#billy hargrove owns me

[runraerun]

All my talk of needing to put Billy in a mason jar so I can study him/keep him close/shake the shit out of him on occasion and I finally did it:

Don’t worry guys, he’s happy and healthy. I even put some enrichment in there for him. ☺️❤️

[gravegroves]

Okay, little stream-of-consciousness-moment:

Billy, who's mind is like a steel trap, who isn't a scared little child, but a healthy, angry young adult. And the mindflayer doesn't even know what hit it. One second it's infiltrating grey matter, overtaking neural pathways and becoming one with this new vessel and the next second it's burning alive, it's crumbling and shrinking and screeching in agony as the human body does what is does best to foreign invaders: try to kill it.

I've always loved the posts on tumblr that explore how deeply weird humans would be to aliens. Our physiology, our mentality, when spoken of as animal traits they are all deeply disturbing. We're persistence predators. We're built to last. We can survive unimaginable horrors (and also die from the stupidest, most everyday things). Our main predator, is ourselves. A bite from a child can kill another human just from the bacteria alone if left untreated. Our bodies are designed to kill entities both within and without.

Humans are fucking terrifying.

So the mindflayer is so unprepared for an adult human who's been through too much shit already. Not just a tired little slip of a kid, but a healthy, entering-his-prime human and is eradicated with extreme prejudice by nothing more than a good immune system going into overdrive.

But it's too deeply imbeded, so the body again does what it can to protect itself, it encases it. Within the body, but separate. Calcified. Caged.

So here's Billy, who has a rather spotty memory of a car crash and feels like he has a head cold for a couple of days before he gets on with his life. Only weird shit keeps happening to him, now. Like that time he encounters a pack of dogs while out drinking by the quarry, except they look really fucked-up the closer they get, not like any dog Billy's ever seen before, and just as he's prepared for an attack from these things, they just walk up to him and sniff around a bit with their weird flower heads blooming and closing, but otherwise leaving him unharmed. And Billy's just this side of drunk where terrible ideas seem kinda brilliant and he tells the things to sit. And they do. Amazed, he tosses his beer bottle and tells them go fetch, and again, one does.

And then when it's time to go home Billy offhandedly tells them to get lost and they run off back into the woods, and when he wakes up in the morning it's easy to rationalise it away. Probably the beer had been rolling around in the car for too long and it went bad and fucked him up. Should just have thrown the whole sixpack out. Those were just regular dogs, for sure. Except the next day, when he's out behind the pool building trying to find a good spot to smoke, he steps onto soft soil or something and falls down into a weird ass tunnel and a bunch of those same monster dogs just appear out of nowhere and pile themselves on top of each other for him to be able to climb out. And a couple of days later when Neil smacks Billy around for being out late again, one of those dogs honest to God comes crashing through the living room window to shred Neil's leg up and leaves just as quickly at the first sign of panic from Billy.

And yeah okay, by this stage Billy's figuring out things are kinda fucky around Hawkins, and so it's just Billy having his own little side adventure in the background while the rest of the gang are running around Hawkins trying desperately to find the Mindflayer, not knowing that Billy unknowingly trapped it within himself and is just living his life, teaching these weirdly obedient alien dogs to do tricks because they keep helping him or seeking him out.

Anyway, upside down is doomed because their leader is literally trapped inside Billy and Billy is just teaching these dog-things to steal cigarettes from the gas station and volunteering for the closing shift at the pool because he can just get the dogs to bring the pool noodles back into the shed.

[findafight]

god i love when fics have steve experiencing insane things but being nonchalant about it bc he thinks it's normal when it absolutely is not. i like to think there have been multiple instances where other guys have been like psychosexually obsessed w steve so when billy starts acting like that steve's just like "ugh again?" like imagine if when he's dating eddie he's just casually like "god isn't it so annoying when other guys get like aggressively obsessed w you and stare at you all the time?" and eddie is sitting there chanting wtf in his head wondering how steve is a real human.

Ya I think it'd be very funny if kinda very strange things happen to Steve and he figures that it's just a normal thing. He'll be sitting around with people like hey y'all ever think about when you and your friends would dig a big hole and pretend to bury someone alive and hold a funeral for them and then they'd go home and tell your parents you died in the woods? When your mom ran into the forest she found you covered in flowers and dirt staring at the sky thinking about how cool it'd be to decompose into the ground she cried and it was probably the first time you saw a grown up cry? And every one is like uhhhhh no. Our friends did not actually fake our death semi successfully and scare our parents??? And he goes oh. Huh. Weird!

my HC is Robin is Steve first similar age friend that has not wanted to fuck him since eighth grade. This is funny because she has also never been normal about him. No one has ever been normal about Steve.

I think it's also very funny that Billy teamed up with Tommy, who you know has never been normal about Steve in his life. Like maybe when Steve was in middle school there was a guy who also was weirdly obsessed with Steve except he and Tommy viciously hated each other. Like straight up brawling and crying about it and Steve is there like what the fuck are you doing??? And Carol beside him just shaking her head going uhg Steve they're being gross let's leave.

But Tommy and Billy...They sniffed each other out or something idk how but they found each other and were obsessed with Steve together in a toxic positive feedback loop. And poor Steve is sitting here like "uhg 😑 Still? Another one? Why does this keep happening?" As though it's a completely regular occurrence. Bro. Buddy. What is your life actually.

Eddie finding out about this history and he's just like. No. Steve. I do not know what it's like to have men stare at me with thinly disguised lust?? But also keeping to himself that he was ALSO obsessed with Steve. He's like oooh my god. I'm not the only one?? The one thing I have in common with Tommy Hagan and Billy Hargrove is our weird obsession with Steve? What kinda world...

Except he's also immensely smug about it because yeah other guys have been obsessed with Steve. It seems to be a Hawkins right of passage for their age group. But Eddie actually got him. He fucking won.

[furby-scoops]

Steve is looking at his phone like, "Didn't I block him"🤨🤔

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Maybe instead of getting better after Starcourt, instead of healing and mending that which has been broken, Billy just gets worse.

