#billy hargrove redemption

[smellslikesadgaychildren]

This boy was not a villain. He was a victim

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 25: Merry Christmas

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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@laceypdf

[maltedmilkks]

after the night at the byer’s, billy and steve both sport the same bruises.

and it doesn’t make sense.

steve’s sure he didn’t get that many hits in, and even then, it wasn’t hard enough to give billy a shiner like his.

and the worst part is, he feels bad.

“Hey, man,” He starts, cornering billy after a particularly difficult basketball practice. billy was awful. he kept his shirt on, too, which was weird. steve was benched completely; he can barely see out of one eye, and the other is still swollen shut.

billy’s panting from practice, hunched over as if it hurts to breathe. facing his locker and not replying to steve.

“um,” steve continues. “i…feel bad about what happened this weekend. i was just looking out for the kids, y’know, and i didn’t mean to hit you that h-“

billy turns around, snarling. looking like a battered, cornered wild dog.

“oh fuck right off, harrington,” he spits, and shoulders his way out.

“dude,” steve says, curling his lip. “i’m trying to apologize to you, asshole.”

“i don’t need your apology,” billy replies, and it hurts a little.

“well maybe if you hadn’t been a racist asshole i wouldn’t have had to hit you in the first plac-“

billy seems even angrier.

“i am not a fucking racist, harrington,” he snarls, but it lacks the horror his voice used to hold because of the wounds on his face.

steve grimaces. “yeah, totally, you just attacked lucas because he happened to be the closest.”

billy looks around the locker room as if someone is watching him. nervous.

“it’s not because of that,” he mutters, chewing on his swollen bottom lip.

“then why?” steve presses. “because if i recall, he didn’t do a damn thing to you, billy.”

billy swallows and refuses to make eye contact.

“it’s my fucking dad, harrington. he finds out max is messing around with a black kid and all three of us get a shiner worse than mine. i couldn’t care less about what those little shits are doing, but he does.”

steve’s face softens.

“so you’re…taking the punches for max?”

“that’s a stupid way to put it.”

“i…” steve gapes. “why don’t you go to hopper or something? he could put your dad in j-“

“because, harrington, i’ve got nowhere to go and no one gives a shit anyway if a dad beats his son as discipline. but i can’t let him put a hand on max. she doesn’t deserve it. even if she’s a fucking bitch.”

billy shakes his head like he’s said something awful.

“now you know. congratulations, harrington. i spent all this time stealing your crown and now you know that i’m just a pussy whose dad beats him. have fun spreading that one around.”

billy turns to leave and steve catches him by the arm.

“i’m not going to tell anyone,” he says, and billy scoffs.

“i promise. i’m not like that anymore. like you said…turned bitch.”

billy laughs.

“so, what? you look at me like i’m a kicked puppy every time i come to school with my teeth knocked in? because i’d rather you spread rumors about me instead.”

steve shakes his head.

“i wont do that either. promise. i just…i dunno. can i help in any way?”

billy shrugs him off.

“do what you do, i guess. protect those little shits. i’m not as good with kids as you are, mama bird.”

steve flushed at that and grimaces.

“please do not ever call me that again.”

and they laugh. and it feels nice.

“hey, uh, are you doing anything this friday?” steve asks, and it feels natural.

“probably looking after max. parents like to go out a lot and leave me with her.”

“well, why don’t you and her come with me and we can catch a movie maybe? she can bring lucas and you two can patch things up?”

“are you asking me on a date, harrington?”

steve’s face gets even redder.

“no, i just meant-like y’know, it would be nice, and i could, um-“

“it’s cool. i’ll come by friday. 5:00? you get lucas, i’ll bring max.”

steve nods. “um, yeah. that sounds good.”

billy smiles softly. “good. and don’t pick some girly movie. max and i like slashers.”

“right. got it.”

“see ya, steve.”

billy nudges him before jogging off, undoubtably late to pick up max.

and steve is frozen. what started as an apology for his own moral compass turned into a date. steve’s going on a date? with a boy? no, it was just a joke. maybe. probably.

he hopes it wasn’t, though.

[bidarcywriter]

“I know you’ve been hanging out with Steve.”

“Oh.”

“He didn’t rat you out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just, you guys aren’t exactly subtle.” Max half smiled. “Steve thinks he is, but then he asks about you pretty much nonstop, like that’s normal, or something. And you always give me more time to hang with my friends when he’s around. So.” 

Billy’s response was careful and measured, like a cook following an unfamiliar recipe. “You told me to stay away from your friends.” 

There was a question in there somewhere about how okay Max was with that. They hadn’t talked about this before...ever, so. Max doodled on Billy’s nightstand with the tip of her finger. Neither one complained about the lack of eye contact. 

“Guess I forgot to tell my friends to stay away from you. Honestly, I didn’t think I needed to. You were a fucking asshole, but you, I don’t know. Won them over.” She scoffed as if to say imagine that, rubbing at the yellow sunflowers on her nails. Biting her lip. Funny what time, healing, therapy, and a near death experience could do for a guy. Max was fiercely proud of the person he worked so hard to be. Still...something was nagging at her. Billy knew it, too. “Are you two like, really friends? Because Steve thinks you are.”

“We’re not friends.” One look at her face had Billy amending. “Didn’t mean it like that, Jesus. I’m not messing with him anymore. I just meant, I think we’re more. Or...we could be.”

It took Max a minute. Billy stared at her all calm and expectant, as if waiting for the dots to connect, but also looking half unable to breathe, then— “Wait, what the hell? You and Steve Harrington?”

“What, it’s news to you? Thought you said we weren’t subtle.” 

They could’ve been two goddamn sisters braiding each other’s hair and gushing about their first crushes, but Billy didn’t frown or cuss about it. Just seemed a hair embarrassed, if anything. He winced a bit when Max’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh my god, Billy, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

From his confusion, it dawned on Max that he expected her to be outraged. 

A year ago, she would have been. 

“I’m not shitting you,” Billy muttered when he felt secure enough, digging in his jacket pocket for one of those smelly cigarettes. “We’ve been talking for months now.” Billy shrugged like it didn’t matter when it so clearly did; the tension from five seconds ago melted to reveal something warm in his eyes. “Started hanging after my shifts. Last night, fucker even made a move.”

“And?”

At the quirk of his brow and the tell-tale hint of a smirk, Max shook her head. Exasperated. “No gross details, god, I just want to know where it ended up. The you and him thing.” 

“Oh I can tell you in depth about all of it, Maxine -” 

“Jesus, forget I asked.”  

“Are you sure? He makes the cutest sounds when I - ” 

“La la la, NOT listening!” 

“What?” Billy called to the door Max left swinging upon her retreat, all sugar-sweet innocence and a California smile. “I was gonna say, when I bring him coffee.” 

Max didn’t return. 

Well. That was one way to get rid of his nosy, pain-in-the-ass little sister who he actually sort of liked, now. He took a good mental note of it. 

[alice-the-brave]

“I guess,” Harrington shrugs, “I just – my parents, you know? They like to have things to brag about. Sports are about the only thing I’m good for.”

He says it like it’s easy, like its fact. Like he’s heard it a million times and it doesn’t bother him.

Billy thinks about him dropping out of the swim team, about the way he loiters about the pool, watching his kids and staying as far from the water as he can. Thinks about that last season he had on the basketball team, lackluster and disappointing. Cut short by a concussion that benched him for the last game of the season. The last game of his high school career.

A concussion that Billy gave him.

He remembers, too, the way he had talked about the kids, the way he said ‘people who care about me’ like he didn’t have anyone else. Like there weren’t any other options. Like they were all he had in the whole world.

            “Well, don’t forget about that pretty face of yours, Harrington,” Billy says, looking away, watching the kids, trying to see them the way Harrington might.

Harrington laughs at that, throwing his head back, and Billy can’t help but turn slightly to watch him.

            “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve got that going for me, huh?”

            “Sure,” Billy agrees, leaning over to pass him a coke bottle, “Popeye’s turning green with envy, man.”

Harrington snorts at that, reaching out to punch lightly at Billy’s shoulder before he takes the offered drink. 

“Listen man, it’s not that bad if I ditch the hat,” he says, leaning back against his seat and twisting off the cap, oblivious to the way Billy can’t help but watch the flex of his bare arms as he does, “It’s company policy, but, c’mon, Robin’s my manager and it’s not like she’s gonna call me out.” 

“She’s definitely gonna call you out,” Billy argues, “She likes to watch you suffer too much to let that slide. Besides, isn’t that unhygienic or something?” 

“Dude. You really think a dog bowl shaped hat is keeping any of our hair out of the ice cream?” 

