multi-fandomfuckboy

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

I’m UNWELL!!! I’m literally so in love with this art ❤️❤️❤️ thank you thank you thank you!!!

Attitude and Gifts

🥺more fanart for Stranger Than Fiction by @multi-fandomfuckboy because the paRALLELS JSANDJASD

#thank you seriously #stranger things #fanart #stranger things fanart #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger than fiction #stranger than fiction art

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Hey ❤️ I've been binge reading Stranger than Fiction and I absolutely love it ! I haven't finished reading it though, but I really really love it so far, I'm so excited to get to the next parts but also kinda hesistant 'cause that means I'll have nothing to obssess over for a while afterwards 😭 Also, quick question : this is probably gonna sound stupid but the reader is female right ? I mean there are words like "bra" and "her" and the fanart depicts a girl and I think there was this line that said that it's hard for y/n to hide the scars on her back inside the girls locker room (or maybe i'm getting this part mixed up with another fic ??), and "loca" refers to a female in spanish but maybe it's gender neutral reader because the tags precisely say "x you" ? I'm asking this just to be sure because I plan on sending the link of your amazing series to a friend and they identify as nb so I just need to make sure. 😊

Thank you so much for reading!! I have the next part written and plan on trying to type it up this weekend. I love hearing what you guys think!

The story was initially started with a female presenting reader in mind but I transitioned to a more gender neutral description of the reader going forward to try and make the story more inclusive. So in the earlier parts you can see where I was writing the reader as female, with the examples you used. But at around part 12 someone left a comment that made me want to make the story more inclusive. So from that point on I’ve tried to leave the readers appearance and presentation up for interpretation.

I love messages like this because it shows me just what a wide fanbase this story has. When I finish it I plan on going back and editing a few things so that the entire story is told in a gender neutral lens. Thank you!! ❤️

#reader insert #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #stranger than fiction ask #stranger than fiction #billy x y/n #stranger things #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #stranger things x y/n #my asks

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

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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[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Reblogging again cause I’m obsessed 😍

...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.

fanart of @multi-fandomfuckboy s series Stranger Than Fiction pt 26 and THAT SCENE thats been in my head since ive read it

#stranger things fanart #billy hargrove fanart #stranger than fiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

...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.

fanart of @multi-fandomfuckboy s series Stranger Than Fiction pt 26 and THAT SCENE thats been in my head since ive read it

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

I need to know who you sold your soul too in order to make Stranger than Fiction so good

If you paid attention to your notifications of me liking those in a 24 hour span, no you did not. You are doing gods work over here!

Thank you for reading! I literally love stalking peoples progress through the story based on their likes. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!

As for my soul.... don't worry about it 😈

#my asks #stranger than fiction

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction Part 27

#stranger than fiction

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

I’m literally begging for more Stranger than Fiction it makes me feral I.e. here’s some examples of me being feral for it

Please please please please please I will consume any amount you give me please and thank you

It’s so fucking good bro

Dude I am loving the energy!

I'm working on Part 27 right now and it's going to be an emotional piece, Reader is going to get a little insight into Billy's home life and we are going to get a little information on where Readers mental state is with her anxiety and survivors guilt. So get ready for that 😁

#ask #stranger than fiction #my asks

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Just wanted to say your series, Stranger Than Fiction, is literally one of the best pieces of writing I've ever read and I'm so excited for the next update!! 😊💞

Thank you so much for reading! I love getting comments like this! I'm currently working on the next part. I'm back on 12 hour shift work so it gives me more time off to work on writing.

#stranger than fiction #ask #my asks

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Hii cutie how are you?😭💕 I was wondering if you have ao3?

Yes! The only thing on it currently is Stranger Than Fiction. My username is "MultiFandomF_Boi" 😁❤️

#ask #my asks

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

I saw that your blog had an update from a few days back and I go to check how you have been doing just to find that Stranger Than Fiction has not one, but two new chapters. I was so happy! Both chapters were fenomenal too!

I love your writing and this story so much ❤️

Thank you so much for reading!! I took a little bit of a break there while I was adjusting to a change in my work environment/schedule. But I feel like I’m getting back into the swing of things now 😁

I’m currently sick and working on getting better but I hope to have the next part out sooner rather than later 😂

Again thank you for sticking with me ❤️

#ask #my asks

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

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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[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Will you be updating your Stranger Than Fiction story soon? I'm like an addict

Yes 😁

Part 25: Merry Christmas

Here is your next fix ❤️

#reader insert #x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #stranger than fiction #stranger things #billy x reader #billy lives #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy x y/n #billy fic #billy x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #steve stranger things #billy hargrove fic

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

What’s the font of “ the fanfiction graveyard”?

Thanks

1785 Bakerville 😁

#my asks #ask

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 25: Merry Christmas

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 25, Part 26 (Coming Soon)...

AN: I'm alive. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope you guys like it! Word Count: 4,362 Warnings: alcohol, vomit

It takes you more than 5 minutes to collect yourself enough to leave the bathroom. When you do finally leave, it feels like you're still in a fog of dream, nothing really feels real. It isn't until you’re seated in the library with Nancy, reading the same line in your textbook for the 10th time, that her question finally snaps you out of it. 

“What is that?” She asks, her eyes narrowed on the skin peaking out around the collar of your neck. She extends a hand, moving to pull the collar of your shirt away from your neck. 

“What?” you ask, instinctively pulling away, your hand moving to cover the sensitive bit of skin you know Billy had in his mouth earlier. Nancy’s eyes stay on you, her investigative brain working through something.

“Did you bump into something or…” Her eyes widen in realization. “Oh my god is that a-” Your eyes bulge in panic.

