wary your mother was when you started dating Hawkins Bad boy she warmed up to him when she saw you two together and how you always had a smile on your face because of him. She was shocked when you told her later what happened at his home. "Thank you.“ Billy said and you answered a honest "Always.".

On Christmas Day you and Billy helped your mother prepare food, laughing in the kitchen together felt like old times, it wasn’t the first Christmas he spend at your house. In a quiet moment when you were alone with your mother, billy was calling Max to wish her a merry Christmas, she asked you "So... you and Billy?“ you felt heat rise to your cheeks "There’s nothing. We’re just friends.“ you looked down "But theres still love. From both of you.“ your mother told you with a smile. Your Uncle who lived in the next town arrived and you ate together, he talked to you and Billy about your college and plans. You gave each other presents and at night and after your Uncle went home again you sat on the couch cuddled against his side, your mother on a retrainer next to you two and watched some Christmas movie. "I think I’m gonna call it a night kids.“ your mom announced and after wishing you a good night went upstairs. After a few minutes of silence, just watching the movie Billy cleared his throat "Hey y/n?“ you looked up at him showing that you were listening "I have something else that i wanted to give you.“ you raised your eyebrows "But I thought it would be better to give it to you when we were alone.“ he went up into your room before returning with a small box in his hands, giving it to you after sitting down next to you again. You read the box "Screws?“ You asked confused, he chuckled "it was the only box I had, open it.“ he looked kind of nervous, wiping his hands on his pants. You opened the box and gasped, in it was a golden necklace with a small heartshaped pendant you turned it and on the back of the heart was a little B engraved "Billy, it’s beautiful.“ you smiled at him "My mother gave it to me when I was little..“ your eyes widened "She used to say that someday I will meet someone that will make me feel like , like I’m coming home. Of course I didn’t believed her because I was a kid and thought girls were disgusting. But turns out she was right after all...“ a watery chuckle left your lips "Are you sure that you want to give this to me?“ you asked him and he nodded "One hundred percent. I know that I will never feel the way I do about you for anyone else. I think, no I know that I love you and if you don’t-" you interrupted him with a kiss "I love you too Billy Hargrove.“ you mumbled after you parted and he smiled as he kissed you again.

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 5

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon except for a few random points mentioned this time. It’s mainly fluff, lemon zest 🍋 and a bit of angst. There’s also some Billy POV in there. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

A grin curved his lips upwards, “How d’you like your eggs in the mornin’, ma’am?”

“Over easy,” you grinned back. He tapped his shoulder a couple of times with the kitchen spoon, “Ummm.. how about scrambled? And then I’ll give you the “over easy” version afterwards.”

That damn smirk of his, you thought, it’s downright dangerous.

The two of you were sitting at your kitchen island, eating breakfast. The scrambled eggs were really tasty, you complimented him. He’d preened a little, “I’m quite a good cook, sweetheart,” he said, “learned how to look after myself quite early on in life.”

Suddenly he put his fork down, and looked over at you. His face was serious, and you saw some sadness in his eyes. “My mother abandoned me when I was a really young kid. She was a junkie, and couldn’t look after herself never mind me, so I suppose I should thank her. I’d probably be dead otherwise. Got put in a group home, stayed there until I aged out and went straight into the Marines. And got my degree on the government’s dime.”

Your hand moved to cover his, “Billy, you’ve done so well, and you’ve achieved it all on your own. I’m proud of you, and I hope you’re proud of yourself too.” He beamed at you, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Yeah... yeah, I am. Thanks, angel, I appreciate you sayin’ that. I wanted to tell you about it, wanted to be honest with you. In case when you saw the suits, the car, the penthouse and all, you thought I was some kind of privileged trust fund kid.”

He looked down, “There’s a stigma about growin’ up in the system, y’know? I wanted to get it out on the table so you know who I really am and where I came from.”

“I don’t care about that, Billy.” He nodded, thumb stroking your hand which was still on top of his. “I really hoped that you wouldn’t ... but I wanted to be sure, and I’m really glad you feel like that. Also I needed you to know that I’m bein’ honest with you.”

You thought you saw a closed-off look on his face for a moment, but then it was gone and he smiled over at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You had spent the rest of Sunday together, lazing around, watching various shows on Netflix before venturing out for a late lunch to a local diner. Billy had eventually headed home after another steamy session in the bedroom, regretful about not spending the night, sighing that he had a really early start in the morning, a ‘job’ he couldn’t tell you anything about.

He’d explained a bit more about his work earlier in the day while you were eating in the diner. How a lot of it was classified as it was military or political in nature, so he couldn’t go into detail. You’d nodded, and said you understood. But you’d asked some questions nevertheless; how many of the assignments did he go on himself, just how dangerous they were, had he or his men ever been injured.

You got the impression that, although he couldn’t tell you much about who was involved or why they needed protection details, he was pleased you were showing an interest in his work.

