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shookifer · 5 months

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Okay so, lately, I have been obssesed with young Daryl. Would you like writing a super fluffy fic where reader teaches Daryl about skincare and at the begining he's like 'why the hell are you putting that in your face?' but then at the end he is helping her in the most delicate manner posible. Like the look of love of this man while taking care of you... he just makes me faint.

Hope you like the idea and keep writing because you are so good! x

Potions

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era : Pre-apocalypse

Pronouns : she/her

Genre : Fluff

Word Count : 1.8k

AN ~ Yess I love this idea! Thank you so much for requesting it and thank you for all the love on my last oneshot as a whole. I didn’t think a lot of people would like it as much as they did, but all the feedback was so sweet! Again, I tried my best with this one and hopefully I could capture what you envisioned. Hope you enjoy!

Cleanser, moisturizer, serum, and sunscreen. Those were just the few of many steps when it came to your skincare routine that you had grown accustomed to.

Your skin was something that you were quite proud of, the years of taking care of it diligently were really paying off as it was always smooth and had some kind of a natural glow. You would get compliments here and there and questions about how you always kept your face looking so young and beautiful. And you of course would always give out any advice, products, or tips to others who asked because in all honesty it was just a simple routine.

The light in the bathroom flickered on as you reached your hand out to flip the switch, standing in front of the mirror and pulling your hair back to finally get settled in for the night after what felt like an impossibly long day. Your eyes glanced up to see your face a little more upclose, subconsciously grabbing the makeup remover first to clean all of it off your features.

It wasn’t that often you wore makeup but when you did it was always just something simple. Mascara, blush, filling in your eyebrows. But what really was your favorite part was wearing some type of lipstick or lip gloss on your perfectly plump lips. Your only reason as to why it was your favorite was so at some point in the day, you could pull your boyfriend in for a kiss on the cheek, only to pull back and see the residue of your lips. He however would groan and playfully shoo you away as he wiped his cheek to see whatever color you had on staining his palm. But the small smile playing on his own lips would tell you that he secretly loved it.

You reached up towards your eye to gently remove the mascara from your eyelashes, before discarding the cotton pad in the trashcan below. Then copying the same actions to your eyebrows, you removed any pencil that was left before throwing that cotton away as well. You then briefly rinsed your face with water, before pulling out your drawer full of products to use in a specific order.

The cleanser was always first since your face had to be a little wet, applying it gently all over your skin before leaning back down and rinsing it off completely. Toner came after, dabbing a little product in another cotton pad before dragging it over your face and neck to make sure you didn’t miss any lingering dirt that could still be there. Then it was serum, dripping a little from the dropper over different sections before lightly dragging it out until everything felt even.

It was always this part where you felt your face was especially shiny and glowing, taking a second to look at it glistening in the dim light. Until your eyes lingered to some movement just behind you, seeing Daryl’s figure standing in the doorway as he watched you intently.

You gasped a little at his sudden presence as you weren’t expecting him to be there, laughing a little to yourself as you placed a hand over your heart and turned to face him now. “Jesus,” you breathed, “You scared me half to death.”

His face turned a bit sheepish as that was never his intention, he just simply wanted to watch whatever girly thing you were doing before heading to bed, “Sorry.” he said as he slowly passed through the threshold.

“It’s okay. Just give me a few more minutes and I’ll be done.” you said before turning to face the mirror again.

You half expected him to leave and just wait for you in your shared bedroom, but he didn’t. He placed himself right next to you as his eyes moved towards the mirror as well, but only to watch your movements as you attempted to put on eye cream. He squinted a little as he watched you, thinking silently to himself for what felt like a long while.

As a guy, he never really understood things like this, though he went along with it because it clearly made you happy. But tonight apparently he was full of questions, wanting you to tell him everything about your little potions that sat out on the bathroom counter.

“The hell you puttin on yer face?”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to just blurt, but he couldn’t help it as genuine confusion filled him seeing as you didn’t need anything like this to be “beautiful.” He always thought you were perfect.

Though you laughed at his bluntness, rubbing in the cream under your eyes as you looked at his face in the mirror, “It’s my skincare routine.” you said simply.

His brows remained furrowed as he was still left in the dark. “I’ve been doing it since before we even got together, Daryl.” you said as your eyes moved to look at your own features.

He hummed a little, more to himself as he thought back to if he had ever seen you do this before like you claimed. Had he really been that dense about it?

“Well, uh…what’re they supposed to do?” he asked.

You smiled as your eyes locked with his again, “They just help keep your skin healthy and clean.” you said as you reached for your moisturizer, your final step, “Why? You wanna try?” you asked playfully.

He scoffed and shook his head as he leaned down a bit on the counter, continuing to watch you with his head in his hands, “Nah, watchin you do it is enough for me.”

You rolled your eyes a bit, though you didn’t push further as you finished rubbing the cream into your cheeks. Though silently you wished Daryl would do something for his skin, you believed that everyone should. The sun was your biggest concern for him. Although you loved his little sunspots all over his face and the slight redness he would sometimes get on his cheeks and nose, you wished he at least wore sunscreen if anything at all. But it was no secret the man was stubborn, but maybe, just maybe, you would be able to convince him.

“Okay,” you said as you finally finished and began putting the products away, “I’ll make you a deal. You don’t have to do face masks with me anymore, if you promise to put on some sunscreen everyday before work.” you wagered.

You watched as his eyes narrowed at you playfully, thinking about his options in his head before finally sighing in defeat and standing back up to his full height, “Alright, fine.” he agreed.

“Yay!” you silently cheered as you leaned forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him further into you.

He smiled to himself as he hugged your waist tight, resting his chin on your shoulder. If you asked him, he didn’t need anything to keep his skin “healthy” because he didn’t necessarily care about any of that quite like you did. But he would do just about anything for you, anything to make you happy, and anything to even catch a glimpse of your smile.

Which is why he reluctantly pulled away with a quiet groan, “And I’ll…still do facemasks with ya anyway.” he said almost regrettably.

Your mouth dropped in surprise, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he huffed with a small returning smile, “As long as they make me pretty after, I guess they’re alright.”

You tilted your head a bit to the side as your hand came up to trail your thumb against his cheekbone, “But you’re already pretty.”

“...Not as pretty as you, sweet girl.” he corrected, coming in close to place a kiss on your cheek.

But your hand coming up quickly to stop him is what caused him to be slightly taken aback, “Wait, wait,” you giggled as you kept his face away from yours, “I just finished my skincare, have you learned nothing?” you playfully asked him, “Besides the moisturizer will get on your lips, I don’t think you wanna kiss me there.”

He sighed in faux annoyance as his eyes traveled down a bit, “Well, can I kiss ya here?” he asked as you felt his thumb come up to run along your bottom lip gently.

You smiled with a small nod, “Yes.”

He smirked before finally closing the distance between you two, his lips overlapping yours in a sweet kiss as his hands ran up and down your back slowly. You hummed into his mouth as his lips felt heavenly against your own, feeling him pull away to place one more peck on your parted mouth before fully stepping back.

“Alright, come on now, we gotta get ya to bed for yer beauty sleep.” he teased as he suddenly bent down and grabbed you by your legs, swinging your upper half over his shoulder as he carried you out of the bathroom.

“Daryl!” you cried as you laughed at his sudden fast actions, hearing him let out a chuckle himself as he carried you all the way up the stairs while swaying you back and forth playfully.

After that night Daryl fulfilled his promise, letting you put sunscreen over his cheeks and nose right before he headed off to work each morning to ease your mind. And he still occasionally allowed you to put a face mask on him, seeing how much it brought you joy to have someone to do it with. But also he had to admit, it made his face feel a little softer afterwards.

The only thing that changed in your routine since that night is that Daryl would now always follow you into the bathroom when it was time to put on all your “potions” as he called them. Except he wasn’t the one watching you do all the work, but instead, he applied everything for you. He insisted on it in fact. He always wanted to take care of you and this was no different, in fact he thought it was fun.

It was also fun for you as well as you agreed to his request, sitting yourself up on the counter as he applied everything like you usually would. You had to walk him through the steps the first few times, but after that he was a natural. He was always so delicate as his slightly rough fingertips glided effortlessly across your skin. Your favorite part however, was opening your eyes occasionally to watch his face as it was full of concentration, seeing his tongue slip out a little at times as he focused. You thought it was absolutely adorable.

And every time he was done, without fail, he would always look at you so lovingly it nearly made you melt into a puddle. His eyes so clearly held so much love for you, you found yourself thinking how you had the best man in the entire world. Though you always wanted to know what he was thinking when he stared at you like this, finally one night opening your mouth to ask.

“What?” you voiced a bit playfully as your head tilted to the side.

He shrugged his shoulders as his eyes remained the same, “Nothin…just so beautiful.” he practically whispered.

Your lips stretched into a bashful smile as you couldn’t help but blush. Yeah, best man in the entire world.

~ Thanks for reading!

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shookifer · 5 months

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Star-crossed lovers ✨ Decided to do one last reylo art for the last day of 2023, Happy New Year!

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shookifer · 1 year

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Patch Me Up

Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

summary: Billy, your (secret) boyfriend, shows up at your house (which is really Steve's house) after a bad fight with Neil, and Steve has never been more confused.

CW: hurt/comfort, minor injury detail, mentions of abuse (it's very brief!!), lots of fluff, billy is probably OOC but I do not care 🫶🫶, Steve wants to put his and Billy's differences aside for your sake.

Word count: 2k

2:45am

Someone's at the door. They knock once, and you don't make a move to answer. But then the bell rings, and they knock again so, with a groan, you get out of bed and walk past Steve's room to see if he's still asleep, or if he was also woken up by the disturbance from downstairs. Luckily, he's asleep.

You make your way down the stairs of the house and, for safety, you grab Steve's nail bat from its place beside the front door. Slowly, you unlock the door and open it just enough so that you can see whoever is on the other side of it.

It's Billy.

You open the door fully and drop the bat as quietly as you can. Billy looks like he's been dragged to hell and back, to put it simply. For a second, you're confused as to why he's here at 2:45 on a Wednesday morning, but his eyes shine with unshed tears, and the big red mark on his cheek speaks for itself.

"Hey, pretty girl, mind letting me in? I'm dying out here." You nod and step out of the way with nothing but worry for him casting over your features. You notice that he's limping a little, but you don't mention it.

"God, Billy, what the hell happened to you?" You know it was Neil, but Billy had insisted that things with his dad were getting better. He laughs half-heartedly, not meeting your eye.

"I, uh, let Max go over to the Byers to stay over with her friend Ellie or El, or something, 'cause Neil and Susan were supposed to go away for a few nights. But they ended up coming home early, and when he found out he told me to go pick her up. But I told him I didn't want to disturb Mrs byers, and he didn't take to that too kindly." He huffs out another humourless chuckle, but you can hear him choking up as he speaks.

"Oh, babe..." You start, but you're at a loss for words. You've seen Billy a few times after a bad run-in with his dad, but there's blood coming from his nose and he's cradling his right elbow in his hand, and not to mention his left eye is swelling slightly. "C'mere, let me clean you up a bit."

As you go to take Billy's hand to lead him to the downstairs bathroom you can hear Steve's floorboards creak just above you, and his footsteps echo through the hall upstairs.

"Hello?" Steve calls out from the top of the stairs.

"Hey, Stevie, it's just me." You reply.

"Who were you talking to?" You can hear him making his way down the stairs. "Hargrove? Is that you?"

"Don't get too excited, Harrington." Steve rolls his eyes at Billy's sarcasm.

"Why are you in my house, man? What-" He stops himself as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and can see Billy's face in the light, letting out a soft 'oh'.

Neither of them speak for a moment or two, and you take that as your cue to get back to the previous task as hand.

"Billy, let's get you fixed up." He nods silently and follows you to the bathroom. You tell him to sit down on the lid of the toilet, and you open the cupboard under the sink to grab the first aid kit. You rummage around a bit, until you remember that Steve took it last week after Will had fallen off his bike and gashed a pretty nasty cut into his knee.

“I need to run to the living room to grab the first aid kit, okay?” You ask gently, already heading toward the door, but Billy grabs your hand before you can go any further.

“No, please don’t leave.”

“Baby, it’s only for a second. I’ll be right back.” He shakes his head.

“Can’t you just yell for Harrington to get it? I just don’t think I can be alone right now.” He speaks so quietly, more so than you’ve ever heard him do before, and there's something about the rawness and honesty in his eyes that makes you never want to leave him alone again.

“Steve?” You shout, feeling bad about disturbing your friend again.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He quickly walks back down the stairs and comes into view as he stands in the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Could you grab the first aid kit from the living room, please?” He nods without a word, and emerges a few minutes later with the little, green plastic box.

“Thank you. Sorry for waking you up, you can go back to bed now. promise we won’t disturb you again.” Steve just laughs lightly and shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m up now. No chance of me getting back to sleep for at least 2 hours. Might as well do something useful with my time.” He heads in the direction of the kitchen, and you close the door of the bathroom behind him.

Walking back over to billy, who is sat silently on the counter of the bathroom, you’re able to truly take in how beaten up he looks. His left eye is swelling more and more, and the red mark on his cheek has almost turned purple.

“Oh, Billy.” You slowly reach out to touch his face, but he flinches back slightly at the notion of your hand coming into contact with his cheek.

"Shit- sorry." He apologises quickly and takes your outstretched hand in his.

"You don't have to be sorry, it's not your fault." You give his hand a reassuring squeeze and get to patching him up. You clean up his bloody nose, which he scrunches up when the alcohol rub you use on his cheek stings a bit, and you apologise quietly. You find a bandage and you fashion a make-shift sling. It's definitely nothing special, but it's better than letting his arm hang free without support.

You catch sight of the shift in his features when he goes to adjust his position on the counter. His hand shoots up to hold onto his chest, and you immediately worry for the state of his bones and internal organs.

"Billy?" He looks up at you. "Can you take your shirt off?" He smirks.

"You tryna get me naked? Could've just said so, baby." He laughs under his breath, and despite the situation, you crack a small smile. He removes his shirt, and you can't help the short intake of breathe of breath that you take. The skin on Billy's chest is red and blue and black and purple and the more you examine it the worse it looks. It's horrible.