“Hmm, yeah, maybe you should get a hairnet.” 

“A hairnet?” Harrington says, scandalized. “You want me to wear a hairnet? Seriously?” 

Billy can’t help but laugh at him, at the suburban house-wife outrage on his face. 

“Listen, man, it’s not about what I want, it’s about safe business practices.” 

“Does Scoops Ahoy seem like the kind of chain that cares about ‘safe business practices’ to you? Dude, Ballast Bubblegum is radioactive, I swear on my life. Nothing approved by the FDA should be that pink.” 

“Since when have you known what the FDA is?” 

Harrington’s smile turns a little wry at that and he takes a long sip of his coke, throat bared and bobbing. Billy adjusts his sunglasses just to make sure they’re still hiding him. 

“Been reading up on all those government agencies lately,” Harrington says, glancing at his kids again, eyes watchful behind his shades, smile placid, “Kind of required reading at this point. What’s with all the letters, anyway? Couldn’t they just name them something that wasn’t a pain to say in the first place?” 

“They’ve got to keep the uneducated masses from asking questions somehow,” Billy shrugs, “Making everything a pain in the ass to tell apart helps.” 

Harrington turns to him with raised brows, lowering his shades to look at him, expression delighted and surprised. 

“Billy Hargrove, are you telling me you don’t trust the American government? How unpatriotic.” 

Billy snorts at that, fishes a cigarette out of his shorts and lights up. 

Billy doesn’t trust the government for shit. He’s not stupid. Korea, Vietnam. The crazy shit that’s still coming out from the earlier days of the Cold War. He’d have to be braindead to trust the feds. The whole thing’s rotten from top to bottom, from the three letter pigs to Tweedledee and Tweedledum sitting at the corner shop in their cruiser. 

Neil had some cop friends back in California. They didn’t do shit about anything if it wasn’t a bank robbery or pushing someone around if they looked like ‘trouble’ – the criteria for which changed depending on the day of the week. Neil hadn’t even cleaned up his act around them all that much. More than that he knows the kind of laws they keep, the kind of things they do to people like him. The cops might not have been able to arrest him just for existing since ’76 but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t beat him to death for it if anyone ever found out. 

So, no, he’s not particularly a fan of Big Brother or whatever. 

But Harrington? He’s the kind of upstanding member of society that volunteers at the police station or on election campaigns. With his parents’ money and reputation, it wouldn’t be strange if he grew up to be some kind of small-town politician. 

Hawkins is the kind of place that really buys into the whole American Dream shit. Working husbands with stay at home wives and two kids with a dog kind of stuff. Wholesome, normal, respectable stuff. They trust the government here. Buy into that ‘serve and protect’ crap Billy’s always known better than to believe. 

But Harrington looks delighted by Billy’s casual rejection of it all, looks like he’s been dying for someone to agree with, someone who wouldn’t laugh nervously or call his mother. Someone who isn’t in fucking middle school. 

“I’m patriotic as hell,” Billy says, blowing smoke up to the sky, “I love beer and a hot dog as much as the next guy. Just would prefer if Big Brother wasn’t watching me take a piss.” 

“Yeah, okay, a real Yankee Doodle,” Harrington says, rolling his eyes, “Big Brother? That’s uh, from that book, right? With the eye.” 

“1984.”��

“Uh,” Harrington says, brow furrowing, “No? ’85? June 15th, it’s – it’s a Saturday?” 

Billy stares at him for a long moment, cigarette dangling from his lips, blinking slow. 

“The book, Harrington. It’s called 1984.” 

“Oh.” 

Harrington flushes, turns back to the water, fidgeting with his bottle. He’s got that same blush he had when Billy was bothering him at work, before Kathy ruined it, like he’s embarrassed. But not – not in a bad way. The line between embarrassment and humiliation is thin as a knife’s edge for him, but Harrington seems to walk it effortlessly. He knows how to be embarrassed without being particularly ashamed, knows how to not let it hurt. Not let it slip and cut too deep. 

“It was written in the 40’s or something,” Billy explains, “as a warning. About government overreach and war and shit.” 

“Yeah, well, that guy was on to something,” Harrington says, shrugging. 

“What, the FBI giving you trouble, pretty boy?” 

Harrington pauses, bottle halfway to his mouth, and cuts Billy a look over his still lowered glasses. 

Suddenly Billy remembers himself. Remembers that the FBI probably should be giving Harrington trouble. Billy knows that he’s an accessory to murder, at least. Knows that he didn’t seem too bothered about that. The kind of unbothered that makes Billy wonder if he’s been more than an accessory. 

Just because Billy doesn’t want to know doesn’t mean someone else doesn’t. 

They’d buried Neil in a patch of dirt somewhere up north, closer to Roane than Hawkins proper. The only Catholic cemetery around for a while. There had been a few graves there, fresh, dates ending in ‘83. The year before they moved here. The year Will Byers died and was resurrected, a cornfed Christ figure that no one seemed to rejoice except for his mother and his gang of nerdy apostles. 

Billy hadn’t asked about the strange number of corpses that cropped up that year.  

He doesn’t want to know. 

[ellewritesandrants]

Billy, when Joyce and Hopper adopt him into their family: Is being queer a requirement to be in this family?

Will: Yes

El: Yes

Jonathan: Yes

Hopper: No

Joyce: Yes

Hopper: You too, Joyce?

Joyce: The 60s were pretty wild but it sure was fun.

[allthingssteddie]

Steve Harrington has started sleep walking.

Backstory lately Steve hasn’t been sleeping well and after Nancy breaking up with him it’s been worse. But with out Steve knowing he has started to sleep walk and the only one who knows about it is Billy Hargrove who’s been getting phone calls from Steve.

So side note is Steve has a crush on billy without him even realizing it and has been calling Billy flirting with him.

Just an idea I had I have not written it.

[prettybillycore]

Finally Safe || Billy Hargrove x Short!Reader

Pairing(s): Billy Hargrove x Short!Reader (gender neutral)

Minor Steve x Nancy, Very Minor Steve x Billy

Universe: Stranger Things

Summary: While the same age as Nancy and Jonathan, you were substantially shorter. You, for some reason, were built smaller than your friends. You had been friends with the Byers family and the Wheelers for many years. Jonathan and Will were basically your family. This lead you to get involved in looking for Barb and Will when everything first happened in 1983. You became trapped in the Upside Down briefly and the experience left you in shock. You found your way out through a portal in the woods, but you were never quite the same afterward. Jonathan, Nancy, and even Steve (after learning about the Upside Down) became protective of you. It’s now 1984 and a certain Californian had his eyes on you. 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, the lab, descriptions of injury, depictions of a panic attack, PTSD from the upside down, and alcohol

Read it on Ao3 (or here on Tumblr below the cut!)

Everyone who knew about the Upside Down had been affected by it. The place was horrifying, after all. You had a closer encounter than some of the other teens though. You were helping Nancy and Jonathan look for traces of Barb when you cut yourself on a busted beer can in Steve’s backyard. You saw what was left of Barb plus the monster that killed her; who now wanted to kill you. You weren’t sure how you made it out alive, but one thing lead to another. One minute you were running through a hellscape from a monster like nothing you had ever seen, the next you were in the woods, screaming so loud it felt like your lungs were going to explode. 

You keep running, screaming, and crying until you ran into a search party looking for Will. Joyce was among this particular party and you ran straight into her arms. She hugged you tightly and asked you what had happened, but you couldn’t get the words out. Hopper shined his flashlight over to the two of you, which lead him to realize that you were absolutely covered in your own blood. Cuts to your body had been made from something , but it looked different from every bear attack he had ever seen. One of the locals helped Joyce lower you to the ground and began to tend to your wounds. They were painful and sore, but they weren’t fatal. The person helping you said that the thing they should most be worried about was your blood supply and the fact that you ran while in this condition. The last thing you remember from that night was Joyce squeezing your arm as Jonathan came running over. 

You couldn’t get yourself to talk about what happened to you for a long time. Jonathan and Nancy were able to figure out what happened to you based on the drawings that you gave. You were thrilled when Will was found a few days later. Your bond only became closer with the Byers family after that, because you and Will (unfortunately) had shared experiences. You knew that no one at school outside of Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve would believe what you had been through. You started to shrink away from even the three of them some days though. You had overall just become a much more quiet person after your experience. You never expected Billy Hargrove to be the source of light you needed to become your brighter self again. 

He was brash, rude, and arrogant. You usually had a disdain toward popular jocks with god complexes, but you caught yourself staring at him from across the cafeteria and while in your shared chemistry lab. Something about him, in particular, was intriguing; and you absolutely hated the fact that you thought of him like that. He never seemed interested in you though. He had no reason to even know that you existed. You were just another person at this school to him and you were sure it was always going to be that way. 

