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sadhours · 1 year

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Wicked Sensation

part three // billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, underage drinking, drinking and then driving, smut, billy masturbates, oral (f receiving), p in v, uh body fluids?

Billy liked you. You mostly kept to yourself but you were a wild child, he could tell. He’d seen you through your window, dancing in your room while you blasted music and drank beers. Every few hours you’d go outside for a smoke and he’d close his blinds so you couldn’t see him. He loved the music he could hear coming from your window. Metallica, Skid Row, Ratt, Def Leppard, Dio and the occasional Black Sabbath. When you’d dive into New Wave you’d lose him a bit until he’d seen how much fun you were having. You seemed carefree but yet there was something reserved about you. Something maybe he could tease out of you.

He’d definitely pleasured himself to the thought of it, not until after thumbing through his girly magazines but your face and wild hair flooded his mind when he looked at the girls in the magazine. He’d tossed the magazine on the ground, laying back on his bed and palmed himself through his jeans. He thought about the way you’d look riding him with your hair and tits bouncing. The way your mouth would hang open but the sides of your lips tugged up in a smile and he quickly undid his jeans, pulling his hard cock out of his jeans and started stroking himself long and slow at first. He imagined your eyes getting misty and you panting, making his movements quicker and quicker. Then he imagined his name falling out of your lips and he came undone, spilling out over his hand and shirt. When he’d cleaned up, he lit a cigarette and opened his blinds, seeing you perched outside having your own cigarette and he couldn’t help but think maybe you’d just done the same thing he did. It was midnight, after all.

The next day at school, you wore leather pants and he knew he was in for another late night.

—

Halloween came slower than he had wanted but it was finally here. He couldn’t be bothered to put together a costume but he wore his favorite leather jacket, leather fingerless gloves with his tightest 501’s. He’d spent a substantial amount of time in the bathroom. Max banging on the door to tell him to get a move on but Neil knocking on the door had him out of there sooner than he’d wanted. He finished his hair routine in his room, blinds open to see if he could get a glimpse of you getting ready. He grabs his cologne, dabbing on it neck and then just above his dick, on the blonde curls neatly trimmed there. He did this anytime he went on. Just in case, he told himself.

When he’s finished, he quietly slips out his house, making sure not to shut the door too hard. He jogs up to your house and knocks three times, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he waits. He expects you to answer but instead your father does and Billy’s a bit apprehensive, he doesn’t do well with parents. Plus, he’s not wearing a shirt.

Your dad is kind, he lets you do your own thing and tries not to interfere too much. He opens the door and tells Billy, “Past the kitchen, first door on the left.”

Billy is thankful your dad forgoes the formalities. He gets a glimpse of your brother, roughly Max’s age, sitting on couch with a costume he can’t quite pick out. He’s got those visor sunglasses on but nothing else gives an indication of what he’s supposed to be.

As Billy makes it to the hall he can hear your choice of music. Still of the Night by Whitesnake making your door vibrate. The musics loud enough that Billy doesn’t even bother knocking, twisting the door open to reveal you standing in your bra looking down at the two shirts laid out on your bed with a pensive look on your face. Billy moves to shut the door again but you stop him. “Wait, help,” you say and you’ve already had a few beers, the alcohol in your system giving you a bit of confidence and shoving your inhibitions further away.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him, looking at you inquisitively. “I don’t know which one to pick,” you admit, gesturing to the shirts on your bed. One is a leather halter top and the other is a cropped black button up with eccentric buttons.

Obviously Billy leans towards the halter top, pointing at it without a thing to say. You nod, “I was thinking that one too.”

You slip it on, then grabbing a studded leather jacket and putting that on as well. You turn to him, “Okay, I’m ready.”

He looks at your eye makeup and tilts his head, knowing this must be a costume but not sure what of. His curiosity obvious to you so you tell him, “I’m Alice Cooper.”

“No more Mr. Nice Guy,” he quips and you giggle which is not something he’d heard from you yet. He loves the sound.

You open your door and pull him through it, letting go of his jacket when you get into the kitchen because you don’t want your dad to read into this. Billy is just giving you a ride to the party, nothing more.

“Bye,” you tell your dad with a kiss to the cheek.

“Be safe, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says as you and Billy slip out the door. Billy thinks about how nice of an interaction that was. How your dad didn’t try to control any aspect of you and how that made him a bit jealous.

You walk to his Camaro, feeling your buzz as you tell him, “I love your car, I don’t think I’ve told you that.”

He slips inside, sliding his key in the ignition and turning it. The blue car comes alive with a rumble and it makes your body tingle. He pumps the acceleration a few times to really drive the point across, putting on a show for you.

You hum happily, lighting a cigarette as he peels out, down the street and the houses flying by. The comfortability you feel in this moment is something you wanna feel forever. If you could forever feel the buzz of alcohol and a pretty boy driving you anywhere fast, you would.

Billy has a Ted Nugent cassette in and you cringe, there’s only one song on this album you like. You prop open his glove box and dig through the tapes he has, but nothing quite feels right for the moment. You purse your lips as you lean back, excited for the party. You lived for this stuff, everyone was a little more laid back at parties, they got along.

“Had you a little pre party, did ya?” Billy asks, turning the music down.

“A few beers while I got ready,” you shrug, wondering if you seemed drunk already.

Billy makes it to a stretch of road with no curves for at least a few miles, “Me too.” and with the words he floors it.

You scream with a huge smile on your face, your hands gripping the sides of the seat. The way you sound drives him a little insane, feeling the way his dick twitches in his tight pants at getting the reaction from you. Wild child, he thinks as he glances at you. He’d always wanted girls to act this way. You didn’t talk too much, you didn’t tell him meaningless details about your day at the mall or the gossip at school. You could be uptight but it was in an alluring way, a way that had him wanting more.

However, he didn’t expect for you to disappear the second you arrive at the party. In fact, it kind of pissed him off. But once Tommy saw him, he was ushering him to the keg and telling him he just had to beat Steve’s record. He doesn’t see you again for about two hours, catching you inside with your makeup smeared as you take a shot of whiskey with a group of guys. He feels protective, snaking his way between you and some kid he’s seen around school.

You grin at the resurgence of Billy, loving that you can see the sweat and beer on his bare chest. You’ve had enough to drink to where you’re no longer pushing the sexual thoughts you have about him down. They’re now at the forefront of your mind when you see him.

“Have a shot with me!” you insist, pouring Billy one before he can answer. But he couldn’t say no to you anyhow.

You cheers, clinking your glasses together before tapping them on the counter and then down the hatch they go. You two don’t break eye contact the entire time. The group of men around you had kind of dispersed when Billy walked up, aside from two of them. The four of you somewhat engage in conversation but a song comes on that makes you wanna dance.

The Lovecats by The Cure isn’t necessarily Billy’s thing but he doesn’t protest as you drag him into the crowd of teenagers dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his body into yours. He places his hands on your hips, swaying with you.

So wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully pretty. Oh you’d know that I’d do anything for you.

The words make Billy snort quietly because that’s how he feels looking at you and he has never felt that about another person.

As the song comes to an end, you lean into his ear and whisper, “Take me home…”

Again, no protest, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd and to his Camaro parked on the street.

The drive is quick, you smoke two cigarettes on the way but you share them both with Billy.

Billy notices your dads car is gone when he pulls up. “Where’s your dad?” He wonders aloud.

“Oh, he’s at his girlfriend’s house… my brothers with him,” you answer, opening the car door and stumbling out of it.

Billy tilts his head as he watches you, “You good, sweetheart?”

The nickname makes you giggle and you feel the heat fill between your legs, “Yes, sir! I’m great.”

You lead him into your house after fumbling with the key for a brief moment. Billy locks the door behind him, following to the kitchen where you fill two glasses of water and handing him one. He takes it gratefully, gulping some of it down before you two reach your bedroom. You set your glass down on your nightstand and fall back on your bed, eyes dark as you gawk up at Billy. He sits on your bed, looking around your room and you think about what Stephanie had said about him.

“I mean like he knew what he was doing, he wasn’t awkward about it at all. The man knew what he wanted.”

Billy was being awkward. But you couldn’t fathom why he’d come to your bedroom with you if he didn’t want to have sex with you. You take a pointed foot and shove him with him, a mischievous grin on your face. He finally looks at you, his lips turned up in a smile and his gorgeous blue eyes darting across your upper half.

“Pick some music to play,” you tell him and motion towards your stereo and cassette collection.

He obeys, holding up Master of Reality by Black Sabbath. You nod amusingly, sitting up to shrug your jacket off and then sliding your boots off. Billy does the same after putting the album on, now just wearing his jeans and fingerless gloves. He’s more quiet than you’d imagined, which you had many many times. But in your fantasies he’s eager and saying filthy things to you.

“C’mere,” you instruct, sitting up on your feet. When he sits across from you, the both of you instinctively lean in. Your lips meet and it’s gentle at first. But then it’s like a switch flipped in Billy and he grabs the back of your head, sliding his tongue past your lips. You gasp at the change of pace, falling on your back with him on top of you. He moves his hands from the back of your head to your jaw and his gloves feel nice on your skin.

His fingertips move slowly down from your face to your chest, his lips following suit but pausing at your neck. Reactively, you tilt your head back while he plants sloppy kisses on your neck. A whimper escapes when he sucks your skin between his lips and your legs spread a little further exposing more of his clothed excitement against yours.

Feeling his erection has you laugh excitedly, your body dripping in anticipation for what’s to come. He pulls back at the laugh and looks up at you through his dark and heavy eyelashes. He’s so pretty you could almost die right now. “Tickles?” he asks, his voice low with hunger.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his lips back to yours. “Feels so good,” you say into his mouth.

Billy begins to mess with the laces up the front of your top but gets frustrated when he can’t quite figure how to untie it. He sits back on his feet to get a better look but to no avail. He tugs harshly at the strings which jerks your upper body off the mattress, “How do you fucking get this thing off?”

The roughness of his movements takes your breath away but his frustration is adorable. You grab onto the hem and pull the top up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor with a cavalier smile. He rolls his eyes but is quick to reach his hand around your back and undo your bra in one swift motion. He drags it off of you and throws it behind him, a soft thud as it smacks against a poster on your wall before falling to the floor.

The cold air hits your chest but his mouth is efficient in warming you up, taking a nipple into his mouth while the other is covered by his hand. Your hand snakes up to the back of his neck, fingers tangling between the long curls there. “Oh, Billy…” you gasp and he responds with teeth, biting the tender skin.

But he stops and you’re eyes pry open at the surprise, not wanting this to end so soon. Luckily, you catch him tugging off his leather gloves and hear him mutter in a guttural tone, “Wanna feel you.”

Your head swims when he resumes heavy lips on your breast, his hand squeezing the other gently. You silently tell yourself you’re an idiot for ignoring the way you’d felt about him. If you could’ve been feeling this good the second you met him then you’ve missed out.

His hands smooth down your sides until his fingertips meet your waistband. He shimmies your pants down, your bum lifting to make it easier and they’re off in a heap next to the mattress. A scoff leaves his lips when he sees you weren’t wearing underwear. You shrug and tell him, “Can’t wear any with those pants, major panty lines.”

His curls bounce as he shakes his head a bewildered smile on his face, “You wore ‘em to school this week.”

“Enough talking,” you demand, getting impatient as your core is exposed to him and all he does is stare at it.

He slaps you down there and replies, “I’ll talk all I want.” You don’t mind though as he drags his fingers up and down your folds. Your head props up to watch him work while he mumbles, “Soaking for me.”

Biting your lip, you adjust your legs to give him ample room to continue. “Always so wet when I’m around?” he wonders aloud with a cocky grin plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Maybe,” you moan out as he slides a single digit inside of you.

You’re not sure exactly what it is, especially since it’s so early in the act but Billy is the best sexual partner you’ve had. Neither of you are remotely close to finishing but this is the best feeling you’ve ever had in your life. It could be the way he looks at you, eye contact was never something you did during sex. It always felt distracting but with Billy, it’s just urging that release along.

With his left on pushing slightly on your stomach, he adds a second finger inside you and instantly curls them. You gasp, your hands moving anywhere and everywhere trying to find something to squeeze. You actually sit up to grab at his shoulders, which in turns gives you a better view of what he’s doing. His thumb brushes up against your clit, just gently like he’s testing it out.

“Dear god,” you growl, your eyes meeting while he picks up his pace.

“M’names Billy,” he corrects you sarcastically and you want to slap him for teasing you like that now.

In a few seconds, you start to feel that rise in your stomach. It pushes you on your back and you spread your legs just a bit more, his fingers sliding in and out fast. He doesn’t forget to curl them up every few strokes.

Billy inches down the bed a little and his head dips down between your legs while his fingers stay inside you. He licks broadly against your clit, his tongue strong and certain. You cry out, fingers gripping onto his mullet. He looks up at you but your heads back, eyes closed as your back arches. He takes it as a sign and starts lapping at you with his tongue, quickly. Of course it doesn’t take any longer, your legs closing with him between them as you reach your high.

“Billy, yes!” you pant out, pulling his hair.

He pulls away quickly, not giving you any time to come down and crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is all tongue and teeth, while your legs and arms wrap around him. Then he moves his hands between the two of you, able to unbuckle his belt and push his pants and briefs down to his thoughts with your help.

He strokes himself a few times before pressing his tip to your clit and dragging it through your folds, gathering the wetness. He bites his lip and there’s an uncertainty in his eyes. He doesn’t have a condom. You look at him and whisper, “I’m on the pill.”

Which isn’t exactly the protection he’s looking for but it’s enough for him, his lips tugging up as he directs his tip back down to your entrance and pushes it in. You gasp at its thickness, your fingernails digging into his shoulder.

“You’re so tight,” he says it like he can’t believe it. You almost tell him maybe he’s too big but you don’t want it to go to his head so you just whimper instead before pulling his lips back to yours, licking into it as he parts his lips.

He inches in further and the sensation in utterly intoxicating, your breath caught in your throat and you head feels fuzzy. All of you feels fuzzy almost. Once he bottoms out, he pulls back to look at you and the eye contact this time is even more intense as he thrusts against you.

You’re an absolute puddle beneath him. His name spilling out of your mouth over and over, almost like a chant. The eye contact doesn’t break either, which would in other circumstance would be uncomfortable but it’s like you’re both in a trance.

He doesn’t last long but either do you, once his hand wraps around your throat loosely you’re falling over the edge for the second time. He follows suit, pulling out and finishing on your stomach and chest. A bit of it actually gets on your chin and you can’t help but want to taste it, bringing your finger to wipe it and slipping the finger in your mouth. The action brings a bit more out of Billy, seemingly shocking the both of you but he laughs. “I could’ve just finished in your mouth, if you’d asked.”

You shyly giggle, “Had a hard time thinking, if I had tried to ask it probably would’ve came out as gibberish.”

He falls beside you on the bed and you look up at him, “Mind grabbing something off the floor so I can clean up?”

“Oh yeah! Sorry,” he sits up and reaches down to grab a ratty band t-shirt you’d left strewn by the bed. He cleans it up for you.

Now is the awkward part. You worry he’ll leave, you’ve never had someone stay and for the first time you minded. Billy stands back up and grabs his briefs, stepping into them before he walks to your bed. His fingers curl around the glass of water on your bedside table and he hands it to you.

“Hydrate,” he says. You obey, sitting up to take a few gulps. When you hand it back he does the same. But then he lays back on the bed, arms behind his head as he turns to you with a soft smile on his face. Your heart flutters and you curl up into his side. Good, he’s staying.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove fic

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dearhargrove · 2 years

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Change of heart

Billy Hargrove x f!reader

Request Henderson reader (f or gn) dating Billy, Dustin doesn’t approve, Billy climbs into window after fights with Neil and you patch him up (mentally and physically), but one night it’s really bad and he and Max turn up knocking at the door bc Billy is in no shape to climb, and Dustin answers and Billy is like almost passing out but eh and you have to help him, and Dustin is like “oh shit” and yeah happy ending please

summary Dustin never liked Billy, but he definitely didn't like you dating Billy. Until said boy shows up on the brink of losing consciousness but still manages to swoon over you. Yeah, that might have changed Dustin's mind.

tags violence, wounds, bleeding, Henderson!reader

notes I love writing, so I'm happy to be back! It was hectic with the first weeks of school and I haven't been focusing on much else. There was also no motivation, and I just felt guilty leaving you all hanging like I did. Let's hope it gets better! Love you all <3

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Dustin never approved of you and Billy. That's what you expected when you revealed it to him; blatant rejection and some disbelief. It was justified - Billy had terrorized the kids unreasonably for weeks before meeting you.

He had honked at the boys before nearly running them over - but this time you saw him.

You had approached him in school the next day, threatening to run him over instead. From that moment he was intrigued. After asking you out a few times you agreed and got to know him.

It would be quite the shock for everyone to find out he's sweet (when he lets himself).

The first time he needed your help was when he smashed his mirror out of anger, some pieces of the glass still stuck in his hand. You had scolded him and after coddled him, sad this was his only way to channel his anger.

It had luckily never been that bad, a few bandaids, some disinfectant and he was fine.

You were in your room when it happened, reading over your homework.

Dustin huffed out of annoyance at the aggressive knocking before ripping the door open. "What?" That's when he saw who it was on his doorstep. There Max stood, Billy's arm around her shoulder and only barely standing.

"Get your sister. He said she can help," she urges and drags him in. "Woah, Woah. Stop there - he's not going in here or close to my sister." Dustin disliked Billy and didn't trust him. He was scared that you'd end up getting hurt more than anything.

"No," Max just said again and walked further, huffing from the exhaust. "Dustin, what the fuck is going on?" You ask, eyes on the stairs as you walk down (you'd fallen down the stairs way too many times to not be careful).

Max yelled out your name and when you got down the last step she was in front of you with her brother draped over her.

He had blood running down his forehead and his knuckles were burst open. "What happened to him?" You quickly overcome your shock and help the small girl to get him to the kitchen.

You sit him down in one of the chairs and get your - updated - first aid kit. Since the first few times, you've stocked it up on bandages, disinfectant, and more stuff. You brush his hair aside carefully, noticing he was barely conscious.

"Alright, Max, Dustin? Keep him awake, talk to him," you instruct and wipe the blood off his forehead, getting to cleaning the wound high on his forehead. You're incredibly tense, the fact that you have to save this was challenging.

Sometime in between he wakes up completely, hissing in pain. "Jesus, he got me good." He jokes and you would've slapped him if he wasn't in a bad condition like this. "Billy?" Max asks frantically and keeps up the conversation, though his eyes are on you and his hand shakily on your hip.

When you're done you gather up the trash left from everything and gesture to the two teens to take it outside.

With a sigh, you cross your arms and lean against the counter. "What happened?" He smiles at you warily and shrugs, opening his arms. "Hug me I think I deserve some love," it's half-joking, half-serious, so you huff but gather him in your arms.

His head is leaning against your stomach and you have one hand on his neck. "He made some comments about you, and I couldn't stop myself," he explains and you're once again close to smacking him. "I've told you to just let it go when he does that. It doesn't matter to me, so it shouldn't to you."

He shrugs and grins, "Don't care."

With a shake of your head you hear the two friends come back in and take his hand, "Can you walk?" He nods and you help him up. "Pretty sure Dustin accepts you now."

Somewhere - that's way too close for them to not have eavesdropped - you hear Dustin shout a 'Still a long way to go!' and you laugh a little, Billy as well. "He's fierce."

Opening the door to your room you let him go, going to clean up your homework quickly. "Studying as always." He remarks with amusement, dropping on your bed. "Some of us have to," you drily say and sit down next to where he sat on your bed.

"You don't. You're smart enough not to and still ace all the exams, you know that right?" There he goes with the flattery. Scoffing playfully, you change into your pajamas before going to your closet to retrieve some of his shirts, so he wouldn't have to sleep in his bloodied clothes.

"Alright, I have this," you give him a white muscle shirt he'd left months ago, "and this," it's a pair of boxer shorts - you couldn't answer why it was there, but you're glad it was.

"Go change and come to bed, I'm tired."

He looks at you fondly, and even though his eye was swelling up and his face ached with every movement (just as the rest of his body did) he made it a point to send you one of his rare, but appreciated, big smiles.

"Be right back, princess."

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #dustin henderson #max mayfield #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove angst #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre x reader #dacre montgomery

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prettybillycore · 2 years

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You Are Not a Burden, Billy Hargrove || Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

Pairing(s): Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

Universe: Stranger Things

Summary: After moving in with you, Billy has good days and bad days with his mental health. You were there for him in one of his darkest moments.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Neil Hargrove is his own warning, Billy's Anger issues, Mental Health Breakdown (Billy's), swearing, Police

Read it on ao3 (or on this Tumblr post below the cut)

Part of your deal with Billy was that he had to work on bettering himself. You told him from the beginning of your blossoming relationship– be nice to me and the kids and Steve or our relationship can’t continue. I know you’re still learning and I can see that you are trying, but respect is one of the most important things in relationships like this.

Billy had never been in a relationship; this fact surprised you at first, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. It broke your heart a little inside knowing that he had never been shown gentle kindness and love. You were willing to give him the safe space he needed to heal and he knew that too. You said as long as he was trying to get better you would be there to support him and that was more than anyone else had ever done for him. I’ll do my best, Doll. I promise. I know I’ll have bad days, but I’m gonna do everything I can to get the anger out in better ways.

