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half-oz-eddie · 1 month

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Thank you @shieldofiron for passing the baton my way ♡

here's my contribution for the @harringrove-relay-race!

There’s never a dull moment at 1566 Main Street, where Neil Hargrove is a slumlord. He owns a shitty building that’s hanging on by a thread and he’s too cheap to pay for the upgrades. But he wanted that ceiling rent, right? Cheap Bastard.

More often than Billy would like, his phone rings, because this or that is busted and fucked up, and Neil just leaves it all on Billy’s shoulders to get it done, and do it right or else.

He didn’t give a shit that he’d left Billy with such a mess. Their handyman quit months ago, and it was up to Billy as the superintendent to make sure this shit show of a building was running just enough to not end up with an investigative reporter exposing them on the channel 7 news.

Billy sat up, groaning in annoyance when his phone rang again. It was the new tenant down the hall, calling to tell him that his lock was broken.

Billy dragged himself to 3F, knocked on the door, and a preppy, bright-eyed pretty boy answered with a welcoming smile.

“Hey, thanks for coming so quickly. I was afraid I’d have to miss work.”

“Not a problem.” He assessed the lock. “This is a shit building anyway. My old man doesn’t do what he should for the tenants.”

“Well at least you care about the tenants, right?”

“Guess so.” He mumbled back, focusing his attention on the door.

The lock was a quick fix, only taking Billy roughly 10 minutes. Thankfully, he had all the right tools on hand.

“Finished already?” The tenant asked.

“Yeah. Y’mind if I use your bathroom to wash my hands?”

“Go right ahead!” He said welcomingly. “It’s uh—“ He stopped himself with a laugh. “You probably already know where it is.”

Billy nodded, inviting himself down the hall. He caught a brief glimpse into the bedroom, spotting the curtain sheet and mattress on the floor as he passed by.

He washed his hands and headed back to the door, preparing to let himself out.

“I’m right down the hall in 3A, so, if you need anything, you can just knock on my door. Like I said, this place is a shit hole, so…I’ll expect to hear from you again.”

“I’ll probably uh, call first.” He nervously chuckled.

“Whatever floats your boat, Mr. Harrington. See ya around.”

“Wa-wa-wait!”

Billy turned back.

“I’d love to thank you. My friends say I make a mean cup of Joe.” He persuaded with a smile.

Billy shrugged. The neighbors weren’t usually so friendly, so this was a change of pace. “Why not?”

He was offered the only chair in Mr. Harrington’s apartment at a wobbly little table.

A few minutes later, Mr. Harrington joined him at the wobbly table, offering him his only good mug, keeping the mug with a broken handle for himself. He sat on a storage box, his chin meeting the tabletop.

“So, Mr. Hargrove—“

“Please call me Billy. My dad’s Mr. Hargrove.”

“Only if you call me Steve.” He grinned.

“Deal…Steve.” Billy charmingly enunciated his name.

“So, Billy,” he continued “have you always lived in Los Angeles?”

“No. Lived in San Diego most of my life. My gramps left this building to my dad about 4 years ago, and he made me the super.”

“Oh, I see. I kinda moved out here on a whim.” Steve shrugged. “I was staying in a shitty motel for a few days before I secured this place. My dad’s not too happy I’m here, so we’re not on speaking terms.”

“What’s he got against LA?” Billy curiously asked, eyebrows raising as he sipped the surprisingly delightful cup of coffee.

“Nothing, I don’t think. He’s just pissed I didn’t wanna join the family business. I wanted to give modeling a try.”

“Modeling?” Billy snorted.

“Y-you don’t think I can?”

“Pretty boy like you? You could definitely be a model.” Billy nodded.

Steve hung his head down, hiding a blush. “You’re uh…you’re a nice looking guy yourself. You’ve never considered modeling?”

“I did once, but the photographer said I’m…difficult to work with.” Billy smirked mischievously, causing Steve to laugh. “I just don’t like people telling me what to do. Stand like this, stand like that, poke your cock out a bit.” He joked. “Not my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

“Surfing, swimming, cars, I dunno. If I could do all 3 for the rest of my life, I would. But I’m stuck here, fixing shitty locks and making sure my old man doesn’t get sued.” Billy glanced at his vibrating phone and stood. “Gotta go. Thanks for that…mean cup of Joe.” Billy smiled. “See ya around.”

“Bye!” Steve waved, a wide smile on his face. He let out a happy sigh. Maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

A week later, Billy received a call after hours. It was Steve Harrington again.

“Hey. You having some kind of emergency? I’m…sorta off the clock.”

“Yeah I—shit—sorry! Something happened with one of my pipes and now there’s—ah! God dammit! There’s water everywhere. Couldja help me?”

“Be right there.”

Billy sighed and put his shoes back on. “I’m so tired of this shitty fucking building.” He grumbled. “Something’s always fucking fucked up.”

He swung his door open in annoyance, locked it swiftly and headed down the hall.

He gave Steve’s door a harsh knock, his eyes narrowing at the wet idiot standing before him.

“I uh…” He exhaled. “I tried to fix it myself, but I made it a whole lot worse.”

Billy rushed in, groaning. “Jesus, Harrington, What did you do?”

“I-I dunno!” He exclaimed worriedly. “I just—I didn’t wanna bother you after hours.”

Billy was so irritated, but he couldn't find it in his heart to shout at the pathetic, sopping wet dumbass. One look in those shameful, doe eyes behind those dripping bangs, and Billy simply had no fight in him. It was pretty sweet of Steve to think of him by trying to fix the pipe on his own. But jesus, what a mess!

“This place is hanging by a goddamn thread, Steve.”

Billy went to work fixing the pipe, water splashing all over him in the process. It took him twice as long as the lock, but he was able to fix the problem before the kitchen began to flood.

“I’m really sorry.” Steve apologized, handing Billy a towel. "I'll clean everything up."

Billy took off his shirt and rung it out in the sink. “Just…promise you won’t try to fix anything else by yourself, okay?”

Steve slowly nodded, as he was too stunned to speak. His eyes were glued to Billy’s wet, chiseled body, following the water droplets that fell into his jeans.

“Uh—I—yeah. Yeah I promise.”

“Is there anything else you need fixed before I go?” Billy asked.

“N-no. Nothing else. I’ll let you know. I promise.”

Billy gently patted Steve’s shoulder and let himself out.

Billy returned to his apartment and opened up a can of beer, aggressively chugging it as he fought back the tears in his eyes.

Crisis fucking averted. He couldn’t imagine the world of pain his father would bring upon him if Steve’s apartment flooded.

He didn’t blame Steve. It wasn’t his fault. It was all Neil. Neil and his shitty expectations. His shitty demands and his shitty fucking building.

Billy wanted to get out of there more than anything, but his father controlled his life for so long, he didn’t have anything to his name. He barely paid him a decent wage for being the building super. What was the fucking point anymore? Billy was destined to be alone and miserable in this dreary building.

He cried himself to sleep.

Another week passed. There were only 2 repairs needed in the building, and things felt fairly calm these days. Billy and Steve would catch one another in the hallway. Steve would always wave, and Billy would make a joke about Steve swimming in his indoor pool.

One afternoon, Billy was on his way down to check the mail and Steve was waiting for the elevator.

“What’s with the big boxes? Moving out already?” Billy smirked, causing Steve to laugh.

“No, no. I bought some new furniture.”

Billy got a closer look at the boxes. Those were some pretty high end brand names. Looks like Harrington came from money. He wouldn’t have moved to an awful building like this, if he were Steve.

“D’you need some help assembling the furniture?”

“Really?” His eyes widened in surprise. “You gonna charge, like, an assembly fee?”

“I won’t. Just being friendly to a tenant and neighbor.”

They exchanged soft gazes and sweet smiles.

Steve accepted the help. “That’d be great. I really wanna get this table together before my friend comes to town to visit me this weekend. She’s gonna bring her girlfriend and her girlfriend really doesn’t like me.” Steve confessed with a laugh.

“No? How come?”

“She thinks I’m stuck up or something, I dunno. I guess it’s because I was an asshole in high school.”

Billy shrugged. “Yeah me too.”

“I’m gonna bring these boxes down and then we can put together my furniture now, if you can.”

“I don’t have anything else on my schedule. I was gonna grab my mail and binge watch something.”

“Sorry for ruining your plans.” Steve teased as the elevator door opened.

“You’re not sorry.” Billy softly chuckled.

They returned to Steve’s apartment together and assembled his table.

“Finally, it’s not a piece of shit little table like the last time you were here.”

“Yep. An actual decent table with some nice chairs.” Billy nodded satisfactorily. “Looks pretty good.”

“You wanna stay for dinner? A-as a thank you. I’ve got a lasagna prepped, if you’re hungry.”

Billy paused before accepting the invitation. “Sure. I could eat.”

Steve popped in his lasagna and toasted some breadsticks, then made 2 plates for himself and Billy.

“Looks damn good, Harrington. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“My mom was always cooking and baking for charity events and dinner parties so I helped out in the kitchen here and there.”

Billy took his first bite, a moan nearly slipping out of his mouth. “Jesus, this is the best food I’ve had in a long time.”

“Really? I-I’m sure you probably cook quite a bit yourself.”

“I don’t cook at all. No idea how.”

“Really? W—I could teach you, if you want. A-and we could eat a few meals together, if your schedule’s free.”

“I live where I work and I have all my meals alone. It’d be nice to eat with someone for a change.”

“You uh…want some wine? I dunno if you drink or—“

“I drink. I’ll take a glass.”

Steve poured a glass of wine for each of them, and they continued to chat into the late hours of the night. Steve fell asleep on his new couch and Billy washed the dishes before leaving Steve’s apartment and heading to bed.

His heart was racing practically the entire night and he couldn’t understand why. What was so great about the hot neighbor-slash-tenant with his soft, fluffy hair and his smooth voice and his stupid smile. Yeah, okay, maybe he looked sexy in an apron and knew his way around the kitchen and he was like a wife, who could also be a husband and he was every goddamn thing Billy wanted—but what’d that matter? He was damned to spend his life alone in that shitty building until Neil died and he was free to demolish it someday.

Only then would he be free.

A month passed. Billy had dinner with Steve at least twice a week. Sometimes their dinners would turn into movie nights. Steve even invited him over for party games when his friends came into town to visit.

And each moment they spent together, only caused Billy to fall deeper in love.

Steve had to work, so there wouldn’t be any dinner that night. He made sure to give Billy some leftovers from the night before, so Billy heated them and ate them before going to bed early.

He groaned in annoyance when his sleep was disturbed by a late night phone call.

“Another emergency?” He wondered, when he noticed Harrington’s name on the screen. It was 9:52 PM. Did his pipe burst again?

“Hey, Steve, what’s wrong? Is it the pipes?”

“No, but, I do need something repaired. Could you come by for a moment? If it’s not too much trouble.”

Steve was more of a treasure than trouble to Billy. He was the only sense of life in his dreadful world. He would come anytime Steve called, no matter how late.

“No problem, be right there.” He responded cooly, concealing his excitement to see Steve again.

He grabbed his tools and headed down the hall. Steve opened the door before he could knock.

“Alright, show me where the problem is.”

“It’s uh…not something you can use tools for.”

Billy raised a brow in confusion. “What’re you talkin’ about, Harrington?”

“Can—can you fix a broken heart?”

This is what he called me over for?

Billy laughed. “If I knew how, I’d fix my own.”

“Whenever I catch a glimpse of you around the building, you always look so sad and alone. I just…I hate seeing you like that.”

“I’m not like that when we hang out, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does. Because I feel better when I hang out with you too.” There was a long pause as they averted each other’s eyes. They could feel their hearts nearly beating out of their chests. "You like my coffee, you-you laugh at my jokes. You support my ambitions. Even my friends like you!"

"Yeah, your friend's girlfriend seems to like me more than she likes you."

They shared a laugh, and Steve's smile slowly faded as his gaze turned serious.

“W-what I’m saying is...” Steve clenched his sweaty fist “I think…I think I’m falling for you.”

Billy gasped upon hearing the confession. Was this a dream? Was he still in his bed, fast asleep? Maybe he should pinch himself to find out.

“You sure you’re not just trying to get a rent-free apartment?” Billy joked.

“Is uh…is it working?” Steve replied in jest.

Billy nodded. “Yeah. A little bit.”

When Steve gently pulled Billy into his arms, embracing him, Billy knew for sure this wasn’t a dream. He hadn’t been held like this in forever, maybe never. His mom used to hold him tight, but that was familial love. This was…a new and unexpected romantic gesture.

Billy did everything he could to hold back his tears.

Steve gently pulled away, looking into Billy’s cloudy eyes with his own.

“You really can fix anything, can’t you?”

“I dunno if I would call this fixing, but I’m definitely building something new with you.”

Steve kissed him softly, and Billy melted into his arms. For a split second he imagined merging with Steve and never parting with him again.

“One day, you and me, we’re gonna get the hell outta here. We’re gonna do everything we’ve ever dreamed of, and we’re gonna be happy.”

“Steve, this is the first bit of happiness I’ve felt in a long time. I’m almost satisfied with this.”

“You don’t have to settle, babe. We’re gonna have a beautiful life together, and you’ll never have to fix some shitty pipes ever again.”

“I’m holding you to that promise, pretty boy.”

They sealed the deal with another kiss.

And Steve did keep his promise.

Thank you for reading! Please look forward to something incredible from @adelacreations ❤️

#harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #ivy.doc #caliscoops.doc

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

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Series summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

ch 1: FLICKER

ch 2: A SCREAM AND A SLICE

ch 3: THE ROCKSTAR AND THR REDLIGHTS

chapter summary: flashbacks provide some insight on our favorite metalhead.

chapter trigger warnings: 18+ only, character death, references to child neglect, upside down references, poor parenting practices, etc, blood, character death, killer reveal.

CH. 4: FAMILY VALUES

1974

The tires on Evil Kneivel’s Stunt Bike trudged through the familiar path of the bare thread carpet in the back bedroom of trailer 8 in Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie was on his stomach, ignoring the rumbling noise from the hollow emptiness in his belly, he pressed his lips together to vibrate a motorcycle sound through his mouth, casually blowing dark curls from his vision.

An annoyed huff echoed across the thin walls, “This is boring,” Billy snarled, he was laying flat on Eddie’s bed, feet on the wall, throwing up his stretch Armstrong to himself before tossing it across the room, landing with a splat on the broken closet door.

Eddie pushed himself up from the carpet, the fibers itching through the holes in his jeans and scratching his knees.

He shrugs, running his tongue through the gap of his latest pulled tooth, “wanna see my guitar?”

“No,” Billy huffed, his thumb nail catching along the ridges of the zippo lighter he had stolen from Melvalds, lighting a small flame that he quickly extinguished with the flip of the lid. “I wanna do something fun.”

“Alright then, genius,” Eddie scowls, sitting next to Billy on the brown and burgundy ripped threads of an afghan blanket, “what do you have in mind?”

Billy swings his feet around, landing with ease and standing before his friend, the smirk on Billy’s face was one Eddie knew all too well.

—

Neil and Al didn’t hear the boys sneak out from the back room, too drunk and elbow deep in “work” to notice their sons had pushed the screen outward and hopped down to the ground.

“The instructions are clear, Al,” Neil said, his mouth around a can of Pabst, scrubbing a dirty thumbnail through his eyebrow, “here let me see that.”

Al blows a cloud of smoke into the air, handing over the poorly written note on the back of the Hideout napkin, clad with ketchup stains and spilled coffee. “Don’t know how you can even read this shit.”

“I can read that’s how I can read it dumb fuck,” Neil snapped, grabbing the napkin from him, he looks over the scratchy pen marks, pointing at the instructions again, “see right there, Creel laid it all out for us.”

“Okay wise ass, but it doesn’t make sense. How the hell are we supposed to break int- into that place without anyone seeing us?” Al puts the butt of his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, blowing smoke around the side of his mouth. “It’s under surveillance and the guards are armed.”

“The guards are armed.” Neil mocks, “Jesus Christ you sound just like a woman, how many cars have we boosted?”

“That’s different, easy. Breaking into a secret government lab? This is above our pay grade, and your skill level.”

“Yeah and your big brains are why you got fired from the mill right?”

“Shit,” Al downplays, “they didn’t pay worth a damn, boosting and dealin’ keep my pockets lined just fine.”

“If only it was enough to keep Liz around right?”

“Don’t say that bitch’s name in this house, I’ll slit your throat and use it for an ashtray, Hargrove.”

“Ahh shit,” Neil quips, “don’t get your panties wadded up, but back to this,” he says waving the napkin around, “the tunnels, that’s our way in.”

—-

Eddie’s van is barreling down the highway like a bat out of hell. Nancy hasn’t stopped crying, slowly wiping her tears, with the front of her shirt, sniffling every so often.

You’re grief stricken, numb to whatever the hell just happened, and what those things even were— and to top it all off, Eddie somehow knows?

Steve is leaning on the center console between you and Eddie, back seat driving and giving him directions on how to get to his house.

At first Eddie had thought about going to his trailer, he knew his dad and Wayne kept their rifles in the back shed, but decided against it at the last minute, hollering over his shoulder for anyone having an idea of where to go.

How safe could he keep everyone if his house was bordering on enemy lines?

—-

1983

The Hargrove’s house was nestled on Cherry. Older but comfortable, a damn sight better than the paper thin walls of the trailer, and the soggy couch that reeked of spilt beer.

Billy was going on and on about his girlfriends, yes plural. The blonde haired Gina or was it Jenny? And Tanya, the rich one who lived by Steve Harrington.

Junior year was different for the boys, where Billy excelled in popularity with the jocks being a basketball star, Eddie fell into a different crowd, the Hellfire Club.

They were still friends, still causing trouble on nights you couldn’t hang out, Billy now refusing entirely to hang out with Eddie when you were around, which you weren’t complaining about.

Eddie takes another swig of Mt. Dew and continues drawing a rogue for one of the older guys, Nico, in Hellfire. He was only half listening to the way Billy was describing the differences between the girls, body type mostly.

“If you want in on the action big boy just let me know, Gina loves hearing Metallica play when we steam up the windows in my car if ya know what I mean,” the cigarette hanging limply from his lips wiggled as he spoke, sending ashes down to his black converse.

Eddie immediately thought of you. He wasn’t sure of his feelings when it came to you but he wondered if you’d be weirded out that Billy was planning to get him a date. How would you feel if he went out with some chick?

The idea of you kissing someone made his stomach turn, and not in a butterfly way.

Instead of listening to Billy bitch about how much he can’t stand you and how you’re holding Eddie back he just went along with it, “yeah man, sounds good.”

“Sounds good?” Billy questions, racking the weights he was lifting with a thud, checking his traps in his reflection, shooting a look over his shoulder, “I’m trying to get you laid, dude.”

Eddie looks up from his seated position in the corner of Billy’s room, his fingers were silvery from shading the lines of his drawing, pinked eraser rubberings littered the front of his new Metallica shirt. “Yeah man, I’m down, what’s her number.”

Eddie wrote the number on the corner of his paper, barely registering what else Billy was saying, his mind wandering to what kind of shit his dad was up to this time.

Al was home for a longer stretch than normal this time, but he seemed to spend every waking minute at the Hargrove’s.

Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to think that his dad actually wanted to hangout with him.

Oh no, Al Munson had his priorities whenever he came back to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, and seeing his only son wasn't the top of the list.

He went to the bar first, picking out the waitress with zero confidence, saying all the right things and tipping her just enough to make her think she was really something. When her shift was over, he’d bring her to a sleazy by-the-hour motel, giving her the ol’ Munson magic and then, when she was in the shower or cleaning up in the bathroom, he’d bolt. Driving to the nearest gas station casino and spending whatever money the waitress had in her purse.

He’d finally crawl back to Wayne’s when he was bone dry, claiming he was home “for good this time!” And how he, “just wanted to hangout with my boy!”

Turns out the “hanging out” was going over to Neil’s and getting shitfaced drunk, bringing Eddie to tag along, to prove to his brother that he was a good dad. He failed to mention that Eddie would end up locked in Billy’s room until dawn.

So no, getting laid wasn’t on Eddie’s mind right now.

“I told Tommy H to leave you alone, told him I’d fuck his girlfriend again if I caught wind of him messing with you.” Billy said, shoving his chest out proudly. Maybe if he helped Eddie spread his wings, he’d stop getting picked on, but in Billy’s eyes, Eddie brought alot of it on himself sticking up for those fucking nerds he always hung out with.

The Hargrove kitchen table was covered in the same paperwork they always were when Al came over. Weird haikus, and riddles that were partly solved, a timeline of when and where everything needed to take place, and lastly, a complete blueprint of Lonnie Byers’ house.

Everything was just about set in stone, the only thing the men couldn’t figure out is why Creel had decided that it had to be Lonnie’s son as the baited sacrifice. And whenever they asked, Creel would say the same thing, “an eye for an eye.”

—

1986

“Right here,” Steve said, pointing his hand in Eddie’s face and out the window to his big behemoth of a house.

The kind of house that belonged to a homeowners society, telling you when, where, and how to water and mow your grass. Not the type of neighborhood that housed the brown piece of shit on wheels that was arriving into the Harrington driveway at record speeds.

Steve fumbled with the door and had to pry Nancy away from the van, she was petrified, her body shaking and tense, beneath his arm.

Eddie turns to you, tapping you gently on the shoulder and when you don’t move he guides your chin towards him, his heart breaking at the sight of your tear filled eyes.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” His eyes were large and the worry on his face only made you more scared, but he tried to put on a brave face for you, “c’mon, we gotta get inside.”

Steve’s home was decorated with expensive paintings and gold fixtures. The kind of decor that wasn't available at a mall but ordered from some lavish designer in New York. The living room had vacuum lines in the carpet, as if it were never used. The wood floors in the foyer sparkled from the overhead chandelier, it was a catalog home, looking as if it were staged for a photo

shoot rather than people actually living in it.

Nancy’s cries echoed loudly around the empty Harrington home, Steve scooped her up like an infant and carried her down the carpeted steps to the open basement.

Eddie still wasn’t acting like himself, his eyes were clouded over with something you couldn’t pinpoint, plagued with grief? But you felt reassured when his fingers curled into the spaces between yours as you followed Steve and Nancy to the basement.

—

NOVEMBER 9, 1983

“You working tonight?” Eddie asks at your locker, ringed fingers working over the corners of a Polaroid of you and him last summer when he tried to teach you how to skateboard. One of his favorite memories.

“Nope,” you answer from deep inside your locker, looking for the crumbled history notes you swore you still had for todays test, emerging from the locker and hitting your head on the way out, “ow fuck! Nah I’m off tonight, Don closed since Joyce’s son has been gone, why what’s up?”