"Oh my god." You breathe. You look through the first aid kit for some kind of oil or ointment that you could use to treat the discolouring on his chest, but it was to no avail. "I don't think I have anything that can help that. I'm sorry, Billy. I'm so sorry." You aren't really apologising for your lack of treatment products. You're apologising because this is real. He has to live life like this, and there's nothing you can do about it.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's not your fault. You didn't know I was coming, yeah?" You nod. "And besides, you've done more than enough, sweetheart. More than you ever needed to, alright? I'm okay, I swear." You know he's lying. He's not okay. But for once, you choose to not argue back. You honestly don't have the strength.

The rest of his casualties aren't your forte, unfortunately. Bruises and a potentially sprained ankle- which he promises 'isn't even that bad'- aren't things that you can tend to, but you think some ice to his ankle will do him some good, and maybe provide some pain relief.

"Hey, Billy, let's go to the living room, 'kay?" He nods, and stands up, and you put your arm around his waist to support him. He kisses your temple and starts to limp out of the bathroom to make his way to the living room.

Steve is sitting on the sofa when you enter with Billy, and he makes a move to leave.

"I'll give you guys some privacy." He nods at Billy as he leaves, and you truthfully don't want him to go. He's your best friend, and you could use some grounding after what you've done tonight. You don't say anything in protest to his statement though, however, Billy does.

"Harrington? If you wanna stay down here, I don't mind, really." Billy looks almost as shocked as you do, as if he doesn't register what he's saying until the words have already flown out of his mouth and he can't take them back.

"Oh, uh, okay. You sure, man?" Steve makes a move to re-enter the living room.

"Don't make me change my mind, dude." Steve laughs lightly as Billy's answer, and walks back into the living room, closely followed by you and Billy.

You sit down on the couch, Billy following you, and Steve takes his previous seat. You have to admit, it's a little awkward at first. You're the one making conversation and trying to tie them both in, but it's difficult, what with knowing about their past rivalry and all.

You sigh, before saying,

"Alright look, I know you two have your differences, but I'm just as uncomfortable as you both. So, if we're gonna sit here tonight, is there any chance you could just make up? For my sake at least?"

It's a while before either of them speak, and to no one's surprise, it's Steve.

"Yes, yeah okay. I think I can do that."

"Thank you." You smile at him, and wait hopefully for Billy to agree too.

"Fine." He mumbles after a few minutes. You know you won't get much more out of him than that, so you're just glad he cooperated.

"Thanks, Billy." He nods, not saying anything more. "I'm gonna get you some ice for your ankle." Another nod, this time accompanied by a smile.

You leave the room, cringing internally at the thought of leaving Billy alone with Steve. You just hope they can put their differences aside, because it would make your situation a hell of a lot less difficult.

After retrieving the ice from the bottom drawer of the freezer, which took a great deal of effort because you had to clear out the contents of the drawer and then fit it all back in, you head back to living room, silently praying the 2 boys haven't killed each other in your absence. However, as you walk to the door, you hear them before you see them. Billy's laughing, and so is Steve. 'What the hell?' you think to yourself, bemused to say the least.

"Jesus, Harrington, that's fucking hilarious. You know, you're better company than I thought."

"What's gotten into you two, huh?" You chuckle as you saunter in and retake your seat, leaning forward to set the ice on the coffee table, and then prop Billy's ankle on the bag.

"Nothin', sweetheart. This guy's not too bad to have around. He's funnier than I remember." As you lean back against the sofa, Billy stretches his good arm around your shoulders, and you settle against him.

"It's good that the two of you are getting along, for my sake, anyway." Billy doesn't say much, but hums in acknowledgement, while Steve just nods.

It's quiet for a little while longer, until Steve clears his throat somewhat awkwardly.

"Uh, Hargrove- Billy, even- fuck, that feels weird. Yeah, anyway, um, if you ever need a place to stay whenever, you know, this happens, you can always come here." Steve doesn't look at Billy when he talks, but if he did he'd see the way Billy's eyes soften ever so slightly, the way his shoulders relax into the plush couch behind him, the way his eyes go a little glossy.

"Thanks, Steve." Billy replies, before continuing with, "Yeah, that feels weird as shit, man." earning a laugh from both you and Steve.

After a moment, Billy yawns, and his eyes look droopier than they did a minute ago, so you decide now would be a good time for the two of you to head to bed.

"Alright, Stevie, we're gonna head to bed." You stand up, helping Billy do the same.

"Me too." Steve follows in suit, standing and stretching his arms over his head. The three of you head toward the stairs, with Steve behind you and Billy to make sure he can help if the latter falls.

As you're climbing the stairs, however, Steve has something on his mind.

"Hey, kid, any chance you're making pancakes tomorrow morning?" You turn around to face Steve and you don't think you've ever seen him look more hopeful in your life. "Billy, I swear to God, she makes the best pancakes in the world."

Billy smiles and says, "Well, sweetheart, I gotta try 'em. I'm somewhat of a pancake connoisseur, if you will." You roll your eyes.

"Ugh, fine. Yes, Steve, I will make my famous pancakes." You say, and you swear Steve looks like he could jump for joy. "But, you have to make spaghetti tomorrow night."

"Done."

When you reach the top of you stairs, you bid Steve goodnight, and make your way back to your room, but this time with Billy in tow, and you tell him to sit on the bed. Grabbing him one of his shirts that you stole a month ago, you help him out of his other one, careful not to disturb the fine bandaging you had previously carried out on his arm, and you gently pull the new one over his head, guiding his arms through it too. He opts for no pants, just boxers, and you're too tired to object, not that you mind either way, and the two of you lie back in your bed.

"Thanks for takin' care of me." Billy mumbled into your hair.

"Thanks for letting me." You reply, making Billy smile. And for the first time in a long while, Billy sleeps.

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shookifer · 1 year

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the road back to you — billy hargrove

summary: as you find salvation from your grief in the form of a beat-up car, you may find what you’re looking for in the most unlikely of places. aka, when billy’s girlfriend falls under attack by vecna, he’ll fight through death itself to save her. pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader category: angst with happy ending content warnings: temporary canon character death (billy), language, descriptions of grieving word count: 6k a/n: hi y'all !! i'm really proud of my work on this one, it was fun to do. just a note, any blocks of italics is a memory/flashback.

masterlist want to join my taglist?

It goes like this—the moment you realize you love him is also the moment you realize you’re going to lose him.

It’s simple, really. You saw the moment El was able to reach him from wherever he was locked away, you saw the moment he stood and set his shoulders back, determined to carry out whatever plan he had come up with in the narrow seconds he had to himself. You saw the moment he stepped forward, never once looking back at you—does he know you couldn’t handle a goodbye even if he offered one?

You saw the moment he stared down the thing that had taken away his choices for so long, and you knew he never intended to step foot outside of Starcourt again.

People often say the worst moments of your life happen in slow motion, but this time it all happened in one terrifying instant, too quick for you to do anything but watch.

“Billy!” You were sure the word wasn’t yours, that some other voice had screamed with enough force to scratch their throat to shreds. It wasn’t your feet launching you down the broken escalators, taking as many steps at a time as you could manage without tripping. The Mind Flayer was gone, but the damage it had inflicted hadn’t vanished miraculously with it. Even from across the room you could see what it left behind on the man you loved—too much blood, every limb far too still, red everywhere, why was it everywhere?

Max made it there first, dropping to the ground beside him with enough force against her knees that it makes you wince. You practically slide across the tile to reach him too, hands grabbing one of his. His are dirty, mixed with the dirt and blood of too many of your friends, from him. They’re still his though, with the same rough callouses you used to spend so much time trailing your fingers across. You cradle his hand between both of yours, pressing a kiss to the back of his fingers as though that might take the pain away. Because there wasn’t anything you could do for him now but this, you’d try to bring him as much peace as you could, knowing he deserved so much more.

“—’m sorry,” he choked out, and you wished you’d never had to see the way blood slipped from those lips with his words. Already you could feel the sight imprinting on your mind, scarring over the once cheerful memories the two of you had made in this mall.

“Billy,” Max repeated, voice barely there through the tears that threatened to silence her, “please.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured the two of them, lower lip quivering around the words. Salt and iron mixed at your own lips as tears trail down your bloodied face, and a sob threatened to tear through your already scratchy throat. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

It looked like he wanted to say more. You watched helplessly as his lips parted and closed a few times, gasps coming out instead of the words he wanted. You leaned forward, hand resting against his cheek and trying to ignore the blood that stained it. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many hopes and dreams you’d never quite shared with him in search of the right moment. There never would be a right moment now, and that thought alone was enough to constrict your heart.

But this moment wasn’t about you, it was about the fear in his blue eyes as he looked between you and Max, as his lips still struggled to voice the final words he wanted to tell each of you.

Billy needed peace, so you would give it to him in the only way you knew how.

“We’ll be okay,” you told him, blinking away the tears in a desperate attempt to keep looking at him for as long as you could. Because up until this moment, you’d assumed you had forever, you took the ability to see Billy for granted. And now forever was reduced down to seconds, and you had too many words to say.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise,” you continued, not missing the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction at the promise. You brushed away the stray curls that fell into his face even now, trying to memorize every inch of his face before he left you. For just a moment, through all the blood and signs of battle, you could almost imagine this was any other night. The two of you were laying in your bed, whispers falling between you as you fought to hide from your family. He would grin and hold onto you, saying he didn’t care if they found the two of you like this, and you’d laugh and say he might, your family could be scary when they were protective. They don’t need to protect you from me, Sweetheart, I’d never hurt you. What a fucking lie that was. “I promise, we’ll be okay. All because of you, you saved us.”

When his breath stuttered and his chest grew gravely still, you felt your world grow colder. It was an immediate change, a crack in the dream you’d once had for how your life would end up. Because how could you ever have your happy ending when the person you wanted to share it with was laying here, in your arms, cold?

And when the paramedics finally pulled him from your hands, you were still whispering the same words.

I love you, I love you so much.

“Max! If you make me late to work again, we’re gonna have real problems!” you shouted through the rolled-down window of his—your—car.

“No, we won’t,” Max shouted back from the front door of her mom’s trailer, messing around with slipping a tape into her Walkman at the step instead of doing it in the car. “I know better.”

“Well, this time we will have problems,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at the level of sass the girl had. Though even now, you knew she had a point. No matter what she did, no matter how many words she tossed at you when she was frustrated, you would be there for her. You’d made a promise, nearly a year ago now. “Can we go, please? Harv is forgiving, but I don’t want to test his patience.”

Though she didn’t acknowledge you, at least Max sped up a little and climbed into the passenger seat as quickly as possible. You sighed when immediately headphones were placed over the girl’s ears and her head turned to face out the side window. After everything that had happened, you’d never expected her to be the same Max she’d been before but you’d hoped that she wouldn’t be this pulled back from the world. It seemed all she did anymore was drown everyone out in the music, only slipping off those headphones to convince everyone else that she was, in fact, fine.

You’d heard it from just about everyone now, that they were worried about Max but she’d stopped talking to them. Friends, teachers, and even Joyce Byers had called you once to say that Mike had mentioned what was going on to El. They all looked to you for help, expecting you to save her from the grief that threatened to drown her. But you weren’t a lifeguard like her brother, and all you could do was desperately reach for her hand and hope she’ll hold on someday. Until then, there was nothing you could do. Just like her brother, you couldn’t save her.

So you drove her to school every morning and took a few minutes off of work in the afternoon to drive her back home on the days her mother was working late. When she needed to go somewhere else, she knew to call you no matter the time. Sometimes she did, asking you to drive her to places just on the edge of town. You’d sit in the car and wait while she sat out there, watching the stars. You never knew what she did there, but if it helped then you’d take endless sleepless nights. All you could hope for was that, in time, she might open up to someone again even if that someone wasn’t you.

“Have a good day at school, kiddo,” you told her as you approached the school, and she must’ve barely heard you through whatever she was playing because Max graced you with a smile and nod before she slipped out the car. You stayed there for only a moment, making sure she got safely inside the building before you headed off toward work.

Harv’s mechanic shop was on the edge of town, giving you a long drive to destress. Every morning was the same anymore—you’d turn on music from a band you hardly liked but you’d found the tape on the floorboard the first time you’d worked up the nerve to slide into the driver’s seat. It had been sitting on the bottom of the backseat right where you remembered hiding it, when Billy spent an entire week listening to nothing but that song. Where before you only rolled your eyes at his off-key singalong, now you drove down country roads humming the tune with tearful eyes. ‘I’ve been waiting for a girl like you to walk into my life.’

And though you knew the car could handle faster speeds—Billy, slow down! Are you trying to get us in a wreck?—you’d take it barely over the speed limit, taking your time with the feel of the wheel under your fingers and the sound of the engine you’d come to adore. You’d never expected to see it again, much less spend so much time inside it. You often wondered what he would have thought if he could see you driving it around town. Would he smile fondly or would he sigh, reminding you there were better ways to take care of a car as beautiful as that one. Maybe you would roll your eyes back, proclaiming that if only he were still here, he could tell you what to do with it. But he wasn’t, so all you could do was use your best judgment.

When Max came to you in July in near tears, you didn’t know what else could have gone wrong. You were ready to fight anyone who dared to hurt her while she was already down, grieving someone she didn’t know she could grieve.

“He’s getting rid of the car,” Max hiccupped out after you’d brought her into your house, sliding a cup of coffee her way you knew her mother would have scolded you for. “I shouldn’t care, but, he’s just going to junk it and—”

“Who?” you asked, “Why?”

“Neil,” Max practically spit out, and though you knew she didn’t have a good relationship with him either you’d never heard such vitriol in her voice before. “He’s leaving town, and he wants to make as much money as possible selling his son’s stuff before he does, apparently.”

“Well, I promise you that car’s not getting scrapped,” you told her, already standing up from your seat at the kitchen bar. You grabbed your keys and hurried to find your wallet, a fierceness in your gait that hadn’t been there since the Fourth.

“How do you know that?” Max asked, following you out of the house and into your car. Any other time, you might’ve felt a warmness in your heart at the knowledge that she trusted you so much she’d follow you anymore without any explanation.

You shrugged, eyes on the road as you were speeding faster than you ever normally would. There was no way you’d be too late to talk to Neil, though, that was for sure. When you got there, you’d insist on buying the car off of him, taking whatever price he demanded because, to you, it was a priceless win. There were too many memories built into that car, too many smiles and laughs. You’d do what it took to make sure Billy’s pride and joy was saved. You weren’t an expert with cars, but you’d become one if that’s what it took. “I needed a new car anyway.”

