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mistletouchunderthetree · 10 months ago

Text

like you've known me | rated T | word count ~25k

a @steddiebang fic coming february 29

featuring art by sharkscouts and @vesperalhemlock

Summary:

When the only way to beat the Upside Down is to erase it (and the last three years) from time, Steve Harrington is transported right back to the Fall of his junior year. His biggest problem? Everyone who had died in the last three years fighting inter-dimensional evils has no memory of the events. Suddenly, Steve finds himself with Tommy and Carol at his side and sitting mere feet away from Robin in class, and she has no idea who he is except the douchebag with the good hair that Tammy Thompson has a crush on.

With a little help from Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, Lucas, and El, Steve will learn to navigate his life, The Right Way, this time. Which friends he wants to keep, who he wants to spend his time with, and if he wants to take notes in class this time around. If that means sometimes he needs a little weed to take the edge of stress off? Well, it's a good thing he knows a good dealer.

As things finally fall into place and Steve begins to re-form the most important relationship in his life, he thinks anything strange is over. Then, Robin starts mentioning weird dreams about ice cream and torture, and Max Mayfield shows up from California with an angry step-brother and a lot of questions. Maybe those memories aren't erased, after all.

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Eleven, Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, Max Mayfield, Billy Hargrove Tags: Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, AU: Time Travel to Pre-Season 1, Post-Season 4, Impermanent Major Character Death, Fix-it, Falling In Love, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington-Centric, First Kiss, Drug Use (Marijuana), Steve Harrington VS Junior Year (Again)

Excerpt (cont. under the cut):

It had been a few weeks in the new timeline when Steve jumped at the sound of the phone ringing through the empty house. He frowned, setting down his fork and walking to the phone. It was Wednesday, Steve was sure of it, and Dustin’s calls always came on Thursdays, so who the hell would be calling?

“Hello?”

“Hi, Steve.” Nancy’s voice was soft and sweet and surprising.

“Oh. Uh, hey, Nance, what’s up?” He asked, heart suddenly starting to race – not because he had feelings for Nancy but because if Nancy was calling then something was wrong. Had something happened? Had their plan not –

“Listen, I don’t have too much time, Mom’s making dinner and I just finished up my homework, but I really wanted to call you,” Nancy said. She wouldn’t start out so calm if something was happening, right? So this was just a social call?

“Um. Why?” He asked, then winced. Since when did he forget how to have a conversation?

He could hear Nancy’s sigh through the phone. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you at school lately, and –“

“Okay, creep,” he joked, lips curling at the corners when Nancy laughed.

“Shut up, I just mean I’ve – Look, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And like I said, I’ve been watching you in the halls and stuff, and I know you’re eating lunch in the library because Tommy told everyone in the cafeteria one day –“

He what?

“- and I know the whole thing with Robin is hard for you but…”

“But what?” He prompted when she trailed off.

“But you’re moping, Steve. You’re moping all over school, and probably all over your house.”

“I – wha- I mean, that’s not true,” Steve said, frowning.

“Steve, we beat the bad guys and everybody is fine. Everybody’s alive! And you’re moping.”

“Okay, now this just feels like you’re being mean.”

“I’m not trying to be mean, I’m trying to – “ She cut herself off with a frustrated groan. “Do you even know how El is doing?”

“I – what? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s okay, Steve, but also, no, she’s not okay, because Hopper is still trying to find Owens since he’s the one that will probably know best if it’s safe for Jane Hopper to suddenly show up in Hawkins and enroll in school. So, she spends her days alone, but everyone always goes to visit her, every Saturday, at the cabin. Everyone except you.”

Steve felt tears prick behind his eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, you did,” Nancy said, sounding tired. “Dustin said he asked you to come that first weekend, and you said no, so he didn’t ask you again.”

“I don’t – I don’t remember that,” he admitted, feeling dreadful disappointment spread through his veins. “Nancy, I hardly – that first week was –“

“But it wasn’t just the first week, Steve. We’re all trying to get back to our lives but you’re just going through the motions. Even Dustin knows something’s wrong.”

“What? I talk to Dustin every week!”

“Lucas wanted to invite you to the park to play basketball and Dustin told him you probably still weren’t ready.”

Steve’s jaw dropped.

“Dustin knows you, in this timeline probably better than anyone, and he knows something’s wrong but he’s still just a kid, Steve, he doesn’t know how to deal with this.”

“Did Dustin ask you to call me?”

“No, this was my idea,” Nancy said. “I’m just a kid, too, Steve. I don’t know what to do to fix it but I want to help you, and so does Jonathan.”

“Jonathan wants to help me?” He asked, incredulous.

Nancy chuckled. “Honestly, I was as surprised as you are. But he does because despite everything, he cares about you. We all care about you, and it’s way too easy for you to hole up in your house and ignore everyone at school and… mope.”

“I don’t think I like that word anymore,” Steve said, even though it was true. His stomach twisted in knots at the sudden guilt he felt.

“Well I didn’t think you’d like it very much if I accused you of being depressed,” Nancy stated boldly, and Steve winced. “Just meet me and Jonathan at that picnic table outside of school tomorrow morning, okay? Like, twenty minutes before first bell. Can you do that?”

Steve swallowed thickly and fought every instinct in him that wanted to say no.

“Yeah, Nance. I can do that.”

Steve woke with a sense of dread hanging over him. He really didn’t want to show up just for Nancy and Jonathan to chew him out for how selfish he’d been (he could beat himself up for that without their help). But he got in his car twenty-five minutes earlier than he usually would, just to make sure he wouldn’t be late, and laughed to himself when he got to the school. He pulled into the empty spot next to Jonathan’s car. Apparently, they had the same idea.

Steve got out of his car and shouldered his backpack. He looked around; there were a few people milling about, and more cars pulling into the lot than he expected this early.

“Do people always get to school this early?” He asked by way of introduction.

Jonathan laughed and walked over to him. Nancy stepped up behind him and gave him a pointed look. “I think you’ll find that you’re just always late.”

“Yeah, okay,” he conceded. “So, uh… Picnic table?” He suggested, already feeling the stares of their classmates from around them.

Nancy and Jonathan agreed and they made the walk together, quietly taking in each other’s presence. Nancy was in between the two boys but it wasn’t as awkward as Steve expected it to be.

Maybe he really was over Nancy Wheeler, after all.

He choked on a laugh when the picnic table came into view, and they were sighted almost immediately.

“Oh,” Eddie Munson said, grabbing his metal lunchbox and dropping it near his feet. Steve snorted. Eddie huffed. “What?”

“As if we don’t know what’s in your damn lunchbox, Munson,” he said, finding himself immediately falling back into the banter he’d developed with Eddie before –

“I don’t really know what’s going on here,” Eddie admitted with an awkward, nervous laugh. “You three might be the weirdest combination of buyers I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh, we’re not –“ Nancy started, but Steve interrupted.

“I am,” he said, ignoring the looks from Nancy and Jonathan. He pulled out his wallet and made eye contact with Eddie. “I’ll –“ He paused, unsure of what to say. He’d never done this himself before. “I’ll take some weed. Uh – a joint? Uh. How much?”

Eddie looked at him with a furrowed brow and a frown on his lips. “Are you wearing a wire?”

Steve snorted a laugh. “Dude. What kind of operation do you think is being run in Nowhere fucking Indiana where a 17-year-old is wearing a wire for a drug bust on your tiny fucking lunchkit –“

“Okay! Okay,” Eddie conceded with a barely concealed laugh. Jonathan was openly laughing behind him, and Steve recognized the amused look on Nancy’s face.

Steve sighed when Eddie just kept looking at him like he didn’t believe him. “I’m being serious. If I’m not gonna have a social life anymore at least let me be high for it.”

“Amen,” Jonathan said quietly, and Steve choked down his laugh.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence where Eddie stared at his face, seemingly deciding whether or not to trust him, Eddie sighed and picked up his lunchbox. Steve let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“I’ll sell you a gram for twenty-five bucks. Do you want pre-rolled, or…” Eddie trailed off.

“Uh,” Steve said, unsure. “Yeah, that’ll probably be easier.”

Eddie opened his lunchbox and got to work rolling the joint. “Usually, it’s your friends I sell to,” he said conversationally.

“Not my friends,” Steve corrected, then awkwardly added, “I don’t have any of those.”

“We’re your friends, Steve,” Nancy said, and Steve could hear the pity that coated her voice.

“Didn’t you, like, dump him for him?” Eddie asked her, pointing first and Steve, then at Jonathan. Nancy huffed, took a breath to begin talking but Steve cut her off before she could begin.

"That's not what happened. Tommy and Carol told everyone that because they're pissed off that I don't wanna hang out with them anymore. Me and Nance are fine. Me and Jonathan are fine. Look. I know you're overcharging me so badly right now but I don't care enough to fight you on it. Can you please just sell me the weed?"

Eddie frowned. “Fifteen.”

Steve looked at him incredulously.

"What can I say? You guilt tripped me and I'm a sucker.” Eddie held out the joint. “Just. Take it."

"Thanks, Munson." Steve said, taking it and stuffing it in a zipper inside his backpack.

Eddie closed and shut his lunchbox, then stepped away from the table and gave a little bow. "King Steve."

"Just Steve."

Eddie looked at him through calculating eyes. "Just Steve, then."

The three of them waited until Eddie was far enough away before taking seats at the table.

Nancy started after a short awkward beat. "Look, start hanging out with us at school. I have mutual friends with Robin, somehow we'll get it through her head that you aren't a bad guy and then it's just a matter of winning her over again -"

"It really isn't like that; I’ve told you a million times, she's my best friend.” Steve said. “And I already just started fucking crying in front of her, I think the ship has sailed."

"Don’t say that, man," Jonathan said. "Just… give it time. Let the school get used to the new you. Maybe you can figure out if she's got a job and apply wherever she works and do whatever you did at Starcourt to make her like you."

Steve sighed. He already knew where Robin worked; she'd told him about the job she had before Scoops. "She's working at a hair salon as a receptionist right now."

"Sorry, they let Robin be in charge of answering phones and setting up appointments?" Nancy asked with an incredulous giggle.

"She doesn't last long," Steve admitted with a little laugh.

The bell rang, interrupting them and signaling the start of another day. Steve sighed to himself and stood, following Nancy and Jonathan into the school. At least he had somewhere to sit at lunch now.

And the chance to get high tonight.

#steddie #stranger things #steddie big bang #steddie bang #steddiebang23 #my fic #time travel fic

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boffeeceans · 1 year ago

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Re: Mungrove

How do they compare to each other's exes? Are they the same "type" or an upgrade/something different?

This is @shieldofiron btw

Couple questions

While Eddie has never dated before, he has admitted some of his crushes to Billy, like Chrissy and Jason, which Billy finds kinda funny because they are THE couple. He doesn't think he's a downgrade from Jason. He knows Jason is not a bad guy, and his "rivalry" with Eddie is mostly because Eddie likes to rile him up. But Jason can be so Jesus crazy sometimes, and it annoys the shit out of him.

Now Chrissy, yeah, he considers himself a major downgrade from Chrissy. Chrissy is the sweetest girl he's ever met and still has this side to her that'd work so well with Eddie. He gets jealous sometimes because he considers Chrissy to be so much better than himself. But Eddie always reassures him that there's really nothing to worry about and Billy believes him.

But yeah, Eddie does have a bit of a type; blonde, blue eyes, jock.

Now, with Billy's exes, it gets tricky. Sure, Billy has slept with some of the girls in Hawkins but neither of them know any of them enough the really compare, though Eddie does consider himself an upgrade, 'cause he's obviously the best you can get in Hawkins.

When it comes to California, it's also hard 'cause Eddie has never met any of them.

Then, of course, there's Steve. Eddie is both shocked and not surprised at all that Billy had a crush on him. But again, upgrade, I mean, the guy doesn't even know who Ozzy is.

There's also the fact that Billy admits that he may have the tiniest, itty bitty crush on Kirk Hammett.

Billy also got a bit of type; brunette, brown eyes, and maybe guitarists. They are good with their hands, after all.

#eddie munson #billy hargrove #mungrove #shieldofiron #asks #if there are any typos im sorry is 3:30 am

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sketchy-scribs-n-doods · 2 years ago

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Bee and Argie, Billy and Argyle

Arturo Guillermo Franco Valdes.

Arturo Guillermo, and a friend that calls him Guille, Artie, Argie.

A red faced Billy that pronounces Guillermo as ‘Gah-ee-ler-moh’ before learning that ‘ll’ makes a ‘yuh’ sound in Spanish.

Artie calling him Bee-yee, and later Bee, as a joke because of it.

Billy tosses out nicknames like the affection he’s never been sure how to express. But he loves the way his friend's name rolls off his tongue, the syllables strange and clunky and a challenge that Billy readily takes up. Soon, it falls full and melodic from his lips, prettier than any song he's ever heard on the old radio his mom left him with.

Mi amigo, Arturo.

Argie tells him not to sweat it, but Billy doesn’t understand why nobody else seems to want to make the effort. Like it’s too difficult, or like Argie isn’t worth the effort. Most of the other Mexican kids at school already know how to pronounce the names that give their white teachers pause, but outside of that demographic there’s a pathetic lack of effort that incites Billy sometimes.

“Don’t sweat it, bro. Not everyone can roll their Rs as good as you.”

“What, like it’s hard? Fuckin’ idiots.”

(Years later, when they find each other again, Billy will know why his old friend Argie goes by Argyle, because Argyle will nudge him with a serene little smile of his and say, “Long time no see, Bee. Your ol’ pal Artie Gyle-ermo missed you, amigo.”)

Once, early in their friendship, Billy asks Argie why he has so many damn names. Why does he need like half a dozen of them? And Argie says,

“Well, I dunno. I think it makes me pretty damn special, though. How many ‘Arturo Guillermo Franco Valdes’ do you know?”

“Just you, obviously. But that doesn’t mean much, I don’t know any other ‘William Hargrove’s either.”

“Maybe not. But it’s prolly a lot easier for some random Hargrove to be named Billy than for someone to line up a buncha random names to smash together and create a Franco Valdes named Arturo Guillermo.”

“That ‘random Hargrove’ is me, jackass!”

“Exactly!”

“At least my name’s not a fuckin’ mouthful!”

“Oh, so I’m a mouthful, am I?”

“Fuck you!”

A few months later, well into Billy's friendship with Argyle, the kid invites him over to his place to check out his new bike or something, Billy doesn't remember.

What he does remember is meeting Argyle's dad and paternal grandma, Nana Hermelinda.

It's getting colder, for California at least, and Nana insists on making the kids chocolate abuelita while Argyle's dad is at work. A much richer hot chocolate than Billy is used to, the smell is spicy sweet and warm in the air as it foams up in the pot Nana is using, instead of the mild chemical sweetness of the mugs Billy puts in the microwave when he can sneak a packet of Swiss Miss in the winter. Her worn, wrinkled hands make quick work of it, expertly spinning between them a wooden stick with rotating round bits at the end that goes into the frothy mix. Nana calls it a molinillo when she sees him looking at it, and rather than freeze up over being caught staring, as he normally would, Billy instead finds himself trying to pronounce the new word for the remaining five minutes the chocolate takes to finish. The air feels almost soft around him, pleasantly warm and sweet like cinnamon as Nana lets the mixture cool while she searches for mugs in the cabinet above them. When she offers him his own, a brown mug with a rounded bottom and pretty dotted flower designs on its shiny finish, Billy is shy and hesitant to take it. But the warmth as he wraps his chilly fingers around it is welcoming and its smells so good. The first sip is cautious, slow like he's still unsure about whether he's allowed something so warm and comforting.

It's incredible.

Billy's pretty blue eyes light up like Argyle has never seen before. He can feel his heart thump awkwardly in his chest as those baby blues shine bright in the soft yellow light of the kitchen.

Then Billy lowers the mug, and a little mustache of foamed milk and chocolate lines his upper lip. Argyle quickly forgets the brief stutter of his heartbeat and cackles at the sight.

Billy is too busy having a religious experience over his mug of hot chocolate to bother with telling him to shut up like he normally would, but he doesn't truly mind- he likes the sound of Argie's loud bouncing laughter.

Nana looks fondly at them over her own mug, sitting comfortably on a stool by the kitchen counter as Billy politely thanks her for the drink with what little clumsy Spanish he's learned from Argyle so far. She coos at him, putting down her mug as she answers in a kind, lilting Spanish that Argyle will later tell him roughly means, "Of course, love. Come here whenever you like. I will make you a mug anytime, son." Billy inhales the warm steam wafting up from the mug he holds tight as Nana places a gentle hand on his cheek and calls him mijo.

Years later, Billy still remembers it as one of the last times he'd felt so held and cared for.

#my mutuals were posting about billy's spice tolerance from his california years and i started having feelings about billy and argyle okay #here's an edited excerpt from my billy time loop fic bc of it #billy hargrove #argilly #billy stranger things #sketchy fics #many thanks to @ thediktatortot and @ stranger-rants for fueling my brainrot every fukin day lol #argyle #argyle stranger things #fuc k it tagging argyle bc i have SO many headcanon and idea about his family for the billy haters to come at me about it #its okay i have a permit:#'i'm mexican and i can do what i want'#like cmon you cant name a character argyle have him be mexican and then not explain how tf that came about #die hard had not come out yet so in world that cannot be the explaination #gotta do everything myself around here #also the bit about billy's eyes going big and bright after his first sip of mexican hot chocolate is based on a friend of my sister's #except it was her trying horchata for the first time #but i stg that little girl's eyes grew twice their size at the first sip lol she had like 4 cups of the stuff that night during the party

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littlewinter1917 · 2 years ago

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★ When am I gonna lose you? ★

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

"𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒸𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊."

Words: 7.6k

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: After everything that Billy’s done and been trough, he still struggles with the idea that he could be deserving of love or anything good. So, when his doubts and abandonment issues flare up again, you make it your mission to reassure him that you won’t ever leave, and that loving him isn’t a chore.

Warnings: Major hurt/comfort. A little angst with a lot of fluff. Billy being insecure. Talks about abandonment issues and never feeling good enough. Mentions of Billy’s past abuse, trauma and shitty parents. Some swearing and hints at past self-destructive behavior, injuries and scars.

A/N: The title and some parts of the story are inspired by this absolute masterpiece from the band Local Natives.

Read the story on AO3 here.

Billy turns around in your shared bed with a small groan, before burying his face back into your fluffy pillow and huffs.

God, this sucks.

A brief glance towards the digital clock on your nightstand tells him everything he didn’t really want to know.

It’s late. Far too late to be still lounging around in bed like this. So very late, in fact, that you’ll be back from work soon – and he still hasn’t even gotten up yet.

He knows he should. Knows he should drag his feet over the edge of the bed, and then the rest of his body downstairs, but he just can’t.

He feels exhausted and tired, and, as much as he hates to admit it, scared.

Scared that you’ll leave again.

Scared that it’s only a matter of time before you’ll walk out the door of your shared little beach house on the coast of California, and be gone for good.

He would get it, he thinks.

He wouldn’t want to be with himself either, if he’s completely honest.

