Stranger Things Headcanons - Blog Posts

Stranger Things As Songs From Speak Now (Taylor's Version)

This is my magnum opus. Should I do 1989?

Castles Crumbling - Steve Harrington

"Once, I had an empire in a golden age I was held up so high, I used to be great They used to cheer when they saw my face Now, I fear I have fallen from grace

And I feel like my castle's crumbling down And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground And you don't want to know me I will just let you down You don't wanna know me now"

The first time I heard Castles Crumbling I immediately thought of “King Steve” and Steve’s quiet identity crisis. Steve has undergone this simultaneously tragic and liberating fall from grace. He constantly wants to show people that he’s good and valuable despite him not claiming the title he once had. He’s burned bridges with Tommy and Carol and everyone from the part of his life he’s no longer proud of. While personally he may be fulfilled with his new life he is aware that he is perceived as a failure. He had the entire world gift wrapped for him and still found a way to tear it all down. 

Nancy Wheeler & Jonathan Byers - Mine

"Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water? You put your arm around me for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing that's ever been mine

Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together And there's a drawer of my things at your place You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes"

Mine is their song! It’s Nancy and Jonathan at their best. Especially in the early seasons both of them are very emotionally guarded but learn to open up to each other. In season 1 they both talk about not wanting to become their parents, wanting to stop the cycle of resentment and conventionality. Their relationship is almost defined by hardship, growing more intimate and personal the more they take on together. In their relationship it's them against the world especially because they are an unconventional pairing. They both have insecurities and baggage but ultimately they are there for each other and are better people for it (You can pry Jancy out my cold, dead hands). 

Max Mayfield & Lucas Sinclair - Last Kiss

"I still remember the look on your face Lit through the darkness at 1:58 The words that you whispered for just us to know You told me you loved me So why did you go away?"

"Because I love your handshake, meeting my father I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets How you'd kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions

And I'll go Sit on the floor wearing your clothes All that I know is I don't know How to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss I never imagined we'd end like this Your name, forever the name on my lips

So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are Hope it's nice where you are"

This song can be read as two sided but I primarily see it from Lucas’ perspective, particularly in the time of his and Max’s breakup. This song is about being crushed by the sudden end of relationship while still having allegiance to the person that left. Lucas is very compassionate and still worried about Max ever after their breakup. He didn’t care if she ever was with him again, only that she was safe and happy again. On Max’s side it crushes her to keep the distance between them and she’s haunted by the memories of their love and the sheer fact that Lucas is a good person who still loves her. They both wonder how much of the others life they missed and if things could’ve been different.

Nancy Wheeler & Steve Harrington - Back to December

"So this is me swallowin' my pride Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night And I go back to December all the time It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright I go back to December all the time"

"And then the cold came, the dark days When fear crept into my mind You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye."

While I am not a fan of the weird Stancy revival plot in season 4, this song really captures Steve's feelings towards Nancy. He deeply regrets the person he was when they were together and tells her that he didn't know what he had when he had it. She fundamentally changed him (which is why we should ALL be thanking Nancy for creating the Steve we know and love), and Steve wishes he could redo their relationship. The last line could also reflect Nancy's potential guilt about the way their relationship ended and her inability to reciprocate Steve's love because of her trauma and Barb's death. Also "I'm sorry for that night" is the night of the Halloween party. I don't make the rules. (Also Also Steve and Nancy dated for A YEAR that is so unfathomable to me :I)

El Hopper & Mike Wheeler & Will Byers - Superman

"I wonder if he knows how much that I miss him I hang on every word that you say And you smile and say, "How are you?" I'll say, "Just fine" I always forget to tell you I love you, I love you forever"

"I watch superman fly away You've got a busy day today Go save the world, I'll be around And I watch superman fly away Come back, I'll be with you someday I'll be right here on the ground When you come back down"

Superman can be interpreted from three different perspectives. Mike to El,  El to Mike, and Will to Mike. In season 4 Mike reaffirms his love for El by saying that she is his superhero. Her strength is the thing that he admires most about her and he is constantly in awe at her power. The line “I’ve loved you from the very first day” parallels Mike saying that he loved her from the moment he saw her. He even voices his insecurities about her leaving him behind once she realizes that he’s not anything special.

El has the complete opposite perspective, seeing herself as the unworthy one. Because Mike is the first person who ever extended kindness to El, she believes that he is the best person alive and is incredibly lucky to have him. El and Mike see the other as their Superman. 

From Will’s perspective Mike is his Superman. He is the leader, the heart, the paladin, and the great hero. He idolizes Mike in way which is why is rejection hurts so much. He wishes the cards were from Mike. That Mike knew how much Will reveres him. In his case, “I’ve loved you from the very first day” could be about the first day he and Mike met in kindergarten.

Will Byers & Mike Wheeler - Foolish One

"Foolish one Stop checkin' your mailbox for confessions of love That ain't never gonna come You will take the long way, you will take the long way down Foolish one Stop checkin' your mailbox for confessions of love That ain't never gonna come You will learn the hard way instead of just walkin' out

Now I'm slidin' down the wall with my head in my hands Sayin', "How could I not see the signs?" Oh, you haven't written me or called But goodbye screamin' in the silence And the voices in my head are tellin' me why"

The accuracy of this one hurts. I think the lyrics are self explanatory but the song reflects the anguish Will feels over Mike’s friendship and love slipping away.

Joyce Byers & Jim Hopper - Timeless

"I would've read your love letters every single night And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right And you would've been fine We would have been timeless 'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine We would've been timeless"

"In a crowded room a few short years ago And sometimes there's no proof, you just know You're always gonna be mine We're gonna be I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've madeAnd you'll say, 'Oh my, we really were timeless'"

Timeless is an affirmation that no matter how many times they are separated and torn apart, Joyce and Hopper will find each other. It's also about them wanting to stop dealing with interdimensional threats to their families and have a normal life together and live to see the other get old.

okay but imagine dming a girls-only dnd campaign with Nancy, Robin, El, Max, and Erica

The D&D scene in Hawkins has always been kind of barren. A boys club if you will. Of course there was always the party and the Hellfire Club but you were always looking for a space where you could feel more comfortable playing with other girls. 

When things become more stable in Hawkins you acquired a solid group of female friends. Nancy and Robin are your age, and while you definitely spend time with the boys, you’ve started to hang out just the three of you. 

El and Max are younger than you but you always enjoy their company. You serve as a kind of older sister figure to the party and the two of them kind of look up to you. 

You’ve only recently started hanging around Erica but you like her a lot and once she gets in to D&D you two start to bond. 

It’s actually Erica’s idea to start the campaign in the first place. 

All of the girls are coming in with different levels of experience. 

Nancy has observed D&D through Mike for a good chunk of her life and has occasionally participated so she knows the basic mechanics and other random facts about the game. 

Robin has never touched a 20 sided die in her life. The people that she’s hung out with before the summer of 85 were never the type to play D&D and she barley knew it existed before the whole Satanic Panic thing started to sweep Hawkins. 

Max has always been a bit put off by D&D. At first it was something that was used to exclude her from the group and once she became friends with the party she would be insecure that she wasn’t as good at it as the boys were. Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will had been playing forever and she feels like she doesn’t fit in.

When you pitch the idea to her you assure her that the majority of the participants are starting from square one and there's nothing to be worried about. That persuades her to give it a shot. 

El is just happy to be doing something with other girls. Of course she’s friends with Max but she longs for more female company. She also knows a little about D&D due to how much Mike has tried to explain it to her. 

Once Robin is introduced to D&D and learns the rules she’s super psyched about playing and creating her character. She also rolls her dice really weird (big Ally Beardsley ala Fantasy High energy). 

Robin is obsessed with languages so she quickly tries to learn Elvish and uses it during role play. Her experience in drama also leads her to commit especially hard (sometimes too much lol). 

As for classes and races: Robin plays as a teifling bard, Erica as a half-elf rouge, Max as a tabaxi barbarian (my first instinct was also rouge but Lady Applejack is already a rouge so gahhh), El as a half-elf mage, and Nancy as an elven duel class cleric and fighter.

