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hexiewrites · 2 years

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It’s not the first time Steve has to call an ambulance that does it.

The first time he’s fucking terrified, coming home from a long shift at the new Blockbuster down the street and dinner after with a coworker only to find his boyfriend, passed out on the floor of their shared apartment. He panics, at first, because what the fuck is he supposed to do, and then he gets it together and calls 911. The paramedics won’t let him in the ambulance so he follows behind in the beamer, white knuckles the steering wheel, all the way to the hospital. They won’t let him go all the way in and he paces for hours in the waiting room, drinking shitty hospital cafeteria coffee, before the nurse finally tells him where to go.

And the thing is. The thing is it makes sense. Eddie’s been struggling since the Upside Down. So has Steve, to be honest. They’ve both been crashing, different vices, different issues. So the first time he has to call the ambulance, he gets it. It makes sense, even though it hurts. Sometimes things happen, and Steve can’t fault Eddie for one night of too many goddamn whiskeys. Hell, he’s come pretty close to that point himself, more times than he can count lately. He makes a promise to himself to be better, to be there when Eddie needs him.

To be enough.

It’s not the second time he calls the ambulance that does it either, because as much as that one hurts, it still makes sense. Eddie on the ground gives his brain Eddie in the Upside Down, broken and bleeding and almost fucking dead and Steve calls the ambulance but he chugs a beer back before he follows in the beamer. And fuck, they’ve been through it, haven’t they? Eddie’s been trying but of course it’s going to be hard. People make mistakes and god knows Steve’s made his own, so who is he to do anything but try. Try harder to make Eddie see he doesn’t need this shit. To make him see that Steve loves him so much, loves him enough for both of them, loves him enough to get them through it. So that’s what he does.

He tries, even though he’s failing too. There’s beer in the house and he gets it, now. How much it helps to keep the noise down.

They’ve been fighting about it, even though they don’t have much else they fight about.

So of course he gets it.

The third time he has to call hurts even more. Of course it does, it screams Eddie’s failing and you’re failing and why can’t you be good enough, why can’t you love him enough to fix it. But the hurt is washed over by anger because how can he keep doing this after everything they’ve been through? Hours of meetings together. Weeks of Eddie off in rehab. Whispered promises that it’s done, it’s over. You can’t beat addiction but you can control it. They can focus on them. Maybe start that family they keep talking about. It’s behind them now. It was supposed to be behind them.

But it’s not even the third time, because the third time when Eddie wakes up he looks devastated but he still manages a smile. Still manages to say, voice rough because of the intubation, third time’s the charm, right baby? And- the average addict relapses four times, but I’ve always been below average, huh? I can feel it. This is gonna be my year.

And Steve’s not perfect either. He’s doing better, yeah, he’s putting in the work, but he’s not perfect. He’s better though. He’s been better because he’s been trying. He’s still trying because he keeps picturing Eddie, baby on his hip, cooing and giggling. Picturing them curled up at forty, at fifty, at eighty. Looking back and saying wow, we were fucked up then but we had each other. We got through it together like we always did. So the third time hurts. It pisses him off. But he’s still holding that picture in his mind, despite it fraying at the edges just a bit.

But the fourth time, when it should all be behind them because it had been better, they’d been better, when he comes home and finds Eddie on the floor, broken bottle next to him, needle still in his arm…

Well. Fourth time’s the fucking charm for him.

He calls the ambulance, watches Eddie get loaded in, feels the tears drying onto his cheeks. One of the paramedics knows him from the last time and gives him this sad smile. Says “we got him soon enough, think he’s gonna be okay. He’s lucky, your boy, but even cats only get nine lives.” Steve shuts the ambulance door and doesn’t get in his car to follow. He heads back up the stairs, cleans up the vomit, and starts to pack.

He puts his most important things in the beamer, leaves the rest. Doesn’t leave a note because he doesn’t know what to say. Calls the hospital before he goes because he has to know—Eddie’s awake and asking for him.

He drives to a liquor store instead. Drives until he can’t anymore and checks into a motel halfway between Chicago and Hawkins.

Thinks about his blue two year chip (sitting on his nightstand in the apartment, one of the things not precious enough to bring) as he twists open the bottle, and finally finally finally lets the sweet relief of whiskey burn through his throat.

He’ll regret it tomorrow, but tonight? It’s the only thing he has left.

Steve doesn’t go back to Chicago for nearly four years. He thought about it. Thinks about it. Constantly. He knows that Eddie’s alive because Dustin kept in touch, will give him a little knowing nod every time they see each other (rare, these days, as Steve barrels towards thirty and the kids finish university, get jobs across the country, try to make it home for Christmas and don’t always succeed). He never asks for more because it’s too hard to hear. Dustin tells him, one day, that Eddie’s doing really well now. Steve doesn’t know if he can believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it, because if Eddie’s doing well now without him it means he’s the problem he’s the reason he—he calls his therapist and puts in the fucking work.

He stays in Hawkins. Faces his demons, mostly metaphorical now. Spends a lot of time with Hopper, who gets it more than almost anyone but still wants better for him. Spends hours on the phone with Robin, who begs him to go back into the real world but he can’t, because it hurts too much. Takes enough correspondence classes to get an associate’s degree. Starts driving to the community college a few towns over for classes and upgrades to a Bachelors of Psychology, and starts to understand himself and Eddie and trauma, and things start to hurt a little less. He doesn't drink anymore, goes to meetings with as much regularity as he can, and when he’s finally got a new two year chip in his hands he thinks he might be ready. It hurts like an old wound, twinging in the rain but mostly fine, and he thinks he could maybe handle Chicago again.

He still doesn’t go.

At the end of the day, it’s the acceptance letter into the Masters of Educational Counselling program at the University of Illinois that does it. He honestly hadn’t been expecting to get in, it’s a competitive program and Steve Harrington who barely graduated high school doesn’t exactly scream school counsellor material. But his essay was good, he knows it was. And he knows he’s going to be good at this.

So he packs up the beamer, again. Pulls over to sleep in a tent on the side of the road and calls Hopper from a payphone, sobbing because he can’t do it.

He does it anyway.

He gets to Chicago and his apartment’s on the opposite side of town now but the first time he drives past the hospital again he has a breakdown so bad he almost goes home. But he’s been putting in the work, and he’s doing more than trying now. He’s solid, he’s stable, and he pulls himself together. He calls Hopper and Robin, he goes to meetings, he’s doing well.