There’s no more playful grins behind cigarettes or keg stands held in good fun. No more speeding down empty backroads or engines revving in parking lots. He gets quiet, and that’s the scary part.

Because as soon as someone presses him to talk, he gets mean.

He outright says no when he’s asked to keep an eye on Max, because there are no repercussions anymore — his wounds from the “fire” haven’t healed just yet, and if he shows up in the hospital with new bruises over freshly cracked ribs, the doctors will suspect something.

So the most he gets is a glare from Neil and a stern do it or else.

And Billy, a believer of malicious compliance, picks himself up a walkie-talkie. Does whatever the fuck he wants while the thing sits on his dresser.

If any voices come through, he shuts it off, or at the very least tunes it to a channel that only he and Max use.

She knows better than to use it.

Things between them aren’t any less tense than before, but it’s different now. Now he knows.

So the playing field is even.

He doesn’t meddle in Max’s business, who she hangs around, and Max doesn’t burden him with asking for rides and things alike. Not that he could really do much with his car sitting in the junkyard — Harrington has taken over the task of chauffeur anyway.

Harrington, who apparently also picked himself up a walkie-talkie.

And who somehow managed to learn about Billy and Max’s private channel.

“Hargrove? You there?”

The voice is staticky over the radio, but not out of range. After the brief moment of shock passes, Billy rolls his eyes at the thought of Harrington parked down the block, sitting behind the wheel of his Beamer listening intently for a response.

Rather than reach over to his nightstand, Billy rolls over to face the wall.

His sheets have become more of a nest as of late. Gathered around him in piles because he prefers the chill on his skin to sweating beneath scratchy blankets.

He hasn’t changed the bedding in weeks. Hasn’t opened the blinds or really even left his room at all this summer — the pool has likely already filled his position. Not that he’d be going back any sooner than a year or two from now.

If he ever feels comfortable taking his shirt off again.

“Billy? Look, I know you’re there, man. Max said that this was the channel to reach you on, and—“

Billy snatches the walkie-talkie and holds the button down.

“Go fuck yourself. Over.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then static pours through. Likely the air conditioning in Harrington’s car.

“Touchy,” he tuts. Exhales a heavy sigh and blows a raspberry. “Don’t always have to be such a dick, y’know.”

“Being a dick isn’t something all of us have to try at, rich boy, so put your shit in gear and get off my block.”

There’s another brief pause.

“How’d you know I was in your neighborhood?”

“Walkies don’t work out-of-range, fuckhead.”

“Damn, okay,” Harrington huffs. “Sue me for wondering how you were doing.”

Wondering how I’m doing?

“Wondering how I’m doing?” Billy repeats.

He stares up at the ceiling, brows pinched together.

“Yeah? Y’know, like checking up on you?”

“Why?”

For months, Billy has done nothing but rot in his bed. Too sore to move, too short-fused to bother talking about it.

Too guilty to open any of the get-well-soon cards that he’s received.

Among the poorly-addressed ones with crayon scribbles from his former swimming students, he recalls one almost equally as poorly-addressed dawning the signature Steve Harrington at the bottom.

It was the only envelope he’d bothered to open. Practically had to rip it up with his teeth because of the lack of dexterity in his fingers, though, he never worked up the nerve to dial the number scrawled at the bottom.

Harrington scoffs over the channel.

“It’s like you’ve died or something, man. It’s worrying.”

Disregarding the flush spreading across his cheeks, Billy rolls his eyes and spreads out more atop his comforter.

“If you’re so worried, why didn’t you just ask Max?”

“If she answered my questions, do you think I’d be on this channel right now?”

Billy presses his lips into a line.

He knows he hasn’t been the best brother. Quite the opposite, actually.

But it still aches to learn that Max apparently refuses to so much as talk about him. Makes his limbs sink deeper into the mattress like gravity has doubled down on him.

Makes him want to shut his walkie off and never turn it back on.

“Well, you’re a few months too late on your check-up, Harrington,” Billy rasps. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head at the sound of his own voice coming out so wet and pathetic. “Walking corpse at this point.”

A beat of silence persists. Then the static comes through again.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I have a therapist that already doesn’t help, thank you.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Harrington trails off. He holds the talk button down for a long beat, absently tapping his fingers against the door panel in his car. Then, he sighs. “Is it okay if I use this channel again?”

Billy’s vision blurs and he sniffles. Thankful that it can’t be heard by anyone but himself.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice shakes with it.

And that’s how Billy’s radio goes from being dead silent to constantly filling his room with chatter.

It helps and it hinders all at once.

Billy smiles for what feels like the first time in over a year, and laughs, even. But each time Harrington tells a little joke or giggles over the channel, Billy’s heart starts to ache more deeply.

It opens up old wounds.

He feels like Neil knows, somehow, when they’re both in the kitchen together. Accompanied by nothing but silence.

Neil asks if he can babysit for the weekend, and Billy drops the mug that was in his hand with a shaky wrist, fearing an entirely different question that doesn’t even get asked.

When Neil would normally berate him, he simply watches the way that Billy flexes his fingers. The way that he makes a weak fist, unable to straighten his fingers completely once he relaxes them, and his brows pinch in mild worry.

“Still havin’ trouble?” Neil asks.

His voice is gentle enough that Billy’s eyes well with tears as he nods. Bites his lip to keep it from wobbling.

Neil pulls him into a hug and Billy sobs into his shoulder. Not because of the pain or disability, but because he thinks he’s let a hint of love creep back into his life after all this time.

Which should be a good thing.

For once, Billy agrees to watching Max, if only because he doesn’t have the energy to snark back right now. Neil pats his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Asks if he’s sure, like it’d be no issue at all for him and Susan to cancel their weekend plans.

Billy can’t help that he huffs a laugh. Can’t help that it comes out sounding closer to a scoff.

Why be accommodating now, after a lifetime of neglect and maltreatment? He shakes his head to himself, and his expression must give his thoughts away.

Neil digs his thumb hard into his shoulder, earning a stifled whimper and another influx of tears.