You watched him flirt with different girls every day. You saw the hatred in Steve’s eyes as he walked by you both in the parking lot one morning. That seemed to be the morning that Billy first noticed you. He scoffed in Steve’s general direction and rolled his eyes at the concern that was glimmering in Nancy’s eyes. When his eyes landed on you, though, his face became much more curious. He smiled at you and winked before turning his head back toward the direction that he was walking. You shot a confused look at the back of his head and then tossed the same look to Steve. What could he possibly see in you?

Steve pulled Nancy to his side and set his free hand gently on top of your head. “Billy Hargrove makes me feel… a lot.” You eyed Steve curiously, not fully knowing what he meant by that. You, he, Nancy, and Jonathan had had many late-night conversations about sexuality, but you were surprised that Steve would see Billy as his type. Not that you doubted Billy’s LGBT-ness; more that you were confused by Steve’s interest. You smiled a little bit. You knew that Steve had no intention of leaving Nancy for Billy, but it made you feel good that someone else was intrigued by Billy’s antics. 

“He makes me feel a lot too. I think he just is a lot,” you responded. Steve nodded. It wasn’t long before you all decided to make your way into school after that.

It would be a little while before you saw a softer side of Billy Hargrove. He was good at keeping up his attitude and appearance. He did start paying more attention to you after the day in the parking lot; flirting with you while you stood at your locker, saying hi to you as he walked past you to get to his seat in class, and eventually openly flirting with you while you sat at your lunch table– no matter if you were alone or with your odd friend group. You really didn’t mind this attention though. It was sort of nice to have a jock treat you with some kind of respect (other than Steve, of course). But, it was actually one of your teachers that caused the softer side of Billy to show. Your chemistry teacher was a bit of a stickler for the rules and she hated when people would talk in her class. This caused her to every so often change the seating assignments in her room. She ended up pairing you and Billy together at the back of the classroom. Your table was just the two of you and it was the very last one. It surprised you a little bit that she put Billy all the way in the back corner, but, to be fair, he wasn’t the biggest troublemaker in the class. That title would have to go to Tommy Hagan; who she did place at the first table, right in the front by her desk. She probably just wanted to keep them as separated as possible. Besides, it’s not like you minded. You were curious about him, after all. 

Being the only two members of your table for all the labs, meant that you two actually had to try pretty hard to keep up with the workload. Your teacher could see that you were both putting in the effort, so she did, at the end of the day, cut you some slack if you weren’t quite finished with something. Billy never complained about working on stuff; he genuinely seemed engaged with the activities and with you. As time went by, he became more open with you. He joked with you and continued to flirt. You began to look forward to your chemistry class and Billy started cutting his way into more of your daily school time. All of this was strongly disliked by Jonathan and Steve, but Nancy told them to keep it cool. She knew that if you needed help with Billy, you would come to them. Billy avoided hanging around you if you were with both Jonathan and Steve; he was just starting to like you and didn’t want to ruin that by pissing off your other friends. 

The year kept progressing and you kept working with Billy. You could tell that he wasn’t really settling into Hawkins, but you decided not to push the matter. To your surprise, the next time the teacher moved seats, she kept you and Billy together at the back of the room. He was trying to hide it, but you could tell he was smiling. 

He never let you come over to his house to do projects. He always insisted on working at your place or the library. Your parents were never really home and you liked the Hawkins library, so it was a problem for you. Though, it did cause you a pretty large amount of concern. As you continued to get closer, you met his step-sister Max. They seemed to have a pretty strained relationship, but they both seemed hesitant about going home. Your concern for them both only continued to grow. 

Concern often goes both ways, though. Billy was much more observant than he let on. He noticed that you weren’t always up to talking, your eyes were often heavy from lack of sleep, and you were a rather jumpy person overall. He also noticed how much his “friends” picked on you. Tommy Hagan, especially. It got to a point where if Billy heard Tommy saying something about you, he would death glare at the boy. Tommy was an asshole who wasn’t afraid of much, but he was definitely afraid of Billy’s wrath. Billy learned from Tommy’s relentless bullying that you had been through something, something really bad . Tommy said you had been missing at some point during the previous year and you returned to Hawkins high “more of a freak” than ever before. Billy had no idea what that meant, but he could tell by the state of your mental health most days that you had been through something truly horrifying. He didn’t know what to do or how to bring it up to you, so he just did his best to keep Tommy off of your back and waited to see if you would open up to him. 

You never expected things to get so bad that you would start sleeping at a friend's house. Much like Will; you had trips to the lab. You would go there and see the doctors for treatment. Nothing they did seemed to help much, but you held out hope. Your symptoms were keeping you from sleeping most of the time at this point, but you didn’t want to worry Joyce or Jonathan, or Will for that matter. This, is why you ended up getting help from Steve. 

Your parents, much like Steve’s, weren’t around much and didn’t ask too many questions about what was going on in your life. They had a house in place for you to live in while they traveled the world writing journal articles. They did care about you, they just trusted that you would be okay on your own. They started traveling without you around the age of 9 when they would have Joyce or the Wheeler family watch you. Now, they just assumed you could handle things on your own. After what happened to you last year, you were having trouble being alone. You knew Nancy’s family had a full house and you also had a strong disdain for Mrs. Wheeler, but that was another story. You didn’t want to go there, so you made a deal with Steve starting in October. You would basically move into one of the spare rooms at his house and if you needed reassurance that you were safe, he would always be just down the hall in his room. Your childhood home would serve more as a connection point for you and your family when they were in town; when they weren’t you would stay with Steve. You started carpooling together and Billy definitely noticed, though he didn’t say anything. Your study sessions still went on at your family home or Hawkins library, but your move didn’t go over without Billy realizing that something had changed. 

Since moving into Steve’s place, your mental health was better. Billy could tell that you were less foggy and were actually sleeping some nights. You had been open with him about your troubles with sleep, but you didn’t tell him why they improved. He didn’t learn anything about your stays at the lab or at Steve’s until he received a distressed phone call one night. “Billy… Hargrove, I need your help. It’s Y/n.” Steve’s voice made Billy’s skin crawl. He went from a dead sleep to running down to his car. 

Billy arrived to Steve’s house far more quickly than he should have. When Steve saw the headlights of the Camaro coming through the window, he was slightly concerned about how the Camaro had arrived, but that concern was soon tossed out of his mind. Steve ran to the door to meet Billy, who was about to knock on it. Billy didn’t know anything about the situation other than you were at Steve’s and you had locked yourself in the bathroom. “Where are they?”

“Upstairs bathroom, follow me.” Steve replied, “How much do you know about what happened last year?”

The two were making their way through the house at a quick rate, but Steve was still using the little time they had to gauge Billy’s knowledge. “I know there was something bad. They’ve never told me what happened. Other people speculate, though.”

“It’s not my place to tell you everything, but just know that whatever you’re picturing; it was worse. Y/n struggles really hard sometimes with feeling safe. Normally I can convince them and everything settles down pretty quickly, but tonight is different. Nothing I’ve tried has helped and they’ve been in the bathroom for like an hour now. I’m really worried. Nancy, Jonathan, and Hopper didn’t answer their phones so I called you. I didn’t know what else to do,” Steve explained. “It’s this door here.”

“Steve?” You asked. Billy’s heart shattered at the sound. Your voice was small— smaller than he had ever heard it before. He could hear the dryness from crying and how much you were struggling to breathe. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got someone else with me too. We’re worried about you, Y/n.”

Billy stepped up to the door and put his hand on the knob. He moved it around, but nothing much happened. Steve was right, you had locked yourself in. “Hey Doll. It’s Billy. Steve is so worried about you, he called me of all people… and now that I’m here; I’m pretty worried too.” He wiggled the knob again. He could feel his impatience crawling up his throat. It was like a spider was inching its way up from his stomach. He threw it back down by swallowing. “I’m gonna need you to open the door, Sweetheart.”

“Billy? You came?” Your tone was coated in surprise.

“Of course I did. You mean more to me than you fuckin know, Y/n.” He grimaced at his own vulnerability, but he needed to see you. He knew that he could bust down the door if absolutely necessary, but he wanted to avoid that. He didn’t know where you were inside of the bathroom and he didn’t want to risk hitting you. 