He’s studying in a coffee shop, down the street from his apartment, when the open mic starts.

“Hi everyone,” says a voice that Steve would recognize from a hundred miles away. He forces himself to look and Eddie’s on the little stage, an acoustic guitar in hand. "Thanks for being here with me today. I've got some new stuff for y'all that I think you're going to like."

And then he plays. Steve gives up on his work, leans back in the chair, and watches. Eddie looks... he looks good. Better than he had when Steve was around. His hair's still long but it's curly and bouncy, and his skin is bright and alive in the way an addict's never is. His fingers skip, sure and strong, over the frets and his voice is that same melody Steve has never let himself forget, with this almost bluegrass twang that makes Steve's heart ache. He’s playing different music, and he’s shining like he’s made of gold in the late afternoon sun.

There's something about it, about watching Eddie, that feels a bit like healing. Eddie had always loved to play, but the music scene he was in had broken him before, not fixed him. He'd always wanted to make more of his own music, and here it is and it's good. The songs are catchy, straddling his blues/folk upbringing and his rock/metal lifestyle.

And then Eddie finishes a song, maybe his sixth, and his eyes scan the crowd and Steve feels when they land on him. He feels the way the whole room runs out of air, all at once, and Eddie is totally frozen for a full minute. Steve's heart is beating a million miles an hour-he wants to get up, he wants to run, but he's frozen to the seat. Pinned by Eddie's gaze.

And he knows he's been doing better, he has, but nothing was ever as good as it could have been because this is what he was missing.

"I've got," Eddie finally says, and has to stop and clear his throat. "I've got one more song for you." He's talking to the audience, but he never looks away from Steve, and the room has narrowed so much it might as well only be only the two of them there. "This one's about the one I chased away."

Steve pays attention to the lyrics and his heart breaks half a dozen times. Eddie sings about hating himself, about Steve hating him, about how the thing that tore them apart is the thing Eddie will never touch again, how the hatred is what drove him to be better. He sings about forgiveness and healing and when he finishes the coffee shop claps, Eddie waves, and the spotlight cuts.

It isn't even a conscious decision, but Steve finds himself walking up to the stage. Eddie turns away from where he's put the guitar away, their eyes meet again and it feels like coming home.

"I don't hate you," Steve whispers, because he's forgotten how to speak. "I never could."

"I'd understand if you would," Eddie says, and he's stepping closer. They're a foot apart now, eyes locked, and Steve's hands are shaking.

"I've been, uh, working really hard on myself." Steve admits, and he can't help himself. He lifts a hand and tucks a curl behind one of Eddie's ears. "I... I think about you all the time."

Eddie grins, and leans into his touch. "Me too," he murmurs, and drags his thumb over Steve's cheekbone. "I've been putting in the fuckin' work, Steve. And it's not easy, and I'm not perfect. I can't ever promise you perfect. But I'm three years sober, and I think I'm worth it, now. I think you're worth my love and I think I'm worth yours."

"I put in the fuckin work too," Steve mumbles, and he tips his head forwards so their foreheads hit.

When they're forty, they look back on this moment and grin at how little they knew. How much they believed their love would be enough, because the first time it wasn't. But this time, now that they've grown, that they've put in the fucking work?

This time, it's enough.

Eddie looks good with babies on his hips. Steve loves him more every day. They look back at forty, at fifty, at eighty, and they know their love could only have existed because they broke it, and learned by themselves how to fix it. It still hurts sometimes, aches like an old wound, but all Steve needs to do is to squeeze Eddie's hand, to feel his heart beating, and he knows:

He wouldn't trade what they have for the world.

(click here to read Eddie’s version, by the incredibly talented @riality-check !)

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runninguplenorahills · 8 months

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I didn't care much how long I lived

#this is also actually from may lmao #but i only finished it recently #mike wheeler #mike wheeler fanart #stranger things #stranger things fanart #byler #byler fanart #tw blood #trigger warning blood #tw: blood #cw blood #cw: blood #content warning blood #i gotta be honest i very much wanted to post this when the tag was being weird about mike and the possibility of him getting a vecna vision #just to piss people off habwndhwnwjdhe #but i forgor #lenora’s stranger things art

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darnell-la · 3 months

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True rumors - Eddie Munson

pairing: dark!bully!toxiceddie munson x toxic reader

warning: eddie is the bad guy, sa, hair pulling, dominating, rough sex, crying, begging, etc.

note: don’t read this story if you do not like anything to do with assault!!

WE DO NOT CONSENT FOR COPIES OF OUR STORIES!

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3rd person pov

“Why the fuck would you tell the school I fuckin’ assaulted you!?” Eddie had angrily approached y/n in the empty hallway. “Why did you tell the school you fucked me?” Y/n snapped back, making him roll his eyes.

“So this is what this is about? Couldn’t you just come to me and confront me instead of trying to ruin my reputation?” Eddie asked, trying to out himself as the victim but y/n knows what kind of man he is.

Yes, Eddie is the freak of Hawkins, but he’s not a freak you can just bully and give away with. He comes back for you. He fights back. He talks back. He’s like the bully in a freak form.

“You tried ruining mine first,” y/n said, making him chuckle. “Oh, so you’re like the rest. You think sleeping around with the freak will ruin your life?” He asked, but that’s not it. “No, I think sleeping around with random people will ruin how I feel about myself,” y/n said before shutting her locker and walking off.

“I’m not random, and I don’t think it’s too bad if we ever fuck. But I won’t accept until you get rid of your rumor,” Eddie said, making y/n laugh as he stalked behind her. “I don’t want to fuck you, Eddie. Especially after knowing what kind of man you really are,” she said.

“And what is that? It was clearly a joke, but not you’re so sensitive and preppy,” Eddie spat. “You’re telling people I fucked you, Eddie. That’s my body. It’s not sensitivity,” y/n has stopped and turned towards him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess,” Eddie said. Y/n rolled her eyes as she turned around and walked away. “Tell them you lied and maybe I’ll do the same!” Eddie shouted before he walked off as well.

“Is it true? Did the freak actually touch on you?” A girl from school asked y/n as the groups surrounded her to gossip. “No, but he lied about having sex with me, so I gave him a taste of his own medicine,” Y/n said, making the girls agree with her actions.

