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multi-fandomfuckboy · 4 months

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 26: Attitude

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 26, Part 27 (Coming Soon)...

AN: Wow, twice in one week. Wild. Hope you guys like it!! Let me know what you think! Word Count: 3,090 Warnings: none

You relish the feeling of the asphalt under your shoes. Lengthening your stride, feeling the pull of your muscles, you set a steady pace. You barely notice the cold after a mile. In a way it’s almost comforting, the frozen air pressing around you biting at your exposed skin, almost like a kiss. The night is dark and peaceful, most people are already asleep at this hour. It swallows you whole, hiding all the parts of yourself you’ve been trying to ignore.

You know you should hate it. After seeing all the evil things that can hide in the dark, you should be terrified. But you’re not. A familiar shiver traces down your spine, like the darkness around you recognizes the darkness in you. A part of it will always live inside you, etched into your very skin, down to the bone. You can feel it with you now. The tingling sensation prickling around your scars, twisting down your back, it’s always there, but in the cold night air its caress feels like an old friend.

You fall into it, the feeling allowing you to drift in and out of thought. The inky blackness pouring into you, filling the space in your mind where confusing and complicated thoughts once dwelled. Thoughts about Billy, about Steve, and Nancy, Jonathan, your mom, Hopper… all those loud thoughts smothered by the blanket of darkness. It’s peaceful here, in this place of no feeling. It would be easy to stay… It always was.

You don’t know how long you walk, instinctively making your way down the street. Your stride is suddenly interrupted when part of your shoe becomes detached, flopping against your heel as you shuffle to a halt. Shaking yourself out of whatever fog you had fallen into, you lean down to inspect your sneaker. You can see in the dark that the back part of the sole on your right shoe has finally given up. The piece of rubber dangles loosely from the rest of the shoe. Prodding the damage gently you’re hardly surprised when another inch peels away from the main shoe.

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, trying to press the rubber back into place hoping that maybe it will magically adhere long enough for you to make it home. A light flashes from behind you on the road, the sound of an engine disrupting the silence of the night. In the headlights you are able to see just how distressed your shoe is, illuminating the irreparable damage.

Straightening up, you turn slightly to assess the oncoming car. Its headlights blind you for a moment, you lift your hand to shield your eyes as the car comes closer. You can tell it’s slowing down as it approaches you. Your heart beats a little faster, you try to tell yourself it’s probably nothing, just a concerned Hawkins resident out for a drive… in the middle of the night. You take a step back, off the road, your muscles tensing in preparation, keeping your arm loose at your side, knowing that it will take you 2 seconds to get the knife from your ankle.

The car comes to a stop beside you, the drivers’ window already lowered. You can’t see into the car, your eyes struggling to readjust.

“Didn’t you learn your lesson last time you almost froze to death?” The driver says. Of course. As your eyes focus you can make out Billy’s sharp features, his white teeth flashing as he grins up at you. You can’t stop the upward tilt of your own lips, your stomach twisting at the familiarity of the situation.

“What can I say? My tutor says I’m a slow learner.” You say with a shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes.

“Sounds like a smart guy.” He replies with a smirk. Before you can reply he cuts you off. “If you keep standing there giving me attitude your fingers are going to freeze. Get in the car before I have to drag your ass to the hospital.” You open your mouth to refuse but as you shift your feet you feel the sole of your shoe slide, reminding you of your current predicament. Another mile and you’ll be hopping on one foot.

“Fine.” You agree. If it were another day you would laugh at the surprised look on Billy’s face. In all the times he’s offered to give you a ride, this is one of the first times you’ve actually accepted. “But only because I think my foot would actually get frostbite if I don’t, and I don’t feel like getting a lecture from my mom if I get taken to the hospital.” You explain, walking around the car, limping with the awkward flop of your sole with each step.

Billy reaches over the seat to unlock your door before you get to it, rolling up his window as you climb in. The heat from inside the car washes over you, drawing your attention to how cold your limbs had grown. You hadn’t even noticed. Sliding into the passenger seat, you close your door and buckle your seatbelt.

“Why are you limping?” Billy asks, his eyes searching over you in the dim light of the car before reaching above him to flick on the interior lights. He looks you over from head to toe, searching for any sign of injury. You prop your foot up on your knee, allowing the light to shine down on your busted sneaker.

“Looks like they just finally gave up.” You comment, flicking the dangling piece of rubber. Billy’s expression relaxes slightly, seeing that it’s just your shoe falling apart, not you.

“What are you doing walking out here anyway?” He asks, flicking off the light. “I thought you left with Harrington.” He says, turning away from you to face the road, putting the car into gear. You can see his shoulders tense, despite how calm his voice sounds, the muscle in his jaw fluttering.

“I just drove him home.” You tell him, watching his expression carefully from the corner of your eye as you lean forward pretending to look at your shoe. You wonder why he would be so curious. You know he had seen you leave with Steve so why was he… Suddenly something occurs to you.

“What are You doing here?” You ask pointedly. You hear his hands tightening around the wheel, his gaze locked forward, again that muscle in his jaw ticks.

“I was just in the area.” He says, attempting to keep his tone casual. You know he’s lying. It’s getting too easy to read him these days.

“I saw you at Tinas’.” You tell him. His eyes flicker to you briefly before returning to the road.

“I saw you too.” He says, his voice suddenly hard. Your stomach drops uncomfortably and you look back to your foot. You aren’t sure why you feel like you’ve done something wrong. You grit your teeth together in irritation. You did absolutely nothing wrong. You were just hanging out with Steve, Billy was the one with some girl hanging all over him.

