#billy hargrove rot

[plistommy]

Eddie loves taking long walks during chilly autumn nights.

One of his favorite places to walk is Lover’s Lake. The quietness of the forest and the fog coming from the lake are the rare few things that he enjoys. That makes him calm.

But Lover’s Lake is not a place to come during the spring or summer if you want to be alone. It’s full of drunk screaming teenagers with their little parties and get-togethers with their so-called ’best friends’ that they’re gonna leave once they go to college.

Eddie didn’t give a shit about any of that.

Sure, he went to parties, couple of times, but even when he still wasn’t called Eddie ’The Freak’ Munson, no one cared about him. They still thought he was weird, unfitting. Maybe it was the clothes he wore or the buzzcut, but Eddie always knew even if he looked like them, he would never be accepted.

After that, he just stopped caring at all. He kept to himself and went on these stupid little walks that actually ended up making him somehow feel better.

He’d usually take a couple beers with him so he could sit on his favorite spot, a rock right next to the lake where he sometimes dips his feet even if it’s freezing.

That was the plan for tonight as well.

Eddie was about to arrive at his usual spot, smoking his third cigarette when he spotted something unusual.

A car. And not just any car. Billy’s Hargrove’s blue fucking camaro that the guy drives around like a damn maniac.

Eddie let out a frustrated sigh.

No way Billy had brought some girl here to fuck with. Out of everywhere, to Eddie’s spot.

This was just his fucking luck. Of course Billy out of everyone would choose this place just to fuck with him.

Sure… the other man didn’t know this was his spot, but fuck did it still annoy Eddie. Now he had to leave and forget his relaxing night just because Billy Hargrove wanted to get his dick wet with some random girl.

Eddie dropped his finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, cracking his neck a little before turning around and starting to walk off.

But then he heard it. A little muffled, but still clear.

”Stop fucking around, Harrington. No one’s gonna find us.”

Eddie quickly turned back around and tried to think if what he had just heard was right.

”Harrington?” He whispered.

”Ah, but— but someone could be taking a w-walk or something. I can’t be too lou- FUCK!”

”Sorry, Pretty Boy.”

Eddie heard deep laughing after that. And he knew whose it was.

It was Billy Hargrove’s.

A knot was forming in his stomach. He didn’t want to think what he was thinking, but something in Eddie knew he had to go and look, just in case. He had to know what was going on, even if it was wrong.

So, he took a small step. Careful not to stupidly step on a branch and expose himself slowly walking to the clearing from the forest walls.

He walked closer to the camaro, slowly creeping next to it, the sounds becoming louder and louder of the other two as he finally made it.

Eddie heard deep moans and grunts. A noise of something hitting something repeatedly and a small but clear sound of the radio playing from the camaros open window.

Eddie cursed at himself a couple of times before building the courage to slowly peek from behind the camaro.

He felt his heart skip a beat when he finally saw the source of the ongoing noises and who were the people making them.

There they were.

Billy Hargrove on his back on top of a raggy looking blanket with… Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington who was riding the other man, head thrown back and making loud little ah ah ah’s with every hard thrust Billy was meeting him with.

The blond man looked smitten by the other. Moving his hands up and down Steve’s waist, thighs, ass that Eddie only had the side view of. He sometimes even pinched the other’s nipples that had gotten hard from the cold weather.

Billy was saying something to Steve, something that made the brunette laugh before letting out a moan again when he moved his hips just right.

Eddie could swear he had somehow died, because this couldn’t be real.

The whole view was out of a dirty porn he had once watched that he stole from his dealer's house. Something to do with the bad boy fucking the town’s good girl or some cliché like that. But that shit never actually happens.

Eddie had to pinch himself to try and wake the hell up, but nothing happened. Here he still was, dumbfoundedly staring as Billy pushed Steve down and quickly put himself between the other’s thighs.

Eddie knew the moment he pushed his cock back inside Steve because that’s when the brunette whined loudly and started to beg for more.