The Camaro had sat untouched in your garage for a month before you were able to even look at it without crying, much less try to drive it. But eventually, you were able to sit in the driver’s seat without blurry vision and you set to work determined to restore its beauty after the damage it sustained at Starcourt. So you slipped Billy’s necklace over the rearview mirror and set out to find a way to bring the car back to life.

That was how you’d ended up with your current job at the local mechanic’s shop. You needed guidance in fixing the thing up and Harv was more than willing to impart his knowledge to someone else. After years of focusing on only the job, you were the closest thing to family he would ever get. He’d become something of a mentor to you over time, trading repair tips for well-cooked lunches. It wasn’t too much of a surprise when the older man offered you a job at the shop, making up some excuse that he’d rather focus on the cars instead of the business side of the shop. He let you work on the cars too, in between balancing the books and taking the occasional phone call. It was hard work, but you appreciated the chance to keep your hands busy before your mind filled in the blanks with memories you wished you could forget.

“Forget the morning coffee?” Harv asked when you finally stepped through the shop. “You’re looking more tired than usual, tell me you’ve been sleepin’.”

“I can tell you if you want,” you hedged, slipping two brown paper bags into the fridge before grabbing a hand towel to throw over your shoulder. There were some days you needed more distractions than normal, and on those, he’d usually let you do more work on the cars than in the office.

“Havin’ more dreams?” he asked, and the non-answer was enough for Harv to get the picture. For the past several months, you’d been plagued with nightmares of that night, of the immediate days after, of having to plan a funeral because his family couldn’t be bothered, of d—

“Please, please, no!” you screamed, the blankets becoming your new prison as you fought to escape them. Your voice was hoarse as you tumbled out of bed, landing on the same hip that was already bruised from previous impacts.

It was only two weeks after the ‘tragic fire’ at Starcourt, your wounds beginning their slow fade away. The nightmares seemed to get worse when you realized, that, soon you would lose any evidence of that night, of the sauna, of Billy fighting to stay with you all. Because he’d fought, no matter what the party seemed to think of him. You hated that you mourned the loss of the deep bruise around your wrist from where he’d grabbed it at the Mind Flayer, when you’d gotten roped into trapping him in the pool sauna.

“Y/N?”

Fuck.

Max had been sleeping in the guest room of your parents’ house since the incident, admitting that it was too hard to be in the house where Billy had been. She’d told you it was confusing, seeing the rooms where he’d yelled at her so badly she’d cried but wishing he could be there to do it again. She hated the way Neil and her mom seemed to ignore what happened, carrying on as though nothing had ever gone wrong.

And you’d promised Billy that she would be okay, so you’d told her she could stay as long as she needed while she worked through her grief. You just never expected her to see yours, too.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, pulling yourself to your feet and trying to fix your rumpled pajamas and hoping she could hear through your closed door. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t, I was awake,” Max answered, slowly opening the bedroom door. Even in the dim moonlight, you could see the tear tracks shining on her face.

“Oh, Max, come here,” you called, and the second you held out your arms she was rushing into them. Her body hit yours harshly but all you could do was hold onto her for dear life, your own tears forming as she let out her sobs into your shirt.

“I don’t want to miss him,” she cried, “he hated me, I shouldn’t miss him so much.”

“Hey, hey, listen, okay?” you tried to tell her, moving back just enough that you could see her face. “Billy did not hate you. Do you know how often he talked to me about you? About how worried he was about you sneaking out so much, about how he was trying to keep you safe from N—your stepdad.”

“I want to hate him. He was so awful to my friends, I should hate him, and I hate that I—”

“What, Max?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, and you knew there was more to it but for the time being, she was already wiping away her tears with rough hands. “It’s nothing. I don’t think I’ve slept right since the Fourth of July.”

“Me either, kiddo,” you sighed, running your hand over her hair once before stepping back fully. “How about I make us some hot cocoa and we can watch a movie, something happy.”

“Still about that Hargrove boy of yours?”

“Always,” you sighed. It would always be him, no matter how many times you fought to move on. There was no easy way to erase the memories you’d made together, all the hard work it had taken to make your relationship set up to last.

“You know, there’s no harm in finding someone else to make you happy.”

“I know that I just,” you fought to find the right words, looking up to the sky as if Billy himself might help you conjure them up. “I’ve never loved anyone like I loved him. I don’t really know if I can again.”

“Why don’t you take the day off today?”

“I’d rather be here,” you told Harv. Because what else was there to do but sit and think about where you could have been? If you were alone, then you’d start thinking of the nights you’d lay with Billy, dreaming up a future for after the summer. In those dreams, you’d pack up his car with as few items as you could manage, and the two of you would drive. There wouldn’t be a particular destination in mind, as long as it was far past the Indiana border.

Instead, you stayed in the one place you knew he hated. Where else was there to go? You told yourself you could leave Hawkins when Max was out of school, when you knew she’d be okay on her own.

“You can’t work yourself to death either,” Harv argued, grabbing the towel off your shoulder and tossing it over his instead. “Go, find some trouble to get into. You’re off for the rest of the week.”

At first, you were furious at the idea of a week off. It turned out, though, that Harv’s generosity came at a perfect time. Because suddenly, the Upside Down wasn’t as shut away as you once thought it was. Suddenly, Billy’s sacrifice wasn’t enough to completely spare the kids from the horrors that lurked under the city.

And as it turned out, you were frighteningly close to breaking your promise to him.

Because Vecna was coming after Max, and the only thing that was keeping her from a horrifying death was that damned Walkman you’d once cursed for existing. Now, all you could do was hope that the machine kept up, that you’d never need to read the contents of the letter tucked into your back pocket.

You’d do anything to keep your promise now, even cross into the Upside Down yourself.

The decision became even easier when Steve was pulled down into the lake, through the barrier he’d been investigating. Nancy had jumped in after him, Robin following soon after. It was an obvious choice, then, for you to jump from the boat.

The Upside Down was a living nightmare. You were sure this new scene would take the place of Starcourt each time you closed your eyes, between the bats determined to kill and the vines that connected all the way back to Vecna himself. You had to agree with Eddie in all of the panic over it, even though you’d been exposed to its horrors before.

You thought the group made it out safe, though. Everyone was climbing up the curtains to get back to the safety of Eddie’s trailer, and you were up next but instead of falling through to hit the mattress set up on the trailer floor, you hit hard tile. It was white tile though was now marred with an eerily familiar red hue. Broken glass dug into your palms as you landed, though you hardly noticed it at all.

Because the moment you recognized those neon lights surrounding each store of the building, you knew you were doomed. Because Starcourt had been torn down months ago, yet now it looked the same way it had on the worst night of your life. You knew what was going to happen, you knew what memories Vecna would use against you. There was only one that continuously haunted you, kept you awake at night wondering if there was something else you could have done.

Immediately you took off toward one of the escalators, hoping to put as much distance between you and the mirage you knew Vecna would send to you. You didn’t want to see him, not after all this time, not like this.

“You always did run from your problems.” That voice, even as harsh and cold as it was now, was enough to make your heart race. It seemed to echo through the large courtyard, filling the space and making it impossible to ignore the form Vecna had taken on just for you. “What, too scared to face me, Sweetheart?”

The venom-laced nickname was sure to break you, if the sound of familiar boots on blood-stained tile wasn’t enough. You could hear Billy saying it a thousand times, each with more care in his voice than you’d ever heard before. It was some of the few times you could see his walls really melt, if only for a second. Now that love was being used against you, hurled at you with enough hate to make you wonder if this wasn’t how Billy had intended it after all.

“This isn’t real,” you shouted back in hopes of convincing yourself, never daring to look over your shoulder as you rushed up to the upper level of the mall. It felt real though, felt like you’d never been able to escape the nightmare of that mall.

“It’s as real as the day you let me die,” Not-Billy called back, letting out a near-hysteric laugh that you’d only heard post-sauna experiment. “I haunt you, don’t I?”

“No,” you gasped around the word as though the running at made you lose all breath stored in your chest. “No, you don’t.”

“Liar!” Not-Billy laughed, his pace quickening as the mall turned loops around you in an unbeatable maze. All you had to do was outlast him and hope that Eddie had a tape that you liked enough to snap you out of this. “You traded your entire life in for some promise you could never keep, didn’t you? You kept my car, my clothes, my music. You got a job somewhere you knew I’d like.”

He was gaining ground fast. Where were they with that music? How much longer could you last like this?

“It wasn’t for you,” you tried, keeping your eyes forward as you fought to find an escape. But the mall just extended, trapping you in the horror of the day you’d lost Billy. “It was for me.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you lay alone at night, Y/N?” Not-Billy teased, not seeming in a rush to catch up to you and instead preferring to break down your resolve inch by terrifying inch. “Admit it, you know you’re nothing without me. You know it’s your fault I’m not there for Max, so you’re taking my place.”

“No,” you denied, hating the rush of guilt that crashed over your shoulders like a rogue wave. “No, that’s not it.”

“You feel guilty. You know you could’ve noticed something was wrong sooner. You should’ve known. Did you really think I would hurt you like that?”

Billy, what are you doing? This isn’t like you. Fine, if you want to act like that then you can do it alone, we’re through.

“I didn’t know!” you screamed back, the tears hitting your eyes at the memory of what you’d deem your greatest failure. Because you hadn’t noticed, you truly thought that he might’ve simply wanted to be so cruel that day. How were you meant to know he was taken over by a mythical creature from a kids' game?

You were just kids when it all went wrong. Fuck, you were just kids.

You finally chanced a glance at him, and the sight was enough to make you trip over your feet. You hit the ground harshly, wrist bending painfully as it caught your weight. But there was Billy, standing in his blue jeans and white tank, covered in blood the same way he’d been the last time you’d laid eyes on him. This time though, instead of blue eyes flashing in recognition they burned with a hatred you’d never seen before. He hated you.

No, this was Vecna. Right? Right?

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Billy’s voice overlapped with a deeper one, a haunting voice that settled deep in your bones. “You can admit you feel responsible for my death.”

“I don’t,” you shot back, ignoring the stirring of heavy emotions you’d long-since locked away deep in your ribcage. “We did the best we could, I tried to save you, Billy, I tried everything.”

How many times had you tried to break him free from the hold the Mind Flayer had on him? How many times did you call his name, beg for him to return to you? And even when that failed, you launched yourself into danger just to keep him safe. Nancy, what the fuck are you doing? That’s still Billy, put down the gun, put down th—

“It wasn’t enough though, was it?” Billy stepped even closer, head tilted to the side as he regarded your prone form. He bent down closer to you, a familiar rough hand reaching out to tuck under your chin. “And the worst part of it all, you let him die without ever telling him how you felt. You let him die thinking you didn’t love him.”

You knew this was it, the moment Vecna could take you. Yet still, all you could do was stare at the face you’d never thought you could see again. You took the time to study his face, searching for any sign that this was the Billy you knew and loved. It may not have been him, but he still had his blue eyes, gorgeous freckles peppering his cheeks, and blonde hair with a stray curl still draped across his face.

And if this was the end, at least the view was wondrous.

“You don’t have to hurt anymore, Y/N. I can make it stop,” Billy spoke in Vecna’s voice, and it was then you began to rise from the floor against your will. You didn’t fight it, not when you knew there was nothing else you could do.

As you stared down the Not-Billy, all you could hope for was that Max wasn’t watching.

Miraculously, though, the final blow never came. Instead, that damned song played loudly through the air. It was the tape you’d found in Billy’s car, the one you remembered tossing into the backseat on a long drive a year before, just so you wouldn’t have to hear it again. The tape you played on your drive to work every day, just wanting to feel closer to the man you’d lost.

“I need to know if you feel it too, maybe I'm wrong!”

“C’mon, Billy, can’t you play anything else?”

“What’s wrong with Foreigner, Sweetheart?”

“For starters, your singing.”

You’d never been so thankful to hear that song. It was enough to release Vecna’s hold on you, dropping you to the ground. The second your feet touched tile, you were sprinting without another spare thought.

And there the scene was, right in front of you.

If you hadn’t already been under Vecna’s illusions, you’d have thought this was another one. Because you could see your own body dressed in what you’d worn to the lake, laying on the floor of the Upside Down trailer with familiar hands holding onto you. He was shaking you, hair falling into his face as his expression grew more panicked.

“It’s not working!” that voice shouted, “She’s not waking up! You said it would work, Harrington, why isn—”

“Billy!” you shouted, not understanding how you could see him there but running for him anyway. Maybe you were running toward the end, maybe this was your mind’s vision of an okay ending. Maybe there really was no escaping from Vecna, but all you could do was follow the sound of the music, follow his voice yelling for you to come back to him.

‘I’ve been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive’

“I’m here!” you shouted though you knew no one could hear it, feet moving faster than they ever had before as you chased the vision. The second your hand brushed your own, you were tossed back into your body with a gasp.

Instinctively, you fought the hold on your arms. It was Vecna, the Not-Billy, he was coming back to get you, he made you think that you’d escaped when really i—

“Y/N, hey, Y/N, calm down it’s okay,” that familiar rough voice called. It was a voice you’d thought you’d only ever hear in a dream. “You’re okay.”

Yet there he was, Billy fucking Hargrove, alive and well. He looked a mess—months of Upside Down survival coated on his face, hands, clothes. He was still wearing what he had been at Starcourt, still with the same teary eyes that he’d had at your final goodbye. Though this time there was a distinct relieved smile painting across his face, proving that this wasn’t some harsh illusion created by Vecna but rather the real Billy, your Billy.

“How are you...?” you trailed off, hand reaching up to press on his cheek. You half-expected him to disappear the moment you reached for him, but instead, his face tilted into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for only a moment. You tried not to think about how long it had been since Billy had known any kind of touch that wasn’t that of something dangerous trying to hurt him.

“I don’t know,” Billy admitted, and later you’d come to the realization that he’d fought through it all without any prior knowledge of the Upside Down, of the gates, of Vecna. All he did was try to survive, try to get back. “I woke up here after Starcourt. I thought I was alone here but Harrington and Munson started yelling and—

“I love you,” you blurted out, leaning forward to wrap him up in a hug. Your hands dug into his shirt, and clung to him like any moment he could disappear. And maybe he still could. You couldn’t quite understand how he was still here, how any of you would take down the creature coming after all of you. All you knew was that by some act of grace, you’d gotten another chance with the man you loved. And this time, you wouldn’t dare wait for the right moment to come before you told him everything. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, there was so much I wanted to say that night, I just cou—”

“I know,” he answered, “I knew then, too. I love you, Sweetheart.”