Nancy is the resident note taker and jots down every detail, stat, and piece of inventory. 

She also probably unravels all of your planning with her great detective work. Like you’ll spend ten hours crafting a mystery that's supposed to be revealed in the very last session and she cracks it by the third.

Erica spends hours hand painting minis for each character. The detail is astounding.

"Did you paint a tiny star in her eye?" "I'm thorough."

El is that player who cannot do basic addition for the life of her (aka me). Max always has her back though.

"I rolled an eighteen. Eighteen plus seven is ....." "Twenty five." "Thank you."

El is also proficient in animal handling and constantly adopts wildly dangerous creatures to be her pets.

You might think that Erica is a head-straight-into-battle kind of player due to the absolute powerhouse that is Lady Applejack but she's actually incredibly tactical. Her and Nancy tend to alternate as party leader.

Max and Robin on the other hand are the kind of players who crave chaos.

You: "The villager seems to know something about the creature that lives in the woods. You can see however that he's apprehensive to answer any of your questions."

Max: "This guy is totally shady." Robin: "Yeah you're right ... we should punch him." Max: "Oh my god you're so right. If I roll a nat 20 can a tooth fly out?"

As a DM you are very attentive to your players. You craft scenarios for each girl to shine and show their growth as a player. You also make little dice boxes and customize. You make their favorite treats and have them in the middle of the table every session.

You notice they all seem to be getting closer and more comfortable with the game which warms your heart.

Sessions are hosted on Friday nights and usually conclude with movies, pizza, and sleeping over someone's house based on the availability of their living room.

Each girl also gets to make her own mixtape to play during sessions. The vibes of which are all over the place. Joan Jett, Pat Benatar, Kate Bush, Tiffany, Blondie. The works.

The environment of the campaign is so comfortable. Yes you're putting their characters through horrible danger and mental gymnastics but its out of love <3.

Your players are amazing. You feel so lucky that you're able to share something you love with the girls in your life and make it your own.

By the time you're nearing the end of your campaign Dustin and Lucas are begging to get in on the action for the next one, only to be disappointed when Robin slams the door in their faces clarifying that this party is "Ladies Only!".

Songs I Think Stranger Things Characters Would Listen To (The Party + Erica: Edition)

Note: For these lists, I tried to include songs that we haven't really seen in canon for the characters. We know that Max likes "Running Up That Hill", we know Mike likes "Small Town Boy", and we know Will likes "Boys Don't Cry". I love those songs and they are included in these playlists but I'm more interested in using music as a way to expand on and flesh out these characters.

I have also linked to Spotify playlists for each character. If you agree or disagree with any of my picks, please let me know!

Will Byers

Will has inherited a lot of his music taste from Jonathan but it's evolved in a way that's distinctly his own. Unlike his brother, Will's music tends to be more pop-focused. He likes new wave, post-punk, and moody songs that he can listen to while he paints. I think Will really pays attention to the lyrics of the music he listens to and it serves as a kind of therapy for him.

In Between Days by The Cure

Elegia by New Order

Mad World by Tears For Fears

Lost in the Supermarket by The Clash

It's A Sin by Pet Shop Boys

Major Tom (Coming Home) by Peter Schilling

Without You by David Bowie

This Charming Man by The Smiths

Mike Wheeler

Mike is always trying to appear slightly cooler than he is. He likes classic rock in a very Eric Forman way (if that makes any sense). By the time he joins Hellfire Club, he's trying to emulate Eddie's style and music taste because he just thinks Eddie's that cool. At his core, Mike enjoys sappy songs about love, life, and heartbreak because he's a dork who likes to jam out in his room.

Never Surrender by Corey Hart

Dream On by Aerosmith

Suburbia by Pet Shop Boys

Punishment For Love by Bronski Beat

Hold Me Now by Thompson Twins

Hells Bells by AC/DC

Summer of '69 by Bryan Adams

Eighteen by Alice Cooper

El "Jane" Hopper

El is just finding her own music taste. She’s only been shown music by her friends or Hopper so she picks and chooses what she likes. Mostly that’s a lot of pop music and ballads. She also watches a lot of MTV so her taste tends to skew pretty mainstream. When Max teaches her how to put together mixtapes her’s tend to be pretty upbeat or dramatic depending on her mood. While she’s contemplating her relationship with Mike she listens to a lot of gaudy break-up ballads. 

Hey Mickey by Toni Basil

She Bop by Cyndi Lauper

The Promise by When In Rome

Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler

Talk Talk by Talk Talk

Could've Been by Tiffany

Destination Unkown by Missing Persons

Two of Hearts by Stacey Q

Max Mayfield

Max’s music taste is kind of hard to pinpoint. It’s really a grab bag of pop, rock, experimental, and softer punk. The only way I can describe it is like “spunky”. There are also moments when the music she listens to becomes more introspective and brooding. In “Runaway Max” she mentions liking The Go-Go’s and The Beach Boys. 

Dreaming by Blondie 

We Got The Beat by The Go-Go’s 

Kids In America by Kim Wilde 

The Girl U Want by DEVO

Bette Davis Eyes by Kim Carnes 

Hounds of Love by Kate Bush 

California Dreamin by The Beach Boys 

White Wedding - Pt.1 by Billy Idol 

Dustin Henderson

Dustin is the nerdiest of nerdiest teenage boys (we wore a "Weird Al" t-shirt on his first day of high school I mean come on). He thinks that "Weird Al" is a genius for his use of parody and critique of pop culture (which, he's not wrong). He's always liked metal but it's only become more prominent for him since hanging out with Eddie so much. Being in Hellfire though has caused him to be more stealthy about his love for novelty records and one-hit wonders. He makes mixtapes full of love songs and saves up his money to send them to Suzie in Utah.

She Blinded Me With Science by Thomas Dolby 

Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen 

The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats 

Weird Science by Oingo Boingo 

I’m Gonna Be by The Proclaimers 

As The World Falls Down by David Bowie 

Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley 

I Lost On Jeopardy by “Weird Al” Yankovic

Lucas Sinclair

Lucas’ music taste is pretty diverse. He likes rock music but not as hard as Mike and Dustin’s taste. I imagine he’s picked up a lot of soul and r&b music from his parents, specifically his mom. In “Lucas On The Line” Lucas is introduced to Run-D.M.C. and really takes a shine to it so I imagine he’d be listening to some rap and hip hop. My qualifications for my picks were “would Lucas sing this infront of his bedroom mirror while using a hairbrush as a microphone?”. 

Another One Bites the Dust by Queen 

Walk This Way by Run-D.M.C. 

Dirty Diana by Micheal Jackson

Juke Box Hero by Foreigner 

Easy Lover by Philip Bailey & Phil Collins 

Everything She Wants by Wham!

You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine by Lou Rawls 

Never Too Much by Luther Vandross

Erica Sinclair

Erica is eleven so she tends to gravitate towards music that's popular or that she hears on the radio. Pop and R&B make up most of her cassette collection. The music she likes tends to be very upbeat and kick-ass (these songs are all bangers so she has amazing taste). Like Lucas, she also does dorky lipsyncing in her bedroom but unlike him, she's never been caught.

Head to Toe by Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam 

I Feel For You by Chaka Khan 

What Have You Done For Me Lately by Janet Jackson 

Got to Be Real by Cheryl Lynn 

Let’s Hear It For the Boy by Denise Williams

Rhythm of The Night by DeBarge 

Cool It Now by New Edition 

Swept Away by Diana Ross 

Being An Older Sister Figure to the Party

Headcanons for being an older sister to the party from seasons 1 to 3 (for now, I'll probably add more ideas that pop into my head, especially for season 4). I might even do a part two if someone requests it.

You’ve been babysitting Will since he was nine and as a result you’ve become very protective of him and his friends. 

You and Jonathan have always worked as a team to make Will feel accepted. You started coming over every weekend to watch movies or listen to music with the two of them, making sure that it was stuff that he liked. 

You listen carefully when Will tries to explain D&D to and you smile at the way he talks about “Will the Wise” and the adventures he goes on with his friends. Eventually Will’s party gives you a rundown of how to play and you participate sometimes (usually reading lines for an NPC Mike wrote beforehand).