And he doesn’t just mean it in an ‘I-wouldn’t-want-to-fuck-myself-kinda-way’, but on a more fundamental level, too.

There are days, where he can barely stand his own reflection in the mirror, and everything that comes with him being, well, him.

Days, where he can’t help but feel utterly and terribly selfish for even expecting another person to stick around like that; because if he’s struggling so much with his own company, doesn’t everyone else, too?

If he can’t even bear being around himself, how can you? How can anybody?

These fears come up sporadically, the voices sometimes loud and booming; sometimes quiet and small, but the truth they spit stings all the same; yet today seems exceptionally bad.

He keeps mulling over the idea that he’ll find you standing in the doorway with your bags packed and a pained look on your face.

“It’s too much,” he imagines you saying, “I love you, but it’s too much. You’re too much, Billy, and I simply can’t do this anymore. It’s not worth it; you’re not worth it. What you’re giving me isn’t enough to make up for all your flaws. I thought I could tolerate it, work around the mess you are, but it’s impossible. I get now why your mom left you Billy. I really, really do.”

Billy feels his throat tightening, as his breathing picks up; the mere thought itself has his heart feeling like it’s going to give out.

And not in a fun way.

Fuck.

He’s quickly blinking hot tears away, and it makes him hate himself even more.

Weak, he thinks, with his father’s voice.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

Such a disappointment.

And you’re going to leave. Sooner rather than later you’re going to leave.

He‘s going to lose you at some point in time. It’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when.

When is he going to lose you?

When are you going to realize just how worthless he really is? How much of a bother, a burden, an impossible obstacle to any happy relationship, his mere presence provides.

How much you’re better off with someone else.

Anyone else.

Anyone else but Billy.

And Billy himself can’t quite say when the doubts and fears started piling up in his mind with such an intensity again, leaving him with a deep and utterly overwhelming feeling full of unease in the pit of his stomach; one that’s so heavy, it almost renders him immobile.

He’s curled up completely on your shared bed, face pressed into your pillow, because it smells like you, and that’s normally something that calms his racing thoughts down a bit.

But not today.

No, today it feels like even that is taunting him, because how much longer is he going to have that luxury; that luxury of you around and a part of his life. Staining his heart and mind with happy memories that used to be so hard to come by for Billy.

Memories he doesn’t deserve.

And how much longer is he going to wake up in a bed, so utterly soft and warm, with you by his side? There are little pieces of you all over your shared space, things that normally remind him of how you’re still here. Despite how difficult Billy is to love, you haven’t left yet.

Yet, he thinks, a bitter laugh stuck in his throat.

But you will.

You will leave, because everybody ultimately does, and he can’t blame them. Not if he’s the one they’re leaving.

His thoughts still linger on the way this all might play out; on the way you’re going to leave him, too.

Will it be a big fight, like the ones with his dad? Or will you sneak out and vanish in a more quiet fashion, the way his mom slipped out of the shared house, he foolishly used to call home, and then never came back.

He has to choke down a sob at the memory of his mother – that part of his past still hurts more than the one with his dad, at least on an emotional level.

Maybe it’s the betrayal, he thinks, because he never expected that kind of treatment from her.

His dad? Yeah, sure. That guy never really gave two shits about him. Depriving him of even the tiniest scraps of affection, or love, or praise, or anything that a kid might desire from the person he looks up to the most.

But his mom? That beautiful and kind woman, with a smile so bright and warm, like the Californian sun. The woman that would kiss him goodnight, lips lingering on his freckled forehead, and tuck him in with a hushed, gentle voice and loving words.

He never thought that she would just leave like that, leave him to fend for himself in the claws of a monster all on his own.

A monster she knew all too well.

A monster she chose, not him.

Nevertheless, she abandoned Billy without much of a second thought, because otherwise, she would have come back for him, wouldn’t she?

But she didn’t and that realization still hurts.

It's the kind of hurt that burns in his chest like the tears spilling from his eyes. And it has his hands clenching into angry fists, burrowed deep into the sheets.

Hands that are still adorned with scars.

Little scars and big ones, faint ones, and deep ones.

Scars, from all the fights he’s been in and all the times he punched his mirror too hard, in a helpless fit of rage, because he couldn’t stand the person staring back at him.

Because all he could see was a boy worth leaving and abandoning, someone who was actually deserving of all the mistreatment he got.

Scars, from the many times when, in a desperate attempt to keep his frustrations at bay, his hands would unconsciously tighten around a random glass or beer bottle, or anything delicate enough to break and shatter in his unyielding grip, leaving both his floor and his palms bloody and scattered with shards.

But his dad never cared about his hands, only about the stains on those ugly and dusty carpet floors, of all the places Billy has only ever known as hell.

Billy tries to stifle his cries by burrowing his face deeper into your pillow. Staining the fabric with his tears, its baby blue color turning a slightly deeper one.

Fuck, you’re going to come home soon, he remembers, and he tries not to consider what might happen if you find him like this.

Maybe this will be the thing that has you leaving him, he thinks, and the thought only makes him cry harder. Small sobs shake his strong body, shoulders shaking in defeat, and a deep-seated sadness and fear of never being good enough.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Chomper, your little shark stuffie, sitting unsuspecting at the edge of the bed, and without really thinking, he grabs the little fellow and pulls him close to his bare chest.

The fluffy object smells even more like you, soft and sweet and light. And the tears keep coming while he convinces himself that this is it.

You’re going to leave him.

There’s no way you won’t after seeing him like this, again.

It’s a thought that keeps spinning in his mind, like a cursed merry-go-round, with no means to escape it.

It had all started this morning, he thinks, when he woke up with unusually many doubts. Small, ugly whispers that told him all kinds of hurtful things.

He knows those voices, like he knows their words to be true, even if he has been able to manage them a little better.

But despite that, he's still prone to believe them when they say that he’s the worst; and that you’re ultimately going to leave him once you’ve come to your senses and realize the truth.

The truth about how deep, deep down he’ll always be an unlovable and unworthy mess; too difficult to love and cherish for even the most patient and compassionate person on the planet.

Which is you.

In his eyes, it’s always you.

Always.

He doesn’t deserve you, never has, never will, but it’s nice to pretend that he does sometimes, and occasionally he even finds himself believing that there could come a time, somewhere in the distant future, where he might actually find himself deserving of your love and kindness.

But not today.

It seems completely far-fetched now, an impossibility really, and the weight of it all has Billy feeling absolutely crushed.

Maybe he should have told you, he thinks.

Earlier today, in the morning, when you had woken him up with your usual soft kisses and even softer touches, when you two shared little giggles and loving stares, before you had to get up and get ready for work.

He had watched you, his features full of adoration, as you slipped out of his oversized metal shirt and into a flowy skirt and a silky blouse.

His blue eyes following the quick movement of your fingers as you buttoned up the fabric, and he immediately itched to take it off again.

You had given him a gentle smile through the mirror of your vanity, when he couldn’t help a little yawn slip from his lips. Putting aside the blush you had just picked up; you made your way over to his side of the bed once more.

He remembers gazing up at you, through his long lashes, and the gentle smile that was back on your face made his heart speed up, and his mind a little dizzy.

“Should I’ve not woken you up, love?” You had whispered, your hand gently brushing some wild, curly strands out of his face, and as usual he instantly leaned into your touch.

Nuzzling the palm of your hand before leaving a lingering kiss there.

The little affectionate action had your eyes soften.

After years and years of abuse, and growing up with the notion that human touch was something to be feared rather than cherished and enjoyed, the fact that Billy’s now actively seeking out the thing he used to hate so much has your heart jump in little leaps of joy.

God, how you love him.

But you silently notice that he looks a bit tired, and you feel a twinge of worry bubble up in your chest.

You always wake up together. It’s one of those little rituals that somehow just stuck. Even on days where it’s your time off from work, or Billy’s, you still wake up with the other person.

Today is such a day; it’s Billy’s day off from work at the car repair shop, but unfortunately, the same can’t be said for you.

Work calls, and you have to answer, which means you still have to finish getting ready, although you’re putting that on the back burner of your mind for now, as your eyes are transfixed on Billy.

He’s so pretty, and kind and utterly yours, and you still can’t quite believe it.

You carefully lean over him, brushing your nose gently against his.

“Love you, Billy.” You whisper, “You can go back to sleep if you need to, you still look a little tired, sweetheart.”

“’S okay,” Billy mumbles, voice raspy and tinted with sleep.

The deeper octaves of his voice always have the thoughts in your head spinning around themselves, and this time is no exception.

But before you can dwell on that too much, Billy’s calloused hands come up to your neck, pulling you down for a messy kiss.

“Stay,” he whispers, as usual, as always, and you can’t help but smile against his lips.

“You know that I can’t, Billy,” you draw the syllables of his name out for emphasis, before capturing his plump lips back in another searing kiss.

“Even though I really wish I could.”

When your eyes find his again, the look behind yours is earnest.

Still Billy sighs.

It’s not an accusatory sigh, just a little disappointed one.

And he’s not disappointed at you, but disappointed at those mean circumstances of live.

Like the fact that you two have to work for a living, instead of being able to spend the rest of eternity at his two favorite places, the beach, and your shared bed; and maybe his trusted Camaro too, because that’s the first taste of real freedom he ever had, after his mother left. The first safe haven he got, and used thoroughly to escape his father’s abuse.

There were times in his life, where he spent more nights curled up in the backseat of his car than in his bedroom at his father’s house. A place he refuses to call home.

But as much as he hates that man, he unfortunately calls his father, Billy thinks the abusive piece of shit might have been right when he told him about what an absolute disappointment he was.

Not just as a son, but as a human.

An utterly, disappointment of human.

And a broken one too, if the countless tears he’s shed are anything to go by.

Billy had noticed these thoughts coming up, while you were still playing with some strands of his hair, before untangling yourself from him with a small sigh.

“Gotta finish getting ready, love,” you’d explained, voice apologetic, yet entirely unaware of the troubled war that’s been breaking out in Billy’s mind.

Taking it over and corrupting it.

He continued watching you get ready, but there’s something else swirling around in his stomach now.

Something different than the previous pure love and admiration.

Something a little more ugly. A neediness, a longing, a fear of watching you leave.

He wanted to call out to you and tell you about it, but he just felt so stupid. All he remembers instead is the quick kiss you gave him, before rushing out of the bedroom, while trying to put your earrings in place.

“I’ll try to leave a little bit more early this time,” you had promised, halfway through the bedroom door, turning around to him again and giving him one of your blinding smiles.

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself later, love.” The tone of your voice was teasing, but the look in your eyes was kind and loving, and Billy felt his heart clench at the sight of it.

He doesn’t deserve you.

And there’ll come a time where you’ll realize that too, and you’ll leave.

It’s a thought that his mind fixates on, as he literally watches you leave, your skirt flowing lightly behind you with every step you take; every step that’s taking you further and further away from him, as the ugly voices in his head grow louder and louder.

And by the time he hears the front door opening and closing again, he feels like crying.

You’re in a cheerful mood today, humming a little pop tune as you’re getting home from work, making your way through the entry of your house, excited to reunite with Billy, and maybe enjoy some warm rays of the afternoon sun outside.

“Billy, I’m back!”

Dumping your handbag unceremoniously next to your shoes that you just slipped out of, you make your way into your shared living room, but there’s no sight of the man you call your own.

Weird.

He’s not in the kitchen, and since there’s no rock music blaring from the garage, you’re sure he isn’t in there either.

Maybe he’s outside, enjoying the ocean you live so incredibly close by, you think, as you make your way up the stairs to get to your bedroom and change into something more comfortable and beach appropriate.

You’re still humming along to the song that’s somehow stuck in your head while thinking about your bathing suit choices. There’s a new one you’ve got as a little surprise for Billy and-

You halt in your thoughts and movements once you’re standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom.

It looks exactly the way you left it, roughly eight hours ago.

The shutters are still closed, light only slipping through its narrow gaps, painting stripes across the bed, and it’s only then, that you notice the rough shape of a body lying in it.

Billy.

At first, you don’t think too much of it.

He’s prone to having migraines and sleeping them off even during the day, or at least trying to. He’s also turned away from you in such a way, that you don’t get to see his tear-stained face or any other indication that he’s anything other than okay.

You still whisper his name quietly into the partial darkness of the room, but there’s no reply; no movement, no nothing, and you figure he must be asleep.

You don’t mind the idea of a little shuteye yourself, so you carefully slight into the bed behind your boyfriend. Spooning him tenderly, mindful, not to wake him with any abrupt movements or heavy sounds.

Nuzzling his shoulder softly, your hand finds its way across his bare chest, and you feel your stomach drop, falling from somewhere high up in the sky.

His heartbeat is going at least a million times a minute; maybe two.

It’s pounding away in his chest with such intensity, that it has you sitting up quickly.

Your hand still lingers on that spot, trying to make sense of the thumping underneath your fingertips. Why is his heart beating so ferociously when he’s supposed to be asleep?

He’s either having a nightmare, you think, alarmed, or he isn’t sleeping at all.

“Billy?” you whisper, leaning over your boyfriend carefully, trying to get a glimpse of his face.

And if you felt your stomach drop from airy heights before, it is now sinking to the deepest and darkest part of the ocean floor, as a cold shiver rushes down your spine.

Despite keeping his eyes shut tight, you can still see the tears slipping through between his lashes, running down his freckled-kissed skin.

You can see the way he’s biting his lips to keep it from trembling and making any sound.

And you see him clutching your stuffie with such despair that you feel like your heart’s now lying completely shattered in bits and pieces somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.

Oh, this is bad.

“Billy?” You try hard to keep your voice even, to not let the panic or worry you currently feel fall through your lips.

But Billy’s just pressing his closed eyes tighter together, the tremble of his lips increasing, before hiding his face more in the soft confines of your pillow.

Oh, this is really, really bad.

“Sweetheart,” You don’t really think about your next steps, apart from trying to do them as gently as possible. Moving over Billy’s frame carefully, in order to be able to face him fully.

He still tries to hide away from you, but that’s not something that deters you from your plan.

Not after having been with him long enough to know him inside and out. To know that he craves a gentle touch on the best of his days, and he absolutely hungers for it on the worst ones.

“Billy, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You keep your voice as gentle and as soft as you can manage, while you feel like your world is spinning out of control, worry clouding your mind.

The man in question just shakes his head, before mumbling, the tiniest, most broken “Nothing,” you’ve ever heard.

And you both know that it’s bullshit.

Billy is a lot of things right now; but okay isn’t one of them.

“Billy, my love, look at me, baby.”

You nudge his shoulder lightly with your nose before cupping bis cheek with the gentlest touch.

And you both know that there’s nothing you can’t coax out of Billy with a voice as soft as your touch, so you keep talking to him gently, almost as if you were talking to a frightened child or a hurt animal, maybe.

And as usual, it works.

As soon as he’s looking up at you slightly, and he’s less curled in on himself, you wrap your arms around him protectively and Billy instantly folds.

All it takes is another whispered, “Shh, come here, I’ve got you, love,” and the way you tenderly guide his face towards the crook of your neck, and he breaks.

He completely breaks down in your arms, clinging to you tightly, and his quiet sobs pull on your heartstrings repeatedly and with such an intensity, you’re almost sure they’re going to snap.

You still don’t know what’s wrong; still don’t know what’s got him so upset. You don’t know if he’s physically in pain or mentally, or maybe it’s an unpleasant combination of both.

You’re going to find out eventually, but right now you just want to help him calm down. Let Billy cry it out and then maybe talk about it, once he’s in a better headspace.

“Shh, it’s alright Billy. You can cry, I’ve got you. You can let it all out, love. Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby.”

Billy sniffles, tears still dripping down his cheeks and into your silky blouse. You don’t pay it any mind, and even if you did it wouldn’t matter. There’s literally nothing as important to you as Billy.

You keep the stream of reassuring words coming. Your hands are still tenderly stroking his cheeks and playing with his hair carefully.

You’re not sure how much time passes, as you continue your tender ministrations; but the sun’s still shining outside, slipping through the cracks of your shudders, when Billy’s sniffles and sobs finally cease.

He’s quiet for a little while longer, as you keep drawing comforting circles on his back, and then he suddenly mutters, voice hoarse from all the crying:

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

You halt in your movements for a split second, unsure of what he’s referring to.

“What do you mean, love? Tired of what?” You question gently, looking at Billy for clarification.

“Tired of loving me,” he whispers, and that’s it.

There are tears in your eyes now, too.

“Oh, Billy.”

So, that’s what this is all about, you think, as you pull your boyfriend impossibly closer.

You know, he has abandonment issues, that was made pretty clear when you first started dating, but with time and reassurance things have slowly become better. Not perfect, but better.

Billy isn’t as jealous of other people anymore, especially men that you’re friends with. Something that had been a bit of an issue at first.

It had taken Billy a long time to let you in, because keeping you out was less painful.

You can’t lose something you don’t have.

Can’t get left by someone you never truly considered yours in the first place.

But once he did let you in, things weren’t immediately all sunshine and rainbows.

Billy could get jealous, incredibly jealous.

It’s partly because he’s convinced that he’s the worst, and literally anyone would be better than him by default, meaning also that anyone could be a threat to your relationship.

It’s that kind of a fear, that made him turn accusatory, convinced that you’d leave him as soon as a good enough person or chance arose.

But his jealousy and possessiveness were also partly rooted in the fact that he never really got to witness any healthy relationship dynamics.

Because the relationship he had to his father was anything but; and the relationship his father had to women was anything but.

And the only glimpses of a somewhat constructive relationship he ever really got to see was the relationship Max had to her mother Susan, and even that one wasn’t perfect, yet it left him with the bitter taste of jealousy.

And all these influences had an effect on the way he considered you his, and how losing you wouldn’t just hurt his feelings; but also his sense of pride, his ego, his fucked-up view of masculinity and manliness.

Because what does it say about him as a man if he can’t even keep his girl faithful?

But there are things you can take and there are things you refuse to take, and so you sat Billy down early on in your relationship and made it very, very clear what you’re able to tolerate, and what you simply won’t.

You know that he’s been traumatized, and growing up with a father like that is bound to leave some lingering scars on both his body and his mind.

But that doesn’t mean he gets to repeat cycles, or fall into unhealthy patterns and make you the scapegoat for his insecurities.

He’s never laid a hand on you - if that was to happen you would be quicker out the door than you can say ‘abusive piece of shit’, but Billy still had things to work through.

Anger issues, jealousy, an impulsiveness paired with a complete lack of risk awareness, and self-destructive tendencies that you can’t just eradicate like that.

As someone who struggled with some of the same problems, you would know. So, you always understood parts of his troubles, know how difficult those impulses truly can be. How overwhelming the need for some kind of relief can be in the heat of the moment without really thinking or caring about the consequences that might follow.

And, you know, Billy’s trauma has him preprogrammed to believe that he’s the worst, a failure, an unlovable mess, and overall, just one big disappointment.

How could he not get that impression when that’s all he’s ever been told by his father, who happened to be the only constant in his life.

You loved Billy - still do, of course, and so you always considered him worth it; worth the work that it took to get him to change some of those behaviors and beliefs.

