#let billy be soft | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cavinginhisfvce · 1 year

Text

Little!Billy

Sweet Baby Billy gets the cuddles and affection he deserves.

Flurries of snow fell to the ground as Billy trudged up the walkway to Steve's house, the air was harsh when he breathed in.

He wasn't sure which hurt more, the sting of his steadily bruising ribs, or the cold, sharp intakes of breath. It didn't matter in the end, because everything just hurt, his body was alight with different aches on a good day.

Today wasn't a good day, the aches were replaced by searing pain, an unfortunate side effect of discussions with his father.

Neil was pissed at Billy because Susan gave Max permission to spend the weekend with her nerd squad. Despite having nothing to do with his step-mothers decision, Billy still found himself on the receiving end of Neil's anger. It was better him than her or Max, at least that's what he told himself as his dad rounded on him, swiftly knocking the air out of his body.

He was demanding Billy bring Max back home, however Billy had no intentions of doing so.

It didn't matter if Max came home today, or Sunday, because in the end; it was Billy who would end up bloody and broken, so he opted out of ruining her weekend and subsequently his own any further than Neil already had.

This meant he couldn't go home for the next few days as well, leaving him with nowhere to escape the storm that was rapidly picking up momentum.

There was one place, though. One place he was always welcomed, always safe.

This is what landed him at Steve's front door, his eye was swollen shut, the right side of his face aches and burns from where his father's wedding ring undoubtedly made a gash, if the dried blood on his jacket was any indication. He should've called first, or even texted.

Max and her friends were probably all in Harrington's den, playing that fucking fantasy game that she claimed was stupid, but he had found her learning more about in free time.

Any other time, Billy would've gone anywhere besides where Max was, especially with his face busted. Not to mention her nosy friends, but this time was different. He had nowhere else to go, not that he'd choose to be anywhere else.

When he finally gathered the courage to knock, the door swung open and revealed a smiling Steve Harrington, though said smile quickly dropped as he took in Billy's appearance, his warm hands reaching out to pull the younger boy into the familiar household.

Before the door had fully clicked shut, Billy was letting himself fall into Steve's embrace, a welcomed fog creeping into his mind as the other wrapped his arms around Billy.

"Hey, Sweet Boy...I've got you…" That was all it had taken for Billy to dissolve into a heap of silent tears, his face pressed into the crook of Steve's shoulder, as he breathed in his boyfriend’s comforting scent.

It didn't take a genius to figure out Billy's father hurt him again, Steve could feel the anger shimmering inside of him, but he forced it down in favor of comforting the boy in his arms.

Billy had all but molded their bodies together with a pained whimper, his face pressing into the crook of Steve's neck.

Soft sniffles could be heard as Steve guided the smaller boy to the couch, his body shaking from the cold or maybe something else; Steve couldn't pinpoint.

It had taken Billy a while, but his tears eventually subsided.

He was situated in Steve's lap, wrapped in a fuzzy throw blanket as the elder rubbed soothing circles along his back; burrowing closer, he hid his face in Steve's neck with a small whine.

A whine. Steve knew that meant Billy had dropped, which would explain why the blond was attempting to turn their two bodies into one. It wasn't unusual for Billy in his regular headspace, he just approached cuddling differently. In little space, Billy was quick to manhandle Steve to get the position he wanted, but outside of it, he would just stare at Steve until the elder boy got the hint.

"Hurts, Dada." Another whine left the boy, his fingers painfully curled into the fabric of the latter's shirt. Steve was quick to run a hand up the boy's back, softly cooing as he buried his nose into Billy's curls, "I know, baby. Can Daddy get up to get you some medicine?" Billy immediately shook his head hysterically, a small cry bubbling from his lips, "N-no, Daddy. C-can't leave Billy-Bee!"

Steve would gently shush Billy, his tone soft. "I'm not gonna go anywhere without you, Sweet Boy. You can always come with me." Billy looked up at Steve with watery eyes, his bottom lip wobbling, "B-Billy go wit' Daddy?"

Steve would hurriedly nod his head, and scoop Billy into his arms the moment his own feet hit the ground.

Billy's arms wrap around his Caregivers neck as he moves to bury his face in the crook of Steve's neck once more.

It wasn't the easiest task, but eventually Billy was cleaned up, all evidence of a run in with his father washed away by soft kisses to his nose and cheeks, and the sting of antiseptics. Obviously, his eye was still swollen, angry reds and purples covering smooth skin. His lip, while no longer bleeding, posed the all too real threat of opening back up.

It wasn't until he had Billy dressed in a pair of fuzzy pajama pants and an oversized sweater, his pacifier dangling dangerously from his lips, that the kids had finally trailed out the den to find Steve and demand food.

They found him rummaging through the freezer.

When Max's eyes landed on Billy, she immediately gasped and rushed over to him, her hand gently reaching out to cup his bruising cheek. His lack of resistance informed her that her brother had dropped, something she'd only witnessed twice since their parents had married. She didn't have a chance to speak before Billy was clinging to her, mindlessly nuzzling against her shoulder. "H-Hi, Maxie! D-daddy is makin' dinos!" To say Max was confused was an understatement, but she knew better than to let it show, if she'd learned anything about Littles in school, it was that their emotions were often a mess, and any signs of discomfort would weigh heavily on them. "Oh, really? Stevie knows how to make the best nuggets!" This had Billy nodding as he peered up at Max, his blue eyes wide and shining with an innocence she'd never known her abrasive older brother to have.

"N-not Stevie! D-daddy!" He spoke slowly, as if to emphasize that Max had called Steve by the wrong name, but a giggle followed his words. "He's your Daddy, Bubba. He's Stevie to us."

"Uh, what the fuck?" It was Mike who spoke, his confusion clear as day. Immediately Max whipped her head around to glare at him, her fiery locks all but slapping her in the face, "don't curse in front of him, idiot!"

At that, Billy giggled again, a finger pointed at Mike as he spoke, "i-idiot!" His smile after was so big, so warm, that neither Max nor Steve made any move to correct him, both in fact just let out a coo, ignoring the sounds of indignation from Mike.