Dustin and Lucas really like having you around. They always try to impress you with random references and facts that are pretty cringe-worthy but you find them charming. 

Even when Joyce couldn’t afford to pay you after Lonnie left you still stick around because you care about Will so much. It kills you to see how he and his friends get bullied and you try to help any way you can but it doesn’t always work. 

You and Joyce have always been really close and she treats you like a daughter. 

After Will came back from the upside down you visited him every day in the hospital and brought him a box full of his favorite things (art supplies, books, his favorite movies). 

You never really recover from what happened but you try to be a pillar of strength for him. 

When Max moves to Hawkins you quickly get wind of her home life. You make it your mission to make sure she has a place where she can feel comfortable, letting her stay over at your house whenever she needs a break from Billy or Niel. 

Max has never been traditionally “girly” but you help her feel comfortable in her femininity. Painting her nails, braiding her hair, taking her shopping for clothes because her mom is too overbearing, etc. 

She’s always struggled with finding positive female role models but you show her the strength in being vulnerable and tell her that she doesn’t have to act tough all the time.

When Steve Harrington enters the picture you’re a little skeptical. He never seemed like the kind of person who would spend his time worrying about anyone but himself and his asshole friends. You’re especially worried about Dustin trying to emulate him but soon enough you come around. He shows you that he cares about the kids just as much as you do even if its in a different way. You start to bond and anytime he worries about people still seeing him as “King Steve”, you assure him that he’s a great guy who’s doing his best. 

Eleven is your baby. After season two you make a point of treating her like a normal preteen girl. When she grows out her hair you buy her clips and look in every magazine to find hairstyles that she can wear. 

When Lucas and Max get together they break up constantly which leads to Lucas crying on your doorstep begging you to help him get her back. Lucas insists that he did it himself because he’s just that smooth (and he’s embarrassed about blubbering in your arms about missing Max). 

When Dustin comes back from camp you’re the only one who believes him about Suzie being his girlfriend. You even talk with her on Cerebro and quickly become pen pals. 

After season 3 you like to keep tabs on Erica. Mostly just to check if she’s having any problems sleeping after what happened on the Fourth of July, or sometimes just to hear her rant about her D&D character. 

You and Mike have an interesting relationship. He’s been Will’s best friend for as long as you remember and has been one of the only people who’s ever made him feel normal but at the same time he’s put that boy through the emotional wringer. 

He annoys you a lot of the time but at the end of the day you know he’s a good kid and who doesn’t have a lot of love in his life. 

Sometimes Mike comes to you about stuff he doesn’t tell anyone else. He sees you as one of the only older people in his life who won’t scold him for his mistakes. You always tease him or set him straight but at the end of the day you let him know you care.

You're the first person Will ever comes out to, and you make sure to guard that secret with your life.

At the end of the day all the kids love you and feel like they can come to you for anything, especially end-of-the-world stuff <3.

My Favorite Robin Buckley Details From “Rebel Robin” (that you can feel free to use in your fics)

These are canonical details from the book "Rebel Robin" by A.R. Capetta. It's so good please go read it!

Robin's favorite flowers are stargazer lilies.

Robin’s favorite songs canonically include: “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks, “I Want to Break Free” by Queen, and “All Through the Night by Cyndi Lauper”.

Robin doesn't like Hall & Oates (and that fact KILLS me).

Robin has hippie parents.

Robin had a bad perm for almost her entire sophomore year.

Robin didn't know she was a lesbian until almost the end of her sophomore year.

The real reason Robin can't drive is that she stole her parent's car after being grounded and crashed it while driving to the prom. She was promptly chased down by Hopper the whole night.

Robin's dream was to elope to Europe for a summer with a "special someone" (she called it Operation Croissant. She's such a fucking dork I'm in love with her).

Robin had a friend named Milton from band (please use him in your fics! He's so cool! He's Japanese American, he plays the electric keyboard, he played Robin's favorite song at prom!!!)

Robin worked at the movie theater before Scoops Ahoy.

Robin gave herself a short cropped cut with rusty scissors before the events of season 3.

Robin and Barb were friends in elementary school.

Stranger Things Masterlist

☔ = Angst

🌦️ = Angst to Fluff

💥 = Crack

☀️ = Fluff

💋 = Smut

🖤 = Yandere

🔔 = Request

🟪Imagines🟪

Henry Creel/001: 

■  In the Black Widow’s Nest 🖤 🌦️ (eventual/slight 💋)

Medieval AU; Series (Ongoing)

Prince Henry of the Creel Dynasty is finally in search of a wife, and in the spirit of courtship, King Victor has invited young royalty from all neighboring kingdoms to vie for his hand. But with so much royalty introduces the need for many more maids in the castle than usual.

Enter: You.

You're nothing but a servant in his home, an intruder in his prized library, and an utter nuisance in his mind. But then you survive his attack, and in an unexpected way nonetheless. That makes you... interesting.

You've caught his eye—congratulations! Now, you must deal with the consequences of loving a heartless prince in a world where far worse things lurk in the castle than dirty garderobes.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🟣Headcanons🟣

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Billy) 🌦️ 🔔

He Has a Nightmare About You (Billy, Steve) 🌦️

Hi! Already told ya but I really liked you ST headcanon❤️ could you make one with Billy (+ any other stranger things boys you want to add) about them accidentally hearing that y/n has feelings for them? It’s too cliched but such fluffy fluff is my air:>

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: yeah so this took me like a month but also guess what i had to bullet point every single goddamned mfing line in this post by hand bc of tumblr's new formatting or whatever, and then i posted it on the wrong goddamn request so i had to do it twice so ig we all got probs kill me. Anyways, i kinda went overboard on this prompt bc i love billy so naturally no one else made it into the hc🤷‍♀️ what a shame👀 Enjoy!

Word count: 4856

Billy Hargrove: 

“I don’t like him.” 

Billy’s eyes fluttered open, and they glided lazily onto your form in the desk in front of him. With his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed, feet perched on his own desktop, Billy knew the teacher had long ago given up on scolding him for his lackadaisical behavior in class, and even longer ago had he realized Billy would never put much effort in anyway. 

One such happenstance that seemed to disturb the entire class, though, was how Billy had wound up there in the first place. Honors English didn’t exactly seem tailored to his, er, capabilities, to put it lightly. 

However, before Billy and his family had moved to Hawkins, Indiana, he’d been quite the student (according to the principal…after you’d complained), and lost in translation was some other lame excuse that English classes in California were inherently more advanced than those of Indiana anyway. 

You called bullshit. You had sworn Billy had bribed the teacher to let him remain in the class just to disrupt your existence. 

It wasn’t exactly his crowd, so to speak, judging by the glasses, focused faces, and pencils scribbling around the room. Nobody in the room looked like they’d even smelled a cigarette before—well, not until Billy arrived.

But you? God, you fit in like a glove. Here was where you divided yourself from the rest of the school, from its bullies and booze and tobacco—from its corruption. You were innocent when it came to such “paraphernalia,” as you called it. You were untouched, and more importantly, you were unclaimed. 

Billy was enthralled with this virtuous disposition of yours. In the beginning, his feelings for you,“little Miss Priss” as he’d grown to calling you, appalled him. Of all the girls in the school he could choose from, all the hot blondes that fawned over him in the halls and the enticing brunettes that asked him out after catching his eye for a moment, never did he think for a fucking second that it would be you. 

The prude. 

“Don’t like who?” Billy interjected harshly, dismissing how you and your friend flinched at his sudden interest. 

“No one!” you both mumbled, avoiding his gaze and spinning around in your seats. 

Billy’s brow rose at that, and the instant the bell rang, he kicked his feet off his desk and reached a hand toward you. You scooted forward in your seat the second his fingers brushed you, and Billy paused, a small ache in his chest disguising itself as irritation. 

Clenching his jaw, Billy curled his fingers around the back of your desk chair and dragged you back to him, the rubber stoppers on the ends of your chair legs squealing in protest against the polished floors. The teacher glanced up from his podium at the front of the class at the sound, an unimpressed look on his face, but was otherwise unconcerned about the situation unfolding. After all, it happened almost every morning. 