“Hush! Lower your voice!” you hiss, pressing your palm harder to your neck as if that will make the blemish disappear. You glance around the library that is mostly empty except for one or two students minding their own business. 

“Is that really a…” Nancy glances around as well, leaning in closely and mouthing the word. “Hickey?” You don’t know what to say. Is it? You didn’t think to look at yourself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. It’s not like you’ve ever been in this situation before. You don’t think they make a handbook for this type of thing that would give you tips like ‘always check for hickeys’. Nancy must take your silence as confirmation, her surprised expression shifting into a wide grin.

“Oh my god! You have to tell me everything! I didn’t even know you were talking to anyone!” She gushes, closing the book in front of her and leaning in. You wish you could just disappear. “Who is it? It must have happened recently. Is that why your face was all red when you got here?” Your heart skips a beat, why did she have to be so observant? 

“I- uh-” you stammer, struggling to think of anything to say that isn’t the truth. You can’t tell her what happened, or who it happened with. “I can’t say.” you blurt out, lowering your eyes from her bright smile. 

“Come on!” she pleads. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, I’m just surprised you are actually talking to someone.” She explains. You feel a stab of indignation at that. Why is it so surprising? Are you so undesirable that it seems impossible someone would want to press you against a bathroom stall and-

“It’s really nothing Nance, just drop it.” You bite back, some of your frustration leaking into your voice. You keep your eyes on your textbook, buttoning your shirt up to ensure the skin is covered. She seems to take the hint, sighing but leaning back in her chair.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me.” You’re relieved that she’s stopped pushing. “But at least let me cover it up for you. Your mom will have a cow if she sees that on your neck.” She tells you, reaching into her purse to pull out her compact.

You let her cover the mark. When she’s done she offers you her mirror to admire her handiwork. You can barely see the purple mark under the light sheen of makeup, to anyone else it would just look like a shadow. 

“Thank you Nancy.” You tell her genuinely, handing back the mirror. You try to ignore the pang of guilt you feel having to keep things from her. But it really is for the best. 

“It’s no problem.” She smiles, packing away her things. “I got a lot of practice when I was with St-” She catches herself, her smile falters and she keeps her head down. You clear your throat, not wanting her to dwell on the memory.

“Are you going to Tina’s tonight?” you ask, moving to pack up your own things. Her eyes dart to you, once again surprised.

“Yea. Are YOU going to Tina’s tonight?” she asks, her brows drawing together. You shrug, trying to look nonchalant. 

“I was thinking about it.” you tell her, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Alright, who are you and what have you done with my friend?” she asks, grabbing you by the shoulder and giving you a playful shake. You can’t help but chuckle. “I thought I was going to have to kidnap you to get you to go. I basically had to bribe Jonathan to get him to agree.” she explains, linking her arm with yours as you both head towards the exit. “Do you need a ride? I can get Jonathan to-”

“No, I have a ride.” you tell her, purposely leaving out the fact that it’s Steve. You don't want to make things more awkward. She glances at you out of the corner of her eye. 

“Would your ride happen to be the mystery man who was sucking on your neck earlier?” She asks, causing you to let out an embarrassing sound while shoving her away.

“Oh my god, Nancy!” you exclaim, the heat returning to your face. “It’s not like that.” you insist, giving her a glare. Nancy only smiles to herself, continuing down the hall. 

“I’m just a naturally inquisitive person, you should know this by now.” She chides you, a slight skip in her step. You have to roll your eyes. She truly was too nosy for her own good. 

“I swear that curiosity is going to get you in trouble one day.” you tell her, pulling your jacket closer around you as she opens the doors, a gust of winter air bursting in. 

“But today is not that day.” She says with a smile, offering you a wave as she rushes to Jonathan’s waiting car. “I’ll see you tonight!” She calls, climbing into the car. You wave to both of them as they pull away from the school. 

You hesitate for a moment, but it's long enough for thoughts of Billy to fill your mind. You shiver at the memory as well as the chill in the air. 

“Fuck.” you grumble, slinging your bag from your shoulder to pull out a slip of paper. You quickly scribble a note for Steve explaining that you are going to walk home and that you would see him at 8 to head to Tina’s, wedging it in the door on the driver side. 

You walk home in record time. Your stride hurried, moving quickly, your sneakers eating up the pavement. It’s still not enough to chase the thoughts of Billy from your mind. 

When you get home you busy yourself with cooking and starting on the laundry, anything to keep yourself busy. You tell your mom that you’ll be going out to a party with Steve tonight, earning a raised eyebrow and a knowing look. You don’t have the energy to scold her for her obvious thoughts about you and Steve. It’s really only gotten worse since Nancy and Jonathan officially started dating. Your mom is convinced that the two of you are just waiting a respectable amount of time before making it official. You really can't blame her for thinking that, he’s quickly become one of your closest friends and most of your time is spent together. To anyone else, it makes perfect sense. 

8 o’clock rolls around and you’ve come to the conclusion that hiding a pistol under your christmas sweater won’t work. You settle on strapping a knife to your ankle, the little voice in your head not allowing you to leave unarmed… just in case. 

Steve is in high spirits when he pulls into your driveway. He leaps out of the car to show you his obnoxiously decorated Christmas sweater. You pretend to shield your eyes from the gratuitous amounts of glittering tinsel adorning him, the light from his headlights reflecting off the multiple ornaments dangling from him. He chatters the whole way to the party. You’re thankful for the distraction, it’s harder to worry with Steve explaining how he made his sweater with the old Christmas decorations he found. 

But, it’s impossible for you not to think about the last party Steve dragged you to. It’s crazy to think that was only a few weeks ago. Your chest tightens at the memory of Nancy drunkenly accusing you of killing Barb. The pain and guilt stab at the wound in your heart, reminding you of its permanence. 