Billy cleans up the broken mug and wipes the liquid away from the floor by himself, knelt on his achy knees while he’s watched like a hawk from the doorway. Like he might shove the glass under the counter if he’s left unsupervised for even a second.

Over the weekend while their folks are away, Billy takes Max out to pick up a couple of movies and get a few snacks with Susan’s car.

Since he so scarcely leaves the house, he turns a few heads when people recognize him.

None so much as Harrington, who gawks at him from behind the fucking desk at Family Video. Billy glares hard at Max when she smirks at him before disappearing to the horror section.

The brunet is a bit more rugged than Billy recalls. Has a stronger jawline and more hair. Lots more hair.

It makes Billy feel especially pathetic, draped in a t-shirt that used to fit his figure well, but now swallows him more than anything.

That heavy feeling droops his shoulders down. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away nonchalantly when Harrington abandons his station, leaving Buckley behind the counter floundering at the register.

“Look who’s out ‘n about,” Harrington chuckles. He has no issue reaching out and setting his hands on Billy’s biceps, moving close as if to inspect him. “Have I always been this much taller than you?”

Billy flushes red and straightens his posture. Brings himself back up to eye-level, which spurs a dull pain in his spine. He must not do well in terms of hiding it, because the brunet’s brows furrow.

“Do you wanna sit down?”

Rather than respond right away, Billy huffs and waves Harrington off of him. Shoots Max another glare when he spies her watching the exchange from behind a shelf.

“All I fuckin’ do is sit,” Billy grumbles. “If I knew I was gonna get a pity parade I would’a just sent the shitbird in.”

Harrington nods to himself. Takes half a step back and smiles.

“Alright with standing, then. Got it.” He tilts his head to the side. Eyes never leaving Billy for even a second. “Your hair’s grown out a lot.”

His gaze is a fond one. Like they aren’t in public right now. Like Billy is his damn girlfriend on prom night, and he’s seeing the gown for the first time.

Billy shrugs. Absently toys with one of the curls that dangles over his collar bone.

That weird pit is back in his stomach. The one that leaves him crying in the dark when Harrington signs off after hours of chatting about everything and nothing at once.

Billy wonders where he parks his car when they talk for that long. If he’s right outside or in the deep quiet of the woods, where the stars can really be seen and the train shakes the ground.

He’d rather Steve just climb through his window.

“I like it,” Steve adds. Nudges Billy’s elbow with his own. “It’s a soft look. Fits you really well.”

“Are you this nice to all the girls that come in here, or just the ones you wanna pork?” Billy teases.

Steve laughs, and it sounds so much better in person. Billy wants nothing more than to bottle it up and keep it forever.

Before the brunet can come back with a snide little joke of his own, Max meanders up to them. Holds up a few tapes for Billy to approve. Without really looking them over, he hands her the cash, and they all move back to the register together.

Steve rings them up. Max pays. Everything is so much slower than it should be going, like he’s trying to prolong the encounter as much as he can.

Billy understands the feeling.

When Steve slides Max the receipt, he’s less smiley. Billy turns to face the door, but doesn’t miss the way that Max nabs a pen and scrawls something on the slip of paper before sliding it back towards Steve.

Billy decides not to pry. Fears that if he asks, he’ll find that it’s some secret nerd shit that he can’t be privy to.

Fears that the heavy feeling will bear down on him again.

He doesn’t have to ask, turns out. The phone rings later that night, and Billy’s blood pressure spikes when Steve’s voice pours over the line.

“You should come out more often,” he says easily. “Really need some sun.”

Billy just tsks. They wind up sitting on the line for a little under half an hour. Billy wishes it lasted longer.

But he’d rather not explain the minutes away when his father shows him the phone bill.

Just before they hang up, after giggling at each other nearly the entire time, Billy barks out, “Don’t call here again.”

Then he hangs up.

Steve, naturally, gets on the radio not a few seconds later. Giggles and says, “Okay, dick. You can call me from now on.”

They stay up for practically the rest of the night talking.

Billy stares up at the ceiling and wonders how long this little thing between them will last.

He starts to question it more when Steve actually, by some miracle, convinces him to come out a handful of times.

The brunet is really touchy. Always has an arm around Billy’s shoulders or a hand on his back, and constantly bumps their knees together when they’re sitting down. Billy feels stupid for wanting more.

Why, he doesn’t know, because he’s fairly certain that he could ask for anything at this point.

Steve never calls again and that’s okay.

Billy prefers hearing whispers over the radio anyway.

It’s one evening in particular that Max is out of the house for the night, away at the Chief’s place for a sleepover, that the pit in Billy’s stomach turns into a black hole.

Steve has been ranting about his manager for the last half hour, only stopping to mention how a movie cover reminded him of Billy. How he couldn’t even wait to get home before he turned his radio on and pressed to talk to him.

The black hole consumes Billy before he can catch the words leaving his mouth.

“Do you like me?” he hears himself ask.

His voice gets choked up, and the second he lifts his finger off of the button, he rolls over and screams into his pillow. Quiet enough that Neil and Susan won’t hear, but hard enough to let a fraction of the tension out.

“Obviously,” Steve says. “Why else would I be friends with you?”

Billy presses his face harder into the pillow.

He can feel the pressure building behind his eyes. Feel the blistering heat of fresh tears and the throb in his temples as he huffs a strangled sigh into the pillow. Before he can even decide between turning the walkie off or fabricating a response, static pours through.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, he means do you have feelings for him,” Max groans.

There’s a beat of silence.

“What? Rea—“

“What the fuck are you doing on this channel?” Billy interrupts.

He can feel the veins in his neck straining from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. Can practically see red when giggles pour through the radio.

A red hot flush of shame paints Billy’s face when he realizes that Eleven is listening in too.

“What are you still doing on this channel? If you didn’t want us to eavesdrop, you should’ve switched forever ago.”

“How long have you been listening to us talk?” There’s a beat of silence. Billy huffs. “Max. How long?”

“How long have you and Steve been talking?” Max asks.

Her rhetorical question is accompanied by giggles that are cut off when she lifts her finger from the button.