The kids were all learning about Classification in school, though only Will had ever met a Little. His brother was a Little, but it wasn't often he saw him regressed. He was usually with Nancy.

They were all shocked to learn Billy Hargrove was a Little, but the shock wore off the moment Billy began doling out nicknames for his new 'Fwends".

Mike was Mickey, and when asked why the boy simply declared that he didn't like Mickey Mouse, and he didn't like Mike. Mike was upset, but quickly got over it when Billy gave him one of his nuggets.

Lucas was Lu-Lu. Billy seemed proud of himself for the name, especially when Lucas beamed at him, and reached over to high five him, stating the name fit him perfectly.

Dustin was Bunny, because he looked "'xactly like a Bunny! Jus' a Dust Bunny!" No one had the heart to tell him that dust bunnies didn't look like actual bunnies, especially with the way his blue eyes seemed to shine with something akin to pride.

Will was dubbed Bee-Bee, once Billy had learned they shared the same name and had then decided they needed a similar nickname.

Jane was simply Janey, but she had adored hearing the name from Billy, a lisp to his words when he called out to her.

Naturally, Max had become Maxie, but no one was surprised as he had yelled it upon seeing her.

Instead of returning to their game, everyone spilled into the living room, where Steve put on The Nightmare Before Christmas, and scooped Billy up into his arms, much to the displeasure of Dustin who had been curled up with Billy's head on his lap.

"Get your own Little, this one is mine." He punctuated his words by tightening his arms around Billy's waist.

"Don't be an ass, Steve! You see him this way all the time."

From his place on Steve's lap, Billy peered up at Dustin and gasped, "N-no say that, D-daddy is not ass!"

Steve was torn between scolding the boy for cursing, and praising him for his quick defense. He hadn't needed to do either before Max was ruffling Billy's hair, cooing her own praise, and Jane was gently reminding him he shouldn't use bad words.

Dustin silently apologized to both Steve and the regressed boy, the latter leaning over to hug him in acceptance.

It was clear that Billy was tactile in his headspace, which came as no surprise to The Party as they knew Billy's father wasn't the warmest person.

238 notes · View notes

phantombeesting · 2 years

Text

Billy: “Look I’ve said I’m sorry”

Steve: ……

Billy: “Repeatedly”

Steve: …….

Billy: “But you look at him”

~Billy lifts up the fluffiest kitten putting it’s small ginger face right in front of Steve’s totally not sulking face~

Billy: “Just look at him and tell me he’s not a pretty boy”

Steve: ……..

Billy: “You’re still MY pretty boy though”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy is a cat lover #Steve is totally not jealous of a cat #except he really is #pretty boy steve Harrington #soft bois #just let me picture them happy #stranger things headcanons #stranger things

720 notes · View notes

disdaidal · 2 years

Text

Billy and Eddie, both bored in Hawkins. Breaking into cars, hotwiring them. Taking midnight rides until the gas runs out. Until they’ll have to find a new car to break into. Or hitch a ride.

Hopper’s tired of their shit. Keeps bringing them into his office, giving them one of his many lectures. Both staring at him with bright eyes, like two choirboys and angels all of a sudden, pretending that they don’t know shit. Hopper always lets them out with a stern warning, ignoring their victorious smirks that they hide badly as they pass him by, knowing they’re just gonna go back to their mischief once again.

Drinking beer, getting high together. Borrowing each other’s jackets when it gets too cold in the night. Listening to Metallica, headbanging and playing the air guitar. Fooling around at the backseat of Billy’s car (or any car they’ve stolen) or Eddie’s van. Slowly falling in love with each other but denying it for a long time.

Eddie is always revved up but he’s never felt like this until he met Billy. He’s never had a friend like him, so connected to him, nor a lover as passionate as him. Billy’s talked about moving out of Hawkins sometimes, getting away from the monster that’s his dad. It makes Eddie anxious - he can hardly stop thinking about it as lies in his bed, next to Billy, stroking his hair once the blonde has already fallen asleep. Wayne knows they’re together - he doesn’t mind it at all, as long as they don’t mess up the whole house.

What Eddie doesn’t know that Billy can’t sleep either. He pretends to be asleep, so he gets these cuddles and these gentle gestures of affection that Eddie keeps giving him when he thinks Billy’s sleeping. ‘Cause Billy always puts up an act, that he’s in it for sex and nothing else. That cuddling and shit is meant for romance and relationships only. That they should only remain as friends, not turn into anything more serious because it’s not going to work anyway.

But the truth is, Billy’s scared. Even more than Eddie. Hell, Eddie doesn’t even seem to be scared. He’d probably hug and kiss Billy in front of everybody, for the shock value - just to piss off pious cunts like Jason Carver.

Billy’s not like him. He’s loud and obnoxious - just like Eddie. And Eddie’s tough, genuine. His every emotion is on the surface, and Eddie isn’t afraid to say what he thinks or show how he feels. Eddie might be fragile and sensitive in his own way - the ways he’s only shown Billy and Wayne -, but he easily masks it with his wicked sense of humor, proudly flipping the finger at bullies and haters and making freakish faces at them.

Yeah, Eddie might be a ‘freak’, but he’s a proud freak. And it turns Billy on.

Billy secretly wishes he could have the same kind of confidence. That he wouldn’t have to hang around with dickbags like Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, pretending to be one of them, and not wince for one bit when they keep calling Eddie a freak and a Satan worshipper and what else loudly in the cafeteria. That his heart doesn’t ache for him when he carefully glances in Eddie’s direction, at his table where surrounded by his D&D freak friends and some of Max’s dorky friends - or when Eddie looks at him and gives him a wink.

All the time Billy’s thinking and saying that he’s moving to California once he’s graduated high school. He keeps saying that to Eddie, secretly hoping that the brunet would have a reaction of some kind: that Eddie would say something, anything, to make him stay. Or ask to come with him, get the hell away from Hawkins. Move with him to California. And whenever Eddie just nods and pats Billy’s back and gives him an encouraging smile, Billy feels his heart sink a little more every time.