The teacher sighed and resumed calling roll. Billy kept one fist clasped around the back of your chair and one long leg outstretched beneath your seat, his boot situated around the nearest footing to stop you from scooting away. He leaned forward, hot breath rustling your hair as you sat stock-still, hands folded in your lap. 

“YN-”

You flinched. 

“-who were you talking about?” Though it was a question, he more demanded the answer than asked for it, because Billy would be damned if he had to listen to you and your friend giggle and jabber about your feelings for any guy that wasn’t him. 

Just the thought of another boy in the class catching your eye in general made him feel angry. 

No, maybe not angry. Sick was more like it. You weren’t his, and he knew that—fuck, he knew that all too well. He wouldn’t let it be that way for long, though. 

For months he’d tried to take his mind off you and place it, force it, on someone else. But when girls at parties and in his car, in hotel rooms or in their own goddamn bedrooms couldn’t eliminate the picture of you hot-glued to the forefront of his mind—couldn’t erase your secret smile when Billy had Sharpied a dick on Mr. Morrison’s board, or your glare when he’d tugged your seat over to his for the first time, or that feeling of your hand overtop his when he’d tugged on your hair to distract you, to bring your attention back onto him—Billy knew he had to give up on getting over you. 

He’d finally accepted that his only course of action was to keep your eyes on him just as his were locked on you. It was only fair. 

“Nobody,” you huffed under your breath. “Why do you even care?”

The tension on Billy’s face softened, relaxed as he looked over your form appreciatively, licking his lower lip. ‘Heres’ and ‘Presents’ resounded about the pair of you as Billy released his grip on your seat’s backing, settling the same arm on his desk and reaching up a hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger. “Oh, no reason, babe, just making sure I’m still in your good graces is all.”

You scoffed and twisted in your seat, yanking his hand from your hair with a grip on his wrist. “Were you ever?”

Billy held your gaze while simultaneously imploring to whatever asshole wandered around in the sky that you would never release your hold on him, and he allowed his lips to curl up into a real smile. So long he went without ever letting that happen, and then you showed up and now he never wanted to stop. 

Just as Billy reached up to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, the teacher reared his ugly, bald, fucking bastard head. 

“YN, Billy,” Mr. Morrison called aloud, his tone on the latter’s name far more irritated, and, of course, you sat at attention, turning away from Billy and tearing your hand away from his wrist. “Pay attention, please.”

“Sorry, sir.”

And just like that, you slipped from his grasp. You ignored Billy’s every poking and prodding of his pencil in your back for the rest of class and focused rather on whatever the hell Morrison was on about, curled over your notebook with your head ducked low.

It was only when Billy sighed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms, chest tight, that he realized your friend was watching from the corner of her eye with a small grin. 

Until Billy flipped her the bird, then she scoffed and looked away too. 

By the end of class, Billy’s head was dropped back, mouth open and releasing soft snores. The bell ringing didn’t wake him; what did was your courteous kick to his foot in order for him to release your chair, which he did, so you could push your seat in. Then you smacked his forehead with your notebook for good measure. “Wake up, asshole, class is over.”

He grunted, swatting away the offender. “You’re so kind to me, babe,” he grumbled bitterly. “What would I do without you?”

“Considering you spend every waking minute in this class annoying me, I truly, honestly don’t know.”

Billy smirked at that, gaze latched onto your form as you walked away side-by-side with your friend, whom you seemed to be shaking your head at. Sluggishly and with a yawn, he rose to his feet, lugging his bag over his shoulder and following your path out of the classroom. 

He lingered behind a few steps, stopping only to lean against a water fountain and pull a pack of Marlboros from his back jean pocket. He swiped the cigarette across his bottom lip before slotting it in the corner of his mouth and reaching for his lighter. 

“That’s not what this is,” you groaned, fiddling with the combination of your locker. 

Your friend hummed sarcastically, a mocking “Totally” on her lips from Billy’s distance away. He could barely hear the two of you, especially through the thick crowd of students flooding the halls, rushing to their cars and buses to get the hell out of school. 

Of course, you were lagging behind to study in the library, and, of course, Billy would be there to bother you for the next half hour before “suddenly remembering” he had a date.

Fuck, he hated it. He hated himself, and how easily you wound him around your little finger. He used to wish you were cruel; some cold-blooded bitch to him so it would be so much easier to dismiss his feelings and walk away. Instead, you were kind. The only fucking person who could battle back against his attitude and yet still care about his wellbeing. How many times had you tugged a cigarette from his mouth with a small, disapproving grumble, or silently placed a water bottle on his desk when he’d enter the classroom reeling from the effects of the night before?

He'd never met anyone that was too good for him. Not since…

Fuck. He hated this.

How? How did you have that power over him? When did you ever have time to wrench your hand into his chest, break past his ribcage and grab a fistfull of his heart just to steal it out and shake it in front of him like some cruel game of fetch?

“Goddamnit,” he huffed, eyes narrowed at his lighter that sparked fruitlessly. One last click, though, and a flame bloomed in his hand. 

“I swear it’s not! The guy’s an asshole. You know my grade is actually dropping in that class?” You slammed your locker closed, armfuls of textbooks hugged to your chest. “It’s because of him. Pretty soon, I’ll have an A-minus. Do you know how long it’s been since I've had an A-minus in a class?”

“Not as long as you haven’t had a D.” 

You blanched, whole body flinching like you took a punch to the gut. “I-... you-... that was totally uncalled for.” Your friend snickered. 

Billy, meanwhile, had grown infinitely more interested in the conversation, so much so that he had almost coughed out the smoke in his lungs. His eyebrows raised as he watched a flush rise to your cheeks. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You pointed at her disapprovingly, but she only laughed more boisterously. 

“Oh, come on! Am I wrong?”

“Who cares about my…” you gestured at yourself wordlessly, floundering, “e-experience level? You really think that asshole is gonna solve that?”

“Easily.” 

You threw your arms in the air hopelessly at your friend’s deadpan, rolling your eyes. “No! Not happening! The only possible outcome is a newfound exposure to STDs.”

“Worth it.” Her hands snapped up in surrender at your glare. “Kidding. Just kidding.”

Slowly but steadily, the halls were clearing. Billy didn’t bother trying to disguise his watchful gaze as he inhaled another cloud of smoke, pulling the cigarette from his lips to tap the ashes out in the water fountain behind him. He let out the fumes in one long stream as he leaned a hip against the metal edge of the fountain, settling his other hand into a front pocket on his blue jeans. 

Billy waited, as he always did, like a predator ready to swoop in on his prey the second it was alone. Two blue eyes stay cemented on your form like a promise, a pledge of devotion. It was the yearning from afar that pained him the most, certainly because what excuse could he ever fabricate to explain himself? You hadn’t called his name—-your gaze hadn’t even accidently washed over him. You’d done nothing to gain his attention. You had done nothing but be, and for that, Billy was undeniably, absolutely addicted. 

He needed you.

Billy massaged two fingers at his temple, taking another drag with half-lidded eyes. 

“You better be.” You sighed, slamming your locker closed and clenching the straps of your backpack in your hands. “The day I actually throw myself into the arms of that aggravating jerk is the day I toss all of my self-respect in the trash.”

It’s me. It has to be.

She’s talking about-

“He’s not that bad if you think about it. Even you yourself said-”

“I know what I said,” you floundered, shoving a finger against her lips. “But—you know what—if we both ignore that I ever said it, then maybe, just maybe, my feelings will fade away, and we can both look back at my confession one day and laugh.” You pull your hand away from her, posing your hands on your hips righteously. “Laugh while knowing that my feelings for him were ridiculous and dumb and stupid and childish, and that I was just acting like a regular teenager with a little, stupid crush on some dumb boy-”

“You’re in love with Billy, aren’t you?” your friend deadpanned. 

Your face fell, and you pouted. “Yeah, fine, you’re right, I’ve got it bad.” 

-Me.

