#platonic!billy hargrove

[shieldofiron]

Robin in like half of Harringrove fics. She’s stronger than any marine.

[myrkky]

Distracted boyfriend meme but make it Harringroveson

The background is an edited version of an image from pexels.

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Realistically, Steve knows the band won’t hang around Chicago forever. He knows they’re out promoting a new album; knows they’ll have to move on and that Eddie has to go with them. It doesn’t stop him from wanting Eddie to stay; to live in the quick familiarity he’s built within Steve’s little found family.

Eddie and Robin seem to have already created their own secret language, all gestures and movement and eye contact Steve picks up on but can’t quite read. He’s already picking on the Party like he’s known them their whole lives; ruffling Dustin’s hair, elbowing Mike, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders, and giving Lucas little shoves. 

It’s easy; so easy to get caught up in how charismatic Eddie is. Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off him, and Eddie knows. He keeps making comments, throwing winks in Steve’s direction, seeing right through every wall he’s ever built around himself and Steve is caught between being obsessed with it and terrified. 

He stops drinking after the one beer, worried he’ll make things weird if he gets anywhere near tipsy, opting to stay as far away from the possibility as he can. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

Lucas is chatting animatedly with Jeff, Max sitting close by, twisting braids into El’s hair. Dustin, Mike and Will appear to be grilling Gareth and Freak about dungeon and dragon campaigns Eddie used to run. Nancy has her arm looped through Robin’s, but her attention is on the phone in her hands, as Eddie and Robin talk about what touring is like.

“Where else are you going on this tour?” She asks as Steve tunes back into the conversation.

“This isn’t really a tour, we just haven’t been on the road in a while and we just stopped the album, so we lined up a few shows to get our feet wet before we hit the road for real this summer. One more show out in LA on Tuesday, then we’re done until May, for now.” Eddie explains.

“We’re in LA on Thursday!” Robin exclaims, and Steve’s stomach drops because, yeah. LA on Thursday. He trains his eyes on the glass in front of him, not willing to actually look at anyone they’re around. 

“We could totally meet up again if you guys are able to swing it?” Freak offers, and Steve forces a little smile onto his face and nods.

“We can figure it out later,” Eddie says after a few beats, and Steve is grateful for how the conversation rolls onto the next topic. When he finally looks back up, though, Eddie’s still looking his way. Steve hits him with what he hopes comes off as a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to pay off the way he hopes.

Once the tab is closed and the staff is tipped well, Steve catches Eddie’s elbow on their way out the door. “I would like to meet up in LA, if you’re interested. I didn’t mean to get weird about it, it’s… I’ve been in my head a bit about that game since it was announced.”

“Oh, hey, no worries. We’re in LA the whole week, then we’re heading home. So no pressure, honest.” Eddie hooks his hand over Steve’s softly.

“Well, we should get in Wednesday, but we could totally do something after the game or even Friday?” 

Eddie smiles and nods, patting over Steve’s hand. “Text me about it.”

“I can do that. How much longer are you guys in town for, anyway?” Steve asks.

“Ah, the dreaded question comes,” Eddie’s playful, and it makes Steve’s face heat up. “We’ve got just under another 24 hours in the Windy City before hitting the road again.”

“Oh,” It pulls his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting, in a way that shouldn’t be happening for a rockstar he was adjacently aware of in high school. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Harrington,” Eddie’s teasing again, and it does nothing to help the blush on Steve’s face. “You can’t possibly miss me this much when I haven’t even left yet.”

“Shut up,” Steve shoves him away then, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, only for Eddie to pull him in with an arm around the shoulder.

“We can grab brunch or something? We leave around 8 to avoid rush hour, so I’ll have to be in the bus by 6, or I’d say dinner.”

“Brunch works for me.” 

~~~~

The trip back to the hotel doesn’t go as Eddie expects; everyone is silently chatting amongst themselves, nodding and tapping along to the music and not causing a scene. He almost points it out, but elects not to bring unwarranted bullying upon himself instead. The guys had been giving him shit about Steve near constantly, so this was a nice change of pace after the last few days.

There was actually quiet as he made his way back to his room. A hot shower finally restored warmth to his bones the hockey arena had stolen, and he was drying his hair when he heard his phone vibrate with a text notification.

Steve: anything you're craving for brunch tomorrow so I can pick a place?

It’s practically too easy to flirt with Steve; he sets up lines without even seeming to realize. But Eddie still can’t get a real gauge on how Steve feels about the flirting, so he sidesteps the easy pass he could have made about Steve being enough of a meal, in favor of actually answering.

Eddie: French toast?

The next series of texts come before Eddie even moves his hands back to the towel over his hair.

Steve: sick, I’ll pick you up around 10:45

Steve: you mentioned going home, did you mean like, back to Hawkins?

Eddie twists his hair up in the towel, and lays down on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on before firing off an answer.

Eddie: nah, I’ve got a place in Nashville and no reason to go back to Hawkins anymore. My uncle moved to Indy, so that’s usually as close as I get.

Steve: any reason you moved to Nashville?

Eddie: are we playing 20 questions?

Steve: sorry.

Eddie bites his lip, and only hesitates for a moment before flipping over onto his belly and hitting the FaceTime button. Steve answers on the second ring, looking embarrassed, but Eddie doesn’t let him get a word in.

“My mom was born and raised in Memphis, but she always told me her favorite city was Nashville. I was there with her a few times when I was little and she’d just, like, light up. And music is so heavily engraved into every inch of the city, it’s hard to not find inspiration everywhere you turn. So. I bought a place in Nashville the minute I had enough saved up, and it’s kind of my home base now.” Eddie explains, watching as Steve’s face softens and he relaxes into his chair listening to Eddie’s answer. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

“I really wasn’t trying to be annoying, “ Steve looks ready to keep going with an apology, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Why do you play hockey?” It stops Steve dead in his tracks, and he genuinely looks confused for a moment. Eddie almost offers to drop the topic, but Steve fumbles his way into an answer.

“My, uh. My dad wanted me to play before I was even born. Because he played. Professionally for a few years when I was growing up, then he went on to coach.” Steve explains, and it sounds a little rehearsed. Eddie’s sure it’s something that comes up often if his father played and coached. “Gotta keep the Harrington legacy alive, I guess.”

There was a bite to Steve’s words that wasn’t lost on Eddie. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

Eddie can see Steve working over how he wants to answer before he shrugs and sighs. “Because it’s all a show for him. The part we don’t talk about is how I got hurt and benched most of my senior season and he cut me off when I didn’t get full rides. Convinced me it was better to not go to college at all, despite the other scholarship offers, than to not get promised a spot on the ice. Convinced me to self-sabotage so I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get into the league at all.” Steve pauses, then, and lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, that’s so unbelievably whiny of me. I love getting to play professionally, and I don’t take the opportunity for granted.”

“Not whiny. Dads can be the fucking worst.” Eddie offers, gently, and is grateful when Steve doesn't press on that particular bruise.

Instead, he takes his turn to ask a different question. “Why music?”

“This is lame, but the answer is once again my mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes at himself, but he smiles. “She was a musician. There were always instruments around and music was always playing and we traveled for her to perform. I knew my whole life I wanted to be a musician like her, but it wasn’t until after she died that I figured out that songwriting… telling stories and painting pictures with words and melodies and making people feel something…” Eddie trails off, lost in the thought.

“I’m sorry you lost her. It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood with her.” Steve offers, hopes it doesn’t sound like a forced nicety, but Eddie smiles and his nerves ease.

“She was a force to be reckoned with. Firing on all cylinders at once, chaos and home bundled into one.” Eddie’s soft a quiet for a moment, and Steve appreciates the silence by taking in how relaxed the other is to be talking about his feelings; it’s a refreshing break from many of his experiences with teammates or opponents who don’t know how to get emotional in a healthy way. Eventually, though, Eddie clears his throat. “Anyway. Back to 20 questions,”

“I wasn’t trying to start a game, really, I just… like talking to you,” Steve admits around a blush, tucking his chin into the collar of his shirt in an effort to hide the shade of his cheeks, but Eddie’s smile says his cover is blown.

“ANYWAY!” He announces louder, then taps at his chin. “Favorite and least favorite teams to play and why, go.”

“I’m not a dog.” Steve laughs but thinks about his answer anyway. “Favorite is probably the Flyers in Philly. Their fans are absolutely brutal, and their mascot is hilariously terrifying.”

“I have seen many a Gritty TikTok, so I completely understand,” Eddie gives him a few beats before he prompts. “Least favorite?”

“The Kings. LA. Billy Hargrove.”

“The…, what the fuck? How many guys from Hawkins are professional hockey players?” Eddie asks, because honestly, how had he not known there was more than Steve?

“He’s technically from LA, which is why he went back, thank God.” Steve mumbles, before dropping his head back against the wall behind him. “But, for whatever it’s worth, there’s me, Billy, and Tommy Hagan in the league.”

“Well isn’t that a fun bunch to surround yourself with,” Eddie muses out loud. Tommy and Billy were two of the biggest assholes Eddie had ever met, and it sounded like Steve wasn’t too fond of the other pair either.

“I actually…” Steve trails off, before trying again. “I was going to invite you guys to come to the LA game, but I’m really not sure it would be a good idea, so I’m… I’m actually going to ask you guys not to come, if that’s not too much of a dick move? I can get you tickets to literally any game you want for the rest of the season, just. I don’t think it’s worth it to get Billy started, and if he’s heard any of the press about us, I’m already going to hear it even if you’re not there.”

“Homophobe extraordinaire still, then?” Eddie guesses, and Steve chokes out a laugh, before covering his mouth and holding up a finger to ask for a moment to compose himself.

“He's… a lot of things.” Is the response Steve opts for, but Eddie can tell there’s more there. Whatever the two of them are doing, it doesn’t feel like Steve is ready to elaborate, so Eddie moves on. 

“I think it’s your turn.”