“Good, because he’s weird anyway. I’ve seen the way he stalks you and like, I don’t know if I should say this, but like, I’ve heard he pushes you around and like tried to talk you into getting either him,” a girl said. “He must be desperate,” another one said.

“Yeah, I told Jason about that after he pushed Eddie off of me at homecoming in the halls. He kept begging for a dance then a kiss and Jason saw so he pushed him away from me,” y/n told the girls, not feeling bad about anything she was telling them.

“He’s so fuckin’ sick,” a new girl said. “Yeah, he very much is,” y/n said as she left with everyone around her before she carried on her night with drinks and maybe a few hits from her friends.

“Where is she!?” Y/n heard a familiar voice shout throughout the party. “I don’t know man,” some dude at the school replied. “Where the fuck is she!?” The familiar voice shouts again as y/n looks in the direction.

“Shit! I gotta go,” y/n said to her friends before running through the ground. “Don’t you fuckin dare!” Eddie shouted as he spotted y/n running towards the back door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/n stressed as she made it to the door.

Y/n ran around the house party, passing people trying to talk to her, but she didn’t have time. She can’t confront Eddie right now. Especially not alone.

Y/n made it to her car and locked the door, knowing Eddie would probably get to her before she had the chance to take off.

“You bitch! You fuckin’ told people about that night!? I beat Jason just so he could keep his mouth shut, but you had to fuck yourself. You had to fuck me!” Eddie grew angry, knowing how everything he did looked bad.

“Look, Eds — If you didn’t do it, you’d be fine, but you did. You can’t be angry at something you did,” y/n said as she started her car. “Ima gonna ruin you, bitch,” Eddie growled in a voice she’d never heard before.

Y/n quickly backed up and pulled off to her dorms. She can’t be here anymore, and Eddie has totally lost himself. She might have to report him now that he’s showing signs of aggression.

Y/n safely made it back to her dorm room after a scary ride home. Usually, she waits for the alcohol to wear off completely. She was even going to stay over the house like some of her friends, but Eddie ruined that for her.

Y/n had taken a shower and gotten relaxed on her bed after her long day. She can still feel the alcohol in her system so she took a few pills to make her sleep better and stop her headache.

What she didn’t know was that Eddie had sat outside her dorm apartment for a couple of hours, thinking of what he wasn’t about to do.

He’s lost himself. Y/n has always played this preppy girl in school, and he hates those kinds of girls. But for some reason, he couldn’t hate y/n.

No matter how many times she’s pissed him off, he couldn’t get rid of the desire and obsession over her. Usually by any other girl, he would’ve walked passed them like he never knew them, but y/n — He can’t do it.

Eddie’s now speeding towards the from of her apartment building doors to do something he wouldn’t even regret. He thought for too long. He’s stalked y/n for so long. He’s hit on y/n for too long. It’s time to put things into action.

Y/n is currently knocked asleep. She’s so deep into her sleep that she doesn’t even hear Eddie burst into her room.

Eddie had realized that and gone quiet. He shut and locked Y/n’s door before quietly getting undressed. The beer and weed are still in his system as he stalks towards y/n sleeping body.

“Sleeping beauty doesn’t know what’s coming,” Eddie said, admiring y/n. He can’t wait to ruin her. “Alright, princess! Time to wake up,” Eddie said as he grabbed y/n, causing her to wake up.

“What the- Hey? Hey! Eddie-“ y/n realized Eddie had snuck into her room. “Save your crying, princes. No one's gonna hear you,” Eddie said as he tugged on the panicked girl's clothes.

That’s when she realized Eddie was undressed. “Eddie, get off of me!” Y/n yelled, hoping he’d see how scared she was, but he liked watching her like this. “I don’t think so, baby,” Eddie climbed on top of y/n as he turned her on her stomach.

“You’re gonna lay here and take every fuckin’ inch I give your ungrateful ass, okay? If you fight or disobey me, I’ll hurt you, and you don’t want me to hurt you, right princess? Your face is too pretty for that,” Eddie gripped a handful of y/n’s hair to look down at her face.

“Yeah, cry! Cry this one out, because I’m not holding back,” Eddie said before he ripped y/n’s cheap panties right off of her. “No!” Y/n yelled, hoping to be loud enough but Eddie pushed her face into her pillow, rejecting her cries for help.

Without wasting any time, Eddie pushed right into y/n, making sure to fill her with every inch of his huge cock. He knows he’s huge, and he’s gonna give it all to her, whether it’s what she wants or not.

“Fucking’ hell, baby. You hear that?” Eddie asked as he began to pound into the girl's now wet cunt. “Yeah, I fuckin’ know. I knew you loved being stuffed by random guys,” Eddie chuckled as a knot built up in her stomach.

“Look at the bright side, princess. At least the rumors you told about me are true now,” Eddie said before bursting into an evil laugh. “And Ima cum in you. Let’s see if that rumor goes around you slutty bitch,” Eddie said before slamming into y/n, causing everything to go dark right before she came all over him and her bed.

#18+#18+ content #18+ fic #18+ minors dni #18+ only #18+ post #smut #pure smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #dark!eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #trigger warning #mean!eddie munson #toxicity #cnc k!nk

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slashify · 1 year

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Billy is a bad person and if reading about that is going to drive you to be a jerk to a stranger on the internet you should skip this one.

This one requires a suspension of disbelief, but one time I was watching a show with my dad and he started questioning that school wasn’t cancelled when a corpse was found in the locker room and I said Dad, we’re watching BUFFY the VAMPIRE SLAYER and you’re concerned with realism? And I figure Stranger Things is the same. So.

I have a headcanon that in between seasons 2 and 3, Tommy H. and Billy cornered Eddie in the bathroom and literally drowned him in a toilet. Steve entered the bathroom just in time to see Eddie stop thrashing, and he pulled him out and gave him CPR.

Tommy ran off, terrified he’d killed someone, but Billy stared with an unsettling grin on his face until Steve screamed at him to get out when Eddie started coughing up water.

Munson isn’t one of Max’s friends, but Harrington certainly is, and Billy remembers what Max said, remembers the needle in his neck and the helplessness when she slammed that damn bat down between his legs. So he spits on the tile beneath him and leaves Harrington with a smirk.

Steve had wanted to tell Hopper, but Eddie asked him not to.

‘Believe it or not,’ Eddie coughs out, ‘I’m not on the best terms with the chief, man. Not surprised you don’t remember I got busted at one of your stupid parties. It’s their word against mine. Hagan’s parents paid for the new basketball court. Hargrove is a piece of shit, but he is the new king. And I think we both know what they say about me.’

