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#billy lives au
harcove · 2 years
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Billy x ! Fem reader
(basically just fluff)
Reader falling asleep during the car ride home and Billy carrying them into the house
Reader and Billy sleep in the same bed/room and Reader is afraid of the dark so they insist on keeping a night light on all night which annoys Billy who prefers complete darkness to sleep so Billy's head rested on the reader's chest <33
a/n: I decided to do that second one cause bruh that's cute asf and I used a nightlight for a while- I used to have to sleep with my tv on, but now it has to be pitch black lmao. I think I will also write that other one cause I did something similar with Billy and my oc (ya... i have an oc but lmao) and love it too! enjoy cutie!
Pairing: Billy x Reader
Length: 1.3k
Warnings: Mention of trauma, maybe slight PTSD on readers end?, Kind of Billy too, a fluffy Billy
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Personal Pillow - B.H.
"Seriously?"
Billy propped his head up on his arm. He looked at you with flat eyes, hardly amused by what you'd just said to him.
It was a bit funny to see him laying in your bed beside you; soft and fluffy light coloured blanket covering the two of you- one of your stuffed animals (a teddy bear with a pink ribbon around) under one of his arms; it looked so odd to see someone like Billy Hargrove lying there, looking like this. But it felt right to have him there with you.
"Yes," you say, turning to slip out of your bed in order to turn off the rooms light only to be stopped by warm hands grabbing you by the middle of your stomach, pulling you roughly into his front.
"What are you, like, five?"
He speaks into your ear like he's trying to seduce you, but his words are mocking, making fun. It makes you pout, only further making you look like a little girl, only making him squeeze you closer with a smirk on his beautiful face.
"See, you even look like you're five right now," Billy pinches your cheek closest to him, "my little baby."
You like how he calls you baby. But you don't like why he's doing it.
Maybe you didn't like the dark, it was hard for you to sleep at night when it was pitch black. And at your age, it maybe seemed a bit much. Like something you should have grown out of long ago.
But with the oddities that had been happening in Hawkins over the past year, the darkness had become something that scared you; things that shouldn't exist or rumours of the happenings around town are what hid in the corners of your room, darkness that couldn't be tamed.
The thing that had attacked Billy was something that haunted your mind the most. You wondered how come it had to affect you so badly.
And yet Billy could sleep perfectly fine in the dark. In fact, he preferred to sleep with it dark, pitch black. Most people older than the age of ten did.
So all it did was make you feel embarrassed as you forcefully pulled yourself away from his tight grasp; perhaps he realized you were a bit upset and that's why he let you go, or the more likely reason was that he hadn't actually expected you to pull away from him.
"Come on doll," he sighed, watching you walk to the light in your room and hesitating. Your nightlight was on already, so you had nothing to fear, logically you knew that even in the dark. But the illogical parts of your brain demanded to be heard.
You didn't give him a response as you shut the light off and quickly walked back to your bed, the nightlight illuminating your path as you jumped back into the bed.
Back turned to him, you refuse to acknowledge him. But you feel embarrassed, and slightly bad.
This was supposed to be enjoyable. You were lucky enough that your parents liked Billy, that your parents trusted you in your room, and trusted you to have sleepovers with him. They were privy to the knowledge that at the very least his father and him had a bad relationship, and were fine with him being here.
And granted, it had been enjoyable till this point.
He had come over and spent most of the time in your room with you, talking and messing around (mainly on his part; he just loved to get under your sin sometimes- always says that you have the cutest angry face,) at one point you even sat in the living room and watched a movie while your parents went to their room to give you two the space. Dinner had been fun as Billy got along really well with your father, who loved Billy's Camaro.
It had been good. Fun. You loved him, you loved him being here.
But now you felt bad, embarrassed.
You reached your hand over to flip the tiny nightlight beside your bed off. You'd swallow your fear because Billy was the guest and you wanted him to be comfortable (and you were embarrassed enough as it was; you felt like a little child). You could hack it for the night you supposed.
But the moment your fingers touched the switch, they were pulled away as Billy's hands grabbed your arm and dragged it back down, in the process dragging you away from the edge of the bed that you'd situated yourself on, pulling your frame into himself. He wouldn't let you move an inch.
"Leave it."
Your eyebrows furrowed and you tried to twist your body in order to look at him, but his arms were like vices and he only squeezed tighter, making it impossible to turn much less wiggle too much.
It takes you a few moments to realize he's referring to the nightlight you had on. He's telling you to just leave it on. And you can't figure out why. You were so sure he would insist it be turned off, thus why you didn't argue back much, but instead he was stopping you.
For Billy, it's a matter of understanding- and not having you be cross with him all night, inching yourself away from him when all he wants is to be pressed against you. He would rather it be pitch black, but he would have to be blind to not realize that the darkness in Hawkins had become one of the things you feared most. The metaphorical darkness that was a world, an upside down one, one that was bleeding into the right one. The upright one.
For Billy, darkness was familiar. He had been shrouded in the dark in most aspects of life and he had found it easy to navigate; you were (as silly as it sounded; trust him, he knows-) a brightness in that darkness. He didn't need to feel scared of the darkness at any point if you were there.
And darkness hid the things he didn't want (nor need- in his opinion) to see.
"Are you... Sure?"
"If I wasn't fuckin' sure I wouldn't have said it, would I?"
It was a rhetorical question.
Billy finally let you turn your body towards him, loosening his arms on you just a bit in order to allow you to turn your body. His intention- aside from enjoying the ability to feel the front of your body pressed against his own and see your face up close- was to bury his face into your chest, and it actually wasn't a sexual thing in that moment.
He shimmies his body down a bit; it's a funny feeling and a funny sight. The word 'shimmy' doesn't sound like a word you would use in relation to Billy Hargrove, but it's what he's doing. It tickles a bit as his body rubs against your own. If you weren't tired, you might've felt different about it. But at this point, you only smiled softly.
When he positions himself properly to press his head against your chest, he lets out a moan; god he loves the feeling of your chest, your body, skin, everything. The heat you radiate against him makes him melt (and Billy Hargrove never melts.) He's lucky he enjoys heat, because the way he's pressed against you under the blanket is radiating heat, your body temperatures mixing.
He knows in a few hours you are going to be trying to push him away. But he's not letting it happen.
With his face pressed into your chest, it's dark, almost like there isn't a nightlight on. He's fine with that. He's perfectly fine with that.
"Might have to take this pillow home with me."
He is referring to you, and it makes you squeeze his shoulders.
You let him stay there, because you know he's using your chest to block out the light in your room. And you feel the way he's loosened his muscles pressed against you, comfortable. Safe even. And that's all you want for him. You don't need to be so scared with him there pressed into you. 
Maybe the nightlight isn't so bad, Billy thinks, if it means he can use your chest as a pillow and a blockade for the light.
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Left Behind
For the @harringrove-flip-reverse-it prompt, angst becomes fluff (sort of in this case): Left Behind
Most people would probably be scared shitless if they woke up in the underground hellscape that was the aptly named upside down. Red sky with lightning and thunder sounding constantly? All kinds of hellish creatures screeching in the distance, ready to tear you to shreds? Tentacles that got way too handsy sometimes? Yeah. Terrifying. But not to Billy Hargrove.
Sure, it took some getting used to. Especially since the last thing he remembered was dying in the middle of a raging fire. But with time, he got used to his new weird surroundings. It was actually pretty sweet compared to the shit he'd been dealing with since moving to Hawkins. He could do whatever he wanted without worrying about steeping on his old man's toes. Yeah, sure, he had to hunt down these nasty ass demon bats things for food, but for the first time in his whole life, Billy felt like he could actually breathe.
Wherever he was acted as a dark mirror to the town above him. Going house to house, Billy found himself near the edge of town out of reach from most of the creatures that resided in this dimension at the largest house in Hawkins. Going inside revealed it was Steve fucking Harrington's house. Billy almost laughed at the thought as he carved himself a space in the house. Claiming the ugly checkerboard room that apparently belonged to the King of Hawkins himself as his own, Billy was set. This place was great. Well, except for one thing.
As the only person seemingly stuck in this hellhole, Billy found himself incredibly lonely. You could only read so many books and listen to so much music before you realized his much you missed doing this kind of thing of with someone else. Billy had been keeping track of the time since he woke up. Just over nine months since he'd died and gone to Hell. Whether or not it was actual Hell, he still wasn't sure. Maybe he'd just been left behind by the whole universe at this point. But it was fine. Just fine.
Day two hundred and eighty-one had started out like most of his days did. Rolling out of Harrington's ugly bedsheets and grabbing the mom's fluffy pink bathrobe to wear. If there was one good thing about no one being around, it was that there was no one around to judge him for not changing out of his pajamas. Going down to the kitchen, Billy started a small fire to boil the gross water that came out of the sink. Digging through the cabinets, Billy frowned as he pulled out the last baggie of coffee. Damn it, that meant he'd actually have to venture out to town for a supply run. The teen winced as he ran a hand along the scar he earned a few weeks back from one of the bats that latched onto the side of his stomach. Still, he'd rather fight those things again than go without his caffeine fix.
Billy grabbed the axe he'd pilfered from the garden shed out back and suited up in his protective gear (winter clothes to cover up any bare skin) before venturing out into the dangerous outside. Billy swung the axe around as he hummed to himself. It might have just been his mind slowly going crazy but he could've sworn he heard music in the distance the day before.
'Be running your that road...be running....damn it, what was that next line?' Billy thought to himself, annoyed when he heard the sounds of loud shrieks. Instinctively, Billy raised his axe as he watched a herd of the demon bats fly past him overhead. The boy's head turned as he watched the bats completely ignore him, instead flying straight towards the edge of the nearby lake. He raised an eyebrow. They seemed to be targeting something. The blonde hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow them to whatever their target was.
Billy jogged towards Lovers Lake and froze when he heard a very distinct human voice screaming out in pain. Billy stood in shock. Did someone else get pulled down here? Adrenaline took over. Billy ran over to the figure the bats had pinned down, and he let out an attempt at an intimidating roar. Swinging the axe at the creature's, he ignored the beasts flying around him as he chopped bat after bat into pieces. Billy made his way through the swarm until he was able to see the person he just rescued, staring up at him with a look of shock. Billy was just as confused by the familiar face laid out before him.
"Harrington?"
"Hargrove?"
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stranger-rants · 2 years
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Billy gaining confidence after becoming chronically ill/disabled by The Mindflayer is something I would love to see more of to be honest. Sure, there’s the period where he has to come to terms with everything but that could change. Like, he’s got a cane and he’s happy to use it either for walking or whacking anyone who looks at him sideways upside the head. If anyone bitches at him for taking a handicap parking spot despite having the proper signage in his car he just lifts up his shirt and they can gaze upon the glory of the scars he earned. Same if someone tells him to move on public transport. Billy deciding not to take anyone’s shit for having needs and learning that he deserves to take up space no matter how much of a burden he would be made to feel by his dad for surviving is something special to me.