“This is sweet and all, but I suggested getting out of the freaky nightmare portal,” Robin called down to the two of you, reminding you of where you were and what you’d just gone through.

You weren’t sure you’d ever let go of him. Even as you climbed back up and out of the Upside Down, as you watched Steve bend down to help Billy out of his prison world, your hands itched to hold onto him again. It was like after so long thinking you’d lost your forever, you were scared—terrified—to let it slip through your fingers again.

“How’d you know that song would work?” you finally asked, looking at the group who all seemed to regard you with, well, it wasn’t quite fear but maybe apprehension. After all, you were just one of the latest to nearly succumb to the terrifying death that fell upon Vecna’s victims.

“I heard you, every day in my car,” Billy admitted. You’d learned today that people in the Upside Down could hear parts of the normal world if they tried, could be strangely connected to the people they needed to hear. “You’d get in and play that song. Every morning.”

You fought not to imagine what else he’d heard in his months there. Did he hear you when you’d gotten home from the scene that night, not bothering to shower away the grime before you tucked into bed and cried? Had he heard the way you’d locked your door against your parents, screaming to them that they’d never been supportive of you and him before, so why the hell should they get to help you mourn now? Had he heard you apologize every single damn day since it happened, knowing Max was suffering and not being able to reach her in the way she needed?

“I hated that song,” you whispered, looking out the wide-open front door to see the leftovers of the scramble to save you. The driver’s side door of the Camaro was tossed open, a few tapes scattered around the grass beside it. Though you hadn’t been there, you could easily imagine the scene as it unfolded. Billy and Steve, still in the Upside Down and fighting to hold onto you as you lifted in the air. Robin and Eddie, fighting as they looked over his music to find something near your taste. Someone screaming, asking Billy what your favorite song was and him growing angry because why the fuck does that matter right now?

Him knowing, even now, that of course your favorite song would be the one that reminded you of him.

“I’m glad I kept that fucking tape,” you laughed, a little hysterically as you untangled yourself from him.

“I knew you liked Foreigner,” he grinned cheekily, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get tired of that look on his face. It didn’t happen often, especially not there at the end when he’d not been in control of himself. But you’d spend the rest of your days trying to recreate that smile as much as possible.

“Only because of you.”

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shookifer · 1 year

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Love languages, am I right?

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shookifer · 1 year

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A Place to Land

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You told Billy you love him. And he knows it's time to break up with you.

Warnings: Minor language (I don't think I use the F word), angst to fluff, insecure Billy, drunk Billy

Word Count: 3495

A/N: I'm actually really proud of this one. I think I fixed what was bugging me about it a few weeks ago. Please let me know what you think! I also recognize this is not one of the requests I have in my ask box. I will get to those, but I am weak to the little gremlins controlling my hyper-fixations.

The day Billy realized he loved you, he knew he had to leave. It was only a matter of time before you broke up with him. He felt it when he woke up from nightmares, and you held him.

He felt it if he wanted to leave a party early because the crowds reminded him of how claustrophobic his mind felt under the Mind Flayer’s influence—he thought your frown was annoyance.

Your look of pity each time he didn’t answer you because he flashed back to that time killed him.

Before the Mind Flayer, he wondered why you agreed to that initial date with him. He was an asshole—so angry at everything. Angry at himself. What did you even see in him?

Your date had to be one of his favorite memories. He took you to see The Goonies, bought popcorn to share, and when he took your chin and turned you to kiss him, you waved him off after the third one. He would’ve been irritated; any other girl and he’d have considered the night a bust, but you were so invested in the screen that he couldn’t help his lips turning up. He wasn’t sure you realized you grabbed his hand at one point in your excitement at the film. Neither of you pulled away until it was over to gather your things. He had thrown an arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. And when you asked if he wanted to go to the diner down the street, a little jump in his stomach made him say “yes.”

It felt…nice…that someone wanted to spend time with him. Maybe he was interesting enough without sex.

He’d never laughed as hard as he did that night. You were funny and kind, sweet and smart—and dammit—the way you smiled at him? You were so goddamn beautiful. He was hooked.

Now, after the Mind Flayer—after he found out this wasn’t your first time dealing with that creature—he knew he loved you. He felt the beginning of it that first night. And that meant you would hurt him. That meant you would leave.

Exactly like his mom had.

But Billy was a coward.

The day he had decided to end it, he kept pushing it back. He had picked you up, and you smiled, and he thought, “Tomorrow.”

You were in the middle of a date, sitting across from one another, and he had imagined that smile turning into a sneer. He had been so close to blurting it out. Then, you giggled and intertwined your fingers with his.

Then, Steve invited everyone over for a BBQ. He had tackled you into the pool, and when you both emerged, you laughed and splashed him. He warned you with the biggest smile, and you started swimming to the other end of the pool.

Billy watched it all. And he felt sick.

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t angry enough to be jealousy. It was like confirmation. One day, you could have this when you were no longer tied to him. If it was happening now, then it’d happen in the future.

He had to break up with you.

No matter how much it’d kill him.

—

He pulled in front of your house, barely getting out of the car before you were bounding toward him.

You were so excited to see him that you couldn’t even wait for him to reach the door.

He shook his head slightly. He had to do this, had to beat you to the punch.

“Hey, Billy! How are—”

“We need to talk,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

“Oh? What about?” You tilted your head, scanning over his tense posture.

He let out a slow breath. Just rip the bandaid off.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?” Had you heard him correctly?

“I’m breaking up with you,” he repeated, jaw clenched.

You took a tentative step forward.

“Billy, I—what do you mean? Are you okay?”

It didn’t make sense. You were attached at the hip yesterday; Billy couldn’t keep his hands off you, and now he wanted to break up?

What the hell was going on?

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets to hide his whitening knuckles. He didn’t trust himself to not grab hold of you.

“I mean, it’s over. I don’t love you.”

You furrowed your brow, inhaling shakily. “I love you, Billy. I’ve been telling you for weeks now. I know you haven’t said it yet, but that’s okay! I’d never pressure you into—”

He had to cut you off if he was gonna get through this.

“And I’ve realized I don’t love you. What? You gonna make me stay with you?” He wished he could get through this without looking at you, but then you wouldn’t believe him.

You’d be okay. You may hate him now, but you’d move on. And he’d never have to know the pain of you leaving him—of you having an everlasting disdain for him. This hate would only be temporary.

“...You know I won’t,” you whispered. “I’d never force you to do anything.”

He'd had enough of that his entire life.

He nodded. “Then I guess we’re over.”

He turned to walk back to the driver’s side, pulling the door open with more force than needed.

“I don’t believe you.” You managed to get out before he got in.

He stopped. His hand was on the car's roof but didn’t look up.

It gave you a bit of hope.

“I don’t believe that you don’t love me. I see it every time you look at me.” You sniffled. “I know you, Billy. You never would’ve been with me for this long—through all this shit—if you didn’t love me.” You wiped at your tears. “But if this is what you need to do, then I guess you have to do it. And I’ll still love you. That’s never going to change.” You took in a shaky breath. “So, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

He didn’t know how you could read his mind. But it had always been like that. You could anticipate what he needed before even he knew.

He wanted to run to you, to scoop you into his arms and apologize, but that nagging in his head wouldn’t stop. The image of you and Steve smiling and laughing. That phone call with his mother—Billy begging her to take him, too.

It felt like you confessed to him just yesterday—that warm feeling in his chest froze over.

You’d leave him eventually. Even if you didn’t think you would, he’d do something to change that. He’d ruin the best relationship he ever had, and then you’d be gone.

He blinked rapidly, getting into his car and speeding away. But not before glancing in his rearview to see the tear tracks streaming down your face.

—

It had been three weeks since Billy broke up with you, and every day your chest seemed to hurt worse. You had spent the first few days hopeful, convincing yourself Billy would be at your door any moment to apologize and explain why he did what he did. It didn’t fully sink in until the fourth day that he was serious.

You had arguments, of course, but Billy was always quick to remedy the situation. He didn’t like when you were angry with him. He said it put a pit in his gut because it reminded him of his anger toward his father. Even if it wasn’t nearly the same thing, Billy still hated the idea that you could ever loathe him that much.

But you didn’t hate him—could never hate him. You just wanted him back, but you didn’t know how to do that. You had called but either gotten Max or nothing at all. You had driven by several times, but Max and Billy weren't home, or he ignored you because—of course—he could tell it was you by your knock.

By week two, you were almost positive you had done something to him. However, you had no idea what. You played through every moment you spent with Billy, and the closest thing you could come up with was that you were a bit clingy. And even when you asked Billy about it, he said he liked it!

That was a few months ago, and he wasn't one to hold his tongue if something bothered him. It was one thing you loved about him. Even though it may come off as harsh—which he was working on—nothing ever festered with him. There was no chance of growing regrets.

You had barely gotten any sleep the past few weeks.

Lying in bed in one of Billy’s shirts, you tried to take your mind off everything with a book when the phone rang.

You sighed but got up to answer anyway. At this hour, it was either Robin or Steve.

“Hello?”

You waited a moment, no one speaking, and then a deep breath came through.

“(Y/N)?”

“Max?” You furrowed your brow. “Is everything okay?”

You’d spoken to her plenty since your break up, but she had never called you after ten. You gripped the phone tighter, ready to listen to anything she had to say, and hoped she was alright.

“I don’t…It’s Billy.” She waited for your response, and when you didn’t give one because of your surprise, she continued, “He’s been drinking a lot since your…since you know…and I’m worried. This is the worst it’s ever been, and I…I don’t know what to do.” She let out a shaky breath. “Can you please come over? I think he needs you.”

Your heart was in your throat. Part of you wanted to refuse. Billy ended things. There was no way he wanted to see you.

But the selfish part of you wanted to see him, to make sure he was okay, to maybe get some answers out of his inebriated state. Even if you didn’t want to hear them. So, you told her you’d be over soon. Not bothering to change, you threw on shorts and shoes and grabbed your keys.

—

You didn’t know what to expect when you arrived. Billy could hold his alcohol, but you didn’t know what frame of mind he was in. The fact that Max called you to begin with set you on edge.

You barely knocked on the door before Max ripped it open.

“Hey.” Her mouth pinched. “He’s in his room. He was…He turned off the music ten minutes ago. I’m not sure what he’s doing.”

You nodded. “...You said he’s been doing this since we…since he—”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what to do anymore,” she said.

You placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll try to figure out what’s going on.”

You weren’t sure if you knocked or not on Billy’s door. The thumping of your heart drowned out the taps.

His slurred “go ‘way, Max” made it nearly stop. Just how long had he been like this?

“It’s me, Billy.”

He opened the door faster than Max, eyes wide as he took you in, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were here.

“(Y/N)?”

The glassiness of his eyes made you want to pull him close and tell him everything would be okay. That whatever was going on in his head, you could face together.

“Is s’tha’ really you?” His knuckles brushed your cheek, testing to see if this was another daydream. And when he made contact, he breathed, “I miss s’you.”

Your nose tingled. “I miss you, too, Billy.”

A singular tear slipped down his face as he cupped yours.

“Hey,” you cooed. “It’s okay.” You wiped it away. “Everything’s okay.”

He shook his head adamantly. “I’m sorry. M'sorry…sorry…”

His shoulders shook, and he could no longer look at you, head hanging low.

You hushed him softly as you led him back into his room and closed the door. His apologies continued until you sat on his bed and pulled his head into your neck.

You brushed through his curls and blinked back your own tears. Never had you seen Billy like this.

He had gotten better at telling you what he felt but still kept a lot to himself. This…This was a sadness you couldn’t handle seeing in him. You wanted nothing more than to take it away—fix it—so you could see that brilliant smile again.

“I lo’you.” He burrowed further into you. “Love you.”

They were quiet confessions, but they held so much conflict.

You were relieved, almost ecstatic, but he was drunk. It might just be because you were here, comforting him.

In any other scenario, you’d be the happiest person alive. However, with every “I love you,” a knife seemed to lodge into your heart.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Everything’s okay. I forgive you.”

He squeezed you tighter in response. All he wanted was to be closer to you. Like that could erase what he had done.

With another kiss, you gently guided him away so you could meet his gaze.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?” You tucked a stray curl behind his ear, and he nodded. It seemed he was content to do whatever you said.

You helped switch his shirt to a clean one and handed him a pair of boxers, covering your eyes when he didn’t hesitate to remove the ones he wore.

“How’s that feel? A little better,” you asked, combing through his hair with your fingers.

He hummed, leaning in.

“Good,” you said. “I’m gonna get you some water and aspirin for tomorrow.”

When you went to pull away, his hand shot up to grip yours.

“Please,” his eyes were near watery, “please, don’t leave me.”

Maybe you were imagining it, but his plea felt like it held so much weight.

He was asking you to stay with him, to sleep beside him so he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable in an already vulnerable state. But it also felt like he was asking you to not walk away from him. That even though he broke up with you, he regretted it. And hoped you would want him back, accept him and all his mistakes. All his flaws.

Either way, the answer was the same.

“I’ll always be right here, Billy.” You squeezed his hand. “You get settled, and I’ll be right back.”

He slowly nodded, letting your hand slip from his.

And when you came back, Billy was on his side, facing the door, a space for you wide open.

Once you got in, he nuzzled into your chest, arms securely around you.

“Love you,” he mumbled, already half asleep.

“Love you, too,” you whispered, heart in your throat.

—

There were three blissful seconds of peace, of the comfort of an arm wrapped around your waist when you woke up. Then last night flooded back.

Billy drunk.

Him crying.

And saying he loved you.

And you had said it back even though you were afraid the next day would bring you more hurt.

He might not remember.

Or worse, he might not have meant it.

Looking up at the peaceful expression on his face pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind.

He’d feel like shit today, so the least you could do was make him breakfast and ensure he was alright.

You had managed to switch positions throughout the night. He had held you like always.

You carefully slipped out and into the kitchen. And as you worked, you prepared for the worst.

—

The ache in his chest might’ve been worse than the one in his head. The sun hurt his eyes, and the cold spot beside him bit at his torso.

You had been there.

He couldn’t remember all of last night. But you had been standing outside his door. And the smell of your shampoo clung to his sheets anew. Back where it belonged. The day it had worn off, he had buried his face in his pillow, desperate for one part of you to still be with him.

But you weren’t here anymore.

He swallowed the aspirin, wondering if Max had put it there. Maybe she took pity on him and was making him breakfast.

The bacon made his mouth water. He just hoped she wouldn’t want him to open up about last night. He didn’t want to relive it, especially when you had left before he woke up.