He doesn’t know what he wants anymore. There’s one thing he knows he wants for sure, but he’s too afraid to ask for it. Too afraid to speak up and tell how he really feels, when he really means it.

So he carefully leans back against Eddie. Closes his eyes and still pretends to be asleep as he slowly turns around in Eddie’s arms and nuzzles his face against his T-shirt. Inhaling the familiar scent that he’s already grown addicted to - God, Eddie smells so good. He slightly clutches at Eddie’s shirt inside his first and gives a happy little sigh when Eddie slips his arm around his waist, resting his hand on Billy’s back, then leans forward to press a kiss in his hair.

In that moment, Billy knows he never wants to leave Eddie’s side ever again. He doesn’t want to wake up tomorrow and go back to school again, playing the popular jock, and only Eddie’s friend and fuck buddy when they’re back in Eddie’s trailer, away from the prying, judgmental eyes.

Eddie wishes they could be more. That Billy would move out of Cherry Lane and move in with him and Wayne. Granted, there’s not enough space for three people. But they would make it fit. Wayne has pretty much accepted Billy as his second son already. He isn’t much at home anyway, working at nights and consequently, Eddie often feels lonely. With Billy, he’s found company and someone to share his passions with. Someone to talk about music and argue with about stupid shit that no one else but him and Billy would care about. Someone to genuinely care about his guitar-playing, and Eddie can’t help but feeling smug every time he plays his guitar and glances at Billy and sees his pretty dreamy blue eyes looking at him.

Eddie knows he’s being impossible and unrealistic and daydreaming, but he wants those eyes on him all the time. He feels jealous when he sees the airbrained high school girls fawning all over Billy, knowing Billy could pick any of them at any time, to play his little ‘straight guy act’. Maybe even fall in love with one of them, just to please his shitty old man, that doesn’t deserve him as his son.

Eddie wants to protect Billy. Help him. Make him feel safe. He can’t physically fight any of Billy’s demons, especially not his father. That’s Billy’s kind of thing, except he isn’t fighting back his old man. But Eddie knows and thinks he could offer something even better and that’s his unconditional love.

But he knows it’s all in vain. Billy only wants him as his playmate, something to comfort him at nights, keep his bed warm. Eddie sighs and his heart aches a little more when Billy actually cuddles against him, albeit deep in sleep, seeking his warmth and comfort and closeness. To Eddie, it feels so good and it hurts so bad at the same time. He wishes he could have Billy like this at all times, in his arms, cuddled against him, without feeling this heavy burden of worry and anxiety pressing his heart. The dread of losing Billy, losing them, which according to Billy, would happen soon enough.

Eddie doesn’t want it. He wants to graduate and he wants Billy to be happy. He doesn’t want to let go of Billy. He doesn’t want Billy to leave him.

His palm presses against Billy’s back, blunt fingernails slightly scraping against his clothed skin. His mouth and nose buried in Billy’s well-tamed curls, pressing a loving kiss there. Eddie wants to kiss so much more but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment and actually wake up Billy.

A single tear falls from the corner of Billy’s eye and he suppresses a quiet sob against Eddie’s shirt. Fuck.

#mungrove #eddie x billy #billy x eddie #mungrove fanfiction #mungrove ficlet #my writing #sorry this isn't the writing piece ya'll asked to get tagged to #it's coming along i promise #but this thing just... hit me tonight. and i haven't written let alone finished anything proper since february #so i'm quite happy with this. and i hope you guys like it <3 #i needed soft boys just like i need hot boys

482 notes · View notes

uu-tella · 5 months

Text

At some point before the battle against Spring,

Bunny wanted a Christmas tree and they all had to improvise.

(Happy Holidays, everyone!)

Commission by @lovethedanielhd

#How it went in my mind:#Bunny: It's almost Christmas and we don't have a tree *sad noises*#Fuuko; jokingly: Huh Mr. Tella's communication thingy looks like a Christmas star #Latla convincing Rip to help her: *kidnaps Tella and transforms him in a tree for Bunny*#Tella: *just let them do whatever because he has a soft spot for bunny*#does this make sense with the canon? no #do i care? also no #uu tella #undead unluck #100th loop #fanart #lovethedanielhd #ALSO SHOUT OUT to that Japanese account that saw this and thought it was Billy who tied up- I wasn't going that route but you're a real one #you can interpret it that way if you want to bdkshdms #BTW It literally just turned 25 here a #why do i live in the other part of the world lmao

18 notes · View notes

cherrydreamer · 2 years

Text

Out of the many things that Steve Harrington has learned while living with Billy-possibly the most surprising, other than Billy's no-longer-so-secret love of ABBA- is the fact that he is a dozer. A napper. He has the sleep habits of a middle aged dad. He'll curl up in a sun-drenched armchair to read and, when Steve walks by not ten minutes later, the book is splayed open on his chest and Billy's letting out cute little mi-mi-mi snores, or Billy'll head outside to catch some rays on their porch, and Steve knows it won't be long before the glass of lemonade is gonna slip from his hand as he snoozes on the swing. He even manages to fall asleep in the bath, his head resting on a floaty neck pillow, his dick peeping out from a mound of vanilla scented bubbles.

And if Steve has the audacity to put on a movie for the two of them any time past the oh-so-late hour of 9pm? Well, he knows that he's gonna end up being used as a pillow before the movie's even halfway done. It's a whole dance that Steve quickly learns the steps to. It starts with Billy wrapping himself up in one of the throws slung over the back of the couch, mumbling something about being cold, and then, a few moments later, Billy's head will fall against Steve's shoulder and Billy will 'rest his eyes' like that for a while before he sits up and grumbles and shuffles around until he stretches himself out and says he's 'just getting comfy' as he rest his head in Steve's lap. And, five minutes later, like clockwork, Steve's gonna be hearing snores.

And Steve doesn't mind at all. He'll happily play with Billy's hair, combing his fingers through the curls and braiding little bits of it, and he'll stroke his fingers along Billy's arm and back and draw pictures and write messages, and he'll tug that throw blanket right back up over Billy's shoulders when it starts to slip.