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whenyouwishuponastar7 · 2 months
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pledging my time chapter two is up! Thought I'd give it its own tiny post cause the other one is so long.
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theladycarpathia · 2 years
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“They’ll be okay,” Eddie says, eyeing the spiked bat nervously as though Billy might take it to his kneecaps. He’s definitely considered it and he knows that Henderson has been tattling about the plate incident.
“‘I wasn’t worried,” Billy grunts, even though it’s a lie. Every part of him tensed up the second Max and Steve left his sight.
“Sure,” Eddie says slowly, tapping his fingers against his knees. There’s some sort of permanently jittery air about him, some manic energy that makes it impossible to sit still. Billy sighs and tips his head back against the glass, thinking that maybe he can catch a quick cat nap while they wait. No one’s really had any sleep since Vecna’s first attack and they’re all running on caffeine and the memory of sleep.
Billy feels as though he hasn’t slept in a year. Does being dead count as sleep? 
“Hey,” Eddie whispers and nudges Billy’s elbow with his own, forcing Billy to open his eyes. “Uhhh. Given that we’re about to head into hell itself and willingly put ourselves up as bait to a swarm of demonic bats controlled by an all seeing villain, I think that maybe we should air some shit out.”
Billy twists his head to get a good look at Munson’s tense face. Ah, fuck.
“I get the feeling that you don’t like me and that might be a problem if you have to watch my back during all this,” Eddie babbles on, keeping an eye on Lucas and Chrissy who are talking quietly to each other near the front of the RV, Henderson pacing up and down. Chrissy is curled up in a chair, still wearing her Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt, anxiously ripping the label off a water bottle. Max had been adamant about baiting Vecna, arguing that her music and Lucas would all be enough to keep her alive. The decision weighs heavily on Chrissy - also hunted, also haunted -  but her part is no less risky. She’ll have to actually step into the Upside Down to act as a distraction. There’s still a chance Vecna could get her there but she also won’t be talked out of it.
“It’s fine,” Billy says, turning his head back and leaning it against the window. His head is thumping and everything still feels like too much after the Upside down. Everything is too bright and too raw. Sunlight feels too hot on his skin, water is like glass down his throat. He wonders sometimes if he forgot how to be human. But he knows that’s bullshit. He forgot how to do that long before the Mind Flayer. “We don’t have a problem.”
“I kind of get the feeling that you do,” Eddie says, looking like he really regrets this conversation. They never spoke during their brief shared time at Hawkins High to Billy’s knowledge. There’s probably a good reason for it. “Which is fine, I get it. I would too if…it doesn’t matter. I’m just saying that we’re about to go into some mega shit and you and I have a similar interest in this mission going well.” His eyes flick to Chrissy. Ah. By ‘similar interests’ he means keeping both redheads alive and away from Vecna. 
“Look, even if I did have a problem, I wouldn’t let it get in the way of watching your back,” Billy says sharply. “Because the minute I do, the bats go back to Vecna and attack Wheeler’s group before they have a chance to take him out. Which kind of puts my sister in a less-than-alive position, okay?”
“Good,” Eddie says hesitantly. “Just checking.” He slumps back in his seat and begins to pick black nail polish off his fingernails.
Ugh. This is why Billy doesn’t do this kind of crap.
“I didn’t…totally like you in the Upside Down. If that’s what you were picking up on.” Eddie’s head jerks up, like a puppy presented with a bone. 
“Is this down to the whole not exactly jumping in feet first to save Harrington kind of thing?” And Billy tightens his grip around Steve’s nailed bat.
“I’m not wild about it,” he says through gritted teeth. Then again, he’s not wild about Wheeler diving in head first either or her suddenly forgetting her long term boyfriend. But hey, that’s actually kind of a habit for her, right?
“Yeah, so having guts isn’t exactly my strong point,” Eddie says sheepishly. “I didn’t really expect this whole end of the world thing to have the clause of a ragtag group of losers being the only thing between Hawkins and total destruction, you know? There should be guns and tanks and big government agencies coming in for this thing. Not a bunch of kids in a RV.”
Billy’s grip loosens ever so slightly.
“Yeah, well,” he says gruffly. “I’m not what you’d call a hero either.”
“No?”
“Well, last time I was a possessed vessel for Vecna’s mind controlled, bleach chugging, murdering army so….” Billy shrugs and enjoys the look on Eddie’s face. He chuckles and tips his head back. “I’m guessing they missed that bit out.”
“Yeah, a bit,” Eddie says, letting out a long, slow breath. “I mean, I just used to think you died in the fire at Starcourt, you know? Like Heather and David and everyone else. There was an assembly about it. But I’m guessing…”
“None of them ever actually died at Starcourt,” Billy says, tapping the end of the bat on the floor. He needs something else to focus on, other than Eddie’s open face. He doesn’t want to talk about last year, not to Max, not to anyone. But Eddie wasn’t there. Somehow that feels easier. “They were all used as part of the monster’s body. They were just dissolved, all of them. Everyone but me.”
“But you still died,” Eddie says gingerly. Billy sucks in a breath, unable to stop it all flooding back to him. It comes in waves: the light over Starcourt, the stench of acid and blood, hearing the jagged rasp of his own breath. Eleven, bruised but alive. Max begging for him to get up. Only having enough strength to say two words to her.
“Yeah,” Billy says quietly. 
“I’ve got debts to pay back,” he admits. “To Steve, to Lucas. Max, especially. And Eleven, if I ever see her again. And I’ve got my own issues with that fucker in my head, you know? For a week, I was under his control. I didn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. My body wasn’t my own. Dying was almost easier.” Something in Eddie’s face shifts, his jaw moving as he searches for the right words.
“I don’t want anyone to die this time,” and Billy doesn’t even have to look to know that he means Chrissy. It’s too easy to catch the way his eyes always drift to Chrissy, finding her as easily as the north star. 
Billy knows that feeling all too well. His star just vanished, bloodied and bandaged, into the Warzone.
“Me either,” Billy says. He has enough red in his ledger. It’s time to make some of it clean again. He can’t do much about Wheeler’s group - he doesn’t like it but they’re the three most capable of surviving. He half wishes he could go with Max, unhappy with leaving her with only Lucas and Erica to look out for her. But they’re in Hawkins for real, and least likely to need physical protection. He only has control over looking out for Munson, Henderson and Chrissy. And yeah, Henderson is annoying as shit and Munson’s not much better but he’s not going to let anyone die. Not again. 
He sees Heather’s face in his dreams. Of all the deaths he has on his conscience, her’s is the worst. The first he took down with him.
“It’s a bat shit crazy plan,” Eddie mutters, burying his face in his hands. “Absolutely insane.”
“Pretty standard for this group,” Billy says easily. Clearly rising from the dead in an alternate dimension makes him better equipped to deal with this than Munson. “But maybe it’s crazy enough to work?”
They share a look. They might still come out on top. But half their party is missing and apparently out of contact and their plan involves Max being used as bait, sending Steve and the others into the Creel house and Billy watching out for a cheerleader and two Hellfire dorks as they distract a bunch of ravenous demon bats.
Yeah. This should work great.
“Look,” Eddie says again, looking as though he found some more nerve from their sudden camaraderie. “If you think there’s anything between me and Steve, you’re wrong…” Billy’s whole body jerks and he whips his head to the front. But Lucas and the others haven’t heard, Henderson loudly complaining about the time.
“Shut the fuck up,” Billy says in a low voice, settling his eyes on Eddie. His breath catches in his throat, even though he knows that Neil is long gone, that his death has given him an unexpected clean slate. But old habits die hard and Billy can still feel the ghost of knuckles colliding with his cheek. “You don’t know what you’re talking about so don’t fucking bring it up again, okay?”
Eddie pales, eyes drawn back to the bat in Billy’s hands. 
“I won’t,” he says hurriedly. “I wouldn’t say anything, I swear. I just…thought you should know.” Mollified, Billy leans back in his seat. 
“Yeah,” he says, shortly. “Thanks.”
Munson knows. He knows. And Billy suspects that the band chick, Robin, isn’t far behind. And Max…
Max is better at keeping secrets these days. But Billy’s secret is no longer just his and it’s sliding like sand from between his fingers. He’s being too obvious - unable to keep his eyes from Steve’s bare chest, his fingers too slow to slip away from Steve’s after pulling him up, wiping blood from the cut on Steve’s face. Hell, it was Steve’s presence in the Upside down that woke him after all.
Steve can’t know. Billy will do everything he can to keep Steve safe, and the rest of the party alive and that’s all. He can never know. 
“Hey,” Billy says, suddenly feeling like a dick. Which he is but he’s trying not to be. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to…”
But before he can finish, the door swings open and the rest of the group pile in, clutching brown paper bags and wearing identical panicked expressions. 
“We gotta go,” Steve says, dumping his bag down into Dustin’s arms and flinging a black jacket at Eddie. He catches Billy's eye ever so briefly before he’s hauling himself into the front seat and Max is slamming the door shut.
“Your old friends are here,” Erica says pointedly and Chrissy goes white. 
“Jason too?” she asks. Steve shouts at them all to sit down and Billy tries not to feel sick as Wheeler takes the passenger seat next to him. He knows that he can’t be up front - if Jason and his ilk are already spouting shit about satanic cults, then the reappearance of a definitely dead former classmate would send them into a frenzy. They’ll think Eddie’s a necromancer, on top of hypnotizing Chrissy into joining them.
But she takes her place like it’s always going to be her’s. 
“Jason too,” Erica says as the RV takes off in a lurch and they’re hurtling out of the parking lot and away from Warzone. Billy lifts the curtain just in time to get a glimpse of those very familiar green, white and orange jackets bundle out of the front door. Billy gets a look at Jason’s furious face before they’re gone and speeding back towards Hawkins.
“That was close,” Max sighs, even though the worst part of the mission is still to come. 
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees and finally looks at the material in his arms. “Hey, Hargrove, I think this one is for you.” He offers Billy a denim jacket, the material soft under Billy’s fingers. It looks like the one he’d worn Junior year, the cuffs already rolled up, a red bandanna shoved into one of the pockets. Something swoops unpleasantly in Billy’s stomach.
“Nice of Harrington,” Eddie comments and Billy rubs a finger across the collar.
“Yeah,” he mumbles and shrugs it on over his bloodied white tee. It fits perfectly and he pretends not to see Steve’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.
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straykidsnerd255 · 2 years
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Fourth of July
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader
Genre: Angst (SORRY)
Song: Fourth of July- Sufjan Stevens
Warning: Blood, gore, death, reader doesn’t understand she is dying, choking on blood, Billy sobbing, SEASON 3 SPOILERS, Billy lives AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Billy gets possessed by the Mind Flayer and Y/n sacrifices herself so that Billy can continue living.