He dragged his feet in the hallway, one hand grazing the wall with the other rubbing his eyes.

He would've plopped down at the table. He would’ve tucked his head in his arms and maybe drifted in and out until Max nudged him. Instead, he stopped and stared.

You were still here.

His heavy steps must have alerted you because you glanced over your shoulder and gave him a small smile.

“Morning,” you said softly.

“Hi,” he said, blinking once, then again.

You motioned for him to sit at the table, and he did without another word.

You hadn’t left him.

After placing some food down, you sat across from him.

He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure he was awake right now. After everything he put you through, you stayed.

His mind was still foggy. Add that to the thoughts racing through it, and he didn’t know where to start. Thankfully, you spoke first.

“I miss you,” you whispered, hands folded atop the table.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I miss you, too.”

Without his notice, his hand had sought yours out, his fingers sneaking underneath to trace your palm. “I miss you so much.”

Your answering squeeze was like a switch—it made things brighter.

“I’m right here,” you said.

He nodded, not even trying to keep the smile at bay.

He believed you. Last night was proof. He was at one of his lowest points, and you had shown up—you had stayed.

Still, the smallest part of him had to hear you say it.

“Promise?” He locked eyes with you, pleading.

You took his hand in both of yours. “I promise,” you said. “I love you.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “I love you, too.”

You brought his hand up to kiss his knuckles, and he could feel your smile against his skin.

He needed you closer.

Tugging at you, he muttered a “come here,” guiding you onto his lap and pushing his nose into your neck, breathing into you. “I love you so much.”

You said it back, running a hand through his messy curls, then trailing your thumbs around his ears down to his jaw, holding him gently so you could kiss him. You wanted to savor every second of this. You had a lot to discuss, but right now? You just wanted to be with him.

His grip tightened as he returned the kiss.

He wanted to apologize again, to tell you how much he regretted what he said. Before he could, you looked at him as if you couldn't get enough.

“As much as I would love to continue kissing you, I’m starving. And you need to eat.”

He laughed, a genuine, full-fledged laugh, something he hadn’t done in weeks.

You tried pushing off his lap, but he wouldn’t let you budge.

“I’m just gonna get my own plate,” you said, giving him a quizzical look.

He shook his head. “Eat off mine.”

And with the contentment and hope on his face, you couldn’t argue. So, you swiped a piece of bacon, taking a bite as he kissed your shoulder.

"This mine?" he asked, pulling at the hem of your shirt.

"Yeah. I've kinda been cycling through all the ones in my closet," you said.

He hummed, a sullen look crossing his features.

"Been wearing your ring," he muttered, fishing out his Saint Christopher to show you the ring hanging on it.

You toyed with both pieces, rubbing your thumb over the face of the original, then set it back to his chest. You pressed your palm against his heart, and he placed his hand over it.

You leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes.

He took a sharp breath, then relaxed.

When you finally looked into his eyes, they held security. He trusted you. And he would continue to trust you with something he didn't trust anyone with.

As you ate, one of your arms stayed around his shoulders, sometimes playing with his hair or rubbing his neck. His stayed firmly around your waist, his fingertips grazing up and down your side, trailing further to your thigh.

It was perfect, this moment. Every laugh Billy brought out of you, every kiss you gave him, every word said; it was all a balm. He wasn’t completely healed, he knew that, but he also knew you.

You had reassured him, given him a place to land when he never thought that place existed. You loved him. And that meant you weren’t going anywhere.

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shookifer · 1 year

Text

Life Guard

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: It's the middle of summer and everyone decides to go to the pool. You don't know how to swim, but at least Billy's on duty.

Warnings: Language, almost drowning, protective Billy

Word Count: 3169

A/N: Here's that protective Billy fic I was talking about! Also, is the title cheesy? It's definitely cheesy. Should I change it? And I just had to use this gif. I mean, look at his back!

The hottest day of the year meant one thing: pool day. Everyone had agreed to meet there after picking up their assigned children.

“I’m pretty sure this is what Hell feels like,” Erica said after closing her door.

You chuckled and agreed, pulling out of the Sinclair driveway.

“You both brought your sunscreen, right,” you asked, looking in your rearview mirror at Lucas and Erica.

They nodded.

“Good. Max?” You glanced toward her before turning back to the road.

“Do you really need to ask?” She tugged gently at her hair.

“Just checking,” you said. “I have extra if anyone needs it.”

It didn’t take you long to reach the pool. When you arrived, Steve, Robin, and Dustin were already there.

You caught the last second of Steve cannonballing and splashing Dustin when Robin waved you all over.

“Finally! The testosterone was becoming too much!” Robin said, dramatic as ever.

“Have you been here long?” You set your bag beside the lounger and took a seat. Max, Lucas, and Erica didn’t waste any time jumping in.

“Ten whole minutes,” she whined, making you chuckle.

“Then it’s a good thing I got here when I did,” you said, grinning.

You relaxed into your chair after slipping your sandals off. The umbrella provided enough coverage to keep the sun off you. It was as cool as you were going to get out here.

Not knowing how to swim certainly put a damper on things during the summer months, but it was never something you were in a rush to learn. For you, summer meant working and saving up for college, not hanging out at the pool—one of the many reasons your friends insisted you come with them. They all knew you couldn’t swim. They also knew a public pool wasn’t the most conducive to learning, but you knew it’d be fine. Robin and Nancy would sit and chat with you anyway. The boys and the kids were the ones who took full advantage of the water.

“So,” Robin grinned, leaning in closer, “who do you think's gonna get water up their nose first?”

You tapped your chin as if in serious thought. “Dustin.”

“I was thinking the same.” She nodded as if you had concluded an important meeting.

Said child seemed to be having a race with Steve and Lucas toward the deep end while Erica and Max were leaning on pool noodles and laughing.

Faintly, a lifeguard’s whistle was mixed with shrieks of joy and splashes. The piece of metal fell to the guard’s exposed chest. Your eyes trailed along his strong shoulders and neck to land on his face.

Billy.

The heat in your cheeks was no longer from the weather.

Your friendship with Billy Hargrove was unexpected, to say the least. His friendship with the rest of your group—even more so. Fighting an interdimensional monster would do that to someone.

He’d changed a lot since last summer. Fortunately, it was for the better. It was obvious in the way he handled his job here. Billy had ruled the pool with an iron fist before. Now, he was less severe. You’d been here a few times already this summer, and not once had he threatened banishment to some too-excited kid who disregarded the safety rules.

You clocked the scars along his abdomen.

It had taken months of reassurance and support for him to take his shirt off. Before then, you never would have described Billy as insecure, but the Mind Flayer stole so much from him. You were just thankful it wasn’t worse. Joyce had closed the gate right on time.

Now, he sat in his chair with his shoulders back, relaxed, and surveyed the area like he used to.

Though he wore sunglasses, you knew he was looking at you when his head stopped in your direction.

You gave him a small smile and a little wave, and he answered with a flirty smirk of his own.

“Get a room,” Robin groaned. “You’re both ridiculous!”

You playfully swatted her.

She’d known for a while now how you felt about Billy. She had caught you staring a little too long, then at a sleepover, made you spill. And it brought you such relief to tell someone.

“C’mon, you’ve been flirting for months!”

“You know he flirts with everyone,” you said.

“Not since what happened,” she countered. “And I know you’ve noticed it, too.”

You had, but you were sure it was just because you'd been there. He had no reason to hide from you. And that gave him the space to be himself again. It’d only be a matter of time before he was chatting up one of the women strutting by his tower trying to get his attention.

She sighed. “All I’m saying is, I think you should give it a chance.” She poked your arm. “You have chemistry, and I know you’d be good together.”

You squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

She stood, stretching. “Anytime. Now, I’m gonna get something from the vending machine. Any requests?”

“Whatever you’re getting.”

She nodded, walking toward the machines.

You pulled out your book, determined to finish it before you left the pool. Or before Billy got off his shift.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Dustin called. “Can you bring me my goggles?”

“Sure!” You scooped them up from the edge of Robin’s chair and walked over to him. “Here”

“Thanks.” He gave you that smile you loved.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, looking around.

“He’s gonna do the high dive. I think he’s trying to impress the girl in the blue bikini,” he said, nodding across the pool.

You shook your head slightly. “He knows that won’t actually work, right?”

He shrugged. “I tried to tell him.”

“In other words, ice cream is a must after this.” You usually followed the same rulebook for Steve’s failed flirting as you did for Robin: ice cream and a bitch sesh.

“Ice cream is always a must.”

You laughed, eyes focused on his smiling face.

Maybe if you were paying more attention, you would’ve seen the little boy running to the diving boards. You may have moved in time to avoid him bumping into you and sending you straight into the deep end.

—

Billy spotted you the moment you walked toward Robin with your gaggle of children. Max had told him she’d be here with the rest of your group. So, when the first to arrive were Steve, Robin, and Dustin, he deflated a little.

Ten minutes later, he straightened and ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a little kid. You made his stomach twist in the best possible way and your smile? He’d do anything to see it.

Every so often, he’d glance back your way. You and Robin laughed at something and his lips ticked up ever so slightly.

He always kept an eye on you. He didn’t want to miss the way your shoulders shook as you laughed. Or the smile you gave El when she wanted you to watch her hold her breath. Or the view he’d get when you bent over facing toward or away from him—he didn’t know which he preferred.

He also knew you couldn’t swim. And every time you showed up, he watched you—made sure you stayed away from the edge. Part of him wished you wouldn’t come to the pool, but the selfish side loved when you did.

It was easier when he was off duty. He didn’t have to pay attention to everyone else. He’d sit at the foot of your lounger and talk to you while the others swam. You’d poke him with your toes if he flustered you too much, and he’d grab your feet and move closer to put them on his lap. He’d graze a finger up the bottom of one, and when you went to pull away, he’d grip your ankle and laugh, promising not to do it again.

You’d ask him to reapply sunscreen to your back. And each time he’d massage it into your shoulders, your neck—his thumbs pushing the tension away—down until he reached your swimsuit, and then move onto your arms. You’d always tell him you could do that part, and he’d grunt at you, wanting to touch you a little longer.

Then, when he finished, you’d offer the same, and he’d turn around, stifling a moan when your hands rubbed his shoulders and down his spine. He’d tease you, ask if you could do his chest, to which you rolled your eyes, but did it anyway because you told him once you didn’t think he applied enough to begin with. You never said it was because you liked touching him, too.

He continued scanning the rest of the pool. It wouldn’t be long before his shift ended, and he could finally join you.

Everything was relatively calm—kids playing, parents sitting with one another, high schoolers gossiping as they floated. Everything was normal.

“(Y/N)!”

His head shot to the panicked voice, dread clawing his gut.

Dustin’s arms waved frantically at Billy.

Where were you?

And he dove in.

You were sinking, bubbles no longer escaping your mouth. And the feeling in his gut worsened as your eyes slowly closed.

He’d taken his eyes away from you for a second.

That was all it took.

Just one second.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, using the other to propel himself upward.

Dustin was still panicking and had gathered the attention of his friends, who had rushed forward when Billy emerged.

Billy vaguely noticed Steve above him.

“Help me get her out,” Billy called. “Lay her down.”

Steve hauled you by your arms, using the towel around his neck as a pillow. Billy was beside you in a moment doing compressions.

“C’mon,” he muttered before pinching your nose and pushing air into your lungs. “C’mon.”

Each press into your chest made his hurt.

He couldn’t lose you. He just couldn’t. Not like this, not when you survived so much. Not when you’d become so important to him. Not before he could tell you.

You coughed, water spurting from your throat as you instinctively turned to get it out.

Relief washed over him.

“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Your coughing slowly subsided, but your breath shook, and the urge to cry crept up your nose. You’d been so close. You felt the water burning your lungs as you sunk further and further.

Billy’s body heat comforted you as you shivered. You rested your head in the crook of his neck. The warmth of his skin made you shudder at the contrast. All the energy had been drained from you. You were just so cold, so fucking scared.

“I’ve got you, honey,” he repeated, placing a towel around your shoulders. “Let’s go to a chair, okay?”

He was so gentle with you, only his tone registering, but whatever he was saying, you’d agree with.

He hooked an arm under your knees and his other around your back and walked you to one of the Adirondack chairs.

Kneeling in front of you, he covered your hands with his.

“(Y/N).”

You stared at your joined hands, wanting to burrow into him to have some semblance of warmth.

“Sweetheart, I need you to look at me,” he said.

You did.

“You’re safe now.” He used one hand to graze the side of your thigh. “How ‘bout I take you home?”

You slowly nodded. This was the last place you wanted to be. Your nerves felt so exposed here.

“Okay.” He smiled gently, brushing your forehead with his lips as he rose to his feet.

“Here,” Robin said, setting your tote beside you. She placed a hand on your shoulder, and you touched it in thanks.

Billy pulled your coverup out of it and slipped it over your head.

“C’mon,” he shouldered your bag, “let’s go home.”

His arm went around your waist as he led you through the locker room to get his belongings.

When you got to his car, he placed you in the passenger seat and hooked you.

The way to your home was silent. And that was okay. You were still trying to settle yourself, and just being out of there helped.

Billy had put a hand on your thigh, needing to remind himself that you were next to him—that you were still breathing.

It comforted you—he did that in general. Maybe in a different situation, it would fill your stomach with butterflies. But right now, it was the contact you needed.

He was right here. And so were you.

You were grateful your parents were out when you arrived. You didn’t think you could handle any questions.

Billy’s hand was at the small of your back as you walked inside and went to your room to change. And he went to the kitchen to get you some water.

You got out of that swimsuit as fast as you could. Once Billy left, all you wanted was for him to come back.

It was like your chest didn’t hurt as much when he was in your line of sight.

He’d changed out of his suit and was waiting on the couch, patting the back of it when he saw you.

“Feel any better?” he asked.

You nodded slowly. “A bit.”

“What about inside? Anything hurt?” He leaned toward you, scanning your figure like he could pinpoint those spots.

“I’m fine, Billy,” you said. “Really. Maybe a little shaky, but that’s it. You don’t…” You didn’t want him to go, but you didn’t want to force him to stay. “You can go back if you want to. I know you wanted to hang out with everyone.” You didn’t want to feel like a burden. Billy deserved more than being tied down here with you.

He didn’t speak.

He wanted to hang out with you. He may have befriended everyone else, but you were the one he wanted to be around.

You had stopped shaking and coughing. Your breathing seemed normal, and the fear in your eyes was gone. You looked more exhausted than anything.