Eddie shuts your locker and shifts his worn notebook to his other hand, “it’s Wednesday, the Hawk has free popcorn, thought maybe we could see a movie?”

It wasn’t weird for two friends to go to a movie together, you and Eddie had done it multiple times. Completely casual. Even if the heat from his fingers bumping against yours sent flutters to your stomach and he quickly moved his hand like you were a snake that had bit him, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“What time?”

“I dunno, seven? Pick ya up at 6:30, that way we can stop and get snacks to sneak some snacks in to go with our free popcorn.”

His boyish grin was the same from when you were kids, dimple dipped cheeks, and the darkest eyes twinkling with mischievous glee.

The door to Mr. Stanley’s Chem 210 was open and you stopped before going in the classroom to give Eddie your answer, “fine, but I want twizzlers.”

—

“What the hell do you mean it’s not enough? We did exactly what you said, solved each fucking riddle!”

The weathered boards of the Creel House groan as a screaming gust of wind slaps loud against the old home, the late winter storm rattled the wooden foundation and pelted the window panes with ice, pinging loudly with each large gale that forced its way through the cracks of the poorly maintained home.

A small fire crackled in the sunken fireplace, wafting dark plumes of smoke into the living room and ashing soot onto the cobweb covered furniture.

“He makes the rules, I do not, I am simply a messenger, a ves—,” a tattered mitten hand cups around his mouth, acting as a poor excuse for a shield against a barking, wet cough. Lungs burning with each wheeze of oxygen leaving. He clears his throat when the fit is over, wiping his mouth with a moth bitten scarf around his sagging neck, leaving blood behind, “..vessel, I don’t make the rules, Neil.”

“A what?” Al quizzes, shifting uncomfortably from his left leg to his right, “we delivered that kid exactly where you told us to! The whole town thinks he’s dead! Hawkins PD put out the report last night that a body was found by the quarry.”

Creel pokes the fire with the blunt end of his cane, crumbling a reddened log into pieces, adding a wadded mass of newspaper, the face of Will Byers’ missing poster front and center, his cherub smile warping with the heated flame.

“The boy is hiding somewhere. The creatures can not find him, he is convinced that there is help from our side.”

“Impossible,” Al scoffed, rubbing the cold of his nose on his sleeve, “I just talked to Chief Hopper at the Hideaway last night, and according to him it’s a closed case, Lonnie and his former ol lady were making funeral arrangements.”

“What you hear, and what you see, seem different ways to hold the key.”

“Enough with the psychological bullshit!” Neil yelled throwing his beer across the living room, “tell us what he needs from us.”

The blackened tooth smile creeps onto Creel’s face his red chapped lips split and bleed, and he holds back his cough just long enough to whispers the same fallacy he was given only hours before, in another dimension identical to this one.

“A son.”

—

The wind was ripping snow across the streets of Hawkins. The windshield wipers on Eddie’s van had frozen in place, stopping half way in the middle of the windshield, the shitty wipers no match against the freezing, winter rain.

You were certain that the seat belt in the passenger seat had never been used before tonight, but Eddie was insistent that you wore it, foregoing his own with a you’re kidding right? look. The whites of your knuckles shine bright with each overhead street lamp that dances lazily on the windshield, and Eddie looks over with a laugh.

“Almost there Pebs,” he mumbles, his mouth snug around the filter of a cigarette, a half smirk on his lips, “don’t worry.”

The storm foiled more plans than just good driving conditions, apparently The Hawk had closed earlier that day when the windchill dipped down to the negatives, Sal ensuring that his employees had plenty of time to get home before the weather took a turn for the worst. Thankfully Family Video was still open, and Eddie’s trailer was empty for the night, save for a couple of beers in the fridge and the heat from an electric blanket. Apparently the manager of Family Video didn’t give a fuck about the roads, neither did the factory.

You and Eddie were met with the rolling eyes of Steve Harrington as you two shoved each other out of the way to get into the door first, bringing with you a cold gust of wind and chattering teeth. After securing The Poltergeist and two boxes of peanut M&M’s, you and Eddie were tucked into the tin can death trap on wheels, trekking slowly to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

The bumpy driveway was nearly covered by the falling ice and snow, causing Eddie to slide into his parking spot, well the front yard, of trailer 8. Before he jiggles the key out of the ignition, a man’s shadow illuminated the front door, the burning end of a cigarette glowing on a presumed inhale, and Eddie mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“Stay here, okay?” He says with a shallow voice, his eyes never leaving the front door of the trailer, “I’ll be right back.”

What the hell was his dad doing at home this time? Maybe he was confused, thinking it was Thanksgiving already— probably wondering where the turkey and green bean casserole were.

The door of the van groans as Eddie pushes it open with his shoe, slamming it shut and hearing the crinkle of built up ice breaking away from the frame. Ice was gathering in his hair as he scurried up the steps, the shadow moving away from the door so Eddie could come inside, and once the threshold was breached, he wasn’t surprised to see his dad standing in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette, long fingers wrapped around a can of Wayne’s breakfast PBR.

“There’s my boy,” Al greeted with a false tone of cheer laced in his voice, “only been waiting here for an hour, I need your help with somethin’.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters, shutting the door tight and shaking his hair free of the elements, “must have lost my schedule on your flight arrival.”

“Watch it,” Al snaps, his eyes are bloodshot and dark rimmed, voice gravelly, “I’m in no mood for your shit tonight, alright?”

Eddie tuts through his teeth and shoulder checks his old man before walking to the living room, pulling the cord from the wall jack, unplugging the tv. Holding it against his hip to bring it to his room.

“What the hell man, I was gonna watch that!” Al yells as Eddie trudges into his room, shoving shit off his dresser with a sweep of his arm, putting the small tv down he turns to find his dad right behind him, glaring menacingly at him, nose to nose.

“The rabbit ears haven’t worked in months, guess you’ll have to go to Neil’s..”

His insult is cut short as Al grabs him by the lapels of his denim vest, shoving him into the closet door, busting it off the sliding track.

“Listen to me you little fuck…” Al spits, literally into Eddie’s face, “I said I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight, ya got me? I need your fucking help for once in your life, can you manage that?”

“Get off me,” Eddie sneers back, trying to hide the trembling in his jaw as he grits his teeth, “I’m serious.”

I'm serious, Dad! Al mocks, shoving Eddie harder into the closet, the splintering wood busting beneath his shoulder blades. “I ain’t ever asked you for nothin’ in your whole damn life, let you live here with Wayne, no rules no nothin’ and now it’s time to pay up. I need a favor.”

His eyes were shocking in a desperate way, anger riddling his irises.

Eddie thinks fast to his underwear drawer, the wad of cash shoved into an old sock underneath a sticky playboy, “I don’t sell whatever you’re on, and I don’t have any cash.”

“Ain’t about money, or horse, Eddie boy, you remember my friend, the one that lives in the old house on Morehead?”

Eddie thinks back to all the “friends” Al had ever introduced him to. There was Bud the one who owned the bowling alley in Bridgeport that had a fake eye and an gnarly looking scar on his face from a dog bite, Willy Jack who helped take the plates off of the van and scratch up the VIN number when they stole it from that scrap yard north of town, he even painted it any color Eddie wanted, but somehow the friend he was talking about wasn’t registering.

Raising an eyebrow, Eddie shakes his head no. “Doesn’t matter,” Al said all too quick, “his son has been missin’ see, for years, and we need your boys’ help finding him.”

“Who’s we?” Eddie asks, finally wiggling free from his dads hands, straightening his jacket, “and why the fuck do I need to find him?”

A closed fist breaks through the paneled wall next to his chin, “enough with the questions Eddie goddamnit! I need you on this, and you’re not gonna tell me ‘no’ you understand me?”

Eddie had never hated his dad more than he did at this moment. If he were older he’d swing a fist into his gut, knock his lights out once and for all, but he didn’t dare, shoulders slumped and the weight of the world and all its guilt piled onto him. He had no idea what kind of shit his dad was getting him into, only the gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong, and the only thing he could do was nod his head, agreeing to lend his trembling hand.

Across town on Cherry lane, Neil Hargrove was having the same friendly little “discussion” with Billy, but the conversation was different, lighter, happier, and the two Hargrove men seemed to be on the same page for once in their lives.

—

OCT. 1986

The Harrington’s basement was set up much like the Wheeler’s but on a grander scale. Large tv tucked behind an oak cabinet,, a beige leather couch that seemed to stretch across the entire living room area, a surround sound system in each corner, two bedrooms and a full bathroom. Setting Nancy down on the plus couch and covering her small form with a wool blanket, Steve opens a closet door and wrangles out a new set of golf clubs, leaning them against the wall, and running his hair through his fingers, as if he’s trying to make a mental list of household objects that could be used as a weapon.

The phone rings noisily in one of the bedrooms and Steve leaves to answer it.

Eddie still has your fingers between his, his rings leaving small indents but you don’t mind, it’s a comfort. He’s muttering to himself, in a tone only he can hear, biting the nails on his right hand with grinding clicks of his teeth. Looking at you his expression falters for a split second, trying to put on a calming mask, nonchalant-like even though inside he was screaming.

It wouldn’t be long before the Demodogs came, especially if the Demogorgons were out, would he be looking for him? Wondering where he has been? Why he’s been gone?

He guides you to the couch, a grand gesture with his nail bitten hand, grabbing a blanket and putting it around you.

Steve emerges from the back bedroom, a tiny bit of relief in his eyes, “that was Robin, they’re on their way here, I guess they barely made it out.”

You wince at the thought of everyone dead at the carnival, the way Argyle’s body was ripped to shreds, the howling cackle from Creel, the way he stood with his arms in a welcoming hug, just an hour ago you were convinced you were going to kiss your best friend, now the majority of Hawkins was dead.

Steve turns to Eddie, with wide searching eyes, fumbling for the right words but failing, “I need answers man, right now.”

—

Robin hangs up the phone, blood drying on her fingers from when she tripped over the gaping carcass of Tammy Thompson, her face covered with streaks of dirt and god knows what else, “ Let’s go! Everyone’s at St—”

A stinging in her spine brings heat, warm and dripping, then fiery hot, a hand on her shoulder she turns to see his maniacal eyes, the blood from the gash on his head now trickling into his mouth, white pearls stained in ruby.

“I did you a solid Rob, killed that bitch for you—didn’t even think twice about it, because we’re friends,” blood now trickling down her back into the waist of her scoops ahoy uniform shorts, she garbles a breath cusping on the breath of a question.

“shh,” he reassures, wiping tears from her freckles lined cheeks, extracting the knife from the well in her back, he helps her lie down gently, “this isn’t going to kill you, it’s just temporary you see? I can’t have any distractions, I can’t let you get in my way, but don’t worry!”

He moves to rip the phone cord from its hook, “I’ve done so much research on this meticulously studying over books on ways to cut the human body, what would hurt the worst, the least, the angle of the knife was just right, I guess I could be wrong,” he scratches his head, the whites of his eyes rolling as the smell of blood starts to work him up, an ache he can’t scratch, “hmm… take care, yeah? I’ll be back.”

A pool of blood blossoms from Robin’s back, flowing into the blue carpet fibers of her room— in tandem with the slow blink of her eyelashes meeting.

The ignition of his car engine backfires with a gunshot noise, the bloody knife he used to kill the others laid gently on the leather of his passenger seat.

Driving down the desolate streets of Hawkins, he looks in the rearview mirror, and for the first time, Jonathan Byers likes what he sees.

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @katethetank @munsons-mayhem28 * @mandyjo8719 @joannamuns9n @littlebookworm86 @hunnybuns-world @feyremunson

#eddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson angst #stranger things #upside down #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie fanfic

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chrisbitchtree · 3 months

Text

A Love Worth Fighting For

My contribution to @harringrovelovefest day 1

Prompt: Love is a battlefield

T - 1.3k

TW: Child abuse

***

Billy groans quietly as his alarm sounds at 5:45am and he rushes to turn it off before it can wake up his husband. He gives himself a moment to roll over and admire Steve’s sleeping form. He looks peaceful in a way he never does when he’s awake, rushing around the bakery they own together, or chasing their little terror of a daughter, Olive. He’s got one hand tucked under the pillow and the other drawn tight to his chest, and he’s snuffling softly, fighting off the last of the cold he’s had for the past week. Billy would give anything to be able to lay there longer, but he’s got plans.

Being up this early isn’t anything new for Billy. He’s the head baker at the bakery, so usually, by this time, he’s already been up and at it for a couple of hours. Today’s different though. It’s Valentine’s Day, and his plan is to give Steve a day of ultimate relaxation. He’s arranged for their second in command at the shop to take care of the morning bake, and he’s bribed Max and Lucas with a month of free cupcakes to watch Olive this evening, after daycare lets out for the day, so he can take Steve out to eat somewhere that doesn’t serve chicken nuggets or have a costumed mascot. It’s a high price to pay, but it’s worth it.

He only has about ten minutes before Olive will be up and barging into their room, jumping on the bed and shouting for daddy to wake up, so acting fast, he throws on a pair of sweats and runs to the bathroom to go for a quick piss before heading to Olive’s room to intercept her.

“Poppa!” she cries, her sweet voice still thick with sleep, making his heart melt as it always does.

“Quiet voice, remember?” Billy whispers, burying his nose in her nest of wild curls, almost identical to his own.

She nods, her voice solemn as she whispers “Don’t wake up daddy” in return. They’d went over this in the days prior, Billy promising that if she stayed quiet and let Steve sleep, they would swing by the bakery for donuts for breakfast before Billy dropped her off at daycare. He’s proud that she’s trying hard to keep up her end of the bargain.

He gets them both ready, and then he quickly writes Steve a note, letting him know what’s going on, and then he and Olive head out. He pulls her in her red wagon, and as she babbles on about the dog they pass and the bird in the neighbours yard, Billy gets lost in thought, thinking about everything that’s led he and Steve here.

It hasn’t been an easy road to walk down, to say the very least. First, it had been their own stupid selves keeping them apart, both too stubborn to admit that what they felt for each other was more than a friendship blossoming in the final months of Steve’s senior year of high school.

When they finally managed to both pull their heads out of their asses and explore their growing feelings, the Mindflayer had come along and turned what should have been a summer of love and lust into a hellish nightmare, Billy fighting for his life in the hospital as Steve sat by his bedside, holding his hand and sobbing quietly, praying to a god that he didn’t even believe in that Billy would be ok.

Billy did pull through, but that didn’t mean he was ok. Barely a month out of the hospital, Billy found himself back there, this time with Steve in the bed next to him, after they were caught kissing on the street corner, careless in their young love, by Neil Hargrove.

Hopper offered to chase Neil out of Hawkins, but instead, Billy and Steve decided that they were going to be the ones to leave, heading out west, to San Diego, as soon as they were well enough to go. It wasn’t all rainbows and roses in the sunshine state though. Their college years were tough, both of them working multiple jobs to put themselves through school. They had little time to spend together, and that combined with Steve’s father near constantly bribing him to return to Indiana and work for him, which caused Billy to worry that Steve was going to pick money and job security over him, put a lot of strain on their relationship.

Steve’s reassurances that he would always choose Billy did little to tamp down Billy’s concerns, and only a year out of college, the strain of everything got to be too much and they split, and Steve did return home to work for his father for a time, a self fulfilling prophecy.

It was devastating for both of them, Billy sick with grief as he watched Steve back the moving van out of the driveway, and Steve almost driving off the road, barely able to see through his tears, but they’d both convinced themselves that this was for the best.

Months went by, and they both tried to rebuild their lives, difficult as it was without their better halves. Steve found therapy, not in an office, but at Hopper and Joyce’s small kitchen table, drinking tea late into the night as he spilled all his fears and regrets, his insecurities, and how deeply his love for Billy still ran, in spite of all the challenges they had.

Billy found his love of baking, working through cakes and muffins, cookies and pies, before trying every kind of bread known to man. He also found a renewed love of surfing, spending every early morning that he wasn’t working in a small bakery downtown out on the ocean.

He talked to the waves, working through the fears and anxiety swirling in his mind. He also talked to the other surfers as they dried off on the shore, let them talk him into going to a party, where he drank too much, as he was known to do when he was nervous.

He found himself in bed that night with a beautiful girl, Kathleen, letting the drinks in his system falsify passion for one night. Just one night and they would part as friends, both of them moving on, her back to LA for her last year of college, and Billy back together with Steve after a lot of heartfelt discussions and promises to do better this time around.

Armed with an investment from Steve’s parents, who ultimately just wanted their son to be happy, Billy and Steve purchased the bakery that Billy was working at when the owner fell ill, and his family decided it was too much to try to keep it going.

All was well for a time, both men falling back into their relationship and into their roles as business owners. They were happier and more in love than ever when they received a call from Kathleen, pregnant with no desire to be a mother, but wanting to give Billy the chance to parent if he wanted it, a chance he might not otherwise get.

He did, both he and Steve did. Wonderful, sweet, loving Steve, who immediately accepted Olive as his own, and vowing that she would grow up feeling nothing but love. He’d made good on that vow, they both had, the three of them the most solid family unit Billy had ever known.

Things weren’t always perfect. They would argue over how to parent Olive, or how to run the business, or have petty squabbles over who’s turn it was to do the dishes or run the laundry. Love is a battlefield, but they would never stop fighting for their love.

Dropping Olive off at daycare, Billy raced home, eager to get back to Steve and start their day together, love and warmth filling his heart.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrovelovefest2024 #harringrovelovefest #chrisbitchtree writes #tw child abuse

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dilf-whore · 2 years

Text

my kind of girl (part 1)

pairing: billy hargrove x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers! , a little fluff (?), i’m not sure really, some mentions of bullying

summary: you grow closer and closer with the redhead you tutor... and maybe with her stepbrother too

A/N: i’m back! i’m sorry i was gone for so long so many shit has happen and i lost motivation to do stuff. i hope you guys like this series, i’ll be posting the next part soon. please do let me know if you want to be tagged to the next parts! 𓆩♡𓆪. send in you requests as well! also this is not proofread.

requested: no

requests are OPEN

masterlist

・°☆

“Hi! Y/N Y/L/N? is that right?” a redhead girl approached you, hugging her skateboard. You assume she’s a middle-schooler, seeing her wary eyes as she enter the high school campus. You nod.

She sighs in relief, her body relaxing a little. “I heard that you do tutoring? Are you still available to tutor another student?” she asks.

“Actually, I’m not teaching anyone as of the moment so I have all the time after school to tutor” You say.

“Oh that’s great! I’m Maxine Mayfield by the way, but please call me Max. Will you be free today after school? So you can coordinate with my parents? and hopefully start today” Max rambles, fidgeting the hem of her jacket.

“Sure!” you smile.

She pulls a crumpled piece of paper and a pen in the pocket of her bag. She lifts her knee and put his skateboard on top, writing her details.

Handing out the crumpled paper to you, “4819 Cherry Lane, I’ll see you at 6. You can eat dinner there”.

"Alright see you!” you say as your wave each other goodbye.

・°☆

You turn your car at the house with the number 4819, and see a blue camaro in front looks familiar you thought. You park beside the shiny car and made your way to the front door.

Dusting off your pants and making small fixes on your shirt. But before you could even knock on the door, a tall blonde man barged outside the door, startling you. You watched him approach his car in disbelief, didn’t even bother to apologize or even look at you.

As he opened the driver’s seat, you took a good look at him. It’s Billy Hargrove

“Hi! You must be Y/N? I’m Neil and sorry about my son. You know, just a little misunderstanding” A man, wearing glasses interrupted your thoughts.

“Oh y-yes that’s right” you reply.

“Please come in”

He leads you to the dining table, and there you see a woman, who looks like Max. And of course, Max who’s smiling excitedly at you. “Hi!” she waves at you.

You sat down beside Max, handing out to you the roasted chicken.

“So how much do you charge and what do you teach?” The woman asked.

“I charge $3 per hour, and I usually teach middle-schoolers and sometimes those in pre-school and elementary. I teach all subjects most of the time” you say.

“Wow that’s really impressive. We’re also good with your price, can you start today?” Neil asked.

“Yup!” you reply.

・°☆

Max brings you to her room and grabbed a spare chair for you.

“So you and Billy are siblings?” you wondered.

“Uhm no, he’s my stepbrother and an asshole” she replied, emphasizing the word stepbrother.

You nod as you take a seat beside her.

“Before we start, is it okay if they pay you like every end of the week? my mom and stepdad are usually gone, so yeah” Max asks as she look through notebook.

“Sure no problem” you reply.

・°☆

An hour and a half has passed, and you see 8:03 on the clock. You look at Max who just finished the activity you gave her on Physics. She gives you her paper, a little scared.

Giving a small pat on her shoulder you reassure, “don’t be nervous Max, you can do it. Besides I’m here to teach and guide you every step of the way”

After checking her work, you gave her a wide smile and a thumbs up.

“Good job! you only made three mistakes but that’s a huge improvement. I’m so proud of you” you cheer.

Max sits up straight, energy filling her body. She claps her hands excitedly like a little kid, “Oh my god! I did it! Thank you Y/N, you’re so smart”

“I told you you can do it! and there you have it the end of our first session! So, I’ll see you tomorrow? same time?” you ask.

“Yup, see you!” she reply.

You stand up and help Max tidy up her table. Piling up pieces of paper, picking up books and putting them inside the girl’s bag. You hear a loud roar of a car outside which startled the both of you.

“He’s back” Max says, rolling her eyes.

・°☆

You both go outside the room, and hear soft giggles. You and Max go further and see Billy with Carol, arm around her waist, entering the household.

You made eye contact with Carol who’s looking you up and down with disgust. i want to gauge this bitch’s eye out you thought. God how much you loathe Carol, boosting her self-esteem by making fun of other people, judging them as if she’s perfect. You were never really made fun or judged by her, (not until now) but you are aware of how poorly she treats other students in school.

“Who are you?” Billy asks annoyed.

“She’s Y/N, my tutor. And if you don’t mind, get out of the fucking way” Max replies, motioning the pair to move aside.

She grabs you by the shoulder and quickly bring you to your car. And you swear you felt eyes staring at you from behind as you go out.

Billy watches as the girls left the house, checking you out of course.

she’s pretty

“I’m so sorry about him, I assure you he won’t be around during our tutoring sessions”

“It’s okay Max, no need to apologize” you reassure.

You step in your car and bid your goodbyes.

Well that was something

・°☆

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove headcannons #stranger things headcannons #dacre montgomery

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billlydear · 1 year

Text

pairing: billy hargrove x steve harrington / WC: 4501

summary: based on this post by @ariesbilly (i was anon), el shops rather creatively for billy's birthday and steve has some things to say about his new look

this will be crossposted on AO3 as soon as i've got the time to set up a new account there. i hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving some feedback! also, i've got a harringroveson spidey/venom au in the works, so please let me know if you'd like to see that :-)

Billy’s genuinely, truly concerned when Jim pulls him aside at his little birthday dinner, and not just because he’s still a tiny bit wary around the man. He hasn’t done anything awful yet, so far there’s not a bone in his body that resembles his dad’s, but Billy’s lived with Neil all his life, and Jim only a few months. He’s getting better, but he’s not there yet.