The two of you agreed that you’d meet up during the week, Billy saying he’d text you to confirm when and where as he wasn’t sure how long this job would last, maybe at least a couple of days.

He’d insisted on putting his numbers into your phone himself, so you’d unlocked it and handed it to him, wandering back to your bedroom to put some more clothes on. Shortly afterwards he’d kissed you long and hard and made his way downstairs to his car, and you’d watched from your balcony as he drove away. Then you’d laughed at yourself - you were acting like some medieval damsel watching her knight disappear off to war or something.

Sliding the glass door closed, you went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. The apartment suddenly felt very empty without Billy in it. How quickly you’d got used to him being there.

You wandered across to the sofa with your newly-poured glass of wine, noticing your phone on the coffee table. Oh yeah, Billy had added his numbers. A sudden twinge of insecurity hit you. What if he hadn’t actually put his direct numbers in there, and just pretended to? You sat down, looking at it lying there. I mean, it wasn’t like you couldn’t track him down at Anvil, but you would no doubt have to go through a receptionist and you could be endlessly stone-walled.

You eventually picked up the phone and unlocked it. Scrolling to your contacts, you suddenly burst out laughing. Billy had put his numbers in there and had also taken a selfie, him smouldering into the camera. He’d attached it to the contact details with a description.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy drove away from her apartment, truly wishing he could’ve stayed over again.

But then he’d shaken his head slightly, laughing to himself; she’d definitely got one thing right - he was a big sap. Since when did he find himself almost playing house with a woman? Telling her she was his girlfriend - as she’d put it - after five minutes? He was a one-and-done kinda guy!

But then Billy Russo admitted to himself that something had hit him smack in the heart when he’d first seen her, sitting there looking stunning and somehow fragile with that creep trying to come onto her. Well turns out she wasn’t fragile in the least! However when those beautiful eyes had met his... well, he was a goner. Solid gone. And then he’d pursued her like a lovestruck idiot.

He hadn’t ever seriously thought about love. Or believed in it, for that matter. Certainly not when he’d been bedding all those women when he’d been on leave or since he’d left the Marines. All that shit just wasn’t for him. And now? Yeah, not so sure.

Billy almost felt like he was under some kind of spell, it had hit him so quickly. Yeah, like she’d enchanted him or something ridiculous, straight out of a Disney or Harry Potter movie. Was this love, then? His stomach clenched every time he saw her, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanted to be with her all the time, hell he was even jealous of Jake though he wasn’t a threat. Was he? No, surely not. And what about Steve, the other one? Yeah, there he was doing it again - unreasonable jealousy.

And when they’d first slept together, he felt like he’d finally understood what making love meant.

Billy Russo, who until a few days ago had spent most of his leisure time in life actively fucking women - how he’d always described it to himself and others - was now a confirmed big sap. He chuckled to himself.

He suddenly remembered ripping the shit out of a young Marine in his squad who’d come back off leave totally besotted with some girl. The kid had confessed (stupid move) to all the guys that they’d made love, a distant and dreamy look in his eyes. At the time, Billy had scoffed at him and endlessly humiliated him about it. In an affectionate way of course, he told himself.

But he felt guilty about that. Who’s the one with the distant and dreamy gaze now, Russo?

In all truth, Billy felt like he was having some kind of out of body experience. As if Previous Billy Russo was looking down in horror at his new self, yelling at him to get his fucking head back on straight. But New Billy Russo wasn’t listening because, well because he realised he liked feeling this way.

And he thought that she felt the same. He knew she was fighting it and wouldn’t admit anything to him, but there were little tells that had given her away. He decided he’d stay on his best behaviour, just keep trying to win her over, and he felt in his bones that they would be together.

But he did feel a sting of guilt. He had been honest with her, but he’d also been selective with what he’d told her about Anvil, how it all started, and this ongoing shit he and Frank were still embroiled in. One day... one day, and hopefully soon, he could tell her absolutely everything.

His phone, clipped to the dash, vibrated.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the caller ID, hit the button and answered it.

“Dinah... what can I do for you?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You, meanwhile, had just finished your second glass of wine and were admitting to yourself that you were really missing Billy. Oh this is bad, your brain yelled at you, very bad. You’d only known this guy for a few days and you were falling for him. Or - okay - had already fallen for him. It scared you, quite honestly.

He was charming, funny, handsome, sexy. An amazing lover. He’d been disarmingly honest with you about his past, but... but what? Why was there a ‘but’? Because there was something niggling at the back of your mind. Just a couple of expressions you’d seen on his face, quickly gone. An indication of more happening just underneath the surface than you knew about. Billy had a distinct air of danger about him, and you wondered what else was going on inside that dark head of his.

You’d fallen for him, yes... but you were also going to remain wary of him, until you were certain you knew everything you could about him.