Steve realizes he’s got his arms wrapped around Munson, from when he helped him sit up. Their faces are so close together. Eddie had tasted like peanut butter when Steve had given him mouth to mouth. He tries not to think about the toilet water of it all. The janitor’s name is Mr. Pasco. Steve had apologized to him for the sawdust he’d had to spread out when Steve had come back to school with the nausea of a concussion. He had been nice, and showed a certain pride in his job. He hopes Mr. Pasco had cleaned these toilets thoroughly.

‘Your word and mine.’ He says quietly. He doesn’t know why he’s being quiet.

Eddie scoffs. Coughs twice.

‘You’re gonna go to court for me? King Steve?’ He flops the back of his hand against his forehead, nearly taking Steve out in the process, ‘What WILL the neighbors think?!’ He sags in Steve’s arms. Steve holds him tighter. Eddie coughs a little more.

‘They’ll think that Billy’s a homicidal asshole and that Tommy will go along with anybody who’s popular enough to make up for his dogshit personality.’

Eddie breathes in sharply, then leans down to cough over the bend in Steve’s elbow. Steve rubs circles into the patch on the back of his denim vest.

***

Okay, so this turned into a whole fic, and there’s more! Let me know if you’re interested in reading more of this, please!

#attempted murder #drowning #bullying #vomit mention #needle mention #hurt/comfort #steve harrington #eddie munson #steveddie #stranger things #anti billy hargrove #Billy is his own trigger warning #steddie

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toolazytocare · 2 years

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hi! I was wondering if you'd consider making another list of triggers for stranger things 3 and 4? your list of the first two seasons really helped me :D

hello! first of all, sorry for the late reply! I rarely use tumblr these days.

I would love to make a list of triggers, unfortunately I haven’t actually watched season 3 or 4 of stranger things. I have been planning on watching season 3, but I’m not sure if season 4 is very doable for me since I personally hate horror. I would have to go very slow.

If I do watch either seasons I will try my best to make trigger warning lists again. I am very glad that after all these years it helped someone! :)

#stranger things trigger warning #stranger things #trigger warnings #ask

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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Since I’m on a roll, here’s another part I had fun with. Both this and the Steve-Goes-Into-The-Car-Blanket-fort scene are apart of Illustrated which is my lil Soulmate AU.

“The famed bedroom of King Steve. I feel like I should have made you work harder to get me in here. Rumors say you enjoy the chase after all." Munson drawls, as they walk down the hallway.

"Rumors say a lot of things, Munson. Most of it’s-" Steve stops, catches himself before he says the word bullshit and inflicts psychological damage on himself. "Stupid."

"Stupid." Eddie echoes, teasing lilt to his voice.

“Tommy once spent six weeks trying to convince last year's freshmen that Ms. Click is in a motorcycle gang.” Steve counters. “Went so far as to try and get the school’s journalist club to fake some pictures for him.”

“That explains the entire debate club's fixation with leather vests.” Eddie says triumphantly, looking like there’s a story he’s about to tackle (likely with many dramatics, because omelets seem to have somehow restored the guy’s energy) but stops dead as Steve swings his bedroom door open.

“Oh my god why is there so much plaid?” Eddie’s jaw drops, teasing forgotten entirely as they step into Steve’s room.

Who rolls his eyes. “Why does everyone always say that?”

“Because no one in their right mind has plaid walls, dude.” Munson blinks, dramatically staggering backwards like he’s been hit. “My eyes are being assaulted right now.”

Steve should be annoyed, but surprises himself when he finds he actually wants to laugh. “Does it help if I tell you I didn’t pick it?”

The look Eddie gives him almost makes him laugh anyway. “Who the hell did? Satan?”

“Close enough. My mom.” Steve turns to look at his room, imagining how someone like Eddie must see it.

Plaid walls, minimal décor, a bed that’s made (only because Steve’s mother drilled that habit into him) and hideous, matching curtains. The whole set was picked out of a catalog, right down to the stupid, framed car poster.

The only thing that shows any signs of life is his desk, which is covered in scraplets of paper, pens, a phone and random other objects.

(Steve’s favorite is a small stuffed penguin wearing a sailor costume. Robin had a matching one, a tribute to the way they had met. It would be the very first thing he’d grab in a fire, one of the very few possessions he owned that Steve truly treasures.)

“Ahh the fabled Mrs. Harrington. I thought she was made up.” Eddie says, finally entering the room. He explores it like something might pop out at him, and hell, Steve couldn’t blame him for that either.

“Yeah. She picked it out when she used to be here more. Before her and my dad fucked off to New York.”

“And you didn’t immediately renovate?”

This is the most expressive Steve’s seen Eddie in the last twenty four hours. Feels almost like he’s got the guy back to some semblance of a balanced mental state, which makes the part of Steve that loves caring for people unbelievably happy.

Steve shrugs. “Honestly, I never thought about it much.”

Doesn’t mention that these days he tries to spend the least amount of time he can inside his own home, instead bouncing between work, Dustin’s house, and any antics the kids or Robin had pulled him into.

Thinks vaguely that he and Robin may have actually slept in his living room more than his actual bedroom-or, him in her bed, considering how often he sneaks into her room.

A fact her parents would be furious about except they’re so painfully relieved that they’ve purposefully given Steve some grace. Something Robin hates and Steve does his best to distract her from.

“Yeah we’re gonna fix that.” Eddie spins slowly, looking all the way up like some bit of personality is hiding out on the ceiling. “Immediately.”

Digs around in one of his pockets, and pulls out a thick black Sharpie, before turning with it to give Steve a wild grin. “What do you say to a little home makeover?”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, before looking over his room once more. “You sure you don’t want a shower first” He asks, to buy himself time to think.

Has a feeling Munson can find the time to shower, nap and cause chaos, in equal amounts.

Sure enough, Eddie waves him off. “Don’t you worry about me, Steve-o, I think I can manage to figure out how to use your bathroom after giving this place a little art CPR.”

Screw it.

Will in fact, likely help Munson channel out whatever leftover emotion he had left into whatever horrors he drew upon Steve’s wallpaper, which at the very least, could always be removed later.

It’s not like his parents can get any more disappointed in him.

“Fine, just promise me no dicks.” He agrees, with a sigh.

