Apr 2
stalker!Jonathan au
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stalker!Jonathan au
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2 hands but 0 jackets because his boyfriends keep stealing them <3
I think Jonathan should get really into making underground arthouse queer films and billy should be his muse 🥰
I think it should be a lot of study of the male physique and queer sexuality and billy being nude and touching himself and being touched but it’s never about a performance for the camera or for the audience it’s full voyeurism, it’s about capturing private moments and getting a glimpse behind the curtain and it almost has this day in the life vibe, which just happens to include sex
The Camaro idled like it had something to say, engine low and rumbling, heat bleeding up through the seats even with the windows cracked. Billy leaned back against the door, one arm draped over the wheel, the other holding the joint like it was an extension of his hand. Jonathan sat close—closer than necessary—knees angled toward Billy’s, the air inside the car already hazy and sweet with good weed and summer dust. Somewhere outside, Hawkins kept breathing. In here, time slowed to a lazy crawl.
Jonathan took a drag and coughed, smiling into his sleeve like he was embarrassed by it. Billy laughed—soft, surprised, nothing like the bark he used on the world—and reached over without thinking, steadying Jonathan’s wrist as he passed the joint back. Their fingers brushed. Barely. Just enough to notice. Billy didn’t pull away. Neither did Jonathan. The contact lingered, electric and stupid and loud in a way neither of them commented on.
They talked in half-sentences and pauses. About music. About nothing. About how some nights still felt wrong, like the dark was waiting for permission to crawl back in. Jonathan listened when Billy’s voice dropped, when the jokes fell away, when the silence stretched long enough to mean something. He didn’t flinch when Billy’s knee bumped his, didn’t move when Billy’s hand stayed resting there like it belonged.
The joint burned down to a roach between Billy’s fingers. Smoke curled around them, softening the sharp edges of everything that had happened before. When Jonathan reached over to flick ash out the window, his hand brushed Billy’s again—knuckles this time, deliberate or not, who could say—and Billy turned just enough for their shoulders to press together. The Camaro hummed beneath them, steady and warm.
Later, Billy would think about how that night rewired something in him. How recovery didn’t come with fireworks or apologies or grand gestures—just a parked car, good weed, and a boy who stayed. How summer of ’85 cracked open right there in the front seat, hands touching like it was nothing, like it was everything.
Jonathan taking will to nyc pride which is going all well and good until they look up and there dancing half naked on a float in just a pair of tighty whities and angel wings is billy Hargrove…who is supposed to be dead…but is very much alive. And gay, apparently.
Jonathan’s gotta find the nearest payphone and call Steve so he can alert max. After he watches the full performance tho. You know, just to make sure it’s really him…
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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i have a great idea to fix the stancy jancy whatever love triangle which consists of putting billy hargrove in the middle of steve and jonathan and letting it play out challengers style
Why is he literally in billys outfit #byergroveconfirmed
Dear Jonathan Byers by @kittyphoenix12-xx
it's my second art for kitty's byergrove fic for @st-rarepairbang! it can be found in chapter 7. and yes i'm always looking for an excuse to put jonathan in an r.e.m. t-shirt.
also on ao3 & bluesky