Reaching over and pulling your laptop towards you across the coffee table, you typed Billy’s name into Google.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning, Billy parked his car and walked into Anvil. His reception staff wished him a respectful Good Morning, he nodded to them and headed upstairs to his office. Frank was already there, reading a newspaper.

“Mornin’ Bill,” he said, looking up. “Frankie,” nodded Billy, “want a coffee?” and kept on walking towards the coffee machine in the corner. “Nah, just had one, thanks.”

He poured out an Americano for himself, then chuckled loudly. Frank quirked an eyebrow at him, and Billy shrugged back. “I met someone last week. She owns two cafés, and she’s a coffee snob. Gonna refine my palate, she said.”

Frank looked back down to his paper before commenting, “I’m impressed you know that much about her, Bill. Didn’t think you bothered cos you usually cut & run.” Billy smirked, knowing he couldn’t dispute what Frank had just said, but he was going to enjoy the next slice of the conversation. Even just to see the expression on Frank’s face.

“I....like her. A lot. I want something with her.” “Something?” Frank chortled, “...you mean, like a relationship, Bill?” He looked closely at Billy, saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face and his jaw dropped. “You do, don’t you?! Fuckin’ hell! Never thought I’d see the day, Russo.” Billy burst out laughing.

“Well, that makes two of us, Frankie. But...” he spread his hands out to either side of him, “...it is what it is. And I’ll fill you in on all the details later. Now, this thing with Madani and Homeland - let’s get it nailed down.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

That same morning, you sat at your desk and slowly twirled from side to side in your chair. You sipped your cappuccino, and thought about Billy.

Little cousin had done you a favour this time and earlier on had delved into her company’s database, digging out some further information on Billy and Anvil which Google couldn’t provide you with. All it had given you was the bare minimum of the company’s founding date and numerous photos of Billy looking hot in his designer suits.

She told you she’d heard of him, and had also seen him at several events similar to the one you’d attended. You’d admitted you were seeing him, and she’d firstly screeched down the phone at you, nearly bursting your eardrum, before saying, “Now see, if you hadn’t gone in my place you wouldn’t have met him!” “Yeah, yeah, alright. Tell me what you’ve got for me.”

In a more serious tone, she said, “Just be careful though, his company seems a little... well, shady let’s just say. I mean, in the security business,” her voice lowered, “there’s usually some dodgy dealings or other going on. But him and his colleagues seem to have got themselves in some deep water with two federal agencies. I’ll email this stuff to you now and you’ll see what I mean.” You thanked her and hung up before she could tell you that now you owed her another favour.

You’d read through the attachments she’d sent you, and your eyes had got wide as you read that Billy and Anvil had originally been funded by a shadowy CIA guy, who’d then been killed in a gun battle between un-named protagonists. You sussed out that Anvil must’ve been one of those involved, as Billy and his friend Frank had been arrested and interrogated by Homeland Security before being released without charge. That struck you as a bit odd, but there were no more details available.

Your phone had chosen that moment to buzz with a FaceTime call from the man himself. You’d hesitated then accepted the call, and Billy’s handsome face popped up in front of you, with a wide smile plastered on it. You could see he was in his car. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” he said in a low sexy voice, and you felt your stomach tighten with excitement. This guy... the effect he had on you....!

You’d smiled and replied, “Morning, Billy.” He tilted his head towards you, dark eyes drawing you in, “Missin’ me? Because I’m missing you.” Shaking your head, smirking, you said, “We only saw each other a few hours ago so no, I’m not.” A cheeky grin from him this time, “Don’t believe you, angel, I think you can’t wait to see me again.” “You’re such a cocky bastard, Billy,” you laughed, “Why are you calling, exactly?”

His smile was a genuine one as he said, “I just wanted to see you before I head off to this job. Not sure when I’ll be able to call next. Remember - I’ll let you know as soon as I can when we can meet up this week.” You nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” He blew you a kiss, saying “Bye, angel,” before he rang off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

One of your friends had called shortly afterwards to ask if you wanted to meet up for lunch, as you hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Deciding that you could do with some girl time, you arranged to meet her in a steak house near the Chrysler Building, and then decided you’d better get some work done before you headed out for your long lunch hour.

The two of you had met up just outside the restaurant and had gone in chatting away to each other. Being shown to your table, you sat down only to spot Billy Russo walking in behind a small dark-haired woman. Your mouth dropped open, and your eyes took in every detail of her. She was pretty, with big dark eyes, olive skin and wavy hair in a shoulder-length bob. Billy, you noted, had his hand on her lower back, guiding her to their table, just as he had with you when you went for your first drink with him.