And shit… did Hargrove go fucking fast.

When the moans got more obscene and when he finally saw the other two kiss, that’s when Eddie bolted.

He ran as fast as he could, his heart in his throat and once he reached his van, he jumped in and drove off, breaking a couple of laws while he was at it.

When he got back to his trailer and to his room after quietly walking past Wayne who had fallen asleep on the couch he quickly took his shoes off and went straight to bed with his clothes on.

He didn’t sleep that night, not really.

He didn’t sleep the whole weekend. He couldn’t, with all the things going through his head.

When Monday came along and it was school again, he got himself up and was at school earlier than usual.

He went about his day as usual. Did the things he always did.

Except maybe he focused more on other things now.

Like how Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington looked at each other during lunch when they thought no one was watching. Or when they were both leaving at the same time and saw each other at the school’s parking lot while Billy pretended to flirt with a girl.

When Steve drives off with his car, leaving Billy to look after him with a frown.

And maybe… maybe when Steve finally looked at Eddie during their shared class that week, Eddie looked at him differently.

Maybe now he didn’t give him his usual glare. Maybe he just stared at him, telling him that he knew.

Knew that that chaste kiss they shared during the 1980 summer camp wasn’t just ’stupid mistake’ and ’wrong’ like Steve had said the next morning.

That it had meant something to that small and big eyed boy that had been giggling at everything Eddie had joked about during those days.

That those small touches and when he held Eddie’s hand when they kissed wasn’t just because he thought it would be a mistake.

No.

He had meant it.

”What are you staring at, man?” Steve had said to him, giving him that small pout Eddie honestly wanted to kiss off of him.

”Nothing. Don’t worry your little head, Pretty Boy.” Eddie had said mockingly, making Gareth laugh next to him.

But Steve didn't laugh. Eddie loved watching his pout turn into a small shock and just as he was about to ask something, the bell rang.

He gave Steve a wink, making the other blush and that’s when had taken off, leaving confused and nervous Steve Harrington behind.

Sure, maybe he got some angry looks from Hargrove after that and maybe the stronger man sometimes pushed him a little harder on the cramped school halls, making him stumble, but they never mentioned it.

Never said anything.

Maybe that’s how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was better this way.

But Eddie still couldn’t get the image of Steve off his head.

And how he sometimes wishes to have been Billy then. Been the one to make Steve feel that way.

To make him scream.

[mymisfitsbabe]

Billy had just finished cleaning his kitchen, just finished putting away the last clean plate when someone pounded on the front door. Frowning, Billy pulled off his apron and tossed it on the counter. 

“Who is it?” Billy asked as he padded over on bare feet to the closed door. 

“Who the fuck do you think it is? Open the Goddamn door.” Gator called back. 

“You can't just start showing up here, Tillman.”

“Just open the fucking door before I kick it down, Hargrove.”

Opening the door Billy sighed.

“What are you doing he- What the fuck is that?” Billy hissed as Gator pushed into his trailer and handed him a large furball. 

“It's a dog.” Gator sneered as he moved further into the small living room.

“Uh, and why the fuck did you bring it here?” Billy asked as it wiggled in his hold, it's sandy brown fur already shedding onto his black shirt.

Gator turned and gave Billy an exasperated look, but Billy's focus shifted as he spotted the shiner Gator sported under his right eye. Gator was still in his police uniform, his vest had some blood on it and he was covered in dirt splotches. He smelled like sweat and dogs.

“What the hell happened to you?” Billy asked, shifting the pup to one arm so he could grab Gator's face and get a good look at his eye. 

“Nothin. Anyways, you need a dog round here since it's so easy to break in this shit hole.” 

“Oh fuck off, just cause you decided to go all psycho horror movie on me doesn't mean I need a damn dog.” Billy passed the ball of fur back to Gator. 

“Just keep the fucking dog, Bills. It ain't gonna kill you.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with it? I'm at work 12 hours a day.” 