“I thought you would have wanted to stay at the party. You looked pretty… occupied.” You try to keep your voice indifferent but a slight bitterness tinges the edges despite your efforts. You hate the jealous feelings swirling in your gut. You have no claim to Billy. The two of you hardly tolerate each other.

Still, you find it hard to ignore the fact that there is something volatile between you, something wild, almost dangerous. You’ve been trying to stamp out the ember between the two of you since you met, somehow it keeps flickering back to life fanning itself into a flame the closer the two of you get.

“Yea, if I was desperate and bored enough I might have considered it.” Billy says, immediately catching what you're alluding to. Who you’re alluding to. “Girls like that are only fun for a minute, they tend to get a bit clingy if you give them a taste.” He goes on, shooting you a devilish smirk, explaining it to you like it’s the most simple thing in the world. Your face burns at the implication of his words.

“oh.” Is all you can manage, toying with your shoelace hoping the dim lighting hides your undoubtedly flushed cheeks. Billy chuckles lightly, seemingly amused by your lack of response. You should be used to this, he’s always saying things to fluster you, he must get a kick out of it or something. He clears his throat after a beat, keeping his eyes ahead.

“I thought you would have wanted to stay at Harringtons’, sure he wouldn’t have minded.” His tone sounds shockingly similar to how yours had, going for casual but a bitter undertone slipping through. The meaning behind his words is not lost on you.

“We’re friends.” You say, reflexively defensive. Billy scoffs.

“Right.” He says, shaking his head. It’s clear he doesn’t believe you. You cut your eyes to him in a narrowed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, letting your irritation bleed through. Billy seems unaffected, his shoulders shaking slightly with a humorless laugh.

“Come on, Loca. I know you’re crazy but I didn’t know you were blind too.” He says, his smirk taking on the wolfish aspect you associate with his cruelty. “He hangs around you like a love-sick puppy! He can’t go two seconds without touching you. You’re really going to try and tell me you’re ‘just friends’?” He asks, lifting a brow in disbelief. Your face flushes with anger replacing any sort of embarrassment you would feel at Billy’s description of yours and Steves’ relationship.

“Steve is going through a lot right now.” You respond tensely, meeting his eyes evenly. He turns his eyes back to the road, another dry laugh escaping him, causing you to grit your teeth harder.

“Oh right! I forgot who I was talking to. The saint of Hawkins High, trying to save poor Stevie boy from his broken heart.” Your anger flares in your chest, pulsing against your ribs. Billy didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. He didn’t know Steve, he didn’t know what the two of you had been through together. How much death and darkness you had helped each other through. You would be DEAD without Steve Harrington.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You hiss, struggling to keep your hands from shaking in anger, curling them into fists in your lap. Billy doesn’t miss this, he keeps pushing.

“Trust me, the broken heart routine only lasts until he gets what he wants form you loca.” He tells you harshly. You scoff at that.

“Oh and you’re an expert, right? Had a lot of practice?” You spit back. You think you see hurt flash across his face but only for a moment and he’s back to himself.

“I may not be an expert but I’ve definitely been around the block a few times.” He tells you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as they pull back from his teeth in a knowing grin. “Which is more than you can say if your reaction this afternoon is anything to go off of.” You gap at him, your anger coming to a screeching halt as you try to think of a response.

“I- That- That’s none of your business.” You blurt out. Billy laughs again.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed loca, we all have to start somewhere.” He coos, giving you a look of fake sympathy. “I’m just surprised you’ve made it this long with how Harrington seems to be pawing at you.” You know he’s trying to hurt you. You’re not sure why, but he couldn’t be further from the truth.

“I told you it’s not like that.” You insist, pressing yourself further into your seat, turning your body away from him to face the window. You watch the dark shapes blur past, melting together.

“What’s it like then?” He asks. You know he doesn’t expect a response. Anyone else would have nothing to say to that. But there is a small part of you that needs him to understand. You’re not sure why, but you tell him the truth. Or at least part of it.

“Steve was there when I was attacked last year.” You say calmly. It’s like all the air is sucked out of the car. Billy says nothing. You can feel his eyes on the back of your shoulder, where he knows the top of your scars starts. He’s seen them, he knows how the skin is puckered, still angry and raised along the flesh of your back, you know he’s picturing them. “He’s the one who drove me to the hospital, thinking I was dead. He held my hand when I was in a coma, visited me as much as he could when I woke up, brought me homework, kept me company even when I thought I didn’t want it.” You speak without emotion. These are all facts. It’s who Steve was even before he became one of your closest friends. “He’s been a good friend to me. An amazing friend.” You let yourself smile gently at the thought. “I intend to be the same for him.”

The car gently comes to a stop in front of your house. You turn back to Billy. He’s not smiling now, any trace of the cocky Billy that was teasing you moments ago is gone. Instead he keeps his eyes straight ahead, his knuckle white where they grip the wheel. He is eerily still, his tense shoulders barely rising with each breath. There is a beat of silence. It feels like you’re balancing on a tightrope, one wrong move and Billy will snap.

“Thanks for the ride.” You nearly whisper, unbuckling your seatbelt. You reach to open your door, Billys’ hand on your arm stops you. You turn back to meet his gaze in the dim light of the car, he looks almost angry, his eyes intense as he focuses on your face. You steel your nerves, preparing for whatever hurtful comment he has ready.

“I didn’t know.” He says softly. The contrast between the hard edges of his expression and the gentleness of his tone is extreme. You realize then that the anger in him is for himself. You soften, knowing this is the closest to an apology Billy can give you.