~~~~

Nothing changes after Corroded Coffin leave Chicago, though. Not in the ways Eddie had expected, at least.

Steve still texts him throughout the day, answers his Facetimes whenever he’s available. Eddie makes him the playlist he promised, and Steve gives feedback on which songs he likes and which ones he really doesn’t, after Eddie promises to not take Steve’s opinions personally. Which, to be fair, he tries really hard not to.

The concert in LA comes and goes, and Steve seems to send him every TikTok he comes across from the show. It’s a refreshing break, as every few videos in Eddie’s feed are of him cheering for Steve at the game, or Steve watching from sidestage in Chicago. 

A text from Robin eventually confirms their arrival in LA, and Steve and Eddie make plans to meet up after the game. Since Steve had expressed concern about Eddie going, he decides to just watch from the bar they agree to meet at. Televised games make it easier to track the puck, but Eddie decides he likes being there in person better.

Eddie’s sipping absently on his beer and in the time it takes him to look down at a text from Chrissy, several of the people around him react to something. Eddie looks around to make sure someone in the bar hadn’t passed out. When he looks back at the screen, absolute mayhem has broken out on the ice. The refs are trying to separate players from one another, and Eddie’s scanning through the numbers on each Blackhawks jerseys before he finally spots Steve, slightly off to the side from everyone else. The camera pans away from him, zeroing in on the fight, now between a Blackhawks defenseman and none other than Billy Hargrove. 

Billy’s helmet and gloves are off, teeth shining with blood as he grins like a psycho and starts to skate in Steve’s direction. One of the refs pulls him back, though, escorting him into the penalty box while another Kings player gathers his helmet, stick and gloves and clears them to the bench. 

The camera finally pans back to Steve, who is now sitting with his back against the boards. He’s got a gloved covering the lower half of his face, but his white jersey is covered in blood. A ref and the Blackhawks goalie are kneeling on either side of him as someone else speaks with him. The camera zooms in as the TV crews work to make out what is happening, just in time for Steve to lower his hand and shows off a gnarly gash along the side of his face. He leans forward a little and spits out blood onto the ice, and the TV jumps to the announcers in the booth. 

The volume is off, but they show a slow-motion replay of the few moments Eddie’d missed; Steve passes the puck off to another player on his team, just before Billy slams into his side. The impact sends both of them into the boards and down onto the ice. Billy swings his stick around and cracks Steve in the face with the blade heel. Steve reacts, throwing his whole arm into Billy’s face, before a sea of white Blackhawks jerseys sweep in and suddenly Billy’s a few feet away, with players from both teams piled up.

Eddie’s hand hovers over his phone; has no idea what to do in this situation. Texting Steve is useless; it would likely be hours, if not days, before he even thinks about looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, but he’s… well, he’s stressed. Even if Steve isn’t interested in him the way Eddie’s interested in Steve, they’ve still built a weird little friendship and that was an awful lot of blood.

So, Eddie ends up firing off a text to Robin. It’s just a simple 'let me know if there’s anything I can do,' but his phone lights up with a call immediately.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not back with him yet, but just… meet us at the hospital, if you can?” She asks. While her voice waivers a bit, she’s calmer than Eddie expected her to be.

“I’ll be right there.” He agrees, hangs up and exits the bar before the game even returns from commercial break.

[harringroveera]

Yeah, Robin really gets it now

Based on this post

[hellcheercaine]

Robin: Why don’t the both of you like, get a room?

(Well Robin, Billy is just begging for it)

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

snow ball

Billy Hargrove x sister!reader

summary: Billy tries, to the best of his ability, to cheer up his sister on the night of the Hawkins Middle School’s annual Snow Ball.

warning(s): negative self talk, mention of parental neglect

a/n: sorry it’s so long i just love platonic billy hargrove lol.

Of all the things Billy had imagined himself doing on a Friday night, driving his sisters to some stupid middle school dance was nowhere on that list.

He leant against the front door, already dressed in his leather jacket and carpenter boots as he fidgeted with an unlit cigarette he’d been holding for what seemed like goddamned years at that point. He knew chicks tended to take their time in getting ready for these kinds of things—Hell, even he might spare a few extra minutes making sure he looked good for a party—but this was getting ridiculous.

After another long stretch of time spent listening to the ticking of the wall clock and slowly losing what remained of his patience, Billy had finally had enough. It was bad enough that Neil had personally appointed him as his sisters’ chauffeur for the evening—he wouldn’t wait for them all goddamned night.

“Y/N!” He called, knocking at the closed door of the hall bathroom. Max and Susan were busy in the master, leaving Y/N to get ready on her own. “You better be out here in the next minute or I’m leaving without you, you got that?”

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” she replied.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. “About fucking time.”

Y/N finished fluffing up her hair in the mirror, nodding at her reflection before opening the bathroom door. She was faced with the flat expression of her big brother, who just barely regarded her as she sauntered into the hallway.

“How do I look?” She asked expectantly, a hopeful smile plastered on her young face. Billy snorted to himself.

“Like a geek.”

And though he would never admit it, he almost regretted his words as his sister’s lips pulled into a frown.

“You got a jacket?” He asked, his cigarette now carefully balanced between his lips. He was itching to light it, and cursed Susan for whatever stupid rules she’d come up with about smoking in the house. She claimed she could smell it on her curtains.

Y/N kicked her feet with a shrug, purposely avoiding his eyes as her cheeks flushed. Suddenly she felt incredibly overdressed for the occasion. “We’re gonna be inside.”

“It’s December in goddamned Indiana. Get a jacket.”

Y/N huffed, running off towards her bedroom. Meanwhile, Max finally finished up with her mother and came out of their parents’ bedroom with a blank look on her face, Susan trailing behind her. Her typically unruly red of hair was straightened out and braided at the front, and to the untrained eye she came across as a proper young woman.

Yeah, right.

“Doesn’t she look lovely, Billy?” Susan cooed, positively beaming, and Max gave him a pointed look that doubled as a warning.

“Precious,” Billy deadpanned, and Max glared as her mother giggled, clearly not clued in on her step-brother’s most obvious sarcasm. Y/N returned wearing one of Max’s old hand me down coats, and before they knew it Susan was rushing the girls to force exaggerated smiles as she snapped some photos with her polaroid. Billy hung back out of frame.

Billy almost sighed with relief as Susan wrapped up and his sisters joined him in the entryway, but before the three could slip out the front door, she caught Max by the shoulders.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” she said with a smile.

“Mom—”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I won’t get sappy. I just . . . I want you to have so much fun tonight, okay? Both of you.” She spared Y/N a glance, and Y/N offered her step-mother a tight-lipped smile despite the pain in her chest.

For as long as she could remember, Y/N had wanted a mother more than anything else. She’d been a toddler by the time her and Billy’s mom had left, and everyday after that she felt like a piece of her was missing. She wished for her on every birthday candle and every Christmas night; she spoke to every God she knew, praying that she would one day return with open arms, ready to whisk her and her brother away from Neil and his iron fist.

After years and years of painful disappointment, Y/N finally learned that some dreams were better off forgotten.

“Hurry up unless you wanna be late,” Billy called over his shoulder as he strolled out door, and Susan waved as the Hargrove-Mayfield siblings made their way toward Billy’s Camaro.

Y/N scoffed. Max wasn’t even wearing a jacket.

The ride to the middle school was silent, save for Billy’s music blasting from the stereo. Y/N spent it fidgeting with her hands in her lap, looking down at her nails that Max had painted the night before. She’d been so excited for this only hours ago, and now all she felt was unloved and unwanted, haunted by the hole in her heart that her mother had carved all those years ago.

Max was out of the car as soon as Billy pulled into a parking spot, anxious to see Lucas and wanting to avoid whatever crude comments Billy was planning to make before she stepped out. “Out by nine!” Billy yelled after her, and Max didn’t falter in her stride as she flipped him the bird and kept walking.

“Little shit,” Billy mumbled.

Y/N was a lot less eager to get inside, now unsure whether she even wanted to go at all. She felt stupid in her best dress shoes and ironed skirt, the glittery shadow she’d applied to her eyelids only minutes earlier now heavy on her skin. No matter how much she dressed up she was still the same child her mother decided she was better off without.