“We don’t have to go, you know?” Steve's voice jolts you from your memories. The car is parked on the street across from the already bustling party. Steve watches you, his eyes filled with concern and understanding. He offers you a small smile. “We can always rent Rudolf or something and-” 

“I’m good Steve.” You cut him off, placing your hand over his and giving it a light squeeze. He immediately turns his palm into yours, interlocking your fingers. “And I desperately need a drink.” You smile, only half joking about that. Steve returns your smile, bringing your hand to his mouth placing a quick kiss on your knuckles. Your heart leaps.

“Now that’s the Christmas spirit!” He lets go of your hand before your blush can spread. He’s always doing things like this. You know it’s just how he is, always touching, playful, flirty. You sometimes can’t help your immediate reaction though. 

The two of you climb out of the car, crossing the street. The house is filled with what seems to be the majority of the upperclassmen, upbeat Christmas music pouring from every window. Steve slings an arm across your shoulders as soon as you step inside, keeping you close to his side as he navigates to the kitchen. 

“Merry Christmas!” He yells over the noise, pressing a cold beer into your hand. He taps his can against yours before popping the top and chugging. He finishes his drink before you’ve even taken a sip immediately reaching for another. 

The two of you talk and drink, Steve finishing his drinks far faster than you. It’s impressive, he finishes three in the time it takes you to work through one. By the time he tosses away his 7th empty can it’s stopped being impressive and started being concerning. He’s still smiling and laughing, giving a lively (but tone deaf) rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’. 

Then Nancy and Jonathan arrive. Steve pretends not to notice but between drinks you notice his eyes flickering to them. His drinks start coming faster, his laughter louder, his eyes glazed with a distant look. At one point he stops completely, he’s hazy eyes drifting over the crowd until they find what they are looking for. Nancy and Jonathan stand against the far wall, tucked away from the jostling crowd, whispering to each other like they are the only two in the room. 

All the joy leeches from Steve’s face, his eyes falling to the half finished drink in his hands. You see the muscle in his jaw tick before he brings the drink to his lips, draining the remainder. 

“Hey, do you want some water or something?” You ask, setting down your own drink. His gaze turns to you, struggling to focus. 

“I’m fine.” He slurs, tossing away another empty can. He sways slightly with the motion, you quickly grasp his shoulders to steady him. 

“You don’t look fine, Steve. I think you should take a break.” You tell him firmly, keeping your hands on his shoulders. He drunkenly smiles down at you. 

“You’re so nice. Such a good friend.” he coos, swaying closer to you. “You’re the best.” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug, lifting you off the floor. 

“Whoa!” You exclaim, your fists gripping his shirt tightly. He beams up at you, still smiling stupidly. 

“You should come to Colorado with me. We can both go! My parents won’t even care, they never do.” He says excitedly. You know he’s talking about his family’s annual ski trip. He told you that they go every year for ‘Family time’, joking that it only lasts about a day. He’s been dreading it for the past week.

“Steve come on, you’re drunk.” you say, pushing on his shoulders slightly to see if he will set you down. His arms stay firmly locked around you. Glancing around you notice a few pairs of eyes on the two of you, causing your cheeks to burn.

“I can teach you how to ski! We can build snowmen and drink hot chocolate!” He continues, spinning you around a few times causing your heart to leap in your chest. 

“Steve! Put me down!” you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you as he spins you again. He loosens his arms slightly, allowing you to slide down him until your face is level with his. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, his nose only an inch from yours. 

“I-” Steve opens his mouth again but quickly closes it, a shudder running through him violently enough you feel it. He finally lowers you all the way back to the floor, his complexion suddenly looking pale. “I think I’m gunna-” he’s cut off by a heave, his body doubling over. You jump away, grabbing his arm and hauling him to the bathroom. You get him to the toilet just in time for him to empty the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

Kneeling next to him you place a comforting hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine. When it feels like he’s gotten it all up, his body sags one arm on the toilet seat, his head pressed into the bend of his elbow. 

“I’m going to get you some water and then I’m going to take you home, okay?” you tell him. You only receive a grumble in response. Slipping out the door, you close it behind you. The party continues outside, chattering, dancing, drinking. 

You move through the crowd, retrieving a red plastic cup from the kitchen and filling it at the sink. You pause for a moment, you're not sure why, but when you glance around the room of gyrating teenagers that's when you see him. Billy. 

He’s across the room, his normal crowd of acolytes surrounding him. You’re not sure why you thought he wouldn’t be here, a small part of you is stung that he didn’t say something earlier. He smiles, flashing his perfect teeth as he talks to Tommy and Carol. You see the people around him laughing at whatever he’s saying. 

Like he can feel your eyes on him, he glances up. His eyes meet yours, sending a jolt through you. What happened this afternoon in the bathroom flashes through your mind with vivid clarity. You can almost feel it, his body pressed against you, his hands in your hair, his mouth… Your hand drifts to the spot on your neck where you know his mark still resides, hidden under the high neck of your sweater. His eyes track your movement, something like hunger flickering across his face. 

A girl standing next to Billy slings her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his as she grins up at him. Billy’s gaze breaks from you, his focus turning to the girl hanging on him. He smiles at her, his hand going to her waist.

Right.

You hate the sting you feel at the sight, immediately turning back to the bathroom. You silently curse yourself for even entertaining the idea that you and Billy… You stop that thought before it can even form. 

“Is he okay?” Nancy’s voice startles you. You hadn’t noticed her standing next to Jonathan in the hallway until she had spoken. Glancing towards the closed bathroom door you know she’s worried. Jonathan places a comforting hand on her shoulder. For some reason it irritates you. 