He felt the knob turn under his hand and he immediately popped the door open. He peered inside. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes for a moment as an automatic response to the sight. You were curled up against the wall, knees pulled up to your chest. It was clear you had just reached up and unlocked the door; you hadn’t moved. Your eyes were bloodshot and your cheeks were carved with rivers. Billy sucked in a deep breath and let himself into the bathroom entirely and got down on your level. He leaned his back against the bathroom counter opposite you. He didn’t know what the best thing to do was to help you; he didn’t know the source of your panic, but he did know the most important things were to make you feel safe and to ground you in reality. “I am right here, okay? I don’t know what happened to make you feel like this, but you are safe as long as you are with me or Steve. Neither of us would let anything bad happen to you.”

Without saying anything, another sob wracked your body before your launched yourself toward him. He was surprised by your suddenness, but he pulled you into his chest without hesitation. Your hands were clinging onto the fabric of his jean jacket; his hands were around your back and on your head respectively. Your face was buried in his chest and he felt every sob dampen his T-shirt. 

Steve pushed the door open entirely and sat himself down against the wall of the hallway. Billy could tell that he was exhausted, but relieved. Steve mouthed “thank you” to Billy. He gave him a curt nod before turning his attention back to you. He placed a small kiss on the top of your head. He told you to focus on the sound of his voice and he began to hum softly. 

After a few minutes of this, your sobs started to quiet down, until you weren’t sobbing at all. You were resting peacefully in Billy’s arms and Steve fell asleep against that wall in the hallway. 

Billy and Steve became a team after that night. They would take turns walking around with you during the day and made sure you always felt like you had someone to talk to. They both assured you that they loved you and that you were never too much for them. It made your heart swell and things got a little more stable in your life as the days passed. Billy wouldn’t admit it to himself, let alone to anyone else, but he was falling for you– hard. 

Max was the first to notice, followed by Nancy, Steve, and Dustin. There was just something in the way that he looked at you. His expression softened whenever he was around you and the second anyone tried to say something bad about you– he would raise holy hell. You never saw that part, but it was happening. You did notice how Tommy and Jason both had stopped harassing you, but you didn’t put together that it was Billy who had stopped them. Well, you didn’t put it together until the Halloween Party that is.

Jonathan convinced you to come to the party. You originally didn’t want to go because parties weren’t really your scene, but Jonathan asked you to come with him so he wouldn’t be alone. You knew how he felt about Nancy and he didn’t want to be her and Steve’s third wheel. You grimaced, but you did agree in the end. You went dressed as an elf; a costume you already had from your DnD days. You felt pretty good when you waved goodbye to Will and the other party members, but as you and Jonathan approached Tina’s house, you didn’t feel so good. Steve and Nancy waved to you as your car pulled up; every inch of space was taken up by someone; somehow it looked like there were even more people inside of the house. They peeled their way through the crowd and Steve pulled open your door. “Somehow you're more sparkly than when you left my place.”

You laughed a bit. Some of the tension left your shoulders as you remember what Billy said to you. You are safe as long as you are with me or Steve. Neither of us would let anything bad happen to you. Billy wasn’t always soft with you, but he was a safe space. Steve was consistently gentle and patient. “Really? I haven’t added anymore glitter.”

Steve helped you out of the car and walked with you into the grassy front yard. “You haven’t? Could have fooled me.”

“You look fantastic Y/n! You should help me do my costume next time,” Nancy squealed. 

You smiled brightly at her. “Thank you! And gladly.”

The air around you was abuzz with noise and high school life. It was overwhelming, but you were tucked into Jonathan’s side. Steve was on the other side of you and Nancy was in front of you. You did your best to focus on them and relax. Until Tommy cut in. “If it isn’t our fallen King Steve and his group of sorry peasants.” 

“Wow… How long did it take you to come up with that insult, Tommy? How old are we? Six?” Nancy fired back. Her comment made you laugh.

“What are you laughing at, L/n? You look like a Christmas elf threw up glitter glue.” 

You stopped laughing real quick. You knew you shouldn’t listen to anything Tommy had to say, but it was hard not to listen. You felt your eyes getting watery, but it all came to a halt when Tommy’s smirk was wiped off his face. Billy was seething. Everyone around you could see it. “What did I tell you about bothering Harrington and Y/n? That’s my job.” He grabbed Tommy by his collar and pulled him away from you. “Go bother somebody fucking else, Hagan,” Tommy grumbled something, but you didn’t bother listening. 

Billy’s shirt was almost completely unbuttoned and his skin was glinsing with sweat. You could tell that he was more than a little bit drunk, but the way his hair fell on his face was just so pretty . “You look stunning, Doll.” 

Jonathan backed away from you and so did Steve as Billy approached. He picked up one of your hands and planted a kiss on the top of it. His fingertips lingered on yours and he smirked at your flushed expression. “Thank you, Billy.” His frame towered over yours. He filled your entire view; you had no idea where any of your friends went, but honestly, you didn’t care at that moment. You felt so small at that moment, but for the first time in a while– that felt like a good thing. 

He placed his free hand on your cheek. “Don’t let anything he says bother you, Darlin’. I love your height and I know nothing about the dungeon game, but you are adorable as your character.”

You leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek; standing on the tips of your toes to do so, but he had other plans. He tilted his head so your lips collided with his. The progression felt so smooth and natural though, it didn’t matter. He pulled away almost as quickly as he did it, chuckling softly under his breath. “Sorry, shoulda asked before I did that.”

“Please do it again–”

His eyes flicked between yours and your lips. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

And so there you were; kissing Billy Hargrove, your surprising knight.

End <3

Forever Tags: @whoringrove @bilqis-of-sheba

[tenebrous-academic]

The way Billy was constantly brought up in Vol 2 and then never utilized in a meaningful way makes me so disappointed.

It would have been so easy to have Billy be in the upside down and stuck there since Starcourt Mall - there was an entire scene showing him met a clone of himself in Season 3, why was that never addressed? It would have made sense that the real Billy was locked away and the Upside Down Clone was the one walking around. Even his sacrifice at the end would still be in character - clearly a mental link was established so in that moment the real Billy took over and tried to save his sister and El.

Instead of Mike (a wet Pringle of a human being) talk to El and “inspire her” into fighting back, how ridiculously badass would it have been to have Billy burst in the door ready to kick ass and begin his redemption arc? There was literally so many moments that would have been the perfect foreshadowing. And yet they dropped the ball and let one of the most complex and heartbreaking characters of the show be reduced to nothing but his worst actions. He deserved so much better than being seen only through the lens of his little sister who had no real idea of what was happening in that house and how awful Neil was.

[faerieriddle]

The one where Billy decides fuck Neil and his hereditary anger issues and decides to actually be a big brother. Featuring Max whose very lost and confused and holy shit Billy just ripped a demodog apart with his bare hands?!

[lithium80writer]

The Fence (A Billy Hargrove Short Story)

Chapter one, Chapter two

Chapter three: Hope

⚠️This is a darker story. ⚠️ Billy Hargrove short story. This story will focus a lot on Billy's abuse from his father and Josephine's mental and sexual abuse from her stepfather. Can these two lost souls find sanctuary in each other? Trigger warnings ⚠️: Descriptions of sexual assault in first person and domestic abuse. Language. Thoughts of self harm and suicide. Disturbing topics. Smut. ⚠️ This story is not for everyone but more an emotional release for me. Thank you for reading. 🖤 Upside down doesn't exist. Max is not Billy's sister. It's just him and Neil.

******

Josephine's POV

Day one of the basement is always the worst. I have to adjust to losing my sense of sight, my sense of time. I sit against the cold, hard floor and stare into the nothingness. It's pitch black. I try to wave my hand in front of my face. Nothing. I can see nothing. The tiny window that used to give a light glow is now painted over.

He likes to take away anything that I love. Sunlight being one of them.

I bring my knees to my chest and place my chin against them. I wonder how long it'll be this time. He was angry to begin with but fighting back made him even angrier. After the first day of being down here, the rest all run together. I haven't been here in a long time.

I haven't missed it.

I'm hungry. He won't feed me for a few days. And when he does, it will be only enough to keep me alive. Welcome to the basement.

Billy's POV

"FUCK YOU!" I scream at the top of my lungs as I slide into the driver's seat of my car. I see my dad running down the steps of the porch and I sling the stick into the drive position. I press down on the pedal before he can reach me. And I'm gone. I roll my windows down and welcome the breeze flying in.

I scream. Again and again and again as I fly down the road. My eye is swollen shut this time. He really can't help himself this week. Must be problems with his latest lady. I drive down the street and wish I could keep driving and never stop. I've always thought about it. Just leaving and never coming back.

I'm a pretty tough guy. I can take a punch from anyone and not feel a thing. Anyone but him.

It's not the pain from his punches that bother me. Sometimes I don't even feel it anymore. It's the realization that he doesn't love me. The realization that I'm nothing but a punching bag to him.

