While there is a sense of vanity in how he sees himself, and how he drinks in on the attention girls & older women have given him, that attention is often coupled with the idea of Billy making himself of great sexual appeal to others, particularly women— even though he’s a teenager in high school.

A part of it can be a subconscious thing he does. Seeking that attention and treating it like it’s affection, and/or love of any kind, especially when in the absence of a missing mother figure. A part of it can be a way to perform; to make his dad believe that the queer has been beaten out of Billy after all. A part of it can also be something deeper — something relating to the concept of hypersexuality. Or perhaps having a twisted sense of what is love and what is lust. A way to cope and keep his mind off things. Whether it would be his father’s fist, his mother’s abandonment, his deadly anger, his little boy crushes, his self-loathing, no self-worth…

It can be all of it. Any of it.

        How odd it is, to be getting married. And to Eddie Munson, of all men.

        As happy as the day was, Chrissy found her head aching as her heart swelled till it felt like a balloon ready to burst. Marriage. The last she had remembered, her body was broken, yet here she was, dressed in a beautiful gown with a bouquet mere feet away from her. An Abatina poked out from the other flowers - a Belladonna here, a Butterfly Weed there, some Chives - and fell onto the floor. It made no noise, yet Chrissy flinched. 

        The clock ticked by as she stared at it as if expecting something to spring from it, though she knew it was virtually impossible. Since when was she getting married? She couldn't even remember. None of the days held shape in her memory. No dates, no kisses. What happened to Hawkins High? Had she graduated? She couldn't remember. Perhaps that was the most terrifying part. She couldn't remember. It's not superstitious to assume that her flying act might've blanked some memory, but she would much rather knock on wood than take that for truth. 

        It wasn't just cold feet. That she was sure of. 

        The street outside the window was that of a town she had never seen before. It wasn't Hawkins. Even without setting foot on those sidewalks, she knew it wasn't Hawkins. No weeds bursting from the fractures in the stone, no nosy neighbors . . .

        Who was invited to the wedding?

        There was a knock on the door, to which she clamped her hand over her mouth and stifled her breathing. 

        "Chrissy?"

        It was Eddie. God, it was Eddie. He'd never be in suit-and-tie, never. And this dress? Itchy and certainly not her color. 

        "The wedding is gonna start soon, y'know. Up and at 'em!" 

        There was a brief pause, and she could swear she heard him audibly deflate. What happened to his usual enthusiasm? Why wasn't he putting up a fight with this?

        " . . . I'll see you down there." 

        As soon as his footsteps echoed from below her, she stood, rushing to the closet and flipping through drawers. Nothing. Why was there nothing? Surely there had to be something. Then she looked in the mirror. And then down at herself. She was wearing a silky, shimmering white gown paired with opera-length gloves and a headband. But in the mirror? Oh, in the mirror her eyes were fogged a quiet white, and she was still in her cheer uniform. 

        Slowly, the pieces began falling into place. And so she fisted the sides of her gown, pulled them up and pushed past the door, running for what she hoped could become freedom.

ೃ ✦ ✧ ∗ ❥ ҉

        The chapel doors burst open and out came Chrissy, disheveled with tears staining her cheeks. The organ began its dance of a jointed future yet she paid it no mind. The guests watched, faces blank except for a smile. There was Heather Holloway, waving giddily. Nearer to the front was that Hargrove boy - hadn't he died? One of the few who didn't grin at her like some crazed maniac was a red-headed girl with a bob, and a man next to her, clutching a camera like it was his lifeline. Who were they? And at the front was Eddie, suit cleanly with a muted tie. There was no mention of Hellfire in sight. Even his hands lacked the infamous rings that he so-often wore. What she would do to feel those rings on her own hands, now. 

        The officiant, how odd he looked. Dressed in a brown suit with a red tie and a hat withholding his face from her eyes. He was blonde, that much she could gather, and clearly impatient. He kept checking his watch like he would soon be incredulously late for something. 

        Luckily for him, she'd waste no time.

        "Look, I'm all glad that so many of you came, though I really don't understand why so many of you came. I mean, I'm way too young to be getting married, I don't think this guy's ever even taken me on a date. Speaking of a date, how long has it been? The last thing I remember is passing out. And have any of you even looked in a mirror, God, I swear, you should look in a mirror!"

        Eddie reached out and grabbed her hand, making her wince. His grip wasn't that tight before, was it?

        "I don't wanna get married. I mean I do, but not like this. I don't like this dress, I didn't even pick those flowers! An Abatina, seriously? Not my kind of flower! And for the love of God, it would never be Eddie. I mean maybe it would, but it wouldn't be this Eddie. Please, oh God, are any of you listening? Would you care right now if I left and got a christening? For the love of God, can we cancel the wedding? I am not getting married today!"

        She hadn't realized till she swallowed that she began to bleed. She wiped at her nose, pulling her hand away and seeing the stain. It was then that Eddie's hand loosened. 

        " . . . Chrissy?"

        A breath escaped her. It finally sounded like Eddie. Her Eddie. 

        Then she collapsed, her entire body buckling under some unforseen weight. The officiant was gone, but not fully. No. There, inches out of reach was a torn piece of paper. If she could only grab it, yet her muscles felt numb. She couldn't move. But Eddie could. And he lunged for it, ducking and rolling before standing with a bow. Most of the audience was unimpressed. Most. 

        "Eddie?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, while another voice raced to overpower her own. 

        "Munson! Unfold the goddamn paper!"

        Eddie flipped off the boy, who doubled it back at him, before opening it. Messily inscribed was a map. Not the kind of thing normally written down at a wedding - he expected a speech - but it was a welcome surprise.

        "M'lady, it appears we have been invited to an adventure of sorts." 

        Despite herself, Chrissy snorted, her laughter mixing with unexpected tears. Even more unexpected was the pair of arms that wrapped around to support her as that girl from before helped her stand. The man next to her gave some tips that she used to aid Chrissy before she finally smiled at her. A genuine smile. 

Like WDYM I was more upset about the image used for him in the credits that I was about the whole ass show ending

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Male Reader Summary: Words: 102/200 Warnings: none Notes: It sucks that I didn't hit my goal but today has been hard and I'm just happy I wrote something. Just sitting around and doing nothing is only going to make you feel worse and if you try

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

🕸“I’m not scared, shut up!” You were totally scared, your heart was hammering hard in your chest, waiting anxiously for the next scare worker to pop out from behind a wall or try to grab you from a window. You gripped Billy’s hand hard trying your best to play off your fear as something else but he could see right through you,

an 18-year-old lies to billy about where his little sister is and when confronted about the lie, responds with an insult (“were you dropped as a child” comment). steve offers no explanation as to why his sister is there, and has the audacity to expect that billy will just, what, leave his little sister with strangers? respond with “aw shucks, i guess you know better, harrington. you know my little sister already, even though she is a middle schooler and we’ve been in this town for a week…i suppose it’s normal for a person your age to be around 13-year-olds who aren’t related to you. i’ll just leave you to it.”

[i wonder if people who vilify billy in this moment have siblings. because if you think leaving a sibling behind in a