Unlearning things, relearning things, but some things will always linger around in his mind to some extent.

Like parts of those ugly and persistent voices that are quick to judge him, and the self-destructive impulses that might follow in order to get them to shut up.

So, all you can do to help in those moments is trying to sooth him. Sooth those whispers in his head and get him out of that ugly cycle of self-loathing and hatred.

Make him see and realize that you’re there, and that no matter what, you won’t leave; that your love is a lot stronger than the voices in his head. Reassuring and reminding him of your feelings, your unwavering commitment to him, and all the things you love about Billy.

Because you do. You really, truly love him.

He’s the best man you’ve ever known.

And you try to make him see that; see the person that he really is, and not the failure that his mind keeps taunting him as.

“Oh, Billy,” you repeat your hushed whisper.

“Oh, Billy, no.”

“Billy, I won’t ever get tired of loving you. In fact, not even three million eternities will be remotely enough. Nothing ever will be. I’ll never get enough of loving you, sweetheart.”

You carefully play with some of his curls, fingers grazing the nape of his neck, and Billy cuddles up more into you. He’s been starved of loving touches for so long, that it sometimes still leaves his mind reeling.

“I’m never going to leave, Billy,” you promise in a quiet whisper.

“How would you know?” Comes Billy’s broken mumble, and on a regular day he might feel ashamed of being so needy, so clingy, so utterly hungry for any kind of validation, but right now, he just wants to hear you say it, and maybe silence those ugly voices in his mind.

Remind him that he’s human even if he feels like a monster, even if he feels completely unworthy of your love.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you whisper, voice patient, and soaked with love, dripping with love, absolutely overflowing with love.

‘I know this, because I love you, silly.’ You want to say, but you know, that that won’t be enough, so you try to remind him of something else, that might make him see the man you see, and love and cherish with absolutely no bounds.

“Remember our first trip to California?” you mumble, your breath tickling Billy’s ear.

He hums as he curls up closer, hands tightening around you.

Of course, he remembers that trip. It was quite a few years ago, back in the mid-eighties, the summer after he had turned 19, he thinks, or maybe it was 20. He had finally managed to safe enough money to get out of the ugly claws of his father, and by some miracle, you two also had enough cash put aside for a small road trip to the west coast.

“We weren’t together then,” you remind him softly, “You were still keeping me at arm’s length at first.”

Right, Billy thinks. What a complete fool he was back then. The two of you had started out as a seemingly unlikely pair of friends, but it quickly grew into something more; something you both had been in denial about.

Billy most of all.

Well, he did know that he liked you, like a lot.

He just never thought you would reciprocate his feelings, and besides that relationships never actually work out, so why try them at all, really?

And it would save himself the heartache of watching you leave again.

“We were sleeping in your Camaro a lot, because we couldn’t afford even the stingiest motel rooms, and you would torture me with Metallica and I would torture you with Van Morrison, and I would literally have to fight you to get to play my Janis Joplin tape, you absolute buffoon of a music critic.”

You playfully poke Billy’s side, and a little laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in his chest.

“I remember that,” he admits, “You know I never actually thought she was that bad, I just liked to annoy you, I guess.”

“Oh, I know, babe. I know.”

You look at him lovingly, and Billy feels his heartrate pick up, but this time it’s not in an act of anxiety, or worry; he just really, really adores you, too.

“And I still remember how we were cruising down the coastline, windows open, music blaring, and we were both singing our hearts out to More Than a Feeling at the top of our lungs.”

“Oh god,” Billy croaks out with a small groan, “I remember that too,”

The little smile on his face is earnest, and you trace your fingers gently over his freckled skin.

“And it was electrifying because driving with you always feels a little bit like flying. It’s quite the near-death experience, really. And you wanted to show me that one particular beach, like really, really badly, remember?”

“Yeah,” Billy whispers now, because he thinks he knows where you’re going with this.

It’s the night of your first kiss.

“And we would drive up to that place, but one of my stupid Flip-Flops broke, and you had to carry me to the beach because the sand was just so fucking hot.”

“And you were a giggly mess, scared that I might drop you.”

“I sure was, but you didn’t. You promised me you wouldn’t drop me, not for anything in the world, and you didn’t.”

Billy’s eyes soften at the memory and the vulnerability of your voice.

“And you didn’t tell me why you wanted to go to that place in particular, but I knew that it must have meant a lot to you at some point in time.”

Billy nods his head in agreement. It was the beach his mom would usually take him to, but you didn’t know that then.

“And the view was absolutely breathtaking! But we were both such idiots that we forgot our beach towels in the car, and neither of us wanted to go back, so you stripped yourself of your t-shirt in order to make me a makeshift one.”

Right, Billy had completely forgotten about that detail, if he’s honest.

“We would sit by the water, and just talk, until a little boy ran up to us, because he couldn’t find his parents. And he was distraught, and scared and crying, and we were both struggling to calm him down again. But for some reason he ended up being mesmerized by your fucking earrings, and the traces of your skull tattoo. And when he saw the scars on your back, he asked completely in awe-“

“Are those from fighting monsters?” You both finish the sentence, voices emotional.

“And Billy, you looked at him with tears in your eyes, and whispered, ‘Something like that’ and from there on out the little guy was completely taken in with you.”

Billy’s quietly crying again, and so are you, sniffling away and using the sleeve of your blouse as a stop to your tears, before Billy’s hands gently come up, cupping your cheeks, and wiping away the salty specks from your skin, with the most tender touches.

“We searched the whole fucking beach for his goddamn parents.” Billy continues, with a faint laugh. “And he would hold on to me for dear life, and his hand was so utterly tiny in mine.”

“At some point he was getting really tired, so, you decided to pick him up and carry him, and he ended up falling asleep on your shoulder; That probably was the softest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” You admit, voice, and gaze full of adoration for the man in front of you.

“When we finally found his parents, they were so utterly grateful. Yet you still observed the interaction warily, when the boy ran up to his dad, because you thought he might get scolded.”

“But he didn’t. His father just hugged him really tight, and told him how worried he was and that he loves him very much.” Billy finishes with a small sob.

He remembers that interaction so vividly, because it still stands in such stark contrast to his way of growing up.

It somehow serves as both, a painful reminder of what could have been, and a hopeful one of how he wants to do better.

Of how he can do better.

Not every father or man has to be as inherently bad as his.

And so, he doesn’t have to be either.

“They wanted to treat us to dinner, but we both refused, and the little boy, Nick! Nick was his name, wasn’t it? Well, he was waving at us with the biggest smile, when they left.”

“Yeah, and I broke down crying afterwards.” Billy adds, slightly embarrassed, but you shush him gently.

“You had every right and reason to. That whole interaction brought up a lot of stuff for you.”

“That night I talked to you about my mom for the first time.” Billy whispers.

“I know, and we were both bawling our eyes out by the end of it.”

“I had never told anyone else about her before. And I was so scared to admit that I still missed her, because I thought you would judge and see me as weak and fragile and a joke of a man.”

“But I didn’t, because you weren’t. Billy, you were never weak for missing your mother, or crying about the mistreatment you had to endure from both of your parents. And Billy, you’re not weak now either. Because crying doesn’t make you weak; being scared to lose something you love doesn’t make you weak, and it also doesn’t make you a burden.”

Billy curls into you again, face pressed tightly against the crook of your neck, his breath shaky.

“Billy, I know you still struggle with coming to terms with what happened. Trying to make sense of the abuse you had to endure. Trying to figure out what you did to deserve this, but here’s the thing, Billy: You never deserved any of it.

There’s nothing you could have done as a child, that would justify the mistreatment or abuse you had to endure. There’s nothing that justifies the way your father tormented you for the first twenty years of your life.

And it’s hard to wrap your mind around that truth, when all you’ve ever been told is that it’s your fault, that you’re too much, a disappointment, an unlovable burden. But none of that is true, sweetheart.

None of it.

You’re a caring and sensitive soul Billy, you never deserved any of that. Not as kid, not as a teen and not now in your 20s either.”

“But I was like him then,” Billy croaks out, voice breaking once more. “Maybe I deserved it because I was so much like him then. Max could probably write a thousand essays on how I was the worst back when-“

“Oh, Billy,” you mumble, because you know that’s another sore topic for the man sniffling quietly in your arms.

“Billy, the way you repeated the cycles of abuse wasn’t right, but that’s also all you’ve ever grown up with. It’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and even still that doesn’t warrant the fate you got.

You didn’t get abused because you were abusive. You were abusive because you were abused. There’s a difference. You were a victim too, a victim turned abuser, but you’re not that anymore. You made amends with the people you hurt the most, remember?

Do you think Max would be in regular contact with you now, if she still considered you the threat that you were back then? Do you think she would come down here for visits if she still hated you or resented you in that way?

Billy, Max is in your life now because she wants to be. Because she cares about you. Just like I am in your life because I want to be. And neither one of us is going to leave you. None of our friends are going to leave you, and as much as you struggle with the ugly fear of getting abandoned or left behind, that’s just not going to happen.

Not anymore, because now you have a support-system who loves and cherishes you for the dorky and sensitive, car-obsessed metalhead you are.”

Cupping his cheek carefully and taking a deep breath, you state:

“Billy Hargrove I’ve loved you from the day you bandaged my foot in the changing cabins of Hawkins community pool, because I slipped on a fucking ice cream package paper, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

But you managed to make me laugh and get my mind off the persistent pounding inside my sprained ankle. And you drove me home that night, and I made fun of your shitty music taste that’s not actually that shitty.

And I fell in love with you the more I got to know you. The more I got to see you smile earnestly at my dumb little jokes and witness you open up to me more and more about your past, and your present, and your future, until I couldn’t imagine the latter without you.

Until I couldn’t imagine a future without you in my life, because you’ve been such a fucking blessing.

And on that day at the beach when nighttime rolled around and we were both lying in the warm sand, that still radiated the heat from the day, with Hawkins millions of miles away and freedom in every breath of summer night air,

you told me about all the things you’ve been through, and I admired you even more, because I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that after everything you had to endure; after everything you had to go through, you still turned out into that man I wholeheartedly love.

And I remember burrowing my feet in the warm sand, as I watched you get up to chase the waves again. And I was giggling because that’s such a stupid past time activity, but you were having the time of your life, laughing, and after having seen you cry so much that day, seeing you smile like that could have mended any heart.

And I remember you standing there, hair a salt-water kissed mess; the sky a midnight blue above us, adorned with so, so many stars. And the deep dark sea mirroring it, with the tiny lights of random ships sailing through the night. It was like they were getting lost in each other, as I was getting lost in you.

And the ocean was all we could see, and I knew that I wanted you.

I knew then that I could not, and would not be able to live a life without you in it, without you being my most important and cherished person and-“

“Then you ran up to me and kissed me,” Billy finishes with tears in his eyes.

“Then I ran up to you and kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it was the most tender and beautiful kiss I ever experienced. And I am so fucking lucky that I’ve been able to share those kisses with you every day since then.”

You gaze into the loving blue eyes of your boyfriend.

The man you’re so proud to call your own.

His eyes are still glossy, but those are different kinds of tears.

These are tears of fondness, of love, of sheer disbelief about how lucky he got.

These are happy tears.

You watch the growing smile on his face with a steady pounding in your chest that lets you know just how much you’re head over heels for this guy.

But you’re not quite done with your little speech, so you cup Billy’s freckled cheeks once more between your hands tenderly, before saying:

“Billy fucking Hargrove, there is no scenario in my mind, in which I’m walking out that door for good without holding your hand clutched tightly in mine, got it?”

Billy laughs, and it’s hearty and earnest and the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. And you know, you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to get to hear that sound as much and as often as possible.

The golden rays of the setting sun still slip through the gaps of your shutters, and it paints warm stripes across Billy’s freckled skin. You watch them move, as he leans down to kiss you, capturing your lips in a loving kiss. You can still taste the salt of your shared tears on both of them, but it’s okay. Because you’re okay, and you know Billy will be too.

He’s still going to have his bad days, of course, but like the gentle changes of the wind, and the slow turning of the tide, even those will pass, and make way for a more sunnier and happier days.

When you break apart again carefully, you find yourself smiling at your boyfriend, as an idea crosses your mind.

“So, do you want to spend the rest of the day here or…?” you question, while patting the soft sheets of your bed.

“Or, what?” Billy inquires, eyes and voice gentle and loving. “Do you have something particular in might, hm?”

“Maybe,” you tease, smile a little mischievous, before pulling him back down again for another kiss.

“And what exactly would that be?” Billy mumbles against your lips.

“Well, I was thinking, how about a battle of chasing waves, again?”

That is not what Billy expected you to say, and you both know it, but before he can call you out on it, you’re up and excitedly slipping out of your bed.

“Come on, cali-boy, the sun isn’t going to wait for us,” and with that, you’re running off, stripping yourself of your blouse, as you jump down the stairs, two at a time.

Billy’s close behind you, chasing you with a soft laugh; and it doesn’t take long for him to catch you, in the middle of your living room, arms wrapped around your waist, as he twirls you around like a child.

“You little minx,” he scolds, but it’s playful and loving and light.

And when the room stops spinning, he pulls you in for another kiss.

One that has you weak in the knees, but luckily Billy’s there to steady you.

Because, of course, he is.

He always is.

And by the time you two make it through the sliding door of your patio, Billy’s hand is held securely in yours, as you step out into the warm sand of the perfect Californian beach, golden rays on both of your skin, and bright smiles on your faces.

You’re going to be okay.

____________________________

And, that's it! If you made it this far: Thank you, I love you and I hope you enjoyed my little story!

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fluff

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

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I kinda find it funny how, if Ed didn't break up with Bella and then chase after Victoria in NM, we might not have gotten the events of Eclipse. Girl was just vibing with her makeshift "guards," and he had to mess it all up by having her see how newborn armies work and inspire her. Do you think Vic would've still would've gone after Bella if not for NM's events (and how it'd go down)? Cause low key I think it's funnier if she wasn't a danger but Ed made her into one jfksaldjf.-Sw

I think she would have.

True, Victoria comes up with the newborn army scheme after Edward chases her down to Mexico, but she also doesn't use it right away. She tests the waters in Forks for a very long time before she decides to invade.

In other words I, sigh, agree with Edward on this: Victoria was coming back to murder Bella Swan in vengeance no matter what was happening.

Without the newborn army, however, things would have played out very differently.

A Bit on the Romantic Tragedy Penned by Edward Cullen

First, a note, Edward had always intended to leave Bella. From the moment he realized he was in love with her he told himself that he would one day leave her. It was just a matter of when.

In Twilight, he's torn. He knows he shouldn't be a part of her life, that bringing her into his world almost necessitates her becoming a vampire, but he also really doesn't want to let her go. He doesn't think he's strong enough to do it.

And as Bella keeps getting herself into danger he gives himself more and more excuses.

If he's not there, then Bella will get crushed by a van or raped in an alley or eaten by bears. Her number's up, and Edward is single handedly fighting fate to keep this angel alive.

Bella needs Edward, therefore he can't possibly go.

The birthday party put things back into perspective. Edward's family is the most dangerous threat to Bella there is, Edward himself really may lose control one day and devour her, and unless she turns (which Edward absolutely does not want) then she has no future with him.

The family has to leave now.

However, if there's no birthday party, then Edward doesn't have that catalyst and reminder. He likely decides to himself that he will leave Bella after graduation, his family will move towns, Bella will attend whichever university she attends, and he will have had a few wonderful years with Bella pretending he's a regular high school boy dating a regular high school girl.

When Bella then dies a natural human death sometime later, Edward will go to Volterra and kill himself (and force the Volturi's hand when Aro refuses to do it).

Of course, he'd probably break here too, but that's a different story.

I do think without Jasper's slip up and the birthday party, that Edward would have stuck around for New Moon.

The World Without Bella's Birthday Party

Bella throws the fit she didn't in canon.

She doesn't want this birthday party, she never asked for this birthday party, AND WHY DOES BELLA ALWAYS HAVE TO HUMOR ALICE?!

Bella has had a summer filled with Alice. In canon, this was a delight, in this world Bella realizes that maybe they spend most of their time doing what Alice wants to do rather than what Bella wants to do.

Alice is clearly throwing this party for Alice's sake, everyone knows it, and Edward tells her, "Please humor my sister and be a good sport."

Isn't this party supposed to be about Bella?

Alice is terribly upset and does not handle any of this well, Edward tells Bella to be reasonable and be the better person and give Alice this party, Rosalie thinks this is all petty bullshit but has mild respect for Bella on calling Alice out on this, and Carlisle is rubbing his temples somewhere trying to let the children deal with this themselves.

In the end, they compromise, Bella's birthday is Edward taking her out to dinner at an expensive restaurant in Seattle of Alice's choice, Bella wearing a fancy Chanel dress that Alice selected for her.

Bella's still embarrassed and miserable, but at least there aren't a billion pink candles.

As a result, there's no birthday party, no papercut, and no dumping.

The next several months instead are spent with Bella and Alice in a battle of wills and a real rough spot in their friendship. Bella tries to explain to Edward that Alice treats her like a doll, not a person.

Edward, of course, has no idea what she's talking about.

Bella fails to realize that Edward also treats her like a doll and not a person.

Laurent's Scouting Mission

As in canon, Laurent is probably sent by Victoria to scout. Victoria probably never left the area which means (remember this is book universe where Riley was in California) that she never turned Riley.

Without being all over the Forks area killing hikers, probably fewer wolves are turned. Yes, the Cullens are in the area, but they've been there three years, are very non-threatening, and in that time only Sam shifted.

We don't see the deluge of shifting until after the Cullens have left and Victoria starts actively attacking the area.

(Yes, this is worthy of a meta but that meta is not this meta)

Regardless, Laurent shows up, Sam's not sure if he's one of those friends of the Cullens or not, and Laurent walks in to see that all the Cullens are there.

Just like he expected.

Because Victoria has sent him to die.

Carlisle feels a headache coming on but is not shocked to see that Laurent's eyes are red again after only a few months. (Though this explains the sobbing phone call that Carlisle got from Irina asking if he'd seen Laurent because that beautiful, perfect, man has gone missing!)

Laurent provides some weasley bullshit explanation anyway. He asks, though it's really more of a demand, that he join the Cullen coven (much larger than the Denali, very gifted, and very powerful). Carlisle says no, Laurent has to stick to the diet if he joins the coven and he has to mean it. Given Laurent's current appearance, it seems as if Laurent is not willing to do that.

Laurent then begs them to let him stay: Victoria will murder him otherwise (and oh by the way she's after your Lunchable Bella Swan). That gets Edward into action, he demands Laurent's death and that he then hunt down Victoria personally.

Carlisle politely suggests that Laurent, rather than seek shelter from them who he knows Victoria intends to cross paths with, go back to the Denali and give the diet another whirl.

Laurent flees back to the Denali, Irina is ecstatic to see him. Victoria's not even surprised.

The family discusses what to do about Victoria. Carlisle would rather not hunt this woman down on hearsay alone. Jasper thinks they should have killed her to start and letting her escape was foolishness, he told them she'd be back. Edward for once is with Jasper, Victoria must be destroyed before she can harm Bella. They look to Alice and, yeah, there's a good possibility that Victoria will be back.

