#billy lives

[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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[static-fucking-mess]

Eddie couldn't help himself. He stared at Billy Hargrove sometimes; the gorgeous curls and wild grin lit something inside of him the first time Eddie had ever laid eyes on him.

Billy's plush lips sucking in the smoke from his Marlboro reds, broad shoulders, tight jeans. Eddie couldn't help himself from focusing on the way Billy's tongue flashed out to wet his lips as the smoke billowed off into the sky from his nose.

Billy washed into Hawkins and Eddie's life like a hurricane from California. His loud car, crashing music, and Eddie knew just from catching sight of him once that he wanted to know everything about him. He imagined if he got close enough he'd still be able to smell the ocean air on his sun kissed skin. He wanted to know his favorite bands, his thoughts on media, God he'd even sit through talking about cars if it meant Billy would look his way. (It wasn't like he wasn't interested, just that his own knowledge was limited to keeping his dinosaur of a van alive, and he didn't want to sound like an idiot. Not in front of Billy.)

Everything about Billy attracted Eddie to him. Eddie Munson had never considered himself shy. Fuck, he was a bit awkward about social boundaries, but he'd never felt shy before. Then, there were rarely ever new people that came to Hawkins to stay. And Billy made it clear that he had no intention of staying. Hawkins was small, and desperately choking on its shallow gene pool, in Eddie's opinion. Fresh faces were hard to find, especially ones that were willing to look his way, after all.

Billy hadn't been willing. To look his way, that was. He took to the social hierarchy like a wrecking ball, and sent it all asunder. King Steve seemed no more, Tommy and Carol seemed to fight more amongst themselves these days instead of making biting remarks at others. But Billy? He still wouldn't spare a breath on Eddie the Freak Munson.

Eddie had tried once.

He'd been utterly tongue tied in approaching Billy, picking at his sleeve. The two stood awkwardly behind the school dumpsters as they had their smoke break. Eddie's hand shook as he rolled his wrist, searching for the right words that refused to come.

"I really— I mean... fuck— sorry. Hold on. Uh—"

Billy's cool gaze slid up from where his zippo burned the cherry of his cigarette. He flicked his wrist to close his lighter before he tucked it away, utterly unimpressed. Eddie would probably be unimpressed with himself too. But damn; Billy Hargrove was a God carved of marble and gold, blessed by California sun. Eddie was a home grown weed from an Indiana backyard. His brown hair frizzy, unkempt, and his skin a touch oily from his aversion to water. It wasn't like he skipped showers because he wanted to. But in that moment Eddie felt painfully aware that Billy Hargrove was miles out of his league.

"Beat it," Billy grumbled at him. "I'm not in the business of making friends with people like you," he hissed. Those beautiful blues steeling into something dangerous that made Eddie's insides go cold. He swallowed back his words and the shaking in his hand seemed to intensify.

"No um... no that's. Fair. People like me?" Eddie inquired, head tipping a bit. He wanted to know just what part of his stigma had reached Billy first. He'd seen the saints necklace dangling in the open neck of his shirt. "The Satan worshipper? The freak?"

"Queers," Billy snapped. He looked at Eddie like a hostile and wild animal. Like his smiles were more reflective of the animal kingdom than the humanity he bore to charm others. Eddie swallowed dry air and dropped his gaze? Putting his cigarette out under his shoe.

"Right," Eddie affirmed. Billy had seen the way the guy looked at him. It was impossible to miss those dark, chocolate doe eyes when they lingered on him. It tickled the inside of Billy's ribs something real funny when he noticed Eddie in class. Distracted, but gazing his way like he was looking at art in a museum.

Billy was used to people lusting after him. He was hot, and god he knew it. He utilized it more often than he probably should have, but his good genetics in the physical appearance department had gotten him into, and out of a lot of trouble.

But Eddie wasn't lusting.

Eddie looked like he was trying to figure him out. Wondering at him. And that was dangerous. Because Billy had caught himself wondering too. What calloused hands would feel like holding down his wrists, or what those pouty lips would feel like stealing the breath off his. Thoughts like that were what had led to them having to leave California. Thoughts that turned to action, action that had made Neil so angry that he gave Billy two options:

Leave California, and the boy behind...

Or go to Summer Camp.

The two seemed like impossible evils to wrestle with. And in the end, with defeat, Billy had chosen to leave his home behind. It had hurt more that the boy had moved on before Billy could even explain himself. He swore, man or woman, he wouldn't date. Dating just brought trouble. Laying roots was dangerous. Ripping them free just hurt more.

So, he broke Eddie's heart before it had the chance to bloom. So he thought.

Nearing the beginning of November, Billy struggled one morning to light his cigarette. Shivering from the cold, and possibly the pain in his ribs. The pain that curled up through him and reminded him that defiance tasted like iron and copper on every breath in.

"Here—" the voice was steeped in sweet honey. Eddie lit his cigarette for him, and Billy flicked his eyes up to meet with Eddie's.

Eddie cupped his hands around Billy's while the cigarette dangled from his lips. Eddie rubbed his rough hands over Billy's to warm them, breathing softly over them to fight away the frost and chill in the air. Billy stood stiff and still like the early frost had taken root in him.

Eddie gazed up at Billy and offered him a smile, almost sheepish as he stepped away. He mourned the loss of that warmth as soon as it was gone, the fleeting action stirring something inside that Billy didn't want to fan the flames of.

"Shit, sorry," Eddie snorted. "I'm kind of a touchy guy, and uh. Social boundaries? Not my strong suit."

Billy chuffed, shaking his head before he took his cigarette loosely between two fingers and spat onto the pavement.

"Don't fucking touch me, freak," he hissed to Eddie. His frustration sizzling as his voice lacked the ire he wanted it to have. He wanted Eddie to flinch and run. But he didn't. Instead he just... shrugged his shoulders, unbothered, and turned away to smoke his own cigarette.

The next time Billy had contact with Eddie, it happened so quickly that Eddie wasn't even sure what had happened. It was just something small. Something... simple. But as they passed in the hall, Tommy had shoulder checked Eddie hard enough to knock him on his ass, laughing like he was looking for Billy's approval. That was not what happened.

The loud crash against the lockers had startled Eddie back to himself from the position he was in on the floor.

Billy had Tommy pinned to the lockers, speaking to him in a low and deeply venomous tone.

"Hands off, Hagan. The only person who gets to mess with the freak is me," he snarled.

Eddie wondered what that meant, but it felt like stepping closer to a warm fire in a way. He knew Damm well it might be dangerous to get too close. But Eddie didn't mind the way Billy burned. He wanted to be caught in the rush of Billy's storm.

Eddie had held that warm feeling in his chest for a while. It felt like a glow, and it was something that made him look Billy's way, even when he was shoved against lockers, shoulder checked in the hall, or had his books knocked out of his hands. Eddie always caught it.

The smile that wasn't mocking, even when Billy would insult him. It was like he couldn't put the same vitriol in it that he used to.

"Freak" felt more like a term of endearment. "Loser" felt like an invitation to squabble. And God did Eddie take every chance to bicker with Billy Hargrove.