You leant forward to your friend, “I’m so sorry about this but we’re gonna have to go somewhere else.” She looked concerned, “What’s wrong?” “Someone I need to avoid just came in,” you explained, “c’mon, I’ll tell them I’ve had an emergency at work or something.” You both stood up, and you fled from the restaurant before you repeated your actions at that house party, which had got you arrested. You didn’t want to end up in jail this time just because of that jerk and his little lady.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy looked up as two women who’d been sitting near him stood up and started rushing towards the door. Weird, he thought, they hadn’t even been served judging by the menus still laying on their place settings. He looked back at them, and one of them turned back briefly to her friend behind her as they exited the premises.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It was her. His angel. Oh fuck! Did she..? Yes, she must’ve seen him and... he glanced at Madani across the table from him, reading through the menu choices. She glanced up, smirking at Billy but it quickly dropped off her face, when she saw the expression on his.

“Billy?” she said, but he’d dumped his napkin onto his plate by now and was standing up.

“Sorry, Dinah... I gotta go.” An annoyed look on her face, she growled, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I... there’s someone I gotta catch up with, and I just saw them leaving.” He walked away from their table, and towards the door of the restaurant. As he did so he heard Madani say in a harsh voice, “Is it a woman, Russo?” but ignored her.

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23

[gayenerd]

Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie 

by Tom Lanham 

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

 Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not). 

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids. 

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true. 

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake. 

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!" 

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers. 

* * * 

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not? 

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time. 

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves. 

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job. 

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living. 

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

 BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead. 

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right? 

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly. 

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs. 

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so... 

TC: Sickening! 

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too? 

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10? 

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music. 

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls. 

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

 Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]? 

MD: At work, doing their own thing. 

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her. 

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school. 

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable. 

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs. 

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky. 

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food. 

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen. 

Why name your disc Dookie? 

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer." 

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine. 

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"? 

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland! 

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night. 

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you. 

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label. 

Is Green Day angry? 

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry. 

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible. 

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently? 

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building! 

* * * 

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract. 

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set. 

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude. 

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura. 

* * * 

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless. 

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed. 

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids? 

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want. 

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways? 

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything. 

=Was this something you went through personally? 

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything. 

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show. 

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week! 

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move? 

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

 =I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you... 

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

 =OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction... 

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?" 

=And you let just anybody touch it? 

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced. 

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut. 

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89. 

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones. 

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it. 

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too? 

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time. 

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"? 

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!" 

=As they say, you can never go home again. 

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?" 

=And if that teacher could see you now! 

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself. 

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own? 

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give. 

* * * 

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

[cannotgiveafuck]

Shazam Week Prompt 2

I'm a day late and expect to do again, but I'm not quitting!

Heres prompt 2: Holidays

-

Halloween had always been one of Billy's favorite holidays. 

Before he was Captain Marvel, he would spend the day at the Fawcett Park Market, getting his face painted in preparation for trick-or-treating. The amount of candy he snagged would last him weeks, even far into December if he controlled himself.

Before he managed to permanently escape from his Uncle Ben, Billy enjoyed Halloween for the chance it gave him to be far away from the man. At least for the night. When he returned, he'd always have to hide a majority of his stash in his room, lest his uncle throw his entire loot into the garbage. 

Ever since becoming the Champion of Magic, however, Billy found no time for Halloween shenanigans anymore. He had a responsibility to uphold, civilians to watch over, monitor duty to attend. 

Billy Batson wasn't a kid anymore. 

"What do you mean, you're not going out? You're thirteen years old! Go throw eggs and TP at some old tosser's house, get sick from too much candy, and all of that!"

Billy didn't know where to begin, everything about what he'd said was just...wrong. "John, I'm twelve. And I'm on patrol tonight. Do you know how bad it would be if the League found out I… egged someone's house? I'd be toast!"

But the thought of throwing rotten eggs at his Uncle Ebenezer's house brought on a joy he was ashamed to acknowledge. 

On the other side of the mirror, Constantine took a long, contemplative drag of his cigarette. "Do you realize how mad what you just said was? You're twelve and you've got patrol for what? Fawcett? The entire bloody world?"

The familiar heat of indignation, of embarrassment, flared at his cheeks. "So what?"

When he sighed, smoke obscured part of his features, but his blue eyes - clear and crisp and so much deeper than others gave credit for - pinned Billy to his spot. It was an accusing stare. A look that challenged Billy, doubted him, was filled with more condescension than John's words could imitate. It was a look plenty of adults gave plenty of kids when they did something particularly exhausting. 

Billy hated that look.

He also knew that John hated the League, that Billy was even part of the League. Against all opinions of him, John was actually quite soft for children, became rather protective and reckless for them. Billy knew John thought of him as a child, heck, the magician looked out for him well enough, and Billy appreciated it, really he did. But…

"Know much about the spirit world and Hallow's Eve?" John asked, thankfully diverting the subject. At Billy's head shake, he continued. "The veil between alive, dead, and undead becomes thin, nearly open. All the planes of existence sync up. Get the most supernatural activity around that time. And I know the lot of em throw one killer of a ball."