Edward is torn between hunting down Victoria and protecting Bella in person. Jasper leaves before he can make the decision, which of course angers Edward beyond belief, but, well, he guesses it is what it is.

Edward decides to not tell Bella that a vampire is after her life: it'll just worry her.

Jasper's Hunting Mission

Jasper likely has a devil of a time catching Victoria, as he did the first time, because of her gift. He ends up having very long phone calls with Alice as he tries to coordinate a successful solution to this.

Because Edward never left Bella, she never sought out Jake. She never forms her friendship with Jake nor realizes the secret behind the shapeshifters.

Billy tries to give Bella a few more ominous warnings but there's no getting through to this girl.

Edward never proposes to Bella because he's intent on leaving her after graduation. He does not tell Bella this though she constantly worries about it.

He assures her they can have a long distance relationship at college (he has no such intentions).

Victoria is kept out of the Forks area by Jasper and likely takes the one obvious route left to her. She has nothing left to live for, and it doesn't matter how much terror she lives in the Volturi, if this means her death then so be it.

She goes to the Volturi and narks on the Cullens.

Victoria Narks

It... does not go as planned.

Aro placates Caius with many excuses: this girl is in her primary schooling, is the only daughter of a police chief, she cannot simply disappear.

Carlisle is likely waiting until after she graduates and can disappear across the country.

And yes, technically this James fellow had bit Bella and they had their perfect chance but... Well, Aro will talk to Carlisle, it is not breaking the law yet.

Aro travels to Forks in person with Renata, shows up on Carlisle's doorstep, and says, "We need to talk."

Aro lays down the law, this girl better be turned after graduation, and Aro can only stall Caius so long. Also, great to see you, you built yourself a coven and that's perfectly marvelous.

Edward, of course, throws a fit but the law is the law and the law just visited them for tea. Aro makes it very clear that either Bella is turned, she dies, or Aro will have no choice to take adverse action against Edward at the very least (if not Carlisle and the rest of the Cullens).

Aro also points out this is an unsustainable relationship that's not good for anybody. Yes, it's too bad the girl has no choice, but they really should have thought of that before Edward walked around strongly hinting he wasn't human.

Edward insists they vote.

The vote doesn't go the way he likes.

Esme doesn't want Edward to live in misery after Bella dies, Rosalie doesn't like the idea of turning Bella but it appears they have no choice, Jasper (via conference call) doesn't want to be the one to eat Bella and it's stupid given the VOLTURI IS IN THE ROOM FOR THIS VOTE, and Carlisle notes that it appears Bella has no other option and at least this seems to be what she wants?

They will turn Bella after graduation.

Edward smashes a TV.

They tell Edward to tell Bella, it should come from him, Edward never does.

Instead, out of nowhere, he asks her to marry him and elope. They can live on a deserted island somewhere.

Bella thinks this is stupid and says no.

Edward dies inside.

Victoria Chooses Death

Victoria is out of options, the Volturi did not come through, and she wanders out of Volterra in a daze.

She guns it for Forks with Jasper hot on her tail. If there's one thing left for her, she will murder this Bella Swan before she dies. She fails, Jasper catches up to her in Forks and murders her.

No one tells Bella.

Graduation

After graduation, Carlisle picks Bella up. Bella has no idea what's happening, Carlisle assumes she does. Carlisle lays down the game plan, she's going to take a summer abroad before school starts, travelling with Alice, then both she and Alice will disappear in an accident.

Bella asks him to hold up, what the hell is he talking about?

Carlisle realizes with dull horror that Edward never told Bella. He awkwardly explains that the Volturi personally came to visit and, well, they have to turn Bella into a vampire.

He's very sorry.

Bella's very on board with this, she asks if it can be Edward that does it.

Carlisle says no, that's not a good idea.

They stare at each other.

Carlisle cannot believe Edward didn't tell her.

Edward and Bella do not get married nor does she have sex with him as a human.

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cupidsintern · 4 years ago

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oho i would love to hear about that second one please please (and ill post a pic of my bellbottoms tomorrow lol)

its my virgin!billy fic. ill just give u some of it lmao:

the other night i cried (while thinking of having sex with you) pt. 1

Billy prayed for this.

Like, actually honest to god prayed- but in his defense he had been super drunk at the time. Drunk and crying. Alone. In his room.

One of his lower points. Definitely not the lowest.

And he hadn't put his hands together- but he was sort of sitting on his knees. Kind of.

And he’d tilted his head up to his god-forsaken popcorn plastered ceiling and blinked a couple times and closed his eyes and thought:

Please let me lose my virginity to Steve Harrington.

Shoot for the stars, right?

It had been one of those nights where he'd been at one of those parties and ended up in a room alone with one of those girls and she’d started pawing her way up his leg and he bolted.

Very subtly bolted. But still.

Made him feel sick. He took two showers.

Maybe he would have felt better if he could have just like, stared himself down in the bathroom mirror and whispered ‘what's wrong with you?’. But he knew.

Then he’d prayed.

Then he’d fallen asleep and been hungover at breakfast and was sure his dad would notice- but he didn’t- so maybe even if his prayers weren’t gonna be answered, whatever Higher Power there was, was still cutting him some slack today. On a random Saturday. Rather than literally any other day he could have used a deus ex machina.

Nobody knew Billy was a virgin. I mean technically, some of his old friends knew, back home. But they were usually cool about it, because why wouldn't you be if you'd been friends for someone that long. But no one here knew. And thank god because being 18 and still being ‘inexperienced’ would get you endless shit but they didn't. Mostly because they had no way of finding out. Billy could have bagged loads of chicks back on the gold coast and no one doubted that.

And it wasn't like Billy’d never gotten hot and heavy with anyone. It was just that. None of those people were. You know. Girls.

Nobody he could actually talk about. Especially now. Even if he had friends other than fair-weather lackeys.

And. You know. Steve.

Billy would never say he was friends with Steve outright, just because it seemed like one of those things that if you verbally confirmed it, then it would stop being true. Because he kind of couldn't believe that it was.

It was Max’s fault for making him apologize. She said she didn't want Billy and her to keep fighting so much, that she missed being friends, and it was like pulling teeth but he asked what he could do to make amends. She said to apologize to Lucas, then apologize to Steve. Billy did that.

Then Steve wouldn't leave him alone.

And it wasn't like he could keep pretending to hate Steve- he'd taken that way too far. Couldn’t exactly pull Steve aside and say “Look I know you're trying to be nice but if you don’t leave me alone I’ll start being queer about it and I can’t let that happen again.”

So Steve kept being nice.

And Billy got kinda queer about it.

He really tried not to. Honest he did. But then again maybe he didn't. Because Steve smelled like department store Christmas and if he bought a two pack of lighters he always gave Billy the second one. He’d walk over sit with Billy at lunch and always say “this seat taken?” even if there was no one else around like it was a cheesy sitcom and he was just waiting for the laugh track to kick in.

Then it got to the point that if Billy tried to avoid Steve, Steve would track him down and ask if he was okay.

“You okay, man?”

Wasn't always ‘man,’ either. Sometimes it was “California” or “Bills” or even one time “tiger,” and that shit knocked Billy out. Pulled the rug right out from under him but- “Yeah, Harrington. I’m fine. Just getting some air.”

Billy asked Max what the fuck she’d told Steve about Billys life. She said if he wanted to ask her something he couldn't just barge into her room he had to knock first so he had to leave her room, close the door, knock, and wait for her to say “yeah” to open the door again and “For the second time, Maxine. What did you tell Harrington about me.”

“Nothing,” She was being honest too. “I didn't tell him anything, weirdo. I think he just wants to be friends.”

Friends.

Which was maybe worse than enemies.

Because it meant the sad, sad reality that Billy was just some incognito perv that didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of sleeping with Steve Harrington was made even more apparent.

Then came the ‘let’s hangout’s.

Steve started asking Billy if he wanted to hang out outside of school. Like go for lunch, then maybe ditch school after lunch, just not go back and drive around for a while. Then just ditch a day of school altogether and walk around downtown. Then spend an entire school holiday walking around downtown, chasing pigeons off the sidewalk and window shopping and spending a whole two hours in the one and only record shop trying to track down a tape Steve said he remembered having in the 8th grade.

Then-

“Hey! Bills, slow down,” Steve was trying to catch up to Billy in the hall.

Billy caught a whiff of hairspray and the Cleanest Woods You'd Ever Stick Your Nose In before he even turned his head.

“What are you doing after school tomorrow?” “Light arson. Why do you ask?”

Steve smiled. “You could do some light arson at my house. Sure I have some old homework you could burn.”

Billy wanted very badly to tell Steve that ‘that is not what arson is’. But he was still kind of hung up on being invited to Steve’s house. Steve’s illusive, gigantic house to which he had never been but always secretly wanted to go.

“I’m more of a book burning guy.” Billy smiled back- couldn't help himself. “Get me your address in third tomorrow, yeah?”

Steve’s smile got wider. “Sick.”

Billy got Steve’s address passed to him by the platinum blonde that sat next to him in third period. She teased the shiny strands all to hell every morning but there were always halfway to flat by 10am. She flicked the note onto his desk kind of carelessly, which Billy hated because didn't she know it was precious cargo? But also he didn't care because it wasn't a big deal going to Harrington’s house anyway.

Steve had drawn little stars around his house address. Like it was some big Destination.

What a dork. Billy traced his finger over one of the stars before shoving the note in his pocket.

pt. 2 maybe coming soon???

#harringrove fanfic #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #my fic #billy x steve #steve x billy

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yikesharringrove · 3 years ago

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Egg the Cat

Chapter 2

Read on Ao3

Nancy flinched as an engine revved, a sleek blue muscle car pulling into the lot.

Steve let himself focus on it. It was better than dwelling on his fucking essay, his impending shitty night spent with Barb’s parents, like he didn’t feel horrible enough about that whole situation.

He watched the car pull into a space at the front of the lot.

California plates.

“Who’s that?” Steve could picture Nancy wrinkling her nose as she said it, too focused on Billy getting out of his car to turn and see it for real.

He narrowed his eyes at a young redhead getting out of the passenger side.

Billy hadn’t said anything about a sibling.

“That’s Billy. I met him last night.” He finally looked back at Nancy as Billy set off towards the school. “He found Egg downtown.”

Nancy’s eyebrows flew nearly to her hairline.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I forgot. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, Billy got her safe and sound. Still don’t know how she got out, though. Let alone made it all the way downtown.” He locked his car as they headed towards the high school, the warning bell sounding through the parking lot.

He reached for Nancy’s hand, his heart soaring when she let him take it.

Sometimes she said his hands were too clammy.

He walked her to her first class, kissing her softly by the door.

Billy glared at the tiny brunette sitting in front of him.

Steve hadn’t said anything about having a fucking girlfriend last night.

And really, Billy should’ve known. He’s a hot guy, living in a town of not a lot of hot guys. It makes sense some girl would snap him up.

It just felt like a slap in the face.

It’s not like Billy thought he actually had a chance with Steve, but now all of his daydreams, any of his dirty thoughts featuring one Steve Harrington were gonna be tainted, by this prissy fucking bitch.

Billy just spent all of his AP biology lecture boring holes into the back of her head.

He didn’t really give a fuck if people noticed, thought it was weird. He was too busy channeling all of his anger, all of his hatred onto this skinny little priss.

He hoped she could feel it, like maybe his anger gaze gave off palpable heat or something.

Based on how many times she stuck her hand up to answer every question posed by the teacher, no, she couldn’t feel the heat of Billy’s rage.

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, only to find they shared all three of their morning classes.

Because fuck Billy.

And then he had to watch, had to stand there like a stupid gay fucking idiot as Steve lifted nancy off her feet, and made out with her against her locker.

He stomped past, hoping to go unnoticed by-

“Billy!”

Fuck.

He stopped dead in his tracks, taking a few deep breaths before turning, plastering his best I am so charming and I don’t hate your girlfriend for no reason smile on his face.

Steve was all sunshiney again today. Billy mentally kicked the little voice in his head saying that sunshine is for you.

“Hey, man! How’s your first day going?” Steve had his girl tucked under his arm. She looked like a frail little bird. Billy hoped Steve’s cat ate her for breakfast one day soon.

“Well, you got mad at me last night when I called this place a shithole, so I’m just going to heavily imply it.” Steve laughed, his head tipping back a little, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Billy tried to think about his dad, tied to think about the shelf bruises on his back.

And then Steve was pressing a sheet of paper into his hand, and their fingers fucking brushed and Billy tried, tried to think of a broken arm and cops at his house, and not holding fucking hands with Steve Harrington.

He studied the paper, just to look somewhere that wasn’t Steve’s eyes. A lighter shade of brown in the fluorescent lights, a shade bordering on green.

Come and get sheetfaced.

“Hawkins parties will probably be lame compared to what you’re familiar with, but I mean, it should be fun.” Billy just nodded, eyes trained on the little ghost. “We’ll be there. Nancy and I.” Nancy. That’s a stupid fucking name. “Y’know, if you aren’t too cool for us by then.”

Steve was smirking at him a little when Billy finally looked up.

“I’m already cooler than you, Harrington.” Fuck. It sounded way meaner than Billy had wanted, sounded actually rude, not like a little ribbing. Not like a little tongue-in-cheek reference to last night. Cold shit.

But then Steve tossed his head back, and he laughed, a full belly laugh, and he clapped Billy on the shoulder, and Billy has never felt gayer in his entire life.

“Harsh, man. Real harsh. Wait ‘til I tell Egg you said that, she’ll never want to see you again .” And Steve was still smiling at him, and he had maybe, alluded to Billy seeing his cat again, which meant seeing Steve outside of school, and Nancy was looking down the hall, like this conversation was below her pay grade, and Billy wanted.

“See, that’s why I’m cooler than you. I don’t go telling my cat all my lame drama.”

“That’s because you don’t have a cat,” Steve said playfully, his face falling a bit. “Wait, you don’t have a cat, do you?” Billy shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And Steve smiled at him, and the bell rang, and Nancy rolled her eyes before pressing herself out from underneath Steve’s arm, and Steve’s big sweet eyes snapped onto her.

“I’ve got to get to Calculus.” Billy’s heart sank. They shared four classes so far.

Steve just leaned down to kiss her, one hand cradling the side of her face. Billy looked away.

“I love you.” He had to suppress a snort as Nancy said it back, her voice all pitchy and off.

But Steve reached out to clap Billy on the shoulder again.

“I better see you tonight!” And he was off down the hall, and Billy, once again, made a point not to look at his ass.

“You gotta be home by nine-thirty, okay, Shitbird?” Max rolled her eyes again.

“Billy, I know what time I need to be home by.”

“Just making sure, because you know if you don’t make curfew, I’m somehow gonna be blamed for it.” Billy had only gotten out of playing babysitter this evening when Max had nearly thrown a full tantrum at the idea of trick-or-treating with adult supervision while she’s trying to make friends.

She just looked at him sharply, her lips pursing a bit.

“I’ll be home.” Her voice had an edge to it. Billy didn’t really know how to take it.

“Be safe.” She didn’t acknowledge him, just got out of the car, a little Michael Myers heading into the swarm of children.

He pulled down the road, the party address only a few blocks from where Max was meeting her friends.

He slammed a beer the minute he entered the party, didn’t want to be sober for a second of this shitfest.

Steve had been right. This party didn’t hold a fuckin’ candle to what he frequented down in Cali.

He tried to make the best of it, beat the keg stand record, found some stupid jocks that were more than happy to parade around him all night.

He just had to get to that sweet spot, drunk enough he would actually get hard with a girl, but not too drunk he’d get whiskey dick. He didn’t need that to be his reputation in this shitty town.

He was being pulled through the crowd by some freckly fucker dressed as the guy from Karate Kid. Max had made him take her to that movie six times in the theaters. Billy had slept through it every time.

He was feeling pretty okay, the beer settling into his system, giving him a warm buzz as he studied the party. Maybe he could find some punk kids, score some weed or-

Steve Harrington.

The karate guy had shoved him in front of Steve, had said, guess who’s the new Keg King, Harrington?

Steve was glaring at the guy, drawn up to his full height, shoulders squared, all of that melting as he turned to Billy, smiling warmly at him.

Fucking sunshine.

“Nice job, Dude!” And Steve took Billy’s hand, and he pulled him into a one-armed fucking hug.

Billy was absolutely stunned. Maybe a little bit hard as he pat his hand against Steve’s back. Felt his muscles moving under his jacket.

But then Steve pulled back, his eyes trailing after his fucking girlfriend, and he was gone, followed her into the kitchen.

Billy wanted to tear out his fucking hair.

He went the opposite way as Steve, pushing through the sweaty crowd.

He really didn’t need to see Steve coddling his girl.

He shoved his way into the backyard, vaulting the low fence on the porch, making his way out of the yellowed light spilling out of the house.

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it quickly.

Fucking idiot. You knew you couldn’t have any fucking boy in this goddamn town.

But Billy had come into this town really not expecting any boy to actually catch his eye.

Not like Steve has.

Steve with his stupid big eyes, and his stupid big hair, and his stupid cat named fucking Egg. Who names a cat Egg? That’s a dumb fucking name.

Billy lit his next cigarette with the dying remains of the last one.

He thought about calling it quits, heading home early.

But it wasn’t even ten yet, and really, he needed to fool around with a chick tonight. He needed to establish himself as a lady killer.

Sleep with one girl, and the rumors would build enough that he probably wouldn’t have to fuck any others, just not deny it when any girl claims they had a wild night of passion.

It was safer that way. Gave him some cushion.

Then, if any of the lies began to unravel, he’ll just fuck another one, and let the rumor mill do its trick.

Besides, he can find a brunette, make her take it from behind. If he’s lucky, the party’ll be loud enough he can tune out her moans, picture someone else, picture him -

The backdoor slammed against the wall as someone stomped outside.

Billy just took another deep drag, hoped he wouldn’t be noticed.

But, of course-

Steve didn’t even ask, just took the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth, taking a long fucking drag.

He rolled his shoulders, let his head fall back, blowing the smoke out towards the sky.

“Y’know, I fucking quit smoking because of her. Not like I did it a lot, but still .” Billy just stayed quiet. He really didn’t want to talk about Steve’s fucking girlfriend. “Because I actually cared .” Oh, now wait a minute.

“What happened?”

Steve shot him a dark look.

“You weren’t inside?”

Billy just gestured to the cigarette Steve was now sucking on once again. Billy kept his focus on Steve’s left earlobe. Didn’t care to get a semi just from looking at his lips.

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Does repeatedly being called bullshit and having her tell you she doesn’t love you count as a lovers’ quarrel?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Steve tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. Billy didn’t know what to say.

What he wanted to say was you ever sucked dick? And then maybe take Steve’s mind off of everything by fucking his face, but that felt a little forward, felt a little gay.

“ Fuck .”

Oh, shit.

Steve was fucking, Steve was gonna cry. Standing outside with Billy, barely lit by the light filtering through the small frosted bathroom window.