He gets to take out all of his anger on me but what would he do if I returned the favor? I'm getting older now. Stronger. Sometimes I think I could take him.

I work out a lot. I've been trying to build my strength in case that day ever does come. I want to hurt him. Make him bleed. Watch as he begs me to stop. I want him to feel what I've had to endure for years.

But it wouldn't matter. He couldn't actually understand. It's not the same. I can kick his ass but he won't know how it feels to have the man who is supposed to love you completely destroy your childhood.

Who would I be if it wasn't for him? I think about that often. Would I be kinder? Less angry all the fucking time? Would I be happy?

I'll be 18 soon and I can't wait for that day. I can almost taste the freedom. Nothing but the sound of my car purring as I drive away from this hellhole. Away from him.

Would I miss him? Would he miss me? Yeah I know it's fucked up but he's my dad. He's all I know.

Maybe I can take Jo. Help her. Save her. That's crazy talk, Billy.

Was it my fault that she was MIA? Did I fuck up? I just wanted to see her. I need more information. Or maybe she just isn't interested, Billy. No. It has to be him. I can still see the sadness in her eyes.

What do I do? How can I help?

********

Josephine's POV

I run my finger along the line in the wall. Tracing it all the way down. I can barely stand but I have to keep moving. How long has it been? I'm starting to feel crazy. More crazy than usual.

I'll sing. Maybe that will help. My voice comes out hoarse. I need some water but my small cup is empty. I sing anyway.

"Wait a minute, baby. Stay with me a while. Said you'd give me light. But you never told me about the fire."

My usual sweet tone is scratchy and distorted. I've always loved to sing. Just for me. I love Stevie Nicks. She's my favorite. I listen to her again and again and she takes me to a different place.

Even though my voice is cracking and my throat is begging for relief I continue on.

"Drowning in the sea of love. Where everyone would love to drown. But now it's gone. It doesn't matter what for. When you build your house then call me home"

I trip over something and my knees fall hard to the concrete floor. I can't move. I can't pick myself up. I don't have the energy. He ruins everything. I curl into a ball and await the sound of the door creaking.

I can't wait to see the sun again. I can't wait to feel it. I miss my tree. And even though I've only seen him once, I miss Billy.

Billy's POV

A letter Billy? Really? I need to talk to her. Showing up on her doorstep was a mistake. I have to do this quietly. But how?

I dig through my backpack pulling out my composition notebook. What do I say? Will she even see it? She probably doesn't care. Maybe I'm fucking delusional. Maybe I imagined that look. Fuck.

I grab a pencil and tap it against the paper. I hate writing.

Hey.

Hey? Fuck... I tear the paper from the notebook, crumbling it quickly. This is stupid. I quickly write a few lines and fold it up.

Short and simple.

Now how do I get it to her? What if he finds it? Think, Billy.

A book. The tree. I saw her there before. It's worth a shot.

I don't own any books. Playboys? Hustlers? Sure.  But not exactly the look I'm going for.

I remember an old box my dad has full of books he's never touched. He won't miss it. I pick one and smile. Romeo and Juliet.

Cheesy? Absolutely.

I stick the letter inside and head for the back door. I take a peek through the small hole in the fence. No one. I carefully drop the book by the tree. I hope she gets it.

"William!" I hear him. But the fear is less than usual. I feel a little excitement. A little anticipation. A little hope.

Josephine's POV

"Josephine." I wake to his voice. My heart starts pounding. I can't see him but I can smell him. "Have you learned your lesson?" the monster says. I hate you. "Yes, father." I say instead. I hear the metal screech as he screws in the lightbulb.

My eyes burn as the light floods my vision. I feel dizzy and lightheaded. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. I have to adjust slowly. My senses are on overdrive.

He pulls me from the ground and I have to lean into him to make it up the stairs. It makes me want to cry. But I have no tears left after my time down here.

My feet feel heavy as I make it up the stairs. More light. Sounds. It's been so quiet. I'm overwhelmed. Overstimulated. "Bath." I croak. He leads me to my room and lets me go. I fall to the floor and hear my door shut behind me.

********

It's been two days since I was set free from the basement. Today is outside day. I hope he lets me go. I need the sun.

"Thirty minutes. And I'll be watching." he appears in my doorway. I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face. My eyes begin to water and I jump up quickly.

I run to my spot. My tree. A book? This isn't mine. I see a sliver of white sticking out of the top. I take the book and rest against the tree. I open it slowly and see my name scrawled across the folded paper.

My mind is swirling with thoughts as I open it as carefully as possible making sure to shield it behind the book.

Dear Jo,

I haven't seen you around recently. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I tried to come see you. Just to say hi. My lip is healed now. Replaced with a black eye but hey.. one thing at a time, right? Please let me know you're okay.

Your friend from the other side of the fence, Billy

I want to write back immediately but I have to wait. I do my best to hide my expression. I feel something in my chest. Something I've never felt before. Hope.

********

Dear Billy,

I was happy to get your letter. I'm sorry for disappearing. I am okay. Is your eye better? I hope so. Your letter caught me by surprise. It made me feel happy. I don't feel that a lot. So, thank you. Write back soon.

Your friend from the other side of the fence, Josephine.

****

Dear Jo,

My eye is fine. I'm a big boy. Are you sure you are okay? I was worried about you. Is this okay? The letters. I like hearing from you.

Your friend, Billy

****

Dear Billy,

Define okay. I will survive. I'm a big girl. I like hearing from you, too. The letters are okay. We just have to be careful. My father is.. strict.

Your friend, Jo

**** Dear Josephine,

What is strict? Does he hurt you? Is he like my dad? Your eyes looked sad but they were beautiful. I wish I could see them again.

Billy

****

Billy,

Sometimes he hurts me. But you can't tell anyone. Please. You have the prettiest eyes and I think about them often. They remind me of an ocean. I've never seen the ocean.

Your friend, Josephine

****

I want to help you. Billy

****

I want to see you. Jo

****

Today was bad. Will write more soon. Always thinking about you. Billy

****

I can't take it, Billy. Do you ever feel like you can't take it anymore? Josephine

**** Talk to me sweetheart. What happened? Your Billy

**** I need to see you. Your Josephine

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 22: Help

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 23 (Coming Soon)...

AN: SURPRISE! Word Count: 3,744 Warnings: Language, suggestive comments

You stand for a moment longer, watching Billy’s car disappear around the corner. After a beat of silence, you notice how close you are standing to Steve, heat radiating off of him into your back, his hand still firmly wrapped around your bicep. Your eyes dart down to his hand, drawing his attention to your proximity as well. He lets go, offering you a small smile. You think you see a dusting of pink in the tips of his ears peeking out from his wet hair. He must be freezing. 

“Thanks.” you say, returning his smile as you take a step towards his car. Trying not to pay attention to how cold it feels when you step away from him.

“No problem.” Steve says, following you. 

After a short pause Steve speaks up again.

“Did he uh- say anything to you?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck, keeping his gaze down as he pulls out his keys. 

“No.” you answer. You’re not sure why you don’t tell Steve about what Billy says to you, but it’s something you want to keep to yourself. Standing at the passenger door, you wait for Steve to unlock the doors. Steve opens his door and quickly leans over the console to unlock yours. You rush to climb in, the cold already chasing away any warmth you had moments before. 

“I think you should stay away from him.” Steve says, keeping his eyes forward as he starts the car. You gap at him for a moment, unsure what to say. “He’s dangerous.” He adds, finally looking at you. You can see the worry in his gaze, the tension in his shoulders. This isn’t the first time Steve has warned you about Billy, and you know he’s right. You rub your hands together, trying to chase away the cold.

“I know.” you say simply. Steve’s eyes catch on your hands, a bit of the tension leaves him as he turns on the heater and leans forward taking your hands in his. 

“Here, put your hands close to the vent.” he instructs, guiding your hands closer to the heat. He cups his hands around yours to generate more warmth. 

“Thanks.” you say, unable to stop the smile that pulls at your lips with his mothering. Noticing your smile Steve let’s go of your hands, clearing his throat.

“I’ll start leaving the door unlocked for you.” Steve says, pulling out of the spot.

“How kind of you… considering it’s the middle of December.” you snip back. Steve rolls his eyes, his own smile emerging. 

“You’re lucky I don’t make you walk, babysitter.” she shoots back. 

“Are you kidding? You wouldn’t last 2 minutes without me.” you challenge. Steve scoffs.

“You’re delusional. What do you think I do when you’re not here?” He asks, clearly struggling to hold back his smile.