Eddie cackles. “Don’t you worry man, just watch the master work.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Does actually hang around, if only to turn on his cassette player and point out where all his tapes are.

Leaves when Munson momentarily stops “redecorating” in order to trash Steve’s taste in music, in alphabetical order.

“I get it, I’m a mainstream prick, you jerk.” He calls over his shoulder as he exits. “Now I’m going to go where I won’t be insulted, and see if Cunningham needs anything.”

(She doesn’t, but does playfully insult him, having overheard the conversation.

“Well fuck me I guess.” Steve mutters with a sigh, as she laughs at him.)

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #AU where Chrissy lives #and is involved #this isn't fully edited so it may change #but my god #those walls #steve harringtons plaid walls #should be both a tag and a trigger warning #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #0o0 fanfics

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luckyyluka · 1 year

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Empty

Steve Harrington x gn!reader

Summary: Reader is at their limit but Steve interrupts their plans for the end. (hurt/comfort fic)

Disclaimer: Technically this is an OC because reader is Dustin's older sibling, but it is intended as a reader insert fic, so I am going to keep it listed as such. However, if you feel like being related to Dustin does not accurately fit you, you are free to interpret this however you'd like. Reader could be adopted, or maybe has a different father. Maybe reader isn't even related, but Dustin's mother kind of took them in when something happened in the past. Reader doesn't have to have the same genetics to be family with Dustin.

Notes: Reader is Dustin's older sibling. Reader uses they/them pronouns. NO use of y/n. I can't even tell you how long this has been in my drafts bro

Credits: gif from @appocalipse , dividers by @cafekitsune

Trigger Warnings: no specific mental illness is mentioned but in a general sense, SEVERE depression is heavily implied. Detailed depictions of depression, self harm, suicidal thoughts, almost attempted suicide using pills (all from reader).

This fic has a fairly detailed moment where reader is cutting themselves. I wrote this originally only for myself as a form of comfort. Please THINK before you decide to read this. The most important thing here is for you to stay safe. The sole purpose of me posting this fic is for readers who are similar to myself that might find comfort in this, but not everybody will get the same thing out of this fic, so please please please do NOT read if this will trigger you in any way.

Empty. The room feels empty. Your heart feels empty. Your hope feels empty. The emptiness pierced through your chest like an arrow, cold and sharp and leaving you breathless. Your tears fall from your face like a flood as you sit on the ever-so-slightly scratchy carpet underneath you, one hand brushing over the fabric, the other playing with the necklace you wore around your neck. The necklace with the guitar pick. Eddie's guitar pick.

Eddie Munson was your best friend since the first grade. He meant the world to you. He helped you through your darkest times, the times when depression would hit too hard, the times you'd feel like you were wasted space in the world around you, the times you got too sick to function, the times you relapsed. He stayed there with you until his last dying breath, a breath that shouldn't have come. It wasn't at all fair that he died saving a town that only ever judged him, outcast him, berated him. It wasn't at all fair that he was gone.

He took that last dying breath only days after he witnessed the gruesome death of Chrissy Cunningham, framed for murder, and tragically stuck in the middle of the most cursed parts of Hawkins, Indiana. You'd been there before. Three times. Starting when your little brother's best friend, Will, disappeared. Dustin snuck around in secret at first, but you knew him well. You knew him better than anyone did, aside from maybe himself, so you figured it all out pretty quickly. And that's the thing about the trust between you two - it made it easy for him to tell you everything when you asked. To trust you to hold him in your arms on the most difficult nights, softly singing the lyrics to Heroes by David Bowie to help soothe him as he would slowly but surely fall asleep. Just like you did when you were younger.

Those three times had left you to mourn the loss of your friend, Barb, your little cat, Mews, and the man that made Joyce Byers smile for the first time in over a year, Bob. And as much as you hated Billy Hargrove - the man that abused his sister, Max Mayfield, made racist remarks about Lucas Sinclair, verbally spat in the faces of anybody he spoke to, and beat Steve Harrington to a pulp - even he had died tragically. Though you were sure it wouldn't have effected you near as much if it weren't for the shattered heart of Max Mayfield - a heart that you and your friends desperately tried to help piece back together - it still left your own heart heavy.

The fourth time around was different, though. As your best friend, you had done everything in your power to protect Eddie from the things you've had the misfortune of witnessing before, even if it created a barrier in the middle of your relationship. But the Upside Down had other plans when a monster named Vecna gave Eddie the burden of witnessing Chrissy shake in a trance, eyes rolling to the back of her head, floating, limbs folding and crunching, eyes sucked into her body. He had no choice but to be a part of it all. Vecna gave him no choice.

The monster got into the minds of anybody who was suffering. He fed off of defeat, distress, heartache... it made him stronger. He tried taking Max, and he almost got her, but Eleven brought her heart back. That didn't change the fact that she did die, though, even if only for a moment. It still gave Vecna that little ounce of power that he needed. The power to open up the rift to the Upside Down, a rift that split Hawkins into quarters... the great "earthquake" of Hawkins, Indiana.

You grieved the loss of Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, and even basketball player Jason Carver, all while praying desperately to anybody above who would listen that Max would wake up from a coma, miraculously escaping death. You all visited her every single day, none of you dared to leave her alone. Her hospital room, despite being arid and lifeless, was unofficially deemed the spot, all of you gathered there to hang out almost every day as she recovered. You covered the room in posters and knickknacks, left behind toys and board games that you could have simply brought back the next time you came, just to mask the bleak atmosphere. It took half a year, but your prayers were answered, and she did miraculously escape death.

Two years later and her body grows closer and closer to fully healing everyday. Her sight came back faster than her smiles, but eventually, she got those back too.

But the reason for your tears as you sit on the floor in a dark, empty room at this very moment, gripping onto the pick that hung around your neck, wasn't to mourn your best friend Eddie Munson. The pick only helped to nudge a few breaths back into you, reminding you about all of the times Eddie held you in his arms and begged you to keep going, to stay alive, trying desperately to convince you of the truth - that everyone around you loved and needed you here, that you couldn't die, not even if it was at your own hand.

The reason was your mind. The way your thoughts were able to make your heart ache, your body shake, your lungs desperately scratch for air. You felt like you were drowning, and to make things worse, you had no one reason why. It was a mix of everything. Everybody you had mourned in your life, every intrusive thought that had you second guessing reality, every time your mind would flash back to every trauma you've experienced.