You brushed your hand across his cheek and smiled up at him. He had never seen someone look at him with so much pure adoration. It made him feel fragile. All I ask for is that you’re trying. I love you, Billy Hargrove.

He set his hands lightly on your hips. I love you too.

| < ♥️ > |

Billy had more good days than bad this summer and you were so thankful for that. You loved him dearly– he was protective of you, always brought you flowers on date night, and wouldn’t let you open or close your own car door. He essentially worshipped the ground you walked on most days and you felt so loved. The party and your friends were all starting to accept that Billy was treating you like a god(dess). They didn’t always love that he was hanging around, but they respected your relationship. It was enough for you to feel comfortable. Billy was making progress on being generally nicer to the soon-to-be freshman and he treated Steve was respect every time he saw him. It made your heart swell.

There were still bad times, though. Mostly now they consisted of panic more than rage. Billy was staying at your house all the time and Max stayed in your guestroom whenever she felt like she needed to get out of the Hargrove-Mayfield household. Billy would receive angry and threatening calls from his father sometimes. He would scream into the phone until you gently placed your hand on his shoulder and he hung up the phone. You two would curl up on his bed and you would let him sob into the crook of your neck. He held onto you like nothing you had ever experienced before; like if he let you go, you would evaporate. You would hum simple songs and play with his hair until you both fell asleep.

This bad day wasn’t like those bad days, unfortunately. You walked into the house after dropping the Party off at the Wheelers’ place, and Billy was fuming. Much like Steve’s parents, your parents weren’t around much. Billy was just alone, just pacing around and mumbling to himself. You could see how angry he was in his body language. You closed the door behind you, “Billy, Love, are you alright?”

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t stop pacing. “Do I look fucking alright to you, y/n?”

You kept your temperament even and you were so glad that Max was off at the mall with the Party right now. “What happened?”

“Fucking Neil! Ugly bastard called the cops on me.”

“What? Did the cops come here?” You had only been gone for like an hour; you picked up all the members of the Party and drove them to Starcourt.

“Just Hopper, thank fuck. He said he recognized your name from when Neil called the station. He came to check on everything and told me he would handle Neil, but fuck! Why can’t he just leave me alone? I’m completely fucking moved out at this point. I live here with you and I’m not a fuckin’ burden to him anymore,” he seethed. His teeth were clenched together so tightly you were worried they would break.

“I’m so sorry, Billy. You handled it well; let’s get you a drink and sit down for a minute. I’m worried about you,” you said. You started to reach your hand out toward him, but he pulled back and glared at you.

“Don’t treat me like a child. I know I’m a burden to you too. You don’t have to pretend to care about me.”

You were dumbfounded. “What? Billy, you are not a burden to me. You never have been and never will be. Your brain is just saying that because you’re raging. You’ll be okay, I promise you’re safe here.” It was the first time those words had ever come out of his mouth. You couldn’t bare the thought of him considering himself a burden to you. “Honey Love, you are the most important person in my life. Your mental health doesn’t make you a burden, it makes you human.”

Normally, when you said things like that, he would go soft. He would fall into your arms and you will hold him until he was ready to talk about what was going on in his brain. Again, today was different than usual. He had really gotten into his own head while you were gone. “Stop lying to me, you fucking bitch! You don’t care about me! No one–”

“God I hate you sometimes. I hate your brain sometimes, fuck!” You cut him off with your cursing. His near-constant pacing stopped as you put your hands over your eyes. “I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I could take your trauma and lock it away and throw the key into the fucking ocean, but I can’t! I don’t know how to help you when your rage transfers to me. I know you aren’t really mad at me, but fuck it hurts…” Your hands were becoming damp with your own tears.

“Baby…” Billy mumbled. His raging monster inside had been shut up with those sentences. The guilt was crawling up his spine and made him feel like he was going to be sick. He wanted to talk to you about feeling burdensome, but not like this. This broke everything in him. His one promise to himself was to not hurt you; he never wanted to hurt you. You told him that was unrealistic because he’s human and we are all capable of hurting people, but he still told himself not to hurt you. He couldn’t believe that he had let those words come out of his mouth. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’m pissed at Neil, not you. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You pulled your hands away from your face and he was standing still a little ways away from you. He looked absolutely horrified and you were sure that he was thinking all kinds of self-hating thoughts right now. You wiped your eyes and walked over to him with open arms. He hugged you back quickly and tightly. “I know, Love. You’re still going through things with Neil and there are still going to be bad days.”

“I never want to make you upset though… Fuck…” His face was hidden in your hair. You could feel him trembling. “I don’t want you to leave me, but I understand if you want to.”

You squeezed him tighter. “Absolutely fucking not. Even when things happen and we fight or you slip up, I know you’re trying to get through your pain. You’re starting to heal and I’m not going anywhere. You are not a burden, Billy Hargrove; not to me or anyone else. You are a human who’s got some growing to do... And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did either.”

“It's alright... I love you… so fuckin’ much,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Billy.”

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harcove · 2 years

Note

Can I request a fic billy x reader where the reader has came over to Billy’s house after school because no one is home but his dad comes back early and the reader has to hide from Neil and Neil starts to attack billy and you have to just sit and watch until Billy fights back and gets you and gets out of the house completely.. the reader didn’t realise the abuse billy was getting at home and billy is embarrassed but the reader admits that she has her own issues at home too with her father.

a.n: sorry this took me a bit; it was actually kinda hard to write, but I did enjoy writing it! Even if it's sad lmao. I tried to make it a bit happier near the end (I mean as happy as a situation like this can be, you know?) Anyways I love you guys and I hope you're all safe and okay <3

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!reader

Length: 4k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, depictions of abuse, abusive parents on both Billy and the reader's side, feelings of not being worth it, cursing, angry Billy, Billy is bad with regulating emotions. probably sp mistakes somewhere oop

Deserve To Be Happy - B.H.

Billy liked how you looked on his bed.

He felt that way no matter if you were naked, laying there with him or waiting for him, or if you were simply just sitting there (fully dressed) and cross-legged, bouncing a bit as you smiled at him.

Billy just enjoyed seeing you in his room or having you with him. Billy enjoyed you.

"So, I think we should work on that history essay," you break the silence as Billy is taking off his jean jacket and throwing it near you on the bed.

He's stretching his arms and looking at himself in the mirror, using it to make eye contact with you through the reflective glass. Billy's thick brows furrow at your suggestion, and his mouth sort of turns into a half-hearted scowl.

"I tell you that no one is gonna be home, and your first thought is doing fucking homework?"

You giggle and flop backward on the bed, hand on your backpack. If you were standing by him you would've used your thumb and smoothed it over the furrow in his brow. It was something you did a lot, and something he didn't seem to mind. Any time you touched him, it electrified him in the best ways possible. He could hardly resist you.

"Think of it like this," you begin, looking at his plain ceiling, with your arms spread eagle on his bed, "if we finish the essay we can do whatever we want. All night. And tomorrow, the day after- you know, till we get another essay."

You twist it around him like you're a snake. You're more sly and cheeky than you like to let on. And you know what to say to make him nearly bend and crack at times.

"You're making a really tempting offer there sweetheart," he moved away from the mirror, advancing towards you; once close enough you sat upright again on his bed, meeting his hands which moved into your hair and your neck, holding your head firmly to look up at him, "but I have a counter offer... We have some fun now, and I'll be more ready to start that essay. I can't focus right now."

His lips press into yours before you can even tell him that he knows that's how it won't go, and it's electric. It's warm and passionate, he's always so passionate- his emotions he likes to repress sometimes find themselves in these most intimate moments. He's intense as he presses his lips with force onto yours, needy and yearning. You hardly have time to breathe as you move your own lips against his and move your hands to hold his forearms.

He's always been good at getting what he wants. And he knows he wants you. He knows you can't resist him either.

When he pulls himself away from you, only leaving a few inches between your lips, it's only because he needs to breathe and so do you. He's slightly arching his back as you're still sitting on his bed and he's standing, but his hands are still on the back of your neck and head.

"Billy..." when you say his name your intention is to scold him; to tell him that you really should work on the essay first, because you know (and you know he knows) that his counter offer has a glaring flaw.

Having fun now was going to turn into all night. And then you really wouldn't do the essay.

However, your voice is a mixture of a breathy whisper and a whimper. It's almost as if you're moaning his name because he makes you feel some type of way. And you know he likes how it sounds based on the way his lips upturn triumphantly and how his eyes seem to fill with lust. His grip on you tightens and it threatens to elicit an actual moan from your lips.

He's always playing dirty. He knows how to play you like a fiddle in these moments.

But then it stops.

Suddenly, the moment is sizzling away as you both hear the front door to the house open, and two pairs of feet on the hardwood floor.

It's in a matter of seconds that Billy's entire demeanor changes. His hands loosen as he (reluctantly) pulls them away from your head and neck. He has become a completely different person in seconds, it's almost jarring.

His body is tense, and his posture is caged off. It's like he's preparing himself to fight. No, not fight. Defend.

Himself? You? You don't know.

"Jesus, he's not supposed to be home yet," you hear him curse under his breath. He's not happy anymore, but he's not angry either exactly, rather he seems a bit concerned, "of course, he's fucking home early."

"Who?" You question carefully, never really having witnessed this version of Billy Hargrove; one that was so put off kilter; one that seemed nervous. And it put you on edge also, "your dad?"

Billy's dad isn't someone he ever really talked about. He wasn't someone he liked to mention. You'd never met the man, so the only vision of him you had was a blank-faced man, generic in all things.

If you mentioned his parents (his dad namely since you were at least privy to the knowledge of the absence of his biological mother for some time now) he would get almost defensive. Simple, cagey responses. Annoyed almost. It was easy to conclude that Billy did not like his dad, or didn't get along with him at the very least.

Your mind was preparing you for some form of panic. Whatever energy Billy was putting off at that moment was one that seeped into you, and it felt oddly familiar.

"Come on-" he speaks quickly with a harsh undertone- but freezes when it sounds like one set of those feet, heavyset, is coming towards his bedroom, "fuck... Get in my closet. And don't make any noise."

It's hardly you that makes the movement to go into the closet as his larger hands are grabbing your arms tightly and forcing you to stand from the bed making you stumble a bit at the suddenness. Billy all but thrusts you into his small closet, your backpack thrown in after you which you hastily catch. He hasn't even met your eyes since the people came home.

Like he's hiding something in them. Or he's ashamed whenever he chooses to keep his eyes from yours it's because he's trying to hide.

The closet door closes in your face and you hold your bag close to your chest. It's pitch black in the small closet, slats letting in the natural light inside his bedroom. His cologne invades your senses from his clothes, mixed with fabric softener and the smell of cigarettes. It's all a very comforting scent to be surrounded by.

It has to be his father who was home, and he mustn't like Billy having girls over.

The sound of his door being opened with such force you thought it might have come off the hinges startled you, but you kept your mouth shut as he asked. No, told you to.

"Where's Maxine?" The voice is deep; demanding. It sends fear through you albeit it's muffled and not directed to you. It reminds you of things you only face at home, "she isn't in her room."

"She's at the arcade," Billy responds, he sounds angry, and annoyed, but it's reigned in- waiting, not letting himself be spoken to like that but inching towards caution.

"And you didn't drive her there?"

"No. She skateboarded with her friends."

It was true. That morning, when Billy picked you up for school and drove the three of you there, Max had told Billy she was going to the arcade after school with her friends and didn't need him to take her.

"You're supposed to watch her," if his voice could get any more menacing, it did.

"Neil..."

Another voice, one you do recognize. Susan, Max's mother. Billy's stepmother, though he doesn't call her that. Just Susan. She's nice enough from the dealings you had with her in the past but very timid. Like she follows, never leads.

Her voice falls upon deaf ears.

"I do watch her," Billy snaps back, standing a bit taller than he had been, "all the time. She isn't a little kid, she can do what she wants. I told you where she is!"

It's quick, but you see it all the same through the slats of the closet. If you weren't watching so intently, you may've missed the sudden motion with a blink. Billy was suddenly grabbed by his shirt, pushed back into the wall behind him, and the man was in his face.

It made your stomach drop. It made every bone in your body feel overcome with an unending chill. It's haunting. The way this scene plays before you as you realize that Billy and his father don't just not get along- his father is abusive.

It's right there in front of you as suddenly all the sounds around you turn into a buzzing in your ears. You can't hear what they're saying anymore as you cover your own ears, you don't want to hear him berate the man you love, you don't want to hear him hit him. But you see it still.

You still see the way a heavy-handed fist collides with his face, the way his heavy hands push into him and corner him, with their only intent being to scare; to dominate, and hurt. The way Billy seems so much smaller than you'd ever seen him in your time knowing him.

And you can't do anything.

You can't move, you can barely even breathe in the tiny enclosed space. You want to jump out and help but there are so many reasons that's a horrible idea. Your presence could make this all the more worse, considering he hid you on purpose. It could make Billy angry.

You know you wouldn't be able to help anyways. This scene is too familiar; it's too raw.

Billy was a safe haven from your home, your father; your parents. But you never told him that. Just like how he hadn't told you this.

And suddenly it all makes sense.

The way he acted sometimes, how angry he could get and how defensive he could be. The way he would keep every emotion inside and let it explode at times. Or the way he enjoyed the power he had at school. How people were scared of him at times. It all made sense. It made so much more sense.

You wished it didn't make sense. Why did it have to make sense? Why?

Susan doesn't do anything. She just turns away from the scene in front of her. As if hiding her eyes, pretending she doesn't see, makes her an unknowing participant; protects her from any shame for not helping. Or trying.

Billy is used to that. He is used to his stepmother pretending it isn't happening even when it's smack dab in front of her face. He is used to the world pretending.

He is used to pretending.

Usually, Billy would let this play out. Because the wrath of Neil Hargrove wasn't something you wanted to fight back against; it made things worse whenever Billy spoke back. He would endure, because what else could he do? Nothing he did changed anything. Nothing would.

But this time it isn't just him in this room. You're here, inside his closet, and he can only imagine the thoughts running through your head.

If he wasn't so scared Neil might see you through the slats, find you, and do something worse maybe not just to only him but to you, he might've felt red hot shame. Embarrassment. To see him like this? He's broken. And you can see it too. In the flesh.

The very idea that you were in danger because of his father and by proxy himself for bringing you here is what drives his actions. Anger, and adrenaline. He doesn't feel the pain in his face where Neil's fist had made contact. He reaches back and pushes against his father. The way his hands grip his father's shirt back feels empowering but foreign all the same.

"Get the fuck off me!"

Billy is stronger than his father realizes, and maybe it's because Billy never pushes back against him.

"How dare-"

The front door opens again, and Susan is calling Neil's name again. With actual urgency this time.

"This isn't fucking over," he seethes in his son's face. Is it really his son? If he were a father, a real father, he wouldn't be hurting the one he should be protecting. Loving, "respect. And responsibility."

The situation was hardly defused, but his father was leaving. He never just left it at that. And, he made it clear that he wasn't just going to leave it at that.

Maybe it was the shock that Billy pushed him back, or the fact Max was home (not that Neil cared anymore if Max saw) and Susan was calling to him even though he rarely listened to her when she said his name in those moments.

Billy doesn't know what it is. He doesn't really care at that moment however as he stalks out of his room with Susan hot on his tail. The only thing he's thinking about is you, inside his closet, and getting you out of here, away from him.

When he closes his bedroom door and takes big steps to the closet, opening it urgently, you're standing there, hands on your ears still, but your eyes are wide.

Wide with fear, with sadness, shock- he can't pinpoint it. And yet again, he doesn't care, not to sound harsh, but at that moment he does not care. Because he just wants to get you out, then he can worry about how you're feeling or what you're thinking.

Deal with the piece of his life he hid from you being laid bare; deal with the possibility you don't want him anymore.

This is too much.

"Come on, grab your shit," he says between his teeth, it almost sounds like he's mad at you. But he isn't.

You don't move, you can't. Everything is too much and it's not that you're feeling sorry for yourself, it's that you can't believe you didn't notice. How did you not notice before? He had all the signs. You should have noticed.

Especially since you were in that situation too.

Neil Hargrove is like your father with the anger he carries. Your father uses words to beat you down more than fists- but you felt that before too. And you feel sick to your stomach. Because now, the person you love is facing this too, or he has been.

And now the place with him is no longer a safe place because Neil Hargrove is bad. He is there.

"Seriously," he grabs your backpack you'd dropped at your feet, not even sure when you had, and grabs your wrist tightly, pulling you from the closet, "now isn't the fucking time to stand there like an idiot. I need to get you out of here."

He pulls you from the closet fully, you're still pretty out of it as he opens his window.

"Climb out. I'll meet you at my car."

You look at him, round eyes worried, not wanting to leave him. Like if you do, he might not come back outside and you'd be there alone. You don't want his dad to do anything else to him.

"Jesus," his patience is thin but again, it's not your fault, "go- before he comes back. I'll see you outside."

It's best to just listen, so you do. You slide out his window shakily, throwing your backpack out before you. You chance a look back into the window, he doesn't look at you as he grabs the jean jacket he had on when the two of you got there and throws it on hastily. He slams his door shut after he grabs his car keys off the dresser by his door.

It's your cue to go to the car- you quickly scoop up your bag and run over to his Camaro.

You see the end of him slamming the front door shut and the muffled noise of someone yelling. But he doesn't turn back to it, he just keeps moving forward.

It's all fast. He unlocks the car, and opens the passenger side for you, closing it harshly when you sit inside.

You have to remember: what he's feeling right now isn't directed toward you.

Somehow Billy remembers to turn the radio sound down to zero before he starts his car. Usually, he doesn't, sometimes he really does forget- but sometimes he just thinks it's sort of funny (and cute) when you jump at how loud it is when he starts the car. It never gets old.

Yet this time he's aware. And he's becoming more aware of just how rigid your body is in the passenger's seat as he pulls the car out onto the road; he doesn't have a plan on where to go. Just go. Just get away from the house, away from Neil. Maybe if he drives far enough, all these problems, all this pain, will go away too.

But it never does.

Billy drives fast. He always does, and this time it's no exception.

In any other situation you may have scolded him; told him to slow down before he got the two of you killed. But you can't even find your voice, it's as if it's been stolen from you.

The only thing you can do is sit there, stiff as a board. Mouth shut tight, lips turning pale from how you bite them closed from the inside. You want to cry, but you can't- for some reason, it feels like if you move, everything might just fall away.

To be so lost in your mind is scary. You want to rewind the day and start over. Maybe bring Billy somewhere that wasn't his house, or maybe you would somehow stop his dad. But how could you? You were just a scared little girl at that moment.

You felt like his step-mom Susan. She did nothing.

Or your own mom. She didn't stop your father from hurling words at you. So long as it wasn't herself, she was content to let it be.

Why did people have to be content with their loved ones being hurt? If only because at least it's not them.

"Babe?"

Billy's been trying to speak to you for a whole minute now. But you've said nothing, barely acknowledged him. The car was parked off the side of an empty road for a few minutes, and you didn't even notice.

"You're freaking me out," he says louder, moving his hand to shake your shoulder.

It only makes you flinch, and he stops, hand hovering. When you look to meet his eyes, you see it in them. Hurt. Your reaction triggers something deep inside him. Something deep that thinks- I am my father, and I will be my father.

He pulls his hand back, anger evident on his face.

"How long?"

Your voice sounds so fragile. It is. You feel like the world has been thrown off its axis, and things are slowly crumbling; the facade around you has been cracked.

"Since I was a kid, it was my mom mainly at first," Billy surprisingly answers your question, "worse after my mom left."

Billy loved his mom. He made it clear on the very, very rare occasion he mentioned her to you. He loves her.

And yet you find that you hate her at that moment. You hate her. Because how could she leave him? How could she leave such a beautiful boy, a child, now grown into an adult, with a man who did this?

When would parents be parents? When would they do the job they undertook when they conceived you? Because it seemed like they only wanted to slack. To do nothing.

Tears spill over your cheeks. So many tears it is hard to see, but the image of his busted lip is burnt into your mind.

"Why are you crying?" Billy sounds off put still, but now he's worried; he was never good with tears. Never good at comforting people when they cried. He could barely handle himself when he cried, "...fuck."

"It's not fair," you manage to get out between tears, "I'm sorry Billy."

Billy doesn't speak. He misconstrues your words as pity- pity he doesn't want or need. Billy Hargrove didn't want pity, it only made him angry. Pity did nothing. Pity wasn't even a comfort.

"I don't want fucking pity," he snaps out, hands clutching the steering wheel. His knuckles are so pale, he has to he hurting his hands, "so don't."

"It isn't pity," you respond quickly.

It's not pity. It's empathy. Because you get it. You understand that feeling, of the people who gave birth to you not loving you but only giving you hate. The feeling of unjust anger being hurtled towards you because that's how it has always been- even if you didn't do a damn thing wrong. The frustration that you can't do a damn thing about it because fighting back always makes it worse.

"My dad is bad too," you follow up on your previous statement; the wording feels so juvenile. Like you're a child who thinks bad means daddy wouldn't let you eat cake before dinner, "...he's angry. All the time. And I take the brunt of it. It's why I don't... Like having you over too often."

The air around the two of you is thin. Your fingers curl up in your lap as you wait. Your father never beat you the way Billy's dad beat him- you'd been hit before, pushed around, but never like that.