Mid December, their words had turned into a tussle.

"You wouldn't dare—" Eddie had invited, grinning at Billy who had every intention of dumping Eddie into a snowbank.

"I think you need to cool it," Billy had snarked back, looking less than threatening with his red beanie on his head, puff ball and all. It had been Eddie's. The beanie. But Eddie hadn't said a word about the gloves, scarf, and hat he'd left in Billy's locker after he had noticed that the boy from California didn't have clothes suited for Indiana winter.

"Don't do it, Billy," Eddie laughed.

"Do what? I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Billy said back, casual as he took a step closer.

It happened, in a crash of flailing limbs and shrieking laughter. Billy saw Eddie for the first time. He saw the bright smile that was punctuated by dimples on either side. He saw the way Eddie's fuzzy hair fanned out in the snow as he was dumped into the snow bank, and god he couldn't help but notice the way flakes stuck in his eyelashes. His cheeks and ears red from the cold; Eddie wasn't wearing gloves, a hat, or a scarf. He'd given up his warm clothes to keep Billy warm.

And that sure made something inside Billy warmer than the sun in California ever could.

It was mid January when a knock resonated number 12 at the forest hills trailer park. It brought Eddie out of dozing. The alarm clock read an ugly 2am back at him that made him groan.

He pulled himself up and out of bed as the knock grew more irritated and insistent, swiping his hands down over his tired face.

"Jesus christ, I'm coming! Fucking relax!" He bellowed. Eddie shoved his feet into his slippers and shuffled to the front door, ripping it open.

"My hours end at 11 pm on week... nights..." the irritation in Eddie's voice gave way to a shocked whisper as he was met with a ghastly sight before him.

Billy Hargrove standing on his porch, braced against the side of the trailer to stop any swaying. It looked like he had bruises littering half of his face, and Eddie imagined it was worse, with the way the bruises on his neck seemed to bloom down under his jacket.

"Hey," Eddie whispered, unsure if he could say more. When he reached to push a curl out of Billy's face, the man flinched like Eddie was about to put a knife to his throat.

Instead, Eddie put his hand on Billy's shoulder and guided him to come inside.

That was the night that Eddie learned about Neil Hargrove. It was the same night that Eddie slept, curled around Billy. Like he could protect him.

Billy slept with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone, sinking into the scents of cinnamon and cigarette smoke. Eddie was warm, and even though he was more elbows and knees than plush and soft... Billy felt like he fit perfectly with his head tucked under Eddie's chin. Eddie gave good hugs. Great hugs even. Enough of them that Billy felt drunk on the scent of cinnamon and the comfort of his best friend's arms.

They continued as best friends for a long time. Until the Tragedy of Starcourt. Nobody called Eddie. Nobody had thought to at first, really. With the chaos and the news of Russians under the mall— not to mention how the last week or two, Billy had been avoiding Eddie like he was a Germ.

"Get the fuck away from me—"

"Stay away from me Munson."

"Get the fuck out of my face."

"I won't warn you again, if you come near me, I'll break your fucking neck."

Eddie had been sulking about it. Well. More than sulking if he was honest. Had he cried on Wayne's shoulder? Absolutely. Did he get a speeding ticket on his way to the hospital once Max had called him? Absolutely.

Eddie stood in the doorway of Billy's hospital room, looking in on his best friend like the universe had put a knife through his heart. Billy looked barely alive. Fragile.

Eddie was one of the very few visitors that Billy got. Neil Hargrove hadn't shown his face once. Max had told him in a hushed voice that he had packed his things to leave town. Billy was a hero for saving so many people in the mall fire, and Neil still hated him. Didn't want a disabled son.

Billy woke up alone. He wasn't surprised to wake up alone, in a hospital room without a single card on his bedside. Sure, he wasn't surprised... but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt like being cracked open from the inside out. A glaring statement that told Billy Hargrove:

'You don't matter.'

Even alone, Billy stifled his sobs so he wouldn't be noticed.

"Easy tough guy," the gentle voice came from the doorway, making Billy's heart jump up into his throat. Eddie came in with the nurses, who checked his vitals and pain levels. But Billy barely noticed them. He was focused on the boy whose smile cleansed the tar clinging to his heart.

"Thought I told you to piss off," Billy snorted through his tears, managing a shaky smile.

"I've never been good at listening," Eddie replied, rubbing his hand through Billy's bed messy curls. "Can't shake me that easy, sweetheart. I thought you'd have learned that by now. That grouchy bullshit isn't gonna shake me," he assured. Eddie was determined enough to stick out the hurricane.

"You're annoying," Billy spat at him, pushing his hand away.

"And I'm determined to continue to be," Eddie replied as he snatched Billy's wrist. He slid his hand up to lace their fingers and squeeze.

"Give it time," Billy said, seemingly unimpressed. He refused to look at Eddie, only because the idiot was gazing at him like he was someone precious.

"I've got time," Eddie replied, unshaken.

"Jesus, Munson, why don't you just— just leave me the hell alone?! Why are you always," Billy's breath hitched as his voice broke. Eddie was always there. Like a balm to his wounds. He didn't flinch when Neil beat him. He opened the door or answered the call no matter how late. Eddie Munson was a rock in the hurricane, ready to weather his storm.

Billy thought back to the memories El had shown him in that pit of darkness. His mother, the beach, the waves... and the snowy December day that Billy had fallen in love with Eddie Munson.

Billy didn't resist when Eddie placed his hand on his neck, thumbing his jaw like he was brittle. Fragile. And Billy supposed he was.

"God damn," Eddie whispered, smiling at Billy with tender eyes.

"What? Quit fucking looking at me like that. Like— like... pity. Jesus or like I'm gonna break. I don't need your bullshit sympathies, or your God damn coddling, Munson."

Billy felt like a wild animal, backed into the corner of a cage. Snapping and growling at the tender hands that wanted to hold him. Especially if that monster still lurked inside him somewhere. Ready to hurt.

That fear washed away when Eddie kissed Billy's knuckles, something soft. Endearing. Billy could only hitch a sob as his forehead thudded in to rest on Eddie's collarbone. He squeezed Eddie's hand, and to his relief... Eddie squeezed back. It felt a whole lot like someone saying:

'You matter. I love you.'

And for once, Billy wasn't afraid of it being a lie.

#mungrove #billy hargrove #eddie munson #mentions of abuse #abuse tw #neil hargrove is his own trigger warning #hurt/comfort #Billy Lives

[prettyboy-like-you]

“B-but I didn't believe that—”

“It's okay, Bills. I believed enough for the both of us.”

.

made for @harringroveweek. PROMPT: “People believe, thought Shadow. It's what people do. They believe, and then they do not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjuration. People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe; and it is that rock solid belief, that makes things happen.” — Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

#harringroveweek #harringrove harvest #harringrove #harringrove art #harringrove fanart #billy lives #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stilly #billy x steve #stranger things #stranger things art #stranger things fanart #queer #queer art #queer artist #fanart #digital art #art #pbly arts #prettyboy like you

[prettybillycore]

billy x autistic!reader???? I feel that I need that. Anyone else?