“It’s okay. You know now.” You tell him. His expression only tightens, his hand gentle on your arm tenses slightly. Leaning back you take his hand from your arm, holding it in your lap as you turn towards him fully. “It’s okay Billy. I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad.” You explain, hoping he can see the honesty in your eyes. He searches your face, his expression loosening a bit.

“Why did you tell me?” He asks, keeping his voice low. You hesitate.

Why did you tell him? Your thumb grazes over the knuckles of his hand, feeling the raised bumps of the scars there. Sometimes you forget that he has scars too, each one with their own story.

“Because I wanted you to know.” Is the only explanation you can offer. You’ve felt a connection to Billy from the moment he almost hit you with his car. Somewhere along the way between nearly dying again and living with the mess your life has become, you’ve found yourself drawn closer and closer to this angry boy. You want to tell him the truth, to offer him a part of you so few have access to. There is no explanation for it but you want to know Billy and you want him to know you too.

It must be enough for him because after searching your face a moment longer, his shoulders relax slightly. You fight the urge to lean closer and use your fingers to smooth out the tension in his jaw.

You know what the stubble would feel like, you felt it against your neck earlier today. Your stomach swirls at the memory. You worry that he can see the thoughts dancing through your mind with how his eyes search yours. His hand gently takes one of yours, his thumb lightly swiping over your palm sending a shiver up your arm.

“Come over tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 12.” Billy tells you. It’s not so much an invitation as a demand. Very Billy.

“And if I have plans?” You ask, living your brow in challenge. Billys’ small smirk sends warmth flooding through you.

“Cancel them.” He tells you simply. Before you can reply, Billy cuts you off by bringing your hand to his lips. His breath ghosts over your knuckles as he presses a gentle kiss to the skin. Your hand reflexively tightens in his, the words catching in your throat. Goosebumps explode across your skin and you’re sure your face is so red it’s probably glowing in the dark.

Billy’s light chuckle only adds to the heat gathering low in your stomach.

“So that’s how I get rid of the attitude.” Billy muses, watching you closely. He moves to bring your hand to his lips again, turning it slightly to press another kiss to the inside of your wrist. You can barely hear his words over the sound of blood pounding in your ears. “I would have put my mouth on you a lot sooner if I had known that.” He whispers the words against the sensitive skin of your wrist. Just when you think your heart is going to pound out of your chest, Billys’ teeth gently nip at your arm causing you to let out a small gasp. The sudden noise from you seems to break the spell he must have put on you.

You rip your arm out of his grasp, whipping around in your seat to fumble at the door knob. You nearly fall out of the car when you finally fling the door open, the cold December air sobering you up as you scramble from the vehicle. Billy laughs from the driver’s seat, causing you to glare back at him.

Your only response is to slam the passenger door and turn, striding up your driveway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, loca! 12 o’clock!” Billy yells from the window before he revs his engine so loudly you’re sure you will be getting a call from your neighbors. You roll your eyes, not bothering to watch as his taillights disappear into the night.

AN: Let me know what you guys think!

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quotespile · 4 months

Quote

A good story should make you laugh, and a moment later break your heart.

Chuck Palahniuk, Stranger than Fiction

#literature #quotes #Chuck Palahniuk #Stranger than Fiction #quote #books #lit

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lemoneyshipz · 3 months

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mood board for the stranger than fiction au fic i wanna write but don’t know where to start 😭😭

(will elaborate later)

#dream of the endless #the sandman #dreamling #morpheus #hob gadling #edit #stranger than fiction #au #au fic #lemoneyshipz

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flightofthefaeriedragon · 19 days

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Because it's a book about a man who doesn't know he's about to die and then dies. But if the man does know he's going to die and dies anyway, dies willingly, knowing he could stop it, then... I mean, isn't that the type of man you want to keep alive?

-- Stranger Than Fiction

#I'M JUST SAYING #stranger than fiction #cr spoilers #critical role #critical role spoilers #favorite movies #flights of the faerie dragon

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mediademon · 2 months

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FILMS FROM MY CHILDHOOD:

Stranger than Fiction (2006) dir. Marc Forster

#stranger than fiction #stranger than fiction 2006 #strangerthanfictionedit #will ferrell #maggie gyllenhaal #*mygifs #filmgifs #filmedit #moviegifs #movieedit #film diary #dailyflicks #fyeahmovies #ffmc #HE BOUGHT HER FLOURS!!!

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drafthorsemath · 15 days

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In the movie Stranger Than Fiction, a guy finds out he's the main character in a book being written. The author (played by Emma Thompson) doesn't know him, but turns out her plan is for him to die in the end and this guy finds out about it. Whatever she writes is what will happen to him. This guy realizes that he will die doing something good and so is okay with dying. So the author decides to not kill him in the end and just maim him a lot in the story. He wakes up in the hospital. Another character played by Dustin Hoffman, a lit professor if I remember correctly, tells her the story isn't quite as impactful that way, but this author points out that this man was willing to die helping people and isn't that someone you'd want to keep around?

Something something my feelings any time someone says that if Tech lives it decreases the impact of his sacrifice. The fact that he was willing to make it is the meaningful part.

#tbb #tech #tech lives #stranger than fiction #the bad batch

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haveyouseenthismovie-poll · 7 months

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#movies #polls #stranger than fiction #2000s movies #marc forster #will ferrell #maggie gyllenhaal #requested #have you seen this movie poll

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month

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She Wed A Victorian Ghost. Now, She's Divorcing Him Because Of His Alleged Affair With Marilyn Monroe

And, you thought your relationship was complicated.

https://thoughtnova.com/she-wed-a-victorian-ghost-now-shes-divorcing-him-because-of-his-alleged-affair-with-marilyn-monroe?