“Listen,” Jim murmurs, taking the hand he’d used to usher Billy into the kitchen off of his arm. Billy appreciates it, it’s like Jim knows he doesn’t like being grabbed; like he pays attention to Billy’s comfort.

“She’s come a long way,” Jim praises El, “-but gift giving for anyone but Max is… hard. She just shops for herself, it’s like-” Jim rubs an exasperated hand over the scruff on his chin, leaned up against the kitchen counter while Billy leans in slightly to hear his low voice, “It’s like she finds something she likes. And since she likes the person she’s giving it to, she equates the two. ‘Thinks that whatever she likes, they’ll like too. That’s why I drink out of that glittery cup every morning,” Jim gestures to the tumbler currently drying on the rack, ‘BFF’ written in white loopy letters on the plastic, “She’s got the spirit, just not the know-how. And I was really trying to get her to branch out for you, I took her to the mall but she beelined for Claire’s, and-” Jim sighs, shooting a cautious glance back to the living room where the girls are waiting with their gifts, “Just- please act like you like ‘em. If you want, I’ll give you the receipt, and you can return them for cash, just- humor her. Please.”

“Okay,” Is all Billy says, really all he can think of saying, and Jim reaches out to pat his bicep.

“Thanks,” His shoulders slump in relief, “Alright, birthday boy, let’s get going.”

Billy’s used to birthday gifts, but not nice ones. If he was lucky, he’d get gas money for the week from his dad, but that’s only because Susan insisted on acknowledging the day. Gifts have always been an obligation, never a gesture, so sitting on the couch in front of three tissue-paper-stuffed bags is a bit daunting for the man.

“Mine first,” Max demands, pushing her bag forward. Billy sends her what he hopes she perceives as a smile, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. They’ve gotten a lot better with each other now that Neil’s not goading Billy anymore, and Billy’s glad for it.

Inside there’s a gift card to a surf shop he’d worked at one summer back in California. He doesn’t even know if there’s anything on it - for all he knows, she found it in a box of his old stuff - but just seeing the logo of the place makes him nostalgic, and his barely-smile blooms into an unbridled one. The gift of memory is one he didn’t know he’d appreciate this much.

“Damn,” He huffs out a laugh, plucking the thin plastic out of the tissue, “Where’d you find this?”

“I wrote to my grandma,” Max confesses, “There’s 50 bucks on there, but for the record, all I sent her to put on there was 20.”

Billy remembers Max’s grandma; they’d visited her once. She was awesome, but the kind of awesome that made parents distrust her, and contact was lost after the move to Hawkins. The old lady had crammed Billy and Max into the back of her cluttered bug to get ice cream after Neil and Susan had gone to bed, and it was nice for Billy to hear she was still doing well.

“Thanks,” Billy laughs, almost a scoff as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. She pretends to hate it, maybe she does a little, but she lets him, which is like another birthday gift: Annoying Privileges.

He sees a flash of black as he puts the gift card back in the tissue, and it explains why the tiny plastic was wrapped so excessively.

Don’t show Hopper, the note reads, with an arrow down, so he discretely peels away the paper to find three cartons of cigarettes beneath it. He’ll worry about how she got them later, for now he shoots her a smirk that she returns.

“Alright, mine’s kinda-” Jim fumbles for his bag, “-tied into hers. Here, kid.”

The tissue crinkles under Billy’s fingers, and he peers down into the blue bag to see a paper.

He pulls it out, squinting at the fine print.

It’s a hotel booking. A hotel in California, shit, right by the beach.

“I already called you off of work,” Jim smiles at Billy, “It’s about a month from now. Only condition is you take the girls with you, they’ve got their own room and we’ll send ‘em with gas money.”

Max’s grin is bright, and Billy knows this is just as much of a gift for her as it is for him. His chest feels tight, like each word on the page had sucked air out of his lungs until there was none left, and now he’s struggling to breathe. He’s wanted to go back since the moment he left, but his dad never would have let him, and moving in with Jim and El then immediately fleeing the state seemed rude, so he’s grateful for the push. He doesn’t even know how to begin thanking Jim, so he starts with the words themselves.

“Thank you,” Billy croaks, trying not to let a gush of emotions overwhelm him. “Seriously, I-” His voice wavers and he clamps his mouth shut, looking down and pinching his fingers along the folded crease of the paper to thin it down even more, “Thank you, Jim.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jim reaches out again, gives him that little pat pat to the bicep instead of trying to hug him. Billy thinks just for that, he will let Jim hug him next time.

Once Billy’s regained his composure and only let one gruff sniffle slip, El is handing over her bag.

“Mine was not as much money as theirs,” She looks serious, like Billy’s going to backhand her for not renting them an RV for the trip, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jim starts, ready to console her and teach her an etiquette lesson, but Billy lets out a weak chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, El.” He tugs at the tissue paper, “One time I wrote I.O.U. on a piece of paper for Max’s birthday.”

El’s brows furrow at the unfamiliar phrase, and Max leans in, “It means I owe you, like, ‘I owe you one’. He didn’t get me anything.”

“I offered you something,” Billy gripes, pausing in his unwrapping efforts, “Not my fault you chucked it out.”

“Oh, no,” Max laughs, “I still have it. But I wasn’t gonna waste it on arcade tokens. I’m gonna make it count, you’re gonna bail me out of a bad party or lie to the cops about-”

She reconsiders, looking at Hopper who’s stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowed at her, “-Nothing. Lying to cops is bad.”

“Nice save,” Billy deadpans, ducking his head back down towards the bag. The tissue inside is messy, he can tell El did it herself.

Beneath the first layer of tissue, the stuff crumpled up to give the present volume, there’s six individually wrapped packages. Billy’s stomach does a little flip; call it nerves, call it endearment, but whatever it is, he reaches for the first package without paying it any mind.

His fingers peel at the tape sticking it all together, and his strong grip rips the tissue. He goes with it, tearing into the gift, and a purple plastic card falls into his hand. It’s punched in two places near the middle, and inside each hole is an earring. They’re- not his style.

They’re studs, little balls of gel in rainbow colors with squishy spikes sticking out of them. They honestly look like something a kindergartener would make with a hot glue gun, but there’s an expectant smile on El’s face and Billy finds himself smiling back at her, genuinely so.

“Thanks, El,” He flips the package over, price tag ripped off messily and silver backings staring at him, “These are cool.”

“I know you like earrings. There’s more,” She prompts him, the section of her hair that she’s tied up bouncing as she leans forward enthusiastically, “Open them.”

“Okay,” He laughs, setting the earrings aside. The second package yields another pair, this time two pieces of bread with little smiley faces on them, one painted brown for peanut butter and the other purple for jelly.

“That’s cute,” Billy laughs breathily, “That’ll go good with my purple button up.”

“Mhm,” El nods, hair once again bouncing, “That’s what I thought.”

As Billy expects, each package contains a pair of earrings. He gets tiny springs, a gradient of pink to purple to blue covering the curved metal, and they look like they’d be permanently damaged if he stretched them out even once. Then a pair of jellyfish-inspired ones, a clay head with a smile on its face connected by metal rings to all of the tentacles dangling below. Next are lollipops, stiff sticks leading into plastic that’s swirled in design and shaped like a bear’s head with yet another smiley face. Each little black curve on the earrings’ faces only makes his own grow. The fifth pair are meant to look like goldfish, suspended in resin that fills the bowl to make it look like they’re swimming in water. It’s the most intricate pair of earrings he’s ever seen, he’ll give Claire that. The final pair is much bigger than the others, and when he unwraps it, a pom-pom sticks out.

They’re big puffballs, tie-dyed pink and purple, connected to a peace sign stud that goes through his ear. They’re obnoxious, something you’d only see on a child whose grandparents had bought the biggest pair of earrings they could find because their vision was too poor to appreciate any smaller designs. Nevertheless, Billy pops the squishy backing off of one of them, and sticks it between his teeth. He slips his own earring out of his ear, and tucks it into the breast pocket of the shirt he’s wearing. He sticks the puffball into his ear right then and there, and El’s grin is almost unbearably wide.

“It looks pretty,” She gushes, and Billy laughs.

“Thank you, El.” He gives her the obligatory brotherly hair ruffle as well, but she looks honored compared to Max’s exasperation. In leaning forwards to reach her, the metal point of the second earring digs into Billy’s palm where he’s holding the card still, and he glances down at it thoughtfully.

“Here,” He thinks fast, plucking the backing off of it and handing it to El, “Let’s match.”

She looks at it wide-eyed, caught off guard, “You want me to wear the other one?”

“Duh,” He nods, hand still outstretched, “How else are people gonna know who bought them for me?”

She’s more than happy to snatch the second earring from him, sliding it into her own pierced ear and shivering slightly at the feeling of the fluff brushing against her skin.

“Alright,” Jim claps, a loud, striking sound, “You guys look great. Cake time?”

“Cake time,” Max agrees, already rising to her knees to stand and head for the kitchen, “Chocolate, Billy, your favorite.”

Billy’s all Thank you’d out. Not because he’s not thankful for this, because he’s more than that, but because he’s said it so many times today that the words are starting to lose their meaning, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be insincere, so he’ll save the ‘Thank you’s for when they really count.

Max and El settle on the floor in front of the tv to watch the movie they’ve picked out, clearly one that Jim hadn’t seen until now.

“Oh, not Terminator,” He reaches for the television to shut it off, but both girls scramble to fight him off, “It’s rated R, girls!”

“It’s Billy’s favorite,” Max huffs, and that’s not true, but he knows nothing in the movie will shock her, and El grew up being bounced around dimensions, so she probably won’t lose any sleep over a bit of blood.

“It’s true,” Billy drawls settling back on the couch with his cake and his beer (that Jim only reluctantly handed him because it’s his birthday), “But it’s fine, Jim, we don’t have to watch what I want, they can turn on My Little Pony or some shit.”

Jim wonders briefly how he’s been outsmarted by two tweens and a teenager. If he says no, he’s the asshole that ruins Billy’s birthday. If he says yes, the girls are going to see gratuitous shots of naked Arnold Schwarzenegger that he’d rather them not witness.

“You cover your eyes for the first scene,” Jim finally concedes, narrowing his eyes at Max and El, “I mean it, no peeking or I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay,” They agree, already far too amused for Jim’s liking, and Max turns to grin mischievously at Billy. It’s nice, he thinks, to do dumb shit with her. Like real siblings.

The movie starts, and Jim’s a bit too preoccupied eagle-eyeing the girls to make sure they’re not seeing anything raunchy to notice that Billy’s paying more attention than he ought to be. But once the man straightens back up so does Billy, mentally so, and turns his attention to Jim when he leans over towards Billy.

“Hey,” Jim’s whisper is gruff, but El doesn’t hear, “Thanks for that. She’s really happy.”

“No problem,” Billy admits, “They’re… different, but they’re kinda cool.”

Jim laughs, and Billy gets the sense that Jim doesn’t think he’s being sincere, but really, he is. The earrings themselves aren’t kinda cool, a year ago he’d rather have pitched himself into the quarry than wear rainbow-colored springs dangling from his ears, or a smiley piece of peanut butter toast, but what’s kinda cool is that someone gave them to him because they thought he’d like them; because they like him.

What’s kinda cool is love, Billy figures out that night, and his cake tastes a little sweeter because of it.

El doesn’t usually accompany Billy to work at the auto shop, but that’s only because he leaves too early for her to be awake yet. She’s recently discovered sleeping in, and sometimes she’s not awake before two in the afternoon. Now, though, she’s bursting with excitement for the California trip, even though it’s not for another month. Billy hadn’t slept with the puffball earring in, but he’d put it right back on this morning, and so had El. They’re sitting behind the counter now, planning an itinerary for the trip he’s not too stressed about, because he knows El will lose the paper before they leave in a month.

“And we have to go to In-n-Out,” She decides, “I know those are in California.”

“Yeah,” Billy laughs, “They’re not that good. I mean, I like ‘em, but there’s good burger places everywhere. They have these palm trees though,” He moves his hands to cross over each other, “They cross like an ‘x’, it’s pretty cool. My friend tried to climb one once, we got kicked out.”

El giggles, and her eyes wrinkle at the corners with the expression. Billy likes it, he wonders if his own eyes scrunch when he laughs. But he doesn’t do it very often, and especially not in front of a mirror, so he might never know.

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, so Billy turns his attention to their customer log instead. There’s a man coming by in two hours to pick up his car, but the repairs are complete, so Billy doesn’t have to do anything about it. And there’s another customer coming at five for an oil change, but it’s only eight in the morning. He hears the scrape of wheels on gravel, and he cranes his neck to see over the reception desk and out the door.

Fuck. It’s a red beemer, one he knows almost better than his own car because of how frequently he’d crammed his camaro in beside it in the high school parking lot. It’s Steve Harrington’s car, and that means Steve Harrington came with it.

Billy tugs on the hem of his tank, tightening the shirt over his chest. It’s not that he wants to look good for Steve, it’s just- well, no, that’s it. The banter he’d shared with Steve over their time at Hawkins High was the most tension he’d felt in his entire life, and it came at a time when he sought thrill and excitement the most; apparently being sweat-covered, shirtless opponents on the basketball court does things to a man’s head. He’s not naive enough to think he’s gonna be able to sweep the guy off of his feet with one suave remark, not when just last week Max had somehow convinced the man to give her a ride back home from Jim’s place after a sleepover, and Steve had seen Billy bleary-eyed, messy-haired, and pajama-clad. He’d tried to own it, leaned back on the couch with his legs spread, one arm up on the back of the couch and exposed by the shirt he was wearing as he nodded with a lazy grin at Steve, ‘Morning, Harrington’. If he’d squinted, he could see a bit of pink coloring Steve’s cheeks. But a success or not, the experience was embarrassing, and he’s glad that he’s a little more put together today.

Billy forgets just how put together he is today. He feels the soft brush of the fuzzy earring against his neck right as Steve starts towards the store, and his stomach drops.

He has a very important choice to make.

He can take the earring out, giving him a better chance at this coy little game they have going, and subsequently insult his new sister, or, he could leave it in, puff up his chest with pride, and greet Steve with confidence, ultimately risking his win.

He almost tears his ear from how hard he rips the earring out.

“Harrington,” Billy drawls, “Car trouble?”

“Battery’s dead,” The man huffs, and there’s sweat beading at Steve’s hairline, “I had to push’er down the street, I was getting groceries.”

Billy feels like a cartoon character; he almost audibly gulps at the thought of Steve muscling his car down the road. He wonders if Steve could see his Adam’s apple bobbing if he really did dry swallow. He wonders if Steve would watch.

“Tough luck,” Billy sends Steve a lazy grin, passing the sign-in book over the counter with a pen, “Just fill that out, I’ll get your service started.”

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, “Got an estimate?”

“Depends,” Billy shrugs, “I might do you a favor and replace those ugly seats you’ve got, too. That’ll cost extra.”

“Like your car’s hot shit,” Steve scoffs, but his tone isn’t demeaning, and Billy’s chest does that weird tight thing again when he realizes they’ve advanced to friendly banter, “Do you know how ugly that blue and yellow license plate looks against the blue of your car?”

He laughs, but before Billy can quip back, say that it’s California grade, that he’d rather die than replace it, the door to the back opens up, and El comes out.

“Steve!” She smiles sweetly, “Is your car broken?”

“Yeah,” He laments, eyeing her accessory, “Woah, crazy earring.”

“Billy has one, too.” She brags, then notices it’s missing from his ear. Billy’s stiffened where he’s rifling through the desk drawers for a form to give Steve, and before he can make any excuses, El spots the puffball where it’s fallen to the floor.

“Oh!” She lunges for it, handing it to Billy with a sweet smile, “It fell out. Here it is.”

Billy has another choice to make.

Scoff at her, say ‘nice one’, and tell her to put her earring back in. Or, take it from her and embarrass himself in front of Steve.

This time, he decides she’s ultimately more important.

“Thanks, El.” He grins at her, taking the puffball from her hand and hooking it expertly through his ear. It dangles against his neck, and he passes the form over to Steve who’s looking between the two of them with some sort of guarded amusement.

“Fill this out, too.” Billy instructs, “And I’ll start on your car.”

“O-kay,” Steve complies, more of that amusement painting his features as he ducks his head to fill out the form, “Pink looks good on you, Hargrove.”

Billy shuts the door to the back room as a response. He feels like punching the wall, because did that mean ‘good’ as in good? Or good as in ‘ridiculous’? He’s well aware Steve had a mean streak in high school, and Billy isn’t interested in being bullied.He’s never worried about being bullied by his peers before, he was always on top. Now it’s different, this isn’t high school and he doesn’t have backup boys to make his posse. It’s a one-on-one fight, and Steve’s got the advantage. And- and if it did mean good, what’s he supposed to do with that information? Wear a pink shirt the next time he sees Steve? Go as Pink Panther for halloween? He considers just about everything but dying his hair, mind swirling with possibilities.

He starts on Steve’s car to distract himself, and he barely manages to gather the courage to take his shirt off to push Steve’s beemer into the garage like he’d originally planned. He still does, of course. But it’s a hard decision to make.

“Steve,” El steps out from behind the counter, walking over to where Steve’s flipping through an old Highlights that Billy’s boss keeps there for kids, “What did you get Billy for his birthday?”

The man flounders, “Uh, when’s his birthday?”

El’s brows furrow, “It was yesterday. You didn’t get him anything?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, El. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to, though, ‘probably didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“But friends give each other birthday presents.” She insists, “Why didn’t you?”

“He’s not my friend,” Steve grimaces slightly, but backtracks when El only gets more scandalized, “We- I… Ugh,’ He groans, rubbing a hand down his face, “We, like, hated each other in high school or something. I think he’s only nice to me now ‘cause he has to be, we’re all friendly, y’know?”

“Billy likes you,” El promises, “That’s why he comes out of his room when he knows you’re coming over. And why he always takes us to get ice cream. He likes seeing you.”

“Uh, I think-” Steve stammers, heart pounding so viciously he can hear it, “That’s probably… not what that means. Hey, um, do you have any water I could have? I’m really thirsty from pushing my car.”

He’s out from under her scrutinous gaze for long enough to compose himself, tamping down any hope she might have given him. It doesn’t help that he’s first heard Billy’s genuine laugh today, and the vision of the man’s bright eyes, scrunched and wrinkled at the corners have been plaguing him ever since. Things need to stop piling up, he decides.

When she gets back she sits in the chair beside him, one leg bent beneath her and the other firmly planted on the floor, “You should get him a birthday present.”

Steve hums, bringing the cup she hands him to his lips to buy him time to respond. Eventually, he settles on, “I’ll try to find something,” and she seems to like that answer, so she lets it go.

“I got him earrings,” She explains, and pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place in Steve’s head, “The ones that he’s wearing now. And five other pairs.”

“Wow,” Steve nods, feigning awe even though he knows Jim probably paid for them himself, “That was nice of you. He liked ‘em?”

“Yes,” She nods, “He likes earrings. And he said he’s going to wear them with me when we go to California.”

“California,” Steve echoes, brows raised, “That’s nice. When are you going?”

“In a month,” El recites, “Billy’s from California.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, eyes drawn to Billy’s framed employee picture on the wall, noticing the tan adorning the smooth skin of his handsome face, “I know.”

“Okay,” Billy turns to look at the girls in his backseat, bright smiles on both of their faces, “Gas money?”

“Check,” Max slides him a wad of cash, and so does El.

“Snacks?” Billy pulls his wallet out, stuffing the bills inside.

“Check!” El takes over this time, a plastic bag in her hand that’s filled with enough ziploc bags of goldfish to last them halfway through the road trip.

“Bags?”

“Check,” Max jabs a thumb towards the camaro’s trunk, “We didn’t forget our suitcases, Billy.”

“If you did, and I hadn’t asked, you would have blamed me,” Billy narrows his eyes at his stepsister, “Don’t make me push you out of the moving car.”

What can he say: things are better, they’re not perfect. She knows he’s joking, though, she sticks out her tongue in response.

“I have one more thing,” El calls, effectively breaking up Billy and Max’s banter. The two look curiously at her, and she passes Billy an envelope, thick towards the bottom left corner.

“It’s a late birthday present.” She informs him, “Open it. It’s for the trip.”

“El,” Billy tears at the envelope with a confused furrow in his brow, “You got me stuff for my birthday. Why more?”

“It’s not from me,” She admits, “Just open it.”

The envelope was sealed well, by whoever sealed it. Billy all but mangles the paper to remove its contents, and when he does, a pair of earrings falls out, mounted on a purple plastic card. Claire’s.

There’s a pink and white striped surfboard on the left side, and a glitter-covered palm tree on the left. There’s a note inside too, and Billy peels it apart much more cautiously than he had the envelope.

Billy,

Happy birthday. Enjoy California.

- Steve

P.S: I wasn��t kidding. You look good in pink.

Billy nearly rips the earring card trying to wrench the surfboard off. Once he gets it out, he slides it into his ear, passing the palm tree back to El and grinning at the girls through his rear-view mirror. He admires the way that the earring looks against his tanned skin, and- oh, look at that; his eyes do scrunch when he smiles.

“Ready?” He raises a brow, sunglasses perched on his head and lost in his curls in wait of the California sun.

“Ready,” They confirm, and El’s nod sends the palm tree earring swinging beside her face.

Billy revs the engine, and it’s never been a happier sound, “California, here we come.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove fanfiction #billy x steve #billy hargrove #billy and el #billy and max #billy and hopper

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

kids show up, and i get no kisses.

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,254

warnings: swearing, suggestive comments, fluffy fluff

a/n: hi!! some billy for you. this is my way of romanticizing a holiday i’m not totally over the moon for, but this is how i wish it’d be. if you don’t celebrate it, you can skip this, or imagine eating a whole bunch of stuff you like, or ignore me as a whole. this is also me encouraging byler. i hope you enjoy it!! <33

————

Billy's palm was warm where it rested on your bare thigh, callouses scratching back and forth from time to time. He'd made himself at home, his legs over yours, sticking where skin met skin. He had on those little green shorts despite the fact that it was freezing outside.

It was one of those days where neither of you had to work, and it was too cold for him to go outside. A day where he insisted on being on top of you the whole time, insisted on being all over you. Not that it bothered you. You did live together after all.

Billy was staring at the television, some rerun of something on. You thought he was paying attention, but his words told you he'd really been off thinking away.