It was almost like Neil was going for the kill. Maybe he was- but he contained it. Hidden abuse was better than a jail sentence for the murder of his own child.

"Fuck," Billy's voice is quiet, till it's suddenly not, "fuck! I... That piece of fucking shit, he hit you?"

"Not... Not like that- it's usually just words, it's okay it's... You're hurt."

The acknowledgment of his lip feels so ridiculous in those moments but it is there.

"Who cares?" Billy is a ball of negative emotions waiting to explode, "I can deal with people fighting me, with Neil being a piece of shit, and Susan doing jack fucking all. I'm a piece of shit, that's been established. But you? I could fucking kill your dad."

"I care! You're not a piece of shit, it doesn't matter what people think because they don't know you, or me! If I don't deserve this, neither do you. You don't... I just wish I knew, I should've noticed. I should've..."

Billy's hands are on your neck as he pulls you to him across the console of his car. It's an awkward motion at first, but you twist your body instinctively to fit into his arms like putty.

His arms are tightly wound around you. And it doesn't scare you, no, it makes you feel safe. As if everything around you is fine.

"If you should have noticed it, I should have noticed too, I'm an idiot," It's muffled in your hair as he keeps you pressed against him.

It's quiet for a few moments as you hold one another. For once it isn't an intimate moment filled with a passion for something more profound, but it is one filled with love and comfort. It's an intimacy that offers protection and safety; it offers a promise that things are going to be okay. They have to be okay.

"We're getting the fuck out of Hawkins when school is over."

It's not a question or a suggestion. It's a statement on Billy's part.

"What about Max?" Leaving sounds divine with him, but Max is there, and Neil...

"Max... Fine, if we aren't leaving Hawkins, we're sure as hell moving into our own place. Away from them."

That's a promise too. One that you believe from the bottom of your heart. You're in this together, and always have been, even when you didn't know that your parents and his were a sole of a multitude of problems.

Billy deserves to be happy, to get away someday. And so do you.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things #st #mine #my writing #amy writes #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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hopewritcs · 1 year

Note

Eddie Munson x Hargrove!Reader, song 72?

“A (K)NIGHT’S SILVER LINING.”

pairing: eddie munson x f!hargrove!reader

song: shit happens.

notes: when i say i had to count twice bc i almost did the wrong song... y’all we ain’t good at math but we’re tryin to be good at writing here !! i hope you enjoyed this fic my loves. set in a pre s4 au world: for the tl:dr of it all billy is alive but neil still left susan, billy & you have a trailer adjacent to max & her mom. everything else is explained in the fic.

trigger warning: mentions of neil hargrove, allusions to past abuse, parental death & abandonment

word count: 1.5k

part of spotify wrapped drabble night : accepting !

You should have known it wound wind up like this. Stranded at school, because of course your brother would leave without telling you. You couldn’t blame him -- at least, that was how you tried to explain it away in your head -- because after the summer you’d spent with Billy recuperating, and your father leaving and then losing the house and Susan kicking you out to live with Billy, it was only natural that both yourself and Billy were a bit tortured.

But to leave the school without you? Well, he just did that regularly now. At least last year he would have waited and sped off with you and Max in the seats alongside him in whatever foul mood he was in.

He had to repeat the year after everything happened the summer before and he was pissed off, he didn’t want to be like Eddie Munson, who he’d pointed out to you on numerous occasions as a freak to avoid--not like you saw anything wrong with Eddie other than a penchant for wearing his personality out in the open and not giving a shit about what everyone else in the school thought.

There he was, repeating the year next to you, his younger sister, and bitter as hell that he was stuck in this place again.

So there you were, deciding how to deal with all of that and knowing that you were in for a walk home. There were only a few cars left in the parking lot, and at the point you were getting out you knew most of them probably belonged to the jocks that had practice--and none of them were likely going to give you a ride.

A reluctant huff fell from your lips as you made your way down the path, heading for the street to make your way home when you heard someone calling your name, it wasn’t a familiar voice but still you stopped and turned around spotting Eddie Munson packing up his van.

“Uh, yeah?” you replied, hesitating as you shuffled steps backward toward the car and him. It briefly crossed your mind that maybe this was somehow a set up, a cruel set up by your older brother.

“If you don’t mind making a stop at the music shop in town, I can give you a ride.” Eddie offered, shrugging his shoulders with his hands shoved into the pockets of his top jacket, looking over at you.

“What’s in it for you?” It came out more defensive than you’d intended it to be, but you were used to having your guard up. You were a Hargrove, had to deal with Neil and Billy your entire life. You’d lost your mother. That was enough for you to know that things were never just handed to you. But, what you couldn’t figure was why the school freak was offering you a ride home.

His eyebrows raised as he looked at you, shaking his head, “Nothing. You can walk back to Forest Hills for all I care.” His tone was part defensive, part dejected as he spoke and turned around to get into his car. He was mumbling to himself as he opened the door to his van.

“I’m sorry,” you called out hastily, apologetically, causing Eddie to stop and turn back to look at you. “I suck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that’s nice of you and you don’t--we don’t know each other.”

“It’s not like we don’t go to the same high school, what horrible monster could I possibly be?” Eddie was practically laughing as he replied. He didn’t notice the way your eyes widened at the comment, the thought of everything from last summer still fresh in your mind. He didn’t know. “Unless you believe what people say about me, which is just bullshit cause they don’t understand people who aren’t popular jocks and conform to their standards.”

You shook your head, “I don’t really listen to what people say. I’d rather figure it out for myself.” Which, ironically, was how you’d wound up in the whole mess with Hawkins and your ex-step sister Max in the first place--trying to figure out things on your own rather than listening to the rumor mill and what other people ( your brother Billy, namely ) had to say.

“Well then, your chariot.” Eddie bent over dramatically, his hair falling into his face as he gestured to the van.

You’d never really noticed him before. Sure, Eddie Munson was a spectacle in the Hawkins High hallways--making a scene just for being different and being the multi year senior and running hellfire club--but you’d never really noticed him.

He was softer than you expected, given the antics he tended to pull and the stories--rumors--you overheard from people in the cafeteria and the classrooms over the years.

Maybe he was different than you expected him to be, than your brother and everyone else had told you he was going to be. Then again, you didn’t know how much you expected of people these days.

“My knight in shining armor.” You joked back, heading to the other side of the van and getting inside.

The drive was quiet, like neither of you were sure what to talk about, or if you really should be talking. As he pulled up to the music store in town he almost hesitated, turning to look at you like he was going to ask a question.

You were already getting ready to get out of the van when you realized his door hadn’t opened so you turned to look back at him, “So, what are you looking for?”

“Some new records came out recently.” Eddie shrugged as he got out of the van, following your lead and then holding the door to the music shop for you. He was doing his best to seem nonchalant, but the truth was he was surprised--you’d gone from being almost entirely standoffish to being willing to be seen in public with him in the matter of a car ride. He wasn’t used to that. “And there’s some stuff we got in for Corroded Coffin that I need to pick up cause I’m the only one with a car big enough to fit all our supplies anyway.”

“Okay, you’re in something called Corroded Coffin and something called Hellfire Club? I know what Hellfire is cause of,” the twerps, the kids, it was what you called them and what you wanted to say, but you paused because you didn’t know Eddie--did the kids even talk about you in those meetings? Probably not. You’d barely seen them this year, the ones you saw most were Max--which was obvious because she lived right by you, and you wouldn’t dare let her think that just because Billy could be a shithead that you cared any less about her and wanted her out of your life--and, surprisingly, Lucas--who, despite breaking up with Max and focusing a lot on his basketball game, had made it a point to say hi every time he saw you and had even taken to sitting by you when he saw you in the library.

“School, right.” Eddie nodded his head as he flipped through the records on the new releases shelf that was right at the opening, waving a hello to the worker behind the counter who seemed to know Eddie right away and went off to the back to probably get his order ready. “Corroded Coffin is my band.”

“Band? That’s cool.” You nodded your head, thumbing through the records and spotting a Kate Bush release you didn’t have and wondered if Max had it either. “What kind of music do you play?”

“Rock, metal. Some covers, some originals. Where we play people tend to not pay attention, but when they do they like the covers better.” Eddie said, glancing up from what he had in his hands and looking down at the record in yours. “Definitely different than Kate Bush.”

“Are you making fun?” You asked, making a face at him, rolling your eyes as you looked at what was in his hands. “Not all of us just love Metallica. I mean, sure, their music is good.”

“Good?”

“You’re acting like I just made fun of your music choice.”

“Good is like saying it’s fine. Like you tolerate it.”

“Did you not just have that same reaction to Kate Bush? Except yours sounded like you were holding back a wince. Agree to disagree, or whatever.”

You had to admit that despite how the afternoon had started, you were pretty glad that it had gone that way because now you were actually having fun for the first time in, honestly, a really long time. The rest of the afternoon in that shop was spent back and forth about music, and you could tell that it wasn’t the last time you would be there with Eddie Munson.

And that it might just have been the beginning of something special.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #hope's drabbles

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reineyday · 1 year

Text

ppl who think billy hargrove not being racist means he's ooc either 1) dont understand how writing a consistent character works, or 2) believe that being racist is strictly a personality trait, and dear god i hope it's the former.

(long post) (seriously, it's like, a short essay lol)

see, the beautiful thing about fanfiction is that you can place your blorbos in a whole bunch of Situations, and if you're a good writer--or at least understand the character well enough--it wont be ooc even if their Situation is diametrically opposed to anything they might ever do in canon.

billy is a metalhead in canon, but you could write an au where he's in a pop music teen boy band with steve and eddie and argyle and jonathan. as long as billy remains loud and proud about his music taste, plays his (pop) music loud enough to drown out anyone he doesnt want to hear talking to him (itd be funny if it was his own voice in the song too lol), is pretty mean on first impression, and still generally has a lot of friction with the people around him, i wouldnt actually drop the fic bc i found it ooc. as much as your music taste can say a lot about you, if you underdstand a character well enough, keeping the rest of the things about that character consistent and giving an understandable background to all the things that might be different at first glance, then it's not really out of character at all.

so if we're talking about canon billy being ooc for not being racist, youd really have to read the fic. a billy who, immediately after the incident at the byers house, gets a stern talking-to from max and/or steve (and/or neil? which, doubtful, but idk how billy haters write fics lol) and then turns around to grovel at lucas's feet and pronounces to the world that racism is wrong and he's learned his lesson once and for all and also he'll never be mean to any of the kids ever again? yeah, i would call that ooc.

a billy that gets dragged through hell and back and sees and understands that his violent actions not only have consequences but reflect those of his own abuser's at home? or a billy that ends up reluctantly becoming fond of the kids as he inadvertently has to shepherd them through tunnels with steve and beat up demodogs so he can bring maxine home safe? or a billy that meets patrick from the basketball team and recognizes the kinds of bruises he sees in the locker room on him bc he has his own, and then learns what it means to see someone as a person? or even a billy who gets called the f-slur consistently by his own father, learning to see bigotry in other forms and recognizing it in himself, gets given the emotional support and physical safety by joyce or jim or steve, and in the end consciously chooses to be different than his father now that he has the safety to do so?

if any of those billy's go up to lucas after everything and looks him in the eye and apologizes and says he's trying to do better, especially if he does it in a way that's rough around the edges--i wouldnt call any of those ooc. it's all hard-won. it's all still billy, but he grows as a character, which i assume is the goal in general when writing characters.

this brings me to the second point. this is the one i personally hc, but i dont think it's ooc to assume billy's less maliciously racist, and more racist as a way to (unconsciosly) parrot his obviously bigoted and domineering father. billy's probably racist in the way most people dont realize they have racial bias (i would say most white people, but im aware this is true for poc of all sorts assuming things about other poc--and even about themselves with their own race and culture--simply through lack of personal experience, knowledge, or being othered by society/their environment to the point of internalized self-hatred), and probably more grievously again bc his father seems like such a bigot. i personally think the racism comes in part and parcel of the way he manhandles max and gets aggressive at first sign of his losing power in a situation: because that's how his own father does things to exert power over billy. he's acting the only way he's seen exemplified in front of him. (let's remember he is a teenager who has been in an abusive environment his whole life, with no confirmed emotional support of any kind.)

i hc billy to be about as racist as he is terrifyingly repressed after being called the f-slur and insulted for being effeminate by his father all his life. all that insulting about being effeminate probably also means he comes off as sexist too. he doesnt necessarily want to be any of these things, and would consciously learn to be better once he's made aware and has people in his life he wants to be better for, but he is these things as an unfortunate byproduct of the way he grew up.

but we saw billy try to protect his mother as a child, and face up to the mindflayer--a monster that possessed him, that he had no clue about or any context for bc he didnt know about the upside down at all--in order to protect el. it's not a far leap to think he would want to change and protect, to stand up and be better, if given the chance and the support.

so i personally hc that while billy might do racist things, he is not, as a trait, inherently maliciously bigoted. my way of viewing billy has always been that anything bigoted he might do or think stems from his father, and if he gets given support and safety away from his father, i think billy would choose to be different from his dad and do the hard work of extracting himself from that bigotry and becoming better as a person. (see also: homophobic steve from s1 turning into robin's biggest cheerleader in s4.)

it's all about the context, and things like music taste or racial bias can change if your context changes. but if most of your other character traits--your aggression and peacocking, your tendency toward sarcasm, penchant for overt flirting, your determination or bravery or recklessness, etc etc--if those stay consistent while some other things change, and you get context for the changes, then it's not ooc.

now, how does this relate to my 2nd point? if you read all that context and decide that it's still objectively ooc simply for the fact that billy's not racist, then you're viewing racism as an inherent personality trait--everyone that ever does anything racist is automatically racist to the bone and cannot change.

i find that worrisome.

okay it's one thing if you're the poc in question being targeted by the racism. ive been talking about billy this entire time, but i also 100p believe lucas has every right to never want anything to do with billy ever again. he can say no to any apology he might receive. he's protecting himself and that's valid. if someone's racist toward you, especially aggressively, you obviously have every right to never want to have to do anything with them ever again. in real life situations, protect yourself first.

but i want to caution those who think that racism is a character trait to remember that you can do racist things and not consider yourself racist. my worry is that people ignore racist microaggressions to preserve their belief that theyre not racist.

taken as an example from my own life: if you're going to insist that a certain food from a certain culture is "weird" and then say over and over that you didnt mean it in a bad way but cmon you have to admit that it is a bit a weird, and then you get all uppity when i express my concerns and unhappiness about the way youre talking about how i grew up and defend the fact that youre right and the food is weird? yeah see that's shitty. all because you dont want to admit that maybe youve said or done something a little bit racist, cuz obviously youre not a racist, it's not one of your personality traits. you might feel better about defending your identity as not-a-racist, but in the end all you did was ignore what a poc was trying to tell you about how they felt, which is so frustrating to deal with as a poc.

yeah, bigotry can be a personality trait, but it isnt always. sometimes it's an action or some words coming from a person who doesnt realize that theyre being bigoted.

billy is a fictional character. you can interpret him however you want, and indeed, you can make him as nasty a racist as you choose to. you can write him as killing children if you want, seeing as how so many antis insist on calling him a child murderer (even though he's been a lifeguard so if anything he's saved children's lives--and this is not including how we see him on screen literally saving el's life, who is also a child).

also, if his racist actions made you super uncomfortable, it's perfectly okay to call him a racist and move on with your life. that's not a problem until you start harassing people for being racist because they like billy--then, like a microaggression, you become the problem because you're unilaterally deciding who is racist based off a fictional character, and youre harrassing a real life person for it. furthermore ive seen plenty of poc billy stans be called a racist by antis who insist that anyone who likes billy is a racist. again, you're just not listening to poc for some sort of fake moral superiority, which is not cool.

after looking at the environment billy grew up in and continues to exist inside, and his actions toward el and the way he used to treat his mother (before she left him), i choose to believe that even though the way he treated lucas was racist, he can step up and change if given the opportunity.

if you still think that it's not possible for him to stop being racist without it being out of character, please re-examine your own thoughts and actions, stay conscious about listening to people of colour, and remember that people who dont consider themselves racist can still do racist things. bigotry isnt always a character trait okay? it's the way you treat other people. it's not in any way out of character to believe--or write--that someone who's done racist things can change.

#cw racism #fandom wank #racism #tw racism #rei rambles #stranger things #fandom discourse #discourse #billy hargrove #hell u can even write a maliciously bigoted billy learning that racism is bad and make it in-character #itd just be a looooooooong and VERY involved fic that probably includes a lot of therapy and patience from other people #now could neil ever be not-bigoted without being ooc? hashtag doubt #it's possible i suppose but he's a less dimensional character so it's harder to pick up on any nuance to squeeze something more favourable #i guess that's the thing: people who think billy nkt being racist would automatically be ooc #probably didnt pick up on the nuance in his character and think he's one-dimensional.#even tho he's 100p one of the most dimensional characters in the entire show. mb more than mike tbh.#also people who look at steve's homophobic remarks in s1 or the way jonathan literally took creepy photos of nancy #and are like 'oh it's period-typical' like...... really? really????#at least in the 'i can excuse' meme the racism isnt the one getting shafted this time i guess #all of it is bad yall. all of it. dont let steve or jonathan off the hook either.#ok now to go back to this pop star ST boys au lmao it hurts me a little imagining a billy (and eddie) that's into pop music #but ye again it wouldnt be ooc as long as u navigated it right #tho if i were to actually write a boy band au id say that steve is the only one that actually listens to pop music for fun lol #and maaaaaaybe argyle. maybe. i think jonathan and billy and eddie would have pop songs the enjoy #but it wouldnt necessarily be their genre and they listen to indie/metal/rock outside of work hours #and prob have their own lil band and write things away from their corporate lil boy band #found this in my drafts and it still checks out so ima post it lol.#saw ANOTHER post with an anti that called billy fans racist and im so tired of this.#i feel like everyone who says this is just doing performative social justice. please step off.#ur not morally superior u just dont understand fiction or nuance. pls learn critical thinking bc it's a great skill.

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Everyone who knew Billy Hargrove had thought that even though he had only been in town for a short time, he wouldn’t be leaving without making his mark on Hawkins High when he graduated. He was their new top dog, their poster boy in all things social, athletic, and academic, so it only made sense he’d choose to go out with a bang.

Graduation is held outside on the football field, a first for the school because the senior class of ‘85 is made of up of too many kids to hold it in the gym like usual, which would theoretically give him the perfect opportunity to screw around and ruin the formal ceremony.

What nobody had expected though, was for him to be sitting up straight and attentive at graduation, his hair pulled up in a bun under his cap and his earring left at home, wearing a pair of dress shoes he couldn’t afford, with all kinds of pins and cords and even a valedictorians medal adorning his robes.

And nobody expected him to wait at the head of the stage as his full name, William Reuben Hargrove, was called, walking across in perfect time and doing every polite handshake, smiling at the teachers and administrators and getting his photo with his diploma in hand and a respectable smile on his face.

Because he was one of four valedictorians above two salutatorians, he wasn’t given the opportunity to read his own speech, but rather was chosen to read the graduates address. His reputation preceded him, and it was clear from the tension sparking the air that everyone, including the parents, expected him to pull something when called to the stage and given the microphone.

But he didn’t, he stood proud and read it off loud and clear, or at least recited it from memory that way, Max had to read it to him for weeks in practice because he couldn’t power through and read it, the text small and too close on the page it all jumbled together, stepping down from the stage when he was done instead adding any words of his own,

It’s like a collective sigh is let out when he sits back down, Nancy taking her turn up on the stage to read the closing remarks and turn the tassels, and just like that the ceremony passes by without a hitch.

Because even though all knew who they thought Billy was, they didn’t know about the man he had to be in front of Neil Hargrove, watching from the bleachers.

Instead, what his peers had all wanted was for Billy to walk to his own tune, slouching in his seat and picking at his nails when he wasn’t supposed to be paying attention, fumbling the fancy walk and keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets as a big F-U to the school and all it stood for, and they definitely expected him to show up in a crumpled suit and scuffed old shoes, his hair a mess under the cap, looking like his true ragamuffin self.

Only, Steve Harrington was the one to do all that.

The rumor mill would have it that Stevie boy got wasted the night before graduation and was barely powering through it on a hangover. Truth would argue however, that he had woken up that morning alone, so depressed that no one, including himself, gave a damn about the accomplishment he had fought so very hard for, that he didn’t care about doing this stupid ceremony nobody would see anyways the right way, the Harrington way.

So he didn’t show up to senior assembly or to any of practices, he didn’t earn any scholarships or awards anyways, and he felt he hardly deserved the passing grades he was most likely given by sympathetic teachers who knew him all too well from retaking failed classes for years. He didn’t really feel like there was anything to commemorate, so he showed up, but only for the piece of paper, and maybe a little bit to prove his father who said he’d never be able to do it wrong.

After the ceremony was finished, they turned the field over to families to take pictures with their graduates, and graduates to take pictures with each other. Billy got a handful taken of him and his family by the school's photographer and Susan’s camera too, and a decent couple of Polaroids with the real friends he’d actually made, Tommy and Carol and Heather.