Word Count:1936
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“It’s not my fault. It's not my fault. It's not my fault Max. I promise you, it's not my fault.”
 “What’s not your fault Billy?” 
“I’ve done things Max, really bad things. I didn’t mean to. HE made me do it.” 
“Who made you do it?”
“I don’t know, it's like a shadow. Like a giant shadow. Please, Max.”
“What did he make you do?”
“It’s not my fault, okay? Max, please. Please, believe me, Max, it's not my fault. I tried to stop him, okay? I did. *sniffle* Please believe me, Max. Please believe me.”
“Billy, it’s gonna be okay.”
“Max, please.”
“It’s gonna be okay. We want to help you. We want to help you. You just have to talk to us, okay? You have to talk to us. I believe you, Billy. We’ll figure it out together, okay? I need you to trust me. Please.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Everything went downhill. The kids were scared shitless when the Mind Flayer used Billy to break free of the sauna and chase after them. Y/n had gotten a call from Joyce about what was happening and Y/n raced to the mall. “Billy, please don’t do anything stupid! I beg you.” Y/n whispered as tears filled her eyes. She sped down the road before pulling up to the mall. She didn’t even bother turning her car off as she jumped from the driver's seat and raced into the mall. She spun around looking for the kids, Steve, anybody. She found them but it was something she was not expecting to see.
The monster that stood before he was huge. It swung its massive leg around and knocked into the pillars that held the floor above them up. The sound of cracking and crumbling could be heard and Y/n began running as the part that had been hit, crumbled to the ground. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon of some kind. However, she turned to look and see if it had stopped, only for a piece of the building to hit something just right that it smacked into her temple knocking her down and causing her to hit her head. 
Drip. Drip. Y/n opened her eyes and quickly stood where she laid. She spun around as the sound of something dripping on the ground surrounded her. Blood slowly fell down the side of her head as she watched her husband, Steve, Nancy, and the others fending off the monstrous entity in the mall. She ran her fingers through her hair that had been matted with blood and sweat. She knew something was off with her husband when he refused to go to the pool with her that afternoon. She looked around for anything that might give her a clue as to why her husband was acting like this but she couldn’t see or find anything. Now, she was standing in Star-court mall as Eleven and the others fought off a massive looking flesh monster. 
“You need to leave Y/n! Its not safe!”
El’s voice sounded so close but Y/n could see her fighting off Billy and trying to keep him at bay. Y/n could feel her throat close off as she tried to adjust to what was happening. She swallowed and found her throat dry and it hurt to swallow. She heard a loud noise and looked up to see Mike and the others throwing fireworks at the creature. She watched as it caught one in its mouth. It exploded causing the creature to back away and scream in pain. Y/n turned when she heard her husband’s cry of pain. “No.” She whispered. El turned her head to see Y/n still standing there. “What are you doing?!” She screamed. Y/n ignored her and darted around the falling ledges as the creature smashed its body against it. 
Y/n watched as her husband held Eleven against the ground before everything stopped. “Seven feet.” Y/n froze when she heard Eleven say that. ‘How did she know that? Billy told no one else than me and Max about that day.’ Y/n thought. Billy froze above her. Fireworks exploded above them as the rest of the team continued their assault on the massive Mind Flayer. The roar echoing around the building. Y/n stepped closer to hear what Eleven was saying to Billy. Her heart was not prepared for what that would entail.
“You told her. The wave was 7 feet. You ran to her. On the beach. There were seagulls. She wore a hat with a blue ribbon, a long dress with a blue and red flower, yellow sandals covered in sand. She was pretty. Billy’s eyes closed as his eyes filled with tears. Y/n was far enough away that she couldn’t see him crying but she KNEW he had tears in his eyes. Because she did. “She was really pretty. And you; you were happy.” Y/n watched Eleven place her hand on her husband's face and watched as Billy slowly came out of the possession. “WE’RE OUT!” Y/n could hear the others screaming in panic as they were running low on fireworks to keep the monster at bay. 
Y/n felt her heart race as the creature turned towards Billy and Eleven. Its sights were set on Eleven. It was set on killing her. To rip her apart. Billy slowly stood up and watched the creature before putting his arms up to stop the beast from attacking El. Y/n jumped and a scream left her mouth. She watched as the Mind Flayer pierced Billy’s sides with its tentacle-like arms. His arms were held out to the side as he screamed in their creatures face. He looked almost psycho in the light, the black blood staining his teeth. Y/n couldn’t face her life without her husband. She had helped him so much and he had helped her. She felt her heart racing in her chest. She knew what she had to do. 
The creature’s mouth opened and what looked like a tongue appeared. Its sharp teeth at the end aimed straight for her husband's chest to kill him. She narrowed her eyes and darted forward. Jumping over fallen pieces of the wall and supports. “Y/n don’t!” Billy turned his head just in time to see Y/n use herself as a shield to block the mind flayer’s attack. “DUSTIN SHUT THE GATE NOW!” Lucas screamed into the walkie talkie. Eleven screamed in pure anguish as Y/n was stabbed by the Mind Flayer, however, she held her ground and stared the creature down before it pulled its weapon from her.
“The evil it spread like a 
fever ahead
It was night when you died,
my firefly”
Y/n collapsed to the ground and once Billy was released, he crawled to her. “W-why would do that?!” He screamed, well, tried to scream. Y/n looked up at him and gave him a shaky smile. Y/n opened her mouth to speak but blood spilled from her lips as she coughed. Billy held her close to his chest as he cried. “Why did you do that?!” He sobbed loudly. Steve and the others continued to distract the Mind Flayer before it lost balance and fell to the ground; it was dead.
The dust cloud swirled around everyone. Billy was still looking down at his wife begging her with his eyes. He sniffled and tried to keep his tears at bay but he couldn’t. Not when his wife was laying in his arms dying. “I’m n-not dying, B-Billy.” You stuttered as your body started shutting down. She tried to sit up only to scream in pain. Billy wrapped his arms around her and finally, the walls he had put up, came crashing to the ground as he let a loud sob leave his lips. His tears ran down his face like a waterfall. They fell onto her face as he begged and begged her to stay with him. 
Y/n’s hand reached up to Billy's face and pressed against his face. He pressed a hand to hers and held it tightly. “Please don’t leave me. You and Max are all I have left.” Billy whimpered, pressing kisses to the palm of her hand. His tears were mixed with blood, dust, and the black blood from the Mind Flayer. “You will still see me.” She whispered. Billy felt his whole world shattering before his eyes. He tried his best to keep her eyes open, but it wasn’t long before her eyes fell shut and she took her last breath. Billy held her body against his chest as he sobbed loudly. “WHY!!!” He screamed as Joyce, Dustin and Erica ran into the building. “Y/n?” Dustin whispered as he saw his sister dead in Billy’s arms. 
“Did you get enough love, my little dove? 
Why do you cry?”
And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best
Though it never felt right
My little Versailles”
Billy would never be the same after that night. He had lost his entire world in one night. He held her body as it grew colder and colder. The sound of sirens could be heard and Billy just screamed. Begged whatever god was out there to bring Y/n back. Max ran to her brother and dropped to her knees. She had just lost her sister in law and tears were pouring from her eyes. “This is all my fault. She’s dead because of me.” Billy whimpered out and he buried his face in Y/n’s shoulder. Max looked up at her brother helplessly before pulling both him and Y/n’s body to hers. “It’s not your fault Billy. If anything, it's the Mind Flayers' fault.” She tried in hopes that it would help Billy a little bit. It didn’t. Billy shook his head and sobbed. “Why was she the one to be taken Max. It should have been me. Not her.” He cried into Y/n’s hair and he held tightly to her dead body. 
“Life won’t be the same with her gone now.” Billy felt his bottom lip wobble as the paramedic lifted her body from his arms and carried her corpse to the ambulance. Max ran to her brother and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him from behind. Billy placed his hands on her arms and cried. “I’m gonna miss her, Billy.” Max whispered so softly that Billy almost missed what she said. A single tear rolled down his face as he turned to face his little sister. He lifted his hands to her face to check for any wound that needed treatment before pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m gonna miss her too, kid.” Billy whispered. The two siblings just sat there, trying to come to terms that the person they both loved was gone. “I’m gonna miss you Y/n.” Billy whispered softly. 
A soft breeze blew through and ruffled both his and Max’s hair. They both looked up to see a figure standing a little bit away from the mall. Billy kept his eyes on the figure before it disappeared in a wisp of air. He could feel a light feeling move through his chest before he turned to Max. She looked at him and Billy knew she felt the same thing. As Billy was being checked and bandaged up, a voice could be heard, but it was only Billy and Max that heard the voice. 
“And I’m sorry I left, But it was for the best.”
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Billy lives AU where Billy was also taken by the Russians after Starcourt.
He managed to live by the akin of his teeth. Part of his consciousness ripped off a chunk from the mindflayer, just a small bit, just enough to keep his body alive when it shouldn’t be. His injuries healed, slowly, but more interestingly (at least to the Russians) his body adapted to the chemicals the mindflayer had forced it to consume.
They try to study those effects, as well as the effects having part of a hive mind trapped inside of a foreign body. Physically Billy gained accelerated healing, an extreme tolerance for acids and most toxins, as well as a few psychic abilities that he has little to no control over.
These tests however render Billy all but feral. Billy who was already so accustomed to being abused and tormented, now with the subtle influence of the mindflayer still left (not enough to control him, just enough to constantly whisper to him, to tempt him).
He's their most difficult subject by far. He can't be approached without sedation, something they learned early on, but even sedation doesn't last long enough to be fully viable. He has caused more damage to their crew and other subjects than anything else and as a result they keep him isolated as often as possible.
When Joyce and Murray break Hop out, they find Billy too, although they don't immediately recognize him. (The physical effects of everything he's been through have changed him a little. His hands and mouth are black, with black veins visble on his neck and forearms, his head is buzzed, and not to mention the Hannibal Lector get up they keep him in. His eyes are the same though, and that's what Joyce recognizes)
Its Joyce's idea to take him with, and he's pretty well drugged up when they grab him so he doesn't fight the way he ordinarily would.
The problem is from there, once he perks up, he's viscous. He fights like his life is on the line, and he's much stronger than his half starved body would suggest he should be. He wings Murray and almost injures Joyce too, though she manages to stumble onto the one thing that jars him out of his frenzy enough to start talking him down.
She mentions Max.
Its like her name is a trigger word for him. He freezes entirely, mid swing. Joyce capitalizes on this and starts telling him anything she can think of about the girl to help calm him down. She tells him about her new skateboard, about the song she's had on repeat all summer, and even how much the girl has missed him.
That opens a huge crack in him, and he actually speaks for the first time since Starcourt. He whispers with absolutely heartbreaking disbelief, "She missed me?"