But still, he kept flashing back to you sinking.

He could’ve lost you. If Dustin hadn’t yelled, you might not be here. And he feared if he left you now, it’d somehow all be a dream. You wouldn't be sitting next to him. You’d be at the bottom of the pool, and he’d have to live with the guilt of not being able to save you.

But you were here. And you were okay. And he had to keep reminding himself of that.

“Let me stay,” he breathed, eyes pleading.

Yours softened, and you nodded.

He gave you a grateful smile. “Good. How about a movie? You can pick anyone you want, sweetheart.”

The pet name sent shivers up your spine, and he noticed. A concerned look covered his features.

“Are you okay? Are you still cold?” he asked, scooting closer.

You shook your head. You were definitely far from cold.

“Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Billy, I’m fine,” you urged.

“You inhaled a lot of water—”

“I promise.” You put a hand over his. “I just…I like when you call me that.” You played with your fingers, avoiding his gaze.

His face pulled in confusion. When he called you what?

He tried to think of what you were talking about, and then it dawned on him. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been doing it.

A grin spread across his face.

“You like it when I call you ‘sweetheart’?” He moved, his knee touching yours.

You nodded slightly.

“What about ‘honey’?” His head tilted so he could try and meet your eyes.

Again, you nodded, but the smallest of smiles tugged at your lips.

“And ‘baby’?” He lifted your chin with a finger, and your breath hitched.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I like it.”

“How would you feel if I used them all the time?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, but the smile still spread. “I’d like it.”

“And what if I wanted to use them in front of our friends? Would you be okay with that?” he asked, leaning in.

“Only if you asked me out first,” you said.

He chuckled. “Could I still kiss you right now?”

“You better.”

His lips pressed against yours a second later. He tasted like mint and the barest traces of smoke and chlorine. He pulled you into his lap so you straddled him, and your hands cupped both sides of his neck.

You loved how warm he was. Every time you saw him, you wanted to burrow beneath his clothing and find a home there. You didn’t know if it was his Cali sun-kissed skin, or maybe the fire from his cigarettes, or a combination of both, but it was entirely Billy.

His hand trailed up your back to your neck, his other gripping your thigh, trying to plant you there. And part of you wished he’d squeeze harder so the bruises would remind you of this moment.

But you had to pull away.

You panted into each other's mouths, foreheads pressed together. And his hands slid to your waist and wrapped around you, hugging you to him.

“There’s somethin’ I have to tell you,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek.

“You can tell me anything,” you said, thumb rubbing his jaw.

“I love you.”

You pulled back to look at him better. “What?”

“I,” he cleared his throat, “I love you.”

You caught the panic in his eyes, but before he could move, you put your hands atop his.

“I love you,” you breathed, smiling.

He laughed, cupping your cheeks to kiss you—soft and sweet, and it felt like love.

“Does this mean I can call you ‘baby’?” you asked, a teasing lit to your voice.

He grinned, pulling you closer by your hips. “You better.”

He kissed you again, and you had the passing thought that you could do this all the time.

—

The next time you went to the pool, Billy had a lounger and umbrella for you right behind the lifeguard chair.

He greeted you with a kiss, his hand slipping down to squeeze your ass. But you caught it. As much as you liked how physical he was, you weren’t about to let the other pool goers see.

“You shouldn’t have anything to worry about, honey. Just sit back and relax,” he said.

“Why’s that?” you asked, pushing one of his curls behind his shoulder.

“‘Cause I banned that little shit.” He shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t actually do that,” you said, laughing lightly.

“But he doesn’t.” He kissed you again. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Now, enjoy the show.” He winked, then reclaimed his place on his chair.

You shook your head slightly but did as he said. And at one point, when you called out a ‘baby’ to get his attention, you knew the flush on his cheeks wasn’t from the sun.

2K notes · View notes

shookifer · 1 year

Text

Connection

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: You stumble across Billy when you go to stargaze. He seeks you out each time after. (Based on an urge I had to write an unconsciously cuddly Billy.)

Warnings: Language, mentions of Neil and his abuse

Word Count: 2380

A/N: Okay, so I know yesterday I said about you all not being ready, but now that I've read this after a day, I'm not so confident in that statement. It's nice and all, but I think I let the whole "wrote this story in one sitting" get to my head. Anyway, let me know what you think! Also, I don't use feminine pronouns in this, but one part of this may lean toward the reader being a female, so if anyone thinks I should change this to a Billy x Fem!Reader, message me!

Billy Hargrove was the last person you expected to see in your field.

You supposed, technically, it wasn’t your field, but you did come here whenever possible. It was the best place for stargazing.

It was close enough that you could walk there from home. Your backpack was stuffed with two blankets, snacks, and water.

You saw Billy before he noticed you. He sat on the hood of his car, the smoke from his cigarette drifting to you on the breeze.

Cordial would be the best way to describe your relationship with him. Neither of you really spoke, but his sister had become your friend, so awkward pleasantries were as deep as you and Billy went.

You should probably say something to him. It’d be weirder if you didn’t.

Before you could, Billy looked over his shoulder, squinting over your flashlight until he could see you.

“What’re you doing out here?” Billy asked, turning back around.

“Could ask you the same,” you said, slipping your hands into your pockets.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, lips tugging down.

“You should go home. It’s late,” he said. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

You bit the inside of your cheek. He clearly didn’t want to be disturbed, and you weren’t about to poke the bear.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you. I’ll just be over there.” You gestured with your head to the right, walking off before he could give you a response.

You pulled both blankets out of your backpack, laying one down and using the other as a pillow.

At first, it was odd to have an audience. Not that you thought Billy was staring at you, but just that another presence was here. It was that feeling you got when someone watched you do something you’d done a hundred times, but because someone was watching, it was like it was the first time you were doing it.

Twenty minutes passed, and you were finally settled, the stars gaining your full attention as they let your mind wander. You were connecting all the ones in Pegasus when you were interrupted.

“How are a bunch of tiny dots so interesting?” Billy stood beside you, arms crossed.

You would've been a little annoyed by the question, but something told you this was his way of reaching out. And you weren’t about to push away someone who needed a bit of company.

“Why don’t you lay down, and I’ll show you?” You patted the spot next to you.

He hesitated. Maybe he expected you to get irritated or start an argument, but your invitation relaxed him slightly. And he laid down, arms behind his head.

You smiled to yourself and looked back up, searching for the right constellation.

“Okay, do you see that little diamond shape with the tail?” You pointed.

His eyes narrowed, searching. “They all look the same.”

You rolled yours. “Okay. How about the big square over that way?” You moved your finger to the left, tracing the shape.

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good! That’s a part of Pegasus. Now, keep your eyes in the middle and move to the right. Pass the first star you see and keep going—”

“You mean the thing that looks like a kite?” he asked.

“Yes!” You grinned. “That’s Delphinus.”

“Like a dolphin?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly. The myth goes that this constellation represents the dolphin Poseidon sent the goddess Amphitrite because he wanted to marry her.”

“He sent a dolphin to get her?” he asked slowly, giving you an “are you serious” look.

You nodded. “Another myth is that the dolphin saved a Greek poet after the poet sang a song as his 'last words.' He threw himself overboard, and the dolphin saved him.”

He was quiet for a moment, staring intently at the constellation.

“Which one do you like better?” His eyes met yours, and you were struck by how blue they were. The same blue you imagined, the dolphin swam in.

“The latter,” you said.

He looked at you in surprise. “Really? Not the other one? I thought girls liked that romantic shit.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s not really romantic. All the dolphin did was give Amphitrite a ride. The other one is…” How did you want to put this? “...It has more meaning.”

He waited for you to continue.

“The poet, Arion, sang a song that drew this dolphin toward him. His art literally saved his life because Delphinus was so moved by it and had to go toward it.” You softened. “Isn’t that what everyone wants? For someone to acknowledge you for who you are?”

He analyzed you for a few minutes. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you wished he’d say something. You hadn’t meant to say all that, and something about saying it to Billy felt like your heart was on the line. He could act disinterested, he could argue with you, or he could laugh in your face.

He had never been blatantly rude to you before, prickly, of course, but this felt different. Like there was a line between you two, and depending on his response, he’d either build a wall or cross over onto your side.

He slowly nodded. “I think I like the second one, too,” he almost whispered. Then, faced the stars once more.

It wasn’t what you expected, but the corners of your mouth lifted.

You spent the rest of the night pointing out other constellations. He took a keen interest in Equuleus. The horse had been pierced by Neptune’s trident when he and Athena were competing to determine who’d be the superior.

It went on for some time like that. He’d ask questions, and you’d try your best to answer. Or he’d make up his own constellations.

“You see that long-ass rectangle?” he asked, tracing with his finger.

“Yeah.”

“That’s ‘Smoke Break,’” he said. And when you giggled in response, he grinned.

You had unfolded the other blanket, draping it over the both of you. Between the conversations, the silence lulled you into a sleepy haze. And before you knew it, you were asleep.

—

When Billy woke up and saw the sun rising, he’d never been more confused. Then, he saw you, curled into his side with his arm around your waist. He couldn’t find it in himself to move.

Last night was something he could never have imagined.

Neil had a bad day at work. And that usually resulted in a few good shoves and a backhand. Billy had stormed out as soon as Neil left the living room.

Billy had been driving, speeding down the road when the rage left him, and he slowed to turn into a field. He’d been there ten-fifteen minutes when you showed up.

He wanted you to leave. Didn’t want any questions about why he was out here. So, when you pretty much left him alone, he was relieved. And sorta disappointed.

Billy had known you since high school. You’d been paired up for one project together that you both got an A on—the best grade he’d ever gotten, and he knew it was because of you—and that was about it.

He saw you when he dropped Max off and picked her up, and sometimes you’d wave at him if you saw him around.

In a way, Billy saw you as unreachable. Like your light was somehow drowning out his darkness. And he didn’t mind it. He just wasn’t sure he deserved it—to feel light himself. But you drew him in, and he couldn’t help but approach you after those twenty long minutes.

He was glad he did.

He’d never felt more at peace. You’d calmed a part of him that he didn’t think could be.

It was strange, but that moment with you didn’t feel real. As if the night sky wrapped you in a bubble for only the two of you to know.

And he refused to burst its remains until you woke up.

—

Billy had offered to drive you home that morning.

You’d awoken and pulled away almost instantly, face heating up and profusely apologizing.

He had shrugged them off and helped you shove the blankets back in your bag before throwing it in his backseat and holding the passenger door open.

It’d been a few days since then, and tonight was gonna be another clear one. On your walk to the field, you wondered if Billy would be there, too. It was probably a one-and-done thing—you still didn’t know why he had been there in the first place. But there was that spark of hope. And then disappointment when he wasn’t there.

A half hour went by, and you could feel yourself nodding off. You were trying to work up the energy to pack up when the crawling of wheels made you turn.

Billy got out of his car and strolled over.

“Anything interesting up there?” he asked.

You patted the spot beside you, and he took it without a thought.

“You know there are three goddesses of the moon in Greek mythology?” you said.

“How can there be three?” he asked, lying on his side.

“There’s Selene, Artemis, and Hecate.” You listed on your fingers. “Selene was believed to be the moon personified, while Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and wilderness, and Hecate is the goddess of magic and witchcraft.”

“Is Artemis the one with the wolves?” he asked.

You nodded. “Sometimes, though, she's often shown with deer.”

“Makes sense. What about Hecate? Think if I stare at the moon long enough, she’ll put me under her spell?”

You giggled. “I don’t think that’s how it works, but I guess you never know.”

“What else can you tell me?” he asked, giving you a lazy smile.

“Well, Selene is supposed to bring the moon across the sky with her chariot,” you said.

He hummed. “You think it’s an actual chariot or a motorcycle or somethin’?”

You snorted. “You’d love it if she had a motorcycle, wouldn’t you?”

“She’d be hot as shit.” His grin widened when you laughed. “C’mon, if you were pullin’ the moon across all that, wouldn’t you want something sexy?”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think. “A station wagon.”

He deadpanned. “A what?”

“A station wagon,” you repeated, trying not to laugh.

“Now you’re fucking with me.” He flopped onto his back.

You let a giggle slip. “Think about it. You have this beautiful celestial body, then a shitty, rundown station wagon in front of it. It’d be hilarious.”

You could tell he was imagining it and trying not to smirk.

“See! It’s funny!” you said, nudging his shoulder.

“Didn’t say that,” he said.

“But you thought it.”

He rolled his eyes. And it was enough of an admission for you.

The conversation slowly morphed into something else. Whereas the first night it was about the stars, tonight, it became more about the both of you.

“How do you know so much about this stuff,” he asked, adjusting the blanket over himself.

“I read a lot.” You played with a loose thread. “Helps that I didn’t have many friends growing up.”

He raised a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, looking at him through your lashes.

He blinked, then cleared his throat. “You’re always hanging around Max and her friends. And Harrington.”

You nodded, missing that tone in his voice. The one he tried to convince himself wasn’t there.

“Yeah, it took a while, but I think I’ve found my people,” you said.

He stopped himself from asking if that included him.

“You, uh, you still working at that bookstore?” he asked, needing to change the subject.

“Why? Thinking about reading up on some myths?” you teased.

He let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe. But I don’t think reading them would be quite the same as listening to you.”

You smiled in response.

Again, you lost yourselves that night, falling asleep and waking up with your head on his chest.

Each time your conversations delved deeper. And each morning, the hasty pack-up and drive home extended to soft “good mornings,” slow risings, and comfortable mullings of nothing. You began to crave those moments.

And so did he.

When he’d drop Max off at the bookstore, he’d walk her in, hoping to see you. And on those days, Max usually bought one book with another stashed under her arm. One to read at home and the other, so she had something to do as she sat in one of the armchairs as you and Billy talked.

Max told El what was happening. Then El told Mike, who told Dustin, and Dustin told Steve, and he told the rest.

None of them knew how your friendship blossomed or why it happened now.

Then, one night, Max watched from the crack in her door as Billy strode out of the house after another of Neil’s screaming sessions.

She knew Billy’s date look, and this wasn’t that. It didn't seem like he was running away this time. There was something in his steps that suggested he was running toward. And it clicked.

—

You were waiting for Billy. At this point, every time you were out here you were waiting for him.

He’d somehow wormed his way into your routine, and now, without him here, it felt wrong. Like you were missing this crucial piece.

When he finally arrived, he didn’t say a word, no sarcastic quip or flirty banter. He simply laid down. What you didn’t anticipate was for him to pull you into his side.