There were no pictures taken of Steve on his big day. He’d gone straight to the auditorium and gotten his diploma for the folder they handed him on stage, then drove himself home before anybody could stop him and ask for one.

~~~~~~~~~

It happens again in June when grad party season hits.

Among the most anticipated invites was the one to Billy Hargrove’s graduation party. Everyone was sure he’d have a big house party for the seniors, he always brought the life to the party like Hawkins had never seen it, it only made sense he’d have his own.

But again, his peers are mistaken, because nobody gets an invite other than that same handful of friends, and they all get theirs, along with a tiny print of Billy's unrecognizably serious senior photos, in the mail just like the rest of the Hargroves’ extended family.

Because his party is a family affair, an open house from eleven in the morning to four in the afternoon at an outdoor pavilion in the state park, where he’s supposed to dress nice and greet every member of the family with the same practiced smile, regardless of if he even knew who they were, or if they could tell the difference between him and his cousins.

None of it felt like real family to him though, when not even his mother could be bothered to come despite the effort he went through to get her an invite, and him and Max both playing the role of perfect children so well they almost forgot the other was there.

So him and his friends just sit at a table in the corner between making his appearances with great aunts who he didn’t even know, acting like ordinary kids under the watchful eye of Neil Hargrove until it’s over and they get to pack up the green and yellow decorations bought to be recycled for Max’s party again in four years and count all the money he’d gotten in cards, which he was supposed to be saving for college.

Steve again is the one to meet those expectations they held for Billy, the fallen keg king maybe not as undeserving of the title as they had thought.

As it turns out, his parents hadn’t been paying enough attention to realize it was time already to celebrate him, and it was far too late to send out invites if he wanted to have it before it was socially unacceptable but their standards at least, too much of his family living in Italy anyways, so he just had his own party.

The sort of party where kids came for the liquor, uncaring about the host of the state of their house after they're done getting their kicks, as long as they have something to do and a chemical codependency to form.

A couple of kids do actually bring him generic cards as congratulations, without money in them of course because they knew who he was and where he live, but not that his parents were planning on cutting him off as soon as they could, but most everyone else just came to get hammered, basically celebrating their own graduation with Steve’s money.

He’s miserable. He gets just as drunk as anyone else and passes out halfway through the party, waking up to a trashed house and a few stragglers on his lawn. Definitely not the type of celebration one has for their child they’re so proud of, or even actually gives two shits about.

~~~~~~~

Another expectation shattered, was the rivalry between Billy and Steve. They were supposed to be bitter enemies, the ex king shown up and beaten by the one who’d go on to steal his spotlight, but while they were different, from their personas and from each other botg, they were very much the same, and they recognized that in each other.

After they had thanksgiving break to let the tension between them cool off, things moved quickly from making friends at a house party neither of them wanted to be at to making out in the back seats of the Camaro.

By June they’ve been going steady for a couple of months already, but even though they’re officially at boyfriends status, Billy doesn’t go to Steve’s party. It was the night before his own and he’s pretty sure Neil would’ve killed him if he had stumbled home wasted just a couple of hours before he was supposed to look nice and represent the family well. Steve told him he didn’t expect him to come to something like that anyways, knew the party scene was for the side of Billy everybody but Steve liked to see, so he doesn’t go.

Steve does end up showing at Billy’s though, not able to stay long because Billy was sure Neil would see them for what they were, even if another of the assumptions about him was that he and Heather were dating. So he just drops by with a card and his well wishes, pretending he was only there as a courtesy, being members of the same sports teams and all.

He slips the card in the box and gives Billy and Tommy a little, too cool for this, definitely ditching as soon as he can, wave, and that’s the end of it.

But what nobody knows, or could presume about them, is that Billy came back to his house that night, and they had their own little celebration, for the both of them. No parents who couldn’t be bothered or who controlled every last minor detail, no people there in the name of just family or just to have a good time.

Just Billy and Steve, the real them that nobody knew like one another did.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej!#does this make sense?#probably not but I’ve been feeling things so take it anyways #unedited because if I read through this one more time I think I will perish

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

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Neil is suddenly more “nice” to billy, and it actually makes him even more on edge. Billy thinks he must of found something out and is just waiting for the moment to punish him, but he doesn’t know what it could be about

(tw: f-slur, Neil Hargrove, mentions of abuse)

It happens more often than you'd think. About once a year, never at the same time and never with the same result.

Sometimes, it just so happens that Neil is happier for a day or two and it has nothing to do with Billy. Maybe he got a promotion or pay raise, and he's just feeling proud of himself and less confrontational.

Other times, it's because Billy did something to royally piss him off and Neil likes having the "element of surprise" even though Billy can feel it coming, like a rainstorm in summer.

This time, however, it's a few weeks before Billy turns 18. His graduation is two days away, Saturday, and Neil hasn't done a single thing. Hasn't made rude comments or pushed Billy into any walls or furniture in a week.

For now, Billy assumes it's because he's graduating and Neil doesn't want his face and arms covered in bruises when they take pictures and he has to stand in front of his classmates and their parents and have everyone looking at him.

But the niceties continue. The next week is fairly calm, Billy has been working pretty much the whole week and hasn't been home much, even been late once, but Neil hasn't said, hasn't done a single thing.

He's greeted him when he came home, told him there was a plate in the microwave with leftovers on it, even told him goodnight as he passed his room in the hallway.

The next week follows the same pattern.

Billy feels like he's just about ready to jump out of his skin. Every creek of the door and every cough and clearing of Neil's throat makes his heart skip a beat and he wishes something would just happen already.

The week after is good. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday all go smoothly.

Thursday, Billy wakes up to loud banging. He quickly opens his eyes and sits up in his bed, eyes slowly adjusting to the still-dark lighting of his room.

Neil is holding full trash bags and the crates that once formed his dresser were now full of his things.

"What--"

Neil slams down two trash bags outside of Billy's door.

"Well, up and at 'em, son! The big 1-8! You're an adult now!"

Billy feels thrown off from any balance he'd had before because he was expecting a fight, angry words with angrier actions. This, this he was not expecting.

"C'mon, son, you didn't think you'd be living with your old man forever, did you? You've got to learn responsibility. Get out there!" Neil looked elated with the situation. Billy was still in his ruffled sheets looking around at the bags and crates and otherwise empty room. "You've got a job, put that money to good use!"

"But--I haven't even got--"

"Well then maybe you shouldn't have been spending all that money on your shirts and hair shit, huh? I told you, responsibility is what makes a good man and you can't waste money on acting like a fag, son. You've got to make something of yourself,"

"I just--"

"You're a strong man, you can get this all out to your car, right?" Neil asked, but nodded and went towards the door anyway.

Billy felt like his head was being split open, he had maybe $20 and there was no way that all of his stuff would fit into his car. There wasn't enough time to think, he didn't even know what time it was, his clock probably packed away in a bag or crate. He was only wearing underwear and a t-shirt, for christ's sake.

Neil turned at the door, gave a small smile that made his mustache curl upward, "Happy birthday, son,"

#billy hargrove #neil hargrove #tw neil hargrove #stranger things #harringrove #not really harringrove but I feel like it gets more reads if I tag it as such #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove #tw f slur #tw neil hargrove #tw abuse mention

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pondermoniums · 3 years

Text

A Rant Nobody Asked for About Stranger Things season 3.

feat. my personal pet peeves.

Disclaimer: when I first watched Stranger Things 3, I massively enjoyed it. I thought it finally captured the 80s aesthetic and vibe with the colors, the neon, and music. I even enjoyed it the SECOND time I watched it, although I was officially aware of some major flaws by that point.

1. The Coca Cola flex.

CocaCola has been all over this show ever since Tommy handed Steve one as a makeshift ice pack after his fight with Jonathan in s1. And then by season 3 it’s just....obnoxious???? And so unnecessary??? Karen Wheeler’s drinking one by the pool in episode one. Billy knocks into someone during his first day being flayed, and a coke rolls over the concrete.

LUCAS DOES AN ENTIRE MONOLOGUE ABOUT NEW COKE.

I mean, Jesus, we get it. CocaCola basically owns Georgia, where a lot of American TV shows are filmed.....but......you’re literally CocaCola. This kind of flex is entirely unnecessary and therefore pathetic.

2. Karen and Billy

Okay, listen. I thought their interaction in season 2 was H I L A R I O U S. But I’m someone who has looked 21 since I was 14, thanks to being an early bloomer. I get it. The cocky prowess of looking older than your peers. Getting to look adults in the eye and get that tiny bit of respect with nothing more than just looking like they do. And, as a writer, the contrast between thirsty, older Karen with young and equally thirsty Billy is an odd pair of puzzle pieces that fit really hilariously - largely because it’s so unexpected, maybe. And frankly, I think it’s one of the first scenes where Dacre’s acting really made my eyes fall out of my head, he did so well.

But it should have ended there.

I’ve been to a LOT of public pools in my day (I’m 26 but hush), and I have NEVER seen older women thirsting over the lifeguards. Ever. It’s predatory - an attribute most women understand all too well - unprofessional, and just downright gross. Their whole interaction in s3 is for “the male lens,” which Hollywood really needs to figure out by now is outdated, predatory, disgusting, and not good writing.

3. Glossing over Billy Chugging Chemicals

Bouncing off of #2, is Karen’s total negligence of Billy’s condition. Many people have pointed it out before, but a row of mothers being completely ???? about Billy’s condition is a raging red flag of bad writing.

(Also that it was written by men, because women are hard-wired to be super aware of other women - a tactic of living on guard in a man’s world all the damn time. So you can always count on a mother, grandmother, or a brave teen/20-something to be the one to walk up to a person who doesn’t look well in order to check on them, even if you’re complete strangers. It’s happened to me, and I’ve done this for other people.)

These women literally stare at him for every shift of work he has, and they.....don’t do anything????

Karen WALKS IN ON HIM DRINKING CHLORINE. It actually took me the second watch-through to realize what he was doing in that storage room, and god, my heart just broke. It’s the only time we actually see a glimpse of Billy making himself flayed like the others. It’s so fleeting (maybe because we already get so much pain from his plot, and we do see what happens with the other flayed people) but it’s also one of the reasons, I think, that we have a whole fanbase ready and eager for his return.

We didn’t get a good glimpse of him poisoning himself to the point that he has to rely on the MindFlayer to stay alive. I’m not saying any of us want that, no way, but that’s my personal headcanon: in s2, Will was super protected and therefore capable of being separated from the Flayer. All of the Flayed IMMEDIATELY low-key drowned themselves in ice water to lower their temperature, and then chugged chemicals. They all die twice.

4. Billy. Just......Billy.

This poor boy’s plot was so pointless. It’s a special thing: creating such a good character and then doing fuck-all with him. The moment you realize his only purpose in season 2 was an introduction is....the beginning of a lot of disappointment. And no, he DIDN’T serve as an antagonist for Steve, because what happened? He slowed Steve down.

That’s it.

He doesn’t keep Steve from helping the kids in the tunnels. He doesn’t break him and Nancy up. He doesn’t gloriously out Steve’s bisexuality to the town by being his shameless lover.

He literally does nothing except just......be there? Looking gorgeous and providing a juxtaposing characterization for Max. That’s all. Billy’s treated like an accessory.

Then we arrive to season 3 and....I guess the only justification for his plot is sort of classic Greek tragic hero. He’s the new Keg King whose hubris makes him stand too long outside the warehouse, and thus, his downfall.

But here’s what’s wrong with that: Steve Harrington.

We were so spoiled with good writing for Steve. Steve had an incredibly refreshing and valid character AND redemption arc. Frankly, all the good writing goes to Steve in this show, so we expected the same writing to go to the other douche bag king of the show.

And we didn’t get it.

5. 80s Bullshit vs. Modern Audience

You can tell they’re trying to straddle the line between, “this is how people talked back then,” and, “this pertains to a modern audience.”

Example: Mike saying to Will, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.”

I know they did multiple takes of this scene with different variations of this line, and that’s the one the editors settled with. Regardless, I know I am not the only person who screeched with rainbow pride for Will’s sake. And it’s not the first time they’ve touched on very hot modern topics. Hopper touches on homophobia in season 1 - a fact I completely missed until I read an interview where the actor, David Harbor, mentions it, himself. Then I rewatched season 1 and realized, sure enough, he reacts poorly when Joyce tells him that Lonnie calls Will a f*g. It’s not even fatherly, “that should be my son, how dare he.” It’s straight up, “this kid might not be worth finding if he’s gay.”

Of course there’s the more obvious occasions where Steve calls Jonathan a queer and Neil Hargrove should come with his own neon trigger sign. Slut is a term that’s carelessly thrown around (as high schoolers are wont to do, sure).

But the thing that’s bothered me the most is Steve saying to Billy, “Were you dropped too much on your head as a child, or what?”

Maybe it’s just me being extremely sensitive to mental health stuff (also, WHY does Steve ironically get all the triggering lines? lol), plus he says it very soon after we finally know why Billy behaves the way he does. Just.....*long sigh*. I hurt, okay. Some parts of this show really hurt, and I don’t like “it was the 80s” as an excuse.

6. Lucas and Kali or, the Diversity Check Marks

One black kid. One. Then they gave him a sister. Cool. Somebody give these people BLM awards.

*eyes roll so hard my cat chases them across the floor*

You know what this reminds me of? The East Asian actor who trended in movies like The Goonies and Indiana Jones.

The only thing that even remotely makes this small drop of diversity okay, is that they made Lucas a major player in The Party, and cast a dope actress to be Erica Sinclair, and likewise made her a linchpin in the Scoops Troop plot.

But touching back to #5, you can’t use “it’s the 80s” as an excuse, nor can you say, “it’s white bread Indiana.”

BUT but but but Kali!!!!

You mean the character in one episode? Two, if you count the opening of season 2.

Listen. For all the bipoc folks who wonder, “Do white people realize how.....WHITE everything is?” as a white person, I can absolutely say:

Yes. We. Do. Fucking. Notice.

• • • • •

Well. That’s all lol If you made it this far, I’m sorry and thanks lol

Tip your artists and comment on fics because lord knows that where my seratonin comes from.

#ponder ponders #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #a sprinkling of #harringrove #i could probably find more things to nit pick #but these have been the biggest ones #might delete #rant

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Hug

Harringrove April prompt day 11, Hug. Billy can't take any more of his dad, but he gets a softer landing than he expects.

In the trailer, Steve’s fingers had pressed against his chest, and Billy’d followed them. He laid awake in bed after—as his lip healed, as the skin of his knuckles stopped pulling and stinging where they’d met Steve’s face.

He’d just...touched Billy, with his fingers, pushing him away, and Billy’d wanted to lean in, yank Steve Harrington in like he had on the basketball court, breathing his air. Billy laid on his bed breathing unevenly, remembering the way Tommy had just thrown an arm around Steve Harrington, rested his weight against him, and the way Steve had leaned into it, grinning and loose. Billy’s eyes had been on the space between them—the inches, or sometimes nothing as their bodies brushed, or pressed against each other, hot and sweaty over the keg or in the showers.

His brain had always been on the soft finality in his dad’s voice as Billy’s ears rang, or the ache in his head from getting cracked against the edge of the doorway. He’d seen Harrington’s hand squeeze Nancy’s shoulder, touching her arm with a smile before walking off to get her a drink. Billy couldn’t stop thinking about Harrington’s fingers, brushing her cheek.

The bed creaked as Billy scrambled up. Three o’clock in the morning, and he could not sleep, thinking about Steve Harrington’s fingers pressing lightly on his chest. He yanked his jacket on—not that denim was gonna do fuck-all in an Indiana winter, but it fitted tightly, and he grabbed the sides of it and yanked it tighter so it squeezed his arms and back, instead of just buttoning it up.

His dad had grabbed it, earlier, shaking Billy before shoving him away, and Billy’d breathed easier, with hands on him. Neil had grabbed the open edges and yanked, and Billy’d imagined Steve’s fingers, shoving him around.

“I don’t know how to get through to you anymore,” Neil had whispered in Billy’s ear. “And I don’t know why I keep trying.” The tired indifference in his face was worse than the contempt, somehow, and Billy’d grabbed his dad’s shoulder, for once, asking what the hell that meant. He’d lost his balance when Neil just shoved.

It’d be final, at least, he’d thought for a second, in the vertigo of falling, before his head hit the green-painted brick of the fireplace, his shoulder crashed into the fireplace set as he curled up, and Neil reached across him to pick up the poker. For a moment, Billy thought it was over, finally. He’d started laughing, and he spit blood on Neil’s pants, but Neil just tidied the poker stand, hanging up the little shovel and tongs like Billy wasn’t even there.

Maybe he wasn’t, Billy thought, watching as his father walked off into the other room, and Billy was just left there, his ears ringing.

The lock on his car was stiff with cold, but it worked eventually, and Billy climbed in, turned the volume up on the Scorpions, and didn’t let himself think until he was halfway to Harrington’s house. He parked across the street, just sitting there listening to music and taking swigs of a bottle of cheap tequila somebody’d left on his back seat.

The lights came on inside, and Billy smiled at his radio. Like always, when he was gonna start shit, his hands shook just a little, so he clenched one on his steering wheel, and one on the bottle of tequila. Against the lights of the house, Steve looked like a dark shape when he walked out.

Billy switched his car off and got out, leaned back against it, and waved, running his tongue around his teeth.

“The hell are you doing here,” Steve whisper-shouted, flailing his arms, like an idiot. He stayed well out of range. “Fuck off, Hargrove, I’ll call the sheriff, I swear to god—”

“Don’t call your daddy,” Billy whispered, raising his hands. “Look, Harrington, I’ll be good. I’ll—” he laughed, staring into Harrington’s wide brown eyes. “I’ll just stand here.”

“...what the fuck,” Steve hissed, backing away, and Billy ran around to get between him and his house.

“You can get your own back. Give you some free hits,” Billy told him, licking his lips as he imagined Steve grabbing his collar, and Steve’s fist connecting with his face. “Two for flinching, right, Harrington? Hit me.”

“Are you high,” Steve yelled, backing up.

“Hit me,” Billy hissed at him, holding his hands up and away. “Clock me one, go on, Harrington.”

“What are you doing here, fuck off—”

“Hit me,” Billy screamed at him, and Steve shoved him hard and then went inside before Billy even had time to stagger back up to his feet, leaving Billy with a skinned hand and knee in Steve Harrington’s driveway. “...fuck,” he whispered, not drunk enough to blur anything. Harrington hadn’t even hit him in the face, he thought vindictively, he’d just walked off. Billy rolled onto his back, staring up at the stars, and wondered whether Harrington was calling the police.

He was still there a while later, singing off-key and mostly numb, wondering if he’d turned invisible, when Steve wandered out. He leaned around the door warily. “I gotta go to school in the morning. I’m gonna run you over if you don’t move,” he said, and Billy burst out laughing, clapping his scabbed-up hand over his face.

“Said I wouldn’t move,” he whispered hoarsely, waving his cigarette. “Said...go ahead, hit me.”

“...the hell are you doing,” Steve groaned, crouching a few feet away, still out of reach, and Billy curled on his side to face him. He wondered if Steve would kick him away, if he crawled closer, and started snickering.

“Make us even, right?” Billy asked, baring his teeth in a grin. “Run me over. Come on, you fucking pussy, start up your car—”

“Jesus,” Steve sighed, rubbing his face, and Billy ran out of breath watching his long fingers. “I’m not gonna kill you, christ. Go home.”

He’d come this far to feel Harrington’s hands on him again, and the thought of going back to his house to be ignored, fucking giving up, and crawling like a pussy back to his room made his his throat even dryer. He tried not to picture his dad’s reaction to him walking out, and laughed.

“Hargrove!” Harrington yelled. “Go home!”

“Not...gonna...happen, Harrington,” Billy told him, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

“Why are you even here,” Steve hissed, dropping to sit cross legged, and Billy stared at him so long that Steve scrabbled at his hair in frustration. “Say something, holy crap.”

“...you wanna get back at me,” Billy said gruffly, and reminded himself of holding Steve Harrington down until he stopped moving, stopped breathing, almost. He was still so warm under Billy’s hands, his lips swollen, his fingers bloodied. Billy swallowed back a laugh, and some of it got out, shaky and uneven. His spine still ached from slamming into the doorframe, and his upper arms let him know they were bruised every time he shifted. “Fuck me up, Harrington, it’s what I’m here f—”

“Go home,” Harrington said, standing up, and Billy pushed himself up, staggering.

“Wait, you fuck,” he hissed. “Stop fucking ignoring me—”

“Get the hell out of my face,” Steve hissed. “You really wanna end up down at the station?”

Billy stomped up and grabbed Harrington by his sweater, clenching it in both hands, and set himself for the blow when Harrington’s hand twitched.

“...what the hell,” Harrington said, after a few slow seconds of glowering into Billy’s face. “You’re stretching out my sweater, asshole.”

Billy shook him, and yelled “Hit me,” right up in his face, but Harrington just looked at him like he was a drunk, pathetic waste of time, and Billy clenched his hands harder, gritting his teeth, and hung on as Steve tried to dislodge him. “Fuck you,” Billy whispered, grappling in closer as his whole body hurt, from getting shoved into the door, shoved into the cement, and his voice got more and more hoarse. “End it, Harrington,” he whispered, and Steve stared.

“Nobody’s gonna ask where I went,” Billy told him, laughing, and letting go enough to run his thumb over Harrington’s parted lips. Steve jerked his head back, glowering, and Billy winced, grinning as he waited for the blow. “Come on, Harrington,” he whispered, yanking Steve close until their lips almost brushed. “What do I gotta do, huh?”