#ghosts #stranger than fiction #other stuff

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chrollohearttags · 7 months

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BEYOND FACT OR FICTION: the boy who wanted to see the ocean • armin artlert

In this world, there are two types of people born into it. Those that live and those that experience it. The average and the exceptional..to say that Armin Artlert was on the latter of both sides would be an understatement. From the day of his birth to the early years of his childhood, it was blatantly obvious that he was not like the others around him. Considered a frail and sickly child, despite growing up in more modern times with access to the best healthcare, Armin found himself confined to his room most days. Fortunately, he did come from a rather affluent background so he had all sorts of materials and resources at his disposal to keep him occupied. He didn’t feel he was ever missing out on much because the rare times that he was able to even attend school, he was bullied by his peers. So he felt much more comfortable and safer in the essence of his own company. Especially since he had become rather infatuated with one topic in particular: the ocean. Next to the hospital where he often found himself a resident was a beach with the most crystalline of waters flowing over bright, beige sands. Palm trees swaying in the distance and resembling that of a screensaver, it was so perfect. It was a beautiful scene and one he had come to admire. To say the least! Some would even say that Armin was enamored..obsessed even. So much so, he dedicated his entire life to researching and learning all he could about aquatic life.

he was utterly fascinated with all things marine life and the functions of the waters. Granted, as humans, we’ve barely scraped the surface with only a 5% discovery rate of our vast waterways. The open seas were a mystery but being the inquisitive, determined mind he was, Armin wanted to unearth all of it. He would stop at nothing until he achieved his answers. Once he graduated from high school, college was next in the docket and as everyone suspected, the overachiever sought out his degrees in marine biology..he wanted nothing more than to solve the mysteries of our world’s waterfront. He took several courses in aquatic science, marine studies and by the time his academic journey came to an end, Armin Artlert had taken on the title of doctor by earning his PhD. Needless to say, he was super successful and living his dreams.

But around late 2017, things began to shift for the young scholar..friends, family and colleagues alike began to notice a change in him. As if his devotion to work wasn’t already enough, he became completely enamored with the topic of finding the ocean’s origin point!..discovering where they originated from and was there a precise point. Absolutely absurd but nothing was out of reach for Mr. Artlert. There wasn’t a thing going to stand in the way of his research. Not the government, the academic board or even money..at all costs, he had to make it happen. He was becoming erratic, spouting ramblings and nonsense about things beyond anyone’s comprehension. Staying up all hours of the night, plastered to his computer screen and reading texts from long ago.

“Please, just front me the ten grand and I’ll pay it back with interest, you know I’m good for it.”

“Just five thousand until the end of the month and I’ll get it back, I swear. Just trust me, please..”

Empty promises never fulfilled by either end because the people around felt that this was all going too far. He was doing good work and had written many theses on his findings. He had a high rise condo, nice car and even a beautiful lady..so why wasn’t it enough? Why did he have to surpass mankind and exceed his limitations? Curiosity was one thing but toying with mother nature was another level of insanity. So as you could imagine, on the night of April 11, 2017, when his girlfriend and fellow researcher, (y/n) (l/n), came home from work to find their condo completely empty. And not just silent..COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY BARE! Stripped of all furniture, decorations and most importantly, any trace of Armin! You were completely taken aback but the worst of this mystery was yet to come. Not wanting to alert anyone, you’d call around and ask if anyone had seen or heard from him, thinking that something could have happened to him. Not only that, if someone had come and cleared this apartment out in the span of a 12 hour duration, taking him along with them, who knew what..or who else they’d come after? Frightened, you rounded up all of your mutual friends and decided to assemble a search party. Because he was now 25 and very much a legal adult with the reserved right to go missing at any time, the police gave you all the typical runaround about having to wait twenty four hours to file a police report. Even so, time was of the essence and 24 hours was something you didn’t have to waste. So once everyone came over to the condo, you’d put your heads and all of the information together to hopefully reach a consensus about where he could have gone..you’d send a group out to scour the local coffee shops and libraries he frequented, even some of his favorite stores. Hoping to find a trace of him somewhere. His ‘Find my iPhone’ feature was disabled and the phone was going straight to voicemail.

“When’s the last time you saw him, (Y/N)?” his best friend and the person who knew him best, would question. If anyone had an inkling of the mental state he was in, it was most certainly the person who had known him since they were born. “This morning, in the cafeteria at the research center..he was grabbing breakfast and heading back up to his office. We were supposed to have lunch but I had few conference calls and studies so I couldn’t make it.”

You didn’t want to leave any stone unturned..and the first clue may have appeared a lot closer than anyone thought. Just down the hallway from the master bedroom was a small guest room where Armin conducted a lot of experiments. Sometimes late into the night and early mornings..and under absolutely no circumstances, was anyone allowed in. Not even you. He’d ensure so by installing a state of the art lock that was fingerprint and rigged with a series of intricate puzzles and questions that only he knew the answer. It was brilliant. A regular padlock wouldn’t suffice because what lay behind the door was something not only baffling but downright terrifying….

You worked for hours to hack the system and get it unlocked but to no avail. You even resorted to brute force by kicking and trying to hack it open with tools but no dice.

“Damn you, Armin. This is so like you…making everything difficult and mysterious. Where the hell did you go?”