(And, of course, every time, Billy has an uncanny ability to wake himself up right before the credits are starting to roll and he'll grumble again and say "Ugh, well that was a dumb one. Didn't even make any sense. Told ya we shoulda just watched Top Gun again.")

#harringrove #cherrywrites #domestic fluff as per usual #sleepy‚ cosy boys being so soft #and yes ok there's the whole 'billy finally feeling safe enough to let his guard down and nap' thing #we all like that‚ right?

334 notes · View notes

chaos-and-clowns · 29 days

Text

Y'all, just remembered my "I'm not like the other girls" phase and completely REJECTED the color pink. Like, I don't understand the issue. I frickin love pink now.

#pink aesthetic #pinkcore #soft pink #pink blog #neon aesthetic #neon #neon pink #pink #i rly memorized Billie eilish lyrics bc i thought i was so emo #i once wore all black clothing in the middle if the SWELTERING heat and carried around a black umbrella to school.#DON'T LET ME GO BACK.

8 notes · View notes

ariesbilly · 1 year

Text

There is this weird thing - even amongst billy fans - where they like need him to be super macho and aggressive all the time, and it usually manifests in sex headcanons, and it’s just like…y’all don’t know that boy at ALL. Have your preferences whatever (cuz honestly most of it comes across as people who want billy to rail them specifically lmao which go off but anyway) but let’s not pretend it’s not clear as day in canon his entire relationship to sex isn’t a well crafted performance

#and like yes ok it doesn’t need to be that deep people can just like what they like yes I know #but seeing as how he’s a fictional character I CAN make it that deep 😌#yes I have a firm stance on the top/bottom discourse 😂#but like at the end of the day that’s not what bothers me about this #it’s the refusal to let billy be soft or sensitive or needy or anything deemed ‘weak’#when we literally know he is so starved for affection and for someone to take care of him

98 notes · View notes

thatgirlwithasquid · 1 year

Text

Y’know what I love? Giving Billy hobbies, the soft ones. It makes me so warmly happy. Knitting, sewing, reading, jigsaws, sudoku, sketching, scrapbooking. I want him to be able to do it all. I want him to be able to sit down and solve or create, have some little things where he can look down at it and think “I made this” “I solved that” and it have nothing to do with the toxic masculinity Neil shoves at him.

And maybe he sometimes breaks the things he makes. Maybe he throws paint over his finished canvas, maybe he tears up his sudoku book or scratches out words in his poems; but then that makes them something new, a product of his pain, art of his suffering. Suddenly the way he feels is tangible, and messy, but its made something new — something broken like him, but still interesting and beautiful. It’s catharsis and it’s his.

#billy hargrove #i want him to be able to sit down and breathe!!!!#i love letting him break the regimented social role hes been beaten into #soft moments make me so happy with him

71 notes · View notes

nebraska-is-a-myth · 11 months

Text

“If you could wake up tomorrow anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

They're in Steve's bed, Billy's belongings scattered through his room and the rest of his house marking his place in Steve's life. Steve wonders if they’ll keep his sheets when they move into a place of their own.

“California.” Steve says without much thought.

Billy smiles something wicked, reaching up to Steve's face to move a stray hair out of his eyes. “I've corrupted you that much have I?”

Steve catches Billy's hand in his own and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I don't know, you just always talk of it so fondly. I wanna experience it myself, see what all the fuss is about.”

Billy looks up at the ceiling with a smile, Steve can see how he’s deciding whether to say the thought that's come to him. He thinks it’s his eyebrows that give him away, or maybe Steve's just spent too long admiring his boyfriend to notice.

“I dream of it sometimes, just jumping in the car and never looking back.”

“You planning on running off on me Hargrove?”

“Driving off into the sunset sounds much more romantic than running away don't you think? Nothing but Me, you, Max and the open road.”

Steve can picture it in his head, Billy in the driver's seat, Max squished in the back next to boxes full of their stuff complaining about Steve hogging the front seat. They’re laughing, wind flowing through the windows because the Camaro's air con has never worked and the Utah heat is too much for Steve. They’re happy, free, Steve can't wait.

“I think it’s sweet that you want to take me back home with you.”

“I'm sweet? You're the one who picks Cali out of everywhere in the world just because I like it, talk about obsessed Stevie”

“You're my favourite drug baby, just can't get enough.”

“Do not quote Depeche mode to me Harrington.”

“Shut up, you like it.”

Steve captures Billy's lips in a soft kiss. It doesn't turn into anything more, they're just kissing for the sake of kissing, Steve’s never had someone kiss him without wanting something more from him before. Billy does it all the time and it makes Steve's heart melt, they’ll pass kisses like they used to pass notes in history class. Every tug on Steve's lip written like an I love you scratched into his notebook. When they part, Steve swears he can taste the ink.

“Where are you waking up west coast?”

“Wherever you are Stevie.”

Steve smiles, “Even if it’s Hawkins?”

“Even Hawkins can't keep me from you pretty boy.”

“Despite everything?”

Billy takes Steve's hand in his and clutches tightly. Steve thinks of how unhappy Billy looked when he first rolled into Hawkins, how on guard he was, kitted in denim and full of rage. It's a far cry from the billy he knows now, the one who spends mornings kissing Steve senseless, who makes him mixtapes and writes notes in his lunches, who cries at Terms of Endearment and reads him books on quiet nights. Billy might not be perfect, he’s still an asshole most of the time and fucked up in more ways than one, but he’s no longer the feral animal Neil Hargrove kept in a cage.

It’s a fair question, despite everything, would Billy stay for Steve?

“No Steve, in spite of everything.”

They bury him a week later.