Immediately, Billy had perked up, always interested in learning more about the magical community. But at the mention of a party filled with paranormal creatures?

Billy knew the glee on his face was evident as John chuckled.

"Unless, of course," he added, tone teasing, "you're too busy patrolling."

Ah, crap.

[[MORE]]

-x-

"Are you sure this will work?" Billy asked as he looked at John's handiwork. It was impressive and amazing, and Billy never got tired of seeing magic in action.

"C'mon now, lad, trust me here," he said with a face that did not at all look like John Constantine.

"It's not that I don't trust you, exactly…" 

They were currently in New York City, strolling down an alleyway that John was very certain lead into their destination. As they got ready earlier in the day, he had explained that the ball was a public affair, a yearly celebration that warranted total truce once entered. No murderous or underhanded conflict permitted on the property. The event was hosted by an affluent influence within the magical or supernatural community, though it took the effort of some key abilities to pull it off, to ensure the location was safe and secure. 

However, just because there was no guest list didn't mean anyone could waltz on in. Unless they were a plus one, a regular human or extraterrestrial could not enter the compound. Afterall, there was still so much that neither knew or understood about the world, about Earth and her inhabitants and patrons from all walks of existence. Only those immersed in the community and its secrets could be trusted to attend. 

Though, Billy was unsure how solid a definition of trust that they used. 

And then there were certain individuals or groups on a blacklist. No matter if they had attended before or were invited by someone going - once someone was banned, it took a great deal of influence to be welcomed back.

That is, unless someone was clever and crafty enough at magical tricks to sneak in.

Someone like the infamous and definitely blacklisted John Constantine.

"Think of it like any other Halloween party, yeah? Some folks go as themselves and that's fine, but boring, honestly, and others wear costumes. Nobody's gonna rip off someone's mask, right?" John smiled with far too many sharp teeth, with a face that was not his own. "That's how glamour is around these ilk."

It made sense, sure. But still, Billy couldn't help but feel...weird. Don't get him wrong, it was exciting getting to join in on this adventure, but looking into the mirror and instead of seeing himself, or even Captain Marvel, he saw a strange creature. It was creepy. 

Once John applied the glamour dust, Billy used his own magic to shape what he wanted to appear as - an aesthetic look inspired by his own Feyr. 

With Tawny's help, Billy became a tiger themed witch boy. Pointed ears and a gliding tail, sharp fangs and claws, wild hair and catlike eyes, a magically fitted black suit with striped markings that followed onto his skin, and eerie blood splatter across his hands and face - Billy so wanted to wear this for other Halloween parties.

(He doesn't actually believe he'd ever get the chance, but well, one could dream.)

Though, he admitted, he was sort of jealous of John's glamour. A full transformation into a stylishly decorated demon - large horns, full black eyes, fancy clothing and a grand colorful coat. He looked really, really cool.

"I could've gone as Marvel, you know. Being an adult seems easier for this," Billy commented. It would have also been safer. 

Great adventure aside, Billy wasn't stupid enough to ignore the dangers he was getting into. He may be magical inclined, but Marvel was the Champion of Magic. If things went south, he would prefer to have the Gods on his side. And great costume aside, something about attending a party as a kid, albeit a never aging one, seemed like it was asking for trouble. What if the glamour wasn't enough? What if his magic wasn't enough? What if someone saw right through them and realized Billy really was just a kid? If he got blacklisted from the coolest supernatural party of the year before he even turned eighteen, he would never live it down.

"You telling me that you want the entire place in chaos? That's what the Champion of the Gods would do. Half the party would swarm you for autographs and most likely try to pull you into rooms you do not want to go, and the other half would fall over themselves trying to leave the damn place. Some may even risk breaking the truce to get a piece of you."

"I thought that's what the glamour was for."

"A pretty costume can't hide the fact that he's the Champion of goddamn Magic. His energy alone would blind the lot like a beacon of divine fucking light." John stopped them before they reached a dead end wall practically oozing magical illusion. They kept a good enough distance, though he still lowered his voice. "I know you run with the big superhero league, but his reputation goes farther than you've been flying around in his cape. Near everyone knows about the Ancient Champions and their patron Gods, and half of those know about the Wizard and his lofty seat at the center of all Earthly magic. He's a bloody legend down here, so no shouting for your giant fuckall lightning, alright? You don't need to leave here with a massive target on your forehead."

Well, then. This was news to him.

"It'd be nice if you told me this before, you know, instead of when we are literally walking into the lions den!" Knowing that there could be powerfully magical beings who would want to hurt him… that seemed like important information.

"That's why I told you to stay as a kid, kid," John flicked at his forehead, infuriating and condescending all at once. Which wasn't an uncommon thing, unfortunately.