Steve is sick, drinking himself into numbness because of them. He manages to hide it so well normally but you know it hurts him. Is hurting him. 

“He’s fine.” you say with your best approximation of a smile. “I’m just going to take him home.” you tell them. 

Nancy nods, glancing to the bathroom again then up at Jonathan.

“We could help you get him home.” she offers, Jonathan nods to confirm. 

“No, no, that’s okay.” You say. “I haven’t really been drinking so I’ll drive him in his car.” you explain. You don’t think Steve is ready to accept help from the two of them, yet. You smile sadly at Nancy. You know she wishes things were different, you do too. Maybe one day it will be, when Steve’s heart has time to heal. 

“I’ll see you around Nance.” You say, offering her a reassuring smile. She nods in understanding. “Enjoy the party. Merry Christmas guys.” You tell them, Nancy pulls you into a quick hug that you carefully return trying not to spill the water. The two of them return to the party as you break away. 

When you get back into the bathroom Steve has slumped back to sit against the wall, his head hanging between his knees. He’s pulled off his Christmas sweater and thrown it into the bathtub, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. 

“Hey champ, you feeling alright?” You ask, walking to stand over him.

“I feel like shit.” He grumbles, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes pinched closed. “I got vomit on my sweater.” He tells you. You can't help but chuckle at his childish tone. 

“I got you some water.” You tell him, offering him the cup. His eyes squint up at you as he takes the water, closing them again as he drinks. 

“Thanks babysitter.” He mumbles, setting the empty cup down next to him. 

“You’re welcome. Now come on, I’m taking you home.” you tell him. He doesn't protest as you grab his arm, helping him to his feet. He tells you to leave the handmade sweater despite your attempts to pick it up. Eventually you agree to abandon the monstrosity because it would be too hard to clean vomit from the tinsel. He sways, leaning heavily on you as you lead him out of the bathroom. You manage to get him to the car, helping him into the passenger seat. You swipe his keys from his pocket before buckling the seatbelt across his lap.

“At least buy me dinner first.” He manages to slur, a crooked smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes at his drunken attempt at flirtation. 

“Alright lover boy, settle down.” You tell him, earning what you assume was supposed to be a wink but looks like a facial spasm. You laugh lightly, closing the door. 

Looking back to the house you notice a lone figure standing in the shadows along the side of the house. You can see the glow of a cigarette burning in the darkness. You know it’s Billy. It’s alway him. It's like your gut has a 6th sense when it comes to knowing when he's around. Gripping the keys tightly you turn on your heel walking around the car to climb into the driver seat. Ignoring the feeling of his eyes following you.

The drive to Steves’ is uneventful. Christmas music playing softly on the radio, Steve humming drunkenly along with them. It gives you time to think. Unfortunately, you immediately think of Billy. You grit your teeth, your hands tighten around the wheel causing the leather to creek. You force yourself to take deep steadying breaths. For some reason the hole in your heart feels especially big. 

Pulling into Steves’ driveway you put the car in park, hopping out and heading to the passenger side to help Steve. He groans when you open the door, letting the cold air in. 

“Come on buddy.” you say, unbuckling him and trying to pull him from the car. Stve pulls back, resisting.

“I don wanna.” he slurs, curling away from the frozen air. You pull him harder, finally getting his legs out of the car.

“Steve, if you get out of the car, I’ll make hot chocolate.” you try to bribe him. He perks up slightly at that.

“With marshmallows?” he asks, looking up at you with the most heartbreaking puppy dog eyes you have ever seen. You note to yourself that alcohol makes his big brown eyes even more pitiful. 

“Of course with marshmallows.” you promise him. He smiles happily, finally allowing you to pull him from his seat, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders to guide him to the house. You practically drag him up the front steps, unlocking the door with his keys. There is no way you are getting him up the stairs to his room like this, You settle for the living room, helping him settle on the couch as gently as you can. His head flops to one side, mumbling something under his breath.

You head for the kitchen, filling the kettle on the stove with water and turning on the heat. You gather your hot chocolate materials and grab two mugs from the cabinet scooping nesquik powder into both. You stand at the counter, bracing your hands in front of you as you wait for the water to boil. 

You hear Steve’s shuffled footsteps coming from the living room, into the kitchen,

“I’m just working on the hot chocolate.” you say, keeping your back to him grabbing the bag of marshmallows. 

You jump slightly when you feel him at your back. His chest is nearly touching you, his arms braced on either side of your hips. Most likely to keep him from falling over but effectively trapping you against the counter. His breath tickles the back of your neck as he lowers his head to rest on your shoulder. You wonder briefly if he can see your scars sticking out from the neck of your sweater. 

Your heart leaps into your throat and you swallow past it, focusing on the bag of marshmallows clutched in your hands. You wait, unsure of how to move with him this close. If you push back even an inch your back will be pressed flush against his chest. Finally he speaks, barely a whisper.

“What did I do wrong?” His voice is thick, heavy with emotion. You see his hands shaking as they clutch at the counter. Your heart constricts. “I loved her so much. What’s wrong with me?” He asks, his voice cracking. He presses his forehead harder against your shoulder, you feel his tears soaking through your sweater, his shoulders beginning to shaking.

“Oh Steve.” You say quietly, finally turning to face him. Your hip brushes against his, your lower back pressing against the counter as you look up at him, taking his face in your hands. He keeps his head bowed, his chin quivering as fresh tears well up in his eyes. You lean forward, holding his gaze, wiping away the tears racing down his cheeks. “Hey, listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you Steve.” you tell him firmly, willing him to believe you. He leans into your touch, his breathing shallow as it ghosts along the inside of your wrist. He sniffles gently, both of his hands moving to your hips gripping you tightly like you might slip away if he doesn't keep hold of you. 