You turned on music, started watching tv, writing, dancing, anything to help you to slow your thoughts, make them more bearable. But it didn't work. They just wouldn't stop.

You've coped with this burden for as long as you can remember, Eddie, Dustin and your mother being there for you every step of the way as you were in and out of hospitals, therapy, relapses. When everything with the Upside Down kick-started, you thanked whatever higher being out there that your meds were working like they needed to be. It helped to grow close to the new people around you - Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Joyce... Hell, even the little ones, Will, Lucas, Mike, Eleven, and Max. Your support system was strong. You weren't alone. And while it undeniably helped, nothing was cured.

You made it through every time, and you thought that should have helped, that it should have put everything into perspective. You're alive, most of your loved ones are alive, you've got a long list of people surrounding you who understand exactly what you've been through... yet it only made your stomach churn with guilt. Guilt that you had no right to be depressed over anything, not when things like the Upside Down existed, not when there were worse things out there. But you couldn't help it. You didn't understand how you couldn't even bring yourself to get out of bed a lot of times, but your friends were getting out of bed, getting dressed, showering, existing every single day...

You wondered why you couldn't do that. You wondered why your mind worked so hard against you every second you were awake. You wondered why you were still alive and not Eddie. Not Barb. Not Bob. If you can barely exist, so weak, so cowardly, so ungrateful, but they were giving their all every single day, then why were you the one who made it out alive?

It was eating you from the inside out. The guilt. The survivors guilt. The guilt of just simply feeling. The fleeting guilt of hurting your loved ones if you were to die, though it was quickly washed away by the knowledge that it wouldn't matter, that they would be better off without you, that you didn't matter enough for anybody to be effected by your death.

You hadn't talked about how you were feeling in two years. Since Max almost died, that guilt had gotten so severe that you just couldn't bring yourself to let anything out anymore. So you held it in. You held it in until you were about to burst at the seams. And even then, you couldn't seem to allow yourself to let it out.

But now here you were, alone in the empty room you sat in, the spare bedroom of your house. The only room that had a lock on the door. Usually, your mom, Dustin, and you were respectful of knocking, respectful of each other's privacy... but you couldn't risk it. Not right now. On the floor beside you was a Coke can - the classic, not the new kind - next to a bottle of pills, a note you had carefully hand-written, and your pocket knife. You had this planned for weeks now, and you finally reached your limit. It was time to set the plan into action.

Your grip on Eddie's guitar pick tightened, if that were even possible. Your forearm wiped away at your tears, which deemed to be useless when the tears fell far too quickly. The emptiness you had once felt moments ago was suddenly gone, replaced with the weight of a burden much too heavy for you to bear. A burden of existing with a mind so relentless. Reluctantly, you let go of the pick around your neck and grabbed your knife, popping the blade out and sucking in as much of a breath as you could take.

Without thinking, you pushed down. The cold sting on your wrist made you shudder, eyes closing in relief. Feeling the blood trickling down your wrist had urged you to open your eyes, to take in the sight of every emotion you endured being put on display. The breath you held finally escaped your lungs, and for the first time in days, you noticed your breathing begin to even out. As if you weren't drowning anymore, yet simply floating at the surface of the water you were once drowning in only moments ago.

You continue your actions, the crushing heaviness you felt in your lungs lessening with each cut. When you felt satisfied with your work, you let the blood trickle down and make a mess. That was the most satisfying part of it all. The visible mess and what it represented; hey, this pain is real, it's not all in your head.

You sighed, your tears lessened just a bit as your breathing evened out and you felt more at ease. Your shakey hands slowly but surely untwisted the cap of the bottle of pills, fumbling a bit more than you should have - damned safety cap. Nevertheless, you popped it open and poured about a dozen pills into your hand, but before you could wrap your other hand around the coke can next to you, you heard the front door open. Fuck.

"I just need to grab my bag! It has all the walkie talkies."

Dustin.

"Dude is that really necessary?"

Mike.

"Can you two shut up and hurry? We've got places to be!"

Steve, ending his sentence with a clap. He must have been the last to enter because you heard the front door shut shortly after.

You winced at the sound. The sound of your little brother talking, not knowing you were about to end your life in the next room. The sound of your friends, Mike and Steve, mostly unaware of your mental struggles and completely clueless to your current state.

You heard shuffling footsteps and indistinctive murmuring between the three boys. Dustin shut his door and you let out a short breath knowing they were finally about to leave - except they didn't.

"Wait, Dustin, where's your sibling?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to hold back from sobbing at the mention of you. The tears were hard enough to control as it was.

"I don't know, probably with Robin," Dustin shrugged it off and you hoped it'd end with that, but it didn't.

"But their car is still in the driveway," Steve speculated, "plus, Robin's working."

You heard the footsteps growing closer to you, and the door to your room opened. "They're not in here," Dustin said with worry. He called out your name, but of course he didn't get a response. He knew you were at an all time low right now, he saw it every day, so of course his first response would be to worry.

The door knob on the spare room that you were in wiggled. "The spare bedroom is locked!" Dustin called out, frantically fumbling with it.

Little did you know, Dustin had been updating everyone of your struggles. He couldn't bear the weight of it all alone. Plus, they all cared for you. They wanted you to be okay. They missed you. They loved you. So they tried to help in every way possible.

"You don't think they're... like, cut-"

Steve cut Mike's words short, "I got a paper clip. Let me open it," he got closer to the door, "step back with Mike, okay Dustin?"

"Okay," you heard your little brother's voice crack and you could tell he was on the verge of tears. You, however, were way past tears. Your sobs had you almost gasping for air as you tried desperately to hold them back, but you know they'd heard them. Quickly, you reached for the bottle of pills before the door swung open.

"Shit," you whispered when the bottle of pills tumbled over.

Steve was quick to hide you from the kid's line of sight with his body. He looked at you with sad eyes, talking in a breath as you frowned at him with guilt.

He turned around, "wait out here," he instructed the boys and turned to face you. He slowly walked closer before sitting next to you on the ground.

He wrapped his arms around you gently as you finally let yourself cry. Sobs ripped from your chest as the tears flooded, and you knew his shirt was already tear-stained. Steve held you long enough for you to finally catch a breath before he pulled away to assess the current situation.

He gently wrapped his hand around your wrist, maneuvering your arm so that he could see the cuts. "How many did you take?" His eyes scanned the still bleeding cuts as he asked about the pills.