Joyce, her mom senses now throughly activated, assures him that she has, tells him that they're going back home, that they're willing to bring Billy with them if he promises not to hurt anyone. She shouldn't be promising this but all she sees is "Hurt kid who really needs some help".
He stops fighting, and agrees with a nod.
He doesn't speak for the rest of the journey, and he still can't be touched without triggering him so they're careful to avoid that. He also doesn't sleep or eat which Joyce finds incredibly worrying but can't do much about.
When they make it back, the group is waiting for them. They told Max ahead if time who they found there too, warned her that he wasn't quite the same, but she couldn’t give two shits honestly.
When he sees her, its like the light flips on in his eyes. She's so familiar to him, the one thing he'd been able to keep a hold of in his mind through all of this, that when he sees her he just breaks.
She's the only person who can touch him without triggering him and she uses that privilege to hold him while he shatters. She doesn't know what happened to him, none of them really do, but she’s determined to help him heal regardless. She feels like she wasted enough of their time before hating him for something she now knew all too well wasn't his doing.
Billy's recovery is rough and slow going. Physically he's doing far better than anyone in his position should be. They discover that he can still eat, just not....food. They tried that once and he got violently ill. The mindflayer permanently reworked his body to be able to digest toxic chemicals, and that's the only thing he can stomach. They try several before finding which ones he actually likes and which ones will feed him but he doesn’t really care for. (Draino, for instance is fine but it tastes weird, where as Pinesol? All day long.)
Mentally however he's a wreck.
He sleeps but only for an hour or two so its hard to miss. He's terrified that if he sleeps too long the mindflayer will find a foothold and take him over again. Plus he's so afraid of the nightmares. He hasn't had one, but he knows if he does, it'll be bad for every one.
He can't tolerate groups, or the smell of antiseptic, bright lights or temperatures too hot. Too cold sucks too but at least it doesn't cause him physical pain, just extra mental anguish. He's still incredibly touch averse, and will panic if restrained in any way.
Max ends up having to ask the group for help caring for him, because he's far too hurt for her to handle on her own.
Joyce has a little leeway with Billy since she kept her promise and brought him back home, back to Max. She's also a gentle motherly presence, which is something he's been starved for long before the Russians. He's still wary, but he'll let her help more often than not.
El, also becomes part of the recovery squad. She understands uniquely what its like to have been a test subject, and to have part of the upside-down living inside. She is familiar enough to him to not immediately trigger him, and small enough that she doesn't register as a threat. The mindflayer reels whenever she's around, which hurts a little but Billy hates the goddamn thing so he'll put up with the headache to torture the thing back.
She teaches him what she knows about how to use her powers, and consequently his own, teaches him how to navigate his mind to the best of her ability, and how to build up mental walls against the mindflayer. It helps IMMENSELY, and before he knows it, Billy has built a box to lock the mindflayer inside of.
It also has the unintended side effect of letting Billy explore his consciousness and address his traumas in a unique way. He's able to see his memories from the outside, see how he's been treated without bias, and come to realize how desperately unfair it was.
For a while it makes him angrier, because he can see how much all of that cost him, how badly it really hurt him, and how much of his life it ate. The year the Russians took from him is nothing compared to the 18 that Neil took.
But with time and care, especially from Max, El, and Joyce, he learns to refocus on the life he's still got left. And once he starts thinking of it that way, he lives with a vengeance.
He refuses to let any more of his time pass in pain. Yeah, things are still rough, he still doesn't like to be touched without someone notifying him that they're going to do so, and he still jumps at loud noises. He's having nightmare, but at least he sleeps enough to have them. The mindflayer is quiet, all sealed up in its box, and he's got a near constant eye on his sister, safe and sound.
Things could be better, and someday he'll make them that way. Because if nothing else, Billy Hargrove is a survivor.
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Gunshots and screams echoed through the room from the soldiers above being torn apart by the Demogorgon. Hopper turned away from the security cameras, the sight no less horrifying than it was years ago. He stalked towards the scientist, grabbing his collar, pushing him against the wall, “How do we get out of here?” Hopper yelled in his face.
The Russian whimpered, pointing shakily towards a door. Hopper threw him to Enzo, who grabbed onto the back of his collar, keeping him in place. 
“Wait Jim,” Murray said, fumbling in his pocket, taking out a small gun, holding it out to him. Hopper took it, his grip tightening as he approached the door. He pushed it open slowly, using his foot to kick it open the rest of his way, his gun up and ready. 
The first thing he saw was a Demogorgon strapped down onto a table, its chest open and splayed out. It looked dead. 
Hopper turned away to keep from gagging and pushed past the curtains. 
“Shit…” The curse left his lips as he entered the room. Two rows of tanks occupied the room, each one holding a Demogorgon.
“Oh, my god.” Joyce breathed out behind him. Her hand lifted to cover her mouth. 
“Looks like they’ve been busy,” Hopper huffed, inspecting one of the tanks. They all looked dead, floating in whatever liquid the Russians had put them in. That was one less thing to worry about.
“What the hell is that?” Enzo spoke up, pointing at something over Hopper’s shoulder. Hopper looked over and froze. No way that thing was still alive, No way it actually was-
“The Mind Flayer,” Joyce muttered, the fear clear in her tone. 
His head shook to gather his bearings, “We have to get out of here,” Jim panted, taking a step back. 
A scream made him stop in his tracks. 
“Someone is in there,” Murray whispered, horrified. His eyes were glued to the cage as another scream echoed through the room. 
As Jim turned back around, a body slammed into the glass, another scream filling the room. 
Jim stepped closer, trying to see the man's face as he banged against the glass, begging to be helped. 
“Get that cage open,” “What are you serious, don’t you know what's in there?” 
“I’m perfectly aware of what that fucking thing is, just get the fucking cage open!” Jim yelled. 
The screams continued, echoing through the chamber, slowly engraving itself in Hopper’s mind.
The first doors slid open, Jim shot the second one, trying and failing to break the glass.
“Get this fucking thing open!”
“I’m trying!” Murray yelled, panicked.
The man in the cage let out another scream, falling to his knees in the middle of the cell.
Jim’s jaw clenched at the sight, giving up on shooting, and just hitting the butt of the gun against the glass.
There was another scream, but this was different, not human.
The Mind Flayer.
Jim turned back at Joyce’s shriek, his heart thumping loudly in his ears when he saw the Demogorgans twitching in their pods.
The man’s arms were spread wide, his mouth open in a permanent scream, the Mind Flayer attaching itself to his chest.
“Murray!”
“I’m almost there!”
But it was too late.
The Mind Flayer absorbed into the man's body, leaving him limp on the ground.
It was deathly silent. The Demogorgans had stopped writhing.
The cell door slowly slid open.
Hopper didn’t waste time running to the man's side, turning him over.
“Come on, come on you better be alive.” He muttered, patting his face.
Joyce had run to his side, her hand rising to her mouth after a gasp.
“Billy…”
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lucihatesgoats · 2 years
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WHATS THE FIC WHERE BILLY SEES THE MAGNATES ARENT WORKING AND FREAKS OUT
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scribble-dee-doo · 2 years
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Robin and Nancy get along great after the first territory dispute where girls make inscrutable comments while they decide whether to declare mortal enmity or undying friendship. Given who Nancy and Robin are, and the circumstances around their meeting, there's a moment or two where Steve is worried that the usual passive-aggressive verbal warfare between girls will end with a body in the quarry. He and Jonathan make panicked eye contact across the room a few times. They even team up to desperately try and derail Nancy's offer to teach Robin how to shoot, and share a celebratory pot of coffee when both girls come back, chatting comfortably.
It's never going to be comfortable with Nancy and Jonathan the way it is between him and the kids, probably, but being part of the Hawkins Weird and World-Ending Shit Squad buries real resentment pretty fast. Sometimes he looks up from Dustin explaining the newest science tomfoolery at the bi-monthly/whenever-we-have-the-time whole Squad dinners, looks around for his shitheads and takes note of Mrs. Beyers, Hopper, Jonathan and Nancy, even Eleven sometimes, and gets the feeling of what he imagined family gatherings are supposed to feel like. Like, in the old-school sense, or maybe the mob sense. Like the blood drawn andshed between them outweighs any other factor, stronger than steel. He even brought his own inductee to their little scifi cult and she is determined to drive Dustin into permanent baldness with all the hair-pulling.
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puppetmaster13u · 5 months
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Prompt 52
So I’ve seen several catboy Danny prompts, but hear me out: All of Amity becoming so ecto-contaminated that everyone becomes something akin to a mythological creature. And Danny? He becomes a Nekomata- a two-tailed cat that was said to be able to shapeshift into humans for mischief, including straight up haunting people and stealing corpses. Vlad ends up a kitsune- which is already associated with taking on human forms to seduce people and with things such as foxfire and possession. Tucker ends up a sphinx sort of creature- “It’s not fair you guys can just float around while I have to figure out how to use these stupid wings when I could be coding!”- and Sam ends up a dryad of some sort, they aren’t entirely sure what but that’s what they joke it is so…
The people sent to investigate this city are more than slightly freaking out.
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harcove · 2 years
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Hii, can I request an angst filled fic with billy please? I’m thinking he doesn’t die when him and eleven are fighting the mind flayer and y/n is part of the gang and helps fight the mind flayer. But when everything is getting back to normal Billy is having a lot of nightmares and calls you for comfort even tho he’s so hard headed he doesn’t actually admit the reason but you know..
Billy then realises you knew all along he was suffering and he’s shocked with the amount of love you’ve shown him and he wants to be with you but as he goes to admit his feelings to you he comes across you and Steve Harrington out on a date and it kills him..
That night he makes a plan to make you his and when you come home billy is tapping your window asking to sneak in.. I’ll leave it up to you how you end the fic but just a silly idea I had lol and I’d love to see how you write this :)
a/n: This took longer than I meant for it to because I ended up writing way more than I initially meant to so, here you go! (This was so fun tysm bbys) also I wrote with fem reader cause it's what I do by default eee....
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female pronouns)
Length: 6.4k (yeesh)
Warnings: Billy is struggling, mental illness, thoughts of death/dying, Billy curses ofc. OOC Billy a little ooc maybe, mentions of abusive parents
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My Girl - B.H.
Sleep was meant to be the escape from reality. It was the escape from all the bad things around you, all the bad thoughts and memories that demanded to be heard and seen. A moment in time where there was nothing, your brain was empty, or it felt that way, and you were free.
But people like Billy Hargrove weren't so lucky.
Whenever you sleep, people say you always dream, it's just a matter of whether or not you remember the dream when you wake up. Most of the time, dreams are forgotten the moment you open your eyes.
But people like Billy Hargrove remembered them when he opened his eyes.
Half the time, they were the reason his eyes had opened. They were less dreams, more memories, of that thing. The Mind Flayer. But they always ended differently than how it had really ended.
His corpse, on the ground in the mall, you leaning over him. Begging. Max, crying.