“...what’s going on,” Steve blurted, as Billy let go of his sweater, and smoothed it back down, waiting for Steve Harrington’s dumb brain to figure out what Billy was doing.

“Nothing,” Billy whispered, hoarsely.

“Why’re you here trying to die,” Steve hissed. “What is this shit, Hargrove—” His hands were up between his chest and Billy’s, waiting, and Billy let himself tip into them, feeling Steve Harrington’s fingers against his skin where he hadn’t buttoned his jacket. He grunted a little, deep in his throat, and Steve jerked his hands away.

Steve moving his hands meant Billy stumbled into him, right against his chest, and Billy’s heart stopped, it felt like, for a second, feeling Harrington warm and solid against him. Smelling Harrington—his hairspray, his soap-and-laundry smell, because Billy’d woken him up—made it feel like he’d fallen out of reality, just down the rabbit hole where guys didn’t murder you for climbing into their arms.

Somewhere with soft landings.

He drew a shuddery breath, closing his eyes, and then another, waiting for Steve to grab his hair, or something—shove him away again, and kick him on the ground, maybe, but Steve didn’t move, and Billy’s breaths were starting to sound like some little shitheel, whining when he didn’t get his way. He bit his lips together, trying to control himself, get his lungs to work normally, instead of gasping like there wasn’t enough air in the world.

“...the fuck are you doing, Harrington,” he choked out, “Fucking...end me,” and Steve just stood there like a post. Billy brought his hand up, slowly, and gripped the bottom hem of Steve’s sweater. When nothing happened, except Steve’s shallow breathing, Billy opened his eyes, staring at the tears smearing on the green wool of Steve’s sweater. He took another gulping breath as Steve’s arm moved, but he just grabbed the arm Billy wasn’t touching him with.

“Did something...happen,” Steve asked him, just—just letting Billy Hargrove fucking cry on him, and Billy shook his head, wishing something had. “Is Max okay?”

“...’m just like this,” Billy whispered, snickering, and clenching his fist harder in Steve’s sweater. Steve was warm against him, and as it started to sink into his skin, Billy started shivering, hard. “F-fuuuck,” he muttered, sniffling. “You can kill me now,” he said, giggling.

“Just like what,” Steve asked, still trying to figure him out, and Billy shoved away and laughed again, a weird, wet noise all up in his sinuses. He bent over and leaned his hands on his knees, trying to steady himself, and then saw Steve’s sneakers at the edge of his vision, and stumbled back.

Steve grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him towards the door, Billy staggering along. He stumbled over the shoes inside the door, kicking his own off when he saw Steve do it, but Steve yanked him back upright, pushing him into a kitchen where the oven light illuminated polished, handle-less cabinets. Billy stood there, looking around at the darkness of the rest of the house, and then Steve was yanking at his jacket. He shook Billy, hard.

“Why the hell are you outside my house trying to—to get run over, or something,” Steve hissed, and Billy shrugged, wishing he’d had more to drink.

“Why aren’t you doing it?” he asked, grinning his sluttiest grin, and Steve growled, and yanked on his jacket again, yanking it off.

He tossed it away, and then grabbed the bottom of his own sweater and yanked it off over his head, and right-side out. “The fuck is wrong with you,” Steve muttered, sighing impatiently, and flapping the sweater on Billy’s head. “You’re like a wild animal or—”

“What,” Billy mumbled, “—the fuck are you doing—” waving his hands, a little, as Steve jerked the sweater down over his face, and the wool got in Billy’s mouth, and caught on his earring. Billy sniffled juicily and hugged himself inside it without putting his arms through the sleeves, breathing in Steve Harrington’s smells, and let Steve put a hand on each of his shoulders and walk him into another dark room.

“Stay,” he said, and Billy barked, laughing, but waited to see what would happen next, in this weird world he’d found down the rabbit hole. He wondered if Steve would chop off his head, and snickered at the image.

“You gonna tame me, Harrington?” he asked, still shivering hard, but he squinted around, trying to memorize the sounds and smells of Harrington’s house. The fridge hummed in the darkness, and he could smell dust, and something that had burned in the oven.

Then some vents turned on, and Steve threw something around his shoulders—a quilt, or something, it felt like, not too heavy. Steve grabbed his elbows again, pushing him backwards until he thudded against the wall—over a heating vent, he realized, as the metal dug into his feet. Billy laughed sharply as the blanket around him inflated like Marilyn Monroe’s skirt in the subway pictures, and started to fall off.

Steve wrapped it around him again and held it there, his hands on Billy’s arms as everything filled with warm air—blasting up through his socks and toasting his feet, up his pant legs, and filling the space around him under the blanket with what felt like hot clouds wrapped around him. He swallowed hard again as his eyes adjusted slowly to see Steve’s intent face in the darkness. He looked confused, mostly, and Billy giggled harder, trying to keep it silent, as tears dripping down his face.

Steve’s hands on Billy’s elbows were firm, and Billy caught himself leaning in again, shifting his feet to force himself back upright, snorting a laugh, but Steve’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward on his own, so Billy could lean awkwardly against him, held apart by his own arms inside Steve’s sweater. Steve just had a white t-shirt on, and he smelled even more like clean laundry in the dry heat of the vents, like he’d been curled up in bed before Billy’d crawled out of his own bed, and fallen down the rabbit hole.

He shifted to hold the blanket—one hand on Billy’s bicep, drawing him closer still, and the other one on the back of his shoulder, and Billy gave in, like he always did, and let his face rest against Harrington’s shoulder and neck, sighing. Steve stroked his back, gently, like a habit.

It was so warm.

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

#harringrove #Harringrove April #I dunno about this one guys #Prompt length is pretty restrictive #Feels like we're missing a lot

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sadhours · 1 year

Text

Wicked Sensation

part nineteen // billy hargrove x f!reader

find all chapters here

a/n: this is the end of the road :( next chapter is the last one. thank you all so much for reading!! I’ll be working to start up another series.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dirty sex like literally, p in v, neil but he’s not being the worst?!

tag list: @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh @likeanimagepassingby2

Billy has had what feels like the longest shift of his life. Twelve grueling hours of being under searingly hot engines. He’s learning a lot and earning even more but he sincerely fucking hates these long days. However, he’s offering to stay late more days than not. He’d saved up enough for a place but once you’d mentioned how you wanted a honeymoon, Billy took it upon himself to make that a reality. His bank account was looking nice meanwhile yours was draining almost as soon as you got paid. He wasn’t upset though, you were buying baby stuff and even though both he and Mary suggested you wait until after the baby shower to start buying stuff, he liked the excited look on your face as you showed him all the things you’d bought.

It’s late when he walks through the front door. You’re seated at the kitchen table, flipping through wedding magazines Mary brought home for you. The clock on the stove tells him it’s almost nine and the look on his face tells you the day he’s had. He’s covered in sweat and grease, his curls barely have any bounce to them as they stick to his neck and forehead and his eyes look exhausted. For some reason, the sight of him like this sets you aflame. You feel yourself getting very wet. And Billy can read you like an open book because he gives you a pointed look.

“I need to shower first,” he tells you seriously but his lips curl up as disappointment twists your features. “What? You want me to fuck you like this? All covered in fucking oil and god knows what else.”

You nod up at him, “You look so sexy.”

He shakes his head but steps closer to press his lips to yours. You deepen it instantly, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip until he opens his jaw slightly. Tongues clashing, you grab onto his dirty work shirt and moan softly. It lights something deep in Billy and he’s lifting you from the chair and setting you on the table. You don’t even care that your dad and Mary are awake. Maybe it’s the hormones but you want Billy so carnally in this moment you’re gonna let him fuck you on the kitchen table.

Your hands make quick work of his belt and zipping, pushing down his briefs and pants low enough for his cock to spring out. Billy groans into your mouth, his fingers pushing your nightgown up and pull your panties to the side. He presses his tip to your entrance and pushes in with ease, filling you to the brim in one swift thrust. You cry out but he silences it with his lips, hands digging into your hips while he drills into you. It’s so rushed and reckless, like if anyone walked in you two couldn’t physically stop. Your hands wrap around his neck, whimpering against his lips. With each thrust, he hits your g-spot so perfectly and repeatedly you’re already a goner.

He pulls his lips away to whisper in his ear, “Such a needy girl. You’ve been thinking about my cock filling you all day, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you confess breathlessly, “want it all the time.”

Billy has to admit, with all the working he’s been doing he’s a little pent up so he’s not lasting very long. He grabs onto your hair and pulls it, tilting your head back so he can devour your throat with his tongue and teeth. You grip onto him tighter, gasping out without a care in the world about how loud you’re being. Billy rolls his hips into you even harder, his grip on your hair getting tighter as he chases his high. It grabs you first, though and you moan out his name as your hips rock up to meet his eager thrusts. Your orgasm ripples through you, your thighs shaking before your legs go limp. Billy grabs a hold of them, fingers digging into the back of your thighs as he holds them up. He gives another few hard thrusts before shooting his load into you. He stills completely, lowering his forehead to rest on your shoulder as he breaths hard. You giggle softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and turning your face slightly to kiss his dirty hair.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters before pulling away and stuffing himself back into his pants. “You need a shower now.”

You bite your lip as he slides your under back into place and helps you off the table. He laces your fingers and drags you to the bathroom where you share a very boring shower.

“He proposed how?” Eddie asks, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at Billy from across the room.

The baby shower was bigger than you thought it would be. Your dad invited every single one of his employees and they all showed up. You invited Eddie and Billy invited Max. But there were so many people here you barely knew. Mary even invited the majority of her coworkers. It was nice. Your eyes turn to follow Eddie’s, seeing as Billy sips his beer while talking to his coworkers.

“Well, the ring fell out of his pants when we were getting ready for bed and I saw it so he just did it then,” you shrug, “I’m sure he was planning some big gesture but I like how he did it. It was sweet.”

Eddie frowns, “He’s so different now.”

You know he means it as a compliment but you know this Billy has been in there all along. You’re just glad you were able to help coax it out of him. Billy was different without having to be under the dictatorship that was Neil but he was more like himself. He was patient, kind and incredibly loving. The biggest surprise was just how funny Billy is. He would have you bent over laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. When he didn’t have to be so serious all the time, he had a great sense of humor.

“He’s himself now,” you correct Eddie.

He reaches over and squeezes your hand, “I’m happy for you. I mean it. You deserve this, all of it.”

“Thank you,” you beam, meeting his eyes. “Oh!” your eyes widen as you slide off your engagement ring and you hand it to Eddie. “Look how he engraved it.”

“Snoopy?!” Eddie let’s out a bellowing laugh before handing the ring back to you. “And you were embarrassed of those pajamas.”

“It’s still embarrassing,” you gush, “We may be getting married but I still want Billy to think I’m cool.”

“He obviously does, otherwise he wouldn’t be looking at you like that,” Eddie grins.

Your eyes raise back up to see Billy looking at you with stars in his eyes as he bites his lower lip. Your cheeks redden as you smile back and you see him walking over.

“Having fun, Eddie?” he asks, hands in his pockets.

Eddie nods enthusiastically, “Oh yeah, this is quite the rager. In fact, I frequent baby showers. They’re the best kinds of parties.”

“Well then,” Billy smirks up at you, “We’ll have to make a couple more so you can come to the parties.”

The idea that Billy wants more than one baby makes your stomach flip. You can just imagine him rocking cargo shorts and dad shoes.

“Give me two years after this one at least,” you say defensively.

“You excited to be maid of honor?” Billy directs his attention back to Eddie as he sits at the table with you two.

“Dude of honor, thank you very much,” Eddie bites back cheerfully.

“You wearing a dress?” Billy teases, pulling the beer he was holding up to his lips as he smirks over the rim of it.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Eddie mimics Billy’s smirk.

Mary interrupts by rushing over to tell you it’s time to open the gifts. She ushers you and Billy over to the couch where the presents are slowly presented to you. Mary takes photos of every gift, insisting Billy smiles as he hold them up. You turn to watch his face scrunch up in exaggerated delight as he holds up a box of diapers.

“You’re not gonna be making that face when you have to change ‘em,” you hear one of his coworkers call out.

Billy rolls his eyes as he sets the diapers back down but then his smile is back as Max walks over with a gift bag. He pulls the card out and opens it.

Billy,

This gift was hard to give because it’s the one thing I kept from your infancy. It was a reminder of the love your mother and I once shared and what a wonderful baby you were. You’re growing up and I wanted you to know I’m proud of you. I know you’ll be a great dad.

Love,

your dad.

Billy’s eyes immediately well up with tears and he wonders if his dad cried while writing that. Neil had never been so candid, he’d never once told Billy he was proud of him. He wouldn’t even bring up Billy’s mom. This… this was something else. He wipes his tears quickly, sniffling harshly as he hands you the card. He pulls out a second card and wonders if his dads playing a sick joke and this one will say Just kidding. Fuck you. but it doesn’t. This one is to you and him and it’s from Max and Susan. He reaches into the bag as pulls out some baby clothes. After you read the card, you’re leaning into Billy and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you rub circles against his back. You’re crying, a lot more freely than he is. At the bottom of the bag, Billy feels the hard plastic and hears the sound before he sees the gift and immediately he knows what it is. He pulls it out, mouth agape slightly as he peers down at the ocean themed rattle. He recognizes it, he’d been pretty damn attached to it when he was a kid. He can’t believe his dad had kept it and had it tucked away all these years. He’s too floored by the rush of emotion to care about all the eyes in the room on him. He won’t let himself break down and sob, but he stays silent as he holds the toy in his hand. He didn’t know Neil had it in him to be so kind.

You press a kiss to his cheek, “That’s so sweet, Billy.”

“I know,” he says after clearing his throat and resting the rattle back into the bag before slapping his thighs, “Alright, what’s next?”

You let it go, knowing you’ll talk to him more in depth tonight. Max reaches forward and squeezes his shoulder before retreating. She knows Billy well enough to not dwell on this moment in front of everyone.

When you walk into the bedroom, you see Billy sitting against the headrest of your bed. He’s holding the rattle in his hands, turning it over while he looks at it. You sit next to him, placing a hand on his thigh as you wait for him to speak first.

“You think he regrets being a giant asshole my whole life?” Billy breathes out, not tearing his eyes away from the rattle.

“Probably,” you guess, “I’m sure he misses you being around. He’s probably had lots of time to think about how he treated you.”

Billy drops his hands, looking up at you with misty eyes, “I want to hate him so bad.”

“And you have every right to. But it’s complicated. Did you hold resentment for your mom after she left?”

He nods.

“Yet, you still love her dearly and you’ve justified why she left. It could be that while your dad was shitty to you, you still appreciate that he was there,” you offer, hoping it could help him. You didn’t exactly know how Billy was feeling but you know how you felt about your own situation with your parents.

Billy sighs, a tear breaking from his eyes and cascades down his cheek. He reaches for your hand and squeezes it, “I don’t want to be like him. I want to be a good dad.”

“You will be,” you promise, moving into his lap and raking your hands through his hair. “You don’t have to be like him.”

Billy rests his head against your chest, pulling you into a hug. You circle your arms around his neck and squeeze him tightly while you kiss the top of his head. “It’s not the best apology but maybe it’s way of doing it.”

“Yeah…” Billy sighs, “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you tell him.

“Are we ready for something like this?” you ask as you walk down the hall, peering into empty rooms.

“Your dad said he’d co-sign,” Billy shrugs as he steps into the hallway bathroom and flicks the light switch on and off.

A mortgage seems like a big step into adulthood that you’re not sure you’re ready to take. You’re always overthinking things, though. You’ve imagined all the possibilities. All the things that could happen. Like what if you and Billy break up. Or what if you guys can’t afford to pay it and it horribly damages your credits for the rest of your lives. Billy seems to notice you’re panicking internally because he wraps his arm around your waist and looks down at you.

“You’re pregnant with my baby and we’re getting married in a week. The next logical step is buying a house,” he says and then thinks for a second, “Er, trailer.”

“I don’t even have a car yet. I’m still a kid,” you argue back.

“Yeah, we’ll work on the car thing,” he chuckles, “We may be young but we’re doing very adult things. We’ll be fine. We’ve got each other.”

“It’s three bedrooms,” you point out.

Billy rolls his eyes, “We ain’t stopping at one baby. We’ll need the room.”

You giggle and with that, he’s convinced you.

“Fine!” you gush, “Let’s do it.”

Billy grins as he leans you back and plants a big, sloppy kiss on your lips. The prospect of being so domestic with him has you buzzing. You grab hold of his jaw while you kiss back. He pulls back to nudge his nose with yours, “I’ll put in an offer. We can move in after the honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” you look up at him in disbelief. You’d thought it’d been out of the budget.

“Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that?” he leads you into the kitchen and leans against the empty cabinets.

“You did,” you reply, “How can we afford to buy a house and a honeymoon?”

Billy lifts you up and rests your ass on the counter, twirling a bit of your hair between his fingers while he looks up at you. Your heart swells with how much you love this man. He’s given you everything you could ever want and more.

“Why do you think I’ve been working twelve hour days? I wanna give you everything I can,” he murmurs, blue eyes scanning your face and focusing in on your lips.

“I wanna give you everything too,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist and grabbing a hold of his t-shirt.

“Yeah?” he smirks, resting his hand on your thigh, “You can give me something right now.”

“In here?” your eyes widen.

“Why not? It’ll be ours,” he counters, hooking his fingers into your waistband.

He has a good point so you nod, leaning back so he can pull your leggings down to your ankles. He presses a bruising kiss to your lips as he starts to unzip his jeans. Once he’s got his cock in his hand, he drags his tip through your folds. Billy exhales at the sensation, your slick coating his throbbing head. It’s all so intoxicating and right. He taps it against clit a few times, eyes on yours intently as you whimper. You worry the realtor will show up randomly even though she canceled and gave Billy the key.

He reads your mind, seeing the uncertainty on your face and tells you, “Stop thinking. We’re alone.”

“Okay,” you breath out but it quickly turns into a moan as Billy slips inside your dripping hole.

He fills you completely, exhaling against your face as he does so and you can smell the minty gum he was chewing. You grab a hold of his shoulder, sinking back until your head rests against the cupboard. You’ll never get used to how big he is or the way your aching pussy grips him. You get excited, thinking about all the furniture you guys can fuck on in your new place and how you’re starting that now before it’s officially yours.

Billy’s lips are against your ear suddenly and you feel his breath on it as he whines, “Fuck, you’re so tight. I fucking love your pussy. All mine.”

You cry out when he bites your earlobe and starts thrusting into your eager core. The slow drag of his member against your walls is electric, sending shivers up your spine. He grabs hold of your thighs and scoots you a bit closer, angling your hips up so he reaches the spongy spot deep inside you.

“Billy,” you moan out, “Ugh, right there!”

He laughs lowly, almost sinisterly and it’s the sexiest sound to grace your ears. You love to fluff his ego, you want him to be so sure that he fucks you like no one else could and that you completely belong to him. It’s hot how arrogant he can be about it.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking good,” you groan out, eyes rolling back as his rhythm reaches the pace that’ll bring you over the edge.

“Yeah? You like that?” he grits out, “This pussy was made just for me.”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, “all yours, Billy.”

“All mine,” he repeats, moving his hand so he can lick his thumb and press it against your clit, moving it in quick circles.

“Ugh, yes… I’m so close,” you warn him, hands tangling into the curls at the back of his head.

Billy groans lowly against your ear before encouraging you, “That’s it. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

You whine, closing your eyes as he lures you to the edge. He licks against your neck and you lose it, writhing on the counter as you reach your climax. He keeps whispering praises into your ear as you ride it out, prolonging the waves even further than normal. You don’t even notice he’s meeting you there until you feel him emptying inside you.

“Billy,” you pant softly, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. He wipes them away and kisses your lips gently before pulling away and dressing the two of you.

“Well, we’ve christened the house,” he jokes.

You smack him arm, “We have to buy it now.”

He chuckles as he helps you down of the counter, “Or we can keep looking and see how many empty houses I can fuck you in.”

“Very romantic,” you roll your eyes, lacing your fingers together so you can lead him out to the car.

Your wedding dress is just a tad snug but you can still walk in it so you think that’s a win. Max, Mary, your dad and Eddie sit on the bench while you stand on the pedestal. You’d wanted Billy to come with but Mary insisted it was horrible luck for him to see you in the dress before the wedding. You felt like you and Billy were too in love for any of those superstitions to affect you. However, at the same time you didn’t want to risk it.

“It’s a little tight,” you mention to the associate, “in the belly, obviously.”

Eddie snorts but when you turn to him to glare at him, he smiles wide, “You look great in it.”

“Could we just take it out a tiny bit here?” you ask the associate as you rub your stomach.

“Of course, we can,” she smiles at you, “We’ll be cutting time a little short, it won’t be ready until the morning of, though.

“That’s fine,” you say as you turn and look behind your shoulder to see the back of it. “You can pick it up, right, Eddie?”

“I’ll pick my dress up then too,” he teases, earning laughs from the room.

You roll your eyes as you turn back around. When the associate brings out the veil and places it on your head, Mary lets out a sob and you turn to see your dad also has tears in his eyes.

“Happy crying, I hope,” the associate mutters to you, “you look stunning.”