“I think you’re my best friend.” He mumbles, turning his face slightly into your hand pressing a light kiss to your palm. Your heart breaks for him. You once thought Steve Harrington had a million friends and you couldn’t possibly be one of them. But here you both are, broken, damaged, scared, and together. 

“You're my best friend too.” You reply quietly, gently brushing his hair from his forehead. He holds your gaze, his brown eyes warm and kind as they watch you. You hate seeing him like this. He hides it so well but you know that this part of him is always there, in the back of his mind, whispering, doubting, telling him there is something wrong with him. Never good enough. 

One of his hands comes up to take yours, pulling it from his face down to his chest. He holds your hand there, flat against his chest where you can feel his heart beating. He watches you, like if he holds your hand there you will be able to feel the cracks in his heart. The beat is strong and steady, despite how broken it is. He leans in slightly, lowering his head to press his forehead against yours. You both stand there for a moment, in the silent kitchen, just holding each other.  

The sound of the kettle whistling breaks the two of you apart. You quickly pour the water into the mugs, mixing them, before adding the marshmallows. You ignore the slight shake in your hands. Steve doesn't seem to notice when you hand him his mug, slowly shuffling back to the living room. The two of you settle onto the couch, Steve pulls your legs over his lap, slouching down into the cushions as he blows on his coco. The two of you sit in comfortable silence sipping on the warm drinks. After a few minutes, Steve sets his drink down and lays down horizontally on the couch, his head resting on your lap. 

Without thinking you gently brush your fingers through his hair. He sighs, leaning into your touch. His breathing evens out and he’s soon asleep. You are the furthest thing from sleep. When you finish your hot chocolate, and Steve is quietly snoring into the couch cushions, you stand from the couch and put on your shoes. 

As quietly as you can, you fill a glass of water and leave it on the coffee table next to some tylenol for Steve. Then, borrowing one of Steve's large winter jackets, you bundle yourself up and step outside, making sure the door is locked using the spare key hidden under the mat. 

Taking a deep breath of the cold night air, you exhale into the darkness before heading towards the street.

AN: Hope you guys enjoyed that! Another party ending in tears, these idiots just don't know how to have a good time.

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 25: Merry Christmas

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 25, Part 26 (Coming Soon)...

AN: I'm alive. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope you guys like it! Word Count: 4,362 Warnings: alcohol, vomit

It takes you more than 5 minutes to collect yourself enough to leave the bathroom. When you do finally leave, it feels like you're still in a fog of dream, nothing really feels real. It isn't until you’re seated in the library with Nancy, reading the same line in your textbook for the 10th time, that her question finally snaps you out of it. 

“What is that?” She asks, her eyes narrowed on the skin peaking out around the collar of your neck. She extends a hand, moving to pull the collar of your shirt away from your neck. 

“What?” you ask, instinctively pulling away, your hand moving to cover the sensitive bit of skin you know Billy had in his mouth earlier. Nancy’s eyes stay on you, her investigative brain working through something.

“Did you bump into something or…” Her eyes widen in realization. “Oh my god is that a-” Your eyes bulge in panic.

“Hush! Lower your voice!” you hiss, pressing your palm harder to your neck as if that will make the blemish disappear. You glance around the library that is mostly empty except for one or two students minding their own business. 

“Is that really a…” Nancy glances around as well, leaning in closely and mouthing the word. “Hickey?” You don’t know what to say. Is it? You didn’t think to look at yourself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. It’s not like you’ve ever been in this situation before. You don’t think they make a handbook for this type of thing that would give you tips like ‘always check for hickeys’. Nancy must take your silence as confirmation, her surprised expression shifting into a wide grin.

“Oh my god! You have to tell me everything! I didn’t even know you were talking to anyone!” She gushes, closing the book in front of her and leaning in. You wish you could just disappear. “Who is it? It must have happened recently. Is that why your face was all red when you got here?” Your heart skips a beat, why did she have to be so observant? 

“I- uh-” you stammer, struggling to think of anything to say that isn’t the truth. You can’t tell her what happened, or who it happened with. “I can’t say.” you blurt out, lowering your eyes from her bright smile. 

“Come on!” she pleads. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, I’m just surprised you are actually talking to someone.” She explains. You feel a stab of indignation at that. Why is it so surprising? Are you so undesirable that it seems impossible someone would want to press you against a bathroom stall and-

“It’s really nothing Nance, just drop it.” You bite back, some of your frustration leaking into your voice. You keep your eyes on your textbook, buttoning your shirt up to ensure the skin is covered. She seems to take the hint, sighing but leaning back in her chair.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me.” You’re relieved that she’s stopped pushing. “But at least let me cover it up for you. Your mom will have a cow if she sees that on your neck.” She tells you, reaching into her purse to pull out her compact.

You let her cover the mark. When she’s done she offers you her mirror to admire her handiwork. You can barely see the purple mark under the light sheen of makeup, to anyone else it would just look like a shadow. 

“Thank you Nancy.” You tell her genuinely, handing back the mirror. You try to ignore the pang of guilt you feel having to keep things from her. But it really is for the best. 

“It’s no problem.” She smiles, packing away her things. “I got a lot of practice when I was with St-” She catches herself, her smile falters and she keeps her head down. You clear your throat, not wanting her to dwell on the memory.

“Are you going to Tina’s tonight?” you ask, moving to pack up your own things. Her eyes dart to you, once again surprised.

“Yea. Are YOU going to Tina’s tonight?” she asks, her brows drawing together. You shrug, trying to look nonchalant. 