“Wait for me to get back, obviously.” you say matter of factly. A barking laugh escapes Steve, causing you to laugh as well. You’re thankful that the conversation had shifted away from Billy. Steve is your closest friend, and you don’t want him worrying about you like that. 

Steve talks about practice as he drives towards your house. You recall what Nancy said about asking Steve for help with history as he pulls into his usual spot on the street in front of your house. 

“Hey Steve, can I ask you something?” You begin.

“Yes, you can use the shampoo I bring over.” He answers smirking as he reaches into the back to grab his bag.

“Not that.” You chuckle, slapping his shoulder.

“Alright, what is it actually?” He asks moving to climb out of the car. You move to follow, swallowing past your rising embarrassment. 

“Do you think you could help me with history?” You ask as the two of you make your way up the driveway. Steve stops, turning to look at you fully, his eyes bright. 

“Sure! I love history!” He gushes. Relief washes through you. Not only at his enthusiasm to help but also the lack of judgment in his gaze. 

The two of you enter the house and quickly get set up at the kitchen table. You do your best to stay quiet, not wanting to wake your mom before her alarm. 

“So, we are covering the Great Depression right now.” you explain, opening your textbook between you so he can see the pages as well.

“Cool.” He says, still smiling brightly. “Did you know that the first political office Hoover held was the presidency?” He explains, not even glancing at the book spread between you. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t really know how to handle a country wide job shortage,” he adds. “Oh! And did you know that …” 

You quickly learn that Steve's interest in history is largely recreational. You don't gain much from his interesting facts and trivia he seems to be able to rattle off. You have little hope that any of the information you have gained will aid you in the upcoming exam. 

After about an hour, you thank Steve for his help and usher him out of the house before your mom gets up. 

Instead of focusing on your dwindling options, you get started on dinner. The failed quiz still tucked away in your back pocket. You weigh your choices as you mix together the ingredients for your grandma’s spaghetti sauce, it’s one of your favorite dishes and making it is almost therapeutic. 

You could hire a tutor, you have a little bit of money saved up now. It would almost certainly demolish your college fund though. Billy’s offer flashes through your mind. 

No. That is definitely a bad idea. He has to have some hidden agenda, why else would he offer to help? Plus you’re fairly certain Steve would have a heart attack if you start spending time with Billy, no matter the circumstances. 

“Good morning, Kiddo.” Your mom greets you, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she enters the kitchen. “More like ‘Good night’, right?” she asks, chuckling lightly at her own joke. Coming around the counter she grabs a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Mom.” you say, offering her your best attempt at a smile. Taking her coffee back to the counter she takes a seat across from you, blowing gently on the steaming liquid. 

“Was that Steve I heard earlier?” She asks, keeping her eyes on you as she takes a tentative sip of her coffee.

“Yea, he came over to study.” you tell her, grabbing a rag from below the sink to start wiping down the kitchen.

“You too have been spending a lot of time together.” She says, hiding a knowing smile behind her mug. 

“Mom.” you warn, rolling your eyes. She only chuckles at your exasperation.

“It’s just too easy to tease you honey.” She says, taking another sip. “How are your classes going? Any A’s to report?” She asks casually. You know she is only curious, but it stings anyway. You turn away, taking a pile of dishes to the sink.

“School’s good.” you reply simply. You can feel her eyes on your back as you dip the dishes into the lukewarm soapy water filling the sink. There is pause, you know she’s reading your body language. It’s a skill you inherited from her but sometimes you wish she was a little less observant. 

“Are you doing okay?” She asks gently. It’s a loaded question, and you know it. It’s been a long year, and you can feel her thoughts turning to where you were this summer. 

“I’m good.”  you say, trying to relax your features enough to give her a convincing smile over your shoulder. She’s watching you carefully, lowering her coffee.

“You sure there’s nothing I can help with?” She asks, clearly not convinced. You shake your head, turning back to the dishes. There is no way you can tell her about your grades, or ask her for a tutor. She already works so much and that’s barely enough for the two of you.

“I said I’m okay, mom.” you say firmly, scrubbing harder at a particularly stubborn splash of pasta sauce. Glancing up at the clock above the sink, you sigh. “You had better hurry though.” you say nodding toward the clock. “Looks like you’re running behind.” 

Her eyes widen, looking at her own watch.

“Damn!” She curses, standing quickly from her seat. “You’d think at my age I would have developed some form of time management.” She clicks her tongue, grabbing her nursing bag from the table. You see her cast a disappointed glance at her half finished coffee. “And I didn’t even finish-'' You set her lunch in front of her as well as a travel thermos of coffee. 

Her face softens, filling with gratitude and love. 

“What would I do without you?” She gushes, taking both and stowing them in her bag. 

“I don’t know, probably starve.” you tease. You groan as she pulls you into a tight hug placing a kiss on your cheek. As she pulls away she hesitates, her eyes searching your face. You see the worry in her eyes, the thought alone causes your heart to constrict.

“I love you, kiddo. Just…” she pauses, cupping your cheek gently with her palm. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help.” she says, keeping her eyes on yours. Shame washes through you at her words.

“I know mom.” you respond reflexively. “You’re going to be late.” you remind her. Smiling, she pats your cheek before rushing out the door. 

You watch her pull out of the driveway, waving goodbye as she disappears down the street. You pause, standing on your porch. Taking a deep breath in, the cold air stings your lungs. Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out your quiz. Unfolding it, you glare down at the damning red ink. 

You need help.

Turning on your heel, you walk quickly back into the house. Half a plan forming in your mind as you pack a container of food. Shoving the leftovers into your bag, along with the quiz, you grab your coat and start walking. 

---

You reach Cherry Lane a quarter after seven. The sun had disappeared shortly after you started walking. The only light illuminating your path are the intermittent street lamps. 

You don’t really have a plan, just a general direction and a desperate need. 

You need help with U.S History. That much is obvious. Nancy is too technical, Steve’s not technical enough, and paying for an actual tutor is the last thing you want to do. 

Billy offered to help… for nothing. As much as you hate the idea of asking him for help… he’s your best bet. 

“4819.” you read the numbers on the mailbox as you slowly approach the house. There are two cars in the driveway, one of them is Billy’s camaro the other is the Hargrove’s family car. There are lights on inside the house, but the porch light is off. Your stomach twists thinking of the last time you stood on those steps. You have no intention of interacting with Niel Hargrove anytime soon. 

Scanning the area, you quickly form a plan. All you need to do is talk to Billy for a minute, no need to disturb the whole family. 

Sticking to the shadows, you move around to the back of the house. There is a small yard with patches of dead grass illuminated by the light shining from the windows. Staying low, you hug close to the house, crouching beneath the first window. You poke your head up just enough to see into the back of the kitchen. You can see Neil, Max, and Susan at the dinner table, everyone's attention on the TV in the living room. No Billy though. Marking that as strange, you crouch back down to move to the next window. 

Unfortunately, the next window you come to is too high for you to see into. Glancing around you spot a plastic crate propped against the paneling. Doing your best to stay quiet, you position the crate under the window and place one foot on it, testing to be sure the plastic can hold your weight. Stepping fully onto it you can see into the room. 

This room is clearly Billy’s. There are band posters on the walls, clothes littered over the floor and a stereo on the dresser next to more tapes than you can count. Looking around you can see Billy laying on his bed, flipping through a magazine. Checking one more time that his bedroom door is closed, you take a deep breath. 

A small voice in the back of your mind screams that this is insane, it sounds strangely like Steve. Ignoring that part of yourself, you quietly rap your knuckles against the glass. Billy immediately sits up, looking around for the source of the sound. When he doesn't notice you at the window you gently knock again. 

His eyes cut to you and he looks startled seeing you there. Recovering from the shock, he glances to his door before getting off the bed and coming closer. You see his mouth move, mumbling what you can only assume is something along the lines of “Fucking crazy ass…” before he flicks the lock on the window, sliding it open.

“You scared the shit out of me, loca!” he scolds you. But you can see the amusement mixed into his annoyed expression. 

“Sorry.” You apologize, the embarrassment radiating to your face. “I need to talk to you.” you explain. His eyes search yours and you have to look away, you feel yourself shaking, more from your nerves but the cold isn’t helping any.

Billy sighs, running a hand through his curls. He glances over his shoulder to the door again, before looking back to you. 

“Well, there’s no use in you freezing your ass off outside.” he grumbles. Before you can protest, Billy leans down and grabs your arms firmly, hauling you up through the window. You do your best to suppress the yelp of surprise that comes from you as you scramble into the room. You ungracefully fall to the floor, banging your knee on Billy’s dresser. 