The cigarette fell from his lips, landing on the floor soundlessly. Billy stood at attention, his hand falling out of his pocket as the other dropped from his head. Love. YN is-

She’s in love with me.

All color in his cheeks disappeared, just as all the air in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, but in a good way, like the burn of surfacing from underwater for too long—like he was seconds away from the first gasp of fresh, sweet oxygen, after suffocating for so long.

He wanted this—fuck, he needed this. Who gave a damn if he deserved it or not, he was going to have you. You and the warmth of your hands; your smile and your laugh, all of your blushes and your tears.

All of it. Every single last ounce, he wanted it all.

He could fucking have it, too. 

She’s in love with me. 

Your friend grinned all too smugly. “You’re finally admitting it out loud, huh? Look at you, growing up right before my eyes. How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” you grumbled, still curled in on yourself, cheeks dusted pink.

“Your first real love confession to a boy.” She dropped both of her hands on your shoulders as your brows furrowed. 

“Does it really count if he’s not even here?”

“Nope,” she beamed, spinning you around in her grip. “Good thing he is!”

For a moment longer, you were still visibly confused at her words. The halls had long cleared, and the only sights and noises that now filled them were your wide eyes and quick gasp. 

“Billy.” His name slipped from your lips like an accident, tumbling out without a second thought and landing in the allconsuming silence of the hallway with a dull thud. 

He couldn't help it. God, he couldn’t fucking help it. 

The trembling that took hold of him, the shiver that began in the tips of his fingers and transferred up the length of his spine—he hated it because he had to hate it, but deep down he loved it more than anything else.

Because you were just so fucking perfect. 

Your eyes were glassy, like any second you were going to burst into tears. There was a small quiver of your lower lip, and, like a tidal wave, the overwhelming urge to feel that same quiver against his own lips, his skin, crashed into him. 

He really, really couldn’t help it. It was second nature. 

A corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glinted with condescension. “Is that right?” he hummed, amused. “Are you in love with me, YN?”

The pounding in his chest, the pregnant pause as he waited, the subtle, dizzying fog that began to flood his mind, all of it he ignored. He had to hear it. Say it again.

But he couldn’t help it, and the more your glistening eyes studied his face, tears threatening to overflow at the waterline, the more he could feel that sweet burn in his lungs turn painful once more. 

And it hurt so much worse when you twisted out of your friend’s hold and bolted. 

Your tennis shoes squeaked in protest against the vinyl composition tile, down the hallway and clear through the glass doors of Hawkins High, never turning back no matter how many times your friend called your name. 

When the doors slammed shut, a gust of wind followed and ruffled the stray curl against Billy’s forehead. The smirk had long fallen from his face. 

Your friend bit the inside of her cheek beside him, obviously searching for words of any kind to explain your reaction. “She’s just-… well, you kind of…” She huffed, adjusting her backpack straps against her shoulders. “Look, she’ll be back on Monday. She wouldn’t skip school, even out of embarrassment like that.” She threw him a sidelong glance. “Though, maybe next time you don’t respond like that, right?”

Billy’s face hardened, and he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He slotted a smoke in the corner of his lips. “Who gives a shit?” 

Your friend pursed her lips, observing as he struggled once more with his lighter. He gripped it with white knuckles, and the butt of his cigarette was crushed between his teeth. “Right,” she nodded with a sigh. “See you Monday.” Her footsteps trailed down the hall and away.

When the doors shut after her too, Billy spat out the smoke, hurling his lighter down the hallway with bared teeth. “FUCK!”

Monday. Fucking Monday?

Billy wrenched two hands in his hair, his nostrils flaring as he gnawed on his lips. It hurt, it all fucking hurt. Everything. 

She left, she fucking left. She ran away from you, and you know why too—it’s because you’re so weak. Why the hell would she ever want to be with someone like you? How could she ever be in love with-

Billy paused, his hands falling from his scalp, his shoulders rolling back. His head raised, slowly. 

Fine, you could have until Monday. But on that day, he was getting some fucking answers. 

The weekend didn’t pass by quick enough, despite Billy not remembering most of it. He recalled the party he attended that Friday night, the keg and the shots and what must have been some girl trying her best to come onto him. He remembered shoving her off one minute with a snarl and thundering towards his car, and then the next he was waking up in his own bed. He remembered working out and drinking Saturday and Sunday away, and he remembered waking up Monday with a healing bruise on his cheek, his father none too impressed that he’d drunk all the beer in the house in the span of two days. 

But who fucking cared, right?

Who gave a shit when his Camaro came squealing into the school parking lot, stopped parallel between three spots? Who gave a shit when he ambled Hawkins High halfway through the school day, his shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his cologne wafting after him everywhere he went?

And who gave a shit when he arrived in Mr. Morrison’s class, early for the first time in the six months he’d been in it, and planted himself in his seat, his legs kicked up on his desk, his arms folded up behind his head, blue eyes carefully watching the doorway. 

Because, yeah, you’d ran away from him. But you’ve been doing that for so long now, dancing out of his reach each time he wanted you, twisting out of his grip each time he almost had you. This was the first time you’d ever escaped him knowingly. 

Finally, he knew you loved him, and once more you got away. 

Of course, your little game of cat and mouse had to end like this—it had to end with him catching you. 

And catch you he did. 

God, you were so fucking beautiful, it actually made him ache. Your friend was shoving you in through the classroom door, two hands braced against your back despite you trying to wriggle away like a loose fish. 

Your face was red, completely, utterly red, like you’d just come back from running a marathon. Your eyes were darting around frantically, from the desks to the ceiling, and he knew you were actually considering your chances of escaping through an air vent. 

She’s in love with me.

He didn’t care. Suddenly, at the sight of you, he just didn’t fucking care anymore. He didn’t care that you ran, about the turmoil you’d caused him, about the misery that had been his weekend away from you. 

He couldn’t care for anything less because the second your eyes landed on him in that classroom and you let out the softest little squeal, all he knew was you, you, you.

So fucking cute.

Billy kicked his feet off his desk, reaching forward and pulling out your chair before patting the seat backing suggestively. Like clockwork, his smirk reformed on his face, a small glimmer of patronizing amusement in his eyes. 

“Come on, babe,” he simpered at you. “Don’t be shy. Take a seat.”

Come back to me. I need you.

Your eyes widened, and you squirmed in her grip once more. “Nope, I can’t do this.”

“Hush up and go.” One big shove from your friend and you were stumbling forward, scrambling to regain your balance. 

Billy silently urged you closer, gesturing down at your seat with his hands the closer you shuffled toward him. As he did, he drank in the sight of you, flushed and skittish, stumbling toward him like a baby deer on new, unsteady legs. He noticed the darkened skin under your eyes, most likely matching his own, though he doubted you and him were sleepless for the same reasons. 

When you ground to a halt in front of him, you gulped, your attention everywhere but on his face. 

“Hey, YN,” he practically purred, hands itching to reach out to you. 

“Hello, Billy,” you squeaked, dropping into your seat and gripping the bottom in an effort to slide the chair forward. Very quickly, though, you discovered Billy’s boot was already perched around the chair’s footing, and one hand had an iron grip on its back. 

“Going somewhere?”

“I guess not.”

Billy hummed. “I think you have something to say to me.”

“Umm nope, don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, no need to be shy. I just wanna hear you say it,” he prompted, as his other hand glided up, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Tell me how you feel about me, YN.”

“I think you’re a jerk,” you whispered, turning back slightly to fix him with a flimsy glare. 

“Besides that. Tell me what you told me Friday, before you ran.” He tugged at the strand of hair, his brows raised expectantly. 

“I didn’t mean it-”

“Don’t-” Billy gritted his teeth, his hand leaving your hair to grip your chin, turning you to face him. “Don’t say that.” He watched as your eyes grew damp again, all soft and delicate and one small admonition away from bursting into tears. 

You were so fragile, so small in his eyes. It often made him wonder why he ever thought he should be the one you should be with. How could he ever hold you in his arms without tarnishing you?

So badly, he thought he wanted to have you just to dirty you, take away that purity that seemed to hover over your head, but there were some days where he knew that all he wanted from you was to make him believe he could hold on to something so clean.