"Are we supposed to, like, do Thanksgiving or somethin'?"

This would be your first major holiday living together, and honestly, you'd thought about it, but you weren't really sure. You certainly didn't want to go home, and that wasn't going to happen for Billy either.

You turned to look at him, light from the tv creating shadows on the slopes and plains of his face. He looked so pretty. "Do you wanna? Like eat together maybe?"

"Hm. Maybe?" Billy rubbed his nose. You reached over him to pull the chain on the lamp, room darkening from the now fully set sun. He set a hand on your back to steady you, but when you moved back he pulled you fully in his lap, setting your forearms on his shoulders.

"Did you celebrate it at home?" You questioned tentatively, swiping a thumb over his freckles and giggling lightly because of how much you liked them. He wouldn't even scold you for your fawning anymore.

"Mom cooked when I was a kid, but clearly that went to shit. Susan fucked something up on accident once and then Neil just made us go out to eat after that, or eat leftovers. I think we might've gone to like a grandparents or something when I was really young? I don't know."

"Why don't we figure something out, yeah? Pick stuff out. Maybe we could have Max over?"

Billy contemplated, dramatically taking your face in his hands. "Okay," he drawled.

————

That's how you found yourself in the grocery store, list in hand as you searched through the potatoes for some that looked promising. You found some just as Billy returned with the peas he'd wanted.

Moving to another section, you looked through the pie crusts before glancing up to ask Billy for help. You caught him in the act of racing down the aisle, body hoisted up on the cart, leg pushing him off of the tile until he reached the end cap and spun around. Clearly he was bored.

He caught your gaze, tossing his head back and laughing because you'd seen him. But you didn't mind when he got like this. Any chance for him to release some of that childhood energy was good. Deserved.

"Need somethin' baby?" He put his hands on his hips, out of breath.

"You want pumpkin or apple pie?"

"Pumpkin."

"Good. Wasn't gonna make apple anyhow."

He grinned at you, fixing the collar on his jacket, brown leather worn in from years of wear. "What else do we need? I can get whatever you want."

He peered over your shoulder at the list, reading the things you hadn't marked off yet. "Milk, eggs, gravy. Come on sweet thing." Billy placed one hand on the cart, reaching the other out to take yours and place it on his belt so you could grab hold. "I'm on it."

————

Billy was finishing deviled eggs when there was a knock at the door followed by, "I'm coming in! Please be decent!"

You laughed over the stove where you were finishing mashed potatoes. Max entered the kitchen along with Lucas and Will.

Billy wiped his hands off. "Hi boys. Hi shitbird." You turned in time to catch their hug—short, but kind, and followed by a yank of Max's pigtail.

Will made his way over to you. "Smells good." He hugged you sweetly and then snuck a roll. Lucas followed, and then Max.

"Are we having macaroni?" She asked, hopeful.

"Your brother made it." You looked over at the timer on the counter. "It's almost done." She laughed in triumph before offering her help, which you declined, telling the three of them to do whatever.

Billy cut up the turkey into thin slices, so that it was "fall-y apart-y" the way you liked, and then the five of you sat on the floor around the coffee table in the living room to eat, the Macy's parade on in the background.

Will sat to the left of you, Billy on your right. You took this as your gateway to breach the question, knowing he recognized your home as a safe space, even though everyone knew now. You turned to him and he looked up, watery doe eyes meeting yours. But apparently, Billy was wondering the same thing as you.

"How's Mike?" He asked, looking around you, beating you to the question.

Will blushed, but smiled nonetheless. "He's good. He's really good. Finished a campaign the other night."

"Yeah? That's good."

You all drifted into varying conversations throughout your meal, Billy and Lucas talking about basketball, while you, Max, and Will critiqued the varying dance groups in the parade or talked about what they were doing on fall break.

Eventually, Billy helped you clean up while the kids set up Monopoly on the table in place of the food.

Standing in front of the fridge, rearranging the Tupperware, Billy wrapped his arms around you, snuck his warm hands under your shirt to rub at the chub of your tummy. His nails grazed your sides, making you laugh.

You shut the fridge, turning around to face him. "Something you need, Mr. Hargrove?"

His smile reached his eyes, and you reached out for his freckles again. He leaned into your touch. "Just you. And I want pie."

"'Course you do. Anything else?"

"Kisses. Kids show up, and I get no kisses, even in my own damn house. Pretty please?" He batted his lashes at you. "I've been so good today."

"Today."

He scoffed. "Rude."

You took his face in your hands and kissed him anyhow, slow and sweet, eliciting a groan from him. You pulled away, but he muttered an "Uh, uh," instead.

This time he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, before slipping it into your mouth. You pulled away this time, making him pout. "B, in case you forgot, there are minors on the premises."

He kissed your forehead. "Yeah, yeah."

Speaking of, said minors joined the two of you in the kitchen and you doled out pie to each of them. Leaving you and Billy alone again, you watched as he spooned out cool whip on either of your slices. He rubbed your nose, ridding his index finger of the creamy substance he'd gotten on it.

He used it as an excuse to lick it off, swiping his tongue over your nose. "Billy!" You giggled—exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for.

The five of you spent the rest of the afternoon talking about everything and nothing, whining over board games, and eating yourselves so full that there was no other choice but for all of you to nap in various locations, splayed out over whatever surface was around.

You couldn't have asked for anything better.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy stranger things #billy hargrove comfort #savannah’s fics

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silassinclair · 1 year

Text

Uh Oh! It’s Magic!

[Billy H x Fem!Reader]

Summary: Billy and his friend Tommy are on a double date. Tommy with Carol and Billy taking out one of Carol’s annoying friends Brandy. They all decided to go to a roller skating rink but when there Billy is hypnotized by a roller skater completely in her element. But she isn’t quite what she seems?

Moving to Hawkins was probably one of the dumbest fucking things that Neil has ever done. I don't know why he chose to move to this hick town but there is no stopping that insufferable piece of shit when he makes a decision. The house where he, I, Max, and Susan live is small as shit. Whenever I can I am out of the house as much as possible.

This very moment I'm arm in arm with some blonde chick named Brandy. Her and I are following Tommy H and his girlfriend Carol into the entrance of Rink-O-Mania, one of the only places in Hawkins that isn't dull and lame. Honestly I don't want to be here, I hate dates, I just want to screw Brady and leave. But it's an excuse to be out of the house so I'll take it.

"Billy I don't know how to skate, can you hold my hand when we're in there?" The dumb bitch clinging to me says looking up at me with doe eyes. Why the fuck would her and Carol want to go skating if she doesn't even know how to? Probably wants an excuse to touch me with her grimy ass hands.

The white eyeliner on her bottom lid fails to make her eyes larger, she looks like a desperate clown instead. But she has a nice bod so I'll have to put up with her shit if I want a BJ.

Putting on my signature smirk I pull her in close, "Sure thing hot stuff. I roller skated all the time in Cali so I'll help you out."

That wasn't a lie. When I was younger if I wasn't surfing I was roller skating with my Mom when the weather got bad. Some of the only enjoyable memories I have honestly.

"Hurry up lovebirds we gotta pay for our skates." Tommy says when he and Carol approach the counter. The skating rink is lit up by neon lights and It's Magic by The Cars is playing over the surrounding speakers. Not many people are here except for some kids with their folks and some teenage girls.

"Billy" Brandy says, "Help me tie my skates." She pleads with a small pout. I hide my eyeroll as I kneel down and tie her skates. Once hers are on she nearly stumbles to the floor when we're literally on carpet.

Stupid bitch.

"Woah woah," I say and hold my arms out for her, "Wouldn't want to fall yet, we're not even on the rink yet."

The girl blushes and waits for me as I tie my skates on. Once on I take her hand and help roll her to the round wood rink. Looking out at the rest of the people I see someone zoom by in my peripheral vision. Scanning the floor I see a girl. Blue bell bottom jeans, a jersey styled crop top, dangly earrings, and pristine white skates. As the music plays her body moves to the rhythm as she glides on the floor as if she were walking on water. Her flowing h/c hair frames her focused yet relaxed face.

She’s absolutely breath taking.

"Oh Billy I don't think I can do this." Brandy says next to me. "What if I fall?"

Having enough of Brandy's pick-me bullshit I turn to her with a deadpan expression.

"Then fall bitch. Now get-"

I pull myself from her acrylic nailed grip

"-off of me. You're dumb and annoying as shit. Now screw off." I skate away from her leaving her standing crookedly by the entrance to the wooden floor. Tears fall from her face and her mascara follows the flow of her pathetic tears.

Oh fucking well, boo-hoo, I have my eyes on something else now. She was annoying anyways.

"Hargrove!" Tommy calls to me, Carol holding his hand as the two skate to me from where they once were out on the rink.

"What gives man? Why's Brandy prying her skates off and crying?" He asks.

"She was annoying as shit so thanks a lot for making me take her out." I turn to Carol and say disgustingly. Carol looks down embarrassed.

"Well now you don't have a date idiot." Tommy says with an eyeroll, but I grin.

"We'll see about that." And I look to see the girl again. She's low to the rink and doing a complex skate trick to the tune of the music. Her right leg bent beneath her bottom and the other stuck out long like a half squat.

Following my eyes Tommy sees who I'm looking at.

"Oh no chance in hell dude. She's way too pretty for your whore-ass." Tommy says and punches my shoulder. But I punch him back harder causing him to whine and rub his arm.

"We'll see."

The song comes to an end and the mystery girl skates to the exit where I’m leaning on the half wall.

“You’re pretty good out there gorgeous.” I say showing my pearly white teeth, aka my secret weapons.

She turns to me with a small smile. “Thanks. I haven’t seen you skate yet.”

I chuckle lowly and roll my eyes, then explain to her about my date and how she only wanted to use me as popularity gain and for my body.

As if I didnt want to use her but still- Not that that a matters.

“Brandy McMay. She doesn’t even know her left from right.” The girl said and I laughed with her to her joke. She was 100% right.

“The name’s Billy, Billy Hargrove.” I hold my hand out for her to shake, she gingerly accepts.

“Yeah I know.”

“Well how come I haven’t seen you around at school? I would never fail to notice someone as gorgeous as you in the halls of Hick-Hawkins High.”

She blushes and crosses her arms over her exposed tummy. “I don’t really dress like this in school. Not after being made fun of by girls like Brandy. So I only express myself here at the rink.”

Poor thing. My hand goes up to brush her hair out or her face without thinking.

“Don’t listen to them sweetheart, you’re an absolute doll. A total talent if you ask me. Don’t listen to those chicks, they’re just jealous of you.”

What the fuck am I saying? Jesus Christ, this is what happens when I talk with my heart instead of my mind and dick I guess. I should do this more often.

Her eyes lock to the floor. “T-Thanks Billy… Also I’m Y/n by the way. We have Chem and World History together. I sit at the all the way back in both those classes though.”

I smile and lean in closer to bask in her scent. Smells like sweet candy with a hint of honey. What a doll.

“Well I’ll keep an eye out for you. Say, how about we hit the rink together? You and me since my date ran off?”

Before she answers she checks her wrist watch. “Sorry Billy but I have to head home before the streetlights turn on or else my brother will be pissed. But I’ll see you in school okay!”

I hide my disappointment behind a smile. “Alright, I’ll see you Monday.”

Before she leaves she pulls me into a gentle hug which I don’t have time to reciprocate before she skates off with a small wave.

Oh my god I think I just fell in love. No I just met her… That’d be weird, right?

Monday…

It’s the second class of the day, World History. I changed my seat so now I’m in the back row. I took some nerd’s seat but he didn’t have the balls to tell me it was his seat so he sat in my old one towards the middle left. The seat next to my new one is empty, and I assume that’s where Y/n sits.

This is probably the first time I’ve come to class on time. And for a girl? Let alone one I met yesterday? God I’m embarrassing.

Seconds before the bell rings a girl stumbles into the room with a heavy backpack. Her puffy sage green coat, long brown frilly skirt that goes down to her ankles, and dirty white converse. Her hood hides some of her h/c hair but her bangs peek through the front. Big round glasses adorn her face and a black scarf is wrapped snuggly around her neck hiding part of her chin.

What a basket case.

Before the teacher notices the girl comes to the back and sits next to me.

“Hey Billy.” She whispers to me and pulls her hood and scarf down. Her hair is messier than how it was done up in Saturday and glasses sit on her button nose.

This is Y/n? Holy shit.

“Y/n? I didn’t even recognize you.” I say and turn to her completely. She giggles and takes her jacket off revealing a snug grey sweater.

“Yeah I can see why, I look like that girl from The Breakfast Club huh?”

I nod with my mouth slightly parted. I myself aren’t really into the basketcase type chicks. Not so into the baggy clothes that hide their bodies. But with Y/n, god it just makes me curious. I’ve seen her rockin bod in that crop top and jeans that framed her ass oh so well. The fact that only I got to see it too gives me a new sense of pride. It’s like my own little secret.

“I probably look silly to you now huh? Not so confident as you thought.” She said lowly when she realized I haven’t said anything like the idiot I am.

I reassure her immediately, “No no sweetheart not at all. I’m just admiring how adorable you are is all…” I mumble the last bit more to myself but Y/n heard it loud and clear, her blush says so.

“Oh shut up.” She fires back quietly like a kicked puppy.

I grin and hold her hand that was atop her desk. She freezes but relaxes in my hold.

“How about I take you on a date? Maybe we could go skating?” I shoot my shot hoping she’ll say yes. Why was I even nervous she’d say no? Girls always say yes to me.

But with Y/n… It’s different. Maybe it’s because I don’t only want sex with her? God I’m going soft, but I don’t dislike it.

“Sure.” She sends me a warm smile and holds my hand back in her smaller hold. “Are you sure you want to go skating though? I’d probably leave you in the dust Billy.”

I smirk at her snark remark.

“Oh baby you haven’t even seen me skate yet, don’t let that hidden confidence get to that pretty little head of yours.”

Just then the teacher walked in meaning we couldn’t talk anymore, but that didn’t mean that Y/n and I would stop holding hands. My thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her soft hand. Every minute or so she’d look at me with a cute smile.

My leg shook not with anxiety but rather excitement. This school day couldn’t go by any slower could it?

The final bell rang and I walked Y/n out to my car. Max came by but I told her to skate home much to her disappointment, oh well shitbird, I have a hot date.

“Hey wait!” Y/n called to Maxine before she skated away. My stepsister paused and turned to my date in confusion.

“I didn’t mean to take your spot, I’ll get in the back,” Y/n then turned to me, “Cmon Billy take her home would you? The ground is wet from rain and it’ll ruin her skateboard trucks.”

Maxine perked up at the fact that Y/n even knew what trucks were. So she skipped over and hopped in the passenger seat while Y/n got in the back.

“Ugh fine.” I groaned and started the car and drove Maxine home.

The while car ride was Y/n and Maxine talking about roller skating and skateboarding.

“Yeah I tried skateboarding but I liked roller skating more, it feels more fluid for me.” Y/n said.

Maxine replied, “I totally get that, less chances to crack your skull too.”

The two girls laughed as I sulked. It took longer to get hole too since I didn’t want to drive fast and scare Y/n.

Pulling up to the house Maxine hopped out of the car and waved goodbye and Y/n sat up front.

“You’re a good brother Billy, and even a better date. And the date hasn’t even begun yet!” The girl next to me said with a smile. Said smile was contagious because I couldn’t help myself to wear one too.

“Don’t flatter me too much doll it’ll get to my head.”

Next thing you know she placed a kiss on my cheek.

“I think I like you Billy, a lot.” She said bashfully and held her hands. “I don’t want to rush this though so how about we go to the rink now yeah?”

I could still feel her lips on my cheek as I drove us to the rink. Drive by The Cars played on the radio which Y/n turned up, saying it was her favorite band.

The date was everything I hopes it would be. Y/n and I skating under the dim neon lights as music softly played. It was getting late and everyone was gone except us. And under the discoball in the center Y/n and I shared a kiss that sparked something inside me. It felt like magic coursing through my veins.

Uh oh, I think I just fell in love… That was fast.

#stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #roller skating

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billys-pretty-babe · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday, Baby

Pairings : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : Billy remembers celebrating birthdays when he was younger but once he hit 13, it felt like the other 364 days until his girlfriend came into his life and she's adament on giving him a good birthday.

Warnings : Swearing, siggestive but no explicit smut, Starcourt is briefly mentioned

Word Count : 1.3k

The clock hit midnight and Billy sighed, he was officially nineteen now and after the events of last year, he didn't expect to live to his birthday but here he is, laying next to his girlfriend as you slept peacefully, your hand resting near his pec as your head laid on his bicep.

His clock ticked next to him, the constant tick-tock tick-tock keeping him awake and he had half of a mind to throw it to the floor to get a few hours of sleep. You shifted in his one-armed hold a little, softly mumbling something and Billy looked down, "If you're gonna keep sleeping in my bed, you need to stop kicking me." Your eyes fluttered open, irises foggy with sleep as you flicked him off, making him laugh.

Billy felt an overwhelming amount of comfort, he could be as loud as he wanted without Neil getting upset. After his near-death experience, he moved out, left Hawkins and went to the next shithole town where he met you. "What time is it," you groggily asked and Billy hummed, looking at the small alarm clock next to his bed. "Ten after midnight."

You sat up quickly, "Happy birthday, baby." Billy smiled, genuinely smiled up at you as you leaned over him a little before he thanked you, his voice sweet like the cherry lollipops he kept on his bedside table. You rushed to the bathroom and Billy raised a brow as he heard the water in his sink running before you spit a few times and rushed back to him, water droplets on your lips.

He looked at you quizically and you laughed, "Wanted to give you a kiss but I had morning breath." Billy laughed because deep down he could've cared less knowing the amount of times he's kissed you in the morning without brushing his teeth was an ungodly amount, a number he doubt he could count up to. "Yeah? Is this my present?" You shook your head before pressing your lips to his and he grabbed the back of your head, deepening the kiss slightly and you guys made out for a few minutes before pulling away.

You guys stayed awake, watching the sun rise from Billy's apartment window as you both talked about anything and everything you could think of. "Okay but would you love me if I were a worm? It's not that hard of a question, William." He groaned at the usage of his real name, "Stop calling me that." "Where the hell do you get Billy from William anyways?" He laughed and he shrugged because truly, he didn't know either.

The sun was now up and Billy knew it was safe to fall asleep before he rolled over to look at you as he traced your jaw lightly. "Getting tired?" He nodded, his eyes heavy, his eyes burning from keeping them open. "Go to sleep, I'll still be here." He nodded, "You should go back to sleep too. You only slept for like an hour before you woke up." You nodded and he lifted an arm so you could lay on his pecs.

"Is this what it feels like for you when you lay on my tits?" Billy laughed, "Are you comparing my pecs to tits?" You nodded, "What cup size do you think you'd be?" Billy couldn't help but to laugh, his entire body shaking, making you shake with him before you started laughing.

"Alright, sleep time, seriously. Stop talking about my man tits." You stifled your laughter, placing your head on him again before throwing your arm and leg around him, securing yourself to him before you both dozed off for a few hours.

You both woke up around noon and the day celebrating your boy officially began, taking him to different stores in Indianapolis, offering to pay for everything but being denied at each register you guys wound up at. "You need some new jeans." Billy looked down at you as he held his bags, "You just want to see my ass." You both laughed and he walked into another store as he looked at the jeans, choosing a few and you looked around, grabbing a new denim jacket for him.

Billy walked out with an armful of different colored jeans, "Are you getting those?" He nodded, "I think I need some new shirts since mine just so happened to disappear," he said, side-eyeing you as you laughed and held his jeans, the material heavy on your arms. You followed him around the store as he grabbed different things. You guys spent the afternoon shopping and he drove back to his apartment close to six, the sky a dusky rose color with some hues of purple mixed in as the sun began to set.

You helped him take his bags to his apartment before putting them in his room. "What's for dinner?" You looked back to see Billy already stripped from his dark-wash jeans and white cotton shirt to being shirtless, in a pair of green shorts that fit him perfectly. "Um, I was gonna cook, if that's okay?" Billy nodded, "Can I help?" "You can sit at the table and look pretty." He laughed and nodded and went to walk by you before quickly kissing you and he sat down.

You moved around the kitchen, making the pasta that you knew he liked before throwing the bread into the oven. You looked in the freezer to see the small ice cream cake, big enough for the two of you to not let any go to waste. Dinner was finished cooking and you began to plate it as Billy's hands went to your hips, making you jump.

"I didn't hear you get up," you exclaimed and he laughed before kissing your temple, trailing kisses down the side of your face before nipping your jaw, "B, the food baby." He hummed, "Can I have desert before dinner?" You rolled your eyes and finished plating his food and grabbed a fork and handed him the plate, "No, now go eat. You'll need the energy." He looked at you, brow raised, "Oh? Might need another plate to eat then," he said, laughing as he walked back to the table and you shook your head, trying to fight the smile as you made your own plate and sat across from him as you both ate, talking about how the day was.

Dinner passed after an hour and Billy helped you with the dishes, "Bedroom?" You shook your head, "Not yet, I have one more thing." He nodded, leaning against the counter with the dish towel over his broad shoulder and you grabbed the cake from the freezer and two forks. You opened it, "Close your eyes." You heard him huff, "I'm going to assume your eyes are shut." He laughed and it made your heart speed up a little.

You shut the freezer and walked over to him with the cake and forks, "Open." He opened his eyes and looked down at you and you held the cake out to him, "Um, I'd sing but I'm trying to preserve my voice." Billy laughed, "You'll be singing for me soon, it's okay." Your eyes widened a little and he laughed and put the cake on the counter and you both began eating it, not cutting slices because there was no need for it. You had your fill and quickly washed the fork and Billy did the same and put the cake back in the freezer.

He walked to you and hugged you tightly, taking you by surprise, making you hesitate for a second before wrapping your arms around him. "Thank you, today meant a lot to me." You smiled against his bare chest, "You're welcome, baby. I'm glad you enjoyed it." You felt his lips pull into a smile against your temple before he kissed it. "Bed now?" You laughed and nodded and he let his hands travel to your thighs before picking you up, making you yelp and he walked to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him before beginning on part two of his gift and boy did he savor every moment of it.

@moonlightfountain thought you might like this :)

#william hargrove #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #female reader #happy birthday billy #i live for happy billy tbh

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jarviscockerssecrethusband · 2 months

Text

Steve had heard a lot about Billy before he ever met him.

The Hargrove’s had arrived during Shabbat so Steve was busy trying to wrangle his dyslexia into actually reading Hebrew for once while Hargrove was making his unforgettable impression on everyone. Still, Jonathan Byers and Dustin Henderson went to his Shul so Steve felt like he already knew the guy by the time Monday came knocking.