“You getting out or what?” Billy drawled, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he watched her through the rearview mirror. Y/N sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“No, I think . . . let’s just go back.” Billy pulled a face, turning in his seat to meet her eyes.

“The Hell do you mean? You’ve been blabbing about going to this shitty dance for weeks, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well. I changed my mind,” Y/N mumbled, and Billy scoffed, turning back to stare out at the kids crowding the school’s entrance. Kids with their mothers wishing them well and fathers watching proudly as their children prepared for what Billy imagined would be the absolute lamest excuse of a ball that the world would ever see.

He took another greedy drag, running his hands through his hair. “Is it ‘cause I called you a geek?”

“No.”

“‘Cause if it is you oughtta stop being such a baby.”

“I said it wasn’t!” Y/N snapped. She paused, expecting her brother to go off on some power trip about her attitude, but Billy didn’t even twitch in the driver’s seat as he nursed his Marlboro Red. She sighed. “Let’s just go, okay? Please.”

But he didn’t. In fact, Billy made a point of making himself comfortable, carrying on smoking without a care in the world.

“Billy?” He ignored her, taking another long drag followed by another exhale, and repeating the pattern. “Billy!”

“Shut up,” He spat, and she begrudgingly resumed waiting in silence as her brother smoked. It took several minutes before he got to the end of the cig, and Y/N watched as he stepped out of the Camaro, slamming the door behind him and crushing the bud beneath his heel.

“Get out,” he said simply. Y/N only sat, frozen in her confusion. “What, are you deaf? I said get out.”

“What are you doing?”

“Goddamn it, Y/N, get out of the car!”

She sighed, obeying her brother with an aggravated look on her face. Billy didn’t wait for her as he started on his walk across the parking lot. He only swivelled on his heels when he realized that she wasn’t following him, and was in fact still planted next to the Camaro with furrowed brows. Billy made a big show of rolling his eyes. “Jesus Christ, do I need to hold your goddamned hand or what? Get a move on, shithead.”

“Wha—Billy!” He continued to walk, avoiding her as she yelled after him. “Ugh!” Y/N groaned, relenting as she speed-walked behind him in attempts not to draw too much attention to herself. Passerbyers were already starting to give her strange looks when she yelled for him, and the last thing she wanted right now were people's eyes on her.

“Billy what are you doing? I already told you I don’t wanna go in!” Y/N started as soon as she was close enough, though not fully caught up to him. Her brother’s legs were much longer than hers, which made one of his strides maybe three of hers. “Will you just stop? I said I w—”

“You look cute, alright?”

His words threw Y/N for a loop. She paused mid-step, considering whether that really just came out of her brother’s mouth or if she’d only hallucinated it. The honk of a car trying get past her was what wound up pulling Y/N from her trance, and Billy groaned as he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her up onto the sidewalk next to him.

“Christ, Y/N. Can you use your fucking head for a second?”

“What did you just say?” Y/N asked softly, ignoring his crude comment and searching his eyes for something Billy couldn’t place. He shoved his hands in his pockets, deeply uncomfortable in his current position.

“You heard me,” He said after a moment, and Y/N was surprised that he even acknowledged what he’d said. Billy Hargrove wasn’t one to give compliments—especially not to his shitty little sister. “‘M not gonna say it again.”

“Did you mean it?”

“If I knew you were gonna harp on it so much I wouldn’t’ve said shit, alright?” He scratched awkwardly at his neck, casually avoiding his sister’s large eyes as she stared at him like he was someone she’d never met before. “Look, Y/N. I waited for you to get ready for this thing for a goddamned hour. If you’re telling me I did that shit just to take you right back home I’m gonna be pissed.”

“I . . . I don’t know if I should—”

“I do,” Billy said, pointing at the opened doors of her school. “Go. But I’d better see your ass on the curb by nine, you got that?”

Y/N felt herself smiling, even as Billy fixed her with yet another one of his bored stares. You look cute. She couldn’t shake the words from her head, nor the sincerity with which he'd said them.

“Got it.” Billy only nodded before starting on his way back to the Camaro, car keys in hand. “Hey, Billy?” She called after him just as he crossed the street, and he fixed her with a glare.

“What is it now?”

“Thank you,” Y/N said sweetly. Billy scoffed, averting his gaze and mumbling a whatever under his breath.

・❥・

Y/N looked around in wonder at the gymnasium, taking in the many decorations strung around what served as the ‘dance floor’ and navigating her way through groups of her dancing peers.

She found the Party near the snack table (figures) and blushed as the boys stood slack-jawed and wide eyed as she approached them.

“Hey guys,” She greeted. Max rolled her eyes at the boys’ reaction, smacking Dustin upside the head before the kid started to drool.

"Ow!" Max ignored him, shooting a smile Y/N's way.

“Hey, Y/N.” Y/N shoved in next to her step-sister at the snack table, grabbing herself a solo cup and filling it up with punch. “What took you so long? Was Billy being an asshole again?”

Yeah, she thought, he was. He was being an asshole just like he always was, but even more than that, he was being her big brother. The same big brother who beat up her bullies, and who bandaged her wounds, and who wouldn’t let her miss out on something he knew she’d been excited for.

He was an asshole, and he cared about her. That much he could never deny.

“Something like that,” Y/N responded, and Max gave her a confused look as she smiled.

[enchanted-day-dreams]

Billy Hargrove fandom doesn't talk enough about him being a secret romantic, as implied by Dacre in that one interview where he talked about Billy wanting a date under the stars. Like, I can't imagine he'd just pull that shit with some random hookup unless he REALLY wanted in their pants, but with someone he has genuine feelings for and felt like he could trust? I think he'd be very romantic, do all the sappy shit they might assume he'd hate.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

my favourite part of making Billy and Chrissy best friends (or more) is that they give each other what the other needs

like, Chrissy has this softness about her that is undeniable and she's feminine and comfortable in that, she has no problem being soft but she's also very hurt (just like Billy)

and Billy is hardened by the abuse of his father, his softness is hidden under that hard shell that's thickened over the years, to a point where he doesn't feel it anymore

but Chrissy can soften him, she could bring that sweetness out of him with her gentle smile and kindness, while Billy can remind her that she does have a voice and she can use it to defend herself

I believe they're two sides of the same coin and I will forever love these two 🤍

[batsbratsandbarbedwire]

I need more of Steve Harrington beating the ever loving shit out of a demogorgon and then getting put on his knees and called babygirl.

Lots of yall forget babygirl's a badass.

[shieldofiron]

Steve: Ugh and I started blathering and then he survived and now I don't know what to do, Robs.

[justice4billiam]

So I know everyone's always talking about nsfw with Billy and that's great but what if a girl just wanted to be his bsf? She (forcefully) move dhim in with her and she gets him Christmas presents, and she bakes and cooks for him and just loves him like soulmates, but not romantically??? You think he'd like this???

Now that I've dumped my Brain on you hi I'm Lillie <3 you don't have tow rite this tysm!

Billy Hargrove x PlatonicFem!reader

Word count: 6,083

Warnings: Nothing too bad. Just Billy being Billy. So, cussing but maybe even a little less of himself actually.

Author’s Note: GURL, I am so sorry. I held onto this for SO long and I didn't mean for it to be over 6k words lmao I am so hard on myself when it comes to writing but I decided to just let it free. Nice to meet you, Lillie. ❤️ I hope you like it.

Platonic Soul...Whatever

“Get in here,” you snapped, yanking your best friend into the living room by the scruff of his jacket.

He’d been holed up in the spare room, hiding out like an antisocial pussycat.

Billy huffed, his eyes rolling, clearly pissed at the night you’d planned. But he kept his mouth shut, letting you drag him in without a fight.

You were in the middle of having a housewarming party for the new apartment you moved into last week and the whole gang was there much to Billy’s dismay.

“What’s going on?” you asked, keeping your voice low to keep it just between you two.

Billy was always weird at the get togethers, but he had been getting better at it. Friendly even. But today he was different. Something was eating at him, and it was worrying you.

“And don’t give me ‘nothing.’ I’m not dumb.” You shot him a look that meant business.

He scrunched up his face, lips pressed tight, and looked at you like he was weighing his words.

“It’s nothing,” he said at last. “Just… the usual crap back home.” He shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but at you.

“Billy…did he—” you started, your eyes scanning him for any sign of trouble.

He shook his head quickly.

“No, not this time. But I gotta head out early tonight, okay?” His blue eyes were hard when he looked at you.

To anyone else, it might look like anger, but you knew it was something else. Sadness. And it looked all kinds of wrong on him.

You wanted to dig deeper, but now wasn’t the time, not with everyone else around.

You gave him another once-over, didn’t see any harm, and nodded.

“Alright, Hargrove.”

He let out a sigh of relief, probably glad he didn’t have to spill it all.

You noticed his hand twitch toward his pocket, then drop. He remembered the no-smoking rule in your place. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright,” you said, fixing his jacket and giving him a pat.

“Go have your smoke. When you’re ready, come back in.” You winked, letting him know it was cool.