He wanted it. So, so bad, he wanted whatever you would offer him. He wanted to hear those words straight from your lips. 

Your cheeks were so hot, he itched to cradle them in his palms and absorb some of that warmth. He wanted to wipe away all of the tentativeness with the pads of his fingers and leave behind the breathlessness, the pure affection that was its source. 

“You just want to laugh at me,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking. “You’re just going to tease me about it like you do with everything else.” You swept a hand underneath your eyes. “You’re so cruel, Billy.”

“Stop-” he hissed and shook his head, gritting his teeth. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all I’ve ever wanted is for you to love me back, you don’t get to fucking say that.” Billy seized your wrist, tugging you closer. “I know what I am. I know what I do.”

His pride was wilting away the more he spoke to you, the longer you didn’t pull away from him, and his mind pounded in indignation. At what point did you turn him into a complete lovesick fool, and was it before or after you first smiled at him?

If your wide-eyed look was any indication of your shock at his feelings, he wondered just how baffled you would be once you discovered his willingness to bend over backwards at your every plea. You would never take advantage of him, and he knew that, but the tendrils of doubt still crawled up his spine at the thought of leaving himself so vulnerable for you. 

 “But you, YN?” He traced his eyes over your face, huffing softly. “In all my life, I’ve never wanted something more.”

You stared at him, open mouthed. Your gaze was so surprised, so innocent that it actually frustrated him. How could you have not seen? How could you be so blind?

“So don’t you fucking say that it’s cruel of me, or selfish, or some other bullshit.”

You gasped when he tugged you closer by the wrist, his other hand encompassing your cheek. 

“Just say it again.”

His eyes darted over your face, desperate.

“Please.”

Your eyebrows twitched up at that, and your gaze grew tender, raking over his face slowly as if committing to memory. You paused at his lips, watching as they parted and pursed against one another. 

You’d worn him down. You’d exhausted him, mentally and physically. Of all the months he’d waited for your confession like this, he never thought the last few moments would be the most excruciating of them all. What more did you want from him? Already, he could feel the swell of anger at his throat ready to be unleashed, to lash out at you until you were in steady tears again just so he knew exactly what you were feeling once more. Billy wanted—no, needed—some part of you to be under his thumb, just so he could pretend, if even for a second, that your emotions for him were still in his range of sway.

Instead, his heart stuttered when the hand in his grip wormed away and pulled off the other that was at your cheek. You splayed his hand out on the surface of his desk, then you intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. Your teeth worried at your bottom lip as you ducked your head. 

“I’m in love with you, Billy.”

His eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally. Fucking Finally.

You were his, completely. 

He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t.

His hand found your chin, and he tipped your head up, gaining your attention.

“I fucking knew it,” he simpered, entirely too smug. And when you tried to scramble away, panicked and scared, his hand found the back of your neck and tugged you close, his lips landing on yours. 

In his hold, you grew lax, only your hand tensing around his. Your lips didn’t move against his, seemingly too tentative and inexperienced to truly indulge yourself.

Billy grinned into the kiss, far more pleased than anyone should be at the knowledge that he could leave marks on you in so many more ways than one. When he pulled away, he quickly cupped your face with a hand, thumbing at your lips in search of the remainder of his own warmth. 

“Library, after school?” he muttered, his mouth still curved.

“Only if you don’t have a date afterwards,” you grumbled. You could sass him all you wanted, and Billy couldn’t care less. He could hear your breathlessness and feel the heat in your cheeks, and pride flared in him knowingly. 

“Well, I might-”

“Are you guys done yet? ’Cause that was kinda gross.” Your friend dropped into the seat beside you, her nose wrinkled. You straightened up, unraveling yourself from Billy’s hold and nodding your head.

“Yep, yeah, definitely all done. Totally.” 

And just like that, you were gone. Billy bristled at your instantaneous lack of touch and threw a snarl at your friend, who only shrugged. 

Then she held out a hand, brows raised expectantly. 

“You owe me.”

Billy rolled his eyes, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and rifling through it, passing her a ten dollar bill. 

“Keep the change.”

“With pleasure.”

He Has a Nightmare About You (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: started watching this show for momma Steve, stayed for the other, also hot characters. Don’t judge me if a vecna version of this comes out soon👀 Enjoy!

Billy Hargrove:

He dreams of you often, but never quite like this.

You’re in his arms; his lips are on yours, and your hands are in his hair. 

When he pulls away, it’s to brush a strand back from your face, pushing it behind your ear while gazing into your eyes. A smile is on his face, inherently small and lopsided, but genuine. 

It’s one of those times where he can’t believe how happy you make him, how much he loves you. You turn him into a teenage boy with a puppy crush all over again, but as long as no one else is around, he doesn't mind that one bit. Vulnerability did not come easy to him, but with you, he’d tear down every wall he’d ever put up just to get closer to you. Just to hold onto you that much longer. 

“Billy…” you hum, your hands coming up to cover his own along your cheeks. He feels infinitely warmer, more relaxed at your touch, and he leans that much closer to you. 

“YN…” Billy drawls back teasingly, blue eyes soft and expectant on yours. Your breath ghosts over his lips, and fuck if he didn’t hate that you made a shiver roll down his spine. 

“I hate you.”

His smile falters. “What?”

You tug his hands off your face, leading them to drop to his sides before stepping back. You shake your head. “I hate you, Billy.” 

Billy’s body grows cold. His lips part as he searches for words, eyes raking over your face for any hint of jest. “This isn’t funny, YN.” He lets out a breathless laugh, but it’s dull and fake and trying to draw some sort of usual response from you. 

“It’s not supposed to be. I’m serious, Billy.” 

His nostrils flare, and he wants to be angry. He wants to grab you and pull you back into his chest and make you wish you’d never said those words, make you wish you never hurt him, make you promise that you’d never hurt him like this again. 

You said that once, that you’d never hurt him like he has been before. You promised.

He bites into his bottom lip, willing a level of restraint, or rather, indifference. 

She promised.

Time moved slowly the second you pulled away from him. Carefully, your arms came up to cross over one another at your chest. Your eyes hardened, not angry or frustrated, but certainly more serious and intentional from when you had said his name earlier. 

He’d never seen you so cold—not at him. 

“What changed?” The words slipped from his lips, but the second they did, he didn’t bother fighting to take them back. He felt trapped in his own skin, unable to escape the anger, the hatred, the i that coursed through veins. “Why now, I mean, after-” he cut himself off with a scoff, bitterly licking his lips, “-after fucking everything we’ve been through together, you just, what, hate me?”

He hated it, this. He hated you, and he’d never done that before. Even the thought of his betrayal being directed toward you made him feel sick. She promised.

Billy looked away, wrenching a hand through his hair and not bearing to stare at you when he spoke. “You- God,” the corners of his eyes pricked, “you said you loved me. What happened to that?” He glanced at you, hating, hating, hating that you were making him feel this fucking way. Throat tightening, he barked out, “What fucking happened to that?!”

“I don’t love you, Billy,” you muttered, seemingly unaffected by his display of emotions. “I could never.”

And you saw it. He knew you saw it. He knew you saw it because he wiped it away, and your eyes had followed his hand as he had. 

He was crying. Goddammit, he was so fucking weak. 

Despite it all, despite every single horrible moment in his life, he never knew the feeling of true despair until you were taking your love for him back and saying it wasn’t real. 

“Billy, come on.” Your tone was persuasive, placating like you were trying to reason with him. You were talking to him as though you were telling a child that Santa or the Easter Bunny wasn’t real, that they never were, and they never will be. 

You used that same soothing, calming tone the first time you tried to convince Billy that you did love him. He remembered your exact words. “I love you, and no matter how much you fight me on it, I won’t let you take that away from me.” You had been caressing a fresh bruise on his cheek, and the kiss you had left there had overpowered the pain of his father’s wound. 

“Don’t,” Billy mumbled. “Stop.”

Don’t corrupt that voice, he pleaded, though the words wouldn’t escape him. Don’t take that away from me.