“I was thinking about it.” you tell her, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Alright, who are you and what have you done with my friend?” she asks, grabbing you by the shoulder and giving you a playful shake. You can’t help but chuckle. “I thought I was going to have to kidnap you to get you to go. I basically had to bribe Jonathan to get him to agree.” she explains, linking her arm with yours as you both head towards the exit. “Do you need a ride? I can get Jonathan to-”

“No, I have a ride.” you tell her, purposely leaving out the fact that it’s Steve. You don't want to make things more awkward. She glances at you out of the corner of her eye. 

“Would your ride happen to be the mystery man who was sucking on your neck earlier?” She asks, causing you to let out an embarrassing sound while shoving her away.

“Oh my god, Nancy!” you exclaim, the heat returning to your face. “It’s not like that.” you insist, giving her a glare. Nancy only smiles to herself, continuing down the hall. 

“I’m just a naturally inquisitive person, you should know this by now.” She chides you, a slight skip in her step. You have to roll your eyes. She truly was too nosy for her own good. 

“I swear that curiosity is going to get you in trouble one day.” you tell her, pulling your jacket closer around you as she opens the doors, a gust of winter air bursting in. 

“But today is not that day.” She says with a smile, offering you a wave as she rushes to Jonathan’s waiting car. “I’ll see you tonight!” She calls, climbing into the car. You wave to both of them as they pull away from the school. 

You hesitate for a moment, but it's long enough for thoughts of Billy to fill your mind. You shiver at the memory as well as the chill in the air. 

“Fuck.” you grumble, slinging your bag from your shoulder to pull out a slip of paper. You quickly scribble a note for Steve explaining that you are going to walk home and that you would see him at 8 to head to Tina’s, wedging it in the door on the driver side. 

You walk home in record time. Your stride hurried, moving quickly, your sneakers eating up the pavement. It’s still not enough to chase the thoughts of Billy from your mind. 

When you get home you busy yourself with cooking and starting on the laundry, anything to keep yourself busy. You tell your mom that you’ll be going out to a party with Steve tonight, earning a raised eyebrow and a knowing look. You don’t have the energy to scold her for her obvious thoughts about you and Steve. It’s really only gotten worse since Nancy and Jonathan officially started dating. Your mom is convinced that the two of you are just waiting a respectable amount of time before making it official. You really can't blame her for thinking that, he’s quickly become one of your closest friends and most of your time is spent together. To anyone else, it makes perfect sense. 

8 o’clock rolls around and you’ve come to the conclusion that hiding a pistol under your christmas sweater won’t work. You settle on strapping a knife to your ankle, the little voice in your head not allowing you to leave unarmed… just in case. 

Steve is in high spirits when he pulls into your driveway. He leaps out of the car to show you his obnoxiously decorated Christmas sweater. You pretend to shield your eyes from the gratuitous amounts of glittering tinsel adorning him, the light from his headlights reflecting off the multiple ornaments dangling from him. He chatters the whole way to the party. You’re thankful for the distraction, it’s harder to worry with Steve explaining how he made his sweater with the old Christmas decorations he found. 

But, it’s impossible for you not to think about the last party Steve dragged you to. It’s crazy to think that was only a few weeks ago. Your chest tightens at the memory of Nancy drunkenly accusing you of killing Barb. The pain and guilt stab at the wound in your heart, reminding you of its permanence. 

“We don’t have to go, you know?” Steve's voice jolts you from your memories. The car is parked on the street across from the already bustling party. Steve watches you, his eyes filled with concern and understanding. He offers you a small smile. “We can always rent Rudolf or something and-” 

“I’m good Steve.” You cut him off, placing your hand over his and giving it a light squeeze. He immediately turns his palm into yours, interlocking your fingers. “And I desperately need a drink.” You smile, only half joking about that. Steve returns your smile, bringing your hand to his mouth placing a quick kiss on your knuckles. Your heart leaps.

“Now that’s the Christmas spirit!” He lets go of your hand before your blush can spread. He’s always doing things like this. You know it’s just how he is, always touching, playful, flirty. You sometimes can’t help your immediate reaction though. 

The two of you climb out of the car, crossing the street. The house is filled with what seems to be the majority of the upperclassmen, upbeat Christmas music pouring from every window. Steve slings an arm across your shoulders as soon as you step inside, keeping you close to his side as he navigates to the kitchen. 

“Merry Christmas!” He yells over the noise, pressing a cold beer into your hand. He taps his can against yours before popping the top and chugging. He finishes his drink before you’ve even taken a sip immediately reaching for another. 

The two of you talk and drink, Steve finishing his drinks far faster than you. It’s impressive, he finishes three in the time it takes you to work through one. By the time he tosses away his 7th empty can it’s stopped being impressive and started being concerning. He’s still smiling and laughing, giving a lively (but tone deaf) rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’. 

Then Nancy and Jonathan arrive. Steve pretends not to notice but between drinks you notice his eyes flickering to them. His drinks start coming faster, his laughter louder, his eyes glazed with a distant look. At one point he stops completely, he’s hazy eyes drifting over the crowd until they find what they are looking for. Nancy and Jonathan stand against the far wall, tucked away from the jostling crowd, whispering to each other like they are the only two in the room. 

All the joy leeches from Steve’s face, his eyes falling to the half finished drink in his hands. You see the muscle in his jaw tick before he brings the drink to his lips, draining the remainder. 

“Hey, do you want some water or something?” You ask, setting down your own drink. His gaze turns to you, struggling to focus. 

“I’m fine.” He slurs, tossing away another empty can. He sways slightly with the motion, you quickly grasp his shoulders to steady him. 

“You don’t look fine, Steve. I think you should take a break.” You tell him firmly, keeping your hands on his shoulders. He drunkenly smiles down at you. 