Or maybe it becomes your corpse instead of his. Or Max. Those ones are the worst. The ones where you or she die protecting him, or in his place. Because if anyone had to die that night, it had to be him. It should be him. 
Sometimes, in the darkest parts of his brain, the deepest corners he tried to ignore, he truly thought it might have been better if he died. Not just for everyone around him but maybe for himself.
It was hard. Some days were agony, while others weren't. Some days things felt so slow, and unreal, especially the first few weeks after the incident. He had grown a special distaste for hospitals for all the time he had spent in one.
Phantom pains would wrack his body some days, and nights. Some days it hurt so bad, especially his chest where the gnarly scarring lay, that he couldn't do much of anything. Days where his only reprieve lay in a bed that would let him fall asleep for minutes before it woke him up again with harsh reminders of everything. Tonight was one of those nights.
A  night where he woke up covered in a cold sweat, quite literally soaked through the clothes he wore to bed into the sheets; pale and rattled as he sits upheaving- it mixes with the sharpest pain in his chest that he has come to expect but it doesn't matter how much he expects it, it still knocks the wind out of him. 
For a brief moment, he feels like he's going to throw up what he had for dinner that night. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes close as he tries to breathe properly again; the erraticness of his heartbeat and his uneven breathing only make his body ache. Phantom pains. Like he's there again like he's watching through his own eyes as he takes someone else to be a puppet to it- screaming inside because he may be an asshole but he does not want to do this. The only thing his body can do on his own accord in those moments is cry; it must've been a sight to see. A newly 18-year-old boy, with tears in his eyes as he does horrific things for something else. 
Usually, it works. Usually, closing his eyes and just trying to breathe works; kind of. Billy can eventually find his bearings again and lay back down- maybe not to fall asleep again immediately, but just to lay there. Granted, he's not good at coping. He never was good at coping, and any mechanism he ever had has been dangerous or stupid. 
Yet tonight it won't work. When his eyes open again, it's still like he's in that moment. It's still like those tendrils are digging into his sides, into his chest, and like he's hearing himself scream as whatever that thing is tries to take one more soul before it too fades away. If he looks down at his chest, he is almost sure that he'll see the gaping wound again. 
He needs to talk to you. That's all he knows in those moments as he peels himself from his sweat soaked bed; he has to change the sheets and take a shower. Who knew a person could sweat that much? 
Billy had never been so glad before that he had a phone in his room; sometimes he wondered how the fuck he got away with that with his father. Before everything happened, it was something only Billy used in the house, everyone else used the phone in the living room, but nowadays, when Max really wanted to quickly call someone, she would use it too. Anything really to avoid Neil, and Susan at times too; Max said once that complacency could be just as bad as actually committing the act. That still stuck in his mind. 
Sitting on the edge of his bed beside his bedside table, the mint-colored phone in his hands, his body cries but he doesn't listen to it. Had he realized the time, Billy may've had second thoughts, not that he cared really what time it was, but you were most likely asleep and anyone in this house could've answered.
After two rings, Billy sighed preparing to just put the phone back on the base and do something. Anything, to calm down. Maybe go out for a drive- but you'd kill him for that one, it was dangerous when he felt like this especially considering when he felt fine he still drove like a mad man. The cold shower sounds nice but at the same time it doesn't; it scares him because he liked it cold. He loved it cold. And Billy never wants to feel that cold again. 
"Hello?" you sound tired, you swallow, throat dry. 
Billy doesn't say anything at first. What was he doing? It was the middle of the night, and he needed something to ground him again, to remind him he was here. He needed you; somehow it always came back to you, the comfort he needed. 
You had just been some girl that watched those stupid bratty kids, one of them being his sister. Someone who had been friendly with them since before Max and himself came to Hawkins. Someone, who in school, offered to show him around if he wanted. Someone that spoke to him as a person first rather than a nuisance or a piece of meat to snatch up. You became so heavily intertwined with him via school, his sister, her friends, and the Upside Down. He wouldn't admit it genuinely, but he was a bit disappointed that you got a job at JC Penny in Starcourt over the other position for lifeguard you had mentioned you might go for to him. 
He fucking hated Hawkins when he arrived the previous year. But maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought if you were in it.
"Hello...?" your voice alone made his muscles loosen, if only by a fraction. But now there was a new pressure in his chest, a tightness in his limbs not related to the dreams and memories or the aches and pains- it was related to you and he's not used to it. 
Billy hears you breathe out, preparing to hang the phone up, and he reminds himself; he is Billy fucking Hargrove, not a sissy baby who can't talk to girls. Right?
But you were different. 
"It's Billy."
He feels silly in that moment and his own name on his lips for some reason doesn't even sound like his name to himself. He was used to being so in the moment with his decisions; live now because it doesn't matter what you do, he won't ever like it- and rarely did he ever regret those decisions truly, but every other emotion in his body was working overtime. 
"Oh," your voice seems to perk up but takes on an edge; worry? He can't tell. He still isn't used to the emotion of worry being directed toward him, "What's wrong, is something the matter?"
It's then the words get stuck in his throat. All of the "yes, I can't forget tonight"s and the "I think maybe I should have died that day"s are lodged in the back of his throat. Billy Hargrove is stubborn; there's no chance in hell he is going to tell you the truth. No way he is going to let others really know. Though, he is pretty sure Max kind of knows- she was a lot more observant than he realized till now. 
Sometimes, Billy Hargrove is akin to a caged animal.
He is so used to people not caring. He is used to being hit for the small things and the big things; like the time he got a D on his history essay, or the time Max went missing. That is what he is used to. Telling the truth about how he feels is not in his vocabulary, and he isn't sure how to respond when someone opens the cage that he has been confined to for so long; scared that if he steps out, it is the wrong choice, and that choice means punishment. He doesn't trust, but he wants to. He doesn't want to seem weak, but sometimes, he truly is. 
"No," he scoffs into the phone as if he wasn't the one who called so late, but you were, "It's nothing, I just..."
Just what? He can't find an excuse. He can't understand himself.
You're wide awake on your end now. If he could see you, he would've seen the way your face softened, eyes half-closing as your brows dipped in sad understanding. He doesn't need to speak for you to know. He is good at hiding, that you figured out, but not good enough because you can hear it in his voice, the way he speaks as he might just start either screaming or crying at the drop of a pen. The way his voice softens immediately after he says no, down to a low whisper, like he is trying to just disappear. The rattle in his breathing that he doesn't even realize himself like he still can't catch his breath properly.  
He is hurting. He is scared. You know he is. Nightmares aren't uncommon to you, but you're sure the ones he gets must be even worse than the ones you do, and they must be almost constant. If you were there, you would've wrapped his larger frame into your smaller one and tried to comfort him, but you were miles away in your room. 
"It's okay," you finally respond after he loses his voice, his brows furrow, "I mean... It isn't okay, how could it be, after everything?"
Billy doesn't respond, only holds the receiver tighter in his hand, almost thinking it might break. 
"I just mean that it's okay to talk about it," you continue after his silence, "you don't need to talk about it at all if you don't want to Billy. But I want to listen if you ever do, and I think Max would too."
You hear a small snort. Billy isn't so sure Max would want to listen. Maybe she would, their relationship had been doing leaps and bounds better than before. Billy never hated his step-sister; in his own twisted ways he loved her, but he hated that it was her mother's marriage to his father that took him away from California- one of the last things in his life Billy could say he truly loved at the time. He's horrible with his words still when it comes to talking to Max or most anyone about anything that troubles him, or saying sorry (which he has- it's just been very awkward and he just can't seem to get it right, not the way he wants to) and he just wishes he could explain why. Why he is how he is, or how he was- still kind of is- someone like him isn't so easy to break and mold, especially with his father still in his life. But he wants to try. He is trying. 
"She would," you insist, "I know it's tough between you two still sometimes, and you're both trying to navigate the relationship you both want, but she cares. Like you do. It's just hard for both of you."
Billy thinks about what you're saying in silence again. His actions define him, and they continue to do so every day. Saving the kids and you, and Steve, Nancy- the whole gaggle of people- that night has defined him as well, but it is muddied behind his other actions, ones he had taken out of anger or fear. The time he almost ran over Max's friends comes to mind; he wasn't ever going to do it, but that is their first memory of him. How he treated Max as a whole; the only times he was (almost) not under his father's foot. Or the time he threatened Lucas Sinclair; as much as he didn't want to admit it, it was as much for Max as it was for himself- or so he believed it was. 
He saw her upset- and as her older step-brother (albeit an unwilling one) he didn't like that. But even more than that, his mind immediately went to his father. Neil Hargrove wasn't a good man, never had been, never would be. Good at acting like a nice guy; it was how he scored Susan, and he assumed his mother too initially. If someone hurt Max, if Max was upset by someone at school, and Neil saw, or Susan, who would inevitably tell Neil, it would be his fault. 
Max fell into his lap, his father would reign hell on him for anything bad in any way that happened to Max because of the fact she was Susan's daughter. He didn't hit Max, but he'd hit Billy because of Max, maybe even in place of her at times, he didn't know. He was glad he never actually touched her, however. Not to mention his father was racist. Lucas Sinclair being near Max, and his father finding out? It would somehow come back down to Billy. And maybe even Max wouldn't be spared from his anger.
There was a bitter part of him towards his sister sometimes too in that aspect even if it wasn't her fault that his father chose to use Max as more cannon fodder to hurt him. But she never really took that into account when she did things like running out the window, leaving him to pick up the pieces. He always picked up those pieces. 
The conversation between the two of you was one-sided at this point, not that you minded, nor did he because he still didn't know what he was supposed to be saying.
"I know things are hard right now. I know it has to be hurting a lot still, and I can't even tell you when or if that hurt will ever stop. Maybe it won't, maybe it will just dull with time but always be there, or maybe one day it will just be a distant memory. I don't know. But you do have people who care, Billy, I care. Try to sleep, if you can. I'll be just a phone call away anyways if you need someone to talk to. Or to talk your ear off; I hear I'm pretty good at that." 
That elicits a single hoarse chuckle from his chapped lips. He told you that once. He licks them as he takes in a breath. 
"Yeah... G'night." 
"Goodnight Billy." 
Even after he hears the click of you hanging up, he still holds the phone to his ear. He notes that his breathing has evened out considerably and that his muscles are looser than before. His chest still aches slightly with the phantom pain, but it doesn't feel like he is there with that thing in his body again anymore. He's actually sort of cold from the way the cold sweat he had woken up in soaks his sleep clothes; he knows he's taking a hot shower before he lays back down. 
It's in those moments, between him finally letting the phone sit back down onto the receiver, and getting ready to move to the bathroom to shower, that he realizes. He realizes you knew all along; well, clearly you did, because you knew what to say exactly when he didn't even say it himself. You noticed he was suffering, and likely always had. When it came to you, Billy Hargrove was naked even when he was fully dressed- you saw through him. 