You hope Billy will agree. You beam at her before you turn back to the mirror, the reflection you see is almost a stranger. You’d never imagined you’d be getting married ever, let alone right before your nineteenth birthday.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married,” you say to yourself, eyes scanning over all the delicate, lace details on the dress.

“To Billy fucking Hargrove,” you hear from Eddie, it’s soft and copies your disbelief. It was quick, very quick. Hell, you’d known him barely over a year and now you’re making the commitment to spend the rest of your life with him. It feels a little scary until you imagine him standing next to you, in a suit and bowtie. Then it feels more exciting than anything.

Billy peers down at the invitation in his hand as he stands at the doorstep. He could turn around. He could run back into your dads house and continue his life without Neil in it. But the card he’d given Billy made him not want to. He’d always been there, always stayed by his dads side and picked up the broken pieces of their life. He knew his dad was an asshole, knew he treated him so unfairly for his entire childhood but he never abandoned Billy. So Billy couldn’t abandon him.

He knocks on the door, hoping that maybe Susan or Max would answer and he could just hand over the wedding invitation and leave. But he’s met with a familiar mustache and brooding blue eyes, wonders if his own look like that.

“Son,” Neil says, his tone stern with a hint of relief.

Billy keeps their eye contact, like he’s been taught to, like real men do. Though he struggles, always has. Wants to anywhere but his dad.

“I uh, wanted to give you this,” he says and extends the invitation out.

“Come in,” Neil says, the tone has changed but Billy’s still wary. He thinks of making an excuse, saying he’s got to work or you have an appointment but he doesn’t. He follows his dad inside, to the fridge where he grabs two beers and casually passes one to his son. As they walk into the living room, Billy notices his weight set is gone and a chair takes its place, probably paid for the chair. Billy won’t mention that he personally paid for the bench press. He hasn’t had time for working out anyways, doesn’t have much anger pent up anymore. He fears for a moment that he’s getting pudgy but his dad distracts him from the self criticism.

“Sit down.”

Billy obeys, sits on the new chair and cracks the beer open. His shoulders ache and he notices how much he’s tensed up by stepping into this house so he rolls them to get some relief and tells himself he’s fine, safe. Extending the invitation to his father, he relaxes a bit. There’s a peace offering in it.

Neil takes the envelope and opens it, pulling out the card stock with your name and Billy’s at the top.

“So, you’re gonna do the right thing and marry the girl,” Neil nods, “Good.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, wants to tell his dad how much he loves you and that’s why he’s marrying you, not just because he knocked you up. “It’s this Saturday. I probably should’ve brought this over sooner but you know, we’ve been busy. I just signed the papers for our house.”

“You bought a house?” Neil sounds surprised but proud.

Billy nods, “Well, it’s a trailer but yeah. Three bedrooms, two baths, it’s nice.”

“Expecting more kids already?”

“We want to,” he clears his throat, “Not right away but yeah.”

Neil sighs, looking down at the invitation, “Well congratulations. I’m glad you’re starting a family.”

“Thanks.”

Billy’s itching to leave and hates that he can’t just get along with his dad like most sons. Furious at his dad for making it feel like he can’t say what he’s feeling. Part of him wants to tell him thank you for sticking around but he knows Neil will tell him he had no choice. And Billy knows that’s true.

“We’ll be there,” Neil says and sips his beer, tossing the invitation on the coffee table. The air in the room is thick. They both want to say how they feel but it’s been beaten in both of them not to. Billy makes a silent promise to himself he won’t do that to his kids because this is brutal to sit through.

“Cool,” Billy nods and they sit in silence as they finish their beers. Billy figures he can leave now.

Squeezing into the wedding dress was like shoving a balloon into a sock. How your belly had grown so much in just one week you weren’t sure. It was a horrible way to start the morning. You felt bloated and tired. They’d taken the dress out but it seemed like they hadn’t. You should’ve insisted another inch or two. Mary assures you that doesn’t look like it’s squeezing you. Eddie walks into the room, already in his suit and he looks like a million bucks, he’s holding a packet of mini donuts from a convenience store.

“Jesus,” you breath out when you see him, “I have never in my life seen you look so grown up.”

He shoves a donut into his mouth, cheeks filling as he smiles around the bite. Once upon a time you thought you’d end up marrying him and seeing him in a suit gives you a tiny glimpse into that parallel universe and it’s not so bad, but you’re glad it’s not the one you’re in.

“Did you invite Harrington?” he asks once he’s swallowed, “I saw his placement on the table.”

“Billy insisted,” you admit, “think it’s part of that weird feud they have going on.”

He snorts, “Did you make him invite Stephanie?”

“We never got her RSVP,” you giggle and Mary rolls her eyes.

“Doing all these grown up things yet you’re acting like you’re still in high school,” she sighs.

“It’s healthy,” Eddie shrugs.

“Very healthy!” you agree.

“So how did the bachelor party go?” Eddie asks as he sits.

You laugh, hard. Billy had come home drunk but complaining that Tommy and Drew didn’t get along and that neither of them knew how to throw a proper bachelor party.

“No strippers then?” Eddie teases and shoves another donut in his mouth.

“I think they just got drunk at Drew’s apartment.”

“Real rager.”

“Totally.”

Your dad walks into the room, getting a look at you all done up for the first time. He grins wide, “My little girl. All grown up.”

“It’s about time, huh?” Eddie shoves your shoulder playfully.

Your eyes always hurt after spending time with Eddie, constantly rolling them.

“Speaking of,” Mary rips the donuts from Eddie’s hands, “You need to be heading down the aisle.”

“Yay, I get to walk with Tommy,” he mumbles sarcastically. “Think I might get lucky,” he winks at you.

“Carol’s watching,” you call after him as he exits the room.

Mary stands at the door as watches, then she’s turning back to you and your dad.

“It’s time!” she squeals.

You link arms with your dad after he fixes your veil. The butterflies in your stomach rave, more present than they’ve been all day. It’s happening. You’re about walk down the aisle to Billy. You feel like you might puke so you take a deep breath. The piano sounds cue you and your dads feet, walking through the doors until the beginning of the aisle. Immediately, your eyes meet with Billy’s ocean blue ones. The threat of vomiting immediately ceases. He’s never looked more handsome than he does in this moment. His suit hugs him perfectly, the blue tie matching his eyes. His curls. They’re so perfect, pretty blonde coils styled more intently than ever. He takes your breath away. It’s as if you’re the only two people in the church. You can’t even feel all the eyes on you as every head in the pews turn to you. The walk feels like it takes forever, you want to run to him.

When you finally get there, you see the tears in his eyes and he shyly says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you repeat and it’s met with a roar of laughter. For a moment you feel like you’re in a tv show and you’re reminded there’s about 100 eyeballs on you.

Billy takes your hands in his, grounding you. It’s easy for the rest of the ceremony as you look into his eyes. He somehow expresses silently to you that this is just between you and him. You could’ve done this simple and just as sweet at the courthouse but Mary loved planning this big event.

You recite your vows, Mary had helped you write them because you had no idea what you were supposed to say. The first wedding you attended was your own. Billy recites his and they’re simple but beautiful. They make you cry. He reaches up the year streaming down your cheek and the audience collectively ‘aws’ and you feel like you’re right back in that tv show.

When you kiss, you feel a whole lot lighter. Billy’s lips are soft and pliable. He’s your husband now. You’re kissing your husband. He cups your cheeks with his hands, smiling into it before slipping his tongue past your lips. Again, you’re reminded of the audience by the whooping.

Billy can dance. You watch with wide eyes as he two-steps with none other than Steve Harrington. They have drunk smiles and flushed cheeks. You feel warm inside, dandelions sprouting in your belly. You and Steve made a mistake but he was a really good friend, you’d wanted to show Billy that. Open Billy up to people who would care for him.

“That’s a sight for sore eyes,” Mary says to you, nudging your shoulder. She can see the smile stretching your face. Everyone in the room can see it.

When Billy locks hands with Robin and sways away with her, you take the opportunity to swoop in on Steve. He looks surprised, but happy. He holds onto your hand and awkwardly moves side to side with you. It seems Billy was doing all the work.

“Thanks for coming,” you say to him, watching as his chestnut hair flops with each step.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he beams, “Seriously, congratulations.”

“It’s weird, though, right?”

“Oh, other dimension weird,” he agrees, “That’s life.” Steve shrugs on the last word.

“He’s nice,” you feel the need to say. “Better than nice.”

“He’s not half bad,” Steve says but his eyes look past your shoulder and you feel strong hands on your waist, pulling you back from Steve’s grip.

Blonde curls tickle your jaw as your husband rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes locked on Steve’s.

“Mind if I steal her? She’s my wife, after all,” Billy shoots him a toothy grin and the declaration sends tingles through you.

Steve raises his hands, “Hey, she’s all yours.”

Billy turns you, looking right into your eyes with a dreamy bite of his lip. You hook your arms around his neck and press your hips to his. He moves his hands up your back and shamelessly says, “Can’t fucking wait to get this dress off of you.”

“I’d be happy to leave right now,” you chide, hooking a blonde curl with your finger.

Billy purses his lips, “We could just find a broom closet or something.”

“Hmm, romantic,” you roll your eyes but you’d definitely do it. “Where are we going?”

“Oh you mean the honeymoon? It’s a secret, tonight we crash at our new place,” he tells you nonchalantly.

“On the floor?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing this week? Got us a much bigger bed,” he grins, nudging his nose into yours.

You tilt your head, “Think they’ll all notice if we leave right now?”

Billy lets out a deep, throaty laugh. He squeezes your hips, “This whole shindig is kinda for us. Yeah, they’d notice.”

“I don’t really care if they do,” you admit and that’s all it takes to convince Billy. It’s late anyways. He’s pulling you out the doors before anyone can make a peep.

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #wicked sensation

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okaybutlikeimagine · 4 years

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ok by i cannot stop thinking about billy just losing his fucking mind to dream on by aerosmith. like his dad just went too far or he found out about him and steve and now hes tearing his room apart like a mad man, throwing records and smashing bottles and shit. and its not even just like angry hes like /crying/ like he cannot even for a second know peace and happiness and this has been on my mind for MONTHS

TW: physical abuse, blood, homophobic slurs ((f-slur)), verbal abuse, mental breakdown, cussing

Honey, ever since i got this i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either ohmyGOD???? This is legitimately a PEAK Billy “i’m absolutely sick of all of this and i need out NOW” Hargrove anthem!! God if i could direct this i would but unfortunately i’m bound to words on my silly little blog so i hope this will do, love. ♥ (@venomdean)

Because it’s absolutely explosive. I kind of hate to think about it, but I feel like Billy is like a landmine. He’s a pot always threatening to boil over. He’s on constant vibrate just about ready to pop. He’s always on the edge of going absolutely feral because the only certain thing he’s felt for years and years is pain.

And you’re right- on both accounts. Neil finds out… and he goes too far.

Because Neil has been hearing all around town that Billy has been running around with “that Harrington boy”. You know, the son of that really influential family, the boy who “has all the opportunities in the world” but “seems to be amounting to nothing… what a shame. You know, his parents couldn’t even pay a school to take him. What a pity. I knew it would happen though...”

And Neil just hoped it wasn’t true. He hears it every time he goes to the grocery store. The voices follow him down the aisles, either from mothers who whisper about how “That’s Neil Hargrove. His son is that curly haired one I told you about. The different one.” or from teens who hiss about how “That’s Billy’s dad. Wonder if he knows his son is probably a fa-”

And one day Billy comes home happy. And i’d encourage you to really think about that and just enjoy it for as long as you can because Billy is happy. So happy he’s beaming. He feels like he’s glowing from the inside. He forgets that anyone other than Steve even exists. For a second he forgets his own existence, he’s so enamored and infatuated and near obsessed, really. Because he spent the whole afternoon with the boy, which isn’t necessarily a rare occurrence but it’s always an exceptional one, and today was especially joyful because something about their mutual existence just felt so…. So good. Yeah they had sex in the camaro like the teenagers they are and then again in Hansen’s field because it’s fucking massive and Hansen’s away on some trip and they blasted hippie music and fucked in a field of flowers and pretended like they were at Woodstock just existing in the skin of the other like they were made for it. Like they were made to share each other’s bodies and they were finally completing their infinite and perpetual task. And Billy would never be able to say these words or perhaps even string them together but it’s about the feeling.

Because that’s just the feeling he has. The nameless feeling.

And they fucked and they thought about smoking and they thought about drinking but they stayed high on each other and that was enough. They were laying there among the daisies happier than anything else in existence and Billy’s not even sure why. But they laid there and Billy felt the sun lay a large blanket of the softest warmth right over him and he absolutely reveled in it, allowing his hand to grace Steve’s fingers and then he rolled over to lay his head on Steve’s shoulder and he can’t believe he does that without feeling like a stupid fucking sissy but… but Steve’s always there. Always always always there. Stronger than he looks and warm and supportive and there. And Steve started to curl some of Billy’s hair around his finger and Billy pretended to bite at him like he was irritated and Steve whispered something about love and you and me and California and after graduation… i should have enough money by then. Let’s do it. Just you and me.

And Billy’s whole world froze. Froze in warmth, incubated in love, goddamn teeming with adoration as he got up on his elbows and evaluated Steve’s face just to be sure it wasn’t a joke and saw that it wasn’t and absolutely 100% beamed. Because the words and Steve’s eyes and the warmth of the sun on his back painted, stroke by stroke, the image of the two of them in California. On the beach. In the soft sand. Enjoying the sunlight. Playing in the waves. Billy teaching Steve how to surf, Billy dragging Steve under the boardwalk, Billy and Steve getting sticky with popsicles and soft serve and fresh watermelon and strawberries, Billy rollerskating hand in hand with Steve just like he used to watch all those couples do back when he was 9 years old and questioning everything. Billy and Steve existing freely. Openly and honestly. It can only have gotten better. He’s sure of it. It can only get better from this stupid hick town. He knows it.

He needs it.

And so they make out some more and the rest of the afternoon is a whirlwind up until he’s got Steve pressed up against the Camaro making out with him on that backroad and then again in front of Steve’s house and he’s letting his skin light up over every little promise of you and me in California… that Steve whispers into his skin, his ears, his mouth...

He feels fucking invincable.

He walks into his house with a forcefield. A smile he never sports. A bounce in his step he never maintains. Goddamn happiness. Not even just confidence, it’s pure bliss on his face and not even Neil’s ugly mug can ruin it. Not even Neil storming down the hall, electricity following his path, can ruin it. Not even Neil scowling, glaring daggers, lip snarled, teeth bared, can ruin it. Not even whatever gross, growling worlds Neil is spitting his way can ruin it.

Billy is blissed out on the future and the idea of pure bliss with a boy he thinks he knows he loves that he doesn’t feel it until even moments after. He doesn’t see it til it’s over. He doesn’t know it til he can’t defend himself. He doesn’t care until he does.

It’s a mistake.

When Billy thinks back on it afterwards, after everything, he heaves and hisses and snarls at his past, blissed out self. He wants to punch himself in the face for such a mistake. This is a lesson he learned years ago. Back when it all first started. Back when he was so young.

But current Billy is blissed all the way up until his world flashes black. Until his ears ring. Until his hand flies to his face of its own accord to press at the pain to get it to stop. Second nature.

“You stupid fucking homo.”

And Billy’s vision bleeds red. It’s anger, it’s rage, it’s betrayal. His vision tunnels with vitriol. With scorn. Fight or flight kicks in and every smart part of Billy is yelling run but the dumber, closer, stronger parts say fuck him fuck him fuck him I don’t deserve this.

So his fist swings, rearing back and surging forward. Animalistic nature.

He thinks he makes purchase, but if he’s honest, the rest is a too quick blur. A mess of motion. Someone presses fast-forward on his VHS tape. The moments bleed together.

It’s a montage of angered words. Words beyond anger. Words that poison his system. Words like “homo” and “fag” and “disgrace” and “military school” and Billy checks in right there because-

“You’re going to military school, you worthless piece of shit.”

Billy spits in the man’s face. Longtime craving.

And then the world blacks out again. It’s blurrier now. His face is warm. There’s liquid gushing out. His wrist is sore and the ground is being taken out from beneath him and he realizes he’s being grabbed and pulled and then dragged because his body is feeling weak. Call it a mix of everything.

And he’s being dragged to his room and the world shatters when they cross the threshold because this place is the only place in this damn house he feels somewhat safe in. And he feels himself hit the ground heavily, right in front of his mirror. Feels himself being pulled up to be seated. Hears a rustling. Hears a weirdly familiar sound his mind can’t process. Sees something metal in the mirror before his hair is being grabbed and pulled taught and then there’s slack and the pressure is gone and-

“How could you fucking do this to me?”

More hair pulling, more growling, more yelling, some spit.

“You’ve been running around with that prissy boy. How long, huh?”

Then there’s slack and-

“Everyone talks about you two. Disgusting.”

Pulling pulling pulling pulling… something tickling his arms.

“Saw you two… outside his house, huh? You’re a disgrace.”

Wetness. Billy’s face is wet. His eyes burn. His throat burns. There’s slack again.

“You’re going to military school. Tomorrow. You’re out of here.”

Pulling and sawing and yanking and slack. Over and over and over and over-

“Hope I never see you again, you fag.”

Billy sobs. It wrenches through his chest. Pulling and slack, pulling and slack, over and over and-

It stops. Billy’s weak. His body is shutting down. It must be. It feels like it. The vision in the mirror is blurry but he knows the damage that’s been done. He can tell. He can feel. There’s nothing touching his shoulders anymore. Nothing against his neck. Something tickles down his arms. He shakes, weakly moving his hand to swipe the feeling away from his arms and grabs at tufts of hair.

There’s that ugly fucking mug, right in his face. It’s a strange look he wears. Billy’s vision is blurred. His lip snarls upward. Instinct.

“Where did I go wrong?”

The words are whispered in his face on hot breath. They hang in the air between them.

Billy shatters.

The door shuts loudly. Another door shuts after that. A car starts. Billy’s still sitting on the floor.

His muscles in his legs begin to contract, and then his arms. His vision clears and sharpens. He pushes himself up off the floor, avoids looking in the mirror, walks up next to it to his stereo, moves to turn on the radio…. Auto-pilot.

Music fills the room. Lilts through the air. Cuts through the humidity of the once cool night. The altercation warmed everything up. Must have.

There’s the sound of a keyboard and the plucking of a guitar. A familiar rhythm. It flows out of his stereo and through the room like it has a life of its own. It’s a spectral kind of presence, slinking out of the speakers, lurking in the corners, filling up the forgotten spaces with its haunting rhythm. Billy turns the music up louder. Stands in front of the stereo. Lets the music consume his space. Exist with him until they can’t co-habitate.

The chord gets more complicated. The chord runs. Billy’s feet feel like they’re going to betray him and let him fall through the floor. His head feels like it’s in another realm. A mirrored realm of darkness and vines… a world teeming with threats that wouldn’t think twice of making attempts on his life.

He sways in place.

When the voice starts his feet move. They betray his thoughts but they don’t compromise his balance, necessarily. He’s moving backwards.

Every time that I look in the mirror….

He can’t.

All these lines on my face getting clearer…

He knows he can’t. Not if he wants to keep his sanity. His breath gets shorter. His head is dizzy just from moving, even though he’s slow. Maybe it’s because he’s going backwards.

The past is gone

His head betrays him now. Swings itself over the edge- looks over to the left.. Billy’s eyes take a second to focus but it’s only an instant after that before his hands shoot up to his head. Grab at tiny curls. Grab at randomly long tufts. Grab at whatever they can reach which is almost nothing.

He’s shaking. His hand is shaking as his fingers grasp with a kind of desperation Billy has never known but is suddenly wracking his body in a way that overwhelms every piece of him until he’s nothing but fingers grasping for what should be where they’re reaching but is nowhere to be seen. He can’t see anything but himself in the mirror. The world blacks out but him and the mirror. His feet are still moving him somewhere. He’s looking at the mirror at an awkward angle.

He hits the couch in his room. His fingers clench and unclench. He flops down onto it.

It went by like dusk to dawn...

Clenching and unclenching until his fingers get sore and he slams his hands onto the couch to stop thinking about it but how can he when his… his reflection...

Isn’t that the way?

He’s grabbing at his blanket beneath him harshly. He fists it and his mouth opens in a grimace and his eyebrows furrow so hard his head hurts and his lip shakes and…

Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay~…

The voice is rising and the music is rising and the specter fills up the space with something passively threatening, something that gently nudges Billy’s shoulders, something that presses at Billy’s head, something present.

Billy’s fisting hard at the blanket. His fingers are sore. He pulls at it. His finger slips into a moth hold or two. The voice reaches the top, along with the guitar and then they both topple over the peak and there’s the sound of a rip and something under Billy gives out. He pulls harder, hearing more tears, fingers dipping into the rips he’s created in his blanket.

I know nobody knows… where it comes and where it goes

Billy looks down at his fists tearing his blanket and they stop, pull away… thoughtless. His hands shake to do something, maybe grab at his aching head and they do, he does- no, they do, his hands do, but they feel uneven tufts of curls and it’s a jolt. His brain shocks itself. He pulls his hands away with a cry because what is this. He’s become alien to himself. He sees the mirror in front of him but he’s not sure who he sees in it. It’s not him.