“ Next week .” Steve’s voice cracked. “We would’ve been together one year next week. And she was pretending .” Steve slumped back against the wall, his face buried in both his hands. “I, I changed everything for her. I stopped seeing my friends because she didn’t like them, I stopped smoking because she said it was gross, I changed who I am as a fucking person. And you know, granted, I am a better person. But I’m different, because of her, and she just, she threw all of it away.”

He sniffed loudly, his shoulders stuttering.

Billy felt like his guts were on fucking fire.

“Fuck her. Fuck her. You are a good guy. And if she’s too much of a bitch to see that, she doesn’t deserve you.” Steve didn’t acknowledge him for a while. Billy just let it be, lit another cigarette.

“I think I’m gonna go home. I wanna see my cat.” Steve sounded like a little kid. Like a heartbroken little kid.

“You good to drive?” And Steve finally pulled his head out of his hands.

His big eyes were shining, his cheeks wet, glistening in the low light.

“I don’t drink anymore. Because she said I’m an asshole when I’m drunk.”

Billy weighed his words carefully.

“I’ve got a bottle of tequila in my car if you wanna stick it to her.” Steve gave him a watery smile.

“You wanna follow me to my place?”

#clearly i'm very busy at work #yikes writes #egg the cat #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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archipelagolago · 4 years ago

Text

And your heart beats to the death of the sun, the roll of the waves (+ sunday by Joy Oladokun)

÷÷÷

Ah ah ah (Mmm, mmm)

Ah ah ah

Billy used to dream of dandelion rich fields and soft pink sunbeams. He doesn't anymore. But he would like to again. Sometimes, he dreams of an endless subway station. Empty and dark like 4AM. That's the closest he ever gets these days.

He is contemplating the overlap between railroad tracks and dandelions from his spot on the floor. In the doorway between kitchen and sitting room. Half of himself laying on each side. Split between an intersection. Split between who he is and who he is expected to be.

And Steve will be here soon. Which is good. But overwhelming. Because Billy doesn't feel ready to see anyone right now. But. Perseverance and all that shit. So.

Mama says I'm up to no good again

Couldn't make her proud though I did my best

I feel like I'm a mess

I feel like I'm stuck in the wrong skin

I feel like I'm sick

But I'm having trouble swallowing my medicine

Ah ah ah

His mother's necklace weighs heavy on his chest, pressed against his collarbone. Heavy. Weighted full of all the disappointment he knows she would feel if she could see him now. She said she loved him. But she left. She said she loved him. But she left him with Neil. She said, she loved him. But, she also said, 'falling in love with boys will send you straight down to the devil'.

And this morning. While on the phone with Steve to confirm their plans for today. He realized. He realized, he's in love with Steve. Which he already kinda knew. But fuck. Now he knows.

Can't keep denying acknowledgment of the feeling at any level. After, over the phone, he told Steve, about how, he's been waiting since age 12, for Max to own up to feeding his secret stash of chocolate bars to the opossums in the alley beside their California apartment. And Steve laughed so hard. So so hard and loud and breathless until he gave himself the hiccups.

And that's when Billy knew beyond any doubt. That he had fallen in love with a boy. With Steve Harrington.

He honestly doesn't care whether or not that will send him straight down to hell. But he can't stop picturing his mother's soft face, turned dark and stormy and disgusted. And there's nothing, now, that he can ever do to trick himself into believing she might come back. She'd never come back for him now.

Which shouldn't hurt as much as it does. Because he doesn't really want to see her anymore. After everything he's gone through after being left behind. But it does hurt. A shit ton. Because even after everything, he knows he'd still run straight into her arms if she ever came back to hold them out for him again.

Sunday, carry me, carry me down to the water

Wash me clean

I'm still struggling

Ah ah ah

Steve's knocking, now. After some obscure amount of time. And Billy has no idea how long he's been lying here. Doesn't even remember moving down to the floor.

He should stand up. Go let Steve in. But... Steve has a key. Billy gave it to him the same day the government paid for his move to a homey townhouse just on the edge of Hawkins.

So Steve can get in by himself if he really wants to. Which Billy hopes he won't. Knows he will. And. If he's being truly honest, he hopes he will, too.

Steve does.

Sunday, bury me under the weight of who you need me to be

Can't you see

I'm struggling

Ah ah ah

Billy keeps his eyes held shut as he hears Steve's key turn in the lock. But hums low in response to Steve's questioning call of, "Billy?".

So Steve finds him easy. Stands still against the wall of the living room. Looking down at Billy. But only for a few seconds before he says, "Hey," and, "Is it okay if I turn on the light?".

So Billy replies, "You can, but. I wish you wouldn't."

He doesn't have to open his eyes to know that Steve is nodding as he carefully steps over Billy and into the kitchen. As he gets down on the floor and lays perpendicular to Billy. As he scoots to the side and lifts Billy's head up a little until it's resting on his lap.

Steve plays with his hair. Runs his fingers through it and works it into braids that he unravels seconds after finishing.

Mmm, mmm

Ah ah ah

After several minutes, or maybe longer, Steve asks, "You still wanting to go down to the river today?".

I keep God locked in a picture frame

So I feel a little better 'bout my numbered days

Yeah I confess

He asks simple. Like yes or no. Like Billy should say yes if he wants to and no if he doesn't. Like he should want what he wants. And Billy does want to go. He does.

He says, "Yes."

The questions and the answers seem to sound the same

I'm just like the rest

Standing tall pretending not to be afraid

Ah ah ah

Billy sits in the passenger seat of Steve's Beemer. He'd kinda wanted to sit in the back. Lay across the second row seats. Would rather be horizontal right now. But, he also wanted to be close to Steve. To grip Steve's hand in his own, between their seats. So Billy is sitting in the passenger side.

From behind the wheel, Steve asks, "Why did you hang up? Right after we were laughing about Max and the opossums?"

And Billy frowns, because, he doesn't remember doing that. Drowns, because, he doesn't want Steve to be upset. And then he just, says it like it is, says, "Sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize."

So Steve says, "oh," and nods. The way he does when he's trying to think. Trying to think too hard.

Sunday carry me, carry me down to the water

Wash me clean

I'm still struggling

The river is loud. Roaring. It's July, so. It's warm, too.

Steve doesn't say anything when Billy strips down to his boxers and wades right in. Billy finds a solid rock in the middle of the current, and sits on top of it. The water reaches up to his elbows. And the current isn't strong enough to drag him away. It's nice.

Billy only has to wait a few dozen seconds before Steve is splashing in after him. Fully dressed. In beige chinos and a long sleeved polo. Black socks and leather boots.

And Billy knows Steve will complain about his wet clothes later. But he'll still do this same thing next week.

Sunday bury me under the weight of who you need me to be

Can't you see

I'm struggling

Ah ah ah

Billy thinks he might cry. Because he can't stop going back to how, his mom thought he was an ocean. But he's always been a river. Fresh and not salt. Mud and not sand. Alligators, not sharks.

And her favorite animal was a whale. Blue whale.

And there are no blue whales in rivers.

Sunday come around, lift me up again

Never too proud for a helping hand

I've been feeling down

Can you hear me now? (Ah ah ah)

But. Steve's favorites are crayfish and frogs. He loves plucking them out of the riverbed and bringing them over to show Billy.

Steve loves Billy because. Not despite. He loves him fully clothed in an Indiana river.

Sunday come around, lift me up again

I'm never too proud for a helping hand

I've been feeling down

Can you hear me now?

And while Billy's been contemplating, Steve's been wandering. And now he's drifting back, hands held closed over something living. And when he gets over to Billy, he smiles wide all the way up to his eyes. All the way to shining.

Says, "Found a little dude," and, "wanted you to see."

So Billy holds out his hand. And he's smiling too now. Shining alongside his favorite of river dwellers.

Sunday carry me, carry me down to the water

Wash me clean

I'm still struggling

Ah ah ah

It's a crayfish this time. Smooth and hard and pissy. It pinches the skin between Billy's thumb and pointer finger as Steve passes the little guy over. Though it doesn't really hurt.

But Steve still says, "Shit," and is fast on his way to saying sorry when Billy starts laughing.

He's laughing low and heavy and full. Because it doesn't hurt, but, if he doesn't laugh he'll probably cry. Because he's really happy. Really. And he'd been thinking this illicit happiness should feel wrong. That maybe he gets to be happy, but he doesn't get to feel warm about it. But it's not wrong. He was thinking all wrong. Because Steve and his crayfish feel like embers and soft candle light. Like crackling fall leaves and drunken beach-side bonfires.

Sunday bury me under the weight of who you need me to be

Can't you see

I'm struggling

Ah ah ah

And yes. Billy's mom would glare. But Stevie is smiling and back to shining and then laughing here with Billy. So it's not enough to spin the gold back into straw. It's not enough to dry out the flow of the river.

Aah, ah-ah-ah

Aah, ah-ah-ah (Ah ah ah)

Aah, ah-ah-ah

Aah, ah-ah-ah (Ah ah ah)

The crayfish had swum away sometime between the "shit" and the flooding of Billy's riverbank. And Steve has stepped closer. Billy wraps his arms around his love's waist. Pulls him further in. Steve reaches up, cradles Billy and his stubble in his palms. Leans forward until their foreheads are colliding. Softly.

But then he gasps. And whispers, "Wait. Billy, don't move."

Billy doesn't entirely listen, tilts his head down to follow Steve's gaze. And there it is. A spring peeper sitting in the curve of his right elbow.

The frog chirps a baritone melody. But it's a chorus frog. Can't reach a symphony without the rest of its choir.

Harmony. Billy gets it now. Why there need to be layers of sound.

So, "I hung up because, I've never been in love like this before."

Steve gives another one of his nods. Follows with a soft, "I know."

Billy can't help the harmonic smile or the single tear as, "Because, I do. I love you, Stevie."

And Steve keeps the crack in his voice with, "Well. I know I've said it before but, I love you too, Bills."

It makes sense now. It does. The months trapped in a parallel universe. The connection to a monster-forged body. The dying extension of self. The living reality. The asthma and the trauma and the phantom pain. And no. It doesn't make it worth it. But it helps it make sense.

Everything makes so much damn sense when Steve guides Billy's head to the curve of his neck and hums softy in tune with the lone spring peeper. Harmony.

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growup-thatbeautiful · 3 years ago

Text

drive is out now!! It’s a Post Season Harringrove Hurt/Comfort and I’m pretty proud of it. Read it on ao3 here or below the cut. Likes and comments are very very much appreciated :))

Billy doesn’t drive after starcourt. Something about being behind the wheel makes him sick with memories that he can’t understand. They’re abstract and totally unreliable.

But it’s kind of always been like that for him. He's used to having gaps in his memories, except most of the time it’s because of trauma. Or that’s what Joyce tells him and the rest of them whenever they have nightmares about things they don’t remember happening.

He's been living with the Byers and El. He tries to be useful around the house, doing whatever he can because he really doesn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s hard, though. It seems like everything he does, he does wrong. He never had to learn how to fold sheets or clean dishes. Not only was neil hargrove terribly homophobic, but also misogynistic, which is a word joyce taught him because she teaches all her kids that stuff. And he’s one of her kids now. So, yeah. Neil never had Billy do the chores because “he’s not a true man, but he sure as shit isn’t a woman.”

It's alarming how quickly this odd family replaces his old one. Neil seems miles away. Neil doesn’t try to look for Billy, and that’s fine as far as Billy's concerned. He's got scars to cover up the ones Neil made. no need to dwell on that when he has so much other trauma to process., right? Kind of.

He does check up on max. Asks her if neils pulling any of the shit he used to get from his dad. double checks for bruises hidden under makeup or long sleeves, and never finds any. Good.

Joyce is good. great, even. She doesn’t blame him when he breaks a dish because he heard a noise. She listens when he says he needs some alone time, and she knows when he’s just saying that. She gives good hugs and has no problem giving him Jonathan's old room to stay in while he’s off at college. leaving Hawkins behind him, calling every night anxiously awaiting the return of It. Nothing happens, and eventually they relax. Or they try to. That part of billy’s been broken for a long time, though.

So Joyce starts fading into memories of his mom, and he tries not to blame her.

Again. He's never had a great memory anyway. He does remember his mom telling him that boys don’t marry other boys when he was five and told her he wanted to marry his best friend. Then she told him never to tell his dad. It's strange, because he can’t remember her saying that she loved him, even though he’s sure she did. Did she? Huh.

At least the painful memories he gets to keep. Neil beating’s. Beating up on Harrington that night he didn’t know what was going on. The car crash before his mind was taken from him. Max’s terrible scream of “Billy” mixed in with the ear-ringing pain. Waking up in a hospital with starburst scars across his body. Skin that isn’t his. They remind him not to get to comfortable, remind him that the kindness he’s being shown isn’t well earned.

Because Billy knows he wasn’t worth those hospital bills and sleepless nights. All he’s done to the people here is hurt and scar and he’s seen them with the deepest kind of fear in their eyes. Fear because of him.

Everytime he goes down a path like this, he tries to stay clear of everyone. Because. They all tried to hide how much hurt he’s caused. They don’t blame him like they should.

He didn’t know any of them well before. But he knows El didn’t always carry around that police badge or look up at every siren, praying for a familiar face only to be disappointed and try not to show it. Because if Billy survived, couldn’t the more-deserving Hopper? Apparently not.

He knows Joyce didn’t always search for Will in every setting and have those folded up pictures of the two men that died because of all the shitty things that happened. Because she can’t stand to forget their faces or not carry that burden for just a second.

Will didn’t always get quiet every time a draft went through the room or refuse to go out that front door first. Because so many things have been ruined for him.

The rest of the kids didn’t always jump at every noise or bunch together for every corner, carrying lucky momentous and items. Because God forbid they have a break.

He doesn’t see them a lot, but Nancy and Jonathan definitely didn’t carry around an emergency kit everywhere they went, packed with medical supplies and Nancy’s choice gun. Because they’re going to be there to help if anything tries to take another person they loves away.

Some part of Billy reasons that it’s not all his fault. He wasn’t one of those scientists or government agents that started the whole thing.

But he did enough. Enough to warrant all the shit that he’s going through. It’s not the healthiest way of thinking, he’s aware of that, but it helps him get by.

No matter how hard he tries, though, there’s always someone at the house that finds him. Curled up into a ball, dry hitching sobs and no tears because “Hargrove men don’t cry.” Billy gets damn close sometimes, but the fear that Neil’s going to come out from the cracks in the wall and kick him where he lays is too real.

There are usually soft words.

“We don’t blame your here, honey. That wasn’t you, that did all that stuff. And I’m not going to let anything else bad happen to the people under this roof.” Joyce’s strong and sure voice, only breaking at the edges.

“I know what it’s like to have him control you like that. I know better than anyone else, and I know how scary it is. Mom says it’s over now, though, and I can’t feel It anymore. I would tell you first if It came back.” Will never says anything more than that, which is comforting in itself. It’s nice to have someone else.

“They lost. You’re here. I’m here. Will’s here. It is safe.” El’s statement is simple, but she makes it easy to believe.

He believes them until he gets another new memory of what he did. The Mayors blood on the floor. Heather’s petrified screams. Standing before that thing and feeling nothing but a perverse sense of but awe and, buried beneath that, a screaming sense of horror and the constant feeling of slipping in the sand.

There are times, like right now, when he doesn’t want someone to make him feel better. He wants someone who can drive him away from here and sit in an empty parking lot and smoke away the thoughts. Someone like Steve.

He would do it himself. He would. But he can’t. Can’t get over that fucking gas pedal. So he calls Steve.

They’ve done this enough times for it to make sense for Billy to have Steve’s number memorized. And his work schedule. And to know when he with Dustin or Robin or any of the others on one of those group outings Billy can’t bring himself to go to. There are too many sad faces, too many broken homes.

It doesn’t matter what he wears. It’s just Steve, and they’ve gotten past the point of caring about things like that.

Which. Is obvious to anyone who looks at Billy, not that he sees anyone. He’s lost a lot of weight. Muscles that used to be defined are gone, replaced by scars. He can’t get them back yet, because he’s not strong enough to lift any of them. And because muscles like that can hurt and hit. His eyes are surrounded by heavy bags, bloodshot and tired. The new callouses on his hands are mostly scars from anxiety ridden breakages, and the pained nails are because El wanted to try the new dark blue out. His hair is greasy and flat, nowhere near what it used to be. It hangs around his shoulders in curled waves, so far from where he used to be.

He doesn’t even try to smile to the sad reflection in the mirror.

Steve doesn’t honk when he arrives. The first time he did that and the noise sent Billy spiraling, and Steve had felt terrible, cussing up a storm that actually helped Billy out of it. Luckily, it was just Billy home and no one else was there to witness they’re collective train wreck.

Before he leaves, Billy grabs something from the bathroom and stuffs it in with the rest of the random shit he brings.

Billy slides into the passenger seat, leans his head back against the headrest, and says, “So, Harrington, how you been?”

Steve, mercifully, looks the same as always. He looks good, the asshole. It’s a relief that he’s still able to feel that fire Steve lights up. Different than all the other King’s from California. A few more scars, but they all have that. His shades are pushed through his hair, brown strands flopping over lazily.

“Same as usual, so fairly shitty and on the brink of breakdown. You?” It would be a normal conversation if Steve wasn’t completely serious, corners of his mouth only ticking up when Billy reaches over and bats at the band-aid charm hanging from the mirror. A joke from Billy to say sorry for, you know, almost beating him to death for no real reason.

“Oh, you know.” He doesn’t need to say more for Steve to get the idea. It’s the same way they’ve been feeling for months now.

“Yeah.” The car ride over isn’t far from the Byers’ house, and they spend it in almost silence. Some pop station is playing low on the radio.

“This the shit you listen to, pretty boy? I expected more than this.” It’s an attempt at normalcy, something that they’ve slowly been working up to.

“At least I don’t blast out my eardrums every time I want to listen to music,” replies Steve quickly, smile evident in his tone.

And it’s normal. It’s them. The way they were before it all got so messy. For that brief moment, there’s no winter night or july 4th. For a brief moment Billy can entertain a reality where he went to the find Steve instead of a fight. A world where Steve, with those pretty eyes and snap remarks, could hold his hand and stop him from doing all the bad things in the future.

But the moment passes. Steve clears his throat and looks forward at the road.

They arrive to the quarry, water at the bottom glinting, tossing, teasing. The car doors slam shut, and they slide up on to the front of the car. Billy pulls his last minute grab out of the bag and hands it to Steve.

“I want you to cut my hair.” Steve takes the scissors and towel in his hand, looking at Billy.

He doesn’t ask if Billy’s sure. Billy figures that Steve knows at this point he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t real. If Billy wasn’t sure. Steve cards a hand through Billy’s hair. It feels. Good. Real good.

Steve starts cutting, and Billy winces at the sound of the scissors closing around his hair. His past.

“I like to think it isn’t just part of me.” The comment comes out of nowhere, surprising Billy more than it surprises Steve.

“What?” Steve’s voice is calm, the sniping of the scissors is methodical.

