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munsster · 2 months

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rockstar!eddie munson x nepobaby!reader's timeline

i'm finally doing it, putting all the rockstar!eddie and nb!reader works in order on this. i'm going to include the blurbs too bc why not lol. so here it is for anyone wanting a timeline or to read in order. from earliest to latest:

groupie love was a prequel to rockstar!eddie. initially i wasn't going to do much with him but make him nasty and leave it, but you guys loved him so much he blossomed into what he is today haha. this is one of many encounters he had before nb, kinda to establish his relationship, and it's mentioned in the future works too.

sinister play this is the meeting. this is where it all begins. where you meet eddie, how you meet eddie, and more importantly where all this fuck buddy stuff starts.

dark shadows is next. this is the start of the two of them not hate-fucking anymore and it turning into a real relationship. nb shares a secret and so does eddie, and they kinda start to realize the other isn't so bad and they're not so different.

this angsty blurb was requested and written for vivi's blurb game (a blurb game that we play on here sometimes, created by the wonderful @queenimmadolla) focuses on a fight they have kinda following this. it sorta highlights the shift in the relationship now that they know more about each other and have more feelings.

linger is like a long blurb but it's one of the first ones where they're in a real relationship, and they're not fucking mean??? if that makes sense. just a sweet smut piece. they're still in a secretive relationship, the world doesn't know, but they're together.

lowe's blurb was written for vivi's blurb game and follows them as they try to keep their relationship a secret, while being a little horny lol. short and sweet and fluffy.

girls on film is where they've announced their engagement and relationship to the world, it's mentioned in here. sorta shows the shock value they had and how they wanted to keep it going??? that raunchy type rock and roll couple that's shocking to the world vibe.

awards ceremony blurb was requested for vivi's blurb game. it's right after they went public to the world and shows their relationship. highlights eddie winning an award and shouting nb out. very fluffy.

pool blurb is a requested blurb from vivi's blurb game. nb and rockstar!ed have just moved into their forever home. they're talking plans for the future, and it's silly and fluffy.

jealousy blurb was requested for vivi's blurb game, and is after the wedding, one of eddie's 'ex-groupies' shows up where they're at and nb get's jealous. angsty.

pieces of you and me is kinda weird in the timeline because it shows 1) where nb gets pregnant and how but also 2) why they named their girls what they did. the intro to parenthood fic. its's got time jumps but kinda through the years.

treat me rough is technically next??? it's a pregnancy fic about nb pregnant with their first child.

persephone's first vacation is a blurb from vivi's blurb game that was requested. it follows rockstar!ed, nb, and wayne with baby sephy only a few months old on their first mini vacation. super fluffy.

this sunscreen blurb is short and was apart of vivi's blurb game. it's rockstar!eddie and baby sephy.

persephone's first birthday blurb was requested for vivi's blurb game and is a short and sweet blurb that shows their change in dynamic because of parenthood. super fluffy.

the time warp is a halloween special work i did to show rockstar!eddie and nb's relationship throughout the year with a halloween tradition. it's a time jump but it has them as newly weds, pregnant, and with the kids.

the fourth of july blurb was requested as a part of vivi's blurb game. it's a silly blurb with rockstar!ed and nb's domestic life and is centered around one forth of july holiday.

it's tricky is also a halloween fic where they take the girls to hawkins to trick-or-treat for a 'real halloween' experience. another work from the halloween special i did, but fluffy.

the father's day blurb is another requested blurb from vivi's blurb game, and follows a father's day with the girls and rockstar!ed. super fluffy.

paparazzi blurb was a requested blurb from vivi's blurb game, with the twins and nb where they get followed by paparazzi while they're out.

super trouper is more in the future. shows eddie's relationship with his kids but also nb's parents. follows zahra's birthday and is super fluffy and sweet.

gone fishin' is last on the list, and is way in the future. follows grandpa wayne and little vega and their fishing adventure while visiting hawkins for the summer. super fluffy and domestic and cute!