#something from a fic im working on #sorry not sorry #I love Steves nickname for billy being 'West coast'#theyre so soft #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #stranger things #nebraska speaks #let me know if you want more of this

22 notes · View notes

psychdelia · 2 years

Text

feeling dramatic and thinking about post s3/s4 billy joining the party, specifically steve, robin, eddie, and nancy. he’s quieter now, a little paler, hair longer and chubbier (because i said so >>:)))

but the main difference is how he wears his heart on his sleeve now. has no energy for the anger that used to constantly simmer under his skin. he cries a lot more now, it’s the easiest and only release he can handle. the first time he cried in front of everyone was when he and max reunited, leaning heavily and sobbing into her shoulder, choking out apologies. the second time is when eddie tells them what happened to chrissy because this can’t be happening again and he’s terrified of the monsters that lie below hawkins, terrified to become their next victim again.

thinking about the way he watches steve and nancy, longing and yearning. wishing it was him who was able to talk to steve, laugh with him, touch him. even just be close to him. his expressions give away everything on his mind, and if they didn’t then his eyes wet with unshed tears surely does.

the third time he cries in front of them is when eddie and robin catch onto the way he looks at nancy and steve. at first they thought it was because he liked nancy, which billy stupidly snorted at. once they figured out it was actually steve, his heart dropped and he had to beg them through tears to not say anything. to just drop it and not tell anyone. because even though neil had fucked off when he was still dead to the world, he was still terrified. didn’t want people in hawkins to find out the new zombie boy raised from the dead was also a raging queer with a fat crush on the same guy he beat up years ago.

the fourth time is after steve got dragged back down into lover’s lake, billy being the first one to stupidly jump in after him. he barely reaches steve on time, practically straddling the guy as he rips the monsters on his torso away from him, out of him. when steve’s up and manages to slam and rip apart the one that had been choking him, billy breaks down into sobs. he’s overwhelmed and tired and his adrenaline is dropping just as fast as it came. he’s leaning heavily against steve, legs wobbly like jello as he cries into the guy’s bare chest, gripping at his shoulders so tight. even through his own pain steve comforts him, tells him he’s okay. they’re both okay. billy just cries harder, shoulders shaking as he shakes his head. he can’t handle losing anyone anymore, especially not steve.

robin and eddie awkwardly stare at the ground, looking anywhere but at steve who gives them confused looks as he cradles billy, not understanding why this is what sent billy into a meltdown. he always thought the guy still wasn’t too fond of him.

nancy, though. nancy’s not stupid or blind. she would catch billy’s longing looks, the way his eyes would drop the second nancy looked back when she felt him staring. she caught the way he would always be watching steve, eyes far too soft for them being just friends. it’s her turn to watch them now, frowning with her lips pursed as she connects the dots. steve seems to sense everyone knows something he doesn’t, but with an armful of crying billy hargrove in the upside down, he decides it’s best to wait to ask any questions.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #i am being so utterly dramatic #if anyone sees this #please drop anything into my inbox #the harringrove brain rot is so real right now #i would love s4 headcanons <<33 #i cannot get them out of my mind #especially billy just yearning as he watches stancy #wishing it was him instead of her #soft crier billy is my weakness sry if this is ooc LOL #let this boy cry in peace #crybaby billiam rights #and clueless steve????#chefs kiss

378 notes · View notes

hanniballover67 · 10 months

Text

Jealous Johnny!

To be the woman he met in the bar that night and fucked her hard for hours to get rid of that tension! He’d probably call me Carmen as he came and I honestly wouldn’t care!

#william zabka #billy zabka #Billy Zabka snarl!!#Johnny lawrence #jealous Johnny lawrence #use me to fuck out your jealousy #all of my holes are available #Johnny lawrence worship #Billy Zabka worship #William Zabka worship #let me bite hang soft tummy #let me suck that aging neck!

12 notes · View notes

phantombeesting · 2 years

Text

When Billy and Steve are getting married neither wants to keep their surname. They don’t want the names handed down by their fathers and the hateful painful images they hold for the both of them to taint what they’ve built together. They’re curled up on their sofa one night, Billy with his head in Steves lap leaning into Steves soft touches as he absentmindedly twists Billy’s curls around his fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about our surname”

“Billy I love you and I agree it’d be cool but we can’t use Solo. It’s got to be some kind of trademarked thing..”

“No! I still stand by that suggestion by the way, but no I was erm thinking why not … you know use my Mom’s name?”

So that’s what they do they choose the name that reminds them of love and family. The kids paint it on a mailbox for them as a wedding gift and Billy keeps the first piece of mail they receive with it on (It’s a spam marketing leaflet but he doesn’t care it’s one of his favourite things now).

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #found family #stranger things headcanons #stranger things #just let me picture them happy #billy is a sap #soft bois

89 notes · View notes

cavinginhisfvce · 2 years

Text

It's always so funny to me when people say Billy wouldn't be extremely dramatic over literally any scenario. They always assume he'd be stoic and disinterested, but I disagree.

Like, c'mon, have y'all seen this man? He screams Drama Queen, will bite if too excited!!

Steve would tell Billy they couldn't hangout that day because his parents need help around the house, and Billy just absolutely starts bawling his eyes out. He's not particularly hurt, he knows that Steve would rather spend the day with him, but the thought of not seeing Steve for 24 hours has Billy's bottom lip wobbling. Steve would panic, immediately throwing out suggestions to the boy, asking if he'd like to come over and help out? His parents adore Billy, because what sane person didn't fall in love with his stormy blue eyes, and sweet smiles? Billy worked so hard to be able to wear that smile, and gods, was it the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

Billy would immediately stop crying at the offer, his eyes lighting up as he scrambles to crawl into Steve's lap, "do you think your mom will let me fix that fucking lamp now?" At that, Steve let out a laugh. It had been a recurring argument between his mother and boyfriend.

One morning Billy had been over, as he always was, he was making him and Steve breakfast when the front door slammed shut, the noise muffled by the various sounds of him cooking and soft music filtering out the speaker on the counter.

He hadn't heard the Harringtons come in, and had only been privy to their presence when Mr. Harrington let out a rather high pitch scream, Billy following suit with a loud shout of his own, but unlike him, Mr. Harrington had flung himself out the room, promptly running into one of Mrs. Harrington's favorite lamps, a lamp she hadn't been able to find in years.