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove my beloved #fanfiction #billy lives #billy antis dni #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove moodboard #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove fanfiction #my thoughts

[larrybearry]

Billy Hargrove is a stubborn, obnoxious boy. He doesn't like letting people know what's going on in his head, it's what his dear old dad taught him. But once he finally opens up, his attitude changes for the better.

Some would say that Eddie appearing in Billy's life was a good thing. Truly, Eddie helped him for the better, showing him what being loved was like. Billy truly loved it, more than anything. Eddie made his life better. He never realized why Billy treated him and the others like shit back when he was in high school. He helped deconstruct that, he built Billy back up, made him a better person. Until the gates opened back up.

Billy thought that the scars on his stomach were enough of a reminder of his trauma, but no. The bastard had to take something else from him, something he truly cared about. It could've been anything other than that. But no. He just had to come back and deprive him of one of the only things that makes him truly happy.

When he ran up to Dustin that day, he was expecting anything other than Eddie. Blood spilling from his mouth, the same it had done to Billy when he was rushed to the hospital. But Eddie couldn't be helped, he refused to be helped. So Billy stayed next to him, for as long as it took him to stop suffering. To die. He held Eddie's hand the whole time, he couldn't bring himself to let go.

The last thing Billy did for Eddie was kiss his forehead. That's all Eddie would let him do, he didn't want to see Billy in pain.

Billy helped Dustin up, letting him lean on his shoulder. He was barely keeping it together. Both of them were limping and there was no way Dustin could hold Billy body weight. The only reason they were both limping was because Eddie had insisted that Billy went before him so he couldn't stop what he was going to do.

There's nothing else they can do until the others come back.

Steve asked where Eddie was. Dustin couldn't form words, so Billy tried. All he could get out was a sorry before Steve had the guts to bring him into a hug. Billy leaned into it. That's all he could do, all he could bring himself to do.

Eddie changed him for the better and he was never going to forget it.

#billy hargrove #beddie #billy x eddie #harson #mungrove #eddie munson #eddie munson x billy hargrove #eddie x billy #angst #billy lives #eddie doesnt #whoops #angst with a lil comfort #dustin henderson #gay #gay love #billy hargrove deserved a redemption ark #eddie shouldnt have died but here we are

[theladycarpathia]

Harringrove Week Day 1

July 29th - Heatwave

“Should we stop them?” Chrissy asks sweetly, like she’s actually worried. Her eyes are all huge and anxious, a little flush to her cheeks that could be excitement or the unexpected heatwave that smacked into Hawkins at the end of July. This piece of shit town gets worse in the heat, if that’s even possible to believe. But maybe that’s Billy’s hazy memories of last year, the thick cloying heat of the Mindflayer.

“They’ll be fine,” Billy says, without even looking. Because it’s hot as balls, and he’s lounging on a deckchair with a beer pilfered from Harrington Senior’s stash and when he gets too hot he’s gonna cannonball into the pool. Because it’s a day without work, or catch up school, and Max doesn’t need a ride and he has no obligations or responsibilities whatsoever.

And that does not include stopping his boyfriend from killing Chrissy’s boyfriend.

“There were freaking bats, dude!” He can hear Munson saying and he doesn’t miss Steve’s indignant huff.

“I nearly got eaten by the fucking bats,” Steve retorts and Billy cracks open an eye to take in the view. He’s never going to get over how fucking pretty Steve is. “Or did you forget, Munson?” To make his point, he jabs a finger at his previously smooth, unblemished abs, now marred by a thick scar that juts out just above his swimming trunks. 

“That’s not adding to your coolness points, dude,” Munson says flatly. “You had to get rescued by Hargrove. No offense,” he says, swiveling suddenly like he’s only just remembered that Billy’s there. Billy raises the beer can at him. Despite a brief, tumultuous period where he thought that Steve and Eddie might be a thing, he and Munson have an understanding. 

“And you got rescued by Chrissy,” Steve counters, throwing his arms up in the air. Chrissy winces, remembering the all too close encounter where they’d nearly lost Eddie. It’s still something she and Henderson don’t quite talk about. “We’re even in losing fights with bats.”

It says something about their lives and their collective encounters with the Upside down that that even makes sense. 

“Yeah, but it was a metal concert…” Munson protests and Billy tips his head back against the sun-lounger and sighs. If those idiots could sit their asses down, this day would be perfect.

“Are you sure they’re okay?” Chrissy whispers and accepts the beer can that he offers her. He never noticed her much at school, just yet another pretty cheerleader wandering the hallowed halls of Hawkins High. But then the whole Vecna fight happened, and it turns out Chrissy is pretty badass. No wonder Munson fell head over heels for her.

Their friendship is odd, he knows. The old Billy from before wouldn’t have looked twice at her. She’s too sweet, too soft, the kind of pure that Billy hasn’t been since he was seven years old. But she’d gone into battle alongside the rest of them and never once hesitated. Not bad for a chick in pleated skirts.

“Steve might push him into the pool,” he says easily, although he’d pay to see that happen. “Let them fight about it. We’re the most badass.” He offers her a fist, which she cautiously knocks. Her fist is tiny compared to his. Hard to believe this chick was able to escape Vecna. But then again, she’d had Eddie to help her. If the call had been between Vecna and Steve, Billy knows who would win every time. 

“I took on a Demogorgon with a nailed bat!” Steve says, furiously stalking back to the cooler and Billy. When he holds out a hand expectantly, Billy presses an ice cold can into it. Once his hand is free, he’s able to slide his fingers along the smooth dips of Steve’s hips, lazily watching as Steve cracks open the tab and takes a long drink. He still can’t quite believe he’s able to do this, to touch Steve so easily in front of other people. And while ‘other people’ still only means the Party and its various associates in private settings, he’ll take it. His feelings for Steve have been brewing ever since that first glimpse on Halloween night and the day he woke up in the Upside Down to see Steve, dripping blood and wielding an oar, was the day that they all bubbled over, spilling into every crevice and chink in his armor. 

“With help,” Munson adds, looking somewhat out of place. While Chrissy is in a cute blue swimsuit, and both Billy and Steve are shirtless, Munson is still wearing a t-shirt, claiming that years of D&D in basements and dark rooms have left him unfit for the sun. Billy thinks that Eddie’s name should have been the Vampire rather than the Freak.

“And the demodogs, and the tunnels, and Russians, and Vecna, and the Mind Flayer,” Steve lists, pushing back the hair that’s fallen in his eyes. “You weren’t there for the dead melty flesh monster! Except you, sorry,” he says apologetically, half turning to Billy. Billy shrugs. As he got possessed and then basically killed by the Mind Flayer, he’s okay with it not counting. Munson can argue all he wants but none of them have Steve’s credentials when it comes to this kind of stuff. It sounds like he’s half the reason all those idiots are still alive. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Chrissy murmurs, delicately wrinkling her little nose. Steve gives a harsh huff of laughter.

“Understatement,” he says dryly, crumbling up the beer can and chucking it in the vague direction of the trash bag. “Hey, I’m going swimming. Come with?”