And he didn't hate it like he thought he would. 
You were something special. Someone who had made him feel... Loved. 
He was almost sure that if you hadn't been there if you hadn't cared for him as you had even when he was a complete and utter piece of crap, then he would actually have died in that mall. He just needed someone to try for him, and always believe in him even when that monster was using his body as its little puppet, and that was you. 
Billy Hargrove couldn't imagine a future that didn't have you in it. And he had to do something about that. 
_____
It had been a week since Billy had called you in the middle of the night. He'd seen you a few times since, mainly when he was dropping Max off to the Arcade which you happened to work out; the kids were once again subject to the arcade in town and the little shops around there now that Starcourt had been 'destroyed by a fire.' 
But those were only small moments, moments where you had a minute to say hello and ask what he was doing that day, and then you were off again and so was he. But he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. All he needed to do was admit it to you. So, on a day he knew you wouldn't be working, he took his beloved Camaro and started the drive to your home.
Billy didn't worry about if your parents answered the door or not, because he was good at charming people. He was good at making good impressions when he wanted to, it was how he got Mrs. Wheeler to bend like putty. But he wouldn't be flirting with your mom. 
The way to your home took him through part of town, the part that had the silly little movie theatre that paled in comparison to the one Starcourt had, or even any of the ones he had been to in California. But that was the price you pay for a small town, an interdimensional being, and the Russians in the only big mall Hawkins had had. 
Maybe if things went well, he'd take you to that small theatre and-
The stop light turned red, forcing Billy to stop his Camaro right beside the theatre. It wasn't a problem, or it wouldn't have been, if he didn't see Steve Harrington walk out of the stupid little theatre with you by his side, smiling and talking animatedly. 
You weren't his. So he had no right to feel how he did in that moment. To feel the blood pumping in his veins, in his ears, to feel it boil like hot water on the stove. To feel the sudden nausea he'd feel when he woke up from a dream that was far, far too real. To feel jealous. The burning jealousy in the pit of his stomach gnarled together with the other feelings he felt, and the moment the red light turned green, he hit the gas not caring how over the speed limit he was going. He did that anyways, he liked to drive fast, but now it was for a whole other reason.
Tanned fingers held the steering wheel with newfound emotion; it hurt. He hated the hurt. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to anywhere. So instead, he just drove off towards Lovers Lake and sat in his Camaro.
At first, he had his music blaring on the radio. Max always said that he would go deaf someday because of how loud he played his music. She also said that he was probably already going deaf whenever he didn't listen to her. It always earned Max a half glare and a look of annoyance and the title of shitbird.
But what people didn't really understand was that sometimes, when he played the music loud enough (especially in recent months) it would deafen out the rest of the world and even his own thoughts. It was in those moments, listening to his favourite songs on painfully loud volumes that he wasn't anyone, he was just a guy listening to music.
Not that he'd ever tell anyone that. It sounded deeper than it really needed to be, and he'd rather leave it at just being the bad boy who liked his music way too loud for his own good.
Eventually, the music would run its course. For hours, he listened to the same tapes of music he enjoyed. But now it was just loud and did nothing. Now, it was just loud background noise to the hurt and anger in his chest. In his head.
He really needed to learn how to cope better.
Billy had never been on good terms with Steve Harrington, and he was fairly certain if it had been anyone else with you, he wouldn't have been as upset as he was. He'd still be upset, sure, but something about Steve Harrington scratched at the sorest parts of his brain and triggered an annoyance unbridled.
At first, he wasn't even sure what it was about Steve that got on his nerves. But it was over time, and more recently (everything, he realized seemed to happen so much more recently) that he started to figure it out. It wasn't that he was a popular kid before and now he was quote en quote, nothing. It was jealousy.
Billy realized he felt jealous quite a bit it seemed.
Jealousy for the fact that even if he wasn't King of Hawkins anymore and that the title had been snatched by Billy, he seemed happy still. Jealousy over the fact that he had gotten away from people like Tommy and Carol. Sheep, followers, who never really cared about you as a person but only your popularity and what it had to offer.
Jealousy because he was angry. Angry in general, at the world, and the people in it, and Steve Harrington became the easier target for Billy's overflowing negative emotions that he couldn't find a place to put.
After Starcourt, after everything, the feelings simmered. But they still remained, it was hard for Billy to change his feelings. Especially seeing how people liked Steve and were friends with him for that. Not to mention, that night with Max disappearing, and then Steve lying about it and insinuating he was dumb even though he could see Max in the window? It still bugged him.
But seeing him with you had sparked the fire in his belly again. It was as if every feeling he had tried to quash towards the man had come back tenfold.
Steve Harrington was going to get you. He was going to have someone that Billy actually wanted. Someone that he didn't just look at with lust- one of the first people to ever show him care, and Steve was going to snatch that.
Progress be damned, being nice and not letting his anger or jealousy override him be damned as well- he had to tell you. He wanted you to be his. And if it didn't work out, well, he'd cross that road when he got there he supposed.
That's what he usually did.
___
The music in your room was on a low volume, not wanting to wake your family members in the other rooms. It was late, and you were finally winding down for the night.
It had been a long day, one that left your feet aching a bit, but it was a good pain. One that told you that you'd accomplished a lot during the day.
You fully intended to relax on your bed for a bit, reading a book and listening to the music on your small stereo, dressed in your comfortable pajamas. Maybe you'd grab a snack too, and-
The sound of something tapping on your window made you freeze. Immediate thoughts were full of sudden fear, almost like your body was preparing itself for the flight or fight response. It had become something your body did without much thought, solely because of the past events that haunted Hawkins that very select people knew about. It had been quiet for a few months now since Starcourt, but you had learned to never really truly trust Hawkins to be completely normal. 
Internally you knew that you were overreacting in the moment, so you reminded yourself it was fine; probably wind, or maybe a tree branch near your room hitting the windows. But it didn't hurt to check the window. You were glad to have done so because what you weren't expecting to see was Billy Hargrove at your window, looking at you with an unimpressed look in his eyes- waiting for you to open the window.
Which you did, quickly at that.
"What are you doing?!"  with the window open, Billy hauled himself up and into your room as you moved to the side, holding your arms out to help him in case he needed it; you doubted he did, you doubted he would want you to help him too much either. 
"You have a tall ass window," Billy groaned as he lifted himself into your room, booted feet meeting the wooden floor with a soft thud. 
"Cause it isn't meant to be climbed into!" 
Not wanting to wake anyone in your home, you hissed when you spoke, closing the window softly behind him. With him in your room, your immediate thought was to check him over, to check if he was hurt in some way, shape, or form that was visible to the naked eye. 
People knew. People knew now what went on with him at home, and it wasn't Max who told them, it was technically Eleven, when she looked into his memories, his mind. You had suspicions before; he was someone you cared about, your friend, and his father had never been someone Billy mentioned fondly. He wasn't even someone Billy would mention unless he had to. 
Bruises that hadn't been there before, or tired eyes that were past tired and held an emptiness that was much more telling than maybe he realized. Those were signs, those were things you looked for and always had whether he noticed or not. 
"Are you checking me out?" he suddenly asked, as your eyes finished a final sweep of his body. The smirk on his lips made your face heat up, and well, it did kind of look that way, didn't it? 
"What? No- I was just, well..." you couldn't exactly say it because you didn't know how he would feel about the fact you were looking at him, inspecting him, for any sign of his fathers abuse. It was a sore subject, it wasn't something he liked multiple people knowing. 
He rolled his eyes. He either knew, or your hesitance annoyed him. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Billy. 
"I don't blame you," he chose to continue the line of conversation, moving to examine your room. He'd been there before, in high school, when you both hadan asignment together. But he never really took it in; it was simple but suited you. 
"You're insufferable sometimes, you know that?" 
Billy still has the smirk on his face but doesn't respond. It's odd. For the time you have known him, Billy Hargrove has never been the type of man to stay quiet in these situations, never the guy to back down first in a game of sarcasm and witts- and never ever to back down from flirting with anyone he initiates it with. 
You're worried. And Billy sees it in your eyes; it's another reminder to him for why he is here. 
"Is something wrong?" you speak softly now, moving to turn the stereo volume down completely. It's still a bit jarring that he's in your room nearing the middle of the night, but you had let him in, and you had no reason to turn him away. Not with everything.
"Why would something be wrong?" he was bluffing- you weren't stupid. 
"It's almost the middle of the night," you point out, leaning forward on your bed to peer into his face, "and you came to my window." 
"Nothings wrong, jesus." 
Silence again. 
"Saw you while I was out today."
The way he spoke was suddenly a bit more serious, a bit cooler, a bit more fenced off.
"Oh? Why didn't you come over and say hey?"
"You were with Harrington."
Oh.
The way Billy said Steve's last name was like he was talking about a bug he had seen or like he had seen something that made him sick.
"I was headed to find you, and you were with that shithead."
You shot him a look, he sort of made it sound like whatever was wrong was your fault or your being with Steve when he went to find you was an offense towards him. He also didn't need to call Steve names, but that likely wasn't going to change, even with the two of them on more neutral terms.
"Is that the problem?" You probed, mild annoyance on your face, "that you wanted to see me but I was with Steve? You couldn't just... Talk to us both, but Steve was there?"
"Seriously?"
Billy knew he was struggling in that moment with what he came here for. He was still angry, upset. He still struggled with his words and he was surprised it hadn't been the death of him at this point.
"Well, yea? What's your issue with Steve still, Billy it doesn't-"
"That isn't the problem, Jesus christ! It isn't just that I wanted to go talk to you and you were out with him. The problem is that you go around and make me feel these stupid fucking feelings I don't know what to do with, and I see you on a fucking date with a guy like Harrington!"
Oh. Oh. 
There was something deeper about this, you knew from the start, but that wasn't the deep you thought it would be. Having Billy be at Steve's neck was something you expected. It was something you had grown accustomed to after everything, especially Starcourt. They could play nice with one another- well, as nice as they could. It was mainly Billy. 
"That-" you pause, frozen sort of, if what he was insinuating was true, the he... "A date, with Steve?"
"The theatre." 
He said it like you didn't know the word, and like he was losing patience. With you, or himself, you couldn't quite tell. Maybe both. You don't want to get angry with him because you know that will only escalate things further and if you antogonize him now, you may never get a proper answer or response out of him- and your family might just come barging in because of all the noise. 
"You don't have to say it," he suddenly throws his head back, looking at your ceiling before bringing his head back down, his blue eyes looking directly in yours, and he looks tired, "It's his stupid fucking hair isn't it? Or whatever the fuck there is about him, I don't know. I came here with a purpose, to tell you, to make you mine. My girl. But-"
He lets out a breathe, an angry one, a frustrated one, one that could blow down a not too sturdy house if given the chance.  
"What the fuck am I doing," he said it to himself mostly, but how could you not hear him, he was right there. 