All the yelling had Steve barreling down the stairs and skidding to a halt, "Billy, why are you yelling now?!" Billy for his part let out an indignant gasp, the spatula clutched in his hand waving wildly in the direction of Steve's mother. Because how dare he assume Billy was yelling without real reason.

He hadn't seen her, in all honesty. He rarely saw anyone around him if Billy happened to be there.

"Oh, hey mom! Where's dad?" At that question, a very guilty looking Richard Harrington took his place beside Elena, the lamp in his hands cracked down the middle, with it's wires exposed.

To say that had been an interesting meeting for Billy and Steve's parents, would be an understatement.

Since that day, Billy has tried to get Elena to let him fix it, but she was stubborn and insists she can fix the lamp on her own.

Billy knew he was was free to be emotional with Steve, he never judged him when he got worked up over virtually nothing. If Billy quite literally cried over spilled milk, Steve would scoop him into his arms and coo softly before offering to clean up the mess.

Steve has caught Billy full on sobbing while watching sad movies, I'm talking snot dripping out his nose, chest heaving as the characters he was rooting for met an untimely demise.

Steve still remembers the first time Billy dissolved into tears in front of him, it was after their third date and Steve had called Billy his Tiny Baby upon seeing the boy almost swimming in his borrowed hoodie. Obviously, Steve panicked, immediately apologizing for having upset Billy before the boy was clinging to him and sobbing into his chest.

When his tears ran dry, Billy assured Steve that he was just overwhelmed by the name, but it wasn't a bad overwhelmed. It filled him with a warmth, he hadn't known since the day his mother turned tail and never returned.

He hadn't known what the warmth meant, but over time he learned it was a good feeling. One he would always lean into so long as Steve was there to hold him up.

Soon enough, Steve was being bombarded with a different, softer side to his boyfriend. Each time Billy cried with no shame in front of Steve, or he giggled over some mundane thing, Steve knew another wall had been knocked down and he was that much closer to knowing Billy on a level nobody had never been allowed before.

#billy antis dni #billy hargrove #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove protection squad #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove is a cry baby #soft billy hargrove #billy hargrove is really sensitive #let billy cry #Billy Bee the cry baby <3 #idk what this is #it spiraled tbh #should i elaborate on this #billy and mr harrington are both dramatic #i wonder where steve gets his taste in men from #elena: you were supposed to marry a normal boy #not ur father #cue billy dissolving into tears bc she implied him and steve will get married

114 notes · View notes

robthegoodfellow · 2 years

Text

Billy and Steve get into an argument about Billy’s behavior—he baited Jason Carver until Carver punched him in the face—and Billy has the shattering realization that he’s been zeroing in on Carver in particular because he reminds Billy of Neil—just like how so many of his destructive behaviors are all about Neil. Sensing he’s about to spiral and not wanting to lash out further at Steve, he tries to leave.

“I just—don’t want you getting hurt,” Harrington insisted.

“Noted. Roger that,” he said, bitingly, and Harrington glared, losing patience. Billy tried to press Pause. Didn’t know why he was being so—“Sorry.” He breathed in. Out. “I should go. M’all screwy—I don’t wanna be a dick. I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to—” Harrington looked gutted, and Billy couldn’t stand that, rounded the counter before he knew it. Insinuated himself between long legs, wrapped himself around Harrington’s torso and got an affirming squeeze in return. “Don’t care if you’re being a dick,” Harrington mumbled.

“I care,” Billy said, and stalled out there. He’d been on such a good stretch for a while—hadn’t felt like this in… weeks? This riotous inner mess pulling him in different directions, thrumming in that panicky, aimless way that demanded some kind of release, that sometimes ended in explosions if he couldn’t redirect it. Numb it. Drown it.

It wasn’t altogether unprecedented, periods of relative peace. Of even-keeled almost-normalcy. For one thing, Neil always lay off a bit during basketball season—the one time of year when he deemed Billy marginally less of a fuckup—so there was less to rock the emotional boat, those months. And it helped to have a Neil-approved reason to be out of the house a lot. So yeah—nothing had really sent him spiraling.

But now it was back: that roiling mass just below the surface—a subconscious disturbance that was liable to boil over at a moment’s notice, and he didn’t want to accidentally burn anyone if it did, least of all Harrington. It was partly the fight with Carver, and his mixed-up feelings about it, partly the crummy resentment that came with uncovering the roots of yet another warped behavior and finding they sprouted directly from Neil. Like Billy was a dumb puppet laboring under the delusion that he was a real boy, when really every jerk of his rotten strings was dear old dad.

Huge, heaving sigh, so big Billy could feel the lungs expand and contract within his hold. Harrington tipped his head back, and Billy obligingly dipped down for a kiss, tried to convey through the gentle press of lips that they were okay—but he couldn’t quite repress a fine tremor.

“I care,” he said again, drawing back, trying to step away. Big warm hands framed his face, and he stilled, looked up to find Harrington evaluating him closely.

“By ‘screwy,’ do you mean like that day we did this?” His pinky brushed the hoop in Billy’s right earlobe. “Because I gave you my number for reason.” A small, stern smile. “Remember?”

Billy did. It was the fourth phone number he’d ever memorized—after his home phone, his grandparents’ place, and Cherry Lane. He’d mentally placed the Harrington landline in the empty category that had once belonged to Carlsbad: In Case of Emergency. He nodded in answer to both questions.

“So,” Harrington said, leading. His thumbs stroked Billy’s cheeks, under his eyes. “Don’t go. Tell me what you—need.”

Everything went tight: Billy’s throat, his lungs, every muscle. Tight and trembling. “I don’t know,” he whispered through gritted teeth. The tingle behind his nose heralded tears. “I can’t—”

It was all a jumble. Knew he’d half intended to go home and instigate something: deliberately wake the monster, walk into Neil’s backhand, maybe add some symmetry to the bruise already blooming. You know, seize some punishment now rather than wait who knows how long for the consequences of his actions. But there was a competing impulse to stay as far away from his puppet-master as possible—to give himself over to some other force, whether human or substance, because… was being in control even an option when so much of what Billy did was a reaction to… him? And so—wouldn’t it be better… to pick who or what was pulling his strings? To at least have that reprieve?