The way Henderson described him was like a cartoon monster, probably because he’d already developed a crush on his kid sister. The way Byers described him was almost with a quiet admiration. A guy flagging in small town Indiana had a lot of balls.

Hargrove was hot. Naturally. Almost scarily blonde, kind of like Jason Carver. Definitely Catholic. Could definitely ruin Steve’s life if he put his mind to it.

They didn’t officially talk until Halloween. Steve wasn’t drunk but he was one of the few. Tommy had been trying to get him to eat pork for a solid hour. Because it was so funny that Steve had religious dietary restrictions when they were all hammered.

Hargrove rolled his eyes and told Tommy to knock him off. He was about three inches shorter than Steve but he felt taller. Judging by the tightness of his leather pants, he’d been blessed by God in more than just his angelic good looks. That is, if the Christian God made angels who swayed slightly on their feet and were at the point of the night where everything smelled kind of old boots.

They ended up just talking. Nancy had gone god knows where after dumping his ass for Byers, Steve was pretty bummed after the sudden collapse of a year long relationship, even if he was slowly realising that he was gay, and Hargrove was happy to just have a chat. They debated the merits of Indiana Jones vs James Bond, then Steve drove him home.

The Hargrove house was absolutely fucking terrifying. Externally, it was just a fairly average place for a working class family of four but the confederate flag on Neil Hargrove’s pickup truck gave Steve pause. As did the old belt hanging out the back. Spikes attached.

Billy crashed at Steve’s instead. He said several lewd things about a mixture of girls and boys from Hawkins High, attempted to write a poem about Steve’s ass then promptly passed out and started snoring.

So. Billy Hargrove liked guys. Steve also liked guys. It wasn’t weird. Not unless Steve made it as such. They’d be fine.

It was not fine.

Billy had vanished by the time Steve woke up the following morning. He’d penned a short thank you note in very fancy handwriting, telling Steve that if anyone found out what had happened, he was dead. Eh. Steve had threatened worse.

He didn’t see Billy for about a week after that. Not until the blue Camaro parked outside the Byers. While there was a demodog just lying on the floor of the kitchen and Max was under Steve’s care.

Shit.

Steve sensed that flirting would not get him out of this one.

So he tried to act macho. Puffing out his chest. Peacocking just like Hargrove. Until Max’s ginger hair peeled out the window and he had to change tactics again.

Steve was not going to let his new crush get eaten by an alien. So he told him the truth.

Billy smoked five cigarettes right down to the filter while staring in horror at the creature on the kitchen floor. Ash got all over Joyce’s nice wooden floors. Nobody brought him up on it.

Then Billy’s face steeled and he fished a red bandana out of one of his pockets (Steve would pay attention to which side it had been on when he didn’t fear for his life) and grabbed his lighter.

“Let’s send these assholes to Hell.”

Steve couldn’t agree more.

Billy was not happy about having to sign a contract afterwards. Grumbling about how government was authoritarian bullshit. Still, he wrote his name with a flourish and asked to pull one of the scary government people to the side.

He did something unexpected when he finally emerged from the room afterwards. He kissed Steve. Apparently Steve hadn’t been making up a mutual crush in his head after all.

They had their first date a little before Christmas. Billy took him to Makeout Point. Fun was had. Then Billy drove Steve back to the Harringtons and made him watch Star Trek. Fucking nerd.

Six months went by and Steve never met Neil. He’d heard a lot about him, his opinion of African-Americans and Mexicans and Jews were dark and ugly and made Steve want to smash his teeth in. What cemented that opinion was that Billy was still coming to Steve’s with bruises patterning his torso, a split lip, broken toes.

It was the day when Neil had cracked Billy’s ribs that Steve decided to take matters into his own hands. Billy wasn’t well enough to come but Steve decided to have a little trip to the Hargrove’s, bat in hand. To have a talk.

Neil called Steve a kike and both of them faggots. There wasn’t a lot of talking after that.

Nobody knew quite where Neil had ran off to after that evening. Not even Steve. Not that he minded, as long as he stayed far away from Max and Billy.

He had Billy now, wearing his stupid leather pants as a joke, forcing him to watch more Star Trek. That was all that really mattered.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #jewish steve harrington #tw antisemitism #tw racism #Neil sucks obviously #surprise Billy is bi and Steve is gay #tw alcohol use #just in case #tw abuse #tw f slur #tw k slur

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toomanyfandomsimfanvergent · 2 years

Text

B.H. Billy Hargrove x Reader

Your lover let's put a sigh as you lecture him. Not really lecture, you don't want to trigger him.

"God, Billy. If you won't do it for Max," he gives you a side eye. Asking him to stop being so reckless, wasn't going well, "Do it for me," you pout your lip and he runs a hand down his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He lets out a sigh and moves the hand to rest on your thigh, "Babe," he says slowly. Just from his tone you know you won't like what he has to say, "Why do you like her so much?" You loved Max.

She was like the little sister you never had. You helped her learn a new trick on her skateboard last weekend, you were her ride if her or the boys needed anything, you liked being needed.

You knew what it was like to need something. You wouldn't of your asshole parents had ever payed attention to you.

"Billy," you say his voice nice and sweet. He sighs, whatever you're about to ask, he can't say no. "I didn't have a support as a child, I was a little kid once. I know what it's like to want to have someone to teach you shit, to drive you to your friends,"

He gives a sad smile, "If driving her makes you that happy," he grumbles.

You give him a suggestive smirk. A 'im about to ask something you hate' suggestive smirk.

Before his lips can even form a no, you speak.

"If I'm busy and you aren't, I want you to drive her and please be nice," you plead and rest your head on his shoulder.

He sighs like waving a white flag.

As a thanks you press a soft kiss to his lips. You feel him smile into the kiss as he deepens it.

You hardly oblige. His tongue soon enters your mouth and flicks softly at yours.

Before you know it it's a battle of the tongues, lips clashing. The room filled with pants and the occasional moan.

Billy's dad and Max's mom, we're both out of town.

Max wouldn't be home until later. You had the house to yourselves.

"God, I love you," he mumbles into the kiss and pulls you into his lap.

He rests his head in the crook of your neck as you sit next to him.

You feel his breathing start to slow as he lulls himself to sleep with your heartbeat.

His breathing is warm and quiet as it flutters against your neck.

He was safe. Neil couldn't hurt him, and for a minute you could protect him. Protect him from Neil, from all of the bad things in the world.

Max walks in to see Billy curled into YN's lap. They are both asleep and her face is pressed to the top of his neck as he curls into her.

Max pauses, when had Billy ever looked... dare she say? Peaceful?

It confused her. Billy was so full of anger, and hate.

Yet, on the couch curled into his girls lap, he seemed calm. Like nothing could hurt him.

He was safe.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x sister!reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #soft billy hargrove

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thegreencanary · 2 years

Note

can i request a billy hargrove fluff/angst oneshot? maybe where reader gets in his car after school crying and his brain goes brrrrrr *microwave noises* unsure what to do but reader says stupid jason carver was picking on her and a switch flips in him and he gets M A D ready to punch his face in??

Omg I got you boo I love a protective man and Billy is just *MWUAH*. I’ll try to keep it simple but this gave me a lot of good ideas. Might make a larger story later!

A/N: This is my work and I don’t give anyone the permission to post it anywhere claiming to be someone else’s. I worked hard on this, if you enjoy it please interact. Requests are open.

TW: Cursing and fighting

It was a dumb shirt, you knew wearing it to school was going to be a problem but the whole morning was a shit show so you didn’t have time to change. It was a really nasty shade of green and it fit you like a box. The sweatpants you decided to wear just made you look like you just rolled out of bed, because you had. Oversleeping makes one panic in the morning that’s for damn sure. School was just as bad, especially since Jason Carver woke up and chose you to be his victim today. All day he had been calling you names, knocking your books out of your hand and harassing you about your best friend. Billy was popular but Jason hated him, and because of your class schedule you barely got to see Billy during the day. Lunch time he was being held in a lunch detention for falling asleep in another class so Jason took the opportunity to throw apple juice at you. The day just sucked.

Finally the bell rang and you just wanted to go home, Billy usually took you but you didn’t want to wait for him because Jason was hot on your heels.

“Gonna run home and cry about how the big bad basketball players were mean to you today? Yeah? Wittle cry baby? You’re pathetic.”

You just pushed on outside, wanting to just go the fuck home.

“No wonder your dad died! I’d want to too if my daughter was a fat bitch like you!”

God. Damn. You. Jason. Your legs stopped working for a few moments. He just had to yell your business so the whole fucking school could hear it. Embarrassed tears streaked your face as you ran to the comfort of a certain blue Camaro. Billy wasn’t inside yet but you had his spare key; perks of being the best friend. You sat down and began crying so loud that when he opened his door you didn’t even hear it.

“….if you bleed on my seats you need to pay for it to be cleaned.”

Billy had no idea what to do. He’d only ever seen you cry once, and it was when your dad died. He usually was the one crying in front of you. You shot a glare at him through your tears.

“I’m not on my period idiot.”

“…so are you gonna tell me or are you gonna do the dumb girl thing where you just cry and make everyone else miserable too?”

Sometimes you questioned your friendship, and your secret love for him. He could be a real asshole.

“Jason fucking Carver. He’s been on my ass all day and then…he just…he said…something about my dad…”

Billy’s attitude switched immediately. He may have been an ass but he loved you. You knew him, all of him, and you didn’t judge him at all. You were always there for him; like when Neil got to physical and you patched him up in your bathroom, or when he got into a fight at a party and you got in Tommy’s face for trying to start shit when he was too drunk to fight. You were always in his corner.

“Finally.”

Billy threw open his car door and b-lined it to the fucking prick. You followed, not stopping him because part of you wanted to see Jason get his shit ROCKED.

“Well, Well. The ogre had her little boyfriend come and save the day.”

Jason laughed with his friends but Billy didn’t stop or slow down at all. He stormed right up to Jason and DECKED him. Jason fell back and you gasped, happy but surprised at the intensity of Billy’s punch.

“Yea well leave my girlfriend alone and you won’t have to see me again. If you fuck with her at ALL anymore, you’ll never walk again.”

Girlfriend? You were still stuck on that when Billy aggressively pulled you back towards his car. Jason could be heard groaning about a broken nose but you were focused on Billy.

“Ready?”

“Ready for what? What do you mean girlfriend? What the fuck happened back there??”

“I’ve been waiting for a reason to knock his dumb ass out. We’re basically already dating, I think you’re hot you think I’m hot don’t get your pantyhose in a twist.”

You were dumbfounded.

“You’re such a romantic Hargrove.”

You rolled your eyes, but Billy killed the car engine and sighed.

“Look, I want to take you on a date, like a real one and I want to be good to you the way you are to me; I just didn’t want to bring it up after I got into a fight. I wanted to ask you later. But since you’re being a brat about it, yeah. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Jesus this boy was so dumb. You just laughed to yourself and nodded.

“Okay Billy. But you have to do this right. I’m not one of your groupies okay?”

He chuckled and eyed you.

“Oh I know. They dress so much better than you.”

“I WAS RUNNING LATE YOU FU—“

He shut you up with a way overdue kiss. This was going to be an interesting adventure.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy stranger things #billy x you #billy could have been saved #billy deserved better #billy hargrove x you #stranger things

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 7 months

Text

The One I've Been Waiting For {Part 04 of 13}

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Older!reader

Word count: 2 K

Summary: Billy Hargrove is just one of the many students you're supposed to help. The last thing you expect from your interaction is that he'll start flirtt with you... Much less that Billy would stir up feelings you'd rather keep hidden. Despite the mutual sentiments that soon enough start to grow, there are a lot of reasons for whatever it is to be left alone, and one of them is your age...

<- Previous part (03)

Next Part (05) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

A/N: In this story, reader is 5 years older than Billy, who's 18.

•••

The Heart and the Mind

Billy's mind is a chaotic place. But this time is for a whole different reason. It's been a while since he got together with a girl, and he doesn't even miss it. He did think about it more than a few times, but every time he considers it... All he can think about is her.

“Billy!” Max suddenly yells, snapping him out of his thoughts. With an angry face, he glances at her.

“What the hell, shitface?”

“What's wrong with you? Why are you acting so weird?” Max asks, and he rolls his eyes, focusing on the road.

“I'm normal.” Shrugging his shoulders, Billy checks his face through the review mirror. There's nothing wrong with him.

“No, you're not. You're more stupid than usual. And less angry.” She goes on, and Billy runs a hand through his head before hanging an arm on the open window. “It looks like you have something in your head.”

“Max, shut the hell up.” He mutters, taking a deep breath. “Care about your own business and leave me alone.”

“Fine, whatever.” She mumbles.

He was just about to lash out at her again when he remembers what (Y/N) said. Billy was never too fond of Max, and he doesn't want her to be one more thing he has to care about. But they were both forced into each other's lives, and she also has to deal with Neil. Of course, she doesn't see the worst side of him, since she's Susan's daughter. But part of Billy, a tiny little part is happy she's not the one being beaten up. Thinking about it now, imagining Neil hitting Max, makes him angry. Furious.

“What about that shitty boyfriend you have?” He asks, eyes on the road.

“What about him?”

“Damn it, Maxine. Is he treating you ok? Because if he ever does anything I'll have to end his miserable life.” He's finally at the Elementary School, stopping the car. “We're family now, it doesn't matter how we feel about it, so if anyone screws up with you, it's my business too.”

“You're going crazy.” She mumbles before opening the door.

“Maybe I am.” He whispers to himself, ignoring how she pushes the door close.

Driving fast, he makes his way to Hawking High School for more endless hours of bullshit. Billy can't take this anymore, not here at least. He was never into school, but back in Cali, at least he was home, in a place he loved. But here, he has nothing.

Nothing but a girl stuck in his head. A girl whose smile is burned in his memory, that he plays back all the time. Billy acts like he doesn't have a heart, but (Y/N) certainly makes him feel as if it's beating again. Maybe for the first time in his life.

—————

You've been quite off the whole morning, not paying attention to anything. Lucky for you, today's class is just about the presentations of last month's projects, and since your group was the first one, you had the privilege of sitting in the back and letting your mind float away from this place.

The thing you don't want to think about is the only thing you think about. Or better said, the person.

Billy has been going through your mind on a daily basis, ever since you last met him when you went to the quarry. You did cross paths with him at school, and he was nice, asking how your day was. With kind eyes and a beautiful smile.

And now, the man has been constantly in your head. Night and day, even though you've been struggling not to. And you like thinking about him. You even miss him, looking down at you with those blue eyes.

“(Y/N),” Tanya calls, and you snap out of your thoughts, noticing that the class is over. “Where are you? You didn't even pay attention to the project's presentation.”

“Yeah, I...” Gathering your stuff, you follow Tanya outside. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nevermind, Tany. It's stupid.”

“Well–”

“How is my beautiful girlfriend doing?” The voice is quickly followed by a sudden hug. Liam has one arm around Tanya and the other around your shoulders. He kisses her before placing a kiss on your cheek. “And my beautiful bestie?” You wrinkle your noise at his word and the high pitched voice he usually uses.

“Your bestie has a boy in her head.” Tanya singsongs, and you roll your eyes. “I have to go to the restroom. Be right back.” Kissing Liam again, she waves at you and walks away.

“So you finally met someone you're interested in?” Liam asks as you move to one of the wooden benches set near the walls.

“Let's sit there.”

The wind is stronger than earlier today, making the tree's branches bend over. The campus is beautiful, and as you sit down, pulling your legs up, you watch as people come and go. The exposed skin of your shoulders makes you feel cold, but you ignore it. You like it here, it's far better than the one in Indianapolis. There's more nature, and the campus is full of trees and bushes, and even a garden on the East side. Things move slower here in Hawkings, but you like it.

“So? Who's this guy?”

“Liam, I need a guy's opinion on something.” Crossing your legs, you turn towards him.

“Bring it on.”

“How would you feel if Tanya was older than you?”

Liam furrows his eyebrows, getting a thoughtful expression for a while. He seems quite surprised by your question. “Well, if was still Tanya, I'd fall for her anyway.” He says, nodding to himself. “I mean, the dynamic would be different. Let's say that by her age she could have children or even an ex-husband. And the years of experience would probably make a gap in between us and if we're from different generations we'd like different things but–”

“Children and ex-husband?” You cut him off, not able to follow up with whatever he's saying.

“Yeah. The probabilities are that she'd at least have one past long-term relationship.”

Closing your eyes for a few seconds to gather your thoughts, you take a deep breath. “Liam, let me rephrase that. What if Tanya was, let's say... Five years older than you?” That's way too specific. “Would you still like her? Or even consider dating her?”

Liam gives you a look, raising one eyebrow. “Here I am, analyzing every aspect and challenge of a relationship with an age gap and you were speaking about five years?” You silently nod. “That's not even a gap. That's just a couple of years, no big deal.”

“It's just that... When the guy is older everyone finds it hot.” You start, looking down at your hands. You shouldn't even be talking about this, since Billy Hargrove isn't even a possibility. But this is just something you need to know, something you need someone else's opinion on. And Liam, being a guy, gives you a better perspective. “But when it's the other way around... People find it weird.”

“(Y/N), age is just a number.” He's still speaking when Tanya comes back, sitting next to him. “Correction. After eighteen, age is just a number. You're both adults and it doesn't matter what people say, only what you feel. And you don't even look your age, people wouldn't even spot the age difference.”

“What makes you think I'm talking about me?” You're quick to defend yourself, stuttering a little.

“Because you were way too specific for this to be a hypothetical situation or about someone else.” Liam exchanges a look with Tanya, who smiles.

“You know you don't have to hide things from us.” She says, reaching out a hand, which you hold. “We're here to help and support you. And if something happens between you and Billy we'll be happy for–”

“Nothing will happen.” Cutting her off, you sigh. “I just needed Liam's opinion on it. I was curious, that's all.”

“Look, the only problem I see with you getting into a relationship with Billy is his reputation.” Tanya starts, and Liam nods. They don't have much contact with Billy, but, like everyone who lives in Hawkins, they heard about him. “He's a bad boy, gets all the girls he wants, and throws them away when he's done. You're not into that kind of thing.”

“You're a hopeless romantic,” Liam adds.

“Exactly. So be careful.”

“I will.” You whisper, running a hand through your hair.

After another class, Tanya drives you to Hawkins High School where you attend this girl, Clarissa. A quick rain came and passed during the time you were with her in the classroom. But by the time you're done, the sun is trying to win over the thick, grey clouds taking over.

You're walking through the halls next to Clarissa, chatting. She's kind, and despite not being that good at Biology, you can see she's trying her best. “I'm way too nervous for this test. I need at least a C.”

“You'll do fine. I can make you a quiz if you want, to help you go over the topics again.” You offer as you move outside, the cold wind making you shiver.

“That would be amazing, thanks!” She cheers, giving you a quick hug before waving and heading to her car.

You go to the public phones since you need Tanya to pick you up. But after calling twice, you're almost giving up.

“Hey.” The sound makes you turn around, putting the phone back in place. Billy smiles, and you can't help but do the same.

“Hi.” You shyly say. “How have you been?” Talking to Billy is different now. You have ideas in your head, ideas you know you shouldn't have. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Basketball game.”

“Did your team win?”

“Of course.”

“That's great.” Taking the phone again, you try calling one more time. But she doesn't answer. “Shit.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, it's just–” Putting the phone back, you start walking, bracing yourself. “–Tanya was supposed to come for me but her telephone must be broken again.”

“Here,” Billy says, and when you look at him, you find the guy taking off his jacket.

“No, you don't have to–” He's already handing it over to you. “I'm alright, really.”

He doesn't say anything, and when it takes too long for you to move, Billy puts the jacket around your shoulders. You're immediately surrounded by warmth, and also his scent. It's familiar now, even though you don't spend too much time around him. But it makes you feel... Odd. In a good way.

“Thanks.” You whisper, stepping back and clearing your throat. “I gotta go now. Before the rain catches me.” With a little wave, you start walking again.

But Billy is quick to grab your arm, gently. “Do you really think I'll let you walk home with a storm coming?” As if to make his point clear, a distant thunder echoes.

“Billy...” You don't want to go with him. Being around Billy is dangerous, it brings out feelings you don't understand. Feelings you don't want to think about.

“(Y/N), C'mon. It's just a ride home.” The grip on your arm slips until he's holding your hand. It sends some kind of wave through your arm, like electricity.

You're moving before you notice, following him.

“Hey, Billy boy!” Someone shouts, and you give the guy a quick look before going for the passenger door. “Saturday at my place! It's gonna be wild, don't forget.”

“I won't.” He answers as you get inside, putting the seatbelt on. Billy is quick to settle down, turning the ignition. “Party on Saturday. Wanna come?”

“I can't. My group will come to my place to work on some papers.”

“Is it true or you just don't wanna go out with me?” Billy hits the street, and you struggle to deal with the anxiety. But it doesn't take much until you notice the... Normal speed. A lot different from last time.

“It's true.” You simply say, feeling yourself relaxing.

“So... Does that means you'd go out with me some other time?” Billy glances at you, and you feel your cheeks blushing.

You're supposed to say no immediately, make it clear this is just a ride home. That you're just... Friends. But why didn't the words come out? It would be so much easier... “Billy, you know we-”

“Mhmm, the age thing.” He cuts you off, a smirk in his voice. “Why don't you do the most simple thing?”

“Which is?”

“Ask if I care about it.” He's already staring when you look at him.

“Eyes on the road.” You warn him, and he smiles before complying. It's getting hard to deal with all this. Billy doesn't get out of your head, and you were hoping whatever this is, it would fade away. That time would help. But here you are again, with him, and all the walls separating between you are crumbling down... And you like it. You want to take them all down. But you are a thinker, and you're scared. None of the guys you were interested in before made you feel this way. But why now? Why Billy?

You just want to get home and stay the hell away from him and all the feelings he causes.

“Alright, Princess.” He sighs.

“Don't call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, do you?” You burst out, almost involuntary. Your heart and mind are at war, and both want to win.

Billy smiles, slowing down for the red light until he stops completely. Then, he looks at you, those blue eyes almost hypnotizing you. They're powerful... Or are you the one who's too weak?

“You're the only girl I ever met that I really want to know.” He says, voice low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “So no. I don't give a damn about your age, Princess.”

You're frozen, still looking at him when someone blasts the horn, and you snap out, seeing that the light is green. “Some other time then... Maybe.” You whisper, clearing your throat and running a hand through your hair.

Your heart is beating fast, cheerful to know how he feels about it. But your mind... It tells you otherwise.

@aunicornmademedoit @alexa4040 @goth-cowgirl-03 @nyctophilic0vitnir @minispice-1

#stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfic

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hellotherekenobi · 2 years

Text

THIS COULD NOT POSSIBLY BE LOVE... RIGHT?