Billy doesn’t have to look up to know that Steve’s speaking to him. He merely puts down the beer can and hauls himself up. Steve has a thing about his pool, something to do with a girl who died there long before Billy ever set foot in Hawkins. And Steve wants to swim but won’t go alone.

He streaks past Steve and leaps into the pool with a battle-cry loud enough to upset any other nearby Loch Nora inhabitants. The few seconds when he’s fully submerged under the water feel blissful - nothing but the sting of the cool, clear, chlorinated water, the rushing of bubbles in his ears. This isn't Cali, but Steve’s here and it will do. 

One day he’s going to take Steve to the sea.

When he rises to the surface and flicks his wet hair out of his eyes, Steve’s still standing by the edge of the pool, looking unimpressed. 

“Smooth, Hargrove,” he calls out and Billy grins. Steve’s so busy paying attention to him that he hasn’t noticed Munson sneaking up behind him. 

When Steve is inevitably tipped into the water, Billy swims over and pulls him up, sliding one arm around Steve’s waist. Steve spits out water and grabs hold of Billy’s biceps. They float there, in the middle of Steve’s massive pool, and Billy is overcome with the urge to kiss him, onlookers be damned. 

“Why did we invite them?” Steve asks, watching Munson swoop down on Chrissy and pull her, giggling, out of her chair. Billy carefully wipes water away from Steve’s eyes and then pushes his hair back over his forehead. 

“Fuck me if I know,” Billy says, watching Chrissy be pulled into Eddie’s arms and how the light catches her hair when she throws her head back. They both know what it’s like to have something else inside your head, making you feel insane, and he’s glad that she’s happy. “I was all for fucking in a deckchair and eating pizza. You’re the one who wants to be social.”

“I could have invited Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve points out and then laughs at Billy’s face. He’s not ever going to be a fan of Wheeler. 

“We can still have pizza,” Steve says, looping an arm around Billy’s neck and winding his fingers through the damp curls there. Billy snorts.

“Oh, that’s the thing you focus on,” he says and, because he can’t stand it anymore, finally leans in to kiss Steve. Steve’s mouth is soft and warm, with the tang of the beer still on his tongue. They kiss lazily, drifting in the water ever so slightly, pressed together from lips to toes.

Coming back from the dead wasn’t easy but it was fucking worth it for this.

They’re disturbed by Munson taking a giant leap into the pool, a shrieking Chrissy in his arms. The resulting wave swamps them both with water again and Steve slips out of his arms to help Chrissy dunk Munson. Billy swims back down the pool to the deeper water and drifts onto his back, closing his eyes against the intense heat of the sun. When the day has cooled, they’ll order pizza and watch one of the videos that Steve is forever bringing home at Robin’s recommendation. And once Chrissy and Eddie have gone home, Billy can relieve Steve of his trunks and lick all of the salt off his hip bones, swiping his tongue over the scar and up his ribs, until Steve’s too turned on to wait. They’ll probably sleep in a messy pile on the floor again, patio doors thrown wide open to let in the cooler night air, and Steve will get up to make Billy coffee before Byers drops off the brats.

And tomorrow, it’ll be more of the same, watching shrieking teenagers take over the pool while he sits in a chair and admires the muscles in Steve’s long, lean back.

When Billy watches Steve throw back his head and laugh, he can feel the words on his tongue.

He thinks he’s going to say them soon.

Overhead, the sun reaches its peak and the heatwave continues.

#harringroveweek #harringrove week #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #harringrove #edissy #hellcheer #prompt: heatwave #stranger things au #billy lives #chrissy lives #eddie lives #this is the version that exists in my head #billy x steve #It's Luna's first harringrove event #apologies for any inconsistencies #I'm english #I will add this to ao3 #and the collection

[italiansteebie]

Three's a Crowd (But who's complaining?)

Also on AO3

-------------

Steve is struggling, he’s being dragged further into the depths of the lake and he can’t breathe. ‘I’m going to die,’ he thinks, and just as his eyes go dark around the corners, he’s pulled through the slimy portal of the upside down.

He kicks as he’s dragged against the rough ground, he can feel the debris cutting through his back and arms. He really wishes he’d kept his shirt on. 

He stops, and there’s a weird chittering noise surrounding him. He comes face to face with some sort of bat that makes its way to wrap it’s tail around Steve’s neck, cutting off his air supply once again.

He feels the bats attack his stomach, he keeps one hand grabbing desperately at the animal ‘Demon,’ he corrects sourly, that’s pulling on his neck, while trying to swat away the ones that are currently feasting on his flesh. 

He hears a thud behind his head, and air flows easily through his throat, followed by smacking sounds that stop the meal the bats were enjoying.

“You come here often, Pretty Boy?” A gruff voice says from behind him.

Mustering up his strength he turns and comes face to face with, “Billy.” He breathes, and for some reason, tears spring to his eyes. He doesn’t know why- Well that’s wrong. While BIlly was an asshole, he was Steve’s.

And Steve was his.

He feels a bit numb as he stands with the help of his so thought, dead, pseudo-boyfriend. Really, they weren’t ever official, just a few dates and late night sessions here and there. Accompanied by shared trauma of bad dads and broken families. 

There are two collective gasps that break the staring spell he and Billy seemed to be caught in. Instinctively he grabs Billy’s hand tightly, much like he used to do those late nights at the quarry when one of them couldn’t keep it together. 

“Billy Hargrove, man. I thought you were dead.” Eddie says dumbly, walking over to him, reaching for a fist bump. Billy smirks at this, “Hey, Eddie. Guess I just couldn’t stay away,” He purrs, and Eddie’s cheeks go red.

Nancy is the one to break up the reunion, saying they need to get a move on.

“Wait. You’re telling me there’s a way out of here?” Billy asks, and he gets 3 collective nods, while Eddie shrugs, “I dunno, man. This is my first time.”

The ladies lead the way while Steve, Eddie and BIlly walk behind them, bumping shoulders softly as they walk.

“So… How ya been?”

Billy turns his head, “Still as awkward as ever, hey, Munson?” and Steve is thoroughly confused by now. “How do you guys know each other?” He asks, and they both go a little red.

Billy clears his throat, “Well. Sometimes I couldn’t afford to pay for my weed… So I paid him back in… Other ways.” He says, winking at the long haired boy on the other side of Steve. Steve shakes his head.

“Are you telling me, that the weed I gave you a blowjob for… You gave Eddie blowjobs for?”

“Well, Prettyboy. In a way, yes. But he’s a little bit more experienced than you. Do the math.”

Steve stops abruptly as does Eddie, “Wait. You were. You and- King Steve?” Eddie asks, a certain surprised tone in  his voice. “Look at the hair, Munson. You can’t expect a straight man to look this good. Certainly not… Well. Nevermind.” He cuts himself off, and Billy looks at him, now stopped a few feet away. 

“You haven’t told anyone else, have you?”

“This isn’t the time or the place, Bills.” The old nickname slipping out on accident. It’s Eddie's turn to look confused now, “Well, I’m pretty sure we’re all very close to death, so like. Perfect timing to let out your deepest, darkest secrets.” He says.

Steve sighs, “I wasn’t born a boy, Eddie.” 

“Huh?”