It was around one in the morning and you were exhausted, from both work, the strenuous search efforts and just the long day in general. But a bit of good news would peer through this bleak situation..it was just as you were sitting on the floor, knees to your chest and your face buried in your hands, you’d hear a loud cackle.

“Ha! Finally..we got it.”

Just then, you’d hear a faint beeping noise and watch the padlock omit a green light. Signaling that it had been hacked successfully. Courtesy of one of your other scholar colleagues who worked in IT. For a mystery like this, you guys were going to need all of the man and brain power you could get. Upon unlocking it, you’d be the first to enter and once you pushed the door open, nothing could prepare you for what was inside…

“Oh my God!” a loud shriek left your mouth, only to be cupped by your hands seconds later. You were bewildered by the sight in front of you, as was everyone else…every wall, every inch of the space was littered with writing! Equations, secret codes and countless words were everywhere. Not only that, it was dimly lit with only select areas being illuminated..but perhaps the most frightening part were the makeshift pillars. Carved from marble and constructed six feet high, it was insanely creepy. How had he managed to do this? And by himself nonetheless because no one here had a clue what Armin was up to. What you thought would lead you all closer to answers had only left you even more confused. Not even the most brilliant of minds could decipher the messages or figure out what he was into. When it came to his personal research, he was very tight lipped about it.

days, weeks and eventually months went by without an answer or trace of Armin. Not a single clue, lead or anything brought you any closer to figuring out this mystery. Once the police finally got involved, they conducted routine searches, put out BOLO’s for his Mercedes and even brought the case to the news. But all of it was a waste.

it was all a waste until the day of October 11, 2017. Six months EXACTLY to the day he first went missing. You were at work, trying to power through the day as you had been doing. You were in the middle of typing up some findings from your earlier experiment when your phone rang and saw that it was the police department. Your heart and stomach sank immediately, expecting the worst. Had they found Armin? Was he okay? What was going on?! But the only instruction you received was to come down to the hospital because they needed to speak with you. Halting all else, you snatched up your car keys and coat, making a beeline for your vehicle in the parking garage. You didn’t hang up the entire time, even as you got buckled in. Because there was something else they told you, that had you racing toward him.

“He’s alive. He desperately needs medical attention but he’s alive, miss (L/N).”

so you placed it in reverse and peeled out there like a bat from hell! You refused to hang up until you laid eyes on him and knew for certain this wasn’t a prank. Fortunately, the hospital was only ten minutes away and in no time, you were pulling into the parking lot, rushing inside to see him. You’d reach the receptionist and ask if someone by the name of Armin Artlert had been brought in and at first, she was a bit hesitant, despite you showing ID, because after all, his case had gained national media attention so people were gathering to be in the know of if he was okay or not. But suddenly, a detective in a button down would come and scoop you up, giving a quick escort to the back area where he was being treated. Once you two arrived, the detective would ask you one simple question:

“Are you certain you’re ready to see him? He looks a bit different…”

but you didn’t care! You’d love him regardless and would be happy no matter the outcome. As long as he lived.

“Armie..oh my gosh..” whispering in a shrill cry because he looked really bruised and battered. His pale arms littered with red and purple bruises, head wrapped in bandages, arms stuck with needles and IV’s and an oxygen mask on his face. He was so fragile; dropping a staggering thirty pounds since his disappearance. He was severely dehydrated, flush and so weak. You couldn’t believe the condition he was in. You were even more surprised to find that he had wandered up to the police station, disoriented and talking out of character with nothing more than a thin loin cloth type thing on. He remembered his name but didn’t know what day it was, why he disappeared or where he had come from. It was as if whoever was keeping him, had put him in pretty bad shape. When asked about what happened whilst he was gone, he froze up and even began crying…that led all of you to believe that some very powerful people had gotten ahold of him. But what followed would send you into utter shock. The detective would pull you aside and ask to speak privately. It was there that he’d inform you that they suspected that Armin had not only gone missing of his own volition but that he staged the disappearance as an attempt to either evade the government for his findings or to garner more money for his research. People tended to shell out hundreds, even thousands when someone went missing so he figured he could swipe some of the funds from the GoFundMe to fuel his projects. It didn’t matter though, because your baby was back home and that was all that mattered.

to this day, no one knows what occurred on that night and what prompted Armin’s strange disappearance. Some still speculate that it was all a ruse and a ploy to get money. Others think that his research went entirely too far and landed him in hot water with the wrong people. But what do you think?

is there truth to this tale of the seas or a watered down lie?

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everyfandomeverywhereallatonce · 11 months

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#stranger than fiction #uptown girls #la la land #mrs. doubtfire #robin hood: men in tights #little shop of horrors #kingsman: the secret service #v for vendetta #everything everywhere all at once

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reality-detective · 2 months

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Immortality of the Soul is spooky shit 🤔

#pay attention #educate yourselves #educate yourself #knowledge is power #reeducate yourself #reeducate yourselves #think about it #think for yourselves #think for yourself #do your homework #do some research #do your own research #ask yourself questions #question everything #immortality #human immortality #stranger than fiction #stranger things #spooky stuff

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 29 days

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 27: Gifts

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 27, Part 28 (Coming Soon)...

AN: Sorry about the wait Word Count: 3,816 Warnings: none

The rest of your night is spent tossing and turning in bed. The prickling along the skin of your hand and wrist are your only reminder of what happened in the car, not to mention the memories that flood your mind every time you close your eyes. Billy’s coy smile, how his eyes devoured your every move, the hungry glint in them at the sounds you made. Your stomach writhes, flipping and swirling the more your mind lingers on the interaction.