“Can’t—couldn’t you?” Billy asked, breathy and begging, resting more of his weight in Harrington’s hands. “Tell me? What I need? What to do?”

Somehow, Harrington didn’t look confused by that—just considering, cautious. Probably helped that he already knew Billy sometimes liked being ordered around during sex, but that had only ever been little commands here and there, a cheeky means of teasing more than anything. Not quite—as all-encompassing as this.

Harrington slowly pushed back on him until he was standing upright, let his hands fall to Billy’s jittery shoulders.

“You’ll tell me if you don’t like something,” Harrington said. It wasn’t a question, but Billy nodded anyway. “Okay.”

Already Billy was buzzing in anticipation—primed to drop to his knees, or strip and bend over. Whatever mind-wiping method was on offer, he’d take it.

Harrington was chewing on his lip, lost in thought. Then he took Billy’s hand, guided him back so he could stand up. Didn’t lace their fingers together like usual, but sort of—grabbed his palm. Held it between them.

“Come on,” he said. Then, in the tone of someone testing a theory: “Past your bedtime, baby.”

Oh. Billy’s eyes went glassy as everything froze. He thought they were gonna—fuck. Not—whatever this was.

“Okay?” Harrington checked.

Billy cleared his throat, blinked till his brain rebooted. “Yeah,” he managed.

Before leading him by the hand out of the kitchen, Harrington asked if he needed anything—Was he hungry? Thirsty? Billy stared, blank, still finding his footing.

“My head,” he said, at last. “Hurts.”

They went to the medicine cabinet. He downed some Advil with the water Harrington gave him in a little Dixie cup.

Harrington kept firm hold of his hand up the stairs, and every step was a toss-up on whether Billy was gonna laugh or cry. His insides had gone fuzzy—staticky and soft. Then he was in the hallway bathroom brushing his teeth because Harrington had told him to, because Harrington would be back soon to check. Unbidden, he’d been silently running through the ABC song—keep brushing till you get to Z, Billy Bear.

He spit, wiped his mouth on a damp washcloth, his burning eyes.

Harrington smiled when he returned, murmured, “Good job,” and herded him down the hall, toward the door at the end, while good job, good job ran on a loop in Billy’s ears. Beyond the door lay a dim cavernous space—the master bedroom. The light from the hallway and the roaring en suite illuminated a massive four poster bed, gleaming dark wood bureau and wardrobe, a chaise lounge by the window…

Not allowed, he thought, nonsensically. Not allowed to be here.

Steam billowed from the adjoining bathroom, the hard surfaces resounding with the thunderous deluge of multiple taps, and the sound shot him back to—god, when he was… eight? Had it been almost ten years since he’d had a bath?

Since someone had given him a bath? Since his mother had?

He stopped a few feet from the threshold, suddenly unsure whether he wanted to…

Harrington came around to his front, ran reassuring hands up and down slack arms.

“All right?” he asked.

Billy followed the arcs of steam curling as they touched the chilly dark. “Are we not gonna…?”

“I wanna take care of you,” said Harrington. On the upsweep, he continued onward, linked his fingers behind Billy’s neck. “Let me.”

“Like this?” Because why would he—want to?

“Like this,” he confirmed. His eyes were warm—dark and steady and sure.

Billy nodded, and Harrington drew him into the golden glow, closed the door behind them. The air was humid, sticky—and between one blink and the next, the lights had softened, only the fixture over the sinks left on.

There was a shower stall to his left, but it was silent and still—all the noise and vapor poured from the opposite corner, where a shining jacuzzi set into this white marble platform was filling up under the onslaught of a pair of ornate faucets.

Harrington helped him get undressed, even knelt to peel off his socks. Billy snuck a glance at the vanity, beheld himself standing there—his broad shoulders, the cut of his pecs, his dick hanging limp from a tawny thatch of pubes.

Lifted his foot, and his foot was bare. Put it down on cold tile.

The definition of his abs, the curve of his biceps, the purple ringing round a socket the way it had so many times before. Then the image split and split and split—the compounding eye view of a bug—and he remembered, in his mother’s voice, the cadence she’d had when reading aloud:

I am still every age that I have been. Because I was once a child, I am always a child… to forget is a form of suicide.

Lifted his foot, and his foot was bare. Put it down on cold tile.

What book had it been? She was at the kitchen table while he stirred the soup. Had paused, looked at him, read it again. Don’t forget that, she’d said. Don’t forget that, Bear.

When Harrington stood, Billy’s face was wet.

He’d forgotten it. And usually his memory was so good. Too good.

“Ready?” Harrington asked, holding out his hand.

Billy sniffed, took it in that childlike grasp from before.

Heeded words of warning as he stepped, awkward, into the water, as he lowered himself into the bubbling currents of the jets. The heat enveloped him, touched every part with liquid sun, and he let out a long unwinding breath. His ass touched the smooth bottom, and Harrington gestured him toward the built-in headrest, where a jet waited to pummel every knot out of his lower back. Billy groaned, heard a chuckle.

“Good, huh?” Harrington crouched by the lip, testing the water.

Billy wiped a hand down his face, rinsing the salt tracks from his cheeks. “Been holding out on me, Harrington.” Eyed him under heavy lids, drowsy in the lulling warmth. “Really not gonna join me?”

The responding smile was so soft that Billy fought not to look away—managed not to blink until Harrington turned his attention to the taps, shutting them off, plunging them into an abrupt, echoing quiet.

“No,” he said, pushing up off of the marble to stand. “Isn’t about that. Just relax.”

Billy sighed, closing his eyes. He heard the thump and creak of cabinet doors, the thunk of items deposited by his head, but he was too droopy all over to investigate—totally al dente. So remote that he sensed Harrington nearby as though through a fog. A palm rested on his brow, smoothed the hair off his forehead.

“Still awake, baby?”

Billy swallowed—wondered why baby was different than babe, why it stung but made him wanna lean into it all the same. He nodded.