“The anger. The aggression. The tendency to hurt. I like to think it’s not in my nature, but my nurture.”

“I don’t think you’re violent.” It’s a laughable statement.

“You’re joking. Did you forget most of last year? I’m the one with the bad memory here, Harrington.” Billy can practically hear Steve’s disapproving mother’s frown behind him.

“That wasn’t you.”

“Right, sure, whatever, bullshit. But what about…you know. Last winter.”

“What happened before that?” asks Steve patiently.

“Jesus, you’re worse than Joyce. My dad sent me after Max. Found her at Byers’ place with you. Hurt you a whole fucking lot.”

“Is that all he did? He just told you to go after her?” Billy ignores the way his stomach does flips when Steve runs a hand through Billy’s hair, straightening it out.

“So you’re my fuckin’ therapist now? What do you want me to say? He kissed my head and sent my on my merry way? That’s now how he works. I’ll admit, I was saved by his new wifey. He can’t use me as a punching bag when she’s standing right there, not like he did with mom. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Nothing worse than what you’ve done to me. And the insults weren’t too bad either. He forgot to call me a fag.”

“Oh. Shit, Billy, I-“

“It’s fine,” cuts in Billy, hating the pity in Steve’s voice. He’s not the one who should have it.

“You didn’t deserve that.” This time it does make Billy laugh. It’s a hollow and haunting sound, an echo of his charming boyish laugh.

“Sure I did, dipshit. You’re probably one of the people who knows best why I did, in fact, deserve it.”

“So then I’m the best person. to tell you that you aren’t that person. You haven’t been that person since you left him and all of that shit. Let me ask you something. Do you want to hurt people now?”

“No!” Billy startles himself with his sudden enthusiasm, and Steve jumps a little behind him. Steve is quicker to recover, though, and he runs a hand through the hair he hasn’t cut yet. It’s soothing. Billy barely resists the urge to lean into it. Ask for more.

“Did you ever want to hurt people? Like really, truly want to see them hurt?” Billy has to think about the question. Steve deserves an real answer.

Flashes fly through his mind, bringing on too familiar emotions. Anger, a need to make someone, anyone, feel the way that he’s feeling. Fear that not having this power over people would make him weak. Horror at what he’s about to do. Detachment, painful as he grinned and laughed.

“I just wanted to have control. Take some of the hurt I was feeling and give it to other people. It was a rush that I was addicted to. The thrill of the fight, the feel of flesh against my fist, the look of blood on my knuckles. I liked fighting, still do. I didn’t like hurting people.” Steve puts the scissors down on the car hood, fluffing Billy’s hair and sliding down next to him.

“I’ve been on the wrong side of the fists of two people I’m now okay with,” admits Steve. “Believe me, I know now to take a beating. I’ve been heartbroken by two other people I’m close friends with. I forgive too easily.”

“So you’re a compulsive truster and I’m a compulsive fighter. What a pair we make, huh Harrington?”

“Yeah.” agrees Steve, bumping his shoulder against Billy. “What a pair.”

Maybe it’s the haircut. Maybe it’s the sunlight confessions. Maybe it’s how carefree and happy Steve looks. But Billy feels lighter. Like there was this unspoken weight he had been carrying around that no one knew about. Or everyone knew about, but couldn’t help.

The thing is, Steve didn’t even say anything. He didn’t promise a better future, he didn’t say that he was safe. He shared some of the personal pain they all carry around.

“I don’t think I ever said sorry. I am sorry, you know. I. I didn’t-“

“I know. I’m sorry too. Someone should’ve known. About you.” Steve leans closer, and Billy chalks it up to the night chill as the sun settles below the glistening rocks.

“I was good at hiding things I didn’t want people to see.”

“Yeah, well you’re not alone there either.”

“You good at hiding, pretty boy?” Billy’s eyes flick down to Steve’s lips, and, is Billy imagining it or is Steve looking at him the same way?

“Apparently not good enough,” jokes Steve. His smile falls off of his lips, and he leans minutely closer. If Billy wasn’t paying attention to all of Steve…

The way his hair glows white and gold in the sunset. That wrinkle between his brows. The way one of his eyes is a little darker than the other. How he smells like cigarette smoke and that fancy hairspray, even when his hair is blown from the wind.

The way he looked that night. Cool and collected, then terrified and fighting for his life. So beautiful in the harsh starlight and then so abstract in the broken kitchen light.

Before he knows what’s happening, Steve is filling that gap. Kissing Billy like he’s trying to sooth the pain from their past. Maybe he is. Billy wouldn’t put it past him.

His hand finds a way to Steve’s hair, the same way Steve’s been running his through Billy’s now shorter hair. He curls it into the strands, holding on tightly. Soft.

The way Steve sighs his name takes Billy away from it all. The pain. The memories. The lack of memories.

They lay out under the stars for a few minutes, but Billy knows Joyce will freak out if she can’t find him. Not because she doesn’t trust him, he has to remind himself, but because she doesn’t trust others.

On the drive home Steve plays that pop stuff again, and Billy gives him the appropriate shit for it, a smile on his face the whole time. His fingers laced through Steve’s.

They arrive at the house, and Steve declines to come in. Gives the excuse that his parents will be waiting up when they both know it’s not true. Billy can’t blame him. Billy understands needing to be alone, needing to get away.

Billy leans through Steve’s window and wished that he could kiss him goodbye. Well. The teasing will have to do.

“Night, King Steve.”

“Goodnight, Asshole.”

If Joyce gives him a knowing smile at the door, Billy doesn’t smile back. Probably.

He definitely does. Maybe he deserves the smile. If Steve thinks he does.

#steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove fan fiction #harringrove #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #harringrove fandom #harringrove stuff #harringrove au #stranger things #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things post season 3

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grey-sides · 3 years ago

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I am back with the second day of chrisbitchtree's prompt list: Rainstorm. I guess it's kinda set in the same universe as yesterday's drabble? Anyway, more fluff and Billy introspection because it literally never stops.

It doesn’t rain in the Upside Down, even if the air is heavy with moisture. And even if it did, Billy is pretty sure the water would flow upwards from the ground or something. It also doesn’t rain much in California and Billy remembers learning about the states in elementary school and thinking that California should be called The Sunshine State instead of Florida. But it does rain in Indiana.

When they arrived a year ago, the rain didn’t mean much to Billy. It meant having to be extra careful to roll up his windows when he parked. It meant paying attention to the weather so he doesn’t end up in soaked denim. It meant frizz and extra curls and dark, quiet mornings. But it wasn’t significant.

Except now, Billy is a little more in awe of the world around him. Even if he still kind of hates Hawkins, even if he doesn’t always recognize himself in the mirror and he’s forever changed. He finds the Earth itself kind of miraculous. He knows it doesn’t rain in the Upside Down because he spent a month there, learning to hide instead of fight. Learning to freeze and wishing for warmth. And eventually stumbling through a truly disgusting hole in the wall, landing on his back in the middle school. Damp, covered in goo, too thin, but somehow, miraculously alive.

It’s been a month since then and the weather in Hawkins is getting colder. Not that Billy much notices because he spends a lot of time inside the Harringtons’ big, quiet house. With Mr. Harrington going on endless business trips and Mrs. Harrington follows him all over because she doesn’t trust him but she’s too scared to let him go. And Billy learns to slow down in the house. While Steve works at the video store and lets the kids come over to use his big dining room table for their games of Dungeons and Dragons, Billy sits and listens. He listens to the insects at night and the wind whistling through windows that Steve never closes all the way. Sometimes he plugs his ears and listens to his pulse, steady and familiar. And today, he listens for the thunder.

It’s October and most days are cold, they start out cold and they only warm up enough to justify a jacket instead of a coat. But today is heavy. The air is humid, muggy, with a slight chill and Billy knows it’s going to storm. His hands ache with the change in pressure, and he has to leave the kitchen light on even though he’s sitting by the windows that look out into the backyard. Steve should be home soon, he’s probably on his way with his dumb vest still on because he thinks it’s kind of cool. Billy’s supposed to be doing some calculus work, so he can turn it in on Monday, during his only full day of school. But he can’t focus because his ears are straining for the first clap of thunder.

When it comes, he jumps and flexes his fingers, tugging the long sleeves of his sweater down over his hands. He watches as the first drops of rain hit the concrete by the pool, smacking into the ground and soaking it thoroughly. Billy drops his pencil and stands up, his chair scraping across the floor when he does. He looks down at his sweater which actually belongs to Steve and considers taking it off. But it doesn’t matter, he has twenty just like it in his closet and his mom will probably take him shopping when they come home again in a week. No one asks Steve about Billy, probably because that would mean confronting how little they know their son. So he’s just there, an extension of Steve and Billy finds he doesn’t mind.

So he leaves the sweater on but does decide to slip into some sneakers. The rain is really coming down now, lightning cracking across the sky and thunder booming. Billy waits a moment before he slides the back door open and steps out. He’s almost immediately soaked, but he doesn’t care because this is cleansing rain. The mulch in the flower beds is going to run into the yard and the end of the driveway is going to flood. And Billy is going to stand out here, getting water in his eyes until he feels cleansed too.

It’s how Steve finds him, ten minutes later. His hair is a mess, probably from the rain and the bottoms of his jeans are soaked when he stands in the doorway and shouts at Billy.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia!” he cries, yelling to be heard over the torrential downpour.

“I’ll take a shower to warm up after!” Billy calls, spitting water onto the ground. He turns his face up to the heavens, arms outstretched and he thinks he might be crying but he can’t really tell.

He knows Steve must hesitate and consider grabbing an umbrella before he joins him. Steve lets out a laugh at the rain when he does, shoulders hunching up around his ears. He did take off the vest, probably because he doesn’t want to wash it before his shift tomorrow. But he joins Billy out in the rain. His hair slicks to his cheeks and he laughs again, shivering as the temperature rapidly drops. They kiss, in the pouring rain and it’s stupidly romantic.

“Come on, you’re crazy,” Steve says when they break apart, pulling at Billy’s hands.

Billy lets him, follows him inside, and kicks his wet shoes off at the door. They strip as they go, leaving wet puddles of clothing on the floor up to Steve’s bathroom. The shower is warm and exactly what they need after the downpour even if Steve is still nervous about getting electrocuted in the spray of water.

When they finally manage to drag themselves out and down the stairs to the kitchen, Steve makes fettuccine alfredo and they eat it on the couch in the living room with the TV on. It’s turned down low so Billy can still listen to the rain. And even though they’ll have to clean sticks out of the yard tomorrow morning and they might have to sweep water out of the garage, Billy doesn’t care. Couldn’t. Because this rainstorm, the first big one since he came back, is cleansing. Cleansing like the ocean, like the first shower after he got back, like Steve’s hands on his face, clammy and nervous the first time they kissed.

#harringrove #chrisbitchtree #greye writes #drabble #stranger things #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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dreamties · 4 years ago

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Slashers x S/O in a LDR

A/n- Oh, anon! Same hat! Same hat! I’ve considered making something like this a few times, I was so happy to finally make them!! :D

I’m currently working on stuff for Randy Meeks, Kurt Kunkle, and Lester Sinclair- but if there’s still a character you wanted but don’t see here? Feel free to let me know, and I’d be glad to whip something up for them, as well!

Characters: Billy/Stu and Norman Bates

T/W: mostly fluff with a side of abandonment and mommy issues. and some swearing? (is damn a swear word? I used it a lot)

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Word Count: 992

Y’all met in high school- the three of you practically inseparable. But then college happens- and you would’ve loved to stay with Billy and Stu, but the sort of situation arises where you can’t possibly turn away the opportunity. It would be such a mistake, especially for the line of work you’d like to be in.

And now you may be thinking, Stu’s family is rich rich, right? Couldn’t they just,, buy they’re way in, so you didn’t have to part? Well...I guess they could? These boys aren’t afraid to take what they want, no matter what that entails- but I feel like there might be a lost sense of pride buying their way in.

...plus...they may or may have not tried...and the school definitely did not accept that shit.

So with that, the three of you end up at different colleges- well, Billy and Stu are at the same place but...you’re so far away 🥺🥺

You’re still in California- but you’re far enough away that they can’t do one to two day trips to see you. It still hurts so much to be apart from them though- especially since both of these boys are so, hmm how to put it...they’re very affectionate and needy (while that last bit may be more so Stu, Billy still fits the Bill on that one).

You only visit each other on holidays and during the summer- and you always stay much longer for the summer.

When Stu sees you again, the first thing he does is wrap you in the biggest, almost suffocating hug- Billy trailing close behind him, laughing at his antics. He basically holds on to you for the entire ride from the airport back to the house (depending on who’s visiting who- but you’ll often come back to Woodsboro, and stay with Stu).

They think about you all the time when you’re gone. It’s kind of nuts. They’ve got so many other things going on in their lives- they’re still participating in Ghostface murders, they’ve got college and Real jobs ((Stu doesn’t even need a job, but he likes staying close with Billy and having something to do !! He doesn’t like staying by himself too much :( )) and even with all that? You still end up worming your way into their brains. Collective brainrot over you lmao /j

You call each other everyday- or every other day if schedules are tight. The good thing is...is y’all are both in Cali !! There are no stupid time zones, y’all don’t gotta worry about that >:(

They want to make sure they know everything that’s been going on with you- even if it’s some boring class, it’s totally worth it just to hear you talk.

There’s lot of them telling you all the things they want to do to/with you when they finally see you. It’s all about the heavy yearning folks. The ache that you feel when you realize you can’t do that right now. And not for a long time.

You just want to stay with your boys, cuddled on the couch, watching B-rated slasher films. You want to look them in their pretty, perfect eyes, and let your fears and worries melt away, while you tell them how much you love and missed them. And to finally feel your boys’ hairs through your fingers again.

And the crashing, sudden realization, after they drop you off at the airport- and you have your drawn out, tearful goodbyes...the kind you see in movies- that you won’t see them again. Not like that, at least. And not for months. It was back to counting down the days again. Being thankful for every little moment you had with them- and every call, and every weird text message they sent. Allowing every soft, intimate moment away from each other to guide you back home.

Billy’s not great at dealing with his emotions...especially in positive ways. The relationship can definitely be super hard on him, even if he doesn’t really show it. It brings up a lot of his abandonment issues with his mom :( Having you go off to college is losing part of his support system, and it physically pains him to not see you in Woodsboro. You’re part of his little found family with him and Stu. And when you’re not there? Sometimes it feels like he’s lost you. that you’re not coming back from school, and you’re going to have left for good. Which is not true at all, and he knows that...but god damn is it hard to not listen to that dark, nagging voice sometimes.

And for Stu? He doesn’t mind as much. He doesn’t share this same trauma involved with it that Billy seems to have. But it still hits him in all the wrong places. He’s more likely to show his true emotions than Billy. And that’s actually really good !! He’s able to properly communicate with you whats going, where he’s at with things.

It can be kind of exhausting trying to translate Billy’s feelings to you- for all parties involved. Or Billy, who’s learned a certain way to communicate that works, and then having to find a new way that makes sense over text and phone calls. Since you can’t see all his body language, and the way he tenses up when he’s filled with Big Emotions.

TLDR; dealing w/ emotions is tough, doing it via limited technology is harder :(

and y’all know it’s tough on each other- but like hell you’re not gonna make it work with each other. Y’all are meant to be, even if the relationship is in a bit of an odd spot right now.

You always have to remind the boys that this is only temporary. just until your 4+ years of schooling is over, and then you can move back to Woodsboro. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to plan your lives together.

Norman Bates

Word Count: 784

You meet Norman at his motel. You’re just passing through, on your way to a gathering with some of your family. He’s a little odd, but such a gentleman, that you make a note to stay at his motel on the way back home, as well.

Norman’s completely enamored by you, and you say “I’ll see you soon” that first time, he can nearly feel his heart skip a beat. He’s a smiling, happy little mess about it. You wanted to come back here, for him? He can’t wait for it.

Part of him was worried you wouldn’t come back, and that part of him was very scared- but you were so genuine, he could tell you’d be back. For real.

He still finds himself surprised, when a few days later you’re back there. When you leave, you give him your home phone number and address. Letting him know if he was ever going through your town, and he needed a place to stay that...well...he was always welcome at yours.

Y’all aren’t even dating at this point, but you definitely felt this spark- this connection- when you met. It was unlike anything the two of you had ever felt before. So...your relationship starts off slow. It builds overtime.

It had been a few weeks since you met- with Norman’s work at the motel and whatever work you do, it was hard to find time between it all- but you’re finally able to start weekly phone calls with each other. Catching up with each other, asking him about the motel, and his hobbies...he’s so thrilled when you talk to him about the taxidermy! Not many folks are very er...into it. So it’s a nice surprise for him that the person he likes...cares about what he likes.

Further into y’all’s relationship, the weekly calls will turn into twice a week and sometimes and slowly, slowly melt into sending letters with each other as much as you can. Every few weeks or so, you’d get the sweet pleasure of seeing Norman’s simple letter in your mailbox. Smiling as you spot your name in his nice, neat handwriting.

Often you’ll include clippings from articles or magazines that reminded you of him, and little photos of yourself, your family (and pets if you have any) and critters, and bugs and shots of nature. He loves the ones you send of birds and trees the most- but he keeps every single one you send him. He has a whole drawer full of your letters.

A while into exchanging letters, the two of you begin signing off every one with an “I love you”. It’s not until you see each other in person again that you fully realize your feelings. I mean, they were always there- but it took the pair of you an impossibly long to speak it out loud- to make it official.

It had been just under a year since you met- and you’re finally back at the Bates motel. There’s no special reason, you’re not seeing family, per se. But you’re starting something you should have started ages ago. Every part of your being is teeming with nervous excitement- what if you had read the letters all wrong? Every I love you, meant as friends?

You're quick to let him know of your arrival- he’s surprised, he didn’t expect you and you wrap each other in a large hug. You don’t let go for sometime, and when you finally do, you still clutch on to his smooth, slender hands. You lean into him, “I’ve missed you.” He looks at you with soft, shiny eyes, lost in your own. You press a subtle kiss to his lips, and pull away soon after. You feel your face get hot, and you can only imagine that Norman’s face would be bright pink.

He doesn’t say anything at first, simply squeezing your hands. “I did, too,” he smiles. It’s so delicate, and you can’t help but hold his face in your hands- studying every little detail. Of course, he sent you photos of himself from time to time- but it wasn’t the same.

The week that you spend with him is magical. When you leave you already find yourself missing the time you had with him- but you suppose that feeling and the wait to see Norman- was worth it. Plus, you still had the phone calls and all the letters with I Love You in them. Besides, with time, you’d be back at his motel- or he’d finally take you up on your offer, and you could finally spend a sunny morning, lazing around cuddled with each other in your bed, in your town.

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bentnotbroken1fanfiction · 3 years ago

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Sins of the Father (dark fic) TRIGGER WARNING (descriptions of non consensual sex acts, heavy angst)

Part I

Normally Billy doesn't concern himself with Max and what she's doing. He doesn't really notice if she's happy or sad once they're home, doesn’t particularly care. The minute they enter the house it's like they live on separate planes of existence. They stay out of each other's way. They have nothing in common.