“I’m…”

“He’s trans, Eddie. He’s got tiddies.” Billy huffs out, to which Steve gives him a pointed look. 

“Hm. Okay.” He responds. Billy and Steve share a loo, one that says, “Yeah, he’s cool.” and Eddie feels a surge of pride, and also a pang of jealousy at their silent conversation. He wants that, but with who, he doesn’t know. 

Nancy and Robin are a few yards away now, stopped, looking at them. “Congratulations, dingus! Now let's go. We gotta get out of here!” Robin shouts. It’s almost like their feet are stuck to the ground, but they will themselves to move anyways.

It’s a silent agreement that they’ll carry on the rest of the conversation later, about Steve, and also about the budding feelings between… All of them. 

They’ve made it out, and the tearful reunion has finished between everyone. It starts with Billy apologizing, sincerely. Sinclair. Lucas, the way I acted has no excuse. But I want you to know that I’m not actually like… That.” He says with disgust.

“My old man… He made me, and well. I just felt stuck. I never should’ve done that to you. Or you, Steve.”

A silent debate happens between the younger teens, and when all is forgiven, they are quickly reminded of Steve’s injuries. 

He was the last one out, and he’s still laying on the mattress breathing heavily, face scrunched up in pain. Everyone jumps into action. Eddie grabs paper towels and a bottle of vodka from the kitchen, and Billy sits with Steve holding his hand. Robin is there too, trying to help Eddie disinfect her best friend's wounds. 

“Okay, now Stevie. This is gonna hurt.” 

Eddie warns, as he tilts the bottle downwards and the clear liquor comes spilling out. His cries of pain catch the attention of the rugrats, who come over to inspect. Dustin notices there's a fear in his eyes that doesn't quite match the mood. He grazes over Steve abdomen and chest, and notices two faint scars running along the underside of Steve’s pecs. 

He goes to poke at them, “Watch it, Henderson.” Billy says sternly, pushing his hand away, and Dustin is confused. “What are those, Steve?” He asks, worried. 

Now that Eddies is finished cleaning, he helps Steve sit up, “Look. I’ll tell you like I told Bill-” He’s cut off by Robin.

“He used to have tits, now he doesn’t.”

“Robs?!” 

“Sorry, Steve. They’re cool, though.”

He looks around the room, seeing confused, yet understanding faces, “Wait. So..  How did you and Nancy… If you don’t…”

“If I don’t have a dick? Yeah, that was pretty awkward but… We figured it out.” 

He says winking, and the mentioned girl's face blushes bright red. He the younger teens’ faces scrunch up in disgust. 

The moment passes, and it’s daytime. Steve, draped over both Billy and Eddie, wakes up first. He pats the peaceful faces of his boys. He hauls himself off the floor, carefully stepping over the rest of the people who slept at Eddies. Which was all of them.

Steve rummages through Eddie’s kitchen, cheering when he finds a small box of pancake mix. He steals a pan, and begins cooking.

“What a house husband you are, Steve.” 

Robin says, effectively scaring the shit out of him, he turns, clutching his chest. “Jesus Rob. When are you going to learn not to sneak up on someone who just almost died?” He teases, and she rolls her eyes. 

Grabbing a pancake and shoving it in her mouth without any syrup or toppings she goes to sit at the small kitchen table.

“So. What’s up with you and Eddie, and Billy?” 

She hums with her mouth full, crumbs falling out.

Steve’s face twists up in disgust at his friend's bad manners, and he shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. I just. I feel better when I’m around them. Like I can be myself.”

“I think we completely agree, Prettyboy,” Billy’s voice sounds from behind him, turning he sees Billy and Eddie standing there.

“Why’d you leave, you were keeping me warm,” Eddie says dramatically, draping himself over Steve’s shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek. Steve turns bright red, and Robin takes this as her que to get out of there. 

Her chair scrapes the floor and Billy wastes no time putting himself in it as soon as she gets up. Eddie pulls Steve out of his own chair, sits down and pulls Steve gently into his lap. 

“We gotta talk.” Eddie starts, and Steve taps his fingers nervously against the table. “I don’t quite know… I just, you guys feel right.” He tells them, and he feels Eddie nodding as his hair brushes Steve’s back. He shifts to face him, “You’d be okay… Dating me and Billy?” He asks timidly. 

Billy flashes a charming smile at both of them,”C’mon. Who wouldn’t wanna go out with all this,” He says gesturing to his body. Which, honestly, doesn't look that good after months of being in another dimension. 

Eddie chuckles, chest rumbling against Steve’s rib cage as he leans against him. “I would love to date both of you. If you’ll have me.” He says, polite as always. 

With that statement, Steve presses a kiss against his lips. 

With a sigh he says, “I’ve been wanting to do that since you threatened me with a broken bottle.” He sinks further into his boyfriend's chest. Billy’s face contorts, “I feel like I missed something. But that doesn’t matter, both of you get over here and gimme your lips.” He demands.

Scrambling up, Steve reaches him first, diving into a deep kiss, moaning as Billy’s strong hands make his way to his hair tugging on it gently. 

He feels Eddie press behind them and Steve moves his head down to Billy’s collar bones, pressing soft smooches there, as Billy and Eddie lock lips above him.

He feels secure. 

He feels loved.

But the moment is ruined by demon child Dustin screeching, “Don’t go in the kitchen!”

They pull away from each other, disappointed but hopeful for the future.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #eddie munson #soft steve #trans steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve x billy #eddie x billy #Steve x Eddie x billy #harmungrove #steddie #harringrove #billy lives #best friend robin #robin buckley #stranger things #polyamarous

[mother-shipper]

Idk if it's hormones because shot day or what but I am in angst mode. 😬

What if Billy lived? And what if he had the opportunity to find his mom?

Steve's tired of Hawkins and all the bad memories/trauma that lives there now. He wants a fresh start.

Eddie wants to make music and if you wanna get discovered you have to be in LA.

So the beamer gets traded in for a van, the three of them pile in and this begins the cross country road trip. They make it a whole road trip experience, stopping at national parks and little tourist traps like the world's largest ball of yarn, trying new foods in every state they go through, buying bumper stickers at every stop and plastering the van with them. Every day is new and exciting and every night, they curl up together on a mattress in the back.

It's freedom. It's an adventure. It's home.

They finally make it to Cali and the first stop is Billy's mom's. He tells them he wants to do this alone. He has to face her on his own. Steve and Eddie reassure him they'll be there, parked and waiting if he needs them.

Far too soon, the back door of the van is flung open and Billy is throwing himself inside.

"Go."

"Billy? What-"

"Just drive, Harrington!"

So they're back to Harrington. Steve grimaces, the name stinging in a way it hasn't in a very long time, but he starts the van and they pull off. Neither of them try to talk to Billy for a good 30 minutes, just letting him stew for a bit like he clearly wants.

Steve pulls off at a beach-side lot and Billy's almost immediately out the doors again, storming down to the sand. Eddie and Steve share a look and follow him all the way down to the water. They don't say anything. They just stand there with him, giving him whatever time he needs.

When Billy finally speaks, it's with a quiet anger.