Billy’s head shake was subtle, his face drawn tight. “But, its colder than balls out there.”

It was early December, and the chill was just setting in—nothing compared to what was coming. But Billy always had a thing against the cold. You almost laughed, suddenly thinking back to last winter when he’d ended up ass-first in a snowbank outside your old place.

The guy never gave a damn about rules, but here he was, actually listening to you for once.

You sighed, half-exasperated, half-resigned.

“Fine, light up in the spare room, but for God’s sake, open the damn window.”

He gave a snort, that smug look taking over.

“Cheers, darlin’. The fine women of Hawkins will be singing your praises for saving my… assets from frostbite.”

Classic Billy, always with a line.

“Ewe, dramatic much?” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you headed for the kitchen.

————

As it grew late, the place began to clear out. Nancy and Jonathan, along with their group, were among the first to leave.

You couldn’t help but feel an excitement for Nancy and Jonathan—they’d just spilled they were heading to Emerson College in Boston after the summer.

Nancy’s grip was firm, her eyes like deep pools in the dim light.

“You sure you won’t come with?” she pressed, searching your face for a sign.

Jonathan was all half-smiles and shrugs as he stepped up beside her.

“We could hide you in a suitcase,” he joked, his arm finding its home around Nancy’s shoulders.

You let out a laugh, a short, sharp sound.

“I’ll stick to my own bed, but thanks,” you shot back, catching Billy’s eye for a moment. He was leaning against the wall, a silent lookout.

You weren’t about to ditch without Billy. He was anchored here until Max was done with high school.

That was the unspoken rule between you two. Max was in the dark, but you and Billy had spent a night diving deep into that conversation—his fears of leaving her to deal with Neil alone.

Billy and Max’s relationship had gotten better since that October at the Byers’.

They still snapped at each other like firecrackers, but that was just their way. You’d grown to love having them around.

Max was like the scrappy little sister you’d picked up along the way.

But Billy was different.

He was your solid ground, your constant. You didn’t need to spell things out for him; he just got it. He could dial down your stress with a glance, and you could temper his anger without a word.

It reminded you of something you’d read in a dog-eared book that you checked out from the library: platonic soulmates.

That was the label for what you had with Billy—no bullshit, no fuss, just an unspoken understanding that ran deep.

Billy scoffed at the soulmate idea, brushing it off as a load of crap. But when the book you’d been quoting mysteriously disappeared after that heart-to-heart, you didn’t need three guesses to know who’d snagged it. You let it slide, settling the library fine without a word. It was a small price to pay for the bond you shared with your so-called platonic soulmate.

“The offer’s open,” Nancy reiterated, her voice trailing off as she and the others made their way out.

Mike and Will managed half-hearted waves from the doorway, while El gave you a tight squeeze around the waist before moving on to Billy.

He tensed up, his eyes darting to you in a silent plea for rescue as El’s arms wrapped around him.

You stifled a chuckle. El was the only one brave enough to tackle Billy with affection.

Maybe it was her history with real monsters that made Billy’s temper seem trivial. Or perhaps it was her upbringing with Hopper, another man known for his temperament.

Billy cleared his throat, a hint of discomfort in his voice.

“Okay, don’t need all that,” he mumbled, gently disentangling himself from El’s embrace and stepping back.

His expression grew even more puzzled when El simply beamed at him.

Max stepped in, her arm around El, guiding her towards the door.

"Yeah, El, don't you know?" Max exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at Billy, mischief twinkling in her eyes.

"He's like the Grinch or whatever." She continued, her hands waving about as they walked to the front door.

"He doesn't want to be hugged and cared for because his heart will grow too big for his body, and if you haven't noticed, he already has to worry about falling over with all that hair on top of his head." Her smirk was infectious.

Billy shot Max a flat, unamused look, but you and Mike couldn’t contain your snorts of laughter, which you tried to mask with a cough as Billy’s gaze turned to you.

El, puzzled, studied Billy’s unruly mane and then glanced at Steve’s voluminous hair in the kitchen.

“I don’t see any problem,” she commented innocently.

‘If anyone should be worried, I think Steve would fall over first.’ She glanced between Max, Mike, and you, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

You rolled your eyes as you watched Billy smile smugly as Steve turned toward them upon hearing his name.

Steve looked over, his eyebrow raised in question.

“What’s this about my hair?” he asked, his hand automatically fluffing his locks.

Mike, clearly over the day, rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go, El,” he said, taking her hand and leading her out after the others.

“See ya,” Will murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he followed behind, giving a small wave to the remaining group before disappearing into the night.

You caught a glimpse of his downcast eyes and wondered what could have made him so down.

Steve exhaled a weary breath, the kind that’s been through too many late nights and too early mornings. “Gotta head out,” he said, a half-hearted grin on his face. “New job at the Hunting & Camping store starts tomorrow morning.”

Your eyes narrowed, a quick glance thrown to Steve, then to Robin, who was playing cards at the kitchen table with Lucas and Dustin.

“What about Family Video?” you asked, your voice edged with a hint of suspicion, but it was Robin you were counting on for the truth.

You also worked at Family Video, but whispers of Steve quitting hadn’t reached your ears.

The thought alone was enough to unsettle you. Work with him was one of the few highlights in a job that could often be boring. You really hoped he wasn’t; you genuinely enjoyed working with your two close friends.

Robin didn’t even look up from her cards.

“Don’t worry, he’s still with us,” she called out, her voice steady over the clatter of the game.

“Royal flush!” She stood up, her shout a victory cry.

“Deal with it, boys!” she taunted, pointing at the boys who just shook their heads in defeat.

Lucas was all frustration and disbelief.

“How does she always pull this off?” he muttered, throwing his hands up in surrender.

Dustin’s chair scraped loudly as he stood, his face a mix of annoyance and admiration.

“She’s got some kind of magic or she’s cheating!” he accused, his finger jabbing in Robin’s direction.

Robin’s laugh was sharp and bright.

“I’m not cheating,” she shot back, her hands on her hips, her stance all defiance. “It’s just you two dinguses can’t play.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Take it easy, you three,” you said, the sarcasm dripping from every word.

You turned back to Steve, your expression softening just a bit.

“Two jobs, huh?” you said, the tease clear in your voice. “Looks like Harrington’s playing the adult card now.”

Steve’s smile was a blend of resignation and a challenge.

“Dad’s cut me off,” he admitted, a hard edge to his voice. “All about ‘earning my keep’ now. So, I’m doing it my way.”

You nodded, feeling that familiar tug of empathy.

Your own parents had given you the boot when you ditched the college route. They couldn’t wrap their heads around why you’d stick around this nowhere town.

Your fingers twisted together, the old sting of ‘failure’ creeping back up. But then there was Billy, his hand finding yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was his silent way of saying, “We’ve got this.”

You looked up, catching Billy’s eyes. They were a clear, steady blue, like the sky after a storm. His smile was quick, a silent conversation passing between you two without a word.

“Well, anyway…” Steve’s voice broke through as everyone started to pick up their stuff.

The goodbyes were thrown around, even Billy’s nod to Steve was surprisingly chill, a small sign that maybe, just maybe, there was some common ground to be found. You clung to that hope, that small nod, as the night came to an end.

After the rest left through the front door, you caught Steve’s arm before he could leave.

“Hey, I gotta tell you, I’m really proud of you,” you said, your voice carrying the weight of genuine respect.

“It’s tough, starting new,” you added, a glance at the nearly empty space to signify you really did get it.

Steve’s smile was quick and sincere.

“Thanks, Y/n. Means a lot, you know? And hey, we’re overdue for that movie night,” he suggested with a playful wink, pulling his jacket closer as a cold draft slipped through the open door.

Your eyes fell on the new TV, with its built-in VHS player—Steve’s housewarming gift to you.

It was a generous thought, but it felt like too much. You’d insisted he take it back, but the bulky set remained, a silent testament to Steve’s stubbornness. He’d assured you it was no big deal, that it was better off here, getting some use.

You acknowledged his gesture with a nod, your face stoic but your eyes hinting at a silent vow to make the most of his gift with endless movie nights.

As Steve’s grin widened, he stepped out into the night, his laughter blending with the voices of Robin, Dustin, and Lucas as they disappeared down the street. You watched from the doorway, the figures of your friends growing smaller in the distance.

Billy’s voice cut in from behind, a dismissive edge to his tone. “Count me out for movie night.”

You turned, a smirk playing on your lips.

“Too bad, Billy,” you retorted, the playful challenge clear in your voice. “You’re coming, whether you like it or not.”

He was about to argue when Max’s anxious voice interrupted.

“We should go too,” she said, her eyes darting around, signaling something was wrong.

A wave of concern washed over you.

“What’s the rush?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. “It’s not even eight.”

Billy’s curfew was a constant shadow, ten o’clock sharp, a little later if Max was with him. You knew the rules too well, had seen the consequences on his skin—bruises and cuts he’d dismiss with a hollow laugh.

But there was that one night, the truth spilling out in the dark, his voice a low rumble at your window. “My dad,” he’d said, the words heavy with unspoken pain.