There’s nothing but silence for a moment. Then two.

Billy’s vision blurs as he sets his walkie down on his nightstand. The cold fingers of embarrassment wrap around him and drag him down, lower than he’s ever been drug before.

He’s ruined everything.

His sister not only hates him, but she knows about him now, and the only guy he’s ever let himself truly like is going to want nothing more to do with him after this.

Not for the first time since Starcourt, he wishes that monster had killed him.

“Billy?” Steve asks gently. When there’s no response, he sighs. “Look, we can figure out the channel thing some other time, but… was she right? Is that what you were trying to ask me?”

Silence. Then, giggles.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m right,” Max teases.

“Radio silence,” Steve snaps. “Now.”

His tone is stern. Brotherly in a way that should be surprising, but isn’t, really.

“Signing off…” Max says dejectedly.

Astonishingly, the channel falls silent. Billy sniffles as he reaches over to paw at his nightstand, curling his fingers weakly around the radio.

He doesn’t press the button. Tries to swallow his silent sobs in a failed attempt to compose himself first.

“Billy?” Steve coos, voice much softer now. “If you don’t wanna talk over the radio, that’s fine, but—“

“Yes,” Billy rasps.

A beat of silence.

“Yes?”

“She was right.”

Billy winces at how broken his voice sounds. A whistle pours through the radio.

“Oh, man,” Steve chuckles, and Billy’s heart sinks. “The boy of my dreams wants to know if I have feelings for him? Are you dense?”

There’s a crisp millisecond of confusion before Billy presses the button.

“What?”

“Of course I like you, dude.”

Billy inhales like he just resurfaced for air for the first time in years.

“Why?” he breathes.

“You’re funny, smart, surprisingly sweet, and pretty easy on the eyes. Just for starters.”

If his heart was thumping fast before, it’s going light-speed now. All he can do for a few beats is focus on controlling his breathing.

“You don’t like me,” he murmurs. “Trust me, Steve, I’m fucked up.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s a little fucked up.” Steve hums a laugh to himself. “And I do like you. You’re not gonna be changing my mind about it anytime soon.”

“What if I told you to go fuck yourself?”

“I’d tell you that you don’t always have to be such a dick.”

A tiny hint of a smile creeps its way onto Billy’s face when he hears Steve chuckle.

His eyes are dry. The pool of dread in his belly has begun to drain, and he feels the slightest bit hopeful.

“If you’re so sure, then I guess picking me up for dinner and a movie sometime won’t be difficult for you, will it?”

Steve sighs fondly at the notion.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Are you accepting?”

There’s a brief pause. Billy’s unable to keep from smiling giddily to himself.

“Depends,” Steve lilts. “Gonna open your window?”

There’s a light tap on the glass. Billy pushes himself up and draws the blinds, revealing a grinning brunet standing about a foot below, holding his walkie-talkie.

Billy tosses his on the bed before he opens the window and leans his elbows against the ledge.

“Is this the part where you ask me to let down my hair?” he teases.

Steve chuckles, but furrows his brows as he steps closer to the house.

“Were you crying?”

Taken aback by the question, Billy wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. Shrugs nonchalantly, which doesn’t seem to be the answer that Steve was looking for.

“I was expecting things to go a bit differently,” Billy admits.

Steve frowns, and the expression doesn’t look right on him. He reaches up. Settles his hand on Billy’s forearm, smoothing his thumb back and forth against his skin until Billy shifts to dangle his arm out the window.

The pads of Steve’s fingers are soft where he holds Billy’s hand, clasped and suspended in the air together.

Billy really does feel like Rapunzel for a moment.

“I can be a little thick-skulled sometimes,” Steve says softly. “You’re always talking about yourself like you’re some unsalvageable disaster, so when you asked me if I liked you, my mind instantly went there. I wanted to make you sure you knew for certain that I do.”

He gives a little half smile. Billy squeezes his hand gently. Hopes that Steve doesn’t notice how weak his grip is.

“It’s not like I really gave you any context clues.”

“True. You didn’t.”

“I am a bit of a disaster, though. Feels like I’m only good at messing things up sometimes,” Billy sighs. “Max already hates me, and when I thought for a second that you might too, everything felt so lost.”

Steve makes a face.

“I would never, and I’d like to point out that Max doesn’t either.”

Billy blinks. Huffs amusedly, and as always, it comes out sounding closer to a scoff.

“Pretty sure she does. You’ve said yourself that she wouldn’t even talk when you asked about me.”

After thinking on it for a brief moment, Steve laughs.

“Yeah, man, ‘cause she bites the head off of anyone who asks about you. Definitely told me to mind my fucking business more than once.”

Again, Billy just blinks.

He never considered that maybe it was a protective thing and not a shame thing. The revelation has a surprising amount of weight lifting off of his shoulders.

“Definitely sounds like her,” he says.

They share a chuckle. Billy flattens his other forearm against the windowsill and rests his chin against it.

“Thanks for trying to lift me up earlier?” he muses. “Didn’t really work in the moment, but still.”

Steve softly swings their hands from side to side and sighs.

“I can tell. Your eyes are all puffy.”

“Should’a seen me the other night.”

The brunet cocks his head to the side in mild confusion.

“What happened the other night?” he asks. “Didn’t mention anything while we were talking.”

“It was, ah… after we signed off for the night. It’s no big deal, really. I cry after most of our talks.”

Billy looks away. Steve squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Billy rasps.

His eyes prick with tears again and Steve steps closer. Drops his walkie-talkie in the grass and reaches up with his free hand to cup Billy’s cheek.

“Oh, you’re just a big crybaby, huh?” he coos. Billy chuckles sadly and leans into his touch. “If I’d known, I would’ve snuck over here sooner.”

“My old man checks in on me sometimes, so it’s probably better that you stay in your car.”

“Well, do you have a curfew? I’d love to steal you away every now and again and kiss your cute, stuffy nose.”

Billy sniffles, and chuckles again. Wipes his eyes with his free hand and shrugs.

“Haven’t really had anywhere to go ‘till now,” he says.