"I have a sister," he snaps. "Brother too. Little bit younger than the twerps back home."

Steve and Eddie don't know quite how to respond to that or if he even wants them to. So they wait.

"Guess we know why she never even wrote me a god damn letter this whole time, huh! She was too busy with her new family! Finally got the good husband, two kids and a white picket fence so what the fuck does she need me for!"

Eddie reaches out, placing a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Oh, Bills."

Billy shrugs the hand off harshly.

"No! It's fine. I'm fine! Because you know what? I made it this far without her! There's nothing she can give me that I can't give myself! I put up with Neil way longer than she ever could! I survived that without her! I survived this," he lays a hand over his chest right where his shirt hides a starburst scar, "without her! So who needs her?! I'm fine!"

Eddie and Steve know better though. They know Billy's hurting. It's only a matter of time until the hurt breaks through that protective anger. And it does. Billy's face cracks, his eyes well up and he chokes on a sob.

"Why didn't either of my parents want me? What did I do that was so bad?"

Eddie and Steve move in, enveloping him in their arms and showering him with love as he falls to pieces. They let him know that they want him and that they're going to be there to help him pick up the pieces.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #angst #road trip #billy lives #mommy issues #harringroveson

[chronicrabbit]

Ok, here’s my thing.

I don’t think Eddie and Billy would’ve been friends as is.

Similar music taste isn’t enough to bridge that gap.

But I /do/ think if Billy survived season 3 and got his chance to heal and improve himself, they could’ve gotten there eventually.

Billy spends months in the hospital, doped up on pain killers.

Max is there, or course. She brings her walkman and Billy’s tapes so he can have something to ease the mind numbing boredom.

They work hard to form some sort of sibling bond.

It’s not easy, but they do it.

It’s hard to avoid after going through something Upside Down related.

By the time he’s well enough to go home, Neil is already out of the picture.

They move to Forest Hills, into the trailer right across from the Munson’s.

Billy refuses Max’s offer of the second bedroom.

He takes the couch, carves out a space for himself in the cramped living room.

His attitude is still shitty, he’s still rude and angry and hard to talk to, but he isn’t mean for the sake of mean-ness.

His chronic pain dulls the need to swing a punch. It hurts too much to try.

El takes to calling a good deal. She, Max, and Billy have conversations over Cerebro every week that seem to do something for him.

He doesn’t smile; not really.

But he’s noticeably less miserable after their talks.

Billy gets a job to help Susan with the bills.

He hides her booze and he gives her someone to be angry at over Neil, and eventually, after a lot of screaming and crying and really really rough nights, they find some common ground.

It’s a far cry from a mother and son relationship, but it’s something they both needed.

Fall of ‘85 rolls around, and Max is starting her Freshman year, Billy his Senior.

Billy doesn’t verbally offer to drive, just nods towards the car and climbs into the drivers side.

They’ve settled into an odd sort of push and pull.

Max starts a conversation tentatively, Billy answers, usually with grunts or non verbal cues.

The first time he answers back with more than one syllable, they’re on their way to pick up his pain meds.

Billy turns the volume on the radio up a notch, not blaring, just loud enough to appreciate the guitar solo.

“Is this Metallica?” Max prompts with a careful sideways glance.

Billy’s lips tilt upwards with a barely noticeable smile as he utters a soft:

“It’s the Scorpions, Shitbird.”

Max can’t help the smile that stretches across her face, because there he is.

He’s still Billy.

From that day on, there’s a noticeable shift in their dynamic.

Suddenly, they’re siblings. Real ones.

They aren’t soft and supportive like Will and Jonathan, or reluctantly close and annoying like Mike and Nancy.

They argue, they bitch, they hurl insults, they mock each other, But if anyone raises even a harsh word to the other, they’re right there to unleash hell upon the unlucky shmuck.

And that doesn’t just extend to Max; the entire party, weirdly, ends up under Billy’s prickly protection as well.

Entering into the school year, it only takes one run in with the ex Alpha of Hawkins High for the jocks and would be bullies to get the message:

“These nerds are OFF LIMITS.”

From an outsiders perspective, the groups strangeness is undeniable, strangeness that attracts one Eddie Munson, collector of oddities.

Eddie, clocking the Weird Al tee, the nerdy speech, and general dorky vibe of the entire party, immediately swoops in and takes them under his wing.

Mind, he was never friends with Billy. He’d hardly spoken to him past the typical:

“You got the stuff?”

“You got the cash?”

But Billy had never given him too much trouble.

He’d known better than to antagonize Hawkins High’s one and only dealer.

But Eddie could tell he’d changed since the Mall fire of ‘85. He was quieter, broodier, and all around… less.

He didn’t strut the halls like he used to; like a caged lion, hungry for a meal.

He kept mostly to himself.

Took notes and worked quietly in class, ate lunch in his car with Max and, very occasionally and confusingly, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler.

Eddie had even spotted him talking with Steve Harrington, once.

Talking, not peacocking, posturing, or punching as he would’ve expected.

Eddie was nosy by nature. Call it a character flaw, but when he saw something that puzzled him, he needed to get his hands on it; to work it, piece it together, and figure it out.

Billy Hargrove was a 200 piece puzzle with no picture, and he was determined to put it together.

He starts small, bringing Billy up in passing during cleanup post-Hellfire, trying his best to sound casual, though given the look from Gareth he assumes it wasn’t quite there.

“So… Hargrove. What’s his deal?”

Ok.

Subtlety was not his forte.

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas share significant looks, looks tinged with uncertainty and secrecy and Eddie is itching for a piece of this puzzle.

“What do you mean?” Dustin asks robotically.

“What do I mean?” Eddie repeats with a scoff.

“You’ve got the California Keg King as a personal guard dog, and you ask me what do I mean.”

Another glance is shared between the three, this one a bit more… wary.

Interesting.

“My, uh, girlfriend is his sister,” Lucas shrugs as if this is somehow answer enough.

Not even close.

“No, I get that,” Eddie nods, because he knows Red is his stepsister. He’d overheard Billy bitching endlessly about her in the year prior.

Now they’re not only tolerant of each other but attached at the hip?

“Level with me,” Eddie requests, leaning against the arm of his throne.

“Is this to do with the fire?”

That question garners an interesting reaction; shifting eyes and nervous shuffling.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Eddie loved being right.

Mike, as usual, was the first to speak.

“We were there that night,” he says simply, and Eddie’s grin falls from his face.

He lowers himself into his seat and nods slowly for him to continue.

“One of our friends was injured, so Billy…”

He hesitates, brow pinched and nose wrinkled as if he’s reliving the memory.

“Billy saved her,” Lucas finishes for him, looking markedly uncomfortable at the topic.

“Got badly injured in the process.”

“So that’s why you’re all buddy buddy with him now?” Grant speaks up from the sidelines.

“We’re not buddy buddy,” Lucas scoffs, crossing his arms.

“We tolerate each other due to shared trauma., but we’re not friends.”

Jeff nods grimly at Lucas’s words with an understanding Eddie couldn’t quite grasp if he’d tried.

The conversation ended there as they walked to the lot.