“Max, get your coat,” Billy’s voice was tight as he flung the door open again. He pulled out his cigarettes, his movements tense.

His hands shook as he tried to light one, and you stepped in, your hand steady, lighting it for him.

“Billy,” you said, your voice low, “everything alright?”

He glanced away, then back at you, a forced smirk on his face.

“Just gotta be home early,” he lied, smoke trailing from his lips.

You nodded, the unspoken words hanging heavy.

“If you need anything…”

He gave a small nod, a silent understanding.

“I know. See you later,” he said, and then he was gone, his figure blending into the night, Max following close behind.

You closed the door, the silence of the apartment heavy around you.

In the quiet, you made a silent vow to always be there for Billy, to stand by him as you had that night he confessed. It was a promise made without words, one you intended to keep.

————

The clock’s red glare read 1:27 a.m., the only light in the otherwise dark room.

The soft creak of the door was like a whisper, but it jolted you awake.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sat up, squinting into the darkness.

The light from the hallway cut a sharp outline around a familiar figure—Billy, the only other person with a key to your place.

“Billy?” Your voice was thick, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep.

As your hand reached out for the lamp, his figure moved closer, a shadow in the half-light.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, and his hand was on yours, guiding it away from the lamp. His touch was cold, sending a shiver up your arm.

“Are you okay?” The words were barely a whisper, concern threading through them as you climbed out of bed, reaching into the darkness towards him.

He sniffed, a sound so faint you might have missed it if the room wasn’t so deathly quiet.

“I’m…” he started, his voice barely there, then clearer, “No.” It was a stark admission, cutting through the silence.

“Oh, Bill…” you breathed out, your arms finding their way around his rigid form. Your hands rested gently on his neck, and you felt him lean into the embrace, his own arms wrapping around you.

A shuddering breath escaped him, betraying the facade of control he always tried to maintain. His head rested heavily on your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body beginning to unravel.

The silence was broken only by his occasional shivers, and you felt the dampness on your shirt where his tears had soaked through.

“We’ll get this sorted,” you said, trying to infuse your voice with confidence as you reached out to touch his cheek.

But he pulled back sharply, a quick intake of breath hissing through clenched teeth.

You flicked on the light, and the room was suddenly too bright, too real.

The sight made you pause—a large, open cut above his eye, blood running down, sticking to his lashes, pooling around his now swollen-shut eye.

He raised his hand, a silent plea for patience.

“It looks worse than it actually is,” he insisted, his voice strained. You noticed his lip, swollen and split, distorting his words.

You stood there, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

This was more than just a late-night visit; it was a cry for help. And you were determined to answer it.

“Let’s clean you up,” you said firmly, ready to do whatever it took to help your friend.

“We’ll figure out the rest after.” The promise was unspoken but as solid as the ground beneath your feet. You were in this together, no matter what.

Billy’s nod, small and pained, told you he understood.

After the long, meticulous process of cleaning him up with the first aid kit, the two of you now sat at the dining table, the silence filled with the soft clinks of the kit being put away.

The tension had eased somewhat, replaced by the quiet understanding that always seemed to exist between you two.

Billy’s face, now cleaned of blood, showed the stark reality of his life at home, but here, in the safety of your apartment, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability.

You were just about to speak when an urgent knocking on your door cut through the stillness.

You exchanged a puzzled look with him before you got up to answer it, Billy close behind you as you did.

Max stood there, her eyes wide with concern.

“I had to make sure he was okay,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Billy’s expression hardened for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out so late, Max?” he asked, his tone a mix of anger and concern.

Max’s gaze flickered to you before settling back on Billy.

“I couldn’t sleep not knowing if you were… if you were safe,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stepped aside, letting her in, and she moved directly to Billy, her small hand reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Billy’s initial irritation faded as he looked at his sister, his eyes softening.

“I’m here, I’m okay,” he reassured her, his voice more gentle than you’d heard in a long time.

The three of you sat around the table, a makeshift family in the middle of the night, bound together.

You watched them, the siblings who had been through so much, and felt a fierce protectiveness rise within you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” you said, your voice firm, catching both their gazes. “Billy’s staying here now. He’s not going back to that house.”

Max’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, a look of relief passing over her face.

Billy just sat there, his eyes on the tabletop, his jaw clenched.

You knew he was wrestling with the decision, the weight of years of abuse and control not something he could shrug off easily.

But you also knew that this was the only way forward.

“You’re safe here, Billy. This is your home now,” you said, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “We’re in this together.”

Billy looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours, and in them, you saw the flicker of hope that had been absent for so long.

He nodded, a silent acceptance of the new reality.

Max stayed for a while longer, until her eyes grew heavy with sleep, and you set up the couch for her to crash on.

As you turned off the lights and headed back to your room, Billy followed.

The room was silent, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, almost tangible.

Billy lay beside you, his body a rigid line of tension and unspoken pain. The darkness seemed to press in closer as he hesitated, then spoke into the void between you.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was a low rumble, barely more than a breath. “Me living here… and Max. What if something happens when I’m not there?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you let the silence answer. You thought about the weight of his words, the gravity of the decision he was facing. It wasn’t just about him; it was about Max, too, about breaking away from the life he knew, no matter how broken it was.

“I’m sure,” you finally said, your voice a soft but firm counterpoint to the darkness. “You can’t keep putting yourself through hell. And Max… she’s safer with us than she is in that house.”

He was silent, and you imagined you could hear the cogs turning in his head, weighing your words against his own fears and doubts.

“And what about Neil?” His question was a whisper, but it might as well have been a shout in the stillness of the room.

You took a deep breath, feeling the resolve settle in your bones.

“We’ll deal with Neil if we have to. But you… you need to be safe first. We both know if you stay there, it’s only going to get worse.”

Billy shifted beside you, a rustle of movement in the dark. “I just… I don’t want to leave her alone with him.”

“Max won’t be alone. She’s got us, and she’s got you. And she’s always welcome here, anytime. This place is as much a home for her as it is for you.”

There was a long pause, and you felt the moment stretch out, a bridge spanning the gap between fear and hope.

“Okay,” he said at last, the word a small surrender to the inevitable. “Okay.”

You reached out, finding his hand in the darkness, and squeezed it. It was a promise, a vow made without words, that you’d stand by him, come what may.

The night deepened around you, but in that shared silence, a new understanding was forged. You and Billy, against whatever the world might throw your way. Together. And that was enough. For now, it had to be.

————

Your apartment was filled with holiday atmosphere, the first true place you both made your own. The smell of pine mixed with the smell of pasta sauce that was cooking, a new recipe you were trying out in hopes it would become an annual thing.

Christmas was right around the corner, and the excitement was as heavy as the garland hanging on the walls.

Billy was due back any minute from his second job at the auto shop, a position he’d taken up since moving in. The days were long, and the work was hard, but Billy told you he enjoyed the job. That was all that mattered, you supposed.

You had the day off and had spent it transforming the apartment to feel more festive.

Billy’s arrival was indicated by the sound of the door swinging open, his frame filling the entryway as he stepped in from the cold. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the festive transformation with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, revealing the smudges of grease on his forearms.

“Yeah, but I left the tree for us to do,” you said, gesturing towards the undecorated tree standing in the corner.

He grunted in acknowledgment, a sound that was almost a laugh, and headed for the shower, leaving heavy footprints in his wake. You seized the moment to call Max, knowing she’d jump at the chance to join in.

When we finally sat down for dinner, the table was like a little patch of food surrounded by all the crazy decorations.

Billy’s first bite was met with a nod of approval.

“This is way better than Susan’s cooking,” he declared, the corners of his mouth turning up as he chewed.

Max chimed in, her voice muffled by a mouthful of pasta, “Yeah, beats the hell out of it.”

“If you keep cooking like this, I’m gonna end up fat,” Billy joked, patting his stomach, though his tone suggested he wouldn’t mind that outcome.

“That’s what the exercise equipment’s for,” you quipped, pointing towards the hulking mass of different metals that dominated half the living room.

When Billy first lugged his gym gear into the apartment, neither of you had really thought through where all of it would go.

The living room quickly became a makeshift gym, with dumbbells, a bench, a barbell, and weight plates claiming their spots among the furniture. It was a bit of a mess, but it was a lived-in mess, a sign of life happening in real-time.

You didn’t mind, though. In fact, you found a certain charm in the chaos. With the holidays approaching, you got creative, weaving tinsel and garland through the iron grips of the weights and draping festive cheer over the cold steel of the barbell. It was an odd juxtaposition, sure, but it worked. The living room was transformed into a space that was uniquely ‘you and Billy’—a little rough around the edges, but full of heart.

After dinner, the three of you approached the tree. Billy picked up an ornament, examining it with a critical eye before hanging it on a sturdy branch.

“Never had much use for these things,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of nostalgia he’d never admit to.

Max laughed, reaching for a trinket. “Come on, it’s not so bad. Looks good, even.”

The evening wore on, filled with the clinking of ornaments and the occasional deep chuckle from Billy as he recounted stories from last year’s Christmas you all celebrated together then too.

You noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at the tree, the way his rough exterior gave way to a quiet appreciation for the moment.

It was a simple night, but it was laced with the promise of many more to come.

As you all stepped back to admire the now-decorated tree, Billy’s arm brushed against yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared experience.

“Not bad for our first tree,” he said, and you could hear the unspoken thanks in his voice.

————

The oven’s chime signaled the cookies were ready, a sweet aroma mingling with the crisp winter air that Billy let in each time he cracked the door for a smoke.

He stood in the doorway, a barbell in hand, half-watching the MTV countdown, half-engrossed in his workout.

“You’re letting in a draft,” you said, pulling the cookies out and setting them on the stove.

Billy took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him. “Well, if someone would let me smoke inside…”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you walked over to him.

“You know the rules,” you reminded him, standing close enough to feel the cold air he was letting in. “Besides, I don’t want our cookies tasting like smoke.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he mockingly conceded, taking one last drag before you nudged him out the door with a laugh, quickly shutting it behind him to keep the warmth in.

You darted away, but Billy was quick, shoving the door open and dropping the barbell with a thud as he chased after you.

His laughter mixed with yours as you ran down the hallway, the playful chase a familiar dance between you two.

You ducked into his room, thinking you’d won, but a misstep had you tripping over something unexpected. Both of you tumbled to the floor, a mess of limbs and uncontrollable laughter.

“Clutz,” Billy teased, but there was no heat in it, just the warm humor that had become a staple of your interactions.

“It’s not my fault, it’s this—” you protested, sitting up to see what had tripped you. In your hand was the missing book, Platonic Soulmates. You turned to him with a triumphant smirk.

“I knew it!” you exclaimed. “You did take it!”

Billy scoffed, trying to maintain his innocent facade.

“Must’ve gotten mixed up with your stuff,” he said, but the sheepish look in his eyes betrayed him.

You shook your head, the smile on your face impossible to contain. Billy sighed, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

“Alright, maybe… maybe we’re like platonic… soul… whatever,” he grumbled, finally admitting to the bond you both knew was there.

The laughter had died down, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. You both lay on the floor, the carpet’s coarse fibers imprinting on your skin.

Billy stretched out beside you, his presence a solid comfort as you both stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

The world outside seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of tranquility. It was a rare moment of stillness for Billy.

Then, his voice broke the silence, soft yet carrying a weight that filled the room. “Thank you.”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “For what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Billy’s voice was gruff, a stark contrast to the softness of the moment.

“Thanks for stickin’ around,” he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he was addressing the room rather than you.

“Seems like everyone’s always after something. Neil… he wanted me to fall in line. People at school just wanted to ride the wave of whatever popularity I had. And the girls, well, they didn’t look much past the surface, did they? But you… you’re different. You never wanted anything but to hang out. That means something. So, yeah… thanks.”

Billy’s words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. They settled around you, heavy with the weight of a life that hadn’t been kind. You felt a surge of something fierce and protective, a sadness for the battles he’d fought alone.

“You don’t owe me thanks, Billy. That’s what friends do,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the emotional fog.

Billy’s gaze met yours, a silent conversation passing between you. His eyes, a clear blue that had seen too much, held a gratitude that was raw and real.

You both took a moment, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of his words. It was a pause that said everything without a single word spoken.

“You’ve got me, no matter what,” you said, the promise as solid as the ground beneath you.

After a deep breath, you stood up, offering Billy a hand.

“Come on, I baked you cookies,” you said, a gentle nudge towards the simplicity of everyday life.

Billy took your hand, rising to his feet.

“Alright,” he conceded, a hint of a smile on his face. He paused, a playful challenge in his eyes.

“So, about smoking in the house—”

“Nope,” you cut him off with a chuckle, already heading to the kitchen. “Not happening, Hargrove.”

He followed, his chuckle a low rumble that filled the room.

“Worth a try,” he said, the mischief still alive in his voice.

————

Christmas morning broke with a spirited truth that no holiday movie could capture.

The apartment was quiet, except for the soft hum of the heater and the distant sounds of the outside world waking up.

You were determined to share this moment with Billy, to give him a taste of something genuine and heartfelt before the chaos of the party preparations began.

You found Billy still buried under his blankets, his room a stubborn sanctuary of everyday life among the holiday transformation of the rest of the apartment.

“Billy, come on. Just one present before we start the day,” you insisted, your voice cutting through the silence as you tugged at his arm.

His response was a gruff murmur, an indication to his dislike to mornings.

After a bit of coaxing, he relented and followed you into the living room, his body language a silent complaint against the cold that greeted his bare skin.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of Christmas lights, the tree standing like a flare of the season’s good spirits.

Billy, hair tousled and eyes half-closed, slumped onto the couch, clad only in his red plaid sleep pants.

You joined him, draping a throw blanket over both of you to fend off the chill. Then, with a gentle motion, you placed a small, wrapped gift onto his lap.

He eyed the present with a mix of curiosity and a hint of that guarded look he always had.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Of course I did. You’re my best friend,” you replied, watching as he unwrapped the gift with hands that were more used to handling tools than delicate wrapping paper.

The keychain, a small silver house, caught the light as he held it up. It was a simple thing, but it was heavy with meaning.

“It represents us finding our place. Our home,” you explained, your voice low but clear in the quiet of the room.

Billy was silent for a long moment, the keychain turning slowly in his hand.

“I’ve never really had something like this,” he admitted, his voice a low rumble. “A place that actually feels like home.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you.

“Well, you do now. And we’re going to make sure it’s a damn good one.”

Billy’s smile was a rare sight, his brows furrowing as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the softer emotions.

He stood up, the blanket falling to the side, and shuffled out of the room with a gruff, “Hang on.”

You watched, curious and touched, as he disappeared down the hall. Moments later, he returned, something concealed in his hand.

“Got something for you,” he said, his voice rough around the edges.

“What is it?” you asked, leaning forward with interest as he sat down across from you.

“Just… give me your hand,” Billy instructed, his usual brass demeanor faltering slightly.

You complied, placing your hand in his, feeling the calluses on his palm—a testament to his hard work.

“Close your eyes,” he added, a hint of command still in his voice.

You rolled your eyes but did as told, a smile on your face. “Always so dramatic,” you teased.

There was a pause, and then Billy’s voice, softer now, “Alright, open.”

When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of a bracelet made of sea glass on your wrist. The colors were a myriad of blues and greens, like the ocean he so loved.

“You made this?” you gasped, your eyes lifting to meet his. He looked back at you, a mix of pride and something similar to vulnerability.

“It’s from that beach in California I told you about,” he explained, his fingers gently turning the bracelet on your wrist.

“That place was my escape, you know? And now, well, you’re kinda like that for me here.”

You sat up, touched by his words and the sentiment behind the gift. “Thank you, Billy. This means a lot.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a half-smile.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he joked, but you could tell he was pleased.

In response, you reached out and pulled him into a hug, a gesture that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It was a thank you, a promise, and an acknowledgment of everything you’d been through together.

“Now come on, get ready,” you said, standing up and pulling him to his feet. “You’re helping me with the Christmas party food, whether you like it or not.”

Billy grumbled, a mock scowl forming on his face.

“You just like bossing me around,” he said, but there was no real annoyance in his voice, just the comfortable banter that had become the foundation of your friendship.

“Don’t be ungrateful,” you laughed, giving his arm a playful swat.

Billy’s laughter, deep and genuine, filled the room.

It was moments like these that reminded you why being Billy’s friend was worth every second.

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Steve blinks, looks around and processes that he’s in a hospital. He doesn’t remember getting here, which isn’t a great sign. It also doesn’t look familiar; definitely not Stroger, Sinai, Northwestern or even Hawkins Health. He takes a few deep breaths and relaxes a bit when the movement doesn’t hurt his chest. Checks his arms next, lifting both out, bending at the elbow, turning his wrists and flexing his fingers. Once he’s sure everything is accounted for, he moves onto his legs. He’s still wearing his uniform pants, though his shin, knee pads and skates are missing. He can bend his knees and wiggle his toes, and his ankles twist back and forth easily. Next, Steve opens his mouth, and his jaw hurts on the left side a little, but not an exuberant amount.

Robin clears her throat and he jumps a little, turning to look at her with wide eyes. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room. “Finished your self-assessment?” She asks, and he feels his face heat up. “What do you remember?”

Steve fights through the brain fog— again, not a great sign— before he settles on his last memory.

“On the ice at Crypto?” He asks. She doesn’t answer, waiting for him to elaborate like she always does when he has concussions. “I, uh. Think it was the second period? I had just swapped in, I think? I was chasing the puck, got it, passed it off, and…” he trails off, frowning at his hands, stained a red-brown color. It was caked around his fingernails, thicker in the creases of his skin. “And Billy hit me. Right? That’s what happened?”

“Well, you remember more than I expected you to.” Robin eventually sighs, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. “They’ve got you on concussion protocol.”

“Fuck,” Steve grumbles, reaching his hand up with the intention of rubbing at his eyes, but Robin catches his wrist and stops him.