“You’re so nice. Such a good friend.” he coos, swaying closer to you. “You’re the best.” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug, lifting you off the floor. 

“Whoa!” You exclaim, your fists gripping his shirt tightly. He beams up at you, still smiling stupidly. 

“You should come to Colorado with me. We can both go! My parents won’t even care, they never do.” He says excitedly. You know he’s talking about his family’s annual ski trip. He told you that they go every year for ‘Family time’, joking that it only lasts about a day. He’s been dreading it for the past week.

“Steve come on, you’re drunk.” you say, pushing on his shoulders slightly to see if he will set you down. His arms stay firmly locked around you. Glancing around you notice a few pairs of eyes on the two of you, causing your cheeks to burn.

“I can teach you how to ski! We can build snowmen and drink hot chocolate!” He continues, spinning you around a few times causing your heart to leap in your chest. 

“Steve! Put me down!” you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you as he spins you again. He loosens his arms slightly, allowing you to slide down him until your face is level with his. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, his nose only an inch from yours. 

“I-” Steve opens his mouth again but quickly closes it, a shudder running through him violently enough you feel it. He finally lowers you all the way back to the floor, his complexion suddenly looking pale. “I think I’m gunna-” he’s cut off by a heave, his body doubling over. You jump away, grabbing his arm and hauling him to the bathroom. You get him to the toilet just in time for him to empty the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

Kneeling next to him you place a comforting hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine. When it feels like he’s gotten it all up, his body sags one arm on the toilet seat, his head pressed into the bend of his elbow. 

“I’m going to get you some water and then I’m going to take you home, okay?” you tell him. You only receive a grumble in response. Slipping out the door, you close it behind you. The party continues outside, chattering, dancing, drinking. 

You move through the crowd, retrieving a red plastic cup from the kitchen and filling it at the sink. You pause for a moment, you're not sure why, but when you glance around the room of gyrating teenagers that's when you see him. Billy. 

He’s across the room, his normal crowd of acolytes surrounding him. You’re not sure why you thought he wouldn’t be here, a small part of you is stung that he didn’t say something earlier. He smiles, flashing his perfect teeth as he talks to Tommy and Carol. You see the people around him laughing at whatever he’s saying. 

Like he can feel your eyes on him, he glances up. His eyes meet yours, sending a jolt through you. What happened this afternoon in the bathroom flashes through your mind with vivid clarity. You can almost feel it, his body pressed against you, his hands in your hair, his mouth… Your hand drifts to the spot on your neck where you know his mark still resides, hidden under the high neck of your sweater. His eyes track your movement, something like hunger flickering across his face. 

A girl standing next to Billy slings her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his as she grins up at him. Billy’s gaze breaks from you, his focus turning to the girl hanging on him. He smiles at her, his hand going to her waist.

Right.

You hate the sting you feel at the sight, immediately turning back to the bathroom. You silently curse yourself for even entertaining the idea that you and Billy… You stop that thought before it can even form. 

“Is he okay?” Nancy’s voice startles you. You hadn’t noticed her standing next to Jonathan in the hallway until she had spoken. Glancing towards the closed bathroom door you know she’s worried. Jonathan places a comforting hand on her shoulder. For some reason it irritates you. 

Steve is sick, drinking himself into numbness because of them. He manages to hide it so well normally but you know it hurts him. Is hurting him. 

“He’s fine.” you say with your best approximation of a smile. “I’m just going to take him home.” you tell them. 

Nancy nods, glancing to the bathroom again then up at Jonathan.

“We could help you get him home.” she offers, Jonathan nods to confirm. 

“No, no, that’s okay.” You say. “I haven’t really been drinking so I’ll drive him in his car.” you explain. You don’t think Steve is ready to accept help from the two of them, yet. You smile sadly at Nancy. You know she wishes things were different, you do too. Maybe one day it will be, when Steve’s heart has time to heal. 

“I’ll see you around Nance.” You say, offering her a reassuring smile. She nods in understanding. “Enjoy the party. Merry Christmas guys.” You tell them, Nancy pulls you into a quick hug that you carefully return trying not to spill the water. The two of them return to the party as you break away. 

When you get back into the bathroom Steve has slumped back to sit against the wall, his head hanging between his knees. He’s pulled off his Christmas sweater and thrown it into the bathtub, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. 

“Hey champ, you feeling alright?” You ask, walking to stand over him.

“I feel like shit.” He grumbles, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes pinched closed. “I got vomit on my sweater.” He tells you. You can't help but chuckle at his childish tone. 

“I got you some water.” You tell him, offering him the cup. His eyes squint up at you as he takes the water, closing them again as he drinks. 

“Thanks babysitter.” He mumbles, setting the empty cup down next to him. 

“You’re welcome. Now come on, I’m taking you home.” you tell him. He doesn't protest as you grab his arm, helping him to his feet. He tells you to leave the handmade sweater despite your attempts to pick it up. Eventually you agree to abandon the monstrosity because it would be too hard to clean vomit from the tinsel. He sways, leaning heavily on you as you lead him out of the bathroom. You manage to get him to the car, helping him into the passenger seat. You swipe his keys from his pocket before buckling the seatbelt across his lap.

“At least buy me dinner first.” He manages to slur, a crooked smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes at his drunken attempt at flirtation. 

“Alright lover boy, settle down.” You tell him, earning what you assume was supposed to be a wink but looks like a facial spasm. You laugh lightly, closing the door. 

Looking back to the house you notice a lone figure standing in the shadows along the side of the house. You can see the glow of a cigarette burning in the darkness. You know it’s Billy. It’s alway him. It's like your gut has a 6th sense when it comes to knowing when he's around. Gripping the keys tightly you turn on your heel walking around the car to climb into the driver seat. Ignoring the feeling of his eyes following you.