It irritates you, the effect he has on you. Every smirk, or touch sends your heart into overdrive. It doesn't help that your experience with relationships up to this point have never gone further than hand holding. But, this electricity that exists between you and Billy seems to be short circuiting all your logic and reason.

You’ve never spent a lot of time thinking about things like this, you’re not a child, Nancy has told you plenty about her relationship with Steve. You just never took any interest in it. Until now it seems. You're plagued by thoughts of Billy pressed against you, his calloused hands holding you tightly, his lips against your skin, the feel of his hot breath mixing with yours. Fuck.

You turn your head, releasing a pent up scream into your pillow until you're out of breath.

When exhaustion finally wins out, you’re cast into another restless sleep.

———-

You’ve been here before. It’s dark and cold, familiar. Home. It’s quiet right now, for now. You’re not needed, yet. Fear twists through every tendril of your being, as much a part of you as the darkness. You can feel the shadow in your mind, waiting. Ready to bend, break if needed. You’re tired. But, there is no rest here. No peace. No hope. Forever.

———

This is different. Not cold, warmth washes over you. The sound of crashing waves is rhythmic, almost like breathing. It soothes the initial panic of being in a new place, so bright and peaceful. It’s so different from the other place. You are able to glance around, there is no one else here. An empty beach. It’s nice.

———

The sound of your mom trying to sneak out of your room wakes you the next morning.

“Mom?” You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow, wiping sleep from your eyes. She stops, her hand on the door. She’s still in her scrubs, the only illumination in the room is the light coming in from the hallway.

“Hey sweetie.” She greets you softly, turning to face you, an apologetic smile already on her lips. “I was just checking on you, go back to sleep.” She tries to reassure you. Your gut twists, you can barely see it in the dim light but it’s definitely there. The ever present worry you inspire in her. You were having some kind of nightmare, you can feel it in the tense in your muscles and the ache in your bones. Feeling the exhaustion that plagues you from the tension your dreams bring into reality.

“I’m sorry mom.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair feeling the dampness of sweat. Her smile falters, pulling tighter at your apology.

“Don’t be sorry love. It just takes… time.” She reminds you. You know it’s what she needs to believe. That with enough time your mind will heal, that the nightmares will eventually fade.

“It’s getting better.” The lie tastes bitter. Her shoulders sag slightly, like she can feel the lie physically. She won’t press though, both of you are happy to let it sit between you. It’s easier than facing reality.

She pads over to your bed, gently stooping to press a kiss on your brow.

“I love you.” She says softly. You can’t help the small smile that pulls from you.

“I love you too.” You reply reflexively. You always say it back, just in case. It’s an easy truth, for the both of you. She pulls away, her smile a bit more relaxed than it was. “Go back to sleep.” She says again, patting your head as she steps back towards the door. She gives you a pointed look you know she normally only reserves for unruly patients, leaving no room for argument.

“Alright. No need to pull out the nurse mom voice.” You joke, lying back down. She laughs lightly at your joke, slipping out the door.

“Goodnight kiddo.” She says softly. You roll onto your other side, your back towards the door. You watch the light narrow into a sliver of the wall opposite you as she closes the door, leaving it open only a crack. Then laying still, you focus on slowing your breathing, listening to the sounds of your mom moving around the house getting ready for bed. She’s awake for another half hour, eating leftovers, looking through the mail, showering, and finally you hear the springs of her mattress creak as she gets into bed.

You listen to the silence for a little bit. You like the quiet. Your life has been chaos for so long, from the moment you woke up in the hospital and every day since it feels like the world has erupted into too many sounds. Everyone talking, a constant low level buzz of activity. It’s sometimes enough to drive you crazy.

When you're certain your mom is asleep, you quietly slip out of bed and get dressed. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you note that it’s only 6AM, still early enough for your morning walk to be peaceful. The house is still dark, but you move through it easily navigating in the dim light of morning. You gather your journal, and fill your water bottle placing both into your bag. When you go to put on your shoes, the dangling remainder of your sole catches your attention. You inspect the dilapidated sneaker for a moment, trying to think of the best way to cobble it back together. You eventually settle on duct taping the pieces back together, wrapping the tape around the shoe a couple of times to make sure it's secured.

It’s not pretty, but technically it’s a whole shoe again. Satisfied that your solution is functional, you lace up your shoes and grab Steves’ jacket from the coat rack. Slinging your bag over your shoulder you head out the door. The dawn is cold, the sky a dim shade of gray, everything still cast in shadow the morning fog slowly creeping over the earth.

You pick up a steady pace, heading for your favorite sunrise spot. There is a hill about a mile east that looks out over the currently barren fields and will be the first spot in Hawkins to see the sun. It also happens to have a very comfortable rock that is perfect for sitting and writing.

By the time you reach it, the sun has just started to peak over the horizon, bathing the top of the hill in golden sunlight. You can feel its warmth on your exposed skin, the cold morning air still clinging to the shadows. You take out your water bottle and notebook, setting the empty bag down on the cold rock. You sit down, positioning yourself to face the sunrise, taking a moment to watch the earth in front of you slowly brighten, the light washing away the remaining shadows. It’s quiet here, as quiet as it can be in nature. There are still the chirps of the birds and the rustling of dead leaves as small animals pass by, but peaceful.

You know that you can’t stay out too long. You may not notice the cold but your body still has a physical response to it and it's still the middle of December. So you open your notebook and begin.