“Don’t touch your face.” She’s stern, and Steve frowns. Nothing hurts on his face, besides the little twinge in his jaw. But then it clicks that he must be on some type of painkiller.

“Morphine makes me throw up.” He says, and Robin gives him a soft smile. 

“I know, babe.” 

He’s quiet for a long moment before he lays his head back and sighs. “How bad is it?”

“You’re going to need quite a few stitches, but they ran scans when we first got here to see if anything in there is broken,” Robin explains, and Steve groans.

“So it’s pretty bad, then.” He absorbs this information, efforts to retain it and not lose it into the brain fog.

“You skated off the ice on your own, if that’s any consolation.” Robin gives him a small smile, which Steve tries to return because it does make him feel better. But smiling seems to spark more pain than opening his mouth had, and he can definitely feel the pull of whatever bandages are attached to the side of his face.

Someone knocks at the door, and Steve prepares himself to be overwhelmed by medical terminology from some ER doctor looking to over-explain whatever is happening with his face, but he’s surprised to see Eddie there, instead.

“Oh, hey,” Steve mumbles, frowns and pats his pockets. “Sorry, did I text you? I don’t remember.”

“Eddie texted me, I told him he could come,” Robin says, and Steve visibly pauses his search to look at Robin, then toward Eddie.

“Hi,” Eddie offers, soft and quiet, looking a little paler than usual. “I, uh. Saw what happened. Worried about you.”

“Steve doesn’t remember everything yet, so don’t tell him what happened. Not for a few more hours, at least.” Robin explains, before tapping the seat beside her. “I pulled this over so you could sit with us while we wait for the doctors to come back with his scans.”

“It looks better in person than it did on TV,” Eddie says as he moves closer, eyes trained on the left side of Steve’s face. 

“Feels heavily packed.” Steve mumbles, rolls his jaw again, and lets out a little groan when it cracks. 

“Stop that,” Robin chides, smacking at his hand gently. “Max did as much as she could to stop you from bleeding out from your face, stop trying to hurt yourself more.”

“M’not, just feels weird,” Steve mumbles back before he looks over at Eddie again. “Not sure this is going to be the most interesting way to spend your night, Eds.”

“If this is where you’ve got to be tonight, then I’ll be right here with you.” Eddie offers and Steve feels his cheeks heat up, though he’s not sure it’s noticeable because he doesn’t know what the fuck is happening with his face.

It takes what feels like an eternity for a doctor to finally come in and explain that the bone connecting his upper jaw to his eye is fractured, and the team will have to monitor how it starts to heal to see if he needs surgery. Steve asks Robin and Eddie to wait in the hallway while he gets the stitches; he’s told there are nearly 80 running through his eyebrow, around his eye socket and down into his left cheek. The bulkier part of the wound is covered with a bandage, he’s given a prescription for painkillers, and then discharged into Robin’s care. Despite her attempts to explain she has an idea of what she’s doing, she’s given a pamphlet with the signs and symptoms of a concussion. Eddie elects himself to direct Steve’s Hospital Policy wheelchair to the garage, where he’d parked his rental.

“Where to?” He asks.

“Crypto.” Steve answers before Robin can, and she frowns at him.

“They’re not going to let you play, and the game is almost over, we should just go back to the hotel.” She offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“Crypto. Please. I… even if it’s just to prove a point, I need to go back.” He holds eye contact with Eddie, who notices the start of a few bruises likely to join forces around his eye in the next few hours and days, and Eddie sighs and nods.

The drive back to the arena is short; the longest part is waiting for the security guard to scan Robin’s team-issued badge to get them inside. Steve leans up to tug at Eddie’s leather jacket once he’s parked. “Not gon’ make you wait in the car, come in with us. Won’t be long, promise.”

Steve moves right out to the rink, opens the door to the Blackhawks box and slides inside easily. There’s a moment when nobody has realized he’s there, and he grins as he taps the coach on the arm, pulling his attention off the ice for a moment. Controlled chaos erupts then, as his teammates celebrate his return. There’s hugs and shoulder pats and hair ruffles all around. When the final shift changes with just minutes left on the clock, they manage to take the lead and secure the win.

Back in the locker room, Steve packs up his bags with the rest of them, offers his congratulations, as Robin hands over his discharge paperwork to the team medics. Eddie’s hanging back by the door, visibly caught off guard when a few players offer him fist taps and polite greetings, before Steve is pressing a finger into his chest.

“Told you I needed to come back. S’good for morale and shit.” He mumbles, slurring and can’t tell if it’s from the injury or the painkillers, but Eddie smiles back at him and rolls his eyes.

“You’re a handful.” Eddie teases, and Steve tips his head thinking for a moment before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“You’ve no idea how much of a handful I am.” Steve teases back, watches as Eddie’s face lights up with delight before he snorts out a laugh.

“I think you need to try and rest off the painkillers, Big Boy.” Eddie decides, and Steve shrugs because, yeah, that’s probably not the worst idea.

“But can we get food first? I’m starving.” 

He manages to convince Eddie and Robin he can stomach Jack in the Box, orders a ridiculous amount of food, then only manages to eat his fries before he falls asleep on the sofa in the hotel room he’s sharing with Robin. 

~~~~~

Eddie swipes a taco Steve had ordered, and joins Robin on the balcony of their room after Steve falls asleep.

“Does he always order fast food like a stoner?” He muses, crunching into the hard shell, earning a laugh from Robin.

“Only when he’s genuinely high. Pain meds hit him a little harder than weed usually does, though.” She explains around a french fry.

“He can smoke?” Eddie asks, surprised. He might not know much about sports, but he was pretty sure there were usually rules in place about drug use and random testing to check for anything out of the ordinary.

“Yeah, the league doesn’t really care unless their levels are abnormally high. But a lot of players use weed for pain management because the game can be brutal on their bodies, even without assholes like Hargrove on the ice.” She looks back into the room toward where Steve is sprawled out, snoring softly. 

“I didn’t see Billy on the bench or on the ice when we got back.” Eddie offers, though it appears to be unhelpful information as Robin nods.

“He was hit with 5 minutes in the penalty box and a game misconduct, which ejected him from the game. Blackhawks are working with the league to figure out if it’s possible to prove it was a premeditated attack to see if they want to press charges against him, or if they’re just suspending him for a few games.” Robin drops her voice quieter like she doesn’t want to risk Steve overhearing, even though he’s sound asleep in another room.

“Do you think that’s what happened?” Eddie asks though he feels like he already knows the answer. Steve getting caught up in his head about this game, saying Billy is the reason the Kings are his least favorite team. All signs are pointing to a highly likely yes that Billy was retaliating for something when he hurt Steve.

Robin’s quiet for a moment, looking off into the city. “Yeah, probably.” She mumbles.

It’s weirdly soothing, the silence they’re sitting in, split by the sounds of the bustling city below them and Steve’s soft snoring inside from behind. Despite hardly knowing either Steve or Robin, Eddie feels he knows enough to be comfortable in this strange moment he’s found himself in with both of them.

~~~~

Steve wakes up a few hours later, feeling nauseous and achy. Robin’s nowhere to be found, but Eddie’s lying across her bed playing a game on his phone.

“Hey, you’re up,” Eddie smiles when he notices Steve moving around, so Steve sends a little wave in his direction. “Want me to grab you ginger ale or something from the vending machine?”

The question doesn’t fully process in Steve’s head; drowned out by the white hot pain and the urge to vomit he’s biting back. Instead of answering, he rubs gently at his right eye, still flinches, and tips his head to the side. “You stayed?”

“Well, yeah.” Eddie shrugs, sitting up so his back is against the headboard of Robin’s bed. “Told you I was going to be wherever you had to be tonight.”

Steve lets the response sink in, resists the urge to cry at how fucking sweet the guy across the room from him is, and lets out a heavy breath. “Ginger ale might help,” he eventually decides to answer.

When Eddie returns with the soda, munching on a bag of chips, Steve accepts the drink but raises his next question. “Where’s Robin?”

“She got a call from Max about an hour ago? Asked me to stay with you, but I was already planning on that.” Eddie answers, before offering the bag of chips in Steve’s direction. He shakes his head, pushing the bag back toward Eddie. The smell wasn’t making him feel less like throwing up, and the salt was sure to inevitably burn the split skin near his mouth now that he was feeling more of the injury.

“S’wrong with Max?” Steve asks, again, and Eddie gives him a grin.

“You really like to play 20 questions, huh?” Steve can’t be blamed if it takes him a moment to realize that Eddie’s referencing their previous conversations and picking on him, and flushes when he’s worked it out, but Eddie just laughs softly. He puts the bag of chips down, cracks the cap on the soda open, and plops himself down into the chair next to where Steve had been lying on the sofa. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Max, Robin didn’t elaborate past saying she called and she had to go to her.”