“Take it with you, Benny loves dogs and the shop is gated off.” 

“Great, then give Benny the dog if he loves them so much.”

“I didn't get the dog for Benny, I got it for you.”

Billy sighed, as Gator set the dog on the couch. The thing was huge for a pup, thick sandy brown fur with bright brown eyes. It's paws and ears seemed too big for its body and the thing looked half wild. 

“Where'd you get it from anyways?” Billy asked, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing the pup suspiciously. 

“It's a police pup reject. The mom got knocked up by a wolf and this is the pup. Bright side is it's trained.” Gator rambled as he sat next to the pup and started petting it's head. 

“A wolf? You want me to keep a wolf as a pet?” Billy balked. 

“Course, they make great guard dogs. Roy has a pack of bout six back home.” 

“Gator, I don't know. I've never had a dog before,” Billy carted a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. “I don't have food for it and the store is closed.”

Gator shrugged, his face turning down. “I got stuff in the truck, you don't need to get it nothing. I just thought you'd like it. It's gotta be shit being out here alone all the time.” 

Gator was chewing on his lip, looking like he'd been kicked and Billy sighed. “What’s his name?” 

“Gator Jr.” Gator smirked up at Billy.

“That's a shit name.” Billy said arching a brow and suppressing and grin 

“Fuck you, Gator's an awesome name.” Gator threw the old beat up couch pillow at Billy.

Billy caught it and laughed. “I'm not calling him Gator, pick a different name you fucking redneck.”

Gator jutted his lip out and scratched the back of his head. “Fine, I guess her name is Eleven then. That's whats on her tags.” 

“Christ, there's eleven of them?” 

“Yeah, but the others are full German shepherds. The station is gonna keep those.” 

“Go get her stuff and show me how to not kill her.” Billy sighed. 

[fizzigigsimmer]

I need baby drag queen Steve being mentored by Billy. Like he’s so confused. Got kicked out of daddy’s house for putting on lipstick and his mother’s heels. He doesn’t think he’s a girl - he’s not trans. Maybe? He doesn’t know. He just knows he likes how certain things feel, makeup on his eyes, the flowy hem of a skirt against his thighs. But it’s always been forbidden. Taboo. He can’t have those things without certain labels - consequences. Like getting kicked out of his parents house with no job and no prospects to speak of.

I need him to land at some out of the way bar, spending his last few dollars on a cheap meal and indoor heating. It’s drag night and Billy’s the headliner - whole crowd buzzing in anticipation for some queen named Cherry Lane. Billy kills it. He’s so enthralling, and Steve barely breathes through the entire first song. And it’s only when Billy speaks that recognition slams through him. That’s Billy Hargrove. Cherry Lane. Fucking duh.

I need Billy, suspicious and snarly at first because what the fuck is Harrington doing here and looking at him like that. But when he finds out Steve is basically living out of his car he lets him cash on the couch and before too long he realizes the way Steve looks at him is about want, and not just wanting Billy’s body. I need Billy teaching Steve how to do his makeup and giving him shit for his terrible taste in clothes - he always ends up looking like a Real Housewife of Jersey Shore - and I need them to kiss and cuddle and fuck when they’re not being a bitchy dynamic duo.

[ickypuppi3]

i love billy and i want him to be happy and human but at the same time i also think he deserves to come back as some sort of eldritch horror and just fuck shit up

[bigdumbbambieyes]

if ST was set in the 90s and we had a mungrove friendship, i know Hopper would be pulling Billy over for driving almost at a crawl late in the evening. Eddie would be sat in the passenger seat, still playing his stupid air guitar as Billy stares up at Hopper from over the top of his aviators, chewing a piece of gum, as if they both aren’t high as fuck and driving stupidly.