I know it’s everybody’s sin…. You’ve got to lose to know, how to win…

The music is with him. Towering over him. The presence is daunting. Feels like it’s challenging him to something as a separate chord climbs and falls as soon as it starts. The spectre falls down. Settles with him. Next to him. He stands. He’s unsettled. Nothing in the mirror is right nothing is right nothing is right. He shoves the flat part of his knuckles on his thumbs into his eyes to fix it, fix something, fix this image that doesn’t feel right. Fix this creature he doesn’t recognize. His mind is swimming.

He walks around the room. He’s not sure if this is easier or harder than before, but he still stumbles.

Half my life’s in books’ written pages… Lived and learned from fools and from sages…

He tucks his chin into his chest, his knuckles still pressed to his eyes, the world black and scattered with the spots he’s pressing into them. His stomach is twitching with sobs that meet up in his throat and push out of his mouth. They’re small. That same droning chord is persistent, rising and filling up into the room, aiming to devour him in something. Drown him.

You know it’s true-

The end grows into a growl and takes with it a feeling that’s animalistic. The specter grows feral. Billy opens his eyes.

His chest heaves. His eyes burn as they water. His mouth twists up in misery. Because he sees it. There. At his feet. Under his boots. He’s fucking stepping on it.

All the things…

His hair. In curly tufts on the ground beneath his feet and in front of them.

Come back to you…

He’s stepping on it.

He looks up and he recognizes his face now and he… he…. He’s….

He’s distraught.

And he rounds on absolutely anything he can reach. Whatever is in arm’s distance behind him and it happens to be his lamp and he grabs it and he throws it with all his might to the ground and-

Sing with me, sing for the year-

-and it shatters. His mind is racing and he has no thoughts past the music. The presence is dark. It’s a shadow. It’s all around him. It’s in his vision.

-sing for the laughter and sing for the tear...

He’s swinging. His eyes are blurry from his own hot tears and they sear his cheeks as he grabs at whatever he can- vaguely registers the necks of bottles and the grooves of records against his palm and beneath his fingertips as he hashes through the world around him, trying to tear through the shadows consuming him and the tears are flooding everything out and he’s just swinging and smashing and-

Sing with me, it’s just for today… maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

He’s swinging and crashing and smashing like he’s being challenged. Threatened.. Whatever exists in this room with him is menacing. Malevolent. Feeding off his pain. Sipping it through his tears. He punches the wall and then the drums hit and they stop and the guitar is back and-

“Billy?”

It’s a voice. Billy’s sure it’s his own somehow. Sure it’s the song somehow. Sure it’s this presence somehow, whatever is it, floating through the chords of the song like a friend seeking a kill.

“B-Billy? I… Uhm…. Please stop.”

It’s small. Feminine. Familiar. Shaking.

“Please don’t hur-.... You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Maxine.

Billy strides to the door and throws it open. The violent thud it makes as the knob hits the wall fills something in Billy’s chest. It springs more tears in his eyes. His chest is sobbing.

“Billy?”

There’s something Billy can’t place in Max’s eyes. If his mind were even a tad clearer he thinks he’d recognize it… categorize it under worry or concern or care or even something deeper...

But the guitar chord hits a high note and the shadow specter of the music seeps into his mind and he’s a husk.

The chorus picks up again, singing about singing and Billy is standing there looking at this tiny red head standing in his way and she’s blurred by his tears and-

“Billy, what are you doing-”

“Mind your damn business, Maxine.”

“What happened-?”

“Mind your business.”

The music is rising. It fills Billy’s throat.

“Did… did he-? Do…?”

“Do what?” Billy spits down at Max, leaning over her, invading her space. Max’s eyes flood with fear and it makes Billy step back. The shadows of the song step away. He sees through the blur to find the girl.

“Do that?” She asks, voice small and soft and shaking and weak. Eyes filling with tears of their own and it fills Billy’s gut with bile and he’s so sick of it. So sick of everything. Thinks he might be sick. So fucking done. Broken. Feral.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away~

Billy’s eyes are filling. He glares as hard as he can while his eyelids are all mushy and swollen.

“Get out of my way, Maxine.”

She’s cowering.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Just get out of my way.” He growls and takes his arm and shoves and she stumbles back and the music is building and then he’s storming down the hallway, punching the walls and cracking every picture frame he passes and the voice is following him, sounding just as loud to him in the hallway as it did to him in his room as it chants-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream yourself a dream come true~

And he throws pillows off the couch and shatters a lamp on the ground with a shove and his blurry eyes search fervently for what he wants as the guitar wails and runs down and-

Dream on… dream on…. Dream on… dream until your dream come through~

And the guitar gets darker and he’s got it. Grabs it off the mantle. Looks as steadily as he can with shaking and blurry eyes at this thing in his hands. This picture frame... with their stupid family in it. This stupid thing they call family to convince others. It never convinced him. He’s not sure how it could have convinced anyone. His tears are so hot on his face they feel like they’re boiling and his nose is leaking and his saliva is runny and his chest is heaving and he’s-

“Billy?”

He’s thunder. He’s lightning and he’s rain. The music followed him down the hallway and follows him with heavier footsteps back up as the voice screams on with-

Dream on… dream on… dream on… dream on…

And each chant sees Billy taking the frame in his hands and slamming the corner of it into the wall of the hallway as he walks, goes back to his room, ignores Max as she cries to him some kind of garbled nonsense and the music is filling his shoes like a dark puddle and his eyes are drowned.

And the voice that was once singing is now screeching into the air, into the corners of his room, into the darkest parts and Billy looks at the stupid faces of these stupid people he’s been forced to love and thinks of how the only happiness in his life is going to be taken away from him and probably has been permanently taken away now because he’s fucking hideous with bruises and almost no hair and he’s wailing. Deep from his chest, right alongside the voice from the stereo, hurling the picture frame at his mirror blindly as he screams and hitting his target and hearing a loud crack as it shatters and he’s just screaming. Everything inside of him rising and bubbling and boiling over and over and over some more and he’s sure his body will never settle. He’ll never know peace. His mind and his body and his heart will never rest like it did this afternoon in that field with the warm sun and the blue sky and a love underneath him that was all his own for once for fucking once in his miserable life and he opens his eyes and he’s disgusted he’s a disgrace, he’s bruised and bloody and nearly bald and his fingers and knuckles are bruised and bleeding and in that cracked mirror is the most miserable version of himself and he can’t bear to look.

Sing with me-

He grabs the mirror.

Sing for the year-

He throws it to the ground. It covers his fallen hair.

Sing for the laughter-

He stomps it with his boot. Hot tears stain the toes of his shoe.

Sing for the tear-

He reaches for his bedsheets. He needs to take a few steps to get there.

Sing with me-

He tears at them, ripping all the way down. As far as he can.

Just for today.

His chest heaves. He rounds on his makeshift vanity. Swings his arms violently until it’s all on the ground as his feet, discarded and broken and cracked.

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away-

He looks up from the ground. Up to Max, who’s hugging the door frame and shaking, watching with horror or what Billy thinks must be the equivalent. Something equivalent to it. The music and it’s guitar and the specter it’s conjured up is still rising, expanding, residing in every space of the room, pushing Billy out of the space and he’s struggling, fighting, mind getting so nervous and worried as it looks at Max that it needs to look away, needs to distract.

The song repeats itself as he reaches and throws and rips and tears everything in sight. Posters, picture frames, books, cassettes. He steps on everything, smashes everything, tears pour out and out and out, his mind is running and racing and throbbing in pain in hurt in worry in all of its unease and he picks up a hand weight and rounds towards the window and chucks it as hard as he can and-

The sound of the shattering of the window breaks everything. Breaks any resolve still left within him. Lets the shadow and spectre of the music out and into the night as the room is pitched into a bitter and unforgiving chill. Let’s all of Billy’s breath out of his lungs as he heaves and heaves and heaves like he’s going to hurl. He stands there, looking at the window, pictures something faint and distant and at one time hopeful in his mind before he turns around to Max and it’s just music now, the last of the words have been sung, and he mutters a dark and languid and miserable:

“Don’t wait up for me.”

And then he strides to the window and steps on the small table he has in front of it and jumps out and walks into the unfriendly night, a storm. More than a husk. Once again a human. At least, feeling something closer to human.

And then it’s just Max. She rushes to the window, the music turning into a haunting kind of alarm that doesn’t seem alert or at all worried or hurried or serious. A lazy alarm that warns you of an error in the system. She stands in front of the broken window, exposed to the cold, cutting her hand on the glass in her hurry to watch after Billy, watch as he leaves, watch as he stomps his way out of their house and out to the street and down the street and she’s crying. Her mind is spinning. Her face is heavy with tears and sorrow and fear. Her heaving subsides slowly as the music does.

She’s alone in this house. Truly alone. Not even the presence of Billy lingers like usual.

And then she runs to the phone to do the only thing she can think of- she dodges the carnage strewn across their house and runs to the phone and calls the only person she can think to call. The only person she thinks will for sure be able to help him from doing something crazy like leaving with nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever random cash he carries in his pocket.

Another song starts up slowly. The phone picks up.

“Jim Hopper speaking.”

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

True Colors

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: Neil abusing Billy, vulnerable!Billy, soft!Billy, fluff, sexual references because we’re describing Billy here, swearing, lyrics

Song: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper (Cover Version by Anna Kendrick and Justin Timberlake)

Note: I don’t know if this has already been done, but I think of Billy when I hear this, so let’s go. | Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

You with the sad eyes. Don't be discouraged. Oh I realize, It's hard to take courage. In a world full of people, You can lose sight of it all. The darkness inside you, Can make you feel so small

Neil grunted, throwing Billy into the wall. Susan held her hands over Max’s eyes, protecting her from seeing her stepbrother and stepfather fight. Max knew it was happening, she knew what it sounded like. What it looked like. She’d seen a tear escape Billy’s eye after one before. Unfortunately, Billy bullied her for knowing what happened. He thought she pitted him. He thought she thought he was weak just like his dad did. And for Susan...well she didn’t do anything but watch with fear. She didn’t step in like a mother would. It made Billy agitated. His mother would’ve stopped Neil.

His head hit his pillow and his eyes closed. Trying ever so hard to forget about the words his father spoke. Failing to free his mind from the insults and swears that poured out of his father’s mouth, he growled and turned over. His eyes opened and he decided to think of something else. California. His mother. Anything. He felt so weak. Just as weak as his father claimed he was. Tears escaped Billy’s eyes at the thought of everyone finding out his fears and insecurities. Would his mother find him weak? Of course she wouldn’t...but Billy didn’t know that.

Tommy and Carol were pretty much cackling after Billy shoved a freshman into a locker. He was mad, taking his anger out on another human being just like his father did. He wanted to prove to everyone that he wasn’t weak, that he wasn’t the pussy his dad accused him of being. No matter what happened or what he did, Billy still felt weak. The girls he brought home praised him, and he loved it. People at school brought his confidence back up when they cheered him on in fights. So, Billy did what Billy did best. He slept with random girls and brawled at school. Even if Neil broke his self esteem all over again, it was the only way he would get it the attention he wanted.

Show me a smile then, Don't be unhappy. Can't remember when, I last saw you laughing. This world makes you crazy, And you've taken all you can bear. Just, call me up, 'Cause I will always be there

There was one person that Billy could practically milk compliments from was his true best friend. Y/n L/n. She was always there for him in fights, awaiting his command or permission to join in. They shared laughs, hugs, happy tears while watching cheesy movies, and good memories. Even so, he never noticed it when she would avoid him every time where was a girl by his side.

To be completely honest; no one noticed. She was basically invisible to everyone except for him. It wasn’t her fault, she really did try to make friends and get noticed by humanity. Billy only originally realized she existed because no one else did. What he didn’t know, was that the day that he started talking to her was the day her life officially started.

Bumping into people and stumbling over her own feet, y/n raced to get to class. She was five minutes late, she didn’t actually care- but her family did. It was crowded in the halls, as per usual, and that meant it would take longer to get to her class. ‘Why not ditch at this point.’ She agreed with her thoughts and sat down against the nearest wall, closing her eyes and drifting into wherever her imagination took her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing by herself?” Y/n’s head snapped to where the voice came from. A handsome blonde teen leaned against the opposite wall. He had a curly mullet, and his tight denim jeans were hugging his legs. Her eyes traveled up his body, glancing at his unbuttoned shirt, then at his half smirk.

“Me?” There was no possible way a man that gorgeous was talking to her. Y/n denied the very thought. No one talked to her. Not even Nancy, who everyone thought was an angel and a nice girl. His nod went against her theory, making her furrow her eyebrows and tilt her head. “Why? No one does.”

“Well why would that happen? Did you scare ‘em or somethin’?”

She shook her head and looked down, sighing. “No. I’m just unnoticed here. The teachers don’t even know who I am half the time.”

“Well, I’ll be the first person to notice you. I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

“I know... I’m Y/n L/n.” The bell rang and startled Y/n. Billy chuckled and walked over to the young girl.

“See you around, Y/n L/n.”

And he did. After many days of getting to know each other, she approached him with the sweets she made in home ec. He didn’t know why, but it was different. No one really gave Billy Hargrove gifts. Why? He was Billy fucking Hargrove. Emphasis on the “fucking.” He didn’t do feelings. He did girls. He didn’t eat treats. He ate pussy. He didn’t accept gifts unless it was a girl’s virginity. So when the popular Hawkins King ate one of them and thanked her; it was a surprise for everyone.

She watched him fight. One day, she even threw a punch at a jock named Theo after he had given Billy a nasty cut. To say it amazed Billy would be an understatement. That shit was hot and the only people who witnessed it were Theo and Billy. Billy had a small crush on her for a bit. Alas, reality knocked on his door when he remembered that he only did girls and then left them. He couldn’t just do her and then continue being her best friend. He wasn’t that evil.

Little did he know, his point of not being evil wasn’t proved to Y/n. To her, it was so incredibly evil that he robbed her of being able to see an actual smile on his face, full of real joy and laughter. She knew the difference between fake and real happiness. All she wanted, was to see the genuine side of him. Not the Billy that could give a good fucking, not the Billy that would see his bloodied and bruised knuckles as his trophy, but the Billy that was somewhere deep down hidden under his many masks.

And I see your true colors, Shining through- I see your true colors, And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show; Your true colors, True colors are beautiful!

Billy clung to Y/n, crying into her shoulder as she rubbed his back. She didn’t know why he was crying, but she was there for him and she would always be. The friends didn’t move for a while. Even when it was almost midnight, they just sat there, Billy’s head resting on Y/n. She whispered soft positive things to him as she combed her fingers through his curls. It was nice, the two of them quiet, calm, and alone together.

You would probably guess that he did this often, seeing her reaction and how he would never cry in front of another person. But that, sadly, is nowhere near accurate. Even Y/n was surprised to see Billy knock at her door instead of her window, a small bruise on his cheek. She rushed him up to her room and took care of him. Neither of them had spoken a word since he showed up, the silence didn’t affect them though.

The teens never spoke about it. Billy showed up more and more, with bruises worse and worse. A normal best friend would ask what happened nonstop, but she was his best friend. And being his best friend meant that your relationship with him was not normal. It meant that you weren’t normal. It meant that you had a heart that could love someone like Billy Hargrove. And as a person with a heart like that, she took care of him and didn’t persist that he tell her what happened. She asked once and he told her he didn’t want to talk about it, so she stopped asking.

He appreciated the confidentiality she let him keep. Billy promised himself that one day, he’d prove himself not weak to her by telling her the truth of his life. He would let her see the true parts of him...when he was ready. And hopefully that was soon, because his hurt and suffering was affecting her. She loved him, and it brought her great pain to see the person she loved struggle.

The silence was soon broken by Billy. “Can I stay the night?”

Y/n winced at the sound of his voice being scratchy and full of sorrow. She was calm again after he sat up and grabbed her face with one hand, turning it towards his. “Of course, anytime Billy.”

I see your true colors, Shining through (true colors). I see your true colors; And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show. Your true colors, True colors are beautiful! Like a rainbow, Ooh ooh ooh, like a rainbow

“Y/n?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

It was the day after Billy stayed the night for the first time. They didn’t move from their position after he put his head back on her shoulder, Billy waking up as the sun rose in the blue sky outside Y/n’s window. He looked around, panicking inside as this was not his room. His memories of the night before came flooding into his head, of the silent moment he shared with his best friend. Of the thoughts that he had while they sat in tranquility. Today was the day he’d tell her.

Y/n and Billy’s eyes closed. Whispers of goodnight were not made, instead, the two fell back onto the bed. The night was calm as the stars danced in the night sky. Though they were unconscious, Billy and Y/n’s hands inched towards each others, intertwining with smiles on their faces.

When he was fully awake, Billy didn’t wake Y/n up. Instead he watched her for a moment. She slept peacefully, cuddling the pillow that replaced Billy’s body. A small smile was on her face, making a genuine one appear on Billy’s. He left the room, letting her sleep. The boy couldn’t cook if his life depended on it, but he gave it his all, bringing a tray with her favorite breakfast on it.

“While we’re on the topic of food, I could go for some y/f/r (your favorite restaurant). I really love y/f/b, it’s amazing! Have you ever had it?” The h/c girl was beaming with excitement. On the other hand, Billy was staring at the girl in front of them. “Oh. You’re not even listening. Why am I not surprised.”

“Huh? Yeah we can go to...”

“Y/f/r. Billy you’re obviously distracted right now. Are you alright?”

“Yes Y/n. I’m absolutely fine. I’m sorry, let’s just go, okay?”

“Okay...”

Rubbing her arm, he said her name softly. Her eyes fluttered open, taking Billy’s breath away. She glanced over to the food tray, looking back up at him with confusion. “You..remembered?” He nodded and set the tray down, giving her a kiss on her forehead. “I thought you weren’t paying attention that day.”

“I was. I just didn’t completely register it until now. I didn’t register a lot of things until last night...” Y/n tilted her head at his words. She took a sip of y/f/d, waiting for him to continue. Sitting down, he did so, “Those bruises are..from my dad. I’m a shit person, and I know it. I just refuse to admit it. I think I’m weak..but what makes me weak is letting everyone tell me that I am so much that I end up believing it.” He inhaled, looking at her and grabbing her hand that was resting on her lap. “But you- you help me. You do all these things and I was too caught up in false pride to see them... I need to say something, promise me that our friendship won’t change if I say it?”

Y/n nodded and squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I promise.”

“I love you Y/n L/n. I have for the longest time, I just was too blind and too much of an asshole to realize it.”

Billy waited for her response. This silence had the opposite feeling of last night’s. He was about to give in, say it was a joke, until she finally spoke up. “You’re not an asshole Billy. you showed your true self to me, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. You told me the truth, and that takes a lot of strength. I love both of those things about you. And I love you more than them.”

True Colors - Cyndi Lauper / Anna Kendrick & Justin Timberlake

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hargroves-angel · 5 years

Note

ah but imagine you and billy fucking in his room and poor max has to hear you screaming from her room and the next day when you babysit the party she confronts you about it in front of all the kids

October 7th - Scarred For Life

Summary - Max hears something she wish she could unhear.

Warnings - Mentions of smut, swearing, Mortified Max

A/N - Hope you like! Sorry I’m a day late x

You screamed out Billy’s name as he thrusted into you, causing your fourth orgasm to rip through your body. Billy panted as you both came down from your highs.

“That was- amazing” he chuckled in between heavy breaths.

“Y-yeah... it was perfect” Billy layed a kiss down onto your cheek and pulled out of you, throwing the condom into the bin and snuggling next to you.

“No way are you leaving my for that long ever again” he lit himself a cigarette, the smoke filling the room.

“Sorry... can’t help family vacations... my dad was wondering if you wanted to come next year? We can have our own hotel room” you winked. Billy smirked, liking the sound of that.

“Id love to angel, anyway I gotta pick that brat up from the arcade, see ya in a few... help yourself to food” he winked. “I’ll be 15 minutes” he shoved his jeans back on and combed his hair.

Stepping out of the door, he heard music? Did she leave on her crappy pop music again? Neil would go fucking mental, ‘wasting his money’ and all that.

He opened the door and went to turn it off, seeing Max laying asleep on her bed.

‘She must’ve skated home’ Billy thought, tiring off the music anyway and sneaking back into his bedroom.

“She skated home so looks like we can watch that movie now” he threw your clothes onto the side of his bed and watched you get dressed, smoothing everything back down.

Little did you know, Max wasn’t asleep, she was fucking scarred for life, hearing you and her brother going at it for the past 20 minutes! Not even her music could drown out every slap of your skin and scream of his name. Her eyes were wide open as she stared at the wall, there was no way she would be able to look either one of you in the eye again.

The worst part was that you were one of Billy’s nice girlfriends. You helped her study, braided her hair, gave her tips and tricks on where to shop, you were like a sister to her. And the fact that Billy! Billy was doing that! With you?! It grossed her out to such an extent she couldn’t even get the thought out of her mind.

Thai extended for about a week, despite car rides to and from school, she’d managed to avoid both of you. Luckily she wasn’t home much, especially when you were over. Deciding it was best to leave when you were alone.

She shuddered as she grabbed her books from her locker and bumped into Lucas.

“Woah, you good, you look like you haven’t slept in weeks” Lucas commented.

“Thanks, dick” she cursed. Lucas raised his hands up.

“Sorry, jeez what’s up with you lately?” He asked, walking with her to the car park.