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #fic recs

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munsster · 2 months

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(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.

“I wanna see Max.”

“She has to be here somewhere.”

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.

Steve frowns at you worriedly.

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.

“Is it awful?” you ask.

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.

“Dustin. He’s outside.”

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?”

“Like you like him.”

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.

“Looks like something. Are you dating?”

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”

“He was touching you a lot.”

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.

Oh, boy, you think.

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”

“Steve.”

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.

“What?” he asks.

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”

“I sounded weird?”

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.

“You were in the way of the light.”

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.

“It’s good.”

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.”

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”

“I thought…” And of course he did.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.

“Yeah.”

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.

“I like you too!” he says loudly.

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.

“You okay?” he asks tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”

You nod vehemently.

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.

“You can be my parasol.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a sun umbrella.”

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.

“No… I’m thinking.”

“Nothing good ever comes of that.”

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.

“It’s a question.”

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke.

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#i cried like a BABY!#😭😭🏃‍♀️#steve harrington #steve harrington fic rec

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munsster · 4 months

Note

hey! if ur requests are open could you do a little smth about billy taking care of drunk!reader ??

feel free to ignore if you don’t want to :)

designated loverboy

A/N: i just think… dd billy hargrove x passenger princess gif creds: @suledins

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x GN!Drunk!Reader

Summary: Billy makes sure you know how pretty you are, even when you’re drunk. 1.3k words

Warnings: sloppy drunkenness, fluff, established relationship, reader is clingy/touchy, pet names (baby, honey)

Just last year, Billy had been discharged from the hospital. He didn’t recognize the place he’d gone to school, the house he’d been living in, the body he’d grown into. He felt foreign in a place he’d finally gotten used to calling home.

But then he met you, and it was like you were the only other person speaking his language. He’d never understood a breath of fresh air until he reached your surface. The first time you touched him—his right bicep, he can still feel your fingers there if he closes his eyes—it took a week for his heart to settle down.

Now you’re clinging to him for dear life because you can’t say no to free shots. He can tell he’s going to have to help you to the car when you get this glossy look in your eye. You’re the sloppiest drunk he’s ever met, and it makes him want to stay sober for you.

Billy shovels you into the passenger seat just as the fattest tears come rolling down your cheeks. He clicks your seatbelt into place while your fingers sift through the soft curls fallen over his forehead. Your tears slip down your neck, but he’s trying to catch them with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he coos, cradling your wrist and holding his knuckle to your cheekbone.

“Billy, I don’t ever want you to get rid of your fringe.” You fluff the hair at his brow and pinch the really tight curl by his temple. He cracks a smile. “I just love your fringe, it’s like… your special flair, Billy. Fringe. Fringe flair. Fringe flair… Oh my g—I’m so… good!”

You giggle, only interrupted by a hiccup as Billy smooths his big palms over your damp cheeks.

“You are so good, baby”—and kisses the fingers you shove against his lips—“I’m goin’ to my seat now, alright?”

You think about it for a second and then nod.

“Yes, baby! Just don’t go away for too long, baby!”

He chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Promise,” and hooks his pinkie around yours. You giggle.

“Promise, baby!”

He flashes his nice teeth and sets his hand on the top edge of your car door.

“Watch your toes.”

You shuffle your feet inward across the floor mat and he watches your smile twinkle up at him just before he shuts the door. When he slips into his seat. you pout at him.

“Was I gone for too long?”

You nod, so he leans over and kisses you.

“All better!”

You cackle and then hiccup against his shoulder as he turns the key and the car grumbles to a start. You stare at the radio, doe-eyed and curious as he pulls away from the curb.

“Wanna play somethin’?”

You nod and weakly reach out to press every button until his tape comes thru the stereo. You sigh and watch him tap the steering wheel along to the song.

Just one more night

And I’m coming off this long and winding road

You smile. “Like us.”

He glances over. “What’s that?”

You point to the stereo and chirp, “That’s what we’re doing, too.”