"None," you told him, "the bottle tipped over," you frowned, "I made a mess..."

"My love..." His eyes glossed as tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. "You're okay, don't worry about the mess. Let's just get you cleaned up, alright?"

You shook, more than you were before, as your sobs evened out slowly. Steve stood up, helping you slowly get on your feet, and he guided you to the bathroom.

He helped to pick you up and you sat on the counter, but the movement made you realize just how groggy you were starting to feel. You felt tired - exhausted, even - and almost fell over, but Steve held you up. "I got you, baby. You're okay. Stay awake for me, alright?"

He grabbed a wash cloth and wet it before guiding your arm under the water. He did his best to be gentle with you as he helped to clean your cuts. Finally, he wrapped a towel around your arm, instructing you to hold it there as he searched the medicine cabinet for some bandages.

"Aha," he pronounced when he found the bandage wrap that he was looking for. He got some antibiotic cream and covered your now-clean wounds, wrapping the bandage just tight enough around your wrist to help the bleeding slow down and protect the cuts from worsening.

"There. All clean," he smiled at you as he held your wrist in his hand while his other hand covered yours. You were much too tired to try and fake a weak smile for him.

"Now, do you want to talk? Or would you rather watch some movies or something?" Steve gave you options, and none of them included leaving you alone. "Dustin and Mike are here, too. I can call Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Max... Anybody you want around. We all talk if you want, or we can order a bunch of pizza and binge your favorite show on Netflix."

He rambled more and more options for you to choose from, proving that he would really do pretty much anything to comfort you in this moment. You sighed, but a real smile actually seemed to form on your lips - albeit small, but it was there.

"I think... I'm really tired, Steve..." you confessed, really only wanting to sleep. Steve frowned a little.

"Let's get you to bed, then," he rubbed circles on the back of your hand soothingly. "I'll let the boys know. They won't mind playing some video games or something while we take a nap."

"We...?" you questioned hesitantly, suddenly feeling a bit nervous, but too tired to care enough.

"If that's alright with you? I'm a little sleepy too," he smiled gently.

You only nodded in response.

He'd assumed you didn't really want to talk to Dustin or Mike right now, and that assumption was correct, so he went to update them on the situation and they both understood.

When Steve returned to the bathroom, he helped you down from the counter and lead you to your room, practically tucking you in. He climbed into the bed next to you and the two of you faced each other.

"I think you're fantastic," he said to you, "and you mean a lot to me. You mean a lot to all of us. Especially Dustin," he smiled. "That boy would die for you in a heartbeat."

You frowned slightly, taking in his words as much as possible as your eyes got heavier. "I'm sorry," you apologized.

"No, love, don't apologize. You've got nothing to be sorry for. Pinky promise."

It was a joke between the two of you. The first time you really spoke to each other, you made him pinky promise to keep his end of a bargain - you buy the drinks and he doesn't talk about his hair for the rest of the week. It was funny, and neither of you expected it to mean anything, but it stuck.

"Okay," you smiled at him.

"There's that beautiful smile," Steve tucked your hair behind your ear, careful not to startle you.

"We need you here," he finally began, "you light up the room every time. You're our light. You're funny and kind. You're amazing. You've gone through so so much. You're allowed to be sad. To cry. But please, talk to us when you need to. Please stay."

Steve's words resonated with you, so much so that a small tear escaped from the corner of your eye. "Okay," you repeated from the last time.

And before he could say anything else, your eyes closed and you were asleep.

With him there, you finally got a genuinely good sleep for the first time in a long while.

When you finally woke up from your nap, Steve wasn't in the bed anymore. You frowned slightly, until you heard his voice bantering with Mike and Dustin's in the living room. A sigh escaped your lips as you rolled out of the bed and headed into the living room.

Dustin was the first to notice, not bothering to pause whatever video game was on the TV as he dashed towards you. His arms wrapped around you immediately, "you're awake!!"

A small smile formed on your lips as you pat his head and hugged him back, "I'm awake."

"I love you so much," Dustin mumbled against your shoulder, tightening his grip on you. "Please stay."

Your hug tightened around him this time before you pulled away and looked into his eyes, "I'm not going anywhere, Dustin."

Mike stared from afar, his attention on you and making sure you were okay had occupied his mind, any attention towards the video game he was playing with Dustin was lost.

Steve made his way over to you, Dustin going back to the couch to let the two of you speak. "How are you feeling?" Steve questioned.

"I don't know," you admitted, "but I finally got some actual sleep for the first time in a while." A weak chuckle escaped your lips.

"That's good..." Steve ran his fingers through his hair, "you know, uh... well, Dustin isn't the only one who really needs you here. I mean, Mike was lost trying to process what had happened... he was terrified. And, well, I..." he stopped himself there, inhaling deeply and averting his eyes from yours to the ground.

His hand rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, his eyes meeting yours again as he continued, "I can't lose you."

Your breath caught in your throat as you studied his eyes and took the time to process what Steve had just told you.

Before you could say anything, he continued his words in a frantic effort to explain himself, "I, uh, I know we weren't ever very close.. I mean, before I started hanging out with your brother, I was... kinda a shitty dude," he let out a breathy chuckle, "and you were so shy, you hung out with Eddie, who didn't exactly get along with my clique, and..." he paused, letting out a deep sigh before continuing his ramble, "what I mean to say is, letting Dustin drag me to your house that night to help him explain all of this upside down shit to you... Well, it led me to you, so..."

You raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of your lips curved upwards, fully understanding what he was saying, but teased him anyways. "So....?" You pushed for him to finish what he was saying.

"So, I guess maybe I should thank the little shit," a breathy laugh escaped his lips as he joked with you.

You giggled quietly and put both of your hands on either side of his face, locking eye contact with him. Judging by the way your cheeks burned, the blush on your face was prevalent, you were sure. His left hand went to your waist, pulling you in a little closer as his right hand gently curved around the back of your neck.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nodded in response, "Yes," you whispered.

He leaned down and brought his lips to yours, kissing you slowly. He had to force himself to break the kiss before he was in too deep to stop, the closed-lip, dopey smile on his face as he looked at you would have made you think that he was in love with you, if you didn't know better.

Or maybe, you were on the right track. Either way, you knew you had a friend in him, and everybody that you cared about truly did care about you, too. You finally felt safe for the first time in a very long time.