His arm settled around your shoulders, his other hand on your forearm, his thumb rubbing up and down. He didn’t look at you, didn’t speak, his brow furrowed.

It was a look you’d seen before.

It worried you.

You wanted it gone.

“So, what do you wanna know this time?” you asked tentatively, chin resting on his chest.

His eyes slid to yours. They relaxed like he finally realized where he was, and they became hooded. He trailed down to your lips, then back, the barest of smiles gracing his features.

“Everything,” he whispered, pulling you closer.

And you knew he wasn't talking about the stars.

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shookifer · 1 year

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His Golden Girl

Billy Hargrove x Golden girl! Reader

Imagine big bad Billy Hargrove with a sweet lil’ thang <3

—————————

Billy Hargrove isn’t the nicest guy at Hawkins. From the moment he smashed his black boots onto the concrete of the school parking lot, everyone knew he’d be trouble. On Billy’s first day he had managed to make himself more enemies than he could count on one hand. Billy could be described confrontational, aggressive, but charming, and foxily sly. However, not a soul could describe him as kind.

On the other hand, Y/N L/N is the nicest girl in Hawkins. She’s outgoing, and bubbly, and unnecessarily kind. Within a week of transferring to Hawkins she had made plenty of friends, joined clubs, and even earned a spot on the Hawkins high varsity cheer squad. No one would ever imagine that a good girl like Y/N would look twice at a troublemaker like Billy.

Y/N and Billy stayed separated for a long time. That is, until Billy and she started to leave gym together. It was an odd sight, with Billy’s hair damp from a shower, sticking to his face with Y/N on his arm, looking as if she’d never broken a sweat.

Later, the strolls from gym turned into escorts to class, and then accompaniment to lunch, until finally Billy became Y/N ride to and from school. The change was gradual, but beside the two’s aesthetic differences, they were completely in sync.

Billy and Y/N were never officially an item, at least not to the rest of the school. But typically, they were both interrogated by friends about the matter.

One day… “Y/N!” One of the cheerleaders trudged up to Y/N, pushing through a crowd of students filing into school. “Y/N! Hey girl!” Y/N turned around, smiling. “Hey Macy!” She replied. “Listen, how did you manage to snag a boytoy like Billy?” She giggled. “Oh I uh—“ Y/N was interrupted by Billy, throwing a cigarette down and stomping it into the concrete. “Y/N. Come on, let’s go.” He didn’t say where they were going, he just held out his arm for her with a sly grin to her friend.

It’s clear that Billy doesn’t care about the other girls interested in him, but by the way Macy acts towards Y/N, there is clear indication that Macy took an interest in Billy. “What was that about?” Billy would ask often, usually after overhearing someone question Y/N about their relationship. “Macy really wants to know what’s going on between us..” She bit her lip, squeezing Billy’s bicep as they walked to first period. “Leave her wanting to know more, it’s none of her business.” He grunted.

Billy has a reputation to uphold, but he does tend to act differently than usual when it comes to Y/N. Boys began to take notice from his group, but he’d brush it off. “You’re whipped, man.” Tommy Hagan clapped Billy on the shoulder in the locker room, after Billy had taken his normal speedy shower so he could see Y/N quicker. “Yeah, but Y/N’s a Betty, who wouldn’t be whipped if they got a chance to be with all that!” Another boy commented, smacking Tommy with a wet towel. Billy tended to shake off whatever comments he got, everyone knew that Billy did want he wanted anyway.

Shortly after Y/N and Billy get close, Billy joins the basketball team! Which is great, because the cheer squad and the basketball team usually practiced in the gym together. More often than not however, Y/N tends to get a bit distracted..

Billy’s loudest supporter at basketball games is definitely Y/N! With pom poms waving and high kicks galore, she most definitely gives it her all when Billy is put in to play! But the support goes both ways, because as soon as Billy is benched (which isn’t often) he is sure to cheer her on, cockily announcing “that’s my girl!”

When Billy and Y/N finally made it official, they turned into THE power couple at school. Every guy wanted to be Billy, and every girl wanted to be Y/N. However, it was obvious that they were completely enamored with each other. Y/N is just the one who outwardly shows affection— which is evident by the pink lipstick prints Billy wears like a badge of honor on his cheeks.

Billy doesn’t enjoy it when other guys hit on his girl though, and he’s one to cause a scene. But Y/N being as sweet as she is always tries her best to talk him him down, and it usually works <3 Billy could be in the middle of beating a guy half to death, but as soon as “Billy..” leaves his love’s sweet tender lips, he’s up and shaking hands.

Overall, big and bad Billy Hargrove and his golden girl are the cutest <3 <3

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shookifer · 1 year

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May the 4th be with you ✨

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shookifer · 1 year

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No Questions Asked

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers loved you gently, but Captain America treated you like a soldier. You learned the dangers of that dichotomy when his orders became too hard to follow.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Canon level violence, descriptions of injury, angst, Steve being a bad listener

a/n: Tiny break from ftlotg oneshots! First time writing for Steve :)

I discontinued my taglist, but you can follow my library blog @pellucid-library for notifications 🤍

Masterlist

Steve Rogers loved you gently.

He whispered in your ear when the kitchen got crowded, morning sunlight pouring into the Avengers Tower. Short and sweet. Just to tell you he loved you—in case you forgot. His hands would be fleeting on your waist as Tony yelled at you to get a room, and the coffee he made you would taste even sweeter on your lips.

He let you drag him to that farmers market on the other side of town, carrying the baskets full of produce and armfuls of flowers you fawned over. It would be easy for him to tell you it was unnecessary; Tony had people for grocery shopping. But he loved you, and he loved the way you looked in the Sunday morning breeze.

Keep reading

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shookifer · 1 year

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For the Love of the Game - Masterlist

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language, Angst, Minor injury, Smut (Minors dni, marked with **), Enemies to lovers trope!

a/n: This series is now complete :)

✶ Part One ✶

✶ Part Two ✶

✶ Part Three ✶

✶ Part Four ✶

✶ Part Five ✶

✶ Part Six ✶

✶ Part Seven ✶

Drabbles/One-shots (chronological after the main series, excluding the prequel)

Bucky realizing he’s falling in love. Prequel one-shot.

First time**

The fight

Bucky gets injured during a game

Going pro

What You’ve Got

In seven years

💙⚾️Playlist by @buckystarlight

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shookifer · 1 year

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I'm Gonna Marry You

word count: 5.4k

summary: You met Bucky while he was hiding out in Bucharest. Bucky dreamed he could have a life with you once things settled down. Unfortunately he’s forced to leave you behind when someone frames him for a crime he didn’t commit.

warnings: language, brief vague suicidal thoughts, reader is like so miserable, there is a happy ending i promise

a/n: i've never posted my writing before and i'm super nervous so be gentle on me. i hope you enjoy <3

BUCHAREST 2016

You and Bucky met in the laundry room in the basement of your building, and when you found out he had just moved in you showed up at his door later that evening with an apple pie and a cheap bottle of champagne you had leftover from a get together with friends. He poured the champagne down the sink, but he did enjoy the pie.

A few days later he realized that he probably should've invited you in to have the pie and champagne with him. That would've been the gentlemanly thing to do, and something he wouldn't have hesitated to do if it were 70 years earlier. But he was on the run, he shouldn't be entertaining guests. For all he knew you could be a spy placed there to watch him, just waiting for the right moment to barge in and kill him. Or worse, take him to prison. But, in case you really were just a nice girl that lived across the hall from him, he left a basket of fresh fruit from the farmer's market outside your door with a little note that read "Bucky." After finding the basket you invited Bucky over for dinner.

It didn't take Bucky very long to fall in love with you. He didn't know if it was because half of his brain was mush or if this is just what happened when you met someone you think you could grow old with, but he didn't care. He couldn't remember much of his life, but he was fairly certain that no one had cared about him quite like this. When he told you who he was you calmly nodded and said "I know, I recognized you from the news. That's why I brought you the pie."

"As a congratulations for murder?" He had asked.

"No," you playfully hit his chest, "to let you know I'm on your side."

That was the first time he cried in front of you. He could never fathom that someone so nice and innocent who let bugs outside instead of killing them could care for someone like him. You always reminded him that his idea of "someone like him" didn't exist. It was never anything he did, but rather something that was done to him.

Of course the thought that all of this could change in the blink of an eye was always in the back of his mind. He had nightmares that he turned back into him. Sometimes he had nightmares where Hydra came looking for him and you were collateral damage. Other times he had nightmares where he killed you himself. He gave you a gun and made you promise that if he ever turned back you would defend yourself and turn him in, or kill him if you had the chance. You knew you would never be able to defend yourself against the Winter Soldier, but you promised, because for some odd reason you trusted him.

You spent a lot of your time cooped up in one of your apartments daydreaming about what your future could look like. He would lay on his back and you would lay next to him with your head on his chest and his arm around you. He would tell you how he would take you on a proper date at a real restaurant and you would talk about all the things you wanted to show him that he had missed.

Everything changed after the attack in Vienna. You saw on the news that they were blaming the Winter Soldier for the bombing and the murder of the king of Wakanda as well as several others. You both knew he didn’t do it, but they were going to find him sooner or later.

A few days after the news came out you and Bucky went to the farmers market to fill up your pantries. He begged you not to come with him, knowing that people were looking for him, but you never listened. That was the only time you could go out in public together, even if you wore disguises. One of Bucky's nightmares came true though. There's no doubt that he was recognized while walking home.

You rushed back to your building with your heads down. As soon as you got into the elevator he handed you an old burner phone from his backpack. He told you to go straight to your apartment and lock the door, then to go into your bedroom and lock that door too. You started to cry and he wiped your tears, kissing your forehead.

"It's okay," he said, "I'll get in touch as soon as I can."

You nodded, putting the phone in your back pocket and wiping the remainder of your tears away.

"Don't look at anybody and don't come out until you're 100% sure it's safe. Don't try to help me. Just do as I say."

The elevator dinged as it reached your floor. Bucky gave you a final kiss on the forehead and sent you out, waiting a few moments before he returned to his apartment. You locked yourself in your apartment, but you didn't go back to your room. You pressed your face up against the door and listened for Bucky. You heard him enter his apartment, but there was someone in there.

"Do you know who I am?" The other voice asked.

"You're Steve."

Shortly after that you heard gunshots and fighting. You rushed into your bedroom and locked the door behind you, sinking to the floor against the far wall. You knew they weren’t trying to take him alive. You sobbed as quietly as possible to not alert anyone in the building or outside the window that you were in there. You stared at the burner phone with tears in your eyes until you fell asleep, not even bothering to get up onto the bed. You don’t know when the fighting stopped.

Two weeks later you were basically rotting away on your bed. There were no contacts on the phone he gave you, so you just had to wait for it to ring. You couldn't even contact him if it was an emergency. You had kept up with what they were saying about Bucky on the news. You knew he had been caught and you worried that he wouldn't have much time left. If he was even still alive.

You still hadn't left your apartment even though the authorities investigating Bucky’s across the hall were long gone. You worried that people would recognize you as "the woman with the Winter Soldier" as you were referred to on the news. There were blurry photos of you and Bucky walking home from the farmer's market that day. Your hat was covering your face in each photo, but who knows if others had seen you and could identify you.

When you saw the reports of Bucky fighting the Avengers as the Winter Soldier after breaking out of captivity your heart broke. It was a completely different person than who you knew. You should've been scared, but you weren't because you knew that wasn't him. It was his body, but it wasn’t him. Then, when you saw the aftermath of the Avengers’ fight in the airport you couldn't take it any longer. The news anchor said they had no idea where Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes had gone. Half of the Avengers were in hiding and you figured you'd better not reach out to the other half that were against him. You had lost hope completely that he would ever contact you or that you would ever see him again.

A week later you got your first call on the burner phone. The thought had crossed your mind that someone had stolen the phone and was trying to contact you for information on Bucky, but you would never miss an opportunity to speak to him if it really was him.

"Hello?" You answered cautiously.

"Doll?" It was him.

"Buck, oh my god, are you okay?" You tried to hide the lump in your throat from your oncoming tears.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I miss you so much," you answered.

"I miss you too, doll," he replied. "But listen, I have to go away for a while."

"What do you mean? For how long?"

You weren’t hiding your tears anymore.

"I don't know,” he sighed.

"Can I see you before you go?"

"No, baby. I'm already gone."

He knew that if he kept talking to you he might change his mind and go back to you. This was something he had to do, and until they found a way to fix him he had to leave. Zemo was able to change him back into the Winter Soldier like no time had passed, and he didn't trust himself to go back to you like this. He had to either be cured, or be killed.

"I have to go. I love you, sweetheart," he said.

You cried even harder. He'd never told you that he loves you before. You always felt that he did, but you knew he was too scared to say it in case he lost you. You worried that he was saying it now because he was leaving for good.

"I love you, Bucky."

Bucky hung up the small flip phone and handed it to Steve who had just entered the room. Steve tried not to eavesdrop from the hallway, but he was so curious. It's not his fault he has enhanced hearing (technically it is).

"She doesn't have anything to do with the soldier. She was helping me get better," Bucky quickly tried to clear your name in case Steve thought you had anything to do with Hydra. Steve could tell from the hallway without hearing your side of the conversation that you were someone good for him.

"Is that the girl from Bucharest?" Steve asked, pulling up a chair next to Bucky in the small room he had been provided. Bucky nodded.

"She seems important," he added.

"She is," Bucky replied.

"How'd you meet?" Steve asked.

"She lived across the hall."

Steve visibly deflated. “Was she there that day when I found you?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, giving Steve his answer. The guilt was eating Bucky alive. He knew how terrified you were and still are and he had to leave you there alone in your small apartment while they hunted for him like an animal.

"So, she knows about him?"

"Mhm."

"Why didn't you tell her what you're doing here?" Steve wondered.

"I don't want her to worry. If there's nothing they can do to fix me or if for some reason I don't wake up I don't want her to come looking for me. I want her to live a good life. She deserves that," Bucky replied.

"You think she's gonna just move on if you never come back?"

"She's better without me in the long run. I don't trust myself around her, and even if I didn’t hurt her I still don’t know how much longer I’ll live without being on ice anymore. She still has her whole life ahead of her," Bucky sighed.

"But what if it works, Buck? This is something good for you."