“S’probably freaking out about Billy,” he doesn’t mean to make the observation out loud, but Steve can’t take it back once it’s out in the world. Eddie raises an eyebrow, and Steve sighs, rests the cool soda bottle against the bandage over his cheek, and offers the short version of the explanation. “They’re step-siblings. Ex-step siblings?” Okay, maybe it’s not the shortest explanation, but Steve’s concussed. “Whatever you call the kid your ex-step dad had before he married then divorced your mom. They’re that.”

Eddie’s clearly amused at Steve’s delirium, which is mildly frustrating, but Steve allows it because he’s not being mean about his confusion. “I didn’t realize Max was related to Billy.” He observes.

Steve nods, takes another sip of the soda. “Yeah, but like I said, only on a technicality. They don’t really talk anymore.” 

“Because Billy’s an asshole?” Eddie guesses.

Steve deflates a little, thinking about it before he shrugs. “Because of me.” He answers, simply, with no explanation. He can tell that Eddie’s itching to ask for details, but he doesn’t. “You aren’t going to ask?” 

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready to.” Eddie shrugs and Steve feels a little part of himself burst into flames. He decides he wants Eddie to know, to have the background and all the information, to understand the choices Steve has made and what has led them here to this too-expensive hotel room in a city neither of them particularly cares for, with nearly a hundred stitches in Steve’s face.

“He was on the Blackhawks roster when I was drafted. And we had history from school and juniors, but we worked well together. And after a game we’d both played particularly well in, Billy came to my room and we, uh. Celebrated.” Steve explains, trying to find the best way to put things in order to explain the nature of their relationship as he picks at the wrapper from the soda bottle Eddie had gotten for him. “It became a thing, for a while. Win a game, hook up after. But then Max caught him at my place and he melted down. Cut contact completely with me, gave me a black eye at team practice the next day, and pushed to get traded. Does everything in his power to make my life hell when we’re on the ice together, now.”

Eddie’s quiet for what feels like a long time, but Steve’s sure his sense of time is skewed given his entire perception of reality feeling ever-so-slightly off-kilter. “So, you’ve hooked up with Billy Hargrove?” The comment earns Eddie a big frown, and Steve watches as he scrambles to continue. “That came out wrong, I didn’t… I just meant… I didn’t know if you actually liked guys, I guess. Not that you owe me an explanation about that.”

Steve considers his answer for a long moment, thinks about what to do. He wants to reach out and take Eddie’s hand, press it to his jaw, come out with confidence and pull the other in for a kiss. But it’s unrealistic, not how his brain is going to let him do things anyway, so instead he says, “I’m out as bisexual to everyone who counts. Robin, the Party. And now you.”

Eddie visibly softens, a small smile settling on his face. Steve takes another sip from his soda and rests his head back, only to hear movement, then feel the sofa dip beside him. When he opens his eyes again, Eddie is beside him, still wearing a soft smile. He throws his arm over the back of the sofa, behind Steve’s head, and taps his shoulder gently. “C’mon, lay back down. You gotta rest up.” He says, gently.

And Steve doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get most of the interactions he’s had since Billy knocked him for a loop, but he also doesn’t want to question the invitation. Instead, he buries the uninjured side of his face against Eddie’s t-shirt and lets his steady breathing, warmth and the faint scent of expensive but not overwhelming cologne ease him back off to sleep.

[harringroveera]

Too late, Robin, too late

[hellcheercaine]

The boy in question:

[findafight]

On the one-sided harringrove post- I feel it becomes infinitely funnier with bi steve. He likes men, just not Billy. Never Billy.

Oh yeah. When Billy fiiiirst comes to school with his music blaring Steve is head over heels for Nancy, so he might register that the guy with the Camaro and loud music has a good ass, but then billy opens his mouth and Steve is like "oh, no ass can make up for that personality." And continues with his life.

Just. Okay I like to project just a liiiiittle on Steve with him just. Not realizing his attraction to men isn't a straight thing. Like. Of course all straight people feel that way, you just kinda ignore it or don't do anything about it. So Steve is half way between being comfortable in his sexuality and being closeted to himself because buddy used Hawkeye Pierce as the blueprint of straightness.

So Billy is out here, wallowing in self hatred and internalized homophobia, hating Steve and wanting Steve and hating that he wants Steve and wishing Steve would pay attention to him enough for a hate fuck he can cry about later, and it's all very angsty. All the while Steve is just actually completely fine with thinking a dude is hot he's just got standards that include "not racist" "doesn't try to beat up kids" "hasn't made me blackout from head trauma"

Wait. Oh no. I feel an au coming on. Shit. Au where post S2 Robin hears piano coming from the band room after hours and is her curious self going "I must see who is this mysterious genius" and it's Steve. They get to talking and hanging out and all of a sudden Robin thinks they are actually good friends. Best friends. Somehow.

Cue them going to a band party together. Someone spikes their drinks with waayyyy more than they were expecting so they are blasted. Robin has to go pee but does not want to go alone so she drags Steve into the bathroom with her and makes him face away. He's like haha Woah you really had to pee. And she goes shut upppp and washes her hands but sits across from him. Steve smiles at her and gives her his speech about how amazing she is and how glad he is to be her friend (it is like March '85 so he is still not ready to get back out into dating yet). Robin tells him about Tammy. They sing. Someone slams the door open and kicks them out of the bathroom because there's a fuckin line.

They lay on the grass outside and look at the sky. Steve like. Caaaaasually mentions once having thought he was gonna marry Tommy when he was six and then realizing you just didn't do anything about those feelings and Robin's gotta shoot up going WHAT!! WHAAAT? Because it sounded like Steve coming out to her? Right after?? She came out to him??

And Steve is like yeah. Like you don't really have to? Easier to ignore it and flirt with girls who I like or think are hot. And poor Robin's brain is melting she's like please Steve I'm really drunk are you telling me you sometimes want to kiss boys? And he's like yes, obviously, everyone does. Just like everyone also wants to sometimes kiss girls. Except lesbians I guess who only want to kiss girls? And gay guys only want to kiss guy? Yeah that makes sense and straight people don't care but go for the opposite ya know?

Robin is like NO!! And calms down some and says "okay I'm telling you this because you are my friend and you just told me almost the same thing. Steve. I like girls and only like girls. That not a straight thing"

"yeah. You've said."

"but I am ninety nine percent positive that just because you like girls doesn't mean you're straight because you also like boys."

"what"

"yeah dude, I do not think this is a heterosexual experience you're describing. I'm not an expert but. Yeah.

"oh. Huh."

"yep."

"I definitely thought it was."

"your brain is so weird I'm still kind of obsessed with you."

"haha. Honestly I'm kind of obsessed with you. This is wild."

"well. At least I know you're stuck with me."

"ohhh nooooo whatever will I do with my best friend always around..."

ANYWAYS THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS is not in fact the stobin. It's actually that

Sometime probably in may, when Steve is ready to be on the dating scene again, he gets with Eddie. Robin is happy for him but also so mad because he went from "probably shouldn't act gay even tho everyone feels a little gay sometimes" to "hey Robin what would you say if I said I got a boyfriend?" In less than two months. How does he have straight AND gay game. That's not fair.

Steddie getting together is a non event. Eddie is still like ewww sports and yet somehow he made out with Steve Harrington and the next day Steve asked if he wanted to get milkshakes and throw rocks into the quarry to see the splashes. Eddie must restrain himself from thinking it's a date because he knows it's not but it'd also be the perfect date (Eddie is a simple man)

At the end of the night steve kissed his cheek and says "I had a really great time..."

Eddie just blurted "hey do you want to be my boyfriend?"

To which Steve perks up like "yes! I'd like that!"

And Eddie didn't actually think he'd get that far so he was like "neat!! See you tomorrow!" before slamming the door in Steve's face.

So they're dating and Eddie disparages sports but Steve is like haha aw you don't like watching me play? Which is sooo mean to Eddie because obviously?? He likes?? Watching his boyfriend??? Run around in tiny shorts and sometimes shirtless?? He has to reevaluate some things he supposes.

All while this is happening Billy is still on his Greatest Homoerotic Rivals shtick with Steve. Eddie notices and is like to dude...what is with Billy? And Steve just sighs. Says Billy is weird and obsessed with him and glares all the time. It's a whole thing. Billy is pissed because what is Steve, his epic rival, doing hanging around some random band geek, his sister's bitchass friends, and maybe the local dealer.

Alright. Grad happens. Yay Steve! Poor Eddie. They go to some party , hang out with people, sell some drugs, etc. Billy is unfortunately also at this party, and is like. Lazer eyes boring into Steve's back. Very annoying. At some point, he sees Steve slip away and is like this is my chance so he follows him.

Howmever he comes across Steve, his epic and totally heterosexual rival, making out with Eddie the freak Munson.

And listen this is a scary thing to be caught inna town like Hawkins, but that's not the point of this post.

So Billy goes "what the hell?"

They turn around. Billy is still spluttering.

"what are you-why would you-- with him?!" He says.

Steve raises his eyebrows, alllll cocky confidence. He smirks a bit. Drawls. "Well, yeah. I like cock, billy. Just not yours."

Because the point of this post is that Steve is a bitch.

Thank you.

[valtoon]

lifeguard duty