Hopper is tempted to take them both in just to teach them a lesson but they’re so insufferable together, they’d just annoy the piss out of everyone at the station, plus it’s late and no one’s around and he can’t be bothered to give a shit when he has a date with Joyce in an hour.

so, he smacks the top of the Camaro and gives them a glare, says, “Alright, I’m feeling generous tonight so move it along, Beavis and Butthead — I don’t wanna see either of you for the rest of the night.”

And Eddie cackles from the passenger seat as Billy grins at the nicknames, laughing as he pulls away and continues down the street, Hopper shaking his head with a disgruntled face the entire time.

[writethrough]

i SAW that. i saw you and @steph-speaks talking about billy’s (ass)et. you two motherfuckers (affectionate) are gonna be the end of me. now i just want to know what your thoughts are regarding billy with an s/o who’s quite fond of that particular part of him. yes, i am projecting. the “love tap” has me on the floor. thank you, and i will now take my leave.

😉 An S/O who appreciates Billy’s ass(ets), huh?

Well, for starters, you can’t ever quite keep your hands to yourself—not that he minds. Especially when you're feeling extra playful and run away after you give him said "love tap."

He'll chase you down the hall, around the backyard, and into the bedroom before he stops letting you get away from him and scoops you into his arms. Sometimes, he'll swing you around, and other times, he'll pin you against the wall, holding you by your thighs, and whisper in your ear, "You're mine now, honey."

Then, there are the days where you slip your hands into his back pockets and rest your chin on his chest, smiling as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and starts to sway. He'll kiss your temple, completely at ease with your hands on him.

You definitely sneak a peak when he's coming out of the shower or changing. And you can't help but whistle at the sight. He throws his head back and laughs, sometimes giving you a wink, and when he's feeling particularly playful, he'll say, "C'mon, sweetheart, s'only fair if I can see you, too."

It's become part of your routine at this point—if a day goes by that you don't touch his butt, somethings very wrong.

[oneshortdamnfuse]

Hello, you don't know me but this will sit with me if I don't say something.

I had a conversation with you a long while ago about Billy Hargrove and the racism he perpetuated and you continued to sweep it under the rug because he's an abuse survivor.

I'm extremely sensitive to that, I am; but the way you continued to down play the hurt that I, a black person, felt from his actions truly hurt and and really made me re-examine the Stranger Things fandom.

I've moved on and healed, but I just hope that you've taken the time to learn that someone's trauma doesn't negate the trauma they can inflict on someone else. I was personally a Billy Hargrove apologist myself but when I stepped away from the fandom, I stepped away from him to.

You don't need to respond, I'm not expecting you to; I just hope that you've been able to learn, and if not, I hope this can get you to consider it.

You claim I don't know you, so how could I have ever had a conversation with you about Billy Hargrove's racism?

I did have a conversation with someone in my messages about Billy Hargrove, and I'd be happy to share any of those messages with anyone as I don't feel that at any point I defended his racist behavior. If you're that person, then there's no way that I don't know you, and if you're that person then you are being purposefully disingenuous in this ask.

You approached me. You were disturbed because I was talking about a character you don't like. I was talking about that character as an abuse survivor who watched a fandom say vile things about them as an abuse victim. I'm extremely sensitive to the way people accuse an abuse victim of things that they didn't canonically do and/or make it seem like a teenager who said and did bad things is beyond the ability of redemption or saving. Yet. You don't care about that, do you? Do I go into your ask box and say, "Gee, I wish you would give more of a shit about the horrible things people say about him day in and day out"?

No, because I don't think about you. At all.

If you don't care about him as a survivor, then there's no convincing you. All I wanted at the time was for people to stop saying and doing things within that fandom space that were harmful and triggering to survivors. Survivors and victims of abuse don't have to be "good" people or "earn" basic human decency when people talk about them as survivors. You can feel however you want about them. You can hate them as people. I don't give a shit. Clearly, because I'm not in your ask box obsessing over things you said to me in messages last year.