The story you’ve been working on is not peaceful. It is a terrible story about a young boy raised to fight monsters. He’s known no other life, he was born with the burden of being the only one who can see these monsters, and he can never stop. But the older he gets, and the harder he fights to protect the world from evil, he realizes that a bit of that evil has taken root in him. It starts small, a black spot behind his ear, but it grows. It digs its roots in deep, twisting its way into his soul.

In the beginning the young man starts off as the hero, but eventually the evil will consume him and he will become what he fought so hard against. You know the ending, but it’s not written yet. There is still hope in the middle of the story.

When you notice the red tinge in your fingertips brought on by the chilly December air you stop and pack up your things. Taking one last glance around at the now illuminated field, you turn and head back home.

You arrive at the same time Steve pulls into your driveway. You can see him through the window as you approach and he looks a bit worse for wear. His hair is damp, hanging loosely around his pale face. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses but are no doubt blood shot with circles under them. He cuts the engine as you approach the drivers’ side, opening the door to haul himself out with a grunt of effort.

“Alright grandpa, how’s that hangover treating you?” You ask, unable to stop your teasing smirk even for his sake. He sighs heavily, closing the door just to lean back against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What kind of friend are you?” He asks, lifting a brow. “How could you let me drink that much?” You come to a stop in front of him, crossing your arms to mirror him.

“Because according to you, you’re ‘a grown ass man’ who ‘knows how to handle his alcohol’, and because I ‘never let you have any fun’.” You say, throwing air quotes around some of the excuses he gave you when you tried to get him to slow down the night before. A bit of pink brightens his cheeks at the reminder, but he laughs good naturedly at your teasing.

“Stop holding me accountable for my own actions.” He groans. “I don’t feel good, so I’m just going to blame you to make myself feel better.” He goes on, pressing his finger tips against his temples. His small smile brings a bit of life back to his ashen face.

“Oh of course. Whatever makes your life easier Steve.” You concede, your own smile pulling at your lips. He huffs a laugh, lifting his sunglasses onto his head. There is a beat of silence before he clears his throat, his cheeks flushing a bit more.

“And- uh- thanks. For, you know, babysitting me last night.” He says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his beck. Your stomach drops at the reminder, you didn’t think Steve was sober enough to remember much but apparently he remembered enough. You wonder if he remembers how he had held you against him, crying quietly in the kitchen while you whipped his tears. How he had gently lowered his forehead to yours and held your palm against his beating heart. You don’t want to press the subject, especially if he doesn’t remember everything.

“Don’t mention it, I’ll bill your parents later.” You joke, forcing yourself to chuckle. Steve laughs lightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looks you up and down, nodding his head towards his jacket you’re still wearing.

“The jacket looks good on you.” He says. You look down at the old bomber jacket, moving to unzip it.

“Yea sorry I just borrowed it to walk home last night. I, uh, couldn’t sleep.” You tell him, the unspoken truth behind your words not lost on him. He’s familiar with your anxious habits that don’t always make sense. That you have a tendency to walk away when your brain won’t settle down. His hand stops yours on the zipper, pulling it away.

“It’s okay, you can keep it.” He tells you. “I don’t wear it anymore anyways.” He explains, looking down at his hand encircling your wrist.

“Thanks Steve.” You beam up at him. He smiles back , his thumb running over the underside of your wrist. Your heart leaps. In that moment you wonder if he’s somehow feeling where Billy’s lips had been the night before. But that’s ridiculous.

“It will be a nice reminder of me while I’m gone. Along with this.” He says, pulling something from his pocket. Your eyes widen at the sight of a delicate gold chain, glinting in the sun, a small pendant hanging perfectly in the center.

“What is that?” You ask in confusion. Steves’ smile only grows as he drapes the shining metal over your wrist, easily clasping it in place.

“It’s your Christmas present. I’m giving it to you early cause I won’t be back until after new years.” He tells you, one hand still gently cupping your wrist. “The lady told me it’s real so it won’t leave a ring or anything.” He tells you as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Heat flushes your cheeks as you inspect the bracelet. You take in the intricate beauty of the simple chain, small links twisting and interlocking into a light strand of glittering gold. A simple pendant hangs from the middle. A brilliant shining sun, catching and reflecting the light, casting off its own rays as it hangs from your wrist. It’s beautiful. More elegant than anything you’ve ever owned. Something twists low in your gut.

“Steve, I can’t take this.” You tell him, moving to unclasp the chain. He instantly pushes your hand away.

“Of course you can.” He insists. Suddenly his eyes fill with worry. “Do you not like it?” He asks, his smile falling. Your stomach sinks.

“No, I- I like it, it’s really beautiful. It’s just too nice.” You try to explain. Steve sighs with relief, his smile returning in an instant.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a bracelet, it’s not like I bought you a car or something.” He laughs at his own joke. You struggle to maintain your smile. You know that money isn’t really an issue with Steve’s allowance but it doesn’t make you feel any better. He should be saving his money for school, not spending it on pretty things for you. Steve’s eyes catch on to your discomfort almost instantly. “Please accept it.” He pleads sincerely. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” He explains, one of his fingers flicking over the sun pendant.

Your heart swells at the sentiment. It’s unbearably cheesy, and very Steve. When your eyes glance up to meet his you’re once again met with the big brown puppy eyes, the hangover makes them look especially sad. You have to suppress a groan.

“Okay.” You finally give in, earning an ear to ear grin from Steve that pulls a smile out of you as well. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas, Babysitter.” He says, pulling you into a crushing hug.