Eddie Munson x Mayfield!reader

Written for the incredible @megmeg-chan “this is for you,” I say while throwing it in your direction but my aim is bad and it smashes straight through the glass window which I will not be paying for.

Summary: You and Eddie have never really gotten along, but that’s what makes it fun. What isn’t fun, though, is when those feelings begin to blossom into something else, and what exactly you intend to do about it.

CW/TW: fem!reader; Dual!POV; mentions of household abuse/alcohol/drugs; Season 3 finale spoilers; slight canon variation; a twinge of angst.

Word Count: 12,460 (I don’t know what happened.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There were a lot of bad things in your life. Many came from personal experience—and the occasional mistake made on your part—but the worst of the batch came from the blended family arrangement which your mother threw you and your sister into. There was no stopping Susan Mayfield when she puts her mind to something, and so you and Max had to bite your tongue when she tied the knot to Neil Hargrove, and in effect his son, Billy, became your step-brother.

He wasn’t always a mean guy. At least, not when you had all met the first time. He was cocky, a bit too into himself, but he wouldn’t lash out. Turns out that getting two unwanted step-sisters can turn a person bitter. Neil was no sunshine human, either. But that was something Max and you had picked up on straight away and why you both begged your mother to change her mind. Look where it got you both; ass first into Hawkins, sharing a home with the last two people you’d ever want to call family.

Max and you tried hard to calm the waters, and you’d be the one with a mark on your arm to prove it. It made the two of you pretty reclusive to other people. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to make friends, but the choice wasn’t entirely up to you anymore. It was only a side effect of how rotten both of your attitudes became, though. Sure, you’d get mad over some things—all sisters have their arguments from time to time—but it wasn’t just that; frustrations simmered into a rage. Max was always grumpy, always defiant. You, in turn, lost most of your patience. But at the end of the day, the two of you knew that it was you both against the other four.

Life at home only crumbled more when Billy was victim to the Starcourt Mall fire and Neil wasn’t a great family head after that (not as if he were one, to begin with.) His work ethic crumbled and there was not enough money in your wallet from your part-time job to help the situation, so in the end, you all had to give up the house and into a dodgy neighborhood is how living thereafter went. Maybe, too, Max was affected a lot by it, but she stopped talking to you like how she used to and you could see the way she tensed whenever the fire was mentioned. It definitely hasn’t been an easy life living in Hawkins, Indiana.

To make matters worse, you were situated in the trailer park which welcomed all sorts of perverted drunks and drug dealers. It was not the idealized home living, and it definitely wasn’t sunny California, but it was a roof over your heads, so, in the end, you couldn’t really complain about that.

If there was one thing that was going to send you into a rage, though, then it was your neighbor who would barrel into the trailer park close to two in the morning, drifting on two wheels in his run-down van. Twice now—twice—he’s almost run into your letterbox, and so help whoever the people of Hawkins pray to, you swear one of these days you’re going to tug the letterbox straight out of the ground and bash him over the head with it. Have you spoken more than two words to him? No. You haven’t even spoken one. But that long-haired freak irritated you in a way no one else ever could.

It was just his luck and his fault, you tell yourself, that he happened to introduce himself on a day where you had gone through hell at work, then met a lopsided and foul-mouthed drunk in the living room who gave you crap for not mowing the lawn like he had asked you to. He never actually did ask, though. So when you’re tugging the lawn mower out from behind the house and dragging it beside the driveway, it’s fair to say that you were not in a bright and happy mood to officially meet the guy who woke you up with screeching tires nearly every morning. Restless sleep schedule, meet the prick responsible.

He had offered his name when you tugged at the pull-string with no luck, and you just shot him an exhausted glare as you ignored him and tried again. “I’m Eddie Munson, from across the road,” he said, gesturing to the lack of road between your house and his campervan.

No response and another tug finally started the damn lawn mower, and you shoved it forward to start hacking away at the grass that was hardly needing a cut at all. A fact proven to you quickly was how he didn’t give up easily, and he walked along the footpath right where you were mowing down a somewhat straight line, kicking his shoes against the pavement.

“I’m just wondering, you know since the guys are coming around and I don’t want to disappoint,” he shot you a toothy smile, making your skin crawl. “They’d appreciated some beers and I’m not getting my cheque til the next gig. If you could lend a helping hand?”

Beer. This asshat was asking you for beer, or money if you didn’t happen to have any on you. What a leech!

“No offense, Munson, but there’s no way in hell that I’m helping you with your asinine party,” sighing when you reach the edge enough to turn the corner, you show him the clear distaste on your face at not even mentioning him by his first name. “You better not be pounding music until two in the morning. Your van already makes enough noise as is.”

Making a sound, something between ‘woah’ and ‘hey’, he raises his hands in defense, never failing to show you a smile. “I’m not that bad a driver, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re hardly eligible for a license and you’ve nearly knocked over my letterbox with those driving skills of yours,” you wave a hand over at the aforementioned letterbox, quickly slapping your hand back on the steering. “One of these days you’re going to run someone over, and I swear if that someone is my sister then—”

“Okay! Jeez, you’re a real worrywart, you know that? I promise nothing will happen to your sister.”

You huff out a “Yeah,” as you continue mowing down a line of grass, fingers wrapped around the steering so tightly that your knuckles turn white, irritated by the sound of this guy’s voice alone, not to mention his insane request. Hell, asking for sugar would have been more polite than overtly trying to raid your fridge. It’s not like Neil would give away any of his beer for free, anyway. He’s practically got his lips stuck to every bottle in the same way he’s got them stuck to your mom and—to all things clean and pure—you don’t exactly want to think about that.

He’s still standing there on the footpath, in the corner of your eye you can see him with two hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket with that stupid smile still on his face. You give him about ten seconds to change his mind and walk away before you become furious again, sighing loudly as you turn to lean on the steering and shoot him another glare.

“You deaf or something? I’m not giving you any beer.”

It sparks another type of frustration through you at seeing his lips curl up even more in amusement. “I never got your name.”

Punk. Jackass. Bonehead. You don’t know what it is but he’s seriously tipping you over the edge right now. “Get lost,”

He chuckles, and you want to scream. “Alright then, Hargrove.”

He should be thinking it a miracle that you haven’t already rolled this lawn mower over him and shredded him into tiny little pieces, and honestly, you don’t know why you manage some sense of self-control when you answer him. “Mayfield.”

“What?” He asks, not even flinching in the slightest under your glare.

“I’m a Mayfield.”

“Right,” he rocks on his heels and you don’t miss the way his eyes shoot to the letterbox with the surname he had called you by written clearly on its side. Maybe you have more reason to rip it out than just your annoying neighbor. “Til next time, then.”

“Whatever,” you huff, shaking your head in annoyance and turning back around to carry on with mowing the stupid lawn.

That was the last you had hoped to ever see him, even with the statement he made. You were standoffish and rude, so anyone else—literally any other human being in Hawkins—would have taken the hint and left you alone, but Eddie Munson isn’t like anyone else and he definitely isn’t normal.

As you had expected, music was blaring loud into the early morning from his campervan, and even though there were a few angry neighbors pounding on his door every so often, he never turned the volume down. When you had tossed over for the umpteenth time in your bed, you had heard his chuckle followed by “I apologize for waking you, ma’am” which not only sent your blood boiling but apparently also hers when the sound of a limb hitting his screen door was then heard and angry footsteps stomping away, then the music was promptly shut off.

You awoke groggy the next morning but trudged out to work regardless after dropping your sister off at school. Thank goodness you’re out of that place. High school in California wasn’t terrible and in a way, Hawkins isn’t that bad either, but transferring schools was always messy. As soon as you walked the stage in that graduation cap, it was like hammering the final nail in the coffin. Not that working the laundromat was any better, but hey, it beats homework any day.

It was the middle of the week when one of the washing machines went bust on you, but it was hardly your fault—you had told the customer three times to check the pockets of their clothes for loose change and though they were adamant that it was all emptied, a coin still got suck in the indent of the drum and caused the whole machine to rattle to a screeching halt. Running to it didn’t save it any quicker and neither did kicking the door do any good, but you were already functioning off of cheap coffee and the painkillers you found in the kitchen cupboard before you were bolting down the driveway this morning, so it’s fair to say that you weren’t in a great mood.

Just his luck again, it seems.

When you slammed your palm against the door release button and a pool of water poured out when it opened, the last thing you wanted to hear was someone laughing at you. Granted, getting your shoes soaked was not top of the list either, but the very last thing you wanted was for it to be Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson who was laughing at you, hand on his chest with a basket of clothes hung under his arm from where he stood on the other side of the room, clearly having just come in since his clothes were still dry.

Tonight was not the night to get pissed off by him again. Groaning, you roll your eyes at him—out of instinct or spite, you’re not entirely sure—and step back from the mess with a squelch to your step.

“Need a hand?” He asks, having crossed the distance when you weren’t exactly paying attention, causing you to throw your gaze at him.

“No, thank you,” the words leave your lips in a huff. “I don’t want your help, Munson.”

He leans on one leg, tilting his head to the side. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

Would a punch to the stomach be a good enough answer for you? It’s tempting, but you resist the urge. “Just—it’s not a good night, okay?”

A hum vibrates from the base of his throat and he lowers the basket of clothes to the floor, peering into the opening of the now broken washing machine. “Let me guess, coin got stuck?”

“Maybe,” you glare at him, arms crossed.

He chuckles. “I’ve done that a few times.”

“Oh, great,” so glad to know his listening skills were as low as your patience. “Did you end up paying for it, too? This is gonna get pinned on me.”

“You’re right,” he shrugs, boiling your blood further. “Can’t help with that, but I’m a wizard with a mop.”

For about two seconds you’re rethinking your entire assumption about this guy, totally ready for a change of heart like you’re going through a metaphysical conversion, but he follows his comment with a wink in your direction and you’re balling your hand into a fist at your side. Why I oughta...!

“Don’t you have laundry to do?” the menace comes across as weak but you’re trying your best to shove him away.

Eddie grabs his basket and hoists it against his hip, nodding. “Can’t say I didn’t offer to help.”

“Can’t say I ever need your help, Munson.”

The sound of his chuckle walks away with him as he goes over to a vacant washing machine to load it with his clothes. You’re behind the counter and back again before he’s finished with a mop in your hand, sighing as you wipe the water from the floor. The machine door thumps shut and whirls to life, giving some sound to the silence the two of you were living in, aside from the occasional sloshing from the wet mop against the tiles that could probably do with a wash while you’re here but you’re too exhausted already.

Your fury is wiped away with the water, especially since Eddie isn’t saying a word. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you watch him lean back on his palms against the bench in the middle, eyes focused on watching the clothes spin around and around inside the machine. His foot is tapping against the tiles and if you were to step closer then you’re sure you’d hear him humming a tune, but the thought of it completely evaporates when his attention shifts to you and you’re quick to look back around like you hadn’t been caught staring at him. Please, don’t let that go to his head.

If he was going to say something then you’re unaware of it, having rushed behind the counter again to wring out the dirty mop and go back to what you were doing before you had a broken washing machine on your plate. One minute you’re focused on your job, the next your head is springing up at the sound of the front door opening and shutting and you’re sitting there in this awkward bubble of wondering if someone just came in or if Eddie just left. When you’re peeking around to see if he’s still on the bench and find it empty, your question is answered. But for a moment you’re not so sure that you feel the relief you convince yourself that you feel about his absence.

Forty-five minutes later and a hand shoved into the washing machine that broke down in an attempt to fix it, Eddie is back in the laundromat and taking his clothes from the machine that finished its cycle a few minutes before he came back. He doesn’t look your way or say a word when he swaps the clothes into the dryer at his side, and you stifle a groan when your fingers lose the coin you had tried to take from where it’s stuck inside the drum.

You’re pushing forward on both knees to stick your head into the washing machine, hoping for better eyesight to get the blasted coin that you were fishing for an embarrassing amount of time now. Not as embarrassing as when you suddenly hear Eddie’s voice behind you and your head jolts up at the sound, banging into the drum harshly, and the “oof” that follows when you’re backing out with a hand on the top of your head.

“Sorry,” he laughs, and you’re about ready to really hit him this time. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No,” you grumble, rubbing at the sore spot. “I was a bit busy, remember?”

You’re biting words at him now, trying to sound sturdy without looking him in the eye since you’ve still knelt on the floor as he towers above you. Face to face he’s not so scary, but give him the height advantage and that shag rug on his head makes for a pretty intimidating figure.

“I told you to let me have a try,” as if hearing your thoughts from before, he’s squatting down to your level and then raising a hand when you’re opening your mouth to speak. “I know, you don’t want my help. That’s why I’m not asking.”

“Well, I don’t need it, either. It’ll be just my luck that one of those rings of yours will come off and break this thing even more.”

They weren’t tiny at all; they were bulky, silver rings on practically each of his fingers. From this angle, you can make out the shape of a pig for one of them. If that thing gets stuck and he blames you for it, there’s going to be more than just water getting mopped up off the floor tonight.

“Yee of little faith. I’m very dexterous, I’ll have you know.” He wiggles his fingers for show, though it doesn’t give you much confidence at all.

“I’m surprised you even know that word.”

“Move over—” and he’s pushing an arm in front of you, nearly tipping you over as he squeezes into the space between you and the open door of the washing machine, sticking his hand inside as he peers over his own reach.

A scoff comes from you when he shimmies, having you knock your palm against his side and push yourself away from him, and he completely takes that as an opportunity to kneel at the space you once were to fish for the coin with toddler-like intensity. There’s a clatter and then a scrape, then he’s cheering happily before promptly hitting his head against the drum on his way out, which you more than heartily laugh at.

“Now we’re even,” you smile, taking the coin from his fingers extended out to you.

Despite the pain he felt, he’s shining that self-righteous smile at you. “Told you I could do it.”

“Yeah, I’m so impressed, Munson.”

“I’m your hero. Admit it, Mayfield.”

It shouldn’t please you as much as it does to hear him call you by the surname that you prefer or the fact that he remembers to do so in the first place. “That’ll be the day.”

Two eyebrows raise against his forehead, quite quickly. “I just fixed your problem—”

“You got the coin. The machine is still broken.”

“Not even a thank you,” he shakes his head, muttering the sentence under his breath.

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up by the knees to stand on your feet and Eddie follows a moment later, but you’re already back behind the counter before he can say anything more. He ends up back on the bench and you two stay as far away from each other as possible for the next thirty minutes until the dryer is buzzing and he’s scooping out all the clothes. There’s a clatter a moment later, followed by an annoyed groan, and you watch as Eddie grumbles to himself and begins shoving all of the clothes into the basket before stomping his way over to you.

A ringed hand slaps against the countertop and he’s flicking the hair out of his eyes. “You still got that coin on you?”

Furrowing your brows at him, you hesitate. “Why?”

“I need to do another load.”

You glance back at the basket full of clothes on the bench, but it’s not like you can make out anything from here anyways. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” it’s clear he’s got less patience than when he first started.

“Because it’s not your money.”

“But I got it out of the washing machine,”

“Doesn’t mean you can use it.”

“Come on, Mayfield!”

A beat of silence, then. “No.”

He’s spinning on his heel at that, completely showing off his irritation like a little kid would, and marches over to the bench to snatch the basket in his hands. Another spin and he’s looking back at you. “Can’t you return the favor?”

With a sigh, you lean over the counter. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” He’s frustrated for a moment before running a hand through his hair. “It’s just—my shirt shrunk, okay? I need to throw it back in.”

“Wait,” you hold a hand up, mostly for yourself because if he’s insinuating what you think he is then you’re about to burst out laughing. “You want to put your shirt back in the washing machine to... resize it?”

“Yeah,” he says it so obviously like it’s common knowledge.

Curling a smile at him is hard to hold back. “That’s not how that works, Munson.”

He’s standing there a moment—caught with an expression between confusion and embarrassment—looking almost like a statute that you could take pity on but it’s late and he’s annoyed you for the past two hours, so you can’t find it within yourself to care much. With a shake of his head, he comes back to life and quickly makes his way for the front door, swinging it open and bolting out in the same action.

As soon as the door closes shut, you’re laughing your heart out.

─────── ⋯ ───────

He felt so bloody stupid for how he acted and he can’t even blame it on being tired since he knows that you know that he comes home at two o’clock nearly every morning. It would be great if he could say that he was exhausted or that he didn’t have any coffee (not that he drinks that much, anyway) but he couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough, so turning heel and running seemed like the best bet.

You already don’t think that highly of him, that much was clear, and he’s sure his confusion with the washing only added the cherry on top. He was doing so well, too. He was trying to win your favor. Only a little bit, though! Because Eddie Munson absolutely despises you. He knew you were a Hargrove before you said a word to each other— information spreads fast in a small town—and he wouldn’t be caught dead spending time with someone related to Billy, but that was before you told him that you were a Mayfield. So your mother married into the family. Guess it makes sense, and that eases his worries a little bit since the first time he saw you he swears his heart stopped.

But no way, man. He’s not falling for that. A girl like you with a smile like yours means danger and he’s not the idiot who goes headfirst into a fight he’s clearly outmatched by. Besides, none of your interactions have been very pleasant. Sure, it seemed like the two of you was getting along somewhat at the laundromat but you both still bickered, and the sarcastic comments and degrading remarks never faulted after that. Eddie would sometimes catch you on the way to work, casting you a smile-laced “Hey, neighbor!” which you either glared at him for or told him to go to hell, but he can’t deny that your response only made him smile wider.

One morning it had been you that took the first step in the routine interaction. He was stepping out of his van when he noticed you out the corner of his eye hanging clothes on the line and as soon as he turned your way, you had stuck your tongue out at him and he, ever the gentleman, shot you the bird—and he would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t race the second he heard you laugh, smiling at him like he had told you the funniest joke in the world.

Yeah, you both still hated each other’s guts but a part of him didn’t hate you at all. Even though you still would mock him about his shrunken clothes. That, in all honestly, still pissed him right off.

As soon as Eddie closes the door to the campervan, his uncle is sat by the kitchen countertop with a mug of coffee in his hand, and the usual hello is replaced with a raised brow. “Who’s that, then?”

For a split second, Eddie has no idea what his uncle is talking about until he shrugs his head over at the window which clearly shows your house on the other side of the park.

“Oh,” it only dawns on him now that he’s never spoken about you to his uncle before, so he does his best to explain that you’re just their neighbor, nothing more.

“Right—” Wayne takes a slow sip of his coffee. “You sure about that?”

Furrowed brows don’t even begin to describe the look on Eddie’s face. “What do you mean?”

“You came in with quite the smile on your face.”

Two fingers drum against the mug, settling some noise in compensation for how Eddie just stands there like a cassette player spinning backward, rewinding to spring back to life. “I had a good day.”

His uncle gives him a simple nod, going back to drinking his coffee. Another beat of not moving an inch and then Eddie is making his way toward his bedroom, only to be stopped, shoes squeaking against the floor, when his uncle perks up with a: “So you fancy her, then?”

He might as well have plugged his guitar into the amp and turned the volume up full blast since the shriek that comes out of his mouth is unintentionally loud. “What!? No way. No way in hell.”

He’s swinging his arms in front of him, palms outstretched, almost in a shooing motion. How could his uncle be so blind to it all? Like he hadn’t just flicked you the middle finger a couple minutes ago. Either all those nights at the plant are getting to him, or his uncle isn’t drinking coffee right now.

“How come?” it’s the most innocent question ever, but under the circumstances, Eddie can feel his blood begin to boil.

“Because,” he starts with ferocity, almost fuming. “She’s a pain in the ass! Always making fun of me and she’s rude and—don’t get me started on the first time we met.” there’s a scoff to his words as he leans from one leg to the other. “That’s only half of it.”

One brow raises against the creases on Wayne’s forehead. “Go on, then.”

Right. Okay. He wants to know more. Well, he’s got more. He’s got a whole trunk load of reasons why this is totally absurd.

Eddie’s spinning on his heel, pacing up and down the living room. “She’s ungrateful,” he raises a finger for show, beginning his count. “I helped her at work and she didn’t even thank me.”

“Ah,” Wayne mutters, curiously looking down into his mug. “You helped her at work.”

“Well,” the breath all but leaves his lungs at that. “I mean, I was trying to be nice.”

“Because you dislike her so much?”

“That’s not—no. It’s just—she’s stubborn!” another finger up, jumping back into his list before his uncle can say any more. “She’s irritating. She doesn’t even like Dio—!”

Wayne chuckles. “That’s a deal-breaker.”

“It is,” the response sounds childish but Eddie is determined to convince his uncle that his feelings for you are more built on animosity than anything else.

Maybe convince isn’t the right word, but.

“You know what this sounds like to me?” His uncle places his mug down on the counter, shooting Eddie a pointed look.

“No!” Eddie is up on the couch, his sneakers sinking into the cushions as he directs a finger at his uncle, almost like he was telling him to stay put. “I do not like her!”

As if to say now you’re being a bit ridiculous, Wayne just looks at his nephew with two hands on his hips and that raised brow of his. It’s almost a scolding look that a parent would give their child for throwing a temper tantrum, but isn’t that what Eddie is doing anyway?

“Come on, son,” Wayne waves a hand over at Eddie, gesturing for him to step off of the couch. When he does, the hand goes straight onto his shoulder. “It ain’t a bad thing if you like her. What’s really bothering you?”

He might as well have tugged open the floodgates as there are a hundred reasons why Eddie cannot begin to explain, let alone fathom, why he’s so worked up about this, why he’s so adamant about his feelings for you, or lack thereof. At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself. The heat in his chest when you had laughed before says otherwise, though.

“What if she really hates my guts?” Eddie asks almost sheepishly, troubled eyes peering over at his uncle. “What if that’s all there is?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Right. There’s only one way to screw up whatever it is that Eddie Munson has with you.

─────── ⋯ ───────

Seeing Eddie around after that night was less laborious and a lot more fun. Sure, he definitely still irked you unlike any other (he might as well run first place in the prize of who can piss you off the quickest since clearly, he was the proficient) but after the laundromat incident, you’ve had more of an advantage in teasing him. It was like a trump card; he would throw an offhand comment your way and you would mention only one word of what had happened and he would be out of your hair within seconds. It was fantastic. If only that worked for other people.

Your week had been a long one working your shifts and then the needless errands that awaited you at home (cutting the damn lawn again when it was already short), and then having to tend to the usual drunken brute of a step-father when Max was off who-knows-where with her friends and your mom nowhere in sight. You were at your breaking point by the time Neil passed out on the couch, a few beer cans laid on the carpet and the stain that was no doubt going to form from the drink spilled there. Being the only one to clean up was especially irritating you today.

So, what better thing to do than to go see Eddie Munson when you’re a hair’s breadth away from totally snapping?