"Billy..." you want to reach out for him, to help, to make things better, but he's already pulling himself away.
He's good at that, pulling himself away. 
"I gotta go, before my dad decides he wants to check if I'm in my room," he bitterly says, "crazy how he wants to seem like a parent sometimes; piece of shit." It had become quite apparent after Starcourt and Billy's almost death that his father was trying harder to put up appearances; he was still the same man, same abusive piece of shit, but now more people were aware. And that meant something.
Given everything, it was a shot in the dark for you to reach out and grab his wrist. Given his emotions, and the issues with his father, it really could have went one of two ways; he could've reacted badly like a caged animal, or he could've let it happen. 
Thankfully it was the latter. 
"No, don't," you spoke softly, a hint of pleading in your voice. His wrist is bigger than you realized as your fingers wrap around it; he has a watch on you note and his skin is warm, "Stay. We can talk about this, we should talk about it."
It stops him, you're surprised it does, but he looks at you, incredulous. To him, in that moment, there is nothing to talk about; he has likely made a fool of himself, his emotions always getting the better when he really needs them to stay down. His intention to make you his was gone the moment he came, because when he looks at you and thinks about it, about everything that has happened, he finds himself thinking- god forbid Steve Harrington finds out about this- that maybe he's the better choice.
Not because Steve Harrington is more attractive than him, or that Billy thinks he can't pull someone like you; he's always been fairly confident in himself on the outside. But things are different now. And there's something in him deeper that's more broken than it was before in some ways, he didn't think that was possible. Someone like you? You would only give him kindess, one that he's sure he'd somehow fuck up. He will ruin you like his dad ruined his mom. How can he be anything right now when his thoughts are plagued with a interdimensional being that should have killed him. 
He should be dead. 
"Y'see," he starts, already preparing to rip himself away, "I don't think there is. This was a shit idea." 
"I wasn't on a date with Steve!"
It's the only thing you can think to say in that moment to stop him from leaving, because you don't want him to leave. You don't want him to go back to his father right now, or sit in his car somewhere in the dark, alone with thoughts that he so desperately wants to hide but overtime it begins to crack because one can't stay hidden forever. Especially not with the trauma he was holding onto. 
It works, because he isn't moving anymore. Rigid like a board.
"I wasn't on a date with Steve," you repreat in a more calm and even voice now, dragging on his wrist to pull him away from a window, scared that he might just jump out of it anyway if you're not careful, "Steve, he... Sure, he asked me out before, I said no. That was forever ago, and I think he just wanted something to distract himself from Nancy, to feel like he moved on. But he's my friend still, and we were just going to see a movie. That's all that was. I don't like Steve that way."
The unspoken 'but I like you that way' is in the air but you haven't said it. For everything that happened between you and Billy, you're scared. You cared for him, more than some people thought you should. But you had never been one to let people's first interactions define them for the rest of their lives; it was a good thing you felt that way because if you hadn't then you could've very easily been like everyone else who saw him as Billy Hargrove: Asshole, King of the Keg and Hawkins, seriel flirter who was just bad. 
It's sudden, but his large hands are suddenly cupping the back of your neck and head. He's gentle, but there's a forcefullness within his touch that makes a tingle run down your spine. Forced to look into his eyes deeply, you see so much. Eyes that he liked to keep empty are full of emotion in front of you. 
"All I'm hearing," his voice is low, husky, something only you would be able to hear if there was anyone else in the room with you, "is that I have a chance." 
It's so like him. So like him to make it a little less serious than it is. It's definitely a mechanism to dodge the conversations that might just make him uncomfortable, the ones he isn't used to or maybe hasn't even had. And that's okay right now, you'll let him have that for now. 
"And that you jumped the gun," you offer back slyly, "it's kind of cute. You'll have to work on it though... And work on having some heart to hearts." 
It's a subtle confirmation that you want him. You want him too, like how he wants you. And if he was anyone but himself, it might've made him cry. But instead, it just makes his smirk grow; no, not a smirk, it's a smile. He's so beautiful when he smiles. You wonder if anyone has ever told him he's beautiful; you add it to your list of things to tell him at some point. He's beautiful. 
"Cute? You're killing me babe," he whines like he's a child, but you can see how giddy he secretly is inside and it only reaffirms what you said to yourself, "...I'll work on it."
"You deserve to be happy. And we can work on it, together."
Again. Its like you've read through him. Like you saw his thoughts and feelings on thinking maybe he should've died. Or feeling like he can't have this because he will just ruin it. There are no words he can scrounge up as his heart beats heavy in his chest. He can only put his forehead against yours.
It's silent for a few beats as he keeps his hands on the back of your neck, his head tilted down towards yours. It's odd to see him act that way, but it's not a bad odd. It's good. You want to see it more. 
"So... My girl?"
He sounds so cocky, it makes you roll your eyes.
"Your girl." 
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Reach Out and Touch
For @mungroveweek Day 2
"Well, great, Munson. Thanks to you, we're going to starve to death down here."
"Me? You're the one that stepped on the vine!"
"Well, this wouldn't have stepped on it if you weren't distracting me!" Billy sniped at the other teen tied to his back, trying to face him only to get a mouthful of Eddie's hair. Billy spat the strands of hair out as he pulled at the gross slimey tentacles that bound the two together. This seemed to anger the appendages as they tightened their grip. The blonde grunted as Eddie's back slammed into his. It had been almost a year since he "died" and ended up in wherever the hell this place was, Billy wasn't exactly sure. At first, he thought it was hell. It had to be, he thought. After all those things that creature who stole his body made him do, Billy figured it was divine punishment. But then he found out that he was very much alive and if he wasn't careful, the creatures that roamed the land he was stuck in could very easily kill him. He learned to survive and he adjusted.
Then he ran into the idiot pinned to his back. Eddie freaking Munson. His former drug dealer and the only other human in the upside down (apparently, that's what his sister and her shit rat friends called it) . He remembered finding the guy half dead near the trailer park. He spent weeks taking care of the other teen, making sure he didn't die. The guy was kind of annoying, but he had pretty good taste in music. And while he wouldn't let Eddie know it, Billy had been desperate for any human contact since he woke up here.
Billy wasn't exactly sure how long it had been now. A few weeks? Or maybe a few months. It was kind of hard to keep track of time here. Eddie was still learning how to survive this place and, as a result, often messed up. They'd had a lot of close calls. But this? While not as deadly (so far, at least), the grabby tentacles were far more annoying. Billy's axe had been tossed to the side by another vine, leaving the two unarmed in the middle of the woods by Lover's Lake.
"Come on, dude, don't worry." Eddie assured Billy as he rolled his shoulders. "Listen, I can't reach it, but I have a knife in my back pocket. You can use it to cut us free."
"This better not be a ploy to get me to grab your ass."
"If I wanted that, I'd just ask." Billy couldn't see it, but he knew Eddie winked as he said this. The younger teen sighed with a roll of his eyes before maneuvering the arm bound to his right side behind him. Running his palm along Eddie's jeans to which the metalhead let out a laugh. "Oh yeah, get a feel for it-"
"Shut up, I'm trying to focus." Billy grunted as he dug into the first pocket. Nothing.
"Wrong pocket~," Eddie called out in his sing-song phone. Billy's hand retracted and reached for the other pocket. His fingers found the blade's handle and quickly pulled it out. Lifting his arm as much as physically possible and using it to slice at the viscous vine wrapped around his chest. It took a few minutes of sawing before slicing the vines down the middle. They fell in a pile, allowing the two boys to stand up as Billy caught his breath. "Hey, are you okay?" Billy turned to face Eddie. Despite the earlier teasing, the metalhead looked genuinely concerned.
"Yeah. I'm fine." Billy shrugged as he tossed the knife back to Eddie. "Just be more careful next time."
"But I-whatever." Eddie threw his hands in the air, and it was Billy's turn to laugh. There were worse people to be stuck with down here.
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stranger-rants · 2 years
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A Couple Post-Starcourt Headcanons (a.k.a. More chronically ill/disabled Billy thoughts)
When Billy sees his stitches and scars for the first time, his heart races and his hands tremble. People try to console him. That it doesn’t look so bad. That it means he survived. That he’s still a good looking guy, but he doesn’t care about that. When his hands ghost over the staples up his chest and abdomen all he can think about is being torn apart. Every tug of his skin makes him shiver. Even months after the stitches dissolve and the staples are removed he still has nightmares of his body just falling apart. He puts on layers of clothing because it makes him feel safe, but everyone just thinks he’s ashamed of his body now. They just don’t get it.
For the first few months of recovery, Billy struggles just to sit up. He can’t exactly use his core muscles effectively. Every time he tries to sit up, his heart monitor beeps frantically and nurses flood into his room. He did lose a lot of blood. His heart is fragile and overworked as it is, and he struggles to get enough oxygen. When he’s released from the hospital he still gets dizzy spells if he stands up too quickly and his heart races. Just going up a few steps makes him winded. He has to do breathing treatments and take supplements and drink a lot of water and get enough salt and it’s like a full time job trying to keep himself alive and he’s overwhelmed.
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whenyouwishuponastar7 · 2 months
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WIP Wednesday
A conversation from chapter three of pledging my time But the rest of that chapter will be posted in a month 👀 tomorrow, I'm posting chapter two!! ---
“Yeah,” Steve says slowly. “That’s what they said. It has to be a bad reminder.”
“I don’t think he ever forgets. I know what you mean, though. Owens wasn’t sure any of it would even work, but we have him back,” Joyce says, smiling. “Hop said he wasn’t that surprised to see you. Billy talks about you a lot.”
Steve clears his throat, shrugs and grabs the soda. He downs half of it. “Uhh, well. I dunno. Like you said, I’m the only one around that’s his age. Shared experiences and whatever. Sure, it was terrible before, but, you know. Bygones or whatever,” he says. “You were right about him getting to be himself. Like, himself isn’t bad. Or he isn’t! He doesn’t have anyone to impress and Tommy H isn’t lurking anywhere to egg him on. So, yeah. He’s okay. Well, better than okay. I guess we’re friends? I’m not sure—"
“Steve,” Joyce says gently, sympathetically. “It’s okay if you like him, too.”
“Jesus,” Steve mutters, rubbing his hands over his face. “Sorry. I do! It’s just different to hear Billy Hargrove doesn’t want to kill me.”
She looks amused. “You’re such a sweetheart, honey. You two are more alike than you think.”
“I dunno about that.”
“Oh, please.”
Steve grimaces. “Maybe a little, okay? Okay?” he concedes, holding his hands up. “Hopper called us Bert and Ernie. See? He called Robin and I thing one and thing two, actually.”
Joyce laughs. “He went from a functioning alcoholic more concerned about himself to being responsible for numerous kids. Now he’s got a whole gang,” she says. “And they’re all teenagers. Imagine what it’s doing to him. Actually, imagine what it’s doing to me.”