“Ouch!” you hiss, instinctively cradling your knee. “You could really be more-” your complaint is silenced by Billy’s hand over your mouth.

“Shhh!” he hisses in your ear, kneeling tensely next to you on the floor. His eyes are trained on the door. There is a beat of silence. You can hear the faint sound of the TV from the living room, and the scrape of silverware on plates. When it’s clear that no one is coming, you feel Billy release a breath, removing his hand.

“Thought I heard something.” he says, moving to sit with his back against the wall. You rub your aching knee as you watch him snag a pack of cigarettes from his night stand. Placing one between his lips, you think you see his hand shake as he lights it, inhaling deeply. The next inhale his eyes return to you, still sitting on the floor in front of him. 

“What is it you want?” he asks pointedly. “Or did you sneak into my bedroom just to look at me?” He asks lifting a brow suggestively. Your nerves ease slightly at the sight of his familiar smirk. 

“Right.” you say, reminding yourself of the whole reason you came to him in the first place. Struggling off your backpack you pull out the container of pasta and your quiz. “I came here to bribe you.” you explain offering the container to him. 

“What?” He asks, looking between you and your extended offering. 

“Listen, I really need help in history.” you blurt out. “I can’t afford to pay you, but I’m a pretty good cook and I can bake too.” you explain. Billy’s eyes remain fixed on yours, a strange mix of confusion and what you think is shock. The container of food suddenly feels heavy in the air between you. Billy doesn't say anything for a moment and you can feel the embarrassment and panic begin to creep up your throat. Your heart sinks at his apparent rejection. It was a long shot, but at least you tried.

Sighing, you set the container on the carpet between you and start to zip up your bag. 

“Sorry about scaring you.” you say, moving to stand. “I’ll just-”

“Can you make meatloaf?” Billy asks suddenly, cutting you off. You watch him with wide eyes as he leans forward taking the container and popping the top open the peer at the contents. 

“Yea, I can make meatloaf.” you tell him, a small smile pulling at your lips. Billy nods, placing his cigarette in the ashtray. 

“Good.” he says, extending his hand. “I’ll help you.” You can’t stop the side smile from your lips at his words. 

“Thank you!” You exclaim, taking his hand and shaking it enthusiastically. 

“Alright, alright, calm down crazy.” He grumbles, but you’re certain you see a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I owe you anyway.” He adds, dropping your hand. Before you can ask him what he means, he stands, taking whe food with him to sit on the bed. “When do you want to start?” He asks, taking the lid off the container fully and poking at the contents with his finger.

“As soon as possible. The midterm is on Friday so that only gives us-”

“5 days!?” Billy asks in disbelief. “You’re telling me I have to cover 6 weeks of material in 5 days?” He clarifies. You swallow, nodding as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Well 4 days if you don’t count today.” you clarify. Billy’s eyes narrow on you in a glare. 

“The day’s not over yet loca. When we start is no longer up to you.” He informs you. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, watching as he begins eating with his fingers.

“I mean,” he begins, speaking around a mouthful of pasta. “We start now.” he says. “Grab the history book off the desk.” he instructs, taking another bite. 

You gap at him for a moment, still reeling from the fact that you are now officially being tutored by Billy Hargrove. 

Billy rolls his eyes.

“If you don’t start listening to me I’m going to throw your crazy ass back out that window and you can find some other sucker to teach you.” he says, waving a sauce-covered digit in your direction.

“Right.” you say, unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his antics. You grab the textbook from his desk and turn, catching sight of the stack of flashcards you had made with Nancy. “Oh, that reminds me, I already made a couple flashcards so we can-” Billy scoffs.

“Flashcards?” he shakes his head. “We aren’t going to train you like some seal. You’re going to actually LEARN the material, not just memorize trivia.” he explains, shoveling another finger full of food into his mouth. 

“I’m not really sure how we are going to do that.” you say, looking down at the book in your hands. “I don’t know what it is, but history just doesn't stick in my head.” you admit feeling the slight sting in admitting that fact out loud.

“Everyone has their thing.” Billy says, scooting back to give you space to sit on the bed. You hesitate looking at the small space next to him on the twin bed. Seeing your hesitance Billy scoffs again. “Calm down Loca, I won’t bite. Until you ask me to.” he says, giving you a flirty wink. The shameless come-on actually makes you chuckle, your nerves settling. 

“Don’t hold your breath.” you respond, moving up the bed to sit next to him. Folding your legs under you, you open the textbook to the correct section. 

“You like to write, right? Like stories and stuff?” Billy asks. Your brows draw together in confusion.

“Yea?” you confirm, not sure where he is going with this. 

“We all have subjects we are stronger in, it’s just the way our brains work. I think you are thinking about history the wrong way. If you want to actually learn it you have to convert it into something that makes sense to you. If you’re good at writing stories, we need to frame history like a story, so it sticks in your head.” Billy explains. You’re actually stunned by the analysis. Not only is it possible, it’s even more shocking to have come from Billy. All you can do is stare at him for a moment. 

His eyes are on the food he’s nearly devoured. He scoops the last remaining bits of pasta into his mouth, running his finger through the sauce at the bottom of the container, popping it in his mouth and licking it clean. He closes his eyes for a moment at the taste. You study the column of his throat. His adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. You can see the slight stubble along his jaw that has grown throughout the day. His tongue slides along his bottom lip, searching for any remaining sauce. Your stomach twists.

“What are you looking at?” Billy’s voice startles you. Looking back up, his eyes are on you.

“Uh-” you stammer, looking away, at anything other than his blue eyes. You can’t seem to think of an excuse. “I was just looking at-” you swallow thickly, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“What you should be looking at is Chapter 27.” Billy snaps.

“Right.” you say, flipping to the correct chapter. Your embarrassment grows as you hear him huff a light laugh.

“Unless you want to study something else.” he teases, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” you grumble focusing on the textbook. “You just have sauce on your face.” you lie. You feel Billy reach up to swipe at his face to get the invisible sauce in question. You would laugh but as you read over the first paragraph of the section, your stomach sinks. 

This is insane. There is too much. There is no way-

“Alright, let’s talk about one of the lowest points in American history.” Billy begins, setting the now empty container aside. “In order to understand the Great Depression you need to see the rise that came before the fall.” he continues, sitting up. His knee bumps against yours as he pulls the textbook to sit between you.

AN: I hope you guys like this and I hope it was worth the wait. You'll hear from me soon :)

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[usaqaix]

things that billy antis say to me as if i hear it for the first time

1. "billy's racist" first of all nah he wasn't and if you watched the show with your eyes and not ass you'd saw it. second of all fuck you

2. "you're only attracted to him cuz he's yt and attractive" first of all no, i relate to him throughout his trauma that very much reflects mine. second of all wanting your back blown by this man is very reasonable and valid so, fuck you

3. "real domestic abuse survivors don't act like that and he deserved everything that happened to him" first of all:

second of all it's the literal child that you talk about and if you really believe that im very sorry for your future kids. good luck condoning neil hargrove's behaviour 🥰

in conclusion: antis can go fuck themselves thanks for coming to my ted talk

[bidarcywriter]

[alice-the-brave]

“I don’t know,” she hums, licking at a stray drop of melted ice cream running down her hand, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it seems like you want to see Steve.”

He pauses, bottle halfway to his lips, still staring down the road. He turns slowly, stares at the side of her head where she’s intent on her ice cream, innocent and unbothered. Pretending she didn’t say something that even just a few months ago would have turned this all ugly. Still might.

            “Good thing you do know better,” he says, voice low and warning.

She frowns at her ice cream, glances up at him, something defiant and stubborn in her eyes.

            “You’re allowed to be friends with him, you know.”

He flinches at the weight of her gaze, at the knowing look in her eyes.

It had been her fault they’d moved. Because Dad hadn’t liked her dad being so close. Hadn’t liked another man having any kind of claim on his wife, or his daughter. But also because Max had always been too smart. Had always seen Billy a little too clearly. She had looked at him, and the people he hung around, the company he kept and had asked questions. Had asked Susan. Susan, who as always, had asked his Dad.

Neil Hargrove hadn’t ever made a habit of asking Billy anything.

            “I don’t need you to tell me what I’m allowed,” He spits, slamming the bottle down on the roof of the car hard enough that she jumps, eyes wide and surprised, as if she’d forgotten what he was like, “You need to learn to mind your fucking business or I swear to God, Max, you’re going to regret it.”

            “You think I don’t?”

That draws him up short.

            “What?”

            “You think I don’t know that half the reason your dad moved us out here was because of what I said?” She aska, crunching the ice cream in her hand into sad, wet crumbs on the gravel. “I didn’t think – I mean. I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know he’d – that he’d do that. Any of it.”