And you hum softly to the tune:

I’m on my way-ay-ey

Home sweet home

He chuckles and reaches for your hand.

“We are, aren’t we?”

You hold the back of his hand to your mouth and press a sloppy kiss to his knuckles. And, Jesus, when he catches a glimpse of you between the streetlights, you bat your lashes at him and pinch the skin between your teeth. He can’t keep his eyes on the road as he shifts his thigh.

“You’re really warm,” you say.

He looks straight ahead, squeezing your hand.

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.”

You set your intertwined hands on the center console and gape at him. He looks back and suddenly you’re frowning again.

“Baby—”

“You think I’m pretty? Really?”

He grins. “Come on…”

Billy only lets your hand go to bring his thumb to your cheek and swipe away the sudden and thick tears rolling down your cheeks. One smacks against the seat, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Baby, please!”

You sniffle, pressing your sleeve to your runny nose. “‘S not funny.”

Stifling a laugh, he chokes, “No, ‘course, honey, I’m not laughin’ at you. Nothin’s funny, that’s not what’s so funny, okay?”

He thinks you might not forgive him this time, but you nod sweetly and whisper, “Am I still pretty, you think?”

Now he’s the one frowning. A little, but it breaks his heart you think a couple of tears will scare him off. Even when you love him past the scars.

“Always, baby, come on, you’re always so pretty.”

It rolls around in your head like a single die, edges rattling against all the hard bone. And the number you land on:

“Even if I had lots of boogers and it just… never stopped?”

“Well…” Oh, and he really should’ve known how serious you’d take it when you slump into your seat. “No! No, that wouldn’t change anything, baby, shouldn’t’ve said it. All the boogers in the world couldn’t put me off’a you, alright?”

Your sad, wet face turns to him. “Mean it?”

He nods. And cracks a smile at how serious you sound. At how genuinely he feels it rotting away so sweetly at his bones.

“Of course, I mean it.”

You grab his hand again, this time shoving it’s warmth against your cheek, and he’s flicking between you and the road. But you just rub the back of his hand as he’s turning onto your street.

“That girl tonight… she was so nice,” you coo, “never met anyone so nice, and she even offered me water and sat with me on the couch. She was so, so nice.”

Billy remembers seeing her next to you. He remebers trying to remember where he’d seen her before. From across the room, he watched you laugh at her joke and felt warmth spread through his taut chest. Loosened him up as he realized you’re the only person he’d happily stay sober for.

“Sounds like I’ve got competition—”

It’s silly of him to say, because he knows you’d start a war before letting him think he’s replaceable in any capacity. But it’s a nice reminder that he’s worth a war. And he likes the sound of your voice.

“NO, BILLY! No! You’re nice, too, don’t worry! But you’re nice ‘cause you love me, and she was a stranger who was nice and I don’t think she loves me. But you do, and that’s why you’re so nice! And you’re nice looking, too!”

He nods like he’s getting the mental picture, slotting the puzzle pieces into places they don’t fit. “Ohh, okay.”

The engine ticks once he brings the car to a stop. He makes sure to hustle when he opens your door and reaches for your seat belt buckle. He doesn’t expect you to ragdoll against him, but he catches you before he teeters all the way backwards.

“Really, you are nice,” you whisper.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, baby! Can we cuddle about it??”

He shuts your door behind you and hooks his arm around your back tightly so he can be your center of gravity.

“Definitely. Did you wanna wait ‘til we’re inside, or just cuddle out here—”

“No, no, no, no—“

“Are you sure? It’s the perfect temperature out here,” he teases.

“Billy, please no, no, inside, please.”

“But the grass is nice!”

“Billy!!! Please, no grass!!” you whine, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and attempting to drag him towards your door. He pretends to fall weak to your incredible strength.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I’m sure. No grass!”

“Alright, I hear ya. No grass,” Billy says, pulling you back against his side and kissing your temple.

“Promise?” you huff.

“Promise.”

masterlist

#billy hargrove #billy #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x drunk!reader #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #x gn!reader #x gn reader #established relationship

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