It took roughly thirty seconds for the campervan door to swing open when you had knocked your knuckles against it, showing you a clearly disgruntled neighbor with messy hair and baggy clothes.

“I’d say this is an honor but I would be lying,” Eddie speaks, leaning against the doorframe.

There’s a pout on your lips when you reply. “Aw, are you grumpy because I woke you up from your nap time?”

Crossing his arms against his chest, he lets out a sigh. “Is there a reason you’re here or are you just in the mood to suck the life out of someone?” He’s arching your way before you can open your mouth to speak, grinning. “Or maybe you just can’t keep away from me. Huh, Mayfield?”

Your frustrated attitude goes from a seven to a nine just by that comment alone, always finding a new level of anger when he teases you like that. You want to slap that stupid grin right off of his face. “The only thing keeping to you is that horrible smell.”

You could say it plainly—you reek of cigarettes and weed—but a ridiculous part of you doesn’t want to step on an eggshell like that. Not that he would probably care, yet you hold yourself back from saying it regardless. Instead, you stare at him, rocking back on your heels a bit, hand wrapped around the strap of the backpack you have slung over your shoulder. It’s like waiting for the fish to take the bait, standing there in the awkward silence of you expecting a reaction and him not giving you a response.

Finally, when you think this moment can’t stretch out any longer, you huff annoyedly at him. “You gonna invite me in or what?”

His brows raise almost as high as your anger meter, all of a sudden stammering on words as he awkwardly steps to the side, pushing the door out further for you to walk up the steps and inside the campervan, brushing past him by the width of the doorframe. You could say it looks exactly how you expected it, but your house isn’t in much better shape. At least here the living room light isn’t flickering every five seconds.

When you turn around to face him, he’s got a hand on the back of his neck, looking very much out of place even though it’s really you who doesn’t fit in here.

“I won’t take up too much of your time, don’t worry,” the words come out with the bitterness you usually reserve for him, but you’re honest in what you say. The way he’s acting is telling you that you overstepped that invisible boundary by asking to come inside.

Raking a hand through the backpack you brought, you take hold and throw the plastic laundry bag at his chest and he’s catching it with an oomph, two hands saving it from falling to the floor.

“You left your dry cleaning at the laundromat,” you explain, gesturing to the bag in his arms. “I was almost tempted to sell them.”

“Right,” he clears his throat and within an instant, he’s back into chitchat mode. “Not that anyone else could pull it off. I look amazing in these clothes.”

You’re chuckling a little too lightly at that, speaking before really thinking first. “I know,”

If that lightbulb above your heads burst and shattered, it would be less shocking than what just came out of your mouth. Eddie looks at you with wide eyes, a slow smile creeping up his features and now you’re stammering. You’re about to pull an Eddie Munson move and run straight out the door, but you’re far too stubborn for that.

“No one else has the freak look quite like you, Munson.” Rolling your eyes, you hope it’s enough to deter him. “Don’t let it get to your head. Your hair is big enough as it is.”

Smooth.

He nods at you, though he doesn’t look convinced. “I suppose a thank you is in order for you returning my clothes to me,” he says, that smile never leaving his lips.

“It would be the decent thing to do, yes.”

He hums but doesn’t say anything more, leaving the insinuation out in the open. He could stomp his foot down on the carpet and you’d be less surprised by his attitude.

“Nothing?” You shrug at him, tilting your head as you wait for the gratitude he had mentioned.

He presses his lips together, turning the laundry bag in his hands. At last, he rests, a second later shaking his head. “I’m just taking a page out of your book.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him with a sour tone in your voice. “You’re really not letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.” the ‘p’ comes off more enunciated, shoving you into a similar situation from when you hadn’t thanked him for getting that coin out of the washing machine.

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised you didn’t shrink this batch. How’s that Hellfire crop-top working for you?”

Groaning, he’s chucking the laundry bag onto the couch nearby. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you let your hands slap against your thighs. “You deserve it.”

“I’m almost touched by that,” he places a ringed hand on his chest for dramatic effect and you have to bite your tongue to not laugh genuinely at the comedy of it.

Instead, you distract yourself by looking around the room more, not hiding the way your eyes glance across everything in sight. Some dirty dishes, sure, and a mess on the floor by the couch but still it’s got a homey sense to it. More than your own home. It’s not exactly the word you would use to describe it. When you’re glancing back at Eddie, you find his eyes have never left their place; still looking at you, somewhat gentler than what you’re used to. Those stupid big brown eyes of his, you could swim in them.

When there’s a swell in your chest at the way neither of you is looking away, you feel the flight instinct kick in. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”

You’re turning on your heel when he chuckles. “You love my hair.”

“I hate your hair,” you lie, shooting a look at him over your shoulder.

He leans one hand on the doorframe as you approach the door, standing over you and smiling into the space between you both, or the lack thereof. “And I hate your lips.”

The air you suck in through your nose could have lifted a damn hot air balloon. An insult you’re used to, a tease, sure, but was that him flirting? Your brain is scrambling at the very essence of it and that tiny hint of a smirk on his face is no help.

Punk. Jackass. Bonehead. You’re reverting back to the insults you gave him on the first day you met, trying to replace the words that are clouding your mind right now. He’s so close and his voice was so low, you think you’re about startled into a paralyzed stance. All you can do is look up at him, completely speechless.

“You can say such horrible things with them,” he finally finishes, nudging open the campervan door.

The light washing in from outside kicks you back to life, shooting him a glare. “Wait until you really piss me off.”

“I have a feeling I’m getting there.”

You’re down the steps as fast as you can, throwing up the middle finger to him when he shouts out at you to have a good day. Never have you ever felt so irritated at Eddie in the entire time you’ve known him. Never once has your blood boiled further than just loathing for the guy, not ever trespassing into forbidden territory—into even the notion of... interest—since you swore from the start that he was bad news and a nuisance rolled into one, and all you wanted to do was stay the hell away from him.

No, not ever did you think you would actually enjoy being so close to him. It’s bugging you right down to your bones and you want this gone, whatever it is. Whatever the hell Eddie Munson just did to you, you want it eradicated.

Obviously, spending more time away from home seemed like the right option, seeing as he was only across the road from you. It was all an excuse—getting lunch out, spending extra time with friends, working longer shifts at the laundromat even though it was highly possible that you would see him again—and if you weren’t so hyper-focused on being everywhere that he isn’t, you might have gotten away with it. But you forget how well your sister knows you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask her, watching her crossed arms and aloof expression sitting across from you. “You’ve not even touched your milkshake.”

“What’s gotten into you?” She asks, straight to the point. Ever the Mayfield.

“Nothing,” you shift awkwardly in your seat and she picks up on it, raising a brow at you. “I just want some quality bonding time with my sister. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she says as if she actually believes it, sitting forward to play with the straw in her drink. “This is, like, the third time you’ve brought me here.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Max furrows her brows, stopping herself from continuing her sentence. A moment later she sighs, staring down at the table. “It’s just... I can always tell when something’s wrong.”

That older sister’s guilt kicks in at seeing her almost deflate in the seat. “Nothing’s wrong. I promise.”

She eyes you from behind her drink, taking a sip and nodding contently. She stirs it once, then glowers. “It’s not that Eddie guy, is it?”

It’s so unexpected to hear his name come from your own little sister that you choke on the milkshake you’re currently drinking, hitting your chest a few times as you calm down. “What? Why would you say that?”

How do you even know him? That’s what you really want to ask.

“I saw you leave his trailer the other day,” she explains, like the little spy she is. “You looked pretty angry.”

“Oh, that,” you give it some kick, hoping it’ll convince her. “I was just settling something from the laundromat and he was being a prick. Same old, same old.”

“He didn’t want to pay or something?”

“Well—wait, what do you mean you saw me? I thought you went out?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, she stammers against the question put to her. “We were just—”

“We?” pushing the milkshake away, you lean forward. “Who’s we?”

“No one! I said me.”

“Liar. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Oh, like your story sounds any better? When does Eddie not pay for his dry cleaning?”

“How would you know that?”

“Dustin talks about him a lot,” she shrugs combatively, scrunching her face up. “Some dumb D&D thing they do after school.”

“Is that who you were with?”

“What?” She shakes her head, glancing off to the side. “No, no. It’s hard to explain.” When you stare her down, she crosses her arms again. “It’s a game we do sometimes. I mean, we’ve really only done it the once and...”

Something changes right in the last few words she speaks. As if something washes over her, like a cloud, she goes completely silent. Just as much as she knows you, you know her too. Right now you can tell that whatever this game is that she was talking about has brought up a bad memory, something she really doesn’t want to get into and you wouldn’t force it out of her either.

“It’s fine. It’s just—” giving her a comical look, a smile on your lips. “Stupid boys.”

That cheers her up a bit, you think. Max chuckles, shaking her head and then reaching for the milkshake in front of her. “Yeah, stupid boys.”

She offers you a smile and drinks from the straw, and the two of you spend the afternoon much more comfortably after that.

Things were going rather well, especially since Eddie hadn’t turned up at the laundromat for some time, but the feeling of vanishing from his life was starting to fizzle out. Truly, isn’t it what you had told your sister; that all it was that made you angry at Eddie was that he was being just another stupid boy? In the end, he hadn’t offended you. It was just different from anything he had said. Part of you wanted to knock on his door again, but a more prominent part of you told you to hold back. Wouldn’t want him thinking you actually cared or anything. As if.

You see him next when you’re on your way to pick Max up from her friend’s house—El was her name—and you’re meeting a frizzy-haired Eddie in front of your letterbox, his head tilted to the side as he peers into the gap. At the expense of seeming too happy to see him, you go in for the first quip.

“Stealing people’s love letters again, are we, Munson?” the sound of your voice has him stepping back with a jolt, looking at you like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It’s almost the same thing, especially as he’s shoving something into his back pocket.

His startled expression shifts into the usual scowl he wears whenever he sees you. “I would but I noticed you don’t ever get any. Huh, Mayfield?”

“What do you want?” with an eye roll, which was practically a gesture made for him alone, you cross your arms over your chest.

Back to the flustered Eddie you met in the laundromat, he hooks two fingers into the loops on his ripped jeans, leaning back a fraction. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” you don’t buy it for a second. “So, you’re just standing outside my house for fun?”

“No.” it’s a quick response, fired at you hotly. Then, after a moment, his defense deflates. “Here—”

You take the crumpled-up piece of paper from his extended hand, which looks like it is what he hid in the first place. Flattening it out with your fingers, you read over the black and red words scribbled in marker and the rough drawing of a drumkit in the center.

“Corroded Coffin,” you read aloud. “Is this an... invitation?”

He’s rocking back on his heels when you glance up at him. He doesn’t give you a verbal response, just nods his head at you after sucking in a breath. It’s so unlike what you were expecting after having not seen him for such a long time. You were ready for an insult, a snarky comment, anything that isn’t the shy neighbor on your front lawn right now.

“Okay,” you speak, not missing the way he completely lights up from that one word alone; back straighter, face composed. “I can fit this into my busy schedule for you, Munson.”

His mouth cracks a smile and then he’s suddenly stretching nonchalantly, feigning casualness. “No big deal. Just thought you might be interested.”

“Think about me a lot, then, do you?”

Just as you had hoped for, Eddie goes motionless. A taste of his own medicine. It humors you far too much but you’re already late as it is to pick up your sister and you don’t want to linger around long enough for Eddie to come back into the fight, so you walk over to where he stands and tap a hand against his shoulder twice, chuckling as you move ahead to get into your car and drive away.

By Saturday night, when the band was scheduled to play, you’ve come to realize that you haven’t exactly organized anything with Eddie. At least, not properly, anyway. Is he going to meet you there? Should you arrive early, just in case? Is this technically... a date? Only one of those questions is answered for you when you’re heading over to your car, and it’s by the absence of Eddie’s van. So, he was already gone. Okay. One down, two to go. Well, one to go. You’re going to drive there just before the actual gig starts.

There are not a lot of people when you arrive; a few drunks at their seats, talking loudly, and a much bigger crowd congregated at the bar rather than by the stage. The lights are on but there’s not a single person by their instrument yet, so you look around the faces you can make out in the dim lighting of this place to try and find Eddie. The most obvious identifiers are going to be bushy hair and, most likely, his Dio vest. Even with a scarce amount of people to look through, there’s no sight of the Munson. So, you just opt for getting a beer and sitting nearest to the exit, just in case. Knowing him, he’ll probably come barreling through the door midway through the performance, probably having stopped somewhere on the way.

It seems more likely than not that it’s what is going to happen since the band for tonight is now walking onto the stage and standing in their respective places. You’re not exactly paying them much mind, a little too deflated at the possibility that Eddie has stood you up as a payback for the way you treat him. But, then again, it would have to be a date in the first place for you to be stood up, and it’s not a date.

Right?

The tapping of a finger against the microphone stirs you awake from your thoughts, looking forward at the singer with messy hair and a black band tank over his chest, chains on his belt, and black eyeliner which you can see only when he flicks his fringe out of his face, and you about choke on your drink because what the hell kind of a joke is this?

“I’m Eddie,” he says into the mic, and your jaw drops open. He names the other members of his band and then introduces them as Corroded Coffin—exactly what was written on that makeshift invitation. Finally, after his eyes have been wandering the room for some time, he spots you in your corner and smiles wide. “Glad you could make it.”

It’s unspecific enough that it could be interpreted as being directed at the crowd, but you know, with his eyes on yours, that he was talking to you. You can’t ignore the way that sends a tingle through your body, but it only ramps up as soon as they start playing, and are you dreaming or drugged? Because they sound good.

If you’re more surprised by anything, though, then it’s not at how steady his voice sounds when he sings, or how expertly he plays the guitar, or how the drumbeat is so distinct that it almost vibrates through the floor, but it’s by the way no one is getting into it. The drunks in their seats are still talking, the people at the bar are sipping with slim to no excitement, and there’s an attendant mopping up a spilled drink by the left of the stage, totally indifferent to the music. You almost feel out of place to be bopping your head, genuinely enjoying the performance.

That’s why as soon as they finish their first song, you’re clapping and hollering from your seat, trying your best to, firstly, give them a supportive boost and, secondly, try to ignite the crowd a bit. It kind of works, since some people join in on the applause, but it’s still weak in its delivery. Nevertheless, you can tell Eddie appreciates the effort with the way he chuckles right into the microphone, thanking the crowd and introducing the next song. Just like the last one, this is just as good.

By the twelfth song, they end their gig with you standing on your feet in applause. The crowd that started has dispersed by this point and so, once again, you’re the most enthusiastic person in the room. Each member of the band says their thanks and Eddie is holding a hand up in your direction to tell you to wait for him, so you sit back down and finish your third beer.

He approaches you with a tap on the shoulder after about ten minutes of waiting and it’s probably the first time you flash him a wide smile in greeting. “Hey, you were great!”

Eddie smiles. “Thanks—ow!” he rubs at the sore spot on his arm where you just landed a hard punch. “What the hell was that?”

“That was for not telling me that you’re Corroded Coffin. Hell, Munson. I got the shock of my life when I saw you up on that stage.”

“Right, right,” his lips are pouted some as he still rubs his skin. “I was going to tell you but I just got a little... nervous, I guess.”

Honestly, you can understand why he felt that way. If you were in his shoes and went to invite your asshat neighbor to one of your gigs, you probably would have choked on the truth as well.

“Turns out you had nothing to be worried about,” you try to console him, brushing your thumb against the area you had hit him, now feeling a bit bad about having done it. “I’m not that much of a jerk, you know?”

“Yeah, well, you are most of the time.”

The comment is dripping in offense but you hardly take it literally with how Eddie moves his hand slightly downward, his fingers brushing up against yours. That tingle you felt earlier in the night rushes through you again at the discreet touch, skin on skin. He’s just as close as when he leaned on the doorframe in his campervan the other day, and you look at one another like you had in the living room. You can almost convince yourself that you’re right back there again as the noise of the bar and the people around you drown out into nothing, leaving just you and Eddie at this moment with his fingers against yours.

Somehow, you don’t want to pull away.

It happens, though, as one of his bandmates come around the corner, slapping Eddie hard on the back and jolting him out of his daze, saying that they should all go for drinks since one of them was already making a head-start at the bar.

“Oh,” the blonde boy suddenly blurts. “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize you were with your girl.”

A jumbled noise makes its way out of your mouth, almost mimicking the sound that Eddie makes. Both of you are completely stunned at the suggestion with a mixture of words trying to force their way out into some kind of explanation, though it’s all muddled.

Finally, you manage a coherent reply. “Never.”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie waves his hand, offering you a shaky smile as if he were apologizing for his friend’s behavior. “We hate each other.”

“Completely,”

“Right,” the boy looks down at your hand still on Eddie’s arm and you’re quick to remove it. “I totally believe that.”

He’s back to basics, which happens to be alcohol before you can try and assure him again that you and Eddie are not an item, so, deflated, you stand there as they talk some and then he’s thanking you for coming to watch them play and heading over to the bar.

Eddie turns back to face you, slightly blushful. “Do you want to join us? I’ll pay.”

His offer sounds tempting, especially since it’ll be free on your part, but you’ve already got three beers in you, have been more touchy than usual, and can feel yourself on the brink of crossing another type of invisible boundary if you say yes, so you politely shake your head, though you really want to stay.

“I should get back home to Max,” is your excuse. A rubbish one, too, since you know that she’s sleeping over at El’s for the weekend.

“Oh, okay,” he raises an arm behind his head, playing with the hair there. Is it just because he’s wearing a tank top or did he always have such defined arms? You’ve not noticed until now, and you could be ogling if you don’t quickly snap your attention back to his face.

“Thanks for inviting me, though. I had a lot of fun, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m really glad you made it.”

Your teeth sink down on your tongue before you can ask him what exactly his invitation means. Here you’ve been wondering if this was something more than just a hangout, or just because he wanted another seat filled at his gig. When there are butterflies swirling in your stomach for the much-anticipated answer, you decide not to even ask the question in the first place.

He’s incredibly polite about you leaving at what would be considered an early time of night, walking you to your car to make sure that you get there safely. You’re grateful for the assistance and tell him that you’ll see him soon, poking your tongue out at him when you drive out of the carpark, hoping that the playfulness of it will bury whatever kind of sentiment was left inside the building.

It’s not exactly a delightful atmosphere when you get home that night, walking in on Neil slamming down an empty can of beer onto the coffee table which is covered in a lot more as he watches the television. The door closing shut behind you is enough for him to turn toward the noise, his eyes slanting when he sees you standing there.

“Where the hell have you been?” He slurs, sticky like the dried alcohol in the carpet that you couldn’t clean up from the other day.

“Out,” is all you offer him, already making your way to your bedroom.

You should know not to mess with an irate drunk, let alone one that lives under the same roof as you. He’s down the hallway within seconds, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you around harshly. You flinch at the touch, stepping backward.

“You give me a straight answer,” he barks, swaying on lazy legs.

Carefully, you keep your voice even when you speak. “Just in town with a friend.”

His face scrunches up, jaw rippling as he clenches it. “Fine. Whatever. Just make sure you clean this place up before your mother comes home from wherever the hell she’s run off to now.”

Nodding, you wait until he’s back in the living room before going inside your bedroom, letting out the breath that you were holding and shutting your eyes tightly. For a moment you were scared that he would press, pushing you to say the truth. That’s the last thing you want, especially since you don’t like Neil knowing the names of your friends or the places where you go. Not that Eddie even was such a thing—not really—but tonight, after he had treated you so considerately and Neil had treated you so unkind, you want nothing more than for Eddie Munson to be your friend.

He’s always going to be your annoying neighbor, though, and you’re always going to have this sort of rivalry between you two. You’ve never really thought about adapting the thing you both have into anything more, but every now and then you would like to get along with him rather than on just the odd occasion. You want to waste time at his place when you both have nothing better to do, or see if you can survive a ride in his van as he drifts down windy Hawkins’ roads, or actually give him a container full of sugar when he’s run out. The small things, that’s what you want. You get enough crap at home, you don’t need any more outside the front door.

But it might as well be your fate. Everyone changed after Billy’s death, even your mom. When once she was sweet and always there, now she’s hardly a good listening ear or even around to begin with. It’s one of those irks that fester over time when you never talk about it, keeping it buried in a dark place, that when you’re at your breaking point it’s far from pretty.

Truth be told, you couldn’t handle a second more of it. It’s shown in the way you ignore your mom when she walks through the door the next night, reeking of smoke, and her hair’s a mess, her makeup there but shoddy in its application. She doesn’t even notice that you’re in the kitchen until the plate you’re washing knocks into a cup when you place it on the drying rack beside the sink, but she doesn’t say hello, she just trudges over to the fridge and swings it open, soon grumbling about the lack of food in there.

“Can you make dinner?” She asks, hand on her forehead. “I’ve got such a pounding headache. I couldn’t lift a thing.”

“There’s medicine in the cupboard,” you speak, stacking another plate onto the rack. “And no, I can’t make dinner. Not tonight.”

She’s moving beside you, resting her hip against the countertop. “Why not?”

“Because—” you remind yourself not to get too upset too quickly, sighing as you dip a dirty spoon under the soapy water. “I’ve made dinner all this week, seeing as you’re never home anymore. There’s a frozen meal in the freezer. I have to go to work when I’m finished with the dishes.”

It’s like you’re the mother and she’s the child since she responds to your comment with a groan. “I can’t, baby. I need you to cook me something before you go.”

“I don’t have time.”

Her hand rakes through her hair, messing it up even more, before pulling out the cigarette box that was tucked into her shirt pocket, plucking out a cigarette and shoving it into her mouth. When she talks, it’s half muddled by the stick. “Where’re the damn matches?”

She starts to make a noise by throwing open various drawers and slamming them back shut when she can’t find what she’s looking for, and you want to shout at her to stop. Didn’t she say she had a headache, anyway?

“Did you go to the shop this week?” Her question isn’t gentle, it’s prodding. “There’s no matches, no milk. Come on—” she waves a hand at you annoyingly, and your furrow your brows as you don’t know what she wants. “I need cash.”

This must be a joke. It has to be. “I’m late for work.”

You decide to ignore her request completely, drying your hands with the dishtowel on the table and grabbing your keys from the small glass dish in the middle. Your mother sighs, practically stomping out of the kitchen and down the hallway, and you manage to catch her barging into your bedroom before you leave the house, sprinting over to where she is.

“What are you doing?” you watch as she throws your clothes around, looking under books and other things.

“Where’s that jar of yours?” She hisses, not caring about the mess she’s making.

That jar in question happens to be filled with the money you get from your shifts, which you’ve purposely put in there since you’re trying to save up. It’s tucked away inside a box, covered by blankets and shirts, underneath your bed, since you were more scared of Neil snatching a couple bills off of you, but never have you ever thought that your mom would be doing just that. And to think she was making her way here when you were about to walk out the door!