Or that's what he used to think.

It's a Thursday night and Susan left three hours ago for work. His jaw aches and is probably on its way to bruising, and all he wants to do is sleep. But he can't. Because on his way back from the bathroom he heard Max crying, and now that he's noticed it, he can't tune it out.

He decides to wait ten minutes. Surely she'll stop soon? What the fuck does she have to be crying about? Probably her dumb boyfriend.

She doesn't stop.

So he gets out of bed, annoyed and sore, and slips back out into the hall. He doesn't knock, doesn't want to be loud enough to wake his dad up because he'd rather not take another hit thank you very much, he just quietly opens the door and sneaks inside.

It's as dark in here as it is in his room, but his eyes are adjusted enough to the darkness that he can see a lump in the bed.

The crying immediately chokes off when the door clicks closed, and the tension in the air suddenly spikes up, almost suffocating him as he inches closer to her bed.

What the hell?

"Max?" He whispers, and he doesn't know what else to say because he's getting a really weird vibe as the sniffles resume. "Hey-"

"Not you too." She groans miserably, and Billy is really fucking confused.

"What-"

"Please don't." It sounds like she's on the verge of crying again.

"Don't what?" Was she always this cryptic?

He watches as she sits up and the blankets fall off of her. She looks as miserable as she sounds. "I don't want to be touched right now." She says.

Ok? That's a weird ass fucking thing to say?

When he kind of just stares at her dumbly, because he's never felt more clueless in his life, she scoots closer to the edge of the bed and continues. "Look, I'll still suck your dick, ok? I just don't want to be touched."

His brain short circuits.

"Excuse me?" His voice practically squeaks and he takes a couple steps back, because that is not something he'd ever expected to hear her say. Like ever.

Now she sounds confused. "That's why you came in here, right? So I would blow you?"

He blinks a few times before he can properly process what she just said. "What the fuck? No! I heard you crying. Why the hell- You're my sister and like twelve years old." She's actually almost fourteen and he's more than a little gay so it would do absolutely nothing for him, but that's beside the point. "Why on earth would you think I would want you to fuckin-" He abruptly cuts himself off.

Not you too?

"Oh shit." He whispers. "My dad." He's suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. "Max, is my dad coming in here and making you do that?"

She doesn't say anything, just grabs the blanket and pulls it back over her as she lays down. "Go away, Billy."

"No. I'm not just going to go away." He replies and steps toward the bed again, because he might not like Max, and he thinks she's an annoying little shit and a total bitch sometimes, but if his dad is...she doesn't deserve that. "I need to know-"

"Why? It's not like it would matter. You're scared of him too."

His head swims. That's… "Yeah, fine. Maybe that's true, but...I still want some confirmation." He just needs to know what he's dealing with here. "Has he been touching you?"

She flips the blanket back again but doesn't sit up this time. Just stares at the ceiling. "Yes, Billy. He's been touching me." She spits out, angry and hurt. "And he puts his mouth on me, and bites me and makes me touch him and suck him off. That good enough confirmation for you?"

His hands are balled into fists, and he thinks he might be shaking. He hasn't wanted to hit his dad this bad in a long fucking time. And he's always known that Neil is a horrible person, but he never would have thought...what the fuck? and he'd accused fucking Harrington of having ill intentions towards her, when it was his own father who had been the one with them?

He feels like throwing up. This is...this is so much worse than him hitting Billy. "Has he…is he making you have sex with him?"

"No. At least, not yet."

Fuck. Ok. That's good. He doesn't have to worry about dragging her to Indianapolis to find a fucking clinic.

"Was he doing this back in California?" He asks, because if he was and Billy had no fucking idea, he's going to kick himself in the ass.

"No. It didn't start until November. When mom got that job."

"It's February."

"And? "

"Jesus Christ. Why didn't you say something?"

"Really? You're not exactly my biggest fan, Billy. And not really the kind of person I thought would listen."

Well, that's fair. He's an asshole. And apparently a big enough one that she thought he'd make her- "Ok, I'm a dick, but what about your mom?"

She sighs sadly. "I.. I tried to tell her once, but she wouldn't…she kept cutting me off. Repeated over and over how we are finally financially stable and how much he does for us and I just…I gave up."

What the? Fuck you, Susan.

He sits down on her bed and puts his head in his hands. "Fuck." He needs to figure out what to do about this. He can't just let Neil do this shit to her but he's kind of powerless. And he's a fucking idiot for not realizing…if he hadn't been annoyed with her crying then he would still be oblivious. He sucks. He sucks so much.

He hears her sit up. "Billy?"

"I'm sorry, Max." He says, "I'm sorry he's been hurting you, and I'm sorry I was too busy feeling sorry for myself that I didn't notice it happening."

There's a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. Ok? You didn't do anything and you should be worrying about yourself. He doesn't hit me. Or knock me unconscious. He leaves bruises and blood all over you. There's never a scratch on me."

"That doesn't fucking matter. What he's doing to you is worse. It's...horrible and wrong. Maybe he doesn't beat you, but that shit? It'll still fuck you up."

"Well, I guess we'll just be fucked up together."

"I'll find a way to get him to leave you alone. I promise."

She sighs sadly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

And he knows she has no reason to believe that he can follow through, but this time, this time he has to, because it’s not just him he needs to worry about anymore.

Part III

#dark fic #tw: abuse #max mayfield #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #angst #determined billy #confused billy #billy finds out what his dad has been up to

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neonponders · 4 years ago

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Hawkins Wolves

I have this gif/post saved and here we go:

Fraternity Twin Harringtons

(cue Billy sweating in the background)

Bryan and Steve Harrington.

Bryan is older, has the grades (A and B averages, still great), and the name from their dad’s Scottish heritage side.

Steve is the younger twin, more athletically endeavored, and named from god only knows. He used to lie and say it was from their mom’s Greek side, just so people would stop talking about his nose. Bryan loves it and totally went with it, because hello? They have the same nose. And the same eyes and brow bones. Bryan has the narrower, V-shaped jawline while Steve’s is more square. The same hair, even if Bryan keeps his nape short and Steve’s not afraid of a mullet.

Frankly, they’re damn near identical when standing next to each other. They’re not joined at the hip, though, and are very much known as brothers instead of twins.

So Billy meets Bryan first.

Bryan is kind of an anomaly. He’s popular, and for good reasons (smart, and jaw-dropping attractive), but he tags around with Jonathan Byers. During a smoke break, Billy follows them down to a creek bed running around the school. He finds them on some boulders: Bryan is modeling up high, and Jonathan is squinting through his camera talking about lighting and, “There’s a spider web there. Watch your foot.”

Long story short: Billy likes Bryan. He doesn’t act on it, per say, but he does become a part of this portfolio pair - Jonathan practicing shutter speeds, etc., and Bryan building up a modeling portfolio.

It’s fun. It’s something to do. Billy particularly enjoys the action shots they get around the fields of Hawkins. Who knew modeling actually took work?

Then a dark red BMW parks on the side of the road behind Billy and Jonathan’s cars. The latter turns around, concerned by the sound, but Bryan reassures, “It’s my brother.”

Billy’s first thought is: Thighs.

His second is: Shoulders.

He can see immediately that the two are related but the brother is more filled out, athletically, and - “How old is he?” Billy can’t help but ask.

“About three minutes younger than me,” Bryan smiled.

The guy trots down the slope into the field to speak for himself. “Bry, if you skip breakfast again, you’re gonna be modeling for a Halloween store.”

“Not all of us have two-a-days, Vivi. I don’t need a truckload of calories.”

Vivi?

He waves a tin foil parcel in the air. Billy wondered if it’d be worth commenting on it being almost 5pm (”Golden hour!” Jonathan called it.), but he stayed quiet. “Do you know how hard it is to keep hash browns crispy? Eat your friggin’ burrito.”

“Yeah. Like you didn’t make that fresh because you ate mine during English.”

He catches the breakfast burrito when it’s thrown at him, though, and Billy is left with him while Jonathan switches cameras and film. He held his hand out and introduced himself, “Steve.”

“Ah,” Billy exhaled understanding and shook. “Billy. I’ve heard your name around.”

“My brother’s obsessed with me. It’s a twin thing.”

Said twin flipped him off in between massive bites to his burrito.

Billy corrected, “No, something about a keg record. That I beat last weekend.”

Steve took that with grace as he nodded. “Did you puke?”

Billy frowned. “No. It wouldn’t be a beaten record, then. Come to think of it, why didn’t I see you at the party?”

Bryan intercepted, “Too busy moping. He’s fresh off a break up.”

Jonathan coughed and looked like he was trying to climb into his camera bag. Billy peered between the three of them, unable to read exactly what was happening.

Steve flicked the end of his nose and leaned into a walk. Billy took that to mean he wanted a conversation alone. He didn’t expect the topic.

As they strolled by an acre of unclipped wheat, Steve hovered his hand over the fronds and said, “I’ll only say this once because I’m not his mother, but I did lose the race out of the womb. If you take advantage of my brother, I’ll put your dick in the trophy case at school next to my State trophy.”

Billy couldn’t decide which to address first: how this small-town, high school priss figured Billy out, or that he actually thought himself capable of intimidating him. Steve wore a goddamn polo underneath a sweater, for Christ sake.

Billy went with, “That’s going to make it easy for investigators to connect some dots.”

“You get my point - ”

“Yeah, I get your dull point, pretty boy. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m stuck in this shit town and it’s nice to have something to occupy myself.”

Steve stopped walking and blinked at him. “Are you modeling?”

Billy smirked. “Why? Like what you see?”

Steve’s lips pressed together a little, those large irises wandering his face before he admitted, “Nice eyes.”

And that was that.

He just left Billy in the field and strolled back to his car.

It was up to Billy to discover that Steve wasn’t the air-headed, athlete brother. Out of the two of them, Steve was the bad boy. The baby of the family with polos and clean Nikes and spare cans of mousse and hairspray for himself and his twin under the passenger seat of his car. Father-dearest’s old BMW.

And a bat with nails in his trunk.

He still couldn’t compare with the queers in mosh pits of California, but Billy discovered he kissed a whole lot better than them anyway. He cliff-dove in the frigid quarry because that’s how the swim team selects its captain. And if Billy joined him just to see those nips puckered to cut ice, only to get shoved into the water too, who is he to complain?

Steve Harrington made him pop a boner in late November waters and then took him home for a blow job in a hot shower and homemade pot pie.

Yeah, Bryan was a looker, and Steve sometimes degraded himself as second rate, but they both showed up at the Hargrove house one night. Billy hadn’t known Steve knew his stepsister, but Max let both of them through her window, and they might’ve saved Billy’s life.

Billy would never call either of the twins bad boys out loud. But as Steve drove them - Billy, Max, Bryan, even Susan - back to the house in Loch Nora, Billy thought their faces in the dim street lighting looked like wolves. Pointed, soft, and ready.

Wolves were considered bad all the time.

Bad. Beautiful. Hunters. Thieves.

Billy earned worried and confused glances around the car when he laughed. He sat up to lean into Steve’s space and purr, “Steal me away any time, baby,” and kissed a bloody print on his jaw.

“Huh?” Steve blurted.

“He has a concussion,” Bryan declared.

#this is so unorganized omg #but uh....twins!#twins basil #harringrove #ficlet #neonponders #pondermoniums #twins!au #twin harringtons

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years ago

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Day five of Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt was monsters!

Little brat’s been in the school ten minutes after the bell.

After they both broke curfew, Max staying out late trick-or-treating and going to one of her little friends’ house to trade candy, and Billy crashing at the lingering party until he was sober enough to come home and not get his ass kicked, they were supposed to be straight home today. Used up all their free time for the week apparently.

Max knew that this morning, he already told her to forget about the damn AV club. If he had to cancel on whatever chick he was going to take out (was it Carol? No, Carol is Tommy’s girl. Fuck he doesn’t know anybody yet) Max had to give her shit up to.

He gets bored of waiting for the little twerp and tosses his cigarette to the ground, marching in there his damn self.

Only time he’s ever been in this building was to pick Max up from AV. His dad made him come all the way inside and give his assessment on the teacher. Asked (slapped him and demanded it) that he do so to check on Max. Just to be sure. Like he cares.

But it works out anyways that he knows the way now that Max has decided to disappear and it’s up to him to track her down. Only problem is he gets there, and the room is empty. Not even just that Max isn’t in there, there’s no damn kids or teacher or nothing. Just a knocked over lamp and some shit on the floor.

He ain’t trying to hunt her down, but he has to get her back home in like, the next half-hour, and she’s somewhere she ain’t supposed to be. The school isn’t very big, half the damn building is closed off for the school board to use, so there isn’t much ground to cover.

He’s not trying to get himself arrested either, so he makes quick work of the school, checking all the places Max might be. Still, he comes up empty, and he’s about to just give up and let whoever she was with keep her when he sees something scurrying across the floor out of the corner of his eye.

It’s not really any of his business whether or not the middle school is infested, but it catches his eye for the wrong reasons.

It’s a gnarly little thing, a cross between a frog and rat or some shit, but Billy’d recognize that thing anywhere. It’s a fucking monster, crawling around the halls of his sisters school.

Purely on instinct, he tracks the thing to where it cornered itself, taking advantage of the fact that it’s still small and growing into its demon teeth to stomp on the gross monster. He stops once he’s positive it’s dead and not just faking him out like they do sometimes, he’s not gross or something, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when behind him, Max shouts, “Billy!”

He turns, ignoring the pile of goop that was one of those things to face his, apparently, from the flush on her cheeks and the bitterness in her tone, “Jesus, shitbird. What is wrong with you?”

He’s hardly even got the question out before Max snaps at him, “Why would you kill it!”

“Do you even know what that thing is?” Billy raises eyebrows, no patience for Max telling him what to do, but she counters with something that surprises him, “It was Dustins, he discovered it, you jerk!”

“Yeah, no. These things’ve been around longer’n any of us have been alive. And I don't care who found it first. They’re fucking monsters.”

“How do you even know what he was? You killed him.”

“It. Not him. Don’t humanize them.” Billy hisses, warning Max, “And anyways, I seen some shit kid. Don’t ask. And don’t play around with anymore of these little fuckers. Give ‘im a day or two ‘n he’ll be the size of a gray wolf. Another month or so and he’s seven feet tall.”

“But what is he?” Max demands stubbornly.

Billy answers simply, “Something you don’t want anything to do with.”

By now, the rest of Max’s friends have followed the sound of her yelling to their little showdown, and it’s Dustin, the owner of this thing, that chimes in, “But wait, does that mean you know?”

“Know what?” Max huffs, but she gets ignored, Billy firing back at Dustin, “Do you?”

All four of the kids nod at once. Billy sighs deeply, “Jesus, how the fuck did a bunch of little kids get caught up in this bullshit?”

“How did you?” These kids aren’t very original coming back at him with his own questions like this.

Again Max interjects, being left out of the questioning just making her more confused. “Excuse me, but what exactly are we talking about?”

But again nobody acknowledges her, Billy busy answering the boys’ questions.

“Had a friend came from that lab. You know about that part too?” He clarifies, getting three attentive nods, and this time one disapproving scowl, as he explains, “Well the monsters followed ‘im. Through their portals and his head and shit, they were out in California too. That’s how I know I was right to kill that thing.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Mike insists, “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know, man. How else would he know about everything?” Lucas shrugs, exciting Dustin and promoting him to ask, “Do you think he knows about Eleven too?”

“I’m still here too you guys. What is going on?” Max interrupts, serving only as a reminder, Lucas turning the conversation back to Billy as he asks, “Why haven’t you told Max?”

Billy smugly tries their little deflecting shtick on them, “Could ask you the same. Why are you showing her the monsters if you ain’t gonna tell her jack about ‘em either? I was keeping her safe. You assholes were keeping her stupid.”

Max interjects, “Hey!”

“No, that’s not fair. We had to sign an NDA.” Dustin corrects, very matter of fact for a kid who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah, me too kid. It wasn’t any secret that number six escaped. I’ve had those assholes watchin’ over my shoulder for years and I didn’t even do anythin’.” Billy feels like he’s having a trauma competition with a bunch of middle schoolers, and he hates it. His tone is harsh as he demands, “Which brings us into, what the hell did you do to get caught up in all this?”

“None of your business.” Mike spits, but for the first time in the conversation, Will chimes in, “I got taken. By the demogorgon.”

“Okay. What’s that got to do with this, kid?”

“The demogorgon is what we called the big one. Before El killed it.” Lucas explains.

“Look, I don’t know who El is, but believe me when I tell you, you brats don’t know nothing. There ain’t just one of those, you know. Every last one of those annoying little fuckers like the one I just squished’ll turned into a ‘big one’.” They all look collectively defeated by that, maybe because he knows more than they do, or maybe just because they didn’t want to admit it was that bad.

But none look more ghastly than Will, who barely manages to inform them, “That’s bad. Last night, I heard them while we were trick-or-treating. They were everywhere.”

“Then we’re gonna have to do something.” Dustin declares determinedly, but Billy shuts it down right away, “No. Seriously, what the hell? All you sorry little punks are going right the fuck back home and pretending none of this never happened. If you don’t provoke ‘em, they’ll stop.”

“But they weren’t provoked when they took Will.” One of then argues, but Billys ignoring them now, turning back to a no less calm Max, “I don’t care. I ain’t doing this shit all over again. Come on, Maxine. Gotta leave your little friends to their baby ‘demogorgon’ and their world saving bullshit.”

Max scrunches her face up and argues, “Um, did you forget that I still have no idea what the hell is going on?!”

“Honestly, yeah.” Billy admits, “But s’better if you don’t ask questions. Now if you please, we gotta go.”

“No. You’re being a jerk.” Max crosses her arms and glares at him, a clear sign shes refusing to leave with him.

Billy just shrugs, “M’always a jerk. Thought you’d know that by now.”

“I do. And that’s exactly why I’m not listening to you. If my friends are going to do something, I want in on it.”

“Look what you little fuckers did.” Billy grumbles at the boys before trying to reason with his sister again, “Max. We only got fifteen minutes out of an almost half hour drive to get home. Come on.”

“This is so much bigger than that! I don’t care what your stupid dad says, I want to do something!” Her attitude gets on Billy’s nerves. That’s definitely deliberate if the spite gleaming in her cold eyes is any indication.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“Then I deserve to find out!”

Billy sighs deeply, done doing this with a bunch of little kids in over their heads, “You know what, fine, but we’re stoppin’ at a payphone and you’re gonna be the one to tell my old man I’m takin’ you out for.. I don’t know, fucking ice cream or some shit. And if we get in trouble, I’m blaming you. Deal?”

Max smiles to herself at having gotten one over on him, “Deal. Where are we going though?”

“I dunno. Ask your nerds. S’their big fucking idea.” Billy grumbles, matching Max’s bitterness.

“We’ll have to call a meeting.”

“Will my basement work?”

“No offense, but I don’t think he’s getting past your mom.” Dustin nods towards Billy, the older boy rolling his eyes even though he’s not wrong, then offers, “My mom doesn’t like visitors. Maybe Will’s?”