I think it's very entitled and obsessive of you to continually approach me about this if you are indeed the person I talked to. I am not the one responsible for your feelings and it's not my job to hate what characters you want me to hate or provide an exhaustive list of disclaimers whenever discussing a "problematic" character. These are fictional characters. People are allowed to have complex feelings about them and you need to get it through your head that treating a character as complex does not mean condoning their behavior.

You know that I don't think that a person's trauma negates what they've done wrong because I told you that, if we in fact had a conversation about him. I don't think you were ever a "billy apologist" if you are that person, and if you are that person then you were more upset I didn't talk about how much of a "terrible" person he was to his sister. If you are not that person, then we never had a conversation about him.

Either way, you are lying and disturbing my day for no reason.

Edit:

If this is you, then I'll be happy to post any part of our conversation publicly. I've said my piece to you, though, and I have no interest in continuing our conversation.

If it's not you, then why are you claiming we had a conversation but that I "don't know you"?

[missingbillyhargrove]

Everyone talks about Eddie coming back in season five as Kas but what if they just totally blindside us and have Billy come back as Kas. I don’t know…something something bring Billy back. Something something max needs her brother back

[prettybillycore]

Me, with the complete and total ability to write fluff, writing billy angst for all my mutuals to read:

[hargrove-brainrot]

i just had a fem! headcanon about billy and… omg 😳

he would occasionally call you “mama” even if your aren’t actually pregnant. like just as a nickname. i know that doesn’t sound like much, BUT JUST IMAGINE THIS:

you sat at your desk and had just finished your homework. you suddenly heard a ring from the cherry red phone placed on your window sill. you answered.

“hello?”

“hey baby”. you smiled. “hi b”, you cooed. “can i crash at your place?”, billy asked, “my parents are arguing again, they’ll probably end up dragging me in”. you frowned, remembering what they’ve done to him. “yeah, of course”, you replied.

………………………………………………………

several minutes go by, and you were eager for billy’s arrival. you jumped as you heard a tapping on your window. you looked outside and saw blue eyes and a curly brown mullet peeking inside.

you shoved the window open. “billy!”. he chuckled. “you scared the shit out of me!”, you sighed, “why didn’t you just knock? my parents aren’t home”. “how would i know? i just ran on instinct”. you giggled as he kissed you from outside. “come in, you big dork”, you ordered, “it’s freezi- mm!”.

billy kissed you before you could finish. he continued as he climbed in the window, walking you backwards. you paused when you got to your bed.

“… hi”

billy chuckled, gently kissing your forehead. he then gently rubbed your back.

“hey, mama”, he purred.

(not me writing a whole ass billy x reader introduction 💀 BUT SHOULD I?)

[pretty-emo-dad]

Thinking about how fanon (harr*ngr*ve) billy is just canon Jonathan

[billybabyy]

“Why do you like Billy Hargrove so much?”

My first comfort character was Dean Winchester, I like them a little unhinged

[mymisfitsbabe]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53051374

Billy pulled the old tow truck named Betty into the back of the station, frowning as he parked. Billy wondered if the Sheriff had given them the right location. With a sigh Billy pulled out his phone and called the station. It rang twice before Billy's passenger door opened and Gator climbed in. 

Hanging up Billy eyed the police deputy suspiciously. The sheriff's son had swiped Billy's paperwork onto the floor and stomped them down as he adjusted himself into the seat. With mud covered boots, dirt covered pants and a shirt that looked and smelled like it hadn't been changed in a day or two, Billy couldn't believe Gator had made it to deputy. The only clean looking things Gator wore was the thick padded coat and the black skeleton gloves on his hands.

Grinding his teeth Billy eyed the other man a little more closely. The holster strapped to his thigh with a fully loaded gun resting in it was the only thing keeping Billy's mouth firmly shut and his hands gripping tightly to the steering wheel. 

“What the hell are you doing, Gator?” Billy growled.

“Shut the fuck up and head out to the 401.” Gator snapped as he rolled his window down and took a drag off his vape. 