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yourlastbraincell-kiwi · 15 days

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A/N: Thought I’d drop a Billy Hargrove ff, why not? This one has to deal with the fight between him and his dad in the beginning of S2 Ep. 8. Some of the wording is word for word, but I put a spin on it.

Could be a tearjerker yall, be prepared. 🤧

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

“Billy? Billy, come on. At least tell me where we’re going.” I asked, as he continued to drive his car.

“Y’know ask a lot of questions.” He stated, glancing at me from in the rear view mirror, and I scoff and sigh. “Why can’t you just wait?”

“Trick question: I can’t.”

“Oh, I know, cause you’re also very hardheaded.” He said, and I hit his shoulder, and he let out a deep chuckle.

He eventually did pull up into a driveway. This obviously wasn’t my driveway. So, it had to either be his or a friend’s house.

“This your house?” I ask, getting out of the car.

“Why don’t you come find out?” He stats unlocking the door and opened it for me.

I walked inside and looked around, it wasn’t super big, but you didn’t need a big house in order to call it home. I take my coat off and draped it on the back of the couch.

Billy does the same before coming up behind me, linking his arm around my waist, and placing his chin on my shoulder. Not forgetting to press himself up against my behind.

I laugh, “Now, I see why you dragged me from the party so early.”

He chuckles, and I feel the vibrations of it going down my shoulder. “I had to or they would’ve had a show they would remember.” He replied, as I felt his breath on my neck, along with some kisses all over the side of my neck.

“Would that have been so bad?”

“Not if you’re into that kinda shit.” He smirks, turning me around so I’m facing him, before feeling my legs up against the couch. “Are you, into they kinda stuff, baby?”

“And if I say ‘yes?’”

“Then I’ll have to remember that. The next time we’re in public, and you decide you want to pull that stunt again.”

“It was just a bit of harmless, teasing. Can you not handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle it. Let’s see if you can handle what I’m going to do to you. Go.” He says pointing in the direction his room. He doesn’t miss this chance to give my rear a hard smack, before following me.

Not too long after I made it to his bedroom door, he opened it swiftly and letting me inside, then closed the door behind him.

Billy reached over to his cd player and played some music and then turned to me.

I was sitting on his bed all pretty like, and he was drinking it all in.

The way I had my legs crossed, with my dress hugging my body and curves. The light in his room, hitting my skin just right. In this moment, I was his prey and he was the predator, ready to devour me in every and any way he knew.

He pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me, my knee already raised up from sitting with my legs crossed; gently brushed along his manhood causing a groan to fall from his lips.

It was mostly an accident, but it was like the world wanted me to do it on purpose.

“Don’t know when to quit do you?” He asked, I shrugged and he rolled his eyes, burrowing his face in the crook of my neck.

I bit down on my lower lip, and had my fingers entangled in his mullet.

He proceeded to lick and suck on various places on my neck. He just wanted to mark up any spots on my body, that didn’t scream ‘I belong to Billy,’ yet.

He knew what he wanted and that’s what he planned on doing, and he wasn’t going to beat around the bush about it either.

He tugged on the last place that he wanted to mark before standing up. He grabbed the hem of my shirt, and pulled it up over my head. Having me sit up a little to reach around me to undo my bra, but he never got to it.

“Billy?” His step-mom asked as she knocked on the door. He ignored it, trying to finish what was started, but she knocked again.

“I’m a little bit busy in here, Susan.” He sighed, looking back down at me, and leaned down ready to put his face in-between the valley of my chest but..

“Open the door. Right now.” His dad demanded, Billy took a moment waiting for me to put my shirt on and then opened the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“We can’t fine Maxine.” Susan started.

“-And her windows open.” Neil added, and Billy looked around knowing where who she might’ve gone out with. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

“You don’t know?” Neil said and scoffed.

“Look, I’m sure she just, I don’t know, went to the arcade or something. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You were supposed to watch her.”

“I know, Dad. I was. It’s just you guys were three hours late, and well I have a date.” He said motioning to me grabbing a different coat, and I gave a small wave, starting to stand up. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“So, that’s why you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror, like some idiot instead of watching your sister?”

“I have been looking after her all week, Dad. Okay? She wants to run off, then that’s her problem, all right? She’s 13 years old. She shouldn’t need a full-time babysitter. And she’s not my sister!” Billy exclaimed, turning off the music before his Dad pushed him up against the wall.

“Neil! Please not in front of his girlfriend.” Susan said trying to get me out of the room.

“No, no, she needs to see this.” He said and maintaining the eye contact he had on Billy. “What did we talk about?” He asked and Billy didn’t respond in time, causing Neil to smack him across the face. “What did we.. talk about?”

“Respect and responsibility.”

“That is right.” Neil replied, “Now, apologize to Susan.”

“I’m sorry, Susan.”

“It’s okay, Neil, really-” Susan said tryna to get Neil to stop.

“No, it’s not okay. Nothing about his behavior is okay. But he’s gonna make up for it. He’s gonna cancel their date. And then he’s gonna go find his sister. Like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is. Isn’t that right, Billy?” He said, and looked at Billy, and he didn’t respond again.

“Isn’t that right?” He asked more forcefully.

“Yes, sir.” He mumbled softly. I hated being here, hated being in this room, without a way to help Billy in this moment.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir.” He forced out, in a much louder tone of voice.

“Find Max.” He said, walking away from Billy, and out of the room. “Get her out of here.”

“Come on, honey.” Susan said, grabbing me gently by the hand, and lead me out of the room.

A couple seconds later glass shattering could be heard, and I yanked my hand out of hers and tried to run back into Billy’s room.

Neil noticed this and forced me back away from his room door and pushed me out of the house. I tripped and fell onto the pavement, scratching up my hands and knees. I cried softly, not because of the pain, but because of what happened to Billy.

Standing the room, defenseless. His step-mom knowing it’s wrong, but too frighted to do anything or call the police. All we could do was watch, it was horrendous.

I sat on the steps to their porch for only goodness knows how long, and heard the door opening. I stood up immediately thinking it’d be Neil, but it was Billy.

“Billy?” I called out and he ignored me going to his car. “Billy, please..” I begged and pleaded with him to talk to me, look at me even, but he refuse to do even that. He just got in, turned the key, he pulled away from the driveway and drove away..

#wattpad #x reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #black!writer #all inclusive #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #trigger warning #tw abuse #stranger things #a little smutish #Billy Hargrove x black!reader

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