“Billy.” You drew his attention back to you, and, despite the stiffness of his cheeks and lips, he sneered at your pitying gaze. “Be realistic. How could I have ever loved you?”

“Stop.”

“Your father hates you, Billy.” Your voice raised, eyes burning with a new fire into his own watery ones. “Your own mother left you. Do you know what that makes you?”

“Stop.”

“Do you know what that makes you, Billy?” you demanded, teeth bared. “It makes you unloveable.”

“STOP!”

“Billy?”

“STOP!” Billy flinched awake, sweat dripping down his forehead and spine, shivering at the breeze of his bedroom. Chest heaving, his eyes were wild and unfocused as they darted about the dark room, few objects such as his dresser and desk only visible due to the moonlight filtering through his window. 

Sighing heavily, Billy dragged his hands down his face, groaning softly and massaging his temples. 

“What a fuckin’ nightmare,” he grumbled before peering over at you. 

You, still curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully. Your hair splayed out along one of his pillows, one of his shirts wrinkled and twisted around your form, your leg still crooked over his hips. 

You were still his. Thank fuck, you were still his. 

“YN,” he shook you awake, one hand on your shoulder.

You hummed in your sleep, lips twitching downwards at the disturbance. “Wha…?” you grumbled, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Babe, c’mon, let’s go for a drive. Wake up.”

“Nooooo,” you moaned. 

“Yessss.”

“Can I sleep on the drive?”

He raised a brow. “You think you’ll be able to?”

One eye of yours peeked open, focusing on him instantly. You pouted.

Billy’s chest tightened, but for the first time since the dream, he felt like he could breathe. Thank God. He was not going to sleep another wink tonight. Not in that damned house, at least. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll go. Stop giving me your little puppy dog eyes.” You rolled off the bed, falling onto the floor with a thud before rising to your feet and wrapping a blanket around your head and shoulders like a cloak. “But there are ground rules, mister.” You held up your hand to him. “One, you can’t drive over 30 miles an hour. Two, no loud music- or, wait, no music at all-”

“What?”

“-Three, only for the next hour or so, then we’re going back to my place to go to sleep.” You gave him a pointed look. “Deal?”

His lips sloped into his usual smirk as he rose to his feet, arms instantly moving to wrap around your waist and tug you into his chest, close and tight. 

“Deal.”

You. You, you, you. God, he never wanted to think about that nightmare again, and if he never again heard the words “I hate you” fall from your lips, even as a joke, it would be too soon. You were still his, and he knew, he fucking knew, dammit, that you loved him.

“Why are you so sweaty?”

“Don’t ask.”

Steve Harrington: 

“Steve,” Robin muttered softly. Her gaze was downcast, and she had one arm around the front of his chest and shoulders, trying to hold him back and redirect him. “Don’t look.”

“What’s going on?” He tried to peer around the others, all of whom either had their backs turned or looked at him mournfully. “Hey, what’s-” he tried to push past Robin, but Dustin rushed forward to help stop him, “-what the hell is going on?! Guys?!”

They all stood in a half circle around… something, he couldn’t see what. The kids and Nancy and Goddamn everyone except-

“YN,” Steve breathed out in realization. His heart was stuck in his throat, and the pounding of his own blood drowned out the quiet whispers of the others. “No. No, no, no, no—NO!” He shoved past the pairs of arms, pushing past a tearful Max and a sobbing Eleven, only to feel his whole body flinch back at the sight. 

“YN,” he whispered again, horrified at the sight, not wanting to believe it. “Oh God, oh fuck, oh God.”

Blood was- was everywhere. Steve’s knees wobbled and gave out as he collapsed into the forest floor beside you. His hands hovered over your body, feeling the heat rolling off it in waves from the gushes of hot, crimson liquid seeping from obscured wounds. A pool of it, he realized, dampened the knees of his jeans, cooling against his skin. 

“Steve,” you whimpered, “I’m scared. It hurts so bad.” You trembled, hands curled into tight fists as you clenched your eyes shut, tears trailing down into your sweat-soaked hair. 

“This isn’t right—you can’t… fuck.” He tore a hand through his brown tufts before springing into action, scraping himself along the damp soil to ease his legs underneath your back, your body lying perpendicular to his so he could lean your head in his lap. 

“YN, I…” he trailed off, gasping for air as his wavering hands encompassed your face. “I don’t know what to do,” he choked out helplessly. 

And you reached up to grasp his wrist, eyes so innocent and terrified. “Steve, please, I don’t wanna die.”

“This was never supposed to happen,” he rambled indignantly. “No no no because I was supposed to protect you because I always protect you, and now this is going so, so fucking wrong.” He felt the oncoming headache that arrived with fresh tears, the snot dribbling down his nose and onto his upper lip, the cold sweat that covered his body head to toe. He wanted to throw up and sob and hold you close and tight and never, never fucking let you go. 

His own heart, as you lay in his arms, was being ripped from his chest. No help was coming, there was no time to heal or press on what was already far too damaged to halt. You were… you were…

“Please,” you wailed, your screams echoing into the forest. He could hear the others shuffling around behind him, their own sobs fading into the mix. “No, please, I don’t wanna die! Steve, please!”

Steve could feel your cheeks getting colder, and he watched as your hands slowly began to unfurl at your sides. “YN, I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me, I can’t-” his own whimper cut himself off. 

“Steve,” you gasped for breath, your voice so small, so weak. “You said you would protect me.” The furrow in your brow smoothed itself out, and your chest began to slow its heaving movements. 

“I know, I know,” he weeped. “I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

“You love me?” you whispered back. Your eyes, that had been locked on his for so long, filled with fear and anguish, shifted away, losing themselves in the black sky above. A small smile broke out on your bloodstained lips. 

“YN?” Steve questioned fearfully, sniveling as he peeled the hair away from your face. 

“I never knew that you loved me, Steve.” A single tear broke loose from your eyelids as you let them droop closed. “I love…” You mouthed the word you before you sighed, your body finally losing all of its tension, its stress—its fear.

Steve let out a quivering breath, his hands cupping your cheeks swiftly. “YN? YN?!”

“Steve.” A hand pressed on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off viciously. 

“YN!” He peeled back your eyelids, blanching at the blank look in your irises. “No, no, come on, I was supposed to protect you!” he cried out hysterically. 

Steve’s body curled over yours like he was collapsing in on himself, mouth mumbling pleas as he slid a hand over your chest, above your heart. 

Nothing.

“Steve!” The hand on his shoulder was more insistent, shaking him back and forth violently. 

No. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not now, not yet.

“Steve, wake up!”

“What?” Steve’s eyes flew open, and his head straightened up from the back of the couch, causing Dustin to yelp and jump back in shock. 

“Jesus, what the fuck?!” the younger boy screeched, leaving Steve wincing and pressing two hands to his ears. 

“Goddamn,” he hissed, “You really need to hit puberty faster; these voice cracks of yours are gonna leave me deaf one of these days.”

“Well it’s not my fault you sleep like a bear in hibernation.”

“Ew, what? That's disgusting, Dustin,” Steve grimaced. 

Dustin facepalmed. “You’re thinking of ‘heat,’ genius, I said ‘hibernation.’”

Steve faltered, nodding absentmindedly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, anyways,” he rolled his eyes, “you better head home.”

“Movie night over already?” Steve dug his palms against his eyes, trying harshly to wipe away the image of—er, that happening to you—from his mind. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dustin deadpanned, “Princess Leia changed out of her bikini about two hours ago, but I’m glad you were paying attention.”

“Well, look, if it makes you feel any better, the dream I just had was terrible,” Steve groaned, rising up from the coach and grabbing his jacket off the coffee table. 

“Yeah, I heard. Something about ‘oh no’ and ‘don’t leave’ and ‘YN, YN, YN.’” The tween rolled his eyes. “Dude, if you ask me, I’d say just ask her out already, ‘cause your pining from a distance is getting pretty depressing.”

Steve stared at him with pursed lips and blank, dead eyes. 

Then he fondled for his car keys in his jacket pocket and huffed. “Yep, I’m gonna go. See ya around, Henderson.”