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes Billy did as he was told with a flat. “Yes, sir.”

Billy noticed the way Gator shifted in his seat to side eye him and wondered idly if he'd said yes too sarcastically. The deputy licked his lips and shifted again to stare out the window, one arm draped over the frame, fingers gently touching the mirror while the other was slung up over the back of the seats.

Rolling his shoulder that ached from the cold winter wind Billy headed down the road to the highway Gator had indicated. 

Halfway there and Billy wished he'd worn more layers, his well fitting blue jeans were doing little to keep him warm and his unzipped leather jacket felt like it was just for show. His fingers were numb and his face was starting to hurt. 

“Will you roll the window up? I'm freezing my balls off over here.” Billy bit out. 

Gator was kicked back, his head resting on the back of the seat causing his body to arch and his neck to be exposed, Billy tried not to stare too hard as they idled at a stop sign. Licking his lips and rolling his head on his shoulders Gator looked at Billy, who was a little too distracted by the dusting of beauty marks across Gator’s pale skin. 

“If you didn't dress like a fucking city beatuy queen you wouldn't be so cold.” Gator smiled sweetly at Billy who just stared back at him. 

“Roll up the window or get the fuck out of my truck.” Billy said in a stirn voice, anger starting to swell in his chest. 

Gator sat upright and stared at Billy for a long moment, his face dark, eyes an eerily calm. Unfortunately, Billy had never been one to back down from overbearing authority figures. 

“Ask me real pretty.” Gator said, arching a brow at him. 

Billy ground his teeth and grimaced. “Please,” he gritted out. 

Gator tapped his badge and leaned into Billy. “With respect.”

“Please, deputy.” Billy growled. 

The way Gator’s eyes seemed to darken while his body relaxed made Billy want to squirm. Smirking, Gator rolled the window up.

“That's a good little bitch.” Gator hummed.

Settling back in Gator once again threw his arm over the top of the seats, spreading his stance so his thighs took up most of the space on the long shared seat and let his head rest back on his shoulders exposing his throat and the delicate curve of his Adams apple. 

 Billy eyed Gator, the guy was white trash through and through and dumb as rocks to boot. Everything from his hair, to his accent, to his clothes screamed country bumpkin… but Billy be damned if Gator wasn't also hot as sin.

Growling under his breath Billy looked away, he threw the truck in gear and continued down the road. 

[sortasirius]

no but like...billy getting back to california for the first time after moving to hawkins

(where did this come from?  idk lmfao)

he’s finally graduated and scraped up enough to move out of neil’s house, and he swears to max he’ll write a letter and send it to henderson’s address so neil doesn't see it as soon as he gets settled.

he redlines it all the way there, barely stops for anything but gas, passes out once for three hours at a truck stop in the texas panhandle before hitting the road again.

he pulls to the side of the road the second he sees a beach inlet, the cool wind of san diego hitting his face, his breathing getting easier with every passing second as he puts the camaro in park and sees the water glittering before him.

he sprints down to the beach, ignoring the stares of people around him, and splashes into the water, sinking to his knees and letting it lap around him, feeling grounded for the first time since he was seventeen.

he stays there until the sun sets, watching and relishing the feel of the water on his skin, relishing the feeling of freedom that he’d been looking for his entire life.

and he finds a little place near the beach.  it’s shitty and rundown, but he’d always been pretty handy, so he fixes the fridge at least once a month and has already had to replace the showerhead twice, but he doesn't care, because he wakes up to the sound of the water every day.

he finds a job at a mechanic shop, and writes to max that he has friends when he really doesn’t.

he buys a cheap surfboard off a kid at the beach one weekend, and though it’s seen better days, he treats it like it’s made of gold anyway.

and then, when he’d just starting to get into a routine, when he’s got a library card and reads on the beach every evening until it gets too dark to see, and things are going well at the mechanic shop, a wrench gets thrown in his little life in the form of a burgundy beemer that has to be pushed into the shop late that summer

he recognizes it, because of course he does, but then again, what the fuck would steve harrington be doing here?  and anyway, there were probably thousands of those cars in that color in this state.  it couldn't be him.

until it was, and billy was staring at him, watching him smile slightly and shrug a little

“i think the chassis is shot,” he says, “it’s been shaking like a bitch since las vegas.”