A single puzzle piece in place with 199 to go.

‘Maybe two pieces,’ Eddie thinks as he watches the three of them approach a blue Camaro, Hargrove and Mayfield leaning against the hood.

His joy at piecing together more of the mystery dies as Steve Harrington’s BMW pulls up beside them, the boys climbing into it instead.

‘What the fuck?’

#stranger things fic #billy hargrove #billy lives #Eddie Munson #stranger things ficlet #billy hargrove deserved better

[prettyboybillyhargrove]

Billy and Steve finally opening up to kids. Tell them they're dating. And weirdly the kids are okay with it? Maybe because all the shit they been through and Billy actually sacrifice himself for them *he stayed 3 months in the hospital but he's fine now*

Anyways now they need to get to diner with kids because according to Billy there's no better way to give them free milkshake and fries to make them love him. But Steve knows the kids love Billy already. They make a deal to apologize to him and stop being sassy around him when Billy was still in coma. They did apologize and stop acting like kids so that's a win for Steve. But not for Billy apperantly because he's anxious as fuck about this simple dinner. He wears s button up shirt and Steve is pretty sure he never saw that before.

So when they sit on the table across from the kids watching them eat silently he slowly put his hands to Billy's shaking leg. Slowly caress his thighs. Pushing his hand closer and closer to his crotch, feel his erection slowly rising. Enjoying him trying desperately to hold his whimpers. Sweat slowly running down from his deliciously golden neck go his plump tits slowly. Steve swallow loudly while looking at him hungryly.

Then Max started coughing violently that's when he realized the kids are all stopped eating and looking at him disgustingly. "Dude I thought Billy was the weird one.", "Steve you're disgusting." "Ewwww"

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #the party kids #billy lives #because i said so #harringrove au #my aus #harringrove ficlet

[ames-fanfics117]

Okay, so. Just a lil fic idea. What if, like, in the whole 'everybody that is relatively well-liked lives' AU, Harringroveson happens and they adopt a kid some time in the future. But it turns out that the kid had some sort of connection with whole Hawkins Lab bs and somehow gets transported back in time to when all this shit started and now they have to awkwardly navigate it all while trying their darndest not to call Steve 'Ma' and Billy 'Dad' and Eddie 'Papa'. Bonus points if they accidentally call them those things and now have to very awkwardly explain who they are how they managed to get there and hope that the three believe them.

Yup- Don't mind me. Just drafting up a fic-

#billy x steve #stranger things #harringrove #harringroveson #steddie #time travel #ronance #whatever the fuck argylexjonathan is called #argyle #argyle x jonathan #erica sinclair #eddie lives #billy lives

[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 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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#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #reader insert #imagine #x reader #billy x reader #billy fic #billy lives #billy x steve #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove redemption #billy harringrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #steve harrington #stranger than fiction #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #nancy x jonathan #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #will byres #william hargrove #mike wheeler #max mayfield #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #stranger things imagine #stranger things

[hemlocksandfoxgloves]

Harringrove Prompt

What if Steve was the one to die? What if Steve pushed Billy out of the way and the monster killed Steve? What if Billy and Steve were already in love and were planning to leave Hawkins together after he graduated? What if Billy apologized to everybody and became closer to Max? What if Billy becomes depressed about losing Steve and gets targeted by Vecna? What if Billy finds Steve in the Upside Down? What if Billy gets Steve out of the Upside Down, but just as they’re about to pass, Billy has an episode and it freaks Steve out?

#what if #harringrove #steve x billy #billy lives #steve dies #fic prompt #stranger things #stranger things 4

[prettybillycore]

Cigarettes and Strawberries || Billy Hargrove x Harrington!Reader

Summary:

Prompt #114; Aromatherapy. Describe a place by its smell, scent, odor, or stench.

Soft, comforting fluff of your first "I love you" with Billy Hargrove.

Pairing(s): Billy Hargrove x Harrington!Reader

Word Count: 0.3k

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of Cigarettes

⬇️ Read on AO3 ⬇️

Or right here on Tumblr! ⬇️

The wind flew through your hair as you sped down the small backroad. The smells of leather and pine danced together. Billy’s hand rested on your thigh; your hand rested on top of his. 

You smelled like strawberries and chlorine.

He smelled like cigarettes and motor oil.

You looked over at him instead of the trees passing by your open window. His hair was blowing in the wind, much like your own. He had a soft smile on his lips. 

“Billy…” You said quietly as you played with the tips of his fingers. 

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I love you.”

The car slammed to a harsh halt. You would have flown from your seat if you hadn’t been wearing your seatbelt. You could smell the tires’ burning rubber. “What?”

“I love you, Billy Hargrove.”

He shook his head. “Don’t do that to me y/n. Don’t mess with me like that.”

You gently squeezed his hand. “I’m not messing with you, Billy. I love you. I will say over and over again until you believe me.”

The look of surprise and sadness in his features changed into a look of pure joy. “I love you too, y/n Harrington. I’ll be damned if your brother gets between us now. You’re mine for life” His lips softly met yours. He was usually much harsher than this, but at the moment, he was being as gentle as he could. Your senses are filled with the smells of smoke and gasoline. Your hands find their way to his hair, the smell of his shampoo strong and sweet. 

You broke the kiss because you were smiling too much. “Say it again, Billy.”

“Only if you say it first,” he teased.

You huffed. His nose was filled with the scent of your minty toothpaste. “Now you’re just being an ass.”

He laughed. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll say it. I love you.”

“Never stop saying it.”

#billy hargrove angst #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #billy x you #fanfiction #billy x reader #flash fiction #fluff #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove lives #billy lives #fix it fic #there i fixed it #stranger things #fanfic #also on ao3 #ao3 fanfic #please request #please send help #im actually crying #im sad #imagine #soft billy hargrove #first i love you #steve harrington

[liatieska]

Let's believe that somehow, someway, the gods decided Billy survived his encounter with the Mind Flayer.

Doctors are saying he won't last long, if at all, but he's awake. They tell his family they need to say goodbye now. Max is there in a heartbeat, followed by a sollum Susan. Neil doesn't arrive.

Billy is being tube fed and attached to all sorts of machines. The only thing keeping him together is the snitches in his chest and the bandages covering them. He's a dead man walking, for how long no one knows.

Max is crying, telling him she's sorry, she's so fucking sorry, she should have told him, warned him, been more attentive to him. She's shushed when Billy carefully takes her hand and squeezes it, however weakly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Maxine. I wish I was better to you." His eyes are blown, trembling weakly. It's so odd, seeing your previous asshole step-brother so weak, hair matted and frizzy.

"Promise me, Maxine, that if this shit continues you'll be careful. Promise me." Through strangled breaths Max nods.

"I promise, I promise Billy." Finally, he smiles, a small one, but it's there. She visits him every day, the psychic girl with her occasionally, sometimes her other friends.

He passes away in the night, holding Max's hand, two weeks after. Max cries when she wakes up, cries days later, then at his funeral, and for days onward.