The response was immediate, Tawny's low rumble, warning John Constantine away.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," he lead them forward and to Billy is felt like walking through a curtain to see what was covered on the other side. "Now, stay within eyesight of me, and don't accept drinks you haven't seen the bartender make. And even then, keep to what you know," John said. 

Billy knew what to do, thank you very much. He's had talks with his neighbor Candy, and he's heard older teens whisper at foster homes, and him and Freddy have watched teenage party movies. He knows what to do and unlike John, he doesn't go pissing off every magical being he comes across.

He'll be fine!

-x-

He was not fine.

Billy was very much not fine at all.

He felt sick and nauseous and all he wanted to do was throw up, but he couldn't and that made it worse. Thanks to John's quick thinking, he managed to get them out before Billy's glamour wore off. Though, with how fast John was walking, he was practically dragging Billy along, making the sidewalk blur and the street lights flare painfully. 

"That's what you get for accepting a drink from the eternal witch boy," John said, voice teasing. It was salt in Billy's wounds along with everything else right now.

Words seemed to escape him for the moment, so he gagged and spat on the ground at John's feet to let him know how he felt about that.

"Didn't take you for a delinquent," John continued. He sounded more amused and Billy hated it. "Not that I'm judging, mind you. I had my first taste of alcohol when I was ten."

"Didn't know," Billy muffled out. He'd tried beer before, him and Freddy had snuck out with a can each one time. They'd stolen it from one of the foster dad as he lay passed out on the couch. It was the most disgusting thing Billy had ever tasted.

"Yeah, can't blame you there. Mead tastes deceptively sweet. Either way, it was from Klarion and that's where you went wrong."

Okay, he really did not need a lecture right now. It was Halloween and he nearly blew their cover and he may have become an ally to Klarion and they almost got found out by Zatanna and all Billy wanted to do was sleep forever.

Still incapable of words, because talking required thinking and that was not going to happen - Billy groaned.

"No, no sleep yet. Gonna need some water and greasy food first, or you'll be feeling even more like shit come morning. Good thing I know a place and they won't ask questions." 

At the mere thought of food, Billy felt his stomach turn and finally threw up. Surprisingly, it made him feel better. 

"Hmm. Good thing you don't have monitor duty tomorrow, you're sleeping in. And no patrol, either. Consider it an extended holiday."

Halloween had never been this eventful before, at least at a personal level, but it all honesty, Billy didn't feel an ounce of regret. This was probably his favorite year yet.

Vomiting in the middle of the street excluded.

[happyhargrove]

Insecurities / Billy Hargrove

Pairing: Billy x reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse

Word count: 2,677 (holy shit)

Author’s Note: hi, this is my first attempt at posting an imagine in so long, I hope you like it! (please give me feedback, but also be gentle with me). I wrote it based on the photoset below. Also, I cannot stress enough that I do not condone the behavior of billy as a character, but I’m also so soft for him like ???

“Hey, (Y/L/N)!” Carol called out from across the parking lot as (Y/N) was starting her walk home.

“What do you want, Carol?” she asked calmly, knowing that Carol’s only goal was to get on her nerves.

She motioned for her to walk over, which she knew was most likely something she would regret, but she did anyway. What pulled her into the center of hurricane Carol? Billy Hargrove, Hawkins’ new bad boy, was leaning on the side of his car, where their little group was gathered. Their annoying ass group that had taken Billy in only two days after he had moved to town. Everything about Billy screamed danger and drew her in. He was the opposite of (Y/N)’s seemingly perfect life at the end of her street, the same street Billy had moved onto just before school began. He was the bad influence she had been looking for.

“Tommy wants to know if you’ll let him take you to the party this weekend,” Carol said with a smirk on her face.

“Carol, as disgusting as that sounds, I think I’ll take a pass based off of the shit eating grin that’s on your makeup plastered face,” (Y/N) said with a disgustingly sweet smile on her face, which caused Billy to laugh.

“What the fuck did you just say and why the fuck did you just laugh?” Carol spat.

“You heard me,” (Y/N) said, still maintaining her smile as she turned to walk away, but she was stopped by an unfamiliar hand wrapping around her wrist. Carol and Tommy had both pulled her aggressively before, so she was aware of what that would feel like, but this was different, it was more gentle.

“Wait,” Billy said, spinning (Y/N) around, “let me give you a ride home.”

“If you give her a ride home, don’t ever fucking talk to us again,” Tommy said in disbelief.

“Well, it was really nice knowing you,” Billy said with a smirk as he motioned for you to get in his car.

“I’m going to get you for this one day,” Carol said, trying to sound intimidating.

“I’m shaking, please don’t come for me,” (Y/N) said in a mocking tone as she climbed into the car and swiftly shut the door, which made Billy laugh again.