“I’m serious, Steve!” Dustin called after him. “It’s getting creepy! Why don’t you just tell her that you’re absolutely whipped for-”

Steve slammed the door of his house, trekking towards his car while grumbling under his breath. “Frickin’ Dustin. I’m not whipped. Nobody,” he slid into the seat of his car, staring into the rearview mirror and adjusting it, “nobody has ever had me…” he paused, staring at his bloodshot eyes, at his tear-stained cheeks. 

“Fuck.” He glanced back at Dustin’s house, its windows still open and flashing with the action of a movie.

Goddammit, Henderson. 

Steve put his car into drive, pulling out of the driveway and onto the street, but when he slowed at his usual turn, he slammed the brakes on the car instead and stared at the sign of the intersecting street. 

You lived almost two blocks from there—Steve never realized that. 

He could—no, no he couldn’t. It was the middle of the night, around eleven o’clock according to his dash, so why in the world did he have the right to wake you up for news like that?

It can wait. His feelings can wait.

He said those exact words ten more times as he drove to your house, clumsily throwing it into park alongside the sidewalk in front of your home. He knew which window corresponded with your room, as aside from being the group babysitter and helicopter mother, he was also the chauffeur. 

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of his car, slamming the door shut. “This is so dumb; this is a terrible idea. One of the worst, actually.” 

But he picked up the pebble out of your garden and chucked it at your window anyway, pure adrenaline launching the rock at a high speed and making perfect contact with the middle of the glass.

It also left a sizable crack.

“Oh shit,” Steve hissed under his breath, hands flying up to his hair as he saw your light switch on. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The window slid up, and before he knew it, your glare found his form. Your head was leaned outside of the window, hands braced against the sill as you whisper-shouted at him. “Seriously, Steve?! What the fuck?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he jogged closer to your house, questioning scaling the side to climb into your window, but then he noticed your tangled, matted hair and nightshirt. “Yeah, that’s my bad, I, uh,” he chuckled nervously, “sometimes I forget my own strength.” He shrugged lamely. 

You gestured angrily at the window. “How the hell am I supposed to fix this?”

This is going so wrong. Dammit, he knew this wouldn’t go well. 

“YN,” he called out to you, trying to get your attention as you investigated the crack with a sigh. 

“What, genius? Got another grand idea?” you snarked. “Why don’t you go break the locks off my front door too while you're at it-”

“YN, I’m in love with you.”

You choked on your next words, eyes flying open. “What?!”

“I’m just- I’m in love with you, and I really wanted you to know that.”

While he shifts back and forth on his feet, your mouth bobs open and closed. 

“Are you serious?” you finally land on. 

“Don’t call me Shirley?” he offered back lamely, and you dragged a hand down the front of your face. 

Nonetheless, you wore a wide, abashed grin. “You’re a goddamn fool, Steve Harrington.”

Steve shook his head and smiled at that. “Only for you, babe.”

“Now go home and go to sleep so I can kiss you tomorrow, dumbass,” you waved him away. 

A stupid, lovesick smirk took over his face, painting him the absolute dope you always pegged him as. “Sounds like a plan, doll.” He spun around, swallowing a large gulp of air and wondering if you could see the way his hands shook as he unlocked his car. 

“Steve! Wait!”

 He turned back, almost too eager, to see a large blush blooming on your face in the light of your room. “I love you too.”

What a horrible, terrible, shitty-ass, perfectly timed nightmare.

I think is pretty obvious who is my fav character; Steve Harrington is in my mind 24/7, but I love him not just because of him but because of the concept of him.

It's easy to put anything you want in him. Like. All the interpretations people have about his parents? YES, good, make total sence. Why? Because we don't know anything about them, except for one or two things and that's just for what Steve had said.

Him knowing characters that barely interacted with him? It's not like we have seen a lot of him out side of the upside down problems.

More trauma than the series show? I mean, they already ignore the trauma he has endure through out all the seasons, what's some more.

Steve being a pretty decent guy even before canon contrary of what they want us to belive? It's not like they showed us a lot of bully qualities of him.

Like- yes, i know you can mold all the characters You like into what you want but how much until is a completely different character? Steve is very versatil, you can change A LOT about him, put as many headcanons as you want and still have a resemblence of what makes Steve Steve.

It's no surprise people love him, he can be a lot of things, anything you want and still make sense that is him.

Punk! Steve? YES.

Teacher! Steve? Give it to me.

Hairdresser! Steve? There is not enough of him.

Baker! Steve? I need more of him.

Athlete! Steve? Of course.

Rock Star! Steve? Yeah, why not.

Actor! Steve? He's been acting half his like, why don't make a profession out of it.

Single parent! Steve? There is a lot of ways to make it happened!

Gay! Steve? Comphet is a bitch.

Bisexual! Steve? Have you seen all his homoerotic scenes?

Trans! Steve? Either way you want him, that guy's gender is funky.

HoH! Steve / Deaf! Steve? That boy has more than enough head trauma to last a life.

007! Steve? Maybe he just doesn't remember his childhood, like El; maybe he was a failed experiment.

Just- do you catch what i'm trying to say?

Hellfire Adopts Steve Pt. 2

Pt 1

Eddie may be repeating his senior year, but he's no idiot. He's intuitive, a quick thinker, and generally, he's an excellent judge of character. Which is exactly why he protested Gareth's decision to drag Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High and current King of Don't Fuck With Me, to lunch with Hellfire.

Jeff and Freak are both genuinely terrified to have His Royal Highness picking at subpar mashed potatoes in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from them; to his credit, Steve Harrington seemed unbothered by the situation, even as Princess Nancy Wheeler and her own little pet outcast Jonathan pass him on the way to their own table. Eddie watches with growing interest as Steve boredly ignores Nancy's attempt to catch his eye (it's almost hilarious- he'd been at the Halloween party last month where Nancy got absolutely shitfaced and then screamed at Steve in front of the entire student body, and yet here they are, Nancy trying awkwardly to speak to Steve and Steve resolutely going about his business).

Gareth stammers through a story about their latest DnD campaign, his round face practically glowing with excitement as he uses the peas on his tray to illustrate what their party had been up against. Eddie fully expects Steve to say something rude, dousing Gareth's smile and deserving every bit of ire Eddie can muster, but Steve just smiles at Gareth and ruffles his hand through the unkempt curls Eddie's been trying to get Gareth to take care of.

From there it only gets weirder. Steve seems to have taken a real shine to Gareth and is nothing short of a perfect gentleman to Jeff and Freak, but he loves to bicker with Eddie. Honestly, Eddie's impressed at just how much Steve seems to like bitching at people.

Steve is also surprisingly responsible? After that first lunch, Steve is around all the time; he shows up to Hellfire meetings with his backpack full of homework and a Tupperware full of something delicious (Eddie had nearly cried the first time he took a bite of Steve's macaroni), only to completely ignore their entire session to study. Occasionally, the walkie Steve carries with him whenever they aren't in school will crackle to life, and Steve will make himself scarce pretty quickly.

Overall, Steve is awesome. Eddie hates to admit it, but watching such a prim and proper guy emotionally destroy someone for commenting on Freak's size, and Eddie just knows that the damage done to Tommy Hagan's car after Gareth showed up to Hellfire with a busted lip and glassy eyes was Steve's fault.

========

Steve is actually really enjoying his time in Hellfire. He doesn't really mention it to the kids, and both Nancy and Jonathan are still avoiding him, so Steve sees it as a win: he gets to make friends who haven't seen him get his ass beat by interdimensional horrorterrors that have ruined dogs and flowers for him forever, he gets to learn more about the game his new little brother is obsessed with, and innocent kids don't have to bear the brunt of King Billy's reign of terror.

Gareth decides almost instantly that he likes Steve; not only because he saved Gareth from bullies or brings them food better even than Wayne Munson's, but because Steve always listens to his DnD stories. Jeff and Freak (who Steve will only refer to by his Government Name, Melvin) grow to like him as well, not at all encouraged by the food Steve brings or (on one memorable occasion) the incredibly realistic melee weapon, straight out of a flick like Red Dawn, that they found under his seat one day.