“Merry Christmas.” You reply, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tightly, pulling you up and into him. “I didn’t get you anything.” You admit, shamefully burying your face in his shoulder. His responding laugh shakes both of you.

“Can I request an official document declaring that I’m your best friend?” He asks. Your cheeks burn at the memory of you and Steve admitting that you are each other's best friends the night before. You laugh, trying to swat at him but he keeps his arms locked around you. “Can I get it notarized as well?” He adds, still laughing.

“Oh shut up.” You groan, earning another laugh. When he finally lets you go, you take a half step back. You’re hyper aware of the bracelet, holding your arm slightly away from your body to keep it from catching on any of your clothes and potentially scuffing it.

“Aren't you flying out today? When are you supposed to head to the airport? ” You ask, glancing at your watch.

“I was supposed to leave 10 minutes ago.” He tells you flatly. You gap at him.

“You what? What are you doing here? You’re going to miss your flight you dork!” You practically yell at him, giving his arm a shot towards his car.

“I had to come say goodbye.” He says, laughing as he opens the door and allows you to shove him into the driver's seat.

“You could have just called!” You say, slamming the door closed as soon as his legs are in. You see him laugh again through the window. The engine roars to life as Steve cracks the window, still smiling.

“No I couldn’t.” He says, like it’s a fact. That gets an eye roll from you.

“Get out of here before I’m stuck with you all winter break.” You tell him, unable to stop the small smile that he always manages to drag out of you.

“I’ll call you from the resort!” He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the drive. “Don’t miss me too much!” He calls from the end of the driveway. “I’ll try!” You call back, waving goodbye as Steve gives you one last smile before pulling into the street. You watch the car speed down your street and disappear around the corner before heading towards the house.

An uneasy feeling settles over you as you make your way to your door. You and Steve had quickly become inseparable since the night the gate closed, it was a seamless partnership. It made you feel like there was someone there who had your back. You know that Nancy and Jonathan are still close but the knowledge that Steve will be alone for the next two weeks fills your mind with a low level of anxiety.

A chill snakes down your spine and your hurry into the house. You feel unsettled from the thoughts of Steve being so far away and practically unprotected, your palms itch with the need to do something. Instinctively you begin checking the safety of your own home. Moving quickly and efficiently you check locks on all the doors and windows, then lay hands on all the hidden weapons in the house. When you’ve checked all of them, you settle at the table with your fathers Barretta, pulling out the cleaning kit. It's monotonous work, but cleaning the pistol always seems to ease the itch in your hands when your anxiety picks up.

Rolling up the sleeves on the jacket your attention catches on the glint of gold around your wrist. You examine it for a moment, looking at how the delicate chain contrasts against your sun damaged skin. How it stands in opposition to your calloused hands, your fingernails chewed down to the quick, cuticles picked to an angry red. Your stomach twists.

It really is a beautiful piece of jewelry, delicate and perfectly balanced. Traits you can’t see in yourself. It really is too nice for someone like you.

What if you broke it or scratched it? What if you lost it on a walk? What if you fucked it up?

It’s too good for you. You wish it wasn’t, but it is.

You carefully unclasp the chain, lying it gently on the table before you start cleaning. You lay out the cleaning supplies, setting the pistol down on a rag in front of you. Then you settle into the process of disassembling and cleaning all the small pieces of the weapon. You remember when Hopper had taught you how to properly clean a gun. He told you that he and your dad would sit in silence for hours just sipping on drinks and cleaning the small harmless parts of the deadly machines. He always stressed that it was vitally important for you to understand the inner workings of a gun before ever picking one up. How all the pieces fit together, and if even one small part was missing or broke it would alter the functionality with devastating results.

Your fingers slowly darken with the combination of CLP cleaning oil and burnt carbon. You work diligently, rubbing at any blemishes remaining. When you’re satisfied that the gun is clean, and the anxiety in your mind has lessened slightly, you reassemble your gun and pack up your cleaning kit.

You move to grab the pistol, intending to put it back where it was hidden in your nightstand but pause your eyes catching on how dirty your hands are. You go to the sink and scrub at your hands until they are rubbed raw. When you’re sure that no remnants of carbon or oil cling to your hands, you pick up the gun in one hand and the gold bracelet in the other. You walk to your room, securing the pistol to the underside of your nightstand and placing the glimmering chain on the surface.

You can’t risk accidentally damaging it. Better to keep it here, safe. Your fingers ghost along the edges of the sun pendant, still managing to catch some of the light, glimmering up at you.

The sound of a revving engine causes you to jump.

Billy.

Your eyes dart to the time. 1156. You had lost track of time and nearly forgotten that Billy told you he would pick you up at 12. Not knowing what to expect, you just grab your bag, still packed from your walk, and head out the door before Billy can make enough noise to wake your mom.

Before you step out the door, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you have killed monsters before and faced shady government agencies, you should not let Billy fluster you the way he does. You are going to be so calm, he’s going to get bored and stop teasing you. That’s the plan.

His eyes are on you from the moment you step out of the house, his gaze follows you all the way to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat you notice he’s playing a cassette, it’s the first time you’ve actually recognized the song. You can’t remember the name, but it’s one of the songs Max showed you that day after school.

“You didn’t have to drive me.” You tell him, buckling your seatbelt. Billy immediately rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“Yea, tell that to the duct tape holding your shoes together right now, loca.” He shoots back.

“It’s only one of them.” You grumble, settling into your seat. Billy just chuckles.

“It’s just a ride crazy, don’t make a big deal about it.” He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of your driveway.

AN: sorry this took so long 😬

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