Carol, Tommy, and whatever other morons were with them slowly backed away from Billy’s car as he backed up and pulled out of the school parking lot, heading towards their street. He turned up the speakers, which blasted AC/DC, her absolute favorite. Being in the car with a stranger didn’t stop her from singing the lyrics at the top of her lungs and casually dancing along. Billy and (Y/N) had a great time rocking out to music on the car ride home, so much so that she was disappointed when he pulled into her driveway.

“Thank you for the ride, you didn’t have to do that back there you know..” she said.

“I know, but they’re assholes and you seem real,” he stated casually.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.. so, what do you say, Hargrove.. friends?” she said in a joking tone, secretly hoping he would take it seriously.

“Friends.”

Billy and (Y/N) had a friendship like no other. They were inseparable ever since Billy dropped her off at home that day. People around Hawkins assumed they were dating, but, much to (Y/N)’s dismay, that wasn’t true. If they knew about their secret late night hang outs they would definitely doubt that they weren’t together despite the countless amounts of times both Billy and (Y/N) had denied the claims. After only knowing each other for a week, Billy began showing up at (Y/N)’s house in the late hours of the night, covered in blood, cuts, and irritation marks she knew would form into bruises the next day. The understanding in their friendship was that she would never ask, but what he didn’t know is that she never needed to ask because she knew, she had witnessed it one night, only a month after Billy had began the (almost) nightly routine of showing up at her window looking like somebody’s punching bag.

After hearing her dad scream at her mom for the third time that night, she snuck out her window and casually made her way to Billy’s. As she approached the window she heard the very thing she was driven away from at home. She carefully peered into his window to find Neil, his father, yelling at Billy and then forcefully shoving him into the wall. After he shoved him into the wall he proceeded to punch him square in the face. She couldn’t hear anything he was saying, the sounds muffled by the window. After Neil got whatever response he wanted out of Billy, he left the room. Her mouth hung open in horror as she watched one of the strongest men she knew break down on his bedroom floor. Unsure of what to do, she waited a couple minutes below the window and then tapped on the glass in their usual code. Taking longer than most nights, Billy made his way to the window and let (Y/N) in. He didn’t bother bringing up what had just happened, instead he pretended it didn’t and simply asked her what was wrong, knowing that she wouldn’t have come over unless something was off.

“My dad was just screaming at my mom more than usual, needed to get away,” she said softly, knowing that his night hadn’t gone much better.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here,” he said, pulling her in for a hug, which was much needed by both after the disasters each had faced that night.

What (Y/N) didn’t notice was Billy double checking that his door was locked and how he strategically had her lay on the side of the bed furthest from the door. Once he felt he had done enough to set himself up to protect her if anything went wrong, he relaxed next to her. Then, they spent the rest of that night listening to AC/DC and smoking in silence until (Y/N) decided it was best that she headed home for the night. Although, she could see something in Billy’s eyes that was begging her to stay, she climbed out his window and walked back home. Her mind was racing and she couldn’t stop thinking of the event she saw unfold through his window that night. Once she was back in her room and had changed into her pajamas, she crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling as Billy did the same in his own room, both thinking of the horrors of that night. Each worried about the other’s safety in the situation that had unfolded. (Y/N) couldn’t stop thinking about how badly she wanted to save him and Billy couldn’t stop thinking about how bad it could’ve been if she had been there ten minutes earlier.

Six months. Six months she had known Billy and for five months she had suffered, wanting more than friendship. (Y/N) was beginning to give up hope. Billy had been making more frequent visits to her at night, more cut up and bruised than ever before. The more nights he spent over, the more she knew she wanted to be with him and each time he left or was just gone in the morning she could feel her heart break. Also,  the more he got hurt just meant that his rate of partying and getting into fights had increased as well. Each time they attended a party she would hope that things would change, but instead he would go crazy and get plastered, which lead to him picking fights over the dumbest things.

The last party that (Y/N) attended with Billy ended in a complete disaster. She watched him do a second keg stand for the night after already drinking an absurd amount of other drinks on top of that. She gently touched his arm as his fake friends were cheering and puling him through the crowd. He managed to worm his way out of the crowd and give her as much of his attention as possible with the amount of alcohol in his system.

“Billy.. please, no more..” she said gently, which made Billy’s jaw tightened as he tensed up, clearly pissed off.

“Let me deal with my shit the way I want to,” he slurred.

With Billy weakened from the alcohol, (Y/N) was able to pull him out the front door to talk in privacy.

“Billy, talk to me please,” she sighed. “I can’t deal with you this drunk, you know how my dad is..” she trailed off into an almost inaudible volume, “and I know how yours is.”

“What did you say?” Billy snapped.

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

“You don’t know anything,” he said.

“I saw, what Neil does.” (Y/N) whispered, looking at her feet. “I came over to talk and I saw him push you into a wall..”

“Leave,” Billy snapped back angrily.

“Billy I-”

“Leave, I can’t look at you right now,” he cut her off.