She doesn’t look at him as she says it, turns to frown at the gravel below them, like the dirt can hide the way she looks afraid.

It had been the first time Max had really seen how bad his Dad could be. She’d seen him scold Billy before, seen him threaten things, seen him slap him upside the head or push him around. But until then he’d been careful to never really let her see how bad it could get.

But that night, Max had seen it all. That night, Neil had been so incensed by the very idea of what she had inadvertently implied about his son, that he’d forgotten to pretend to be a decent fucking person.

Billy remembers, vaguely, hearing her crying, hearing her yelling something, and Susan dragging her away. He remembers her face in the waiting room of the hospital, the pale, wide-eyed look she’d given him. The way she flinched away from not only Neil but Susan too.

            “I didn’t think mom would say anything to him about it,” she says, fists clenching in her pasty freckled lap, “I didn’t think she’d let him do it.”

He stares at her for a moment. Tries to think past the rushing of his blood, the immediate anger in his gut.

            “Which part?” He asks, and she turns to him quickly, brow furrowed. “You didn’t think she’d let him do which part?”

            “I didn’t think-” she stalls out, looks away, clenches her sticky hands on her thighs. “I didn’t think she’d let him hurt you like that.”

He stares at her, baffled.

It had never occurred to him that Susan might try to stop him.

She tried to diffuse things, sure, tried to head off arguments before they got past stern words and threats, but Billy had always thought she just wanted to avoid the ordeal of it all. Thought that she was scared of breaking her façade of peace.  

He had never expected her to really step in. He’d only ever wondered at her staunch witness to it all. Her refusal to walk away, even as she stood in the corner like a pale-faced wraith, unmoving unless it was to get Maxine out of the room. 

He'd never expected her to step between Billy and his Dad, never expected her to speak against a single thing that he decided to do. 

Neil Hargrove got what he wanted, always. 

But for the first time it occurs to him what that must have looked like to Max. 

Billy’s Mom was the only good thing he’d ever had in this life. She’d tried to defend him from his Dad, tried to stand against him. She’d bit and spit and screamed and hadn’t let him get away with it, not without a fight.  

She’d been his only defense. Right up until the day she left. 

Max had Susan, who had been her confidant, her safe place. He remembers the way Max used to hide behind her when Neil came around, remembers the way she would tug at her hand and whisper.  

He doesn’t remember when she stopped. 

Can’t pinpoint the day she realized her mother wasn’t safe. That she wouldn’t protect her from Neil, wouldn’t keep her secrets, wouldn’t fight for her. Susan never bit back, she never screamed in defiance. She never shielded Max with her own body, never told a soul what happened behind closed doors. She had thrown away both of their lives and torn Max away from the only people who could have saved her from the prison they all lived in. 

Which is worse, he wonders, staring at her glassy blue eyes, tears all dried up. Which is worse, really, being abandoned and left to the wolves, or being abandoned and having her stick around to watch you die? 

He at least could pretend that his Mom might come back for him, that she was bidding her time, that she hurt as much as he did. When he was small and angry and terrified he could pretend that she had made a mistake, that she hadn’t meant it. 

Max had to stare Susan in the face every day and reckon with her betrayal. She didn’t get to pretend.  

“You never think,” he says, turning away, staring up at the cliffs again. 

The birds are loud here, the forest alive in a way that belies the ominous air it exudes at night. Here, in the sun and the chirping of birds, the rustling trees and animals seem serene. It’s enough to make the midnight gloom of it seem like a dream. Enough to make the memory of Harrington standing in the shadows holding a bat caked in dried blood seem false, imagined. Enough to make the memory of Maxine, trembling and fierce and drowned in the blood of his Father seem like a hallucination. Like the strange, dark dreams he has on fever nights, when the sickness and the broken bones stir dark things in his sleeping mind. Impossible things. Things that make him shake and shiver with fear, with horror. It doesn’t seem possible. Seems like a nightmare. She’s getting sunburnt, sitting there on his car, hair up in a scrunchy, wearing his sunglasses. Her hands are sticky with ice cream. Little girl hands. Like they ought to be. 

“Sorry.” She clenches her hands in her lap, fiddles with the hem of her shorts. 

He stares at her for another moment. Breathes. Thinks. Doesn’t let himself spit and snarl, though the urge to is choking him.  

How many times are they going to do this? Wander in circles, biting and snapping and begging for forgiveness, back and forth, forever. He thinks it might drive him crazy. That they can’t just get past it all, that even though his Dad is gone – even though they aren’t going to have to step on each other just to breathe the clean air anymore – there’s still so much rot between them. He wonders why she bothers. Thinks, maybe, that she won’t leave, no matter how vicious he is, just because she’s just as bad. Just because she’s never known when to drop it. Never thought anything through. 

Mad Max, the daredevil, fearless and headstrong and going nowhere fast. 

“Put on your sunscreen,” he says, instead of any of that, reaching into the passenger seat through the open window and tossing the bottle at her. 

She catches it clumsily and tosses back the bitchiest look a fourteen-year-old can muster. 

“You sound like Steve,” she sneers, not as harsh as she usually might.  

Like she’s still testing the waters. 

He snorts and snatches his sunglasses off her face, slipping them on and leaning back against the car as if he’d never gone tense in the first place. 

“Fine, get burnt for all I care, just don’t bitch at me about it later.” 

She huffs and rolls her eyes, but she opens the tube without a word and he can see the edge of a smile on her face even though he isn’t looking. 

[ellewritesandrants]

Let’s be honest. The reason why Joyce and Jonathan don’t interact with Billy in the series is because they would clock his abuse the second they talked to him and the reason why Hopper has an intense dislike of Billy is because he used to be just like Billy and he hates the reminder of it. I like to think that in another universe, Jonathan befriends Billy before he becomes popular and Joyce realizes what’s going on when Jonathan invites him for dinner. She gives him the first motherly hug he’s gotten since his mom left him and she tells him that she’ll handle it. She then proceeds to ream Hopper out because he promised her that he wouldn’t let any more abusers slip through the cracks when he became Sheriff and he deals with Neil before properly combing Hawkins out for other abusers and getting rid of them.

Billy’s practically adopted by Joyce and he helps them realize that Will is acting weird thus preventing the trap from being set. Imagine Jonathan bringing Billy along with him whenever he went anywhere with Nancy and Billy being hated by Nancy since he took her place as top student in their year which infuriates her endlessly. They tell him all about the Upside Down and he helps the team at the lab with keeping everyone alive. He is extremely surprised to see Max with the other kids and while they fight, it’s only because they care about each other. Billy doesn’t meet Steve Harrington properly until that night and he doesn’t get how everything is connected until Jonathan tells him what happened and he laughs at the image of Steve being beaten in a fight by Jonathan before helping them with a monster called the Demogorgon. He’s a lot more chill with Jonathan’s influence so it’ll be so fun for him to literally whale on the demodogs as a form of anger management. He also doesn’t really dislike the kids since he knows for a fact that they’re Will’s friends so they must be somewhat okay since Will was okay.

Unsurprisingly, Billy and El get along like a house on fire after everything that happened which forces Hopper to change his opinion on Billy rather quickly. With either Billy or Max taking up her time, she doesn’t have time for Mike who the siblings both dislike. Billy and Max convince her that she could do better and much to Hopper’s delight, dumps his ass. Billy’s also a lot more comfortable talking to Joyce about what he went through so when the middle-aged mom brigade starts staring at him for too long, practically objectifying him, he’s willing to tell Joyce who tears into them with fervor. The kids spend equal amounts of time bothering Billy at the pool and begging Steve for free samples which Billy complains about to Jonathan who tells him that he signed up for it so he needs to just deal with it.

The events of season 3 still happen with the mindflayer but weirdly enough, it’s with Tommy and Carol who were heading to the motel to have some fun. They immediately target Steve when coming back and he realizes that the mind flayer has Tommy pretty fast and he gets El to take care of it with Billy’s help in holding Carol back without killing her. Later on, Billy helps Steve with the Russians too and he manages to distract the guards well enough for them to escape untortured so they could get back up in the form of Hopper and El.

Weirdly enough, Steve starts to see Billy in a new light while Jonathan has been slowly falling for his new best friend for a while now. Billy’s had crushes on both boys at different times but he’s pretty sure they’re both straight and into Nancy so he doesn’t bother. Cue The Byer-Hoppers deciding to move to California for a new start and Jonathan inviting Billy to come with them with the promise of bringing Max and Susan too if he wanted. Steve tries to convince him to stay. Billy doesn’t know how to choose between the temptation of freedom and a newfound familiarity.