Steve nods.

“You eaten yet?”

A smile cracks across Billy’s face. Steve mirrors the expression.

“You buying?”

“I’ll spend my entire paycheck on burgers and fries if it gets you outta this fuckin’ room. I swear sometimes it’s like pulling teeth.”

They share a chuckle, and Billy sits up. Flushes red when Steve presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“Gimme a sec.”

Again, Steve nods. He’s slow to release the blond when he pulls away, and Billy can’t help that he’s grinning like an idiot as he opens the door and pads out of his room.

He finds Neil and Susan in the living room watching tv. Makes up some lie about a few friends having a kickback. Even goes as far as to apologize for the short notice.

His folks share a look. Susan spreads a big smile and sets her hand on Billy’s bicep.

“No worries, sweetheart. Go ahead,” she says. “Have fun, alright?”

“Will you be coming back tonight?” Neil asks.

Billy stays quiet for a moment. Then two, just processing, and eventually shakes his head.

“It’ll probably be too late,” he says, and clears his throat. “I have somewhere else lined up, though.”

He winces at his own words, regret beading on his skin like a cold sheen of sweat.

Neil nods. Turns his attention back to the tv.

“Just stay outta trouble.”

And that’s it.

Nothing more is said, but Billy still stands there like he’s waiting for something else to happen.

When nothing does, he nods curtly and pads back down the hallway to his room, deciding not to press his luck by letting them think too hard on it. Once he has the door shut behind him, he’s immediately leaning out the window again.

Steve has his walkie back in his hands, rocking back and forth patiently on the balls of his feet while he waits. He smiles when he notices that the blond has reappeared.

“What’d they say?”

“Go get your car, I’ll be ready by the time you pull up.”

Billy leans back. Grabs the window and shuts it just as Steve nods enthusiastically. Turns on his heel and jogs off of the lawn and back towards the street.

Giddy, warm feelings pool and buzz in Billy’s stomach as he digs through his drawers for jeans that he hasn’t worn in forever. Already has a date-worthy outfit in mind as he unfolds a pair.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when static pours through the radio still sitting idly on his bed.

“Update?” Max asks.

Billy rolls his eyes. Moves to grab it when another voice comes through.

“We’re goin’ steady,” Steve informs, out of breath.

“Yes!” Max shouts.

Then, a third voice comes through.

“Finally! Jesus,” Dustin huffs.

There’s a beat of silence, followed by Steve panting when he presses the talk button.

“How many of you dickheads are on this channel?”

“Just two?” Mike says. “Technically, since we’re only using two walkie’s.”

There’s laughter over the radio, and Billy rolls his eyes. Can’t really find it in himself to be mad right now with all of the butterflies swirling in his tummy.

“You’re all banned from the front seat of my car,” Steve huffs. “And the wedding, when it happens.”

“No! I wanted to be the flower girl!” Eleven whines.

“I was gonna walk you down the aisle,” Dustin adds.

“Good luck finding another officiant, then, I guess,” Lucas says with a scoff.

More laughter is had. Max and Mike chime in with various jokes about ring-bearers and bridesmaids, but they’re cut off when Steve presses to talk again.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I highly recommend switching channels.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Max muses.

Billy can practically hear the smirk in Steve’s voice when he speaks next.

“‘Cause I’m gonna start using this one for sex stuff, and it’s gonna get real weird real fast, so be warned.”

Multiple groans and sounds of disgust pour through the radio.

“Yuck,” Max says. “Switching channels.”

“Ditto,” Dustin adds.

Then silence. True silence.

Billy grabs his walkie.

“We really gonna have phone sex over the radio?” he muses.

Steve laughs. The subtle rumble of the engine is audible from the street as his car pulls up to the curb.

“Not if you hurry up and get your ass out here already.”

The blond bites his lip. Can’t believe for the life of him how light he feels. How, for once, he feels better for having survived car wrecks and slimy monsters in the dark.

Feels like letting someone new into his life won’t cause him grief this time around.

“On my way, pretty boy.”

[ickypuppi3]

steve being like fuck you actually and making billy be shirts during basketball because, well, it’s billy and steve thinks (hopes) that making billy cover up will piss him off at least a little

but billy just grins and shrugs it off and ties his shirt up around his waist like a crop top instead and steve ends up tripping over his own feet

..totally not because he was staring or anything

[mrs-assbutt]

Eddie or Billy calling Steve ‘sweetheart’ is my kryptonite.

That's all.

[femmethpipe]

Sooo over the teenager fics. I want my Steve and Billy to be a lil wrinkled and scarred while they spend years running right back to each other, literally dependent on one another to function.

[sunwarmed-ash]

Dear Billy

It’s been over 6 months since you died and I have finally started to try and not hate you for leaving me. With him of all people.  It’s been 6 months and I can still hear your voice. From the last time I saw you, saw anything for that matter. You were right, for a long time, I did want to join you. How could I not? I know who you really were. Before. Before Neil, before Hawkins, Vecna. Even before your mom left. Who you were at the end. Because after all, I'm alive, we're all alive, because you are not. I know you think I don’t care but I do. I’ve been through hell, hell you’ve put me through, but you’ve been through hell too. I’ve seen it. Not as fast as El did, and sure as hell not fast enough, but I saw it. And I’m sorry Billy. I’m so fucking sorry.  And I would do anything to have you back.  Max

[runraerun]

Photo Meme Game

I was tagged by @stevehairringtn ! Thank you!🫶

Rules: Post 9 pictures from your phone to describe yourself, then tag 9 people.

* Admittedly these are all memes made by moi because I never keep memes on my phone lmao I just delete them after use, but the ones I make myself I keep forever. 😅

My nine no pressure tags: @stervrucht @dame-zoom-a-lot @medusapelagia @ihni @sleepy-steve @mercurialkitty @racketti @dragonflylady77 @suometar 🫶

[boffeeceans]

Dom Billy/Sub Eddie - Pretty much just an exploration of my preferred Billy/Eddie dynamic.