“I- Umm .... oh god” she saw you and Billy at his car, he had you pressed against it as he made out with you, his hands wondering places. She gagged. “I- heard Billy and Y/N... uhhh”

“oh... OH!” Lucas let out a chuckle, shivering. “OH! They’re picking us up tonight as well... ok, just don’t mention it... I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just don’t tell Dustin or he’ll go crazy”

“Tell me what? Amigos” Dustin smirked, trying to act cool, smoothing his hair back.

“Stop trying to act like Billy, and it doesn’t matter” Max giggled at his attempt to be smooth.

“Whatever, let’s go then! I’ve been waiting to watch this film for a whole year!” Max breathed out, her eyes staying trained on the ground.

Billy was practically grinding against you by the time they reached the camaro.

Mike cleared his throat nervously.

“Get in the back and don’t, I repeat DONT! Get anything on the leather, I’m talking muddy shoes, books, even if you have to awkwardly hover, I don’t care... but if I see any marks on this car I swear to god I’ll-“

“Be very disappointed” you interjected, glaring at Billy. “Anyway let’s go”.

—————

After an awkward drive you finally arrived at the Hargroves household.

“Kids sit on the floor, ain’t enough room for all of you up here” Billy grumbled, grabbing a bag of chips and ripping them open. He gave you them to hold, sitting down on the couch, his arm resting over the back of it, you cuddled up against his side.

Max and Lucas sat uncomfortably on the rug in front of you.

The movie started and nothing happened, the only noise from behind Max was the sound of yours and Billy’s fingers digging into the chip bag and crunching.

Max felt herself relax, the awkwardness settling as she watched the film.

Then she heard some ... noises ... make our noises.

She could hear yours and Billy’s lips as they pushed together and roughly kissed eachother.

Her eyes widened, a disgusted frown apparent on her face as she kept staring at the screen, remembering the noises she’d heard earlier that week.

And then a sex scene came on TV, nothing too graphic but the noises. The damn noises, no wonder why Dustin wasn’t allowed to watch this at home. She covered her ears and stood up in front of the TV.

“Can you please, stop making out for one minute!” She growled. “It’s so gross! It’s like two wet fucking fishes slapping against eachother!” She groaned.

“Ever since last week you’ve been doing it all the time! Do you ever stop!” She yelled. Billy looked like he was gonna start shouting, meanwhile you were very confused.

“Max, what’re you talking about?” You asked, moving your face away from Billy’s.

“I’m talking about last week Y/N, when you and Billy were doing it!” She gagged at the thought again.

“And so what if we were doing it!” Billy defended.

You nudged him to shut up.

“Wait you heard us?”

“You weren’t exactly being quiet! You were screaming his name ‘BILLY!’ ‘OH BILLY’” she imitated. Lucas was about to burst into laughter.

“Did Billy hurt Y/N?” El asked innocently. Mikes eyes widened, meanwhile Dustin tried to watch the film.

“No I didn’t hurt her, I was f-“

“Helping me with my homework, but it was really hard... that’s why I was screaming, because I was just so frustrated, don’t worry about it El” you reassured her.

“Me and Mike do it all the time!” She smiled, completely unaware.

“We do not!” El looked even more confused.

“Either way! Max we apologise, we thought you were out at the arcade and then came back after, we should’ve checked before hand... but at the same time... we are adults now, and when two people love eachother very much...”

“OK! ok I get it, I’m sorry it’s just gross ok” Max calmed down sitting back onto the floor. At least you’d be a little more aware next time. But that thought of a ‘next time’ still made her gag.

“Finally” Dustin added, eyes trained on the screen. Max threw a pillow at him. “What was that for”

“Just shut up” she groaned.

Dustin smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

—————

Later that night.

El sat at the table with Hopper, eating some pasta.

“Me and Mike are gonna do it at his house tomorrow” she smiled at him, referring to her and him doing homework.

Hopper dropped his knife and fork.

“What!” He growled.

“Homework, Billy and Y/N do it all the time” she beamed.

Hopper breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m never letting those two near you again, Jesus..” he chuckled.

#billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut

258 notes · View notes

baldrambo · 4 years

Text

On Joyce Byers....

Joyce Byers is a bad ass. So why is she handled with kid gloves by everyone? This is a bit of a companion discussion to my Hopper post from a few weeks ago. Like my prior meta, I will discuss what I believe to be truths about Joyce and her arc, which don’t appear to be aligned with most analyses of her character that I’ve seen elsewhere. I will make 5 assertions and address each of them below the cut because (as per the norm) this got really long and I am not trying to clog up people’s dashboards.

Assertion 1: We have no canon evidence that Lonnie was physically abusive and making Joyce his victim does a disservice to her characterization

Assertion 2: What Bob represented to Joyce was more important to her arc than Bob himself (aka Bob/Joyce were not really a good match)

Assertion 3: Making fun of/being frustrated by Joyce’s magnet obsession misses the point of her arc in S3, which was about her pro-activity rather than reactivity

Assertion 4: Joyce inappropriately attempts to compartmentalize Hopper (aka Joyce needs to let Lonnie and Bob go if she’s to ever move on)

Assertion 5: Joyce is not a delicate cinnamon roll in need of our protection she is a BAMF and should be treated as such.

Assertion 1:

Our first introduction to Joyce is as a small, mousy, anxious, chain-smoking single mom who….can’t find her keys. And not because she is is careless. She has literally SO much on her plate at any given moment that the location of her keys is trivial until it’s not. She works long hours at a low-wage job to support her boys. She really has no life outside of work, paying bills, and cleaning house. Wash, rinse, repeat. She is just barely scraping by.

And yet we learn through flashbacks fairly quickly after Will’s disappearance that despite working long hours, despite the constant stress….she still manages to find time to parent her boys. And not just be any old parent, mind you. Joyce Byers is a good parent. When Will is out in Castle Byers she doesn’t just barge in. She respects his personal space, remembers a unique nerdy password, and waits for him to tell her that she can enter. She then trusts his judgment when he says that he can handle watching Poltergeist. This is later juxtaposed by the scene in Nancy’s bedroom with Jonathan where Karen attempts to enter the bedroom after Nancy has had to lock it. Jonathan looks at Nancy, a little shocked, and says “she doesn’t knock?” Which is weird to him, of course, because Joyce would always knock. Now lets contrast Joyce, who is Mother of the Year, with Lonnie Byers who is a Grade A Piece of Shit™. He abandoned the family and hasn’t seen them in years. And when he was around, he spent his time being a deadbeat, calling his son a faggot, and trying to force his boys into being “manlier” and more mainstream.

We first meet Lonnie in 1x2 when Jonathan drives out to Indianapolis to confirm that Will is in fact, not with his father. When Lonnie’s girlfriend answers the door, Jonathan pushes past her and into the home, shouting for his brother. Lonnie then comes in from outside, grabs Jonathan, and pushes him up against a wall. Only then does he realize it’s his son. Lonnie hadn’t seen Jonathan in so long that he almost didn’t recognize him, and initially thought him an intruder. Jonathan angrily shoves Lonnie back, who steps back and laughs. Notably, Jonathan does not appear to fear Lonnie and Lonnie makes no attempt to otherwise assert any other type of physical control over Jonathan. Lonnie talks to him like he’s an adult.

When Lonnie returns in 1x5 for Will’s funeral, he is an immediate negative influence who has Joyce up drinking all night, calls her crazy, and starts sniping at Jonathan about some stupid poster in his bedroom being inappropriate. However, there is no real confrontation until Joyce finds the flyer in his belongings and realizes he is attempting to collect on Will’s “death.” She screams at Lonnie and holds her ground when he shouts back. She shoves him. She gets in his face and throws his bag at him. And then little 5′2 Joyce Byers successfully throws a grown ass man out of her house. He never raises a hand to her.

This is not a Lonnie Byers apology piece. Lonnie Byers is a shitty dad, shitty partner, shitty person. I think an entirely separate piece could be written on the emotional abuse of his boys (although in the 80′s Midwest much of that would be considered normal, but that’s another essay). But there is nothing to suggest that Lonnie ever hit them, or Joyce. If the Duffers wanted Lonnie to be physically abusive, they would make it obvious, no?

The most clear example of this? Neil Hargrove. When he enters Billy’s bedroom in 2x8, he has complete control. Over Billy, his wife, the conversation. He overtly strikes Billy, humiliates him, and it’s clear that Billy fears him. Susan Hargrove also fears him, and she stands in the background for the entire confrontation, avoiding eye contact, saying nothing. The only time she attempts to intercede is to diffuse the situation, diffuse Neil, when he commands that Billy apologize and quickly shuts up when it’s clear her efforts didn’t work. She then exits the room, first allowing him to leave the room before her. The dynamics here are light years from Joyce/Lonnie/Jonathan.

Ok so. Why am I bringing all of this up? Because, imo, turning Lonnie into a physical abuser cuts at the heart of Joyce’s characterization. Joyce Byers is a fighter. That’s what Bob loved about her. “You fight back,” he told her, in a somewhat awestruck voice. Joyce is not a Susan Hargrove. None of this is to suggest that Susan is to blame for what she has gone through, or that somehow Joyce is better for not being like her. I contrast them because the Duffer brothers do. Joyce will steamroll anyone and anything that gets in her way to protect her boys. If she’s on a mission….if she is trying to save someone…watch out. Making Lonnie a physical abuser so he can be a plot device, or because it makes it easier to hate and villainize him upsets the core of Joyce’s character. And it changes the entire show.

Assertion 2:

Much of Joyce’s inner strength shines through in S2. When S2 begins, Joyce can’t leave Will’s side and still worries about him incessantly. She’s overbearing and “struggles to function” whenever she is not with him. She is forced to re-live the horrors of what her and her family went through every time she goes to Hawkins Lab and worse…she has to place her trust in the very same people who nearly ripped her family apart. Yet, she doesn’t give up, she soldiers on for Jonathan and Will. But so much like S1, S2 Joyce is helpless. She is unable to control what is happening around her. The events of S1-S2 make her reactionary, she gets dragged along by the plot instead of driving the plot.

But there is one bright spot of happiness for her…..Bob. He is the exact opposite of Lonnie in every way. He is kind, thoughtful, hardworking, honest, and trustworthy. He put Joyce first, he tried to bond with and be a parent to Will and Jonathan. And he was willing to jump in to the fray when he had no idea what was going on to save her, save everyone despite being absolutely terrified. Bob Newby. Superhero.

There are some early warning signs that perhaps….we as the audience are not supposed to view this as the perfect match? Jonathan, in particular, doesn’t seem to approve at all, in fact, it downright confuses him. He confides in Will that he doesn’t understand what Joyce sees in him and later gets agitated when he learns that Bob has stayed the night. Hopper, too, seems to struggle with it. And while a lot of that can probably be chalked up to the early signs of jealousy, his forced “I’m happy for you” appears to be at least somewhat tied to his inability to take her dating “Bob the Brain” seriously. Why drop all these hints if it doesn’t mean anything?

It’s the conversation she has with Bob in 2x2 on Halloween that really cements Joyce’s arc and Bob’s central purpose. While they’re dancing to Kenny Rogers, he starts prattling on about moving to Maine. He’s in love with her, he knows being in Hawkins is hard for her. So why not start over again and be a family? “We aren’t a normal family.” She tells Bob. His response is simple: “It could be.” And that moment plants that seed for Joyce. What if they COULD be a happy, nuclear family? What if they COULD leave all that trauma behind them and finally find safety and security? She starts thinking on it so much that by the end of S2 when Bob brings it up again, she’s all but ready. And the Duffers have confirmed, if Bob had survived she would have gone with him to Maine.

But here’s the thing: what if someone else besides Bob had planted the idea in her head? Would she have wanted it any less? Or consider, was it really Bob himself that drove her desire, or was it always lying dormant there waiting to be activated? If she had started dating Hopper after S1 instead and HE had been the one to make the suggestion, would she have desired it any less? Did she really love Bob himself, or the idea of him?

It’s easy to romanticize Bob because he seemed perfect, he represented the happy ending that Joyce wants, that WE WANT for her, but here’s the thing. There is no perfect guy. You can’t move a few states away and leave behind Demogorgons and another dimension that nearly killed your son. That stays with you wherever you go, and you have to face it and deal with it. You can’t run away from trauma, and Joyce has to realize this. Joyce is chasing a mirage. Perhaps Bob was kind of a mirage, too.

Assertion 3:.

The Joyce we see at the end of s2 seems….like she’s going to be okay. She has her boys, Hopper’s friendship. She’s lost Bob but the Gate is closed now, everyone is safe (or so everyone thinks). But then there’s S3 Joyce. She’s lonely, isolated, sad, discontent, and restless. The kids are trying to move on from the events of S1-S2. But she’s unable to. She’s unable to move on from Bob, from her fear that her boys could still be in danger, from the feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong again and she won’t be able to stop it.

So Joyce preemptively reshapes her arc. She decides she is going to put her own house on the market. Bob may not be coming with her but goddammit she is going to move anyway and find safety somewhere else. When she notices the magnets fall off the fridge she is not going to wait and see what happens, SHE is going to go research magnets and solenoids and weird science stuff she doesn’t understand and SHE is going to figure it out and SHE is going bring it to Hopper before shit hits the fan. And when they call the military, SHE is not going to wait around for them to show up and save her kids. She’s going to take action herself.

Thus, Joyce is driving much of the plot in S3, rather than being dragged along by the plot as she was in S1-S2. She is not focusing all of her time and energy on Will and his safety, and reacting to where he is and what he’s doing, she is able to focus on Hopper, El, the Party, the bigger picture. Will kept her focus narrowed, magnets expanded them.

And perhaps most significantly, the magnet obsession is what ultimately saved the day. Joyce is the hero of S3. Think about who saved the day in S1-S2. Who were the heroes? El and Hopper. In S1, El sacrificed herself to kill the Demogorgon and save the Party and Hopper resuscitated Will. In S2, El and Hopper closed the Gate. In S3, who saved the day? El? She had no power. She wasn’t even the one fighting the Meat Flayer. Hopper? He was trapped on the platform. Who closed the Gate and killed the “Meat Flayer?” Joyce. By herself. This ended the threat, this stopped the “Meat Flayer,” this saved El and the Party.

I think it’s easy to miss all of this due to the tonal shift in S3, which added some silliness to the plot lines that didn’t exist in S1-S2. On the surface, obsessing about magnets instead of your son seems ridiculous. But this shift gave Joyce’s character a chance to breathe, a chance to grapple with her own feelings, what she wants, it gave her a chance to just be Joyce instead of Mom™. So S3 is about her, instead of what is happening to her.

And i think, ultimately, this tonal shift in S3 is what allowed that to happen. If the circumstances in S3 were the same as S1-S2, then the Duffers wouldn’t have had this freedom. If we want to see Joyce grow as a character, there has to be time and energy spent on her away from her kids and away from the same closed loop of S1-S2. Which brings me to my next point.

Assertion 4:

Jopper. You can’t expect me to write this long ass meta on Joyce Byers and not talk about Hopper, right?

In early S3 there is obviously a marked shift in her relationship with Hopper. There are no longer secrets (El) or other relationships (Bob) that they can use to hold each other at arm’s length anymore. There are no other adults in town now who understand what they’ve been through. Joyce is effectively co-parenting El with Hopper and it’s clear that he not only asks her for advice often but that they spend a lot of time together. This did not happen between 1 and 2. It’s made fairly clear upfront that Hopper is hopelessly in love with her, but what of Joyce? She’s more difficult to read. And this is due in large part to the fact that she is more complicated than Hopper and her feelings are more complicated than his.

I am not here to argue about whether I think Joyce loves Hopper. This entire analysis is based on the assumption that she does because I think the Duffers and Winona have given us more than enough to go on to draw that conclusion. What I AM here to argue, however, is that Joyce is still grappling with what she wants and (inappropriately so) is attempting to compartmentalize Hopper.

Adult relationships are complicated and particularly for a character like Joyce, who has been to Hell and back a few times, there is added complexity that has to be dealt with and worked through. She’s been in prior relationships before. She knows what it’s like to be in love and she’s felt the pain and grief that comes along with it. She’s been divorced already, had a spouse that abandoned her, children to prioritize over her own love life, and trauma stemming both from the events of 1983-1985 and separate from it. Joyce, especially, is fresh off the train of losing a love interest who she got close to very quickly. You can imagine her hesitation about leaping forwards again with someone else who could die.

There’s your backdrop for Joyce in S3. Throw a healthy dollop of she has feelings for Hopper and then point blank ask her: “What do you want, Joyce?” She could probably tell you that she wants to feel safe again. That she wants to be free of the pain and grief of losing Bob and what happened in S1-S2. If you really can get her to open up (or if you are a mind reader like Murray) you would also find out that she is still holding onto that desire to have a normal, happy family which includes a “nice guy to settle down with.” The thing about Hopper is that he fulfills all of this for her, just messily. Joyce is still looking for that coloring book of life to be filled in by an artist (Bob). Hopper fills it in like a 3 year old with disorganized scribbles that cover the picture but can’t quite stay in the lines. Lonnie is easy: he never even filled in the lines to begin with.

Hopper shares personality traits with both Bob and Lonnie. Like Bob, he makes her feel safe, she can trust him, she knows he cares about her, feels more than friendship for her. But he’s also brash and loud and argumentative and after spending a decade of her life screaming with Lonnie….she doesn’t want that again. He probably at times DOES “remind her of a bad relationship,” but Hopper is not Lonnie. He respects her, treats her like an equal, trusts her judgment. But she can’t escape the constant comparisons.

And what I’ve seen from a lot of the fandom are the same attempts to shove Hopper into the “Lonnie” box or the “Bob” box that Joyce keeps trying to do. S1-S2 Hopper is in the “Bob” box. We like S1-S2 Hopper. But S3 Hopper, man. He is in the “Lonnie” box. He yells and stamps his feet. This Hopper isn’t “good enough” for Joyce.

But here’s my radical proposition: Hopper IS good enough for Joyce if he is who she wants. And he is what she wants. But she needs to let Lonnie and Bob go first.

Lonnie and Bob still have a hold on her and if she is going to be able to take that leap forward with Hopper she needs to put their ghosts to rest. She couldn’t save Bob, but maybe she can save Hopper. Maybe Hopper isn’t perfect and has a temper, but that is ok because he loves her and respects her unlike Lonnie. I think if we see Joyce work through this in S4 and join her on her journey of making the decision to be with Hop and making that choice FOR HERSELF rather than the plot or some other force making that decision for her, the payout is gonna be huge.

Assertion 5:

Finally, I wanted to touch on the common theme of this whole analysis: that despite this inner strength, despite the growth and change her character has undergone, she is still largely handled by the ST fandom with kid gloves. Like she is someone that can’t take care of herself, and who we need to step in and defend and protect against….the world. Here are a few examples I’ve seen over and over:

1) Mischaracterizing S3 Hopper as an “abuser” that Joyce needs “protection” from, much like she needed “protection” from Lonnie.

2) Attempting to turn Jonathan into her protector/her keeper.

3) Defending her when she is in the wrong because she is Mom™ (see i.e. standing Hopper up for their date and being non-apologetic about it.)

4) Analyzing “what is best for Joyce” without thinking about her canon feelings or what SHE wants

As I dissected above, Joyce never needed protection from Lonnie. She doesn’t need protection from Hopper. Or anyone. She doesn’t need Jonathan stepping in for her and she does not need us the fandom, to decide FOR her what she wants and what she can and cannot do. All this does is, ultimately, build her arc around men and strip her of her agency as a character.

All the canon evidence suggests that she is a bad ass. She curb stomps assholes on the regular and saves the day, multiple times. So why is it next to impossible to find any discussion of Joyce that doesn’t involve complaints of what man (Duffer or otherwise) is wronging her at any moment? Is it because it’s just easier to pidgeonhole characters, particularly female characters, into villain/oppressor and “the good guy?” Because if we open her up into complexity outside of being our cinnamon roll mom we worry she could disappoint us? Because we cannot accept that a good female character doesn’t need protection? What happens if Joyce is just a complex person who is both mom and badass? Focused on her kids and herself? Deserving of her own life and respect for her autonomy? Is both selfish and selfless?

Joyce, imo, has one of the most compelling arcs on the entire show. We are introduced to her as a Mom who is barely holding it together already and then loses her son, sending her into a spiral that her inner strength alone carries her through. After nearly losing her kid again, she loses her boyfriend horrifically, and just when she thinks they may have finally escaped it all permanently she has to single-handedly close the Gate, torching the only other man she loves in the process. So she packs her shit up and moves her family away from the danger. She goes from the most reactive character on the show to, perhaps, the most proactive one.

She may not have “powers,” she may not be able to effectively wield a gun, but she can knee an asshole in the crotch and that makes her a hero to me. I say let her be everything she is, allow her to explore her own wants even if they are imperfect, let her make mistakes and stand up for and protect herself, and let her be her own person outside of the character arcs of other male characters.

Andddddd end scene.

#joyce byers #jim hopper #jopper #jonathan byers #lonnie byers #thank you for coming to my long winded ted talk part 2 #aka joyce byers could beat my ass and i am here for it #also this got me all kinds of hype for s4 lemme tell you its gonna be JOYCES SEASON #anyway if you read this please give me your thoughts i love to hear what other people agree and disagree about #i get so wrapped up in these im sorry they're so long jfc #meta

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