The drive to Steves’ is uneventful. Christmas music playing softly on the radio, Steve humming drunkenly along with them. It gives you time to think. Unfortunately, you immediately think of Billy. You grit your teeth, your hands tighten around the wheel causing the leather to creek. You force yourself to take deep steadying breaths. For some reason the hole in your heart feels especially big. 

Pulling into Steves’ driveway you put the car in park, hopping out and heading to the passenger side to help Steve. He groans when you open the door, letting the cold air in. 

“Come on buddy.” you say, unbuckling him and trying to pull him from the car. Stve pulls back, resisting.

“I don wanna.” he slurs, curling away from the frozen air. You pull him harder, finally getting his legs out of the car.

“Steve, if you get out of the car, I’ll make hot chocolate.” you try to bribe him. He perks up slightly at that.

“With marshmallows?” he asks, looking up at you with the most heartbreaking puppy dog eyes you have ever seen. You note to yourself that alcohol makes his big brown eyes even more pitiful. 

“Of course with marshmallows.” you promise him. He smiles happily, finally allowing you to pull him from his seat, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders to guide him to the house. You practically drag him up the front steps, unlocking the door with his keys. There is no way you are getting him up the stairs to his room like this, You settle for the living room, helping him settle on the couch as gently as you can. His head flops to one side, mumbling something under his breath.

You head for the kitchen, filling the kettle on the stove with water and turning on the heat. You gather your hot chocolate materials and grab two mugs from the cabinet scooping nesquik powder into both. You stand at the counter, bracing your hands in front of you as you wait for the water to boil. 

You hear Steve’s shuffled footsteps coming from the living room, into the kitchen,

“I’m just working on the hot chocolate.” you say, keeping your back to him grabbing the bag of marshmallows. 

You jump slightly when you feel him at your back. His chest is nearly touching you, his arms braced on either side of your hips. Most likely to keep him from falling over but effectively trapping you against the counter. His breath tickles the back of your neck as he lowers his head to rest on your shoulder. You wonder briefly if he can see your scars sticking out from the neck of your sweater. 

Your heart leaps into your throat and you swallow past it, focusing on the bag of marshmallows clutched in your hands. You wait, unsure of how to move with him this close. If you push back even an inch your back will be pressed flush against his chest. Finally he speaks, barely a whisper.

“What did I do wrong?” His voice is thick, heavy with emotion. You see his hands shaking as they clutch at the counter. Your heart constricts. “I loved her so much. What’s wrong with me?” He asks, his voice cracking. He presses his forehead harder against your shoulder, you feel his tears soaking through your sweater, his shoulders beginning to shake.

“Oh Steve.” You say quietly, finally turning to face him. Your hip brushes against his, your lower back pressing against the counter as you look up at him, taking his face in your hands. He keeps his head bowed, his chin quivering as fresh tears well up in his eyes. You lean forward, holding his gaze, wiping away the tears racing down his cheeks. “Hey, listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you Steve.” you tell him firmly, willing him to believe you. He leans into your touch, his breathing shallow as it ghosts along the inside of your wrist. He sniffles gently, both of his hands moving to your hips gripping you tightly like you might slip away if he doesn't keep hold of you. 

“I think you’re my best friend.” He mumbles, turning his face slightly into your hand pressing a light kiss to your palm. Your heart breaks for him. You once thought Steve Harrington had a million friends and you couldn’t possibly be one of them. But here you both are, broken, damaged, scared, and together. 

“You're my best friend too.” You reply quietly, gently brushing his hair from his forehead. He holds your gaze, his brown eyes warm and kind as they watch you. You hate seeing him like this. He hides it so well but you know that this part of him is always there, in the back of his mind, whispering, doubting, telling him there is something wrong with him. Never good enough. 

One of his hands comes up to take yours, pulling it from his face down to his chest. He holds your hand there, flat against his chest where you can feel his heart beating. He watches you, like if he holds your hand there you will be able to feel the cracks in his heart. The beat is strong and steady, despite how broken it is. He leans in slightly, lowering his head to press his forehead against yours. You both stand there for a moment, in the silent kitchen, just holding each other.  

The sound of the kettle whistling breaks the two of you apart. You quickly pour the water into the mugs, mixing them, before adding the marshmallows. You ignore the slight shake in your hands. Steve doesn't seem to notice when you hand him his mug, slowly shuffling back to the living room. The two of you settle onto the couch, Steve pulls your legs over his lap, slouching down into the cushions as he blows on his coco. The two of you sit in comfortable silence sipping on the warm drinks. After a few minutes, Steve sets his drink down and lays down horizontally on the couch, his head resting on your lap. 

Without thinking you gently brush your fingers through his hair. He sighs, leaning into your touch. His breathing evens out and he’s soon asleep. You are the furthest thing from sleep. When you finish your hot chocolate, and Steve is quietly snoring into the couch cushions, you stand from the couch and put on your shoes. 

As quietly as you can, you fill a glass of water and leave it on the coffee table next to some tylenol for Steve. Then, borrowing one of Steve's large winter jackets, you bundle yourself up and step outside, making sure the door is locked using the spare key hidden under the mat. 

Taking a deep breath of the cold night air, you exhale into the darkness before heading towards the street.

AN: Hope you guys enjoyed that! Another party ending in tears, these idiots just don't know how to have a good time.

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[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Not a question really but Omg your writing is top tier

Do you write on wattpad?

Thank you so much for reading!! I don’t write on any other platforms at the moment. I actually just posted this story on AO3 just to put it outside of tumblr.

I’ve been writing on tumblr since 2014 and I guess I just never branched out 😂

#ask