“what’re you doin here?” billy mumbles, even as he peers under the car on the lift and realizes that the chassis is, in fact, shot

“always wanted to see california,” he says, “figured i could go somewhere with a tour guide.  show me the beach.”

that makes billy draw up short.

“you’ve never seen the beach?” he asks, figuring that steve might have to replace the entire underside of the car if he wants to make it back to hawkins in one piece.

“never been outside of hawkins, really,” he shrugs, “just out of town games and indianapolis a few times.”

“we’ll you aren’t going anywhere with this,” he gestures up to the car, “it shouldn't even be running, really.”

“how long will it take to fix?”

“fuck, if you’ve got the money?  i’ll have to order parts.  couple weeks at least.”

steve just shrugs.

“can i crash with you?”

billy just stares at him, and steve flushes a little.

“you said i could,” he reminds him, “before you left.”

it was true, billy had said that a few weeks before he’d left, when he and steve had gotten drunk at the quarry and billy had let things spill out of his mouth that he meant but couldn't take back.  he hadn’t thought that steve remembered that.

“yeah,” he said, “i guess i did.”

and so he takes steve home with him, staring straight ahead of him, music loud on the radio, trying to pretend that he always gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles showed white, and not because steve was sitting in the passenger seat, hair blowing in the wind and staring out at the waves.

billy pulls into the driveway, and turns back to the ocean, and steve follows like billy’s pulling him along.  he goes slower this time, watching steve carefully as they approach the water.

steve stands and watches it with wide eyes, inching closer, getting sand in his shoes as he shuffles forward bit by bit.

“it’s pretty,” he breathes, and if billy wasn’t so constantly fucking mesmerized by him he would have laughed.

“yeah,” he whispers back, voice lost in the sound of the waves, still staring at steve, “it is.”

and steve sinks down onto the sand, billy following his lead, and they sit and watch the sun set together.

and if their hands find each other in the sun-warmed sand, that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

[shivered-bones]

harringrove except it's a haunting of bly manor inspired au.

steve is the wealthy rich kid that's inherited his recently deceased father's property. a run down english manor is a suprising inclusion, but, honestly, steve's tenuous connection to his own parents means a mystery was bound to show up somewhere. he intends to ignore it at first, until robin is unearthing old news articles and dustin is affectionately dubbing it his 'murder house'. of course they go, because they're both like a dog with a bone and steve is their reluctant enabler.

billy doesn't know he's dead. he knows he was somewhere he shouldn't have been doing something he shouldn't have done and he can't truly remember why. maybe it's because she wanted him. billy doesn't remember why that's important either. but he was angry, and the manor crumbled under the weight. he does know he is in service of the manor. he must care for it, which includes scaring away the trio of intruders that seem set on inhabiting the manor.

except the rest of the group in america have a direct line to the spooky goings on in the manor via social media and texts. what started off as a simple trip ends with steve housing six teenagers for the summer, and he would be content to lounge in the garden the entire time if the ghost didn't seem insistent on making his life a living hell.

the ouija board and the seances and the camera peering from the corner of steve's room were a package deal when it came to the nerds that had decided steve was their appointed guardian when it came to possibly dangerous scenarios. but he didn't agree to el's freaky visions and will's sixth sense and max's stubborn insistence leading to an unexpected connection, nor did he agree to the pull in his chest.

billy and steve are separated by time and life and death. they're an abnormality that was doomed from the start.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Hanningrove 🤍

selfish and greedy

i hope you two never have another first kiss

because our firsts are

the last i ever want

poem written by Billy for his loves, Chrissy and Steve