“Yeah, Mrs. Byers will let anybody come over.”

“And she already knows what’s going on.”

They all nod again, and Billy rolls his eyes at them again while Lucas relays their decision to Max, “Alright, meet us at Will’s in an hour.”

“Why that long though? We’re all here right now.”

“Gives us time to cover our tracks, shitbird.” Billy hums in response to Max, stepping forward and asking, “What’s the damn address?”

This ‘meeting’ the twerps called was pretty much everyone in this hick town that knows the same dirty little secret as he does getting together in a tiny house and panicking. Billy and Max get fully interrogated like, a dozen times, once by the damned chief of police himself, all the while everyone is coming up with theories and plots and arguing. So much fucking arguing among this lot.

It gets to be too much pretty quickly, day five in this place and he’s already having to jump back into some of the worst things that ever happened to him. None of these people realize how big this is. Especially not the kids who just think it’s badass to fight monsters.

He leaves without telling anyone, or without anyone noticing among the chaos, to the back porch to light one up. There’re ashtrays all over the house he could use, but looming smoke in that cramped little kitchen wasn’t going to be any better than watching it curl upwards to the stars. So outside it was.

He leans against the wall, gaze fixing straight to what’s above him. He doesn’t notice the presence of another person until he hears them speak, startling slightly at the sound of a voice breaking the calm silence of a humid November night.

It’s Steve, sitting on a rusty and banged up glider at the opposite end on the porch, lit up just like he is. “So, uh. I guess you’re a part of this now?”

“I guess I am.”

Steve just nods and responds simply, effectively ending the conversation, “Right.”

But that’s not satisfying to Billy. He might appreciate peace more than what’s going on in that house, but he doesn’t like empty silence either. “What’re we all awkward like this for, Harrington? Spit out what you’re thinkin’.”

“I dunno, man.”

Billy frowns, prompting, “Come on. I know them gears are turnin’ over there. You've been quiet since we all got here.”

Steve looks away from him, but he does answer, “I dunno it’s just.. We’ve lost so much. People died because of this. People I knew. And I don’t like that anyone else is involved I guess.”

Billy scoffs, “Even me? You don’t even know me other than the asshole you met at the party last night.”

“So? What do you mean even you? I don’t want anyone anywhere near those fucking monsters. Could be my worst enemy and I’d still save them. I’d protect anyone from those things.” The haunted look behind his eyes, which seem so tired the longer Billy looks, tells Billy everything he needs to know.

He doesn’t mean to sound so soft when he asks, “What makes you so confident you can? Save ‘em I mean.”

“I fought a demogorgon myself. Well, not really by myself. Nancy and Jonathan were there. But I took a nail bat to its fucking face. Like hell I’d just let one of those things get anyone. Even you.” Steve

Billy flicks away his burnt out cigarette, sitting next to Steve on the old glider. “That’s real touching H, but I ain’t letting nobody sacrifice themselves for me. Need I remind you I’ve fought these assholes too.”

“But you told the kids you didn’t. Said it was all your friend.” Steve looks at him, sort of doubtful, but Billy blows off the remark, “No shit Sherlock. I ain’t airing all my business to any nosy brats like them.”

“I get that, but.. “ Hesitantly, he clarifies, “Is.. your friend, you know, even real?”

Billy must look at him like he grew a second head, “Shit, man, you think I’m one of those freaky experiments? No way. ‘Course he was real.”

“Oh. You said ‘was.’ Does that mean...” Steve’s voice trails off, sparing him hearing the words out loud.

“Don’t know. He got caught about two years back. Haven’t heard from him since. They might’a brought ‘im back here, they might’a killed him. I dunno.” Billy shrugs, picking at his nails while he talks so he doesn’t have to acknowledge Steve, or the fact that he’s even admitting this shit to him, “That’s why we’re here in Hawkins though. Susan’s got family over in Hope and a little ways up by Indie, so I suggested Hawkins. Just to come see where he came from. Get some closure I guess.”

“Guess he was really important to you then?” Steve smiles softly, but Billy only sighs through his nose, “You got no idea, Harrington.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll meet someone like him again.” He offers.

Somehow that sentiment immediately sets Billy on edge though, something about his tone implying that he knows, knows him and six were more than just friends, and Billy really doesn’t want to face that kind of monster tonight. He snaps, suddenly defensive, “What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

Steve’s face falls a little, evidently surprised by how upset Billy is, and he tries to fix it, “Oh I just thought that, the way you talked about him- and you look so sad when you do- that he was, you know, special to you.”

“So what? You gonna leave me to the monsters or some shit for that?” Billy growls, quickly warranting more defense from Steve, “What? No way. No I.. I get it, Billy. I do. More than you probably think I do.”

Billy half nods, his shoulders untensing as he slowly recognizes Steve’s genuinity. He mumbles eventually, working through what he needs to in his head to be comfortable talking openly with him again, “Didn’t expect to be getting relationship counseling too. That your assignment on the team, mister romance expert?”

“Shut up. You’ve never seen me swing a bat before.”

“Oh believe me, I cannot wait to.”

Steve’s smile returns, something Billy is personally glad for, though he might not be ready for that realization yet. He bumps their shoulders together, to hold Billy's attention and let him know he’s genuine, “Still, in all seriousness man, I hope you can find someone else like that for you. I know it’s not really easy pickings around here.”

This time, Billy’s tone is light, his features soft and vulnerable for the boy next to him, for the way he makes him feel less weighed down, less alone in this, “You got no idea, Harrington.”

#CherryLangeChallenge #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#this is probably a disaster but I don’t care #season two au where literally none of the bad shit that happens happens except that the monsters are back #has my dialogue been too southern lately?#I feel like I’ve been writing Bills with an accent oopsie

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

Text

Californian Dream (Pt. 06 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

Intimacy

In the last few days, you have been accompanying Billy on his job. Nobody made any questions yet, so you're good so far. You're trying not to think about the beach incident too much, and since your days are now occupied with something else than the news channel, you're succeeding. But today, there's this party Billy told you about. He briefly mentioned it, and since the subject never came up again, you concluded that he doesn't want you to go. But you won't let it go that easily.

So you've been trying to convince Billy to take you to this harmless party for the last two hours, and he just surrendered after you reminded him that he said he'd take you to one of his parties one day. And the day came, even though the circumstances aren't the ideal.

But it doesn't matter now, because you're already in his car, nodding your head at the beat of the song playing, breathing in the night air. You shiver a little since the thin straps shirt you decided to wear doesn't provide any protection against the cold wind.

“Should've taken a jacket,” Billy says, glancing at you.

“I'll warm up when I start dancing.”

“So you'll dance.” He chuckles, his free hand half covering his mouth. “That's something I'd like to see.”

“Well, if someone takes me out to dance, I might.” Shrugging your shoulders, you look away from him, secretly hoping he'll do exactly that.

It takes another ten minutes until he stops, the music already banging. Billy guides you around a small house until the back yard, which is crowded already. People are dancing, eating pizza, and playing cards, all laughing and shouting. It's so different from anything you've ever been to. Those formal meetings were always silent and dull, with everything following a schedule. But this... This is just people having fun, doing whatever they want.

“So? What do you think?” Billy asks, coming closer so he can make himself heard above the music.

“It's loud!” Your answer. “I love it.”

“Come. I'll introduce you to some friends.” He makes his way through the people to a plastic table on the back of the yard. All the five people in it smile to see him, happily waving. “What's up, guys? This is...” His voice fades and he stares at you. It hits you suddenly that you can't just say your name. It would be dangerous, but it only got to you now.

“Lily!” You think fast, reaching out your hand shaking theirs. “I'm Lily.”

“Hi, Lily.” They mutter, shouting above the music. The only one who didn't seem very interested, seated further away, keeps staring at you, but you pretend not to notice.

“Is she your girl?” The guy asks, and you immediately shake your head no.

“No–”

“No.” Billy says at the same time you do, and you both exchange a glance, your cheeks burning.

“I'm Chad.” The guy finally speaks, standing up from his seat and walking over to you. “A pleasure to meet you.”

You're not that innocent. It's obvious he's interested, and now that he knows you're not ‘Billy's girl’, he thinks he can make a move. “Yeah. It's nice to meet you too.” Stepping away, you glance at Billy, who has a weird expression on his face. He engages in a conversation with the others, and you try to keep up. Chad stands by your side, moving closer as if you weren't noticing.

Then, Beat It starts playing, and a smile immediately comes to your lips, and you can't help but move your shoulders and head to the beat. “I love this song.” You exclaim, and some of the guys nod.

“Come dance with me then.” Chad invites, already taking your hand and pulling you.

“No, thanks.” You tell him, standing your ground. But Chad doesn't let go of your hand, his grip tightening to the point you have no choice but to move forward.

“Alright. Let go of her.” Billy violently pushes Chad away, so suddenly it startles you. “Isn't it clear she doesn't want to go with you? Are you deaf or something?”

“What? If she's not your girl I can have my chance.” Chad raises his hands in defeat, tilting his head towards you.

“Fine. Then she is my girl.” Billy's storm voice is easily heard above the music, and when you give a glance at the table, everybody is up, looking very... Surprised. Your friends said Billy can get violent sometimes, so why do they look so... Perplexed?

“Alright. Just give me her phone when you're done running her pretty little–”

You don't even have time to react to his disgusting tone, because Billy is shoving him back, making him swallow his words and placing a hard punch on his jaw, and when he's stumbling back, Billy pulls him by the collar of his shirt, bringing his knee to his stomach. Chad jerks forward, a groan escaping his lips, before falling to the ground. Some people around are staring, the dancing long forgotten.

“If you'll get anywhere near her, I'll break your damn nose.” A kick on Chad's side, making him turn around, starting to crawl away. Billy finds you again, coming closer. “Are you alright?”

Why did he do that? You can defend yourself, even though you've never been in a situation like that. But... It makes you feel funny. Your whole body is hot, and you're trying to catch your breath. “Yeah.” Pushing the words out, you lock eyes with Billy. “...Thanks.”

“Don't bother.” He gives Chad one last look, but he's already far, limping away.

“No, I... That was really nice of you, Billy.” He always does that, as if the things he does aren't important. But this was very, very important to you. “Thank you.”

“Alright.” He nods, a hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the table. “So, now that your my girl for the night, wanna dance?”

“Well, I do love this song.” Following Billy to the middle of the yard, you stop among the others, already dancing. But when you see how the others are moving, you notice it way too far from what you're used to. “Uhm... I don't think I can do that.” You tell him, tiptoeing to get closer to him an ear.

“I thought you knew how.”

“I can slow dance. I took classes but this... I've never been to any parties where people move like that.” Everyone is way too close to their dancing partner and you're very happy you didn't even consider trying to dance with Chad.

“Just feel the music.” He moves closer, a hand around your waist. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” Of course, it is. Billy pulls your closer and starts to move, and you soon follow. It doesn't take long until you're singing along too.

And when it really starts kicking in, you start moving by yourself. And it means you get closer and closer to Billy, spinning around, having his arms around you all the time. You never felt so wild, carelessly moving around, your body colliding with his way too many times, but he doesn't seem to care. And neither do you. You like it, and there's nobody else you'd like to dance with.

When Billy Jean starts banging, you turn to face him, arms around his neck as you follow the beat. Billy's grip on your hips is strong, keeping you there, close to his body. “I'll teach you how to slow dance.” You tell him when you're close to his ear. Billy makes a funny face, turning you around and pushing your back against his chest.

“I don't think that's really my thing.” He says, and you shiver to feel his hot breath on your neck.

Elbowing him lightly, you spin around, holding on to the collar of his jacket. “This was not my thing either but look at me now. I'm... Trying.” Shrugging your shoulders, you bump into Billy when a couple passes by, hitting your back. “Sorry.”

“You're not trying, you're great.” He smiles, and the proximity sends ideas through your mind. If you kissed him here... It would make sense. It'd feel right. Your eyes fall to his lips, and you want to know how they feel like so bad... Maybe it would turn you into another of his girls... But you want to try it... Maybe it's the music, or how you've been dancing together, or how amazing this crazy party is... Everything is pushing you to him, and you don't wanna fight it.

“Thank you.” You mutter, and you feel his hand on your face, fingers softly caressing your cheek. Billy never did that. Maybe he's intoxicated by the moment too. And moments pass. Soon enough they're in the past, and you don't want this to the just a moment. So you step down, putting some distance.

“What?” He asks, using his index finger to raise your face to meet his eyes again. “Everything alright?”

“Yes.” You smile, and for the first time, you notice you wish this could be a thing. Something real, solid... “I'm alright.”

“We should go home. Gotta work tomorrow.”

“Yeah...”

Billy says goodbye to his friends, and you silently make your way to the car. The ride home is also quiet, as you watch the night lights. There's this feeling, this sensation in your heart. Something you never felt before. Being around Billy has become one of your favorite things, and today, you realized just how close you wanna be. But still, you can't let this feeling grow. You're living together, and this will mess things up. Billy wouldn't fall for you, some rich kid, spoiled, stupid... The best thing to do is let it go, and hope it'll disappear with time.

“It's your turn on the bed.” He says when you're home already, in pajamas, the air-conditioning making you a little cold as you pour yourself some water.

“I know.”

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks, standing up from the couch. “You've been unusually quiet since we left the party. If I did anything you weren't comfortable with I–”

“No!” You exclaim, putting the empty glass in the sink. “That's not it. Today was amazing, I really enjoyed it.” Smiling, you look down at your feet. You never wanted him to feel bad about anything. “It was way better than the formal events I had to attempt... Maybe... Maybe you could take me to some parties, you know... When you're not with a girl.”

“I'm not seeing anyone, so... Guess you'll be my date for parties for a while.”

Biting your lip, you try to suppress the smile, but it escapes anyway. You're tired, eyes heavy, and you know how dangerous it is, how sleep pushes the words out. But right now, you don't care. You feel comfortable around Billy, even to admit the things you don't like talking about. “That's nice. Uhm... About that Chad guy. Thanks, again. Nobody ever did that for me and... I've already had to deal with guys flirting like that but nobody cared enough to stand up for me.”

“None of your boyfriends ever stood up for you?” Billy comes to the table, leaning against the it, right before you. “A pretty girl like you probably had many.”

A giggle escapes your lips, but a yawn covers it up. “Well... No. You know the options I have, so...” Shrugging your shoulders, you look into his ocean blue eyes, the kitchen light illuminating his handsome features. “I'll tell you something, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“You know I can't promise that.” He chuckles, and you smile.

“Yeah, I know...”

“But go ahead.”

“I...” Putting a strand of hair away from your face, you lean against the countertop. “I never really kissed anyone. Well, there was this guy in my Freshman year in High School, but it was just a peck on the lips, not a real thing...” Squinting your eyes, you expect him to laugh, but a small, kind smile is everything you see.

“Why?” It doesn't sound like he's mocking you, but like he actually wanna know.

“I always thought that a kiss is something very... Intimate. I know it's silly and you probably think I'm some kind of prude.” Nervously, you pace around the kitchen, wondering why exactly you're telling him this. You never spoke of this to anyone, not even Amelia. “But to me it's something special, to be shared with someone special, and in my life, I never wanted to do that with anyone... Until now.” The last part just rolls out your tongue, and you immediately freeze, a hand running through your hair. “A-and you know, the guys I'm surrounded by are just jerks and the very thought of kissing any of them is disgusting.” You can feel his eyes on your back, as you pretend to fix the dishcloth, just to have something to do. “I'd rather die alone.”

“Until now?” Billy inquires, his voice a little darker now, stronger, deeper, echoing through your mind.

“Yeah, I just mean–”

“No.” Billy comes closer, touching your arm and taking the dishcloth from your hand, placing it on the table, away from your reach. “Tell me what you really mean. Don't dissimulate.”

Taking a deep breath, you step back, trying to put some distance between you and him, but your back hits the wall. “I just...” Avoiding his gaze, you run a hand through your hair. “From all the guys I ever met, you're the only one I ever... I ever considered kissing or... Maybe even dating, but that's just–that's just...” Shit. It took five seconds for you to admit everything you've been trying to keep hidden. How does Billy do that? How does he open your heart so easily? “I–I'm sorry. I gotta go.” You move, trying to reach the hall, eager for the comfort of the bedroom, where you will be alone with your thoughts for a while.

But you don't go far. Billy holds your arm, like Chad did, yet so differently. It's gentle, and you don't even try to resist it. You just stop, your eyes meeting his. “Don't go, just...”

“Forget I said anything. I told you, I get a little too brave when I'm sleepy and–”

You don't have the chance to finish, because his lips come crashing down on yours, so suddenly, yet so soft. One of his hands caresses your cheek, and the other finds its way around your waist, but instead of pulling you close, as he did while you were dancing, this time it just rests there, delicately. And you, who never kissed anyone, knows exactly what to do. Following his pace, slow and sweet, you move closer, your arms wrapping around his neck. When he puts some more pressure, deepening the kiss, you allow him in, your chest collapsing against his.

But the damn phone rings, so damn loud it makes you jump, stepping away from Billy, a hand on your lips.

He looks down at you for a while before rolling his eyes and moving to answer the phone. “Who's this?” He sounds annoyed, a little angry even. “Alright.” He turns at you. “Your father.”

“Oh.” Snapping out of the stupor, you go to the phone, giving Billy a small smile. “Hey, dad.”

The conversation goes on the same way it always does. How you're doing. If Billy is taking care of you, that the investigators are doing their best so you'll be able to go back home soon. But you're not sure if you wanna go back, to the huge bedroom you turned into a small apartment so you'd had a place to hide for days if needed. You're way better here, even though you don't know how things will be now.

When you hang up, you know how it'll be. Billy is used to kissing many, many girls, and that was just a kiss. At least your first real kiss was with someone you enjoy being with, and not one of those idiots. “I'll get some sleep.” You tell him, blushed cheeks as you give a little wave before closing yourself in the bedroom.

The night is restless, and every time you close your eyes you're kissing him again, over and over, until you can't think about else than his taste. And when you wake up, you know the day won't be any better. Billy went to Gisele's house today, and you couldn't go since everyone there knows you very well. And you didn't want to, because the memories you have there are many. So the day goes by pretty much the same way it always does, but this time you made yourself something for lunch.

When the evening is coming, you're just checking the news, to see if something else was found, or if the police are any closer, before starting off dinner.

You jump from your seat when the woman announces they released Alice, two days after the payment of five million dollars was made. She was found in an alley, across the state, unconscious... But that's not what shocks you, what makes you fall back into the couch, tears rolling down furiously and your whole body shaking. It's not the bruises on her face, the tiny cuts and scratches... What makes terror overcome you is that Alice wasn't set free in one piece.

You're frozen, eyes on the TV, but not really listening, the images just an indistinguishable blur. But when you hear the door opening, you set in motion, going straight into Billy's arms, sobbing, hiding your head on his chest.

“Hey.” He says, but you barely hear him above your cry. “(Y/N), what happened? You're scaring me.”

“They cut off her fingers.” You push out, trying not to stutter through the words. “They let Alice go but they cut off her fingers.”

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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