Explicit smut + aftercare under the cut

Ao3 link

Billy doesn't get a lot of control in his life, who he's with, what he does, where he is, it all seems to be monitored constantly. So when Billy is with Eddie, loud, obnoxious, larger than life, doesn't take shit from nobody Eddie, Billy likes to just take it. Take control, grab him by the jaw and force him on his knees, see him looking up at Billy with those big, pleading eyes, begging like a dog.

Billy can give him what he wants, unbluckle his belt, unbutton his pants, let him feel Billy's cock at the back of his throat, taste his cum, watch as it comes out of his nose, hold him in place as Eddie claws at his hips and thighs, needing to come up for air.

Or he can shove Eddie back on his ass, make him wait for it while Billy flops down on his bed and lights a cigarette. There's nothing Eddie can do about it, it's Billy's choice.

He can jerk him off in front of the mirror, have him come all over Billy's hand. Eddie gets a second to catch his breath before Billy will start fingering him open, abuse his prostate, open him wide until Eddie starts shaking, a second orgasm rolling through his body, gasping Billys name. His hole will be slick and open enough for Billy to slide his cock in with little to no resistance.

By then, Billy will have to keep him upright, an arm wrapped around Eddie's waist, free hand on his throat. He makes Eddie look at himself, see how pathetic he looks, how needy, skin all red and tears in his eyes. "Just one more, Bambi, you got this."

Eddie's third orgasm is dry and silent, his throat moaned and groaned raw. Billy bites down on his neck or shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make it hurt. He bends Eddie over the desk, let's him go limp as Billy chases his own orgasm.

Billy loves cuffing Eddie to the headboard and riding him painstakingly slow. Eddie will pull at cuffs, wanting to touch, begging for him to go faster. Maybe Billy will deprive him of what Eddie wants, keep rolling his hips at a leisurely pace, have Eddie come from minimal friction. Or maybe he'll obey, ride him fast, come first and deprive Eddie of an orgasm all together. Leave him panting and cuffed while Billy cleans himself up and goes to do something else.

When he comes back, he wraps his hand around Eddie's cock, strokes him until he's hard again, still slow. Eddie's back arches, words spilling from his mouth. "Please please please-" If Billy's feeling extra mean he'll leave again, smiling as Eddie curses at his back. Eddie will go soft again and Billy will come back and he'll leave until he's satisfied, only then will he let Eddie come all over himself.

Sometimes Billy will do what Eddie wants without compliant, hand over control. He'll get on all fours, back arched with Eddie behind him, fucking him fast and hard. Eddie burries is face in Billy's neck or between his shoulder blades, moth shooting off a mile a minute. Eddie knows what he's doing, he always leaves Billy shaking and sore in all the right places, needing a minute to get to himself. He loves it, but he won't let Eddie know that – Eddie probably already knows anyway.

Billy loves it, but it has consequences for Eddie. Billy deprives him of any touch below the waist for however long he sees fit, knowing Eddie won't touch himself, not if Billy won't let him. Eddie bothers Billy constantly, pushing his buttons, asking to be fucked. Billy will relent after a week, maybe two, maybe longer.

He gives no warning, strips Eddie in the middle of his bedroom and bends him over the edge of his bed. He gets on his knees behind Eddie, licks a wet stipe over his hole, spit in it, and plunge in a finger. He'll use nothing but spit as lube, prep Eddie just enough to not do any damage. His hand makes contact with Eddie's ass, making him yelp and leaving an angry red mark.

His cock slides in with a little resistance, slow at first, taking his time to go as far as he can, but the second thrust has Eddie crying out and gripping the sheets.

"Please, Billy, it hurts," he says through sobs, but Billy ignores him, there's only one word that will make him stop and Eddie hasn't said it. He likes this, he wants this, and Billy will fucking give it to him.

Billy's relentless, the sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out Eddie's cries. He takes a handful of Eddie's hair, calls him a slut, a whore, "Why are you crying, mh? You asked for this."

Eddie comes pathetically fast, tears streaming down his face, Billy makes sure to call him out for it as his thrusts slow.

Billy loves it all, having Eddie surrender in any way possible.

Most of all, Billy loves lying Eddie on his back, legs wrapped around Billy's waist. He'll gently nip at Eddie's neck, swallow his moans, let's the words of endearment into his lungs, his bloodstream, under his skin.

Eddie blindly grabs at nothing, eyes squeezed shut, back arching. "Gonna come," he says, voice thick.

Billy takes one of Eddie's hands in his, interlacing their fingers, coaxes Eddie to open his eyes, wanting to look at him when he comes, to hold him, to be held.

Thick fingers grip at Billy's hair, Eddie's eyes open, glassy, looking right at Billy, his mouth opens and he lets out a string of curse words before they dissipate into a moan. Eddie clenches around Billy and Billy's done for.

Without fail, no matter if Eddie is a drooling mess on the floor or is lying on the sheets, comfortable and blissed out, Billy leaves him, just for a bit, to go the bathroom and wets a towel with warm water or runs them a bath.

He wipes the towel over Eddie's stomach, between his legs, fights Eddie grabbing at his wrists, a weak attempt at pulling Billy closer. Only when he's done does Billy give in, lies next to Eddie and let's him return the favor, his shaking hands sliding the warm towl over Billy's sticky skin.

Or he scoops Eddie up, lifting him up off of whatever surface he's lying on, whether he can walk on his own or not, Eddie won't get on his feet either way. He puts him down in front of the tub and helps him, sitting behind him once Eddie's settled. Eddie rests his head on Billy's shoulders, wraps Billy's arms around his waist.

They stay until the water runs cold, taking their sweet time to wash the cum and sweat of their skin. After letting the water drain from the tub and take a quick shower to get the soap off of them.

Eddie doesn't let go of Billy, not while they dry and not when crawl under the covers.

Eddie looks at him, really looks, tired, half lidded eyes, a small smile gracing his lips. "I love you," he says in the quiet space between them.

He cups Eddie's cheek and kisses with a softness he thought he lost long ago, one that suddenly returned when meeting Eddie and subsequently falling in love with him. "I love you too."