“Mom, stop it,” you’re picking up the clothes that she’s thrown onto the floor, though she’s just making a mess wherever she walks.

She’s huffing annoyance, pointedly looking at you. “It’s the least you can do.”

“The least I can do?” that does it; that’s what breaks the dam. You throw the clothes onto your bed, finally snapping. “I’m not supposed to be the mom of the house. That’s your job! The least you can do is actually be here. None of us even know where you go.”

“I’m here!” She opens her arms as if gesturing to her presence.

“No, you’re not! I’m here. I’m the one who cooks dinner every night. I’m the one who has to clean up after Neil when he’s drunk the whole fridge. I’m the one who drives Max to school and picks her up in the afternoon and who takes her out every once and a while. I’m the one who’s paying the damn rent! Just because Billy’s gone doesn’t mean you can be gone too. You’re supposed to be my mother, not a stranger!”

She’s silent after your outburst, looking caught between being offended and guilty. At last, she sighs. “Go to work.”

Biting back a sob, you run out into the hallway, flinging open the front door and slamming it shut behind you. Most likely you’ll come home to an empty jar if she keeps poking around your bedroom and all those crappy shifts will have been for nothing. You’re so overwhelmed by even speaking up about everything, even more so by how your mother reacted like she doesn’t even care, and you’re stumbling onto the grass, crying piteously.

It has to be this night of all nights that he’s home before two in the morning, hearing the squealing of the tires on Eddie’s van pull into the trailer park and skid to a stop by the campervan. In any other instance, you would have made a mad dash to your car or back inside the house to hide, but every sob that comes out of you is more painful than the last and so you find yourself not caring at all if he sees as you sit there, fists holding onto the grass like it’s supporting your weight.

There’s only a short moment of silence when you hear his van door shut, then suddenly his sneakers are pounding against the concrete as the sound approaches.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice so cautious but worried at the same time.

You shake your head, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. “I really can’t deal with you right now, Munson.” Go away is on the tip of your tongue, but the tears travel onto your mouth like they’re stopping you from saying it.

“Sure looks like you’re doing just great by yourself, huh?” He responds, kneeling beside you.

You really can’t handle this right now. You can’t manage the snarky neighbor facade that you’ve been playing so well for so long when that’s not what you want, or how you want to be. No, you want to be who you were before your mom married Neil, before you got everything thrown onto your shoulders when you can barely lift the weight on your own. Whoever could?

“Please,” it’s a whimper, something pathetic even to your own ears. “Just leave me alone.”

His hand reaches out to hold onto your arm firmly. “No,” he says, and you look him in the eye. “I’m not going to leave you like this.”

Shaking your head, a few more tears fall. “Why do you care?”

Coarse lips press into a thin line as he looks at you, his hand slowly moving down to your elbow. It seems he’s not going to give you an answer when he opens his mouth. “Come here,”

All the sense of it—all the annoying comments you have thrown at each other—go billowing away in the night air as you let him pull you up to stand on your feet, never looking away from him, from those stupid big brown eyes. He keeps his hand on your arm as he walks you across the distance to his campervan, holding the door open for you to walk inside first. You probably shouldn’t be putting so much trust in him as you are but even still, you know Eddie—better than you’d like to admit—and maybe it was ridiculous, but you do trust him.

What you shouldn’t be doing even more is missing your shift since you may not even have the cash on you when you come back, but what does it matter anymore? Your life hasn’t ever been perfect. California was the last time it felt like it was. At least, not until—

No. You won’t say it. You can’t.

Eddie’s sitting next to you on the couch, a hand on your knee. It’s a delicate touch, still careful. Still inches away from that invisible line you both dance around. “You don’t have to tell me. We can just sit here if you want.”

Shaking your head, you sniffle and wipe the tears above your lip. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just being stupid.”

“Normally I would agree with you but this doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Why does he have to read you like that? How come the one person you fight with the most happens to understand you better than anyone else?

“It’s my mom,” you start, feeling the words climbing up your throat like water rising in a well, just seconds away from spilling over. You spill your heart out with them, too. “Ever since Billy died in that fire, no one’s been the same. I haven’t either but—hell—at least I’m trying. It’s like she doesn't even care anymore.”

At the swell of your tears, Eddie squeezes your knee some, not interrupting you by saying something—which, knowing him, would probably be ridiculous—but giving you the assurance that he’s really listening to you and, though it seems impossible, that he cares about you, too.

“I feel like I’m the only one trying to keep the damn roof over our heads. I mean, Max, she’s only a kid, so I don’t expect her to be pushing the boulder with me but—” you sigh loudly, wiping your lip again. “It’s so exhausting.”

It’s crazy how much of yourself that you’re showing to him—Eddie Munson of all people. Had anyone told you that the guy who asked for beer and money on your front lawn would be the very same person that you’re holding your heart out to right now, you would have laughed like mad. But it is him you’re talking to, and you would choose him again the second time ’round.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” you let out a breathless chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not like you care.”

He scrunches his face up, squeezing your knee again. “That hurts, you know. I do happen to be kinda nice when you get to know me.”

I know. Stupidly, you know it. He helped you with the washing machine, he let you throw insult after insult his way without ever taking it too far in retaliation, and he invited you to watch him play with his band. You know Eddie Munson is a nice guy. Given the circumstances, he’s probably the nicest guy you’ve ever known.

Still, you’re both molded into routine. If it’s the only stable thing in your life, you don’t want to wreck that.

“Uh huh,” you breathe. “That’s why you’ve been a dick to me since we first met.”

“Actually, I remember you being the dick.” He states it matter-of-factly, but you know it’s the truth. “And besides, even if we hate each other, I hate to see you cry even more,”

He wipes the tears off your cheek with his thumb, the touch of the rings on his fingers making you shiver. Or maybe you were tingling again.

“No one else can be mean to you,” he whispers. “That’s my job.”

Chuckling, you tilt your head right into his hand. Though you’re not intending to let him cradle the side of your face like this, you’re not moving away once it happens.

“You’re pretty good at it, too.” It’s meant to be a lighthearted comment, but Eddie doesn’t seem game to go back to basics.

He brushes his thumb against your cheek again, eyes dancing between your own. “I’m even better at taking care of someone.”

A beat skips in your chest. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

It’s risky what you’re about to say, but you’ve said worse. “I think I’d like to be that someone.”

He parts his lips at that, something slow. You can see in his facial expression that the gears in his head are turning, and you might have called them rusty if you weren’t totally ready to fall into this mistake with him. Instead, you take another risk in placing your hand on top of the one still on your cheek, rubbing your thumb along his skin to bring him back to life, seeing as he’s gone mute on you.

What’s one more risk after the last one? You’re ready to take two more. Inching closer to him on the couch, you reach out to caress his cheek like he’s done to you, knocking your knees into his, which has the hand laid there still squeezing again, this time in surprise. You offer him a smile, hoping that you’re not about to scare him off, but when he doesn’t pull away you take that as his response.

Closing the gap between you two shouldn’t feel as delicious as it does, but that tingle is running all through you as your nose bumps against his and you can hear his breathing more clearly in the proximity. Maybe you could hear his heart if you pushed yourself further, but you’re giving him room to think. Literally.

As soon as his eyes flicker down to your lips, you take that last risk with eager intention; leaning forward and doing the one thing you never thought you’d ever do; kiss Eddie Munson.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from him when your mouth slots against his, your eyes closed shut as your fingers gently brush beneath his ear. More than a tingle runs through you when the hand on your knee squeezes once more, much more firmly this time, before meeting the other side of your face to hold you in both hands, moving his lips against yours rhythmically.

Damn it all—is this what you’ve been missing out on all this time? Hell, Eddie feels amazing against you and his lips are softer than you’d thought they’d be. Rough, chapped, is what you expected, not this. Not the warmth that spreads through you when he deepens the kiss with a tilt of his head, humming lowly when your fingers snake into his hair. You’re both moving closer and closer, trying to outcast the space between you both like an old worn-out shirt. You’re both pushing away that invisible barrier. Fitting into each other, that’s what you’re doing.

You don’t want to stop. Now that you’ve risked it and liked it, nothing else seems to matter. But it’s the air that takes priority when Eddie pulls back from you slightly, just enough to be panting onto your parted lips and it really shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. He looks blemished at the touch; his cheeks flushed. You’re sure that you look disheveled as well if the faint pulsing of your lips accounts for anything.

“Okay,” he breathes, licking his lips. “I can get used to this.”

Chuckling, you twirl your finger around a strand of his hair. “Yeah, me too. This is much more fun than fighting with you.”

“Oh, this could be considered fighting.” His voice sounds flirtatious with the sentence.

“Well, in that case—” you peck his lips, smiling at him. “Hit me with your best shot, Munson.”

“I intend to do just that, Mayfield.”

Taglist: @darthkenobii @blooming-mushroom @synrose6 @midnightislost2 @avril-reblog-cave @dameronology @overly-obsessed-with-you @doublesunsets

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #stranger things 4 #eddie munson

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dragonflylady77 · 3 months

Text

i know how i feel about you now

This fic is my present for @spaceofentropy for the Harringrove Corner discord server's valentine exchange (you can find the whole collection right here).

Find the fic on Ao3

Thank you @whenyouwishuponastar7 and @discodeviant for the chance, it was so much fun. <3

Without further ado, I present to you... LIMO DRIVER STEVE!!

Billy is back in Hawkins for Max and Lucas's wedding. He might have expected a limo to take them to the church. He wasn't prepared for the limo driver to be Steve Harrington...

“Billy, can you get the door? That should be the limo driver.”

Billy rolled his eyes. A fucking limo?! Was Susan for real?

As he made his way to the front door, Billy decided that he was surprised that a bumfuck town like Hawkins, Indiana, actually had a limo service.

He pulled on the stupid bowtie his sister was making him wear and straightened the jacket of his tuxedo, muttering about Max being lucky he loved her so much he let her use his hard-earned money to pay for the most ridiculous things for her wedding as he opened the door and froze.

Billy simultaneously thanked his lucky stars and wished for the ground to open and swallow him, for, on the front porch of the house he’s helped Susan buy after his dad had fucked off into the sunset, stood his high school crush and former kinda nemesis.

“Well, well, well, Harrington. Long time no see.” Billy couldn’t help the teasing lilt in his voice, dragging his eyes down the length of the man’s body then back up. The black suit and tie he was wearing looked on the cheap side but fit him rather well. His hair was a bit longer than it had been in high school and fuck, he looked good.

“H-Hargove. Hi.” Steve sounded as shocked as he looked, his hands visibly tightening over the driver’s cap he was holding.

Billy forced himself to move his eyes away from Steve’s fingers, instead dragging them to the beauty spots on his neck and hollered, “Maxine, your fancy ride is here!”. He ignored the chattering coming from the living room at his words, knowing Max had been ready to go for some time, despite Susan’s need to find something else that needed doing or fixing.

“Coming!” Max called out, and a moment later she appeared in the doorway, her long red hair plaited in an intricate way and decorated with little sparkling threads.

The ivory dress she was wearing was the one she had picked when she’d come visit Billy in Chicago for the weekend a few months back, and Billy knew it had sparked a long drawn out fight with Susan. Max had won, of course. There was no way she wanted to wear the dress her mother had worn for her wedding to Neil Hargrove and Billy would never fault her for that, traditions be damned.

Billy now knew way more about capped sleeves, sweetheart necklines and the appropriate amount of beading on a bodice that he ever expected or needed to know—wasn’t like he would ever need that knowledge for anything, being extremely gay as he was, but the resulting bonding with Max had been well worth the shopping expedition.

“I, um, I didn’t know you were back in town,” Steve said, bringing Billy’s attention back to him.

The smile stretching his mouth felt easy and he enjoyed the way Steve’s eyes widened. Billy resolved to find a moment to apologize to Steve for what had transpired between them in high school before the day was over. He had changed so much in the past decade, since getting free from under his father’s grip, and he needed to make amends.

“Oh, I’m here for the wedding. I live in Chicago.” Before he could say much more, Billy had to step out of the way so Max could walk out of the house, Susan close behind her. With a sigh, he locked the house while Steve followed the two women to the limo.

***

Steve drove them to Hawkins Presbyterian Church on autopilot, his mind still reeling and going through his interaction with Billy Hargrove.

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d got the booking for the Mayfield-Sinclair wedding but it certainly wasn’t to come face-to-face with the guy responsible for his bi awakening wearing a fucking tuxedo, looking like a fucking five-course meal.

As far as Steve or anyone else knew, Billy had high-tailed it back to California the second he’d graduated from high school. One day, Hargrove was walking across the stage in front of Steve, the next his Camaro had vanished in a cloud of dust. No one knew for sure where he’d gone, there had even been rumors his father may have put him in the ground but Sheriff Hopper had squashed those right quick.

Steve delivered his passengers to the church on time, then he parked the limo off to the side, dumped the stupid cap on the passenger seat, and fixed his hair as quickly as he could before following the last of the guests into the church. Lucas had made sure he had an invite but Steve didn’t feel overly comfortable joining the kids (who weren't really kids anymore) at the front of the church, behind family.

He was glad the Party were still friends, even with the Byers moving to California for a few years. He’d been there when Mrs Byers had become Mrs Hopper, right after Will and the other kids had graduated, but he didn’t feel like he was part of their group.

He found an empty row in the back and sat down. Times like these, he missed Robin. They always had the best time people-watching and making up stories about them. He was glad she’d got out, first a scholarship to college in Indianapolis then an internship in New York. She was living her best life, doing something important for some non-profit agency while he languished in Hawkins, driving a ridiculous car for people to make an entrance at events with. At least, he hadn’t ended up working that dead-end job for his father.

Steve’s introspections were cut short by the starting notes of a piano cover of All of Me by John Legend and he turned around. The doors opened and Jane walked in first, wearing a lavender colored dress, followed by Erica, in a similar outfit. Behind them stood Max and Billy, Max looking wonderful in her gown and Billy. Well…

Steve let himself stare. People would assume he was staring at the beautiful bride but his eyes never left her handsome brother. The tuxedo looked like it was made for him, the black pants hugging his thighs in a sinful way that made Steve’s pants feel a bit tighter. His hair was shorter now, darker too, and slicked back, his face with that three-day stubble that Steve was unexpectedly dying to feel against his skin.

Fuck. He willed his eyes shut but it didn’t work. The duo walked past Steve and he could have sworn Billy glanced at him as they did. The siblings finished their walk up the church aisle and Steve decided the back view was as enticing as the front.

If Billy was only there for the wedding, Steve would discreetly stare as much as he could and fill his spank bank.

***

Billy kept an eye on Steve during the reception to make sure he wasn’t leaving before they could have a little chat. He was sitting at a table towards the back of the church hall, with some people Billy didn’t recognize. Probably some of Susan’s workmates or something. He wondered why Steve wasn’t sitting at the same table as the Weird Kids Brigade.

The speeches had taken forever—Billy had kept his on the short side, but then each member of the Dork Squad had wanted to add anecdotes and fun stories about the happy couple. The food was nicer than Billy had expected and Max had punched him in the shoulder when he’d said as much, telling him to quit bitching about Hawkins.

The bridal couple had done the first dance, then he’d waltzed with Max while Lucas took a turn with Susan and now the dancing portion of the evening had finally started and Billy was free from any more obligations.

Time to find that pretty boy and get his groveling shoes on.

Billy slowly made his way to the table he’d seen Steve at but when he got there, there was no sign of him. The old biddy with the bad perm and too tight gold dress told him Steve had ducked out to check on the limo. Billy smiled as he thanked her and headed for the closest exit.

The car was easy to find, and Billy spotted Steve leaning against the side of it. Steve brought something up to his mouth and took a drag out of it. The cloud from the vape billowed around Steve and Billy had never felt jealous of an inanimate object before—it was a weird feeling.

“Those things can kill you, you know, pretty boy” he called out as he walked closer, feeling Steve’s eyes on him again and liking it. A lot.

Steve chuckled and Billy wanted to kiss him on his stupid mouth and eat the chuckle from his lips.

“About as much as those Marlboro Reds you were always sucking on in high school,” Steve said, shaking his head as Billy came to a stop a foot away from him.

“Well, yanno,” Billy started, leaning against the car next to Steve, and bumping shoulders with him.

Steve offered him the vape and when Billy shook his head, Steve shrugged and took another inhale.

“Sucking on Reds was always less likely to get me beaten to death by my old man than sucking on dick was,” Billy said, stifling a laugh when Steve choked on his mouthful of air. He patted Steve’s back a couple of times until the coughing died down.

“Jesus, Hargrove, warn a guy.”

“Sorry, man, I thought you knew.”

“That you were gay or that your dad was an asshole?”

Billy shrugged. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore. “Either. Both.”

He turned his head to look at Steve and found him staring. “What?”

“Nothing. I…” Steve shook his head and stopped talking.

Billy took it as his cue. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize to you. For how I was in high school. My home life was shit and I took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, Billy.” Steve put his vape back in his jacket pocket and looked down at his shoes. “Max, um, Max told the kids about how bad things were for you back then.”

“Yeah?” Billy was surprised Max had been willing to open up that much with so many people, but he guessed she’d probably told Jane and Lucas and it had spread from there.

“It was, um, once your dad had left. Once they figured he wasn’t coming back, I mean.”

It had taken a few years and a lot of therapy for Billy to get over being abandoned by another parent, even if Neil barely deserved the title. Then a lot of coaxing by Max for Billy to try and build some kind of a relationship with Susan. It had worked and they were family now. But he wasn’t about to tell Steve that. He’d come to apologize and he’d done that.

Billy rubbed a hand over his face then looked up at the sky, wondering how different life could have been if he had stayed. He wouldn’t be earning as much as he was currently as a sports agent in Chicago, that was for sure, but maybe he wouldn’t feel so lonely all the time.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice was soft and Billy felt a warm shoulder press against his. It felt nice.

“Yeah?” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the stars above them, leaning against the limo.

“Was that the only reason?” Steve moved closer and now they were touching from shoulder to hip. Billy dug his nails into the palm of his hands to stop himself from reaching out.

“What?” Billy stopped looking at the stars to look at Steve instead, confused.

“Was your dad being an asshole the only reason you were constantly riding my ass in high school?” Steve asked, that soft tone threatening to undo Billy’s composure faster than his choice of words.

Maybe it was time to tell the truth…

“No…”

“About that…” Steve reached out and slid his fingers between Billy’s and just like that, they were holding hands. Billy’s brain blue screened then rebooted when Steve moved to stand in front of him, Billy’s legs spreading without conscious thought on his part to accommodate Steve.

There was something in Steve’s brown eyes that kept Billy captive. Billy started to wonder if maybe it had always been there. He heard the words fall out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I had a massive crush on you and I knew my dad would kill me if he found out. He moved us here from Cali after he figured out I liked guys and I couldn’t risk it, even if you hadn’t been straight.”

Steve moved his hands, fingers trailing up Billy’s arms until he could wrap them around Billy’s neck. “Meeting you made me realize I wasn’t as straight as I thought. It took me a while to work it out, and by then, you’d left Hawkins.”

“Pretty boy…” Billy’s brain was playing catch up but his body didn’t have the same problem as his hands gripped Steve’s hips and pulled him closer.

“Turns out you weren’t the only one with a massive crush…” Steve said, moving his left thigh between Billy’s legs and leaning forward.

Billy groaned at the sudden pressure on his crotch, his fingers tightening on Steve’s sides, eyelids fluttering when Steve’s mouth found his neck. “Fuck, Steve…”

“Such a mouth on you, still,” Steve said, his lips a mere inch away from Billy’s, then Billy’s brain whited out because Steve was kissing him.

It took Billy a few seconds to get with the program and start kissing Steve back, but then he was all in—hands roaming, thighs pressing, tongues tangling. Years of pining and yearning came crashing down on him and Billy was two seconds from shooting his load in his tuxedo pants when Steve ended the kiss.

Panting like they’d gone for a full quarter on the court, they stayed leaning on each other, the music from the party reaching them faintly. Billy started laughing when he recognized the song.

“Listen,” he said when Steve looked at him, a question in his eyes. Steve’s eyes crinkled when he heard the lyrics.

“Fitting…”

Can we bring yesterday back around?

'Cause I know how I feel about you now

I was dumb, I was wrong, I let you down

But I know how I feel about you now

“I’d say. Wanna get out of here, pretty boy?” Billy asked, one arm around Steve’s waist, his free hand sliding down to grab Steve’s ass. The moan that came out of Steve’s mouth was worth it.

“Yes. God. Fuck, yes, please.” Steve rested his forehead against Billy’s collarbone. His words were a bit muffled after that. “Take me away from this place, this town, this state.”

Billy laughed at how eager Steve was, then his words registered and he looked down. “Steve?”

“I’m sorry.” Steve sighed and lifted his head, avoiding eye contact. He looked dejected and lost, and it made something in Billy’s chest break. “Too much, too soon, sorry. Forget I said that. I’ll just… go home.” He attempted to take a step back but Billy moved both hands to cup Steve’s face and stop him in his tracks.

“Steven Middlename Harrington, I’ve been in love with you for literal years and now that I know you want me back, you really think I’m not gonna do everything in my power to make this work?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Billy dropped a kiss on Steve’s mouth but didn't linger. He dropped his hands to Steve’s waist again, fingers tracing along the waistband of Steve’s pants. “Do you have to drive anyone home tonight or are you free to go?”

“I’ve been done since we got here. That was my only booking today. The bridal party has arranged taxis to get home or wherever they’re headed so I could, and I quote, ‘party like it’s 1999’.”

Billy laughed at the look on Steve’s face when he used air quotes, and wondered which one of Max’s friends told him that. His money was on Henderson.

“So I have you all to myself?” he asked, feeling something warm unfurl inside his chest at the happy smile on Steve’s face.

“For as long as you want.” Steve toyed with the edges of Billy’s bowtie, his eyes dipping to Billy’s mouth then back up.

“What if I want forever?” He had to ask, okay?

Steve grinned, pulling on the ends of the bowtie and dragging it off Billy’s neck before shoving it in his pocket. “Please refer to my previous statement regarding taking me away from here.”

“Do you mean it?” Billy undid the top two buttons of his shirt, finally feeling like he could breathe properly and tangled a hand in Steve’s tie.

“Yes, Billy. I do. I love you. There’s nothing for me in Hawkins except memories and I’d rather make new ones with you.”

“Well, then, pretty boy…” Billy pulled Steve by his tie, his breath fanning on Steve’s plump bottom lip he couldn’t wait to nibble on. “Ever had sex in a limo?”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #valentine exchange #limo driver steve harrington #max mayfield #dragonflylady77 #billy hargrove in a tux

44 notes · View notes