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theladycarpathia · 1 year
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The blood is starting to seep past Chrissy’s hands, thick droplets of red spilling past her fingers. She chokes back a frightened sob and turns her head away. She can’t look at it. All she has to do is keep the material pressed firmly down over the wound and hope that they can get out of here soon. They need to get out of here soon.
A hand comes up and clumsily pats her face. 
“S’okay,” Eddie mumbles, rough fingers still stroking her cheek. Like she’s the one who needs comforting. Like she’s the one who is dying. “Don’t cry.”
This just makes it worse.
“I’ll cry if I want to,” she says weakly, because he’s half conscious on her lap, bleeding from demo-bat wounds in his stomach. She doesn’t know if the others have defeated Vecna, if she’s safe, if Max is safe, if any of them will make it out of here alive.
“‘M sorry,” he says, voice slurred, eyes glassy. The loss of blood is making it hard for him to focus, his dark eyes occasionally losing their clarity. He’s fighting hard to stay awake, as hard as she’s trying to slow the bleeding but if they stay here much longer, it’s a battle lost. He needs a hospital.
“Don’t be,” she whispers, adjusting her grip on his wound. She mustn't press too hard, she remembers, some remnant of a first aid class. “It was my fault.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” he counters and then coughs weakly, something awful and wet. “Didn’t want you to get hurt. S’all.” Chrissy blinks hard to stop the tears from falling. He hadn’t thought twice about saving her. The concert had gone well, drawing all of the bats to the sound but it wasn’t enough. They’d needed more time and that’s when they’d gone to Plan B. Plan Billy and a large crate of fireworks.
“I know,” she says softly, wishing she had a hand free to take his or to smooth the stray curls over his brow. But she can’t, because if she does then everything that they’ve been building towards since that day on the bench will be for nothing. Eddie is the first good thing she’s had in her life for a long while. She’s not giving him up. 
There’s a clatter from outside the trailer but when Chrissy looks up, it’s just Dustin barreling through the rotting door. He drops down beside them, face wracked with anxiety.
“How is he?” he asks, peering at the dark patch of Eddie’s shirt, the red staining her fingers. Chrissy shakes her head, hoping that Eddie’s half-closed lids means that he doesn’t see.
“We have to go,” she whispers and Dustin bites his lip. He’s just a kid and somehow he’s ended up making too many hard decisions today. “Where are the others?”
“Still not here,” Dustin says, turning his head towards the cracked open door and the vast, dark expanse of the Upside Down beyond it. “It’ll take them some time to get back from the Creel house.”
Chrissy swallows. They’re waiting here for Nancy and the others to get back like they know for certain that they’re going to come back. They can’t heave Eddie through the portal without some help but if they wait much longer, Chrissy is going to shove Eddie up that rope and back to safety herself. 
“The bats are gone,” Dustin says, seeing her face. “They’re gone so I think Vecna…I think they did it.” A sudden shudder wracks Chrissy’s body, some combination of fear and relief, and sheer exhaustion. She’s spent the last few days too terrified to sleep, only managing a few hours here and there when Eddie could sing to her. She wants to sleep without dreaming.
“Where the fuck are they?” Billy hisses, stomping through the door and shutting it behind him. He’s been pacing like an angry house-cat, scanning the horizon for Nancy’s group and any lingering bats. Clad in a denim jacket, blonde curls pulled back into a ponytail, he looks so different from the boy she’d known Junior year. She’d seen him at parties, at the basketball games with Jason, chewing on gum in her Math class. Enough for her to feel something when they announced his name on the list of the dead at Starcourt. But they hadn’t been friends, not until he came back from the dead.
“They’re on their way!” Dustin protests, although every minute they spend here is costing them. They have no idea what’s even going on in Hawkins and whether Max’s group is still intact. Especially as Max was taking on the biggest risk of them all.
“You don’t know that, Henderson,” Billy snaps, stalking over to the window and cracking the blinds. “They might have found who knows what and we don’t even know for sure if Vecna is dead!” He stares out mutinously for a moment, mind clearly churning. Then he drops the blinds and turns, jaw set.
“We give them two more minutes,” he says, even though this decision must be costing him. Chrissy knows exactly what it costs, the same price that she is paying by waiting here. There’s a furious glitter to his eyes, the same one that she’d seen when the other group had set off out of the trailer park on their bikes. He’d watched them vanish into the distance, until the darkness had swallowed them whole. “And then we tie my belt around Eddie for the bleeding. You and Chrissy go through to catch Eddie on the other side and drive like hell to the hospital. Got it?” 
“We have to block the portal!” Dustin says, gesturing to the front door. It wouldn’t take the bats two minutes to break it down and escape through the portal. With most of the bats wounded or dead, they have better chances but it’s still something they can’t risk. One bat, two bats, ten bats…any at all would be disastrous if they made it into the real world. 
“Then I’ll stay,” Billy snaps, as she’d known he would. “But we have to get Eddie out.” Chrissy looks down at Eddie in her arms, paler than before, his breathing shallow. He’s barely awake but every so often she catches sight of his eyes blinking up at her, like he’s trying to make sure that she’s still here, still okay. 
“Dustin,” she says softly. He looks up at her, his eyes huge and wet with tears. “We have to go. Eddie’s out of time. Billy will get the others.” 
Dustin curls one hand over Eddie’s limp one, something that she wishes she could do. There’s a quiver to his lip as he nods and she wonders if he’d trust Billy more if he knew what she knows. Chrissy isn’t quite sure of what happened before she joined the group - something about a sauna and a plate and Mrs Byer’s fridge, she’s probably missing some details - but this Billy hasn’t let them down once. 
“You’re going to have to…” Billy says and then stops, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Shit, the RV. How are you going to drive the RV?”
“I don't know,” Chrissy says desperately. Her driving experience is limited, and less than ideal, given that it started with her driving into a lamppost and more recently ended with her driving the kids away from the lake in Steve’s Beemer in a panic. She hopes he won’t mind that it’s…
…lodged in a ditch in the trailer park.
“Steve’s car!” she says, her voice loud enough to disturb Eddie, who opens his eyes at her voice. “I left Steve’s car by Max’s trailer!” She’d parked it away from the crime scene after Patrick had died. It should still be there and it’s easier to drive and less conspicuous than their stolen RV. The keys are still in her backpack, sitting in the real world version of Eddie’s trailer.
“Okay,” Billy nods. There’s a purple-red smear on his cheek, some remainder from the fight. He’d watched all of their backs today, pulled Dustin up from the ground, shielded Chrissy from a stray bat. “Take it and go. Dustin, help me get Eddie up.”
Chrissy lets them manhandle Eddie up into a sitting position and holds his shoulder while Billy undoes his belt. He does it up around Eddie’s middle, pressing the spare shirt pulled out of the drawer underneath to soak up the blood. Steve hadn’t seemed to have caught any other worldly rabies but she’s still not sure that anything in here is safe.
“Dustin, you go first,” Billy says, Eddie slumped against his side like a puppet. Chrissy reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing his fingers. 
Dustin climbs up the rope, falling with the smallest shriek as gravity turns around and he plummets through to the mattress below. Chrissy hauls herself up more easily, upper body strength gained from years of dance and hoisting girls up over her head. But the sudden drop is still shocking, the sudden twist as the world rights itself and she falls gracelessly down. Dustin is there to pull her up, immediately offering a hand.
“Alright, man, here we go,” Billy says, once he sees that they’re both on the other side. He taps Eddie’s cheeks, trying to make him more alert. “Wake up, fucker, come on. Dying really sucks, trust me. You don’t want to do it,” The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches.
“You always were an asshole, Hargrove,” he mumbles blearily. “But you kept your promise.”
“No, I didn’t,” Billy says ruefully, and Dustin raises his eyebrows at Chrissy. Neither of them have any idea what they’re talking about. 
Getting an injured man through a portal with only three of them is not something Chrissy wants to do again, even if Billy has the hardest part. Eddie stays awake long enough to hold onto the rope, his face creasing in pain every time Billy pushes him up. While Dustin holds him up, Chrissy looks back anxiously through the portal at Billy. But he grits his teeth and shakes his head at her.
“Go now, Chrissy!” he orders her. He’s picked up one of their abandoned spears, wielding it like he’s Mad Max or something. “Get him out and then try to contact Max. We’ll call on Steve’s walkie once we’re out.”
Chrissy swallows, reluctant to leave him behind. But someone has to wait for the others, and to block up the portal if Nancy’s group never makes it back. So she snatches her backpack and slings Eddie’s other arm around her shoulders.
“You sit in the back with him,” she says, as they stumble out into the night. It’s crisp and clear, the sharp bite of March. The trailer park is silent, and Max’s trailer is quiet and dark. Her mom must be at work.
“Okay, just drive carefully!” Dustin says, as she reaches into a pocket for the keys. Christ, Steve is gonna kill her. She’s taken his very expensive car for a joyride twice now. Not that escaping from the cops and driving a wanted suspect to a hospital really count as joyrides. 
“I’m going to drive fast!” she warns him, as the Beemer comes into sight. It’s still wedged in some mud from her emergency stop, some stray police tape caught in the wipers. She yanks it free and lets go of Eddie long enough for her to unlock it. They get Eddie carefully into the backseat and he blinks blearily.
“Will Harrington be pissed if I bleed in his car?” he asks, and Dustin climbs in next to him.
“Probably?” he says and Chrissy throws herself into the driver’s seat. 
“Hold on,” she warns them, tugging on her seat-belt. The hospital isn’t far and she can push the speed limit on the outskirts of Hawkins.  The police are probably too busy with actual murders right now to notice the Homecoming queen blow past them in a stolen vehicle.
“What about the others?” Eddie asks, before prodding Dustin in the ribs. “Seat-belt, dude.” Dustin rolls his eyes and does as he’s asked. 
“Not back yet,” Chrissy says tensely, putting the car into reverse and accidentally crunching the gears as she does so. “Billy’s staying behind.” 
“I don’t trust that guy,” Dustin says darkly, peeling back the fabric to look at Eddie’s wound. “Hey, I think the bleeding slowed down.”
“Yay,” Eddie says dryly. He sighs heavily and tips his head back. “Hargrove will look after them, dude. Don’t worry.” He sounds so certain that it makes Chrissy wonder exactly what went on between him and Billy in the RV. She catches Eddie’s dark eyes in the rear-view mirror before she shifts into drive. Something judders in her chest, the same crackling fireworks she felt in the woods, in Eddie’s trailer, watching him play. She was afraid before. She’s not now. 
“Billy will look after them,” she repeats, before firmly gripping the steering wheel. “Everyone hold on.” This is part of a universe! I’m hoping to make it a full fic eventually. Find the other parts here, here, and Billy and Eddie’s conversation can be found here. There’s another part to come in Harringroveweek on the 28th.
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