He loves all him, every inch of his skin, his tears, his smiles, his moans. He loves his rambling, his arguing, his off key singing. All of it.

The second Eddie graduates they're out of here, just a few more months before Billy can take Eddie and the few of his belongings to California. He'll make him laugh, fuck him in every motel they stop at, or at side of road, down him in love until he fucking chokes on it.

Billy can choose to whisk Eddie away from this place that doesn't appreciate him enough, he can choose to love him and Billy will be damned before anyone stops him.

[alice-the-brave]

“I don’t know,” she hums, licking at a stray drop of melted ice cream running down her hand, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it seems like you want to see Steve.”

He pauses, bottle halfway to his lips, still staring down the road. He turns slowly, stares at the side of her head where she’s intent on her ice cream, innocent and unbothered. Pretending she didn’t say something that even just a few months ago would have turned this all ugly. Still might.

            “Good thing you do know better,” he says, voice low and warning.

She frowns at her ice cream, glances up at him, something defiant and stubborn in her eyes.

            “You’re allowed to be friends with him, you know.”

He flinches at the weight of her gaze, at the knowing look in her eyes.

It had been her fault they’d moved. Because Dad hadn’t liked her dad being so close. Hadn’t liked another man having any kind of claim on his wife, or his daughter. But also because Max had always been too smart. Had always seen Billy a little too clearly. She had looked at him, and the people he hung around, the company he kept and had asked questions. Had asked Susan. Susan, who as always, had asked his Dad.

Neil Hargrove hadn’t ever made a habit of asking Billy anything.

            “I don’t need you to tell me what I’m allowed,” He spits, slamming the bottle down on the roof of the car hard enough that she jumps, eyes wide and surprised, as if she’d forgotten what he was like, “You need to learn to mind your fucking business or I swear to God, Max, you’re going to regret it.”

            “You think I don’t?”

That draws him up short.

            “What?”

            “You think I don’t know that half the reason your dad moved us out here was because of what I said?” She aska, crunching the ice cream in her hand into sad, wet crumbs on the gravel. “I didn’t think – I mean. I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know he’d – that he’d do that. Any of it.”

She doesn’t look at him as she says it, turns to frown at the gravel below them, like the dirt can hide the way she looks afraid.

It had been the first time Max had really seen how bad his Dad could be. She’d seen him scold Billy before, seen him threaten things, seen him slap him upside the head or push him around. But until then he’d been careful to never really let her see how bad it could get.

But that night, Max had seen it all. That night, Neil had been so incensed by the very idea of what she had inadvertently implied about his son, that he’d forgotten to pretend to be a decent fucking person.

Billy remembers, vaguely, hearing her crying, hearing her yelling something, and Susan dragging her away. He remembers her face in the waiting room of the hospital, the pale, wide-eyed look she’d given him. The way she flinched away from not only Neil but Susan too.

            “I didn’t think mom would say anything to him about it,” she says, fists clenching in her pasty freckled lap, “I didn’t think she’d let him do it.”

He stares at her for a moment. Tries to think past the rushing of his blood, the immediate anger in his gut.

            “Which part?” He asks, and she turns to him quickly, brow furrowed. “You didn’t think she’d let him do which part?”

            “I didn’t think-” she stalls out, looks away, clenches her sticky hands on her thighs. “I didn’t think she’d let him hurt you like that.”

He stares at her, baffled.

It had never occurred to him that Susan might try to stop him.

She tried to diffuse things, sure, tried to head off arguments before they got past stern words and threats, but Billy had always thought she just wanted to avoid the ordeal of it all. Thought that she was scared of breaking her façade of peace.  

He had never expected her to really step in. He’d only ever wondered at her staunch witness to it all. Her refusal to walk away, even as she stood in the corner like a pale-faced wraith, unmoving unless it was to get Maxine out of the room. 

He'd never expected her to step between Billy and his Dad, never expected her to speak against a single thing that he decided to do. 

Neil Hargrove got what he wanted, always. 

But for the first time it occurs to him what that must have looked like to Max. 

Billy’s Mom was the only good thing he’d ever had in this life. She’d tried to defend him from his Dad, tried to stand against him. She’d bit and spit and screamed and hadn’t let him get away with it, not without a fight.  

She’d been his only defense. Right up until the day she left. 

Max had Susan, who had been her confidant, her safe place. He remembers the way Max used to hide behind her when Neil came around, remembers the way she would tug at her hand and whisper.  

He doesn’t remember when she stopped. 

Can’t pinpoint the day she realized her mother wasn’t safe. That she wouldn’t protect her from Neil, wouldn’t keep her secrets, wouldn’t fight for her. Susan never bit back, she never screamed in defiance. She never shielded Max with her own body, never told a soul what happened behind closed doors. She had thrown away both of their lives and torn Max away from the only people who could have saved her from the prison they all lived in. 

Which is worse, he wonders, staring at her glassy blue eyes, tears all dried up. Which is worse, really, being abandoned and left to the wolves, or being abandoned and having her stick around to watch you die? 

He at least could pretend that his Mom might come back for him, that she was bidding her time, that she hurt as much as he did. When he was small and angry and terrified he could pretend that she had made a mistake, that she hadn’t meant it. 

Max had to stare Susan in the face every day and reckon with her betrayal. She didn’t get to pretend.  

“You never think,” he says, turning away, staring up at the cliffs again. 

The birds are loud here, the forest alive in a way that belies the ominous air it exudes at night. Here, in the sun and the chirping of birds, the rustling trees and animals seem serene. It’s enough to make the midnight gloom of it seem like a dream. Enough to make the memory of Harrington standing in the shadows holding a bat caked in dried blood seem false, imagined. Enough to make the memory of Maxine, trembling and fierce and drowned in the blood of his Father seem like a hallucination. Like the strange, dark dreams he has on fever nights, when the sickness and the broken bones stir dark things in his sleeping mind. Impossible things. Things that make him shake and shiver with fear, with horror. It doesn’t seem possible. Seems like a nightmare. She’s getting sunburnt, sitting there on his car, hair up in a scrunchy, wearing his sunglasses. Her hands are sticky with ice cream. Little girl hands. Like they ought to be. 