They have no idea how long the deconditioning will take if it even works. You could be married with children by the time he’s ready to see you again, and even if you weren’t would you even want to see him? You weren’t together very long, he’s not even sure if you were “together”, but he knows that he would do anything for you. You talked about your future together but did you mean it? Would you have really settled down with him?

He still can’t tell which thoughts are his and which are that voice in his head telling him he doesn’t deserve anything. But Steve’s right, he has to try.

"If she's still waiting for me when or if I'm free, I'll look for her."

He promised he’d look for her. He didn’t say he would talk to her.

Bucky and Steve then said their goodbyes before Bucky laid down in the chamber to be induced into a deep cryo sleep. He’s not religious, but he prayed up until he was fully unconscious that this would really work.

NEW YORK 2018

It had been almost two years since you heard from Bucky that day. After a year had passed you packed up your things and moved to Brooklyn. You didn’t have anything keeping you in Bucharest and you figured if Bucky ever came back he would come to New York since that's where the Avengers facility is and where Steve lives. You never heard any word of him the entire time. Not even on the news.

You made friends and were relatively happy. You had a roommate, but you never told her about Bucky. You didn't want to talk about him like he was in the past, so you didn't talk about him at all. You didn't know if he was dead or alive but you tried not to think about it too much. And if you did think about it you pictured him happy somewhere else. Somewhere where he can be himself in public without fear. Free of his own fear of others and the fear that he would hurt someone again.

One morning when you were running errands in the city the wind picked up immensely as if a storm rolled in out of nowhere. The sun was covered up by what you thought were clouds, but when you looked up you saw a large ship hovering over the buildings and getting lower. People around you screamed and ran. Cars crashed into each other and were left abandoned on the streets as the drivers tried to escape. In the chaos someone bumped into you knocking you down to your knees. A stranger came over and helped you to your feet. Your heart dropped to your guts when you saw who the stranger was. Tony Stark stood in front of you.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?" You asked shakily

"Not entirely sure yet. Wait a minute, you look familiar. Did we spend a beautiful night together years ago?"

"Definitely not," you scoffed.

"FRIDAY, who is this?" he asked.

An invisible robotic voice spoke, stating your name. “She was the woman in Romania with James Barnes.”

Suddenly, the spaceship meant nothing to you. Memories of Bucky flashed through your mind like a slideshow. You hadn’t allowed yourself to think about him this long and this deeply for months.

“Is he okay?” you managed to ask.

"Oh shit. Uh, okay, just go home and lock the doors alright?" he said, leaving to run towards the spaceship and its passengers.

You knew you should hurry, but all you could think about is when Bucky said the same thing that day he left, followed by the fact that Tony didn’t answer when you asked about him. You started to cry as you ran home. Debris and parts of buildings crashed around you as you ran. When you finally got home you locked the door and ran to your room locking it behind you just like Bucky had told you.

"Are you okay?" your roommate, Jess, asked from outside your door.

"Fine. Just don't go outside," you answered, not even bothering to try and cover your sobs.

Just then a loud crash, screams, and honking rattled the windows of their shitty apartment. Jess went to the living room window and opened the curtains, finally seeing the chaos down on the street.

"Holy shit. What's happening?" she asked.

"I don't know. Tony Stark told me to come here and lock the door."

"Tony Stark?!"

You didn't have the energy to answer. You laid there for hours trying to ignore the outside world and hoped it would manage to spare you. Eventually, you fell asleep on tear stained pillowcases.

The next day you woke up to silence. You left your room to go to the kitchen to get something to eat. Somehow you had slept the rest of the day and through the night and you were starving. Jess wasn't in the living room or the kitchen though. You checked her bedroom and the bathroom but she wasn't there either. It wasn't like Jess to just leave without saying anything or leaving a note, especially after the chaos yesterday.

You looked out the window onto the street and saw the rubble and crashed cars. It was strangely quiet. No cleanup teams or police or ambulances. Usually you would at least see people walking, but there was no one.

Confused, you returned to the living room to turn on the TV and were met with videos of crying people in the streets and a panicked news anchor asking them questions.

"She was just gone," the woman cried, "One minute she was there and then she wasn't."

The scene went back to an anchor at the studio. The headline at the bottom of the screen read "MILLIONS OF PEOPLE DISAPPEARING OUT OF THIN AIR." Could that be where Jess is? And what about your other friends? What about Bucky? Is he gone or is he just as confused as you are? Was he even alive to experience this?

Half of the entire universe was gone and somehow you were still here. You remembered your silent prayers yesterday hoping that nothing would happen to you, now you just wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. How unkind was the universe to give you the love of your life just to take him from you, only to find some sliver of happiness without him just for half the population to disappear and leave you behind to grieve. You don’t know where the other half of the world went, but you wished you were taken too.

A few weeks later you heard a knock at your door and had no idea who it could be. You found out that every one of your friends you made had been a victim of the Snap and you got laid off from your job because there weren’t enough people to keep the business running. You looked through the peephole on the door and were very surprised to see Steve Rogers standing on the other side of it.

"Hi. You were with Bucky in Romania?" He asked once you had opened the door. He knew he had the right apartment from looking up your records, but the only photos of you he’d seen were the blurry ones taken by civilians in 2016.

"Yes. You're Steve?" you asked. He nodded.

You let him into your apartment and offered him something to drink. He declined, but he was thankful. You sat in the chair next to the couch.

"Is this about Bucky?" you asked him.

He sat on the couch on the side closest to you. "He's gone."

"For how long?" you asked, assuming he had been gone after you never heard from him again.

"Since the Snap. He disappeared," Steve answered quietly.

"You mean he was alive this whole time?" Tears started to form in your eyes.

"Technically, yes. He was put in a cryo sleep for a long time until they could figure out how to get the Soldier out of his head."

"Did it work?" you asked. He nodded, tears were forming in his eyes too.

You sat for a moment just crying and staring at the coffee table in front of you. You didn’t know how to feel. You wished you could’ve seen him even if he wasn’t awake, or at least known that he was okay. Now that you know he was okay but that he was a victim of the Snap it was like losing him all over again.

"He would kill me if he knew I was here," Steve said, breaking the silence.

"Why?" you asked, wiping the tears and snot from your face with your sleeve. You briefly remembered you had company and should've just gotten a tissue but you couldn't bring it in yourself to care.

"He wanted you to move on and be happy without him. He thought he didn't deserve you," Steve answered.

"I love him more than anything," you said.

"He felt the same way."

NEW YORK 2023

Five years had passed since everyone disappeared. Steve reached out to you pretty often just to check on you and you were grateful for that. He’s all you had left even if he was just your dead ex-boyfriend's friend from childhood who felt bad for you. Steve even got you to come to a couple of his support meetings. You never spoke though, just listened. You started taking antidepressants and they helped a little, but not how you would like.

One day Steve told you that they had an idea on how to bring everyone back. You didn't get your hopes up. Even if they were able to bring everyone back, would Bucky even come back to you? You told Bucky every day that he deserved you, and in fact, he deserved more than you. He deserved the entire world. It broke your heart to know that it never sunk in.

You never knew why you loved Bucky so much or why you couldn't move on. You only had 6 months with him but you had planned a lifetime together. You saved his life. He had told you he wanted to get married. When everything settled down and you could actually do things he wanted to marry you with a real wedding like what he thought he would have when he got back from the war. You jokingly discussed baby names and bickered about how you would decorate your house. In your fantasies you had a cat. It had been almost 7 years since that day and you still remember it like it was yesterday.

Everything changed when you heard Jess call your name from the living room. You jumped out of bed, running into the door on your way out of your bedroom, and ran straight into Jess's arms almost knocking her over.

"What happened?" Jess asked.

"You disappeared. Half of the world disappeared for 5 years. I thought you died."

"Years!? It felt like seconds to me. I was here and then I wasn't and then I was here again."

You tried to fill her in on what had happened while she was gone and the state of the world. You couldn’t believe you were actually talking to her again. Once you calmed down from the excitement of seeing Jess again you realized something. You were actually talking to Jess again.

"What's wrong?" Jess asked, noticing your demeanor change.

"Bucky's alive."

"Who?"

NEW YORK 2024

It didn't take long for you to find out where Bucky was, but it took months for you to reach out. Before Steve left he gave you a man named Sam Wilson's phone number and said you could call him. He didn't say much about Bucky. Just that he was okay.

You kept up with his trial on the news, wanting to make sure he would be okay. Bucky was officially pardoned of all the Winter Soldier's crimes. You cried so hard that day you slept for hours afterwards and woke up dehydrated.

A couple times after that you saw Bucky with Sam on TV fighting together. He was in public fighting with the good guys. You'd never been so proud of someone in your life. The reporters were praising him instead of talking about his past.

For a while the news updates with grainy iPhone videos of Bucky fighting were enough. You knew he was alive and the Soldier was gone. That was all you could hope for him. But eventually you wanted more. You wanted to see Bucky, even if he didn't want you back. Even if he didn't even know you were there. You just wanted to see him with your own eyes, to know for sure that he was alright.

You finally decided to call Sam.

"Hello?" he answered.

You introduced yourself. “Steve gave me your phone number,” you added.

"Oh, right! I thought you'd call sooner," he replied.

"Been scared," you answered honestly. "Um, how is Bucky?"

"He's alright. Grumpy as ever and a pain in my ass but he's alright."

You giggled, knowing how stubborn Bucky could be. He told you how he used to be a charming ladies' man back in the day but that that part of him died. You never believed that it died, it was just hidden under the grumpy old man exterior.

"Do you think maybe I could see him? If he doesn't wanna talk to me that's okay. I just want to see him for myself and then I'll leave him alone."

"I'll tell you what, this weekend my family is having a party and Bucky will be there. If you can get down to Louisiana you're welcome to stay at my sister's place. And if it doesn't go well, I'll get you a hotel and a flight back myself. Sound good?" Sam suggested.

"Okay. Sounds good."

It did not sound good, but this was your chance to see him so you had to take it. If it went poorly you didn’t know if you could handle it, but you had to try. So Sam texted you the address and the details and you booked a flight.

You had no idea what to expect. You didn't know if he would be happy to see you or if he would just be reminded of a terrible time in his life and would want nothing to do with you. What if he didn't even remember you? Did the cure of his trigger words erase his memories of when he was affected by them? Either way you were going to go. Even if you had to introduce yourself to him as if you had never met. Even if you had to just watch him from the shadows across from a crowded room.

That weekend you flew to Louisiana. You texted Sam as soon as you landed. He had offered to come pick you up but you refused. You didn't mind taking an Uber and you didn't want to pull him away from his family. Besides, you preferred to show up in secret in case you decided you didn't want to see Bucky. If you got there and changed your mind, you could just leave.

It was only about a 30 minute drive from the airport, and with each passing minute you got more nervous. You hadn’t seen Bucky in 8 years. If he was in cryo sleep and then snapped away he'd only been away from you for a fraction of that. But, you had no idea what he's been through.

When the car pulled into the driveway Sam was there waiting for you. He helped you carry your luggage inside without being detected. You noticed Bucky's backpack on the floor by the couch, the same one he took with him when he left. Sam noticed you staring at it.

"He's right outside. I think my nephews are harassing him," he joked.

You smiled. Through all of this chaos you realized that Bucky was at a party. He's in public around people he's comfortable with and he's hanging out with children. You remembered when Bucky told you he was scared of having kids in case he wasn't a good father. He didn't want to turn back and hurt them. You started to cry.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm just overwhelmed."

"I understand. He's there when you're ready," Sam replied. He headed outside to rejoin the party, leaving you to come out when you felt ready.

At this point, if you didn't go out right now you weren’t sure if you ever would, so you followed Sam out onto the back porch and down the steps. You expected to see a scruffy long haired grumpy man like how you remembered him, but were frozen in your steps when you saw him with short hair and a recently shaved beard. He was smiling and laughing with the kids around him checking out his metal arm. You wished you took a photo so you could look at it forever.

Bucky stilled when he looked over and saw you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. For all you knew he could be seconds away from running for the hills so he didn’t have to talk to you. The kids kept pestering him but he couldn't hear anything. All he saw was you. Finally, the kids turned around to see what had caught his attention.

"Who's that?" One of the kids asked.

"That's my girl," Bucky smiled. He ran over to you and picked you up in his arms lifting your feet off the ground. He was squeezing you so hard you were afraid you would lose your breath. Obviously you don’t have super soldier strength, but you hoped you were squeezing him just as hard.

"You're here!" he spoke through tears, pulling back from the hug just enough so that he could see your face.

You moved your hands to his cheeks and wiped his tears. You then ran your fingers through his new haircut and smiled at him.

"I missed you so much, Buck," you said, struggling to talk through your own tears.

"I thought you wouldn't want me anymore. It's been so long for you, I thought you would've moved on," he replied. "That's why I didn't go to you."

Steve had told him where you were before he left. He thought about looking for you, he really did, but he kept stopping himself and Steve wasn't there to harass him about it. So for months he lived in his new apartment knowing he was in the same city as you and not having the strength to reach out.

"I never went a day without thinking about you. I thought maybe you wouldn't remember me or you wouldn't want me anymore because I remind you of your past or something."

"Sweetheart, you're the best thing about my past," he told you.

He pulled you in for your first kiss together in 8 years. It felt the same as before, like no time had passed, except this time they were in public and he was surrounded by people who care about him. This time he wasn't worried about hurting you.

"You look different," he said, holding your face in his hands.

"Like how?"

"Like older."

"Not as old as you," you teased.

"That's true," he laughed.

"Your arm's different," you pointed out. You held up his metal hand and ran your fingers over it feeling the grooves. You didn't know if he could feel it with this new arm since he couldn’t with the last one, but you did it anyway. He could feel it.

"They made it for me in Wakanda," he answered, smiling like an idiot.

"It's beautiful."

You put his arm down but still held onto it during the party like you were scared he wouldn't be there anymore if you let go. He loved that you were never scared of it. You always treated it like it was just part of him. You held his left hand just as much as you held his right, possibly even more, though you claimed that was because you have sweaty hands and the metal was cool on your palms.

Bucky introduced you to Sam's family and you didn't leave his side the whole night. Not that Bucky minded though, he was doing the same thing to you. He’s not sure he’ll have the capability to ever let you go. In fact, he’s already planning on how he’s gonna ask you to move into his apartment when you get back to the city.

Once the night settled down and everyone that didn’t live there left you sat across from each other at a picnic table eating some leftovers from the party. You were watching the sunset, but Bucky couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"Doll?" He said.

"Hm?" you answered, turning to face him.

"I'm gonna marry you."

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