Now she's here, baiting Vecna, and it isn't going well. He's caught her and she isn't hearing Kate Bush, God dammit Lucas. She's not ready to die, she promised Billy, she's not ready to go. Holding his hand out, Vecna goes to sink his disgusting fingers into her skin. Then there's a noise.

A bird, but that's strange. The only flying creature she knows of is those bats, but birds? It's a loud squawk, angry one it sounds like. It seems like Vecna is confused as well and Max watches as a second later, a large bird engulfed in flames slames into Vecna's side. It propels the man through a wall, away from Max.

She gasps, back in control of her own body. The flaming bird is huge, about 6 feet tall. It's staring down at her. Slowly, the figure morphs, and in a burst of flames he's standing before her. Billy.

"Hey, Shitbird."

"Billy!" She leaps into his arms, already having tears rolling down her cheeks. In the background, she heard the melody of Running Up That Hill.

"I thought you didn't like crying. Come on, we gotta go." He took her hand and pulled her through the house towards the music.

"Billy, Billy you have to come with me!" He looked down at her, a sad smile on his face.

"I can't. Not physically, anyway." He looked behind them before pulling off his necklace, replacing his hand with it. Max hiccuped..

"I'll be here for you, always, Max. I'm your shit older brother, remember?" Max could hear Lucas calling for her. A small laugh escaped her.

"I'm your shit younger sister." Billy smiled and ruffled her hair as she passed through to reality, gasping awake as Lucas held her close.

Enclosed in her hand was the guitar pic necklace.

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billy lives #canon divergence #pheonix #redemption arc #lucas sinclair #eleven #jane hopper #the party

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

It’s a different kind of fear, the cold prickles that settle deep into the lining of each of Robin’s organs. The world throbs around her like an echo, and her head aches — her whole body aches. Beaten and sore from all of the bullshit, all of the running around and fighting, and she’s tired. So tired.

But none of that matters. Not when that familiar chill fills the air and a sickly dread sucks the air out of her lungs.

Not when it’s Steve.

For a while now, all memory of the asshole she knew back in Click’s class has been forgotten. Pushed aside. Gathering dust. Replaced entirely by the goofy, snarky guy with piss-poor flirting skills that she’s grown to love. Because it’s just so easy to love him.

The dark, looming figure before her, standing at the back door to Hell itself with an axe clutched tight in his fist, is not either of those guys.

She didn’t think that Steve’s face could look so angry. So hateful.

“Stevie,” Billy tries, raising his hands slowly and reaching out. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with him?” Eddie breathes.

Clutches a hand over his abdomen, crimson seeping between each of his fingers and dripping down his chin. It’s staining Robin’s clothes from where she’s tucked under his arm, supporting his weight, but she ignores it. Watches carefully as Steve stands to his full height and steps off of the mattress with a creak.

“It’s the Mind-Flayer,” Robin manages. Takes a careful step back towards the door. “It has to be, right?”

“Steve, you have to fight it, do you hear me?” Billy says.

He dares to step closer. Extends his hands further, disregarding the rapid rise and fall of the brunet’s chest and the tightness of his jaw.

Even next to Billy, Steve suddenly seems to tower over everything. Suddenly seems so scary that Robin has to force herself to keep her eyes on him as they well with tears.

With a quick motion, he rears the axe back and takes a deadly swing, the handle catching in Billy’s grip with a painful thunk.

“Please, Steve—“

A left hook cracks across Billy’s jaw and sends him crashing to the floor.

“You think your pathetic ass stands a chance, Hargrove?” Steve hisses. Plunges the axe down and misses when Billy rolls out of the way, splitting the tile and letting go of the handle once and for all. “All of the pity fucks have really been going to your head, huh?”

He steps over the blond. Takes a fistful of his shirt and brings his knuckles down hard on the bridge of his nose. Snaps the cartilage and makes Robin sick to her stomach.

“Don’t listen, Bill,” Eddie rasps. “That’s not him.”

“Get out of here,” Billy pleads.

Catches another sock to the face and spits a mixture of blood and bile onto the floor.

“No.”

“We can’t leave you,” Robin protests.

“Get the fuck out and go find Nancy. Now.”

One more crack rips through the air and Robin has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting, turning her face away from the gruesome display in front of her. It takes Eddie pulling her towards the doorway to make her head stop spinning.

“They always leave in the end, don’t they?” Steve muses. “Don’t worry, Billy bug, you still have me.”

He catches the fist that Billy tries to swing at him and drops to his knees, right over Billy’s chest, and pins his arms to the floor with an unforgiving grip.

“Fuck you.”

“Mm, I think I’ll pass. You’re not really my type.”

“I swear, when I get my hands around that slimy, disgusting neck of yours, I’m gonna wring it ‘till your fuckin’ eyes pop.”

The sickly smirk that splits across Steve’s face is almost inhuman. He leans down. Collects both of Billy’s wrists in one hand, pins them above his head, and lightly traces the cut of his jaw with his free hand. Almost lovingly.

Thunder roars in the distance. Billy can faintly hear the screeches coming from within the gate just a few feet away, and something else. Behind him.

The scrape of gravel and screaming voices — Dustin and Erica. All of the words are muddled in the background. Unintelligible.

“Y’know something, love?” Steve coos. So close that the cold puff of air on Billy’s cheek spawns goosebumps on his skin. “I still love Nance.”

“Bullshit.”

A hand wraps around his throat and he chokes as his windpipe is smashed between the tile and Steve’s unnaturally cold palm.

“It’s true. You’re nothing but a rebound that never got the hint to get out of my bed the morning after.”

“No,” Billy rasps. “You— you love me. You love Eddie. You say it so much that I almost get sick of hearing it, Stevie.”

“Y’know, now that you mention it…” The grip tightens around his throat. Makes Billy’s eyes burn as Steve’s lips brush against his ear. “Eddie’s my favorite. He at least has a purpose in this world, but you?” Fire spreads in his throat as he writhes helplessly. “Your only purpose is to die.”

“Steve— Steve would never say that.”

“Die believing a lie if you want, Hargrove. Save Eddie a spot, will you? I’ll be coming for him next.”

Black starts to overtake his vision, tunneling around the sadistic grin that looms over him. It’s funny because Billy still can’t help but think that Steve is beautiful. That he’ll be glad to see him soon, wherever he goes next. The real him.

There’s a click, and then a boom, and Billy’s lungs fill again.

Steve has fallen back. Clutches at his shoulder weakly, blood spurting between his fingers as he fixes a glare at the door.

Standing in the open doorway is Nancy Wheeler, revolver in her grip. The look on her face says that was a warning shot.

“You’re an idiot if you think we’ll let that asshole take you, Steve.” She pulls the hammer back with a click. Sets her jaw and furrows her brows. “Now come back to us.”

#robin buckley #steve harrington #billy hargrove #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #tw blood #tw verbal abuse #tw near death #implied steddilly #harringroveson #stranger things au #shifting povs #flayed!steve #billy lives #eddie lives #drabble #ficlet #my writing #angsty fic #I just wanted an excuse to write Steve scary asf #nancy is a girlboss #this takes place right before the ‘2 days later’ skip :) #I couldn’t be bothered to edit or proofread so just pretend like you like it okay? okay