“Sorry.” She clenches her hands in her lap, fiddles with the hem of her shorts. 

He stares at her for another moment. Breathes. Thinks. Doesn’t let himself spit and snarl, though the urge to is choking him.  

How many times are they going to do this? Wander in circles, biting and snapping and begging for forgiveness, back and forth, forever. He thinks it might drive him crazy. That they can’t just get past it all, that even though his Dad is gone – even though they aren’t going to have to step on each other just to breathe the clean air anymore – there’s still so much rot between them. He wonders why she bothers. Thinks, maybe, that she won’t leave, no matter how vicious he is, just because she’s just as bad. Just because she’s never known when to drop it. Never thought anything through. 

Mad Max, the daredevil, fearless and headstrong and going nowhere fast. 

“Put on your sunscreen,” he says, instead of any of that, reaching into the passenger seat through the open window and tossing the bottle at her. 

She catches it clumsily and tosses back the bitchiest look a fourteen-year-old can muster. 

“You sound like Steve,” she sneers, not as harsh as she usually might.  

Like she’s still testing the waters. 

He snorts and snatches his sunglasses off her face, slipping them on and leaning back against the car as if he’d never gone tense in the first place. 

“Fine, get burnt for all I care, just don’t bitch at me about it later.” 

She huffs and rolls her eyes, but she opens the tube without a word and he can see the edge of a smile on her face even though he isn’t looking. 

[jonathanbyersphd]

B*lly & MIKE????? Y'all are fucking sick

[cavinginhisfvce]

billy w two of his boyfriends <3

*why did dj have to choose anyway??? she could've had them both???? (no we're not gonna focus on the fact she chose steve and i made steve h. into eddie. lmao)

[amischiefofmuses]

@fleetwoodfantasy continued from [x]

Any optimism that it may have been some foolish woodland creature is dashed the moment the girl's voice responds to him- worse still, she knows who he is. Shit. Doubled over as he is, he tries to keep his head down, to not move with the hopes that he can stave off the shift that is starting to burn under his skin. If she'd been just seconds sooner he'd not be suffering this inferno across flesh that's already battered and buised but it's a process that simply won't be put on hold. Now he's started he has to finish it. -- ❝You need to get the fuck outta here-❞ Even though he tries to keep his voice low, the pain has it coming through gritted teeth, more snarled and spat than spoken. Any pretense that he usually has is abandoned, there's no mask of the untouchable tough guy for him to hide behind. Not here. His dad will want him to kill the girl if she sees what he is and he doesn't know he can- not after promising his mom he'll never be the monster Neil is. So much for the quiet life here, huh?

[sketchy-scribs-n-doods]

billy and max were not californian enough in my humble socal opinion. like i’m not saying all californians have had my exact experience. but. come on.

where was the bitching about the cold weather and the lack of good mexican and chinese restaurants nearby. never have i met a californian that wasn’t ready to throw down for in n out when out of state ppl try to talk shit, even if it isn’t remotely their favorite burger place. i just know max would go crazy over the fuck all to do in town within a month or two. the largest city is probably hours away, cue billy quickly realizing the only entertainment at hand is shitty high school parties.

you’re telling me max wouldn’t throw a fit about the lack of giant skateparks? that billy wouldn’t take every opportunity to bitch and moan about having to get chains for his tires and the menace of ice and snow on the roads fucking up his car? billy refuses to button his fuckin shirt in november, he’s going to die as soon as the temperature dips below 35F. i know not every person from socal is as much of a bitch as i am about low temperatures but most of us are not built for temperatures below like 40 or 30F. actual snow is going to happen and max is going to eat shit trying to skateboard through it. i had to defrost my car for the first time during a cold snap last month and i thought i was losing my mind, billy is going to fucking hate what cold temperatures can do to your car, especially if you park it outside on the regular.

white bitches love mexican food, have you seen how they get about chipotle? one day billy and max are gonna be home alone and go ‘we should get mexican takeout tonight’ and suddenly realize they live in the fuckin heartland now, the chances of finding a good (let alone decent) taco place nearby depend entirely of the percentage of mexican immigrants settling in bumfuck indiana to actually open a place. or at least somebody from texas.

i desperately need max and billy throwing down for in n out. i don’t care about your opinion on it, your average bitch from california will not stand for actual slander against it. lucas tries taking max to the local diner and puts his foot in his mouth (”it can’t be that good, max”) after trying to insist that the burgers in hawkins are leagues better than whatever they had back in california. steve and billy nearly brawl again because billy fuckin loves the skinny crispy in n out fries and dares to put them above mcdonald’s fries and steve thinks he’s fucking crazy.

depending on where they lived in california, the lack of mountains would probably be something weird to get used to. travelling past the mountains and through flat land makes the monkey in my brain go ‘where big rocks go??? why so exposed??? too flat!!’ and i can’t help but think of max constantly doing double takes at the sheer amount forest around hawkins and the distinct lack of mountains nearby lol. california is huge and there’s loads of different biomes within it, but you’re not gonna find very many forests, especially in the areas billy and max probably lived in (i think in runaway max they lived in san diego? but that’s shaky half-canon at this point).

give me the weird slang differences between the midwest and the west coast. i had a teacher from wisconsin call water fountains ‘bubblers’ once and i swear it gave me whiplash. i love regional slang. idk if it depends on the person’s age or region or if its interchangeable in some places, but the face i’m picturing billy making after hearing somebody call it ‘pop’ instead of ‘soda’ is priceless. there’s also no fucking way billy hung out with californian surfers in the 70s - 80s and didn’t pick up some truly atrocious slang that pops up now and then. max thinks he sounds fucking dumb, but then billy makes fun of the fact that she can’t roll her ‘r’s and it starts another bitch fight. more of max and billy both saying ‘like’ way too much as a sentence filler and everyone else making fun of them.

i don’t know, i want more fun and interesting and annoying little things that people from different states do. billy and max moved across the whole damn country, i want more conflict from that than just the obvious issues.