(Y/N) looked at Billy’s face, searching for any kind of emotion aside from anger, but gave up, turning away when she noticed that his facial expression was unchanged. The moment she turned tears began to fall down her face. Billy felt absolutely nothing aside from regret as he turned to head back into the party, stopping and turning to watch (Y/N)’s receding figure before walking into the house and drowning his pain in more drinks.

After that, she stopped going to the parties with him and that’s when he slowly, but surely, stopped making his visits to her bedroom. He felt like he had pushed away the one person he trusted with his coping mechanisms. Then she began to hear about his latest fights the next morning at school from some random kids passing in the hallway. Each time she would sigh and bow her head, knowing that he could be doing so much more with his life than this. They would see each other in passing, but never say anything because neither knew where to start with the mess that Billy had made.

(Y/N) hadn’t spoken to Billy in two weeks, which was taking a toll on her. Billy was her safe space, her escape from all her bullshit and she was his. She knew that he was only pushing her away because he felt insecure, but she was still pissed that he could leave her alone like that. Her dad had been getting increasingly worse with drinking in the past few months due to the fact that he lost his job and Billy had known that. He spent every night worried about her and how she was doing, but he was still too afraid to ask her how she was doing, knowing that he had fucked up with the last party. Instead, he laid in his bed, listening to her favorite album and stared at the ceiling. She had the same fears about him and was thinking of his safety when she was snapped out of her thoughts as her dad slammed a door down the hall.

“(Y/N) WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” She heard her dad scream from down the hall.

“BEDROOM!” She called from her room, trying to mask her fear.

He stormed into her room, the door hitting the wall behind it once it opened, anger coursing through his veins and a look of determination on his face.

“Why is the kitchen not clean like I asked?” He said, moving towards her, the smell of alcohol on his breath. “You know, I think I’ve been too nice to you about all of this and you clearly haven’t learned.”

He moved towards her, grabbing her wrist, pulling her up from the chair. He looked her in the eyes, happy to see the fear he was met with, and threw her to the ground. With no hesitation, he kicked her in the ribs multiple times before heading towards the door again.

“Next time, I expect the fucking kitchen to be clean,” he said as he slammed the door behind her.

(Y/N) could feel the pain radiating throughout her body as she laid on the floor, tears streaming down her face. There was no point in fighting it anymore, she knew that she needed Billy. With a few whimpers, she slowly made her way up off the ground and out her window. This time, instead of casually strolling to Billy’s, she ran as fast as she could. Her taps on the window were faster than normal, which alarmed a half-asleep Billy. As if the last two weeks had never happened, he rushed to the window and helped (Y/N) climb in. He heard her cry out in pain as she made her way in and he took note of her tear stained cheeks.

“(Y/N), what happened?” Billy asked softly, but all she could do was shake her head. “If you don’t tell me then I can’t make it better.”

“W-why do you g-get to ask questions, b-but I d-don’t?” She stuttered out in between her tears.

“Don’t change the subject, what happened?” He persisted.

“He normally just yells.. but it’s been getting worse ever since he lost his job..” she paused to try to calm herself, holding up a finger to let Billy know she needed a moment, and Billy’s hand began rubbing slow, reassuring circles on her back. “This time he was so drunk and angry that h-he threw me to the ground and kicked me.. a few times..”

She could feel Billy tensing up with anger and rage next to her, but she couldn’t find the strength to calm him down this time. She had never felt so weak and useless in her life. That’s when Billy realized that he needed to be there for her instead of letting his anger get the best of him, so he took a deep breath and gently pulled her in for a hug.

“It’s not fair, you know?” she stated more than asked.

“What’s not fair, princess?” Billy asked, confused.

“You can’t just push me away for caring about you, it’s not fair.”

Billy sighed, “I know, but it’s so much easier to push people away than to let them in and I wish I didn’t feel that way.”

(Y/N) pulled back from Billy’s embrace and looked into his eyes. She knew she loved him the day he chose being friends with her over Tommy and Carol, but never had the courage to admit it.

“Billy.. love doesn’t destroy you, did you know that?” she said, which made him look at her in quiet astonishment. “Insecurities do.. you ruin your life by not saying how you feel.”

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be cleaning you up and helping you through this, but you’re trying to pick up my pieces again..” he said, looking down. “It’s not that simple, I care about you, but I’m scared that I’ll be just like Neil or your dad.. you have such high expectations for me.. you look at me like I’m this great guy with potential that just acts like a jerk, but what if I’m just a jerk, (Y/N)?”

“Stop.. don’t make me feel like an asshole for-“ she cut herself off, not wanting to complete her sentence.

“For what?” Billy pushed.

“For wanting your affection..” she said quietly. “You could never be like them, Billy. Deep down, you know that..”

They both leaned in, kissing each other, like they had both secretly wanted since the day they had driven together for the first time. They spent the rest the night listening to music, kissing, and eventually falling asleep in each others arms, both wrapped in the comfort of each other’s safety.