“Can you sit up?” At Billy’s whine, he chuckled again. “Only for a bit. C’mon.” He wedged a hand under Billy’s shoulder, and with an aggrieved grunt Billy was levered upright. The water sloshed, settled back to a simmer.

Harrington had pushed his sleeves up, perched himself on the marble ledge next to an array of… fancy-pants body wash and hair products. Considering that Billy was but a noodle, cooked tender by the buffeting current, it was no wonder that, when Harrington arched an eyebrow, it took him a couple beats to put two and two together. But when he did…

His face flushed. Like he was—too big for his skin, heart pounding loud. Harrington waited placidly until Billy nodded, then cupped his nape, told him to lay back. Billy didn’t speak, too focused on his breathing; tilted until he dipped like a ladle, the hot water exquisite, lapping his temples, his forehead, the hinge of his jaw. Shivered when he sat up and streams ran down his skin, dark tendrils plastered to his neck. Harrington gave him a sudsy washcloth then patted the side of the tub by his hip, and Billy shifted so his back was against the smooth surface.

A whisper, warm in his ear: “This okay?”

Billy filled in the rest—that I’m behind you?—and breathed out a broken laugh. “Yeah.” His only associations here were Ma. Just her.

While he scrubbed at his pits, his crotch, strong soapy fingers massaged his scalp, circling firm to work up a lather, and holy fuck, he did not recall it feeling this good as a kid. Damn near divine. Like, so good his dick was taking an interest—until, that is, he noticed some familiar movements up there… distinctly sculpting.

“Are you giving me a mohawk?”

“Maybe.”

Billy turned to level a joking glare at his tormenter, and Harrington let out a giggle.

“Looks good on you,” he said, then leaned over to fill up a plastic cup with fresh water from the faucet. “Tip your head back, baby.”

Billy did, eyes slipping shut, and didn’t mind at all when it took a couple cascades of water—so hot, but not too hot—to wash it out. Pretended it was cleansing him of more than just soap suds.

Harrington offered conditioner, and Billy’s eager nod made him laugh.

When at last Harrington got up to put the supplies away, Billy unfolded, reacquainting himself with the best jet by the headrest, and thought he’d never felt so… pristine. Weightless. A weird buoyancy in the chest rather than floaty in the brain, as when Harrington mind-wiped him the usual way. Like… out, damned spot. And it was out.

Drifting as he was, it took him a moment to realize Harrington had sat on the tile floor, right where Billy had draped an arm… and how could he resist? Harrington hummed when sluggish fingers sank into his hair, craned for better access, and even this spacey, Billy knew what that meant—gathered a fist of brown locks and lightly squeezed. Not enough to hurt, but enough to feel the pull.

“How’d you know?” Billy asked, quiet over the bubbling jets. “To do all this?”

Harrington’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Gloria,” he said. “Nanny number two. Had this whole—bedtime routine. Brush, bath, story. It was the best.”

After a pause, hoping he’d keep going, Billy prodded. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harrington snorted. “She would sing, tuck me in the right way… They let her go when I was—six, maybe? Seven? And nanny number three said I was old enough for showers, so…” He shrugged.

Billy combed his fingers through silky strands, a slow sweeping arc. “No more songs? Stories?”

“She made me brush my teeth, still.”

God, that tone. It was a Harrington specialty—this jaunty, blithe bitterness—and it stabbed Billy every time.

“Babe,” he said, tugging, and when that didn’t work: “Baby.”

“You’re baby,” Harrington said, finally looking over his shoulder. Billy tugged again, and Harrington sighed, shifted into a kneeling crouch, his arms crossed on the ledge. Billy curled forward, mirroring him.

“We can both be,” he said. “You think I don’t wanna take care you, too?”

Harrington’s mouth twitched, side to side, gaze glued to the seam between fiberglass and marble.

And that… that silence was deafening—so damning that something sprang loose, and Billy was murmuring hey, reaching to tip Harrington’s chin, coax his eyes up. They shone, glimmering in the half light. And Billy saw him, in there—the child inside.

“I—” Billy choked on a painful lump. Took a beat to gulp it down. “I do. Course I do.”

Harrington didn’t say anything—couldn’t. Billy watched nostrils flare, his throat seize, the sheen pool at his lashes. Remembered that night when Harrington told him he could cry if he needed to.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You can… tell me.”

It wasn’t like Billy, the way Harrington caved in. He smiled, for one thing—this ghastly crooked baring of teeth—and a few tears spilled over rictus cheeks. Just a few before he ran dry. Gasped a punctured laugh.

“Christ, I used to…” Shook his head, unfocused—a million miles off. “I used to do the routine with my bear. After she left. I’d help him brush his teeth and pretend to give him a bath in the sink and I’d read to him but I couldn’t really read so I’d just make stuff up based on the pictures…”

Billy blinked away his own prickle of tears and quirked trembling lips. “That explains it, then—why you were so good at this. You had practice.”

Harrington chuckled wetly, propped his head on his hand. “Guess so.”

He was trying—Billy was trying so hard not to picture it… a little kid with a brown mop of hair, tucking his teddy into bed, play-acting what he wanted for himself but wasn’t getting anymore.

A phantom kiss on his forehead, a sense memory from way deep in the archives, and before he knew it, he’d leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harrington’s brow—clumsy, catching half skin and half hair.

He sank back down in the water, chin pillowed on his wrist, and when their eyes locked, something had—shifted. Thought about how they weren’t each other’s everything but were… some things.

Things they hadn’t been able to name.

“I’ll be your baby,” he said. “And you’ll be mine?”

The slope of Harrington’s shoulder rose and fell, the heave of release—relief. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. He nodded.

full chapter

#swear i’m a total dick in real life #dunno where all this soft angsty stuff is coming from #my unresolved childhood trauma???#anyway #billy sometimes likes being told what to do #in a sexy way #this is not that #this is being told what to do #in a let me give you the TLC you haven’t had in too long ya big baby #kinda way #dunno how to tag this #mild d/s?#like the mildest of mild salsa #no heat all sweet #harringrove #preview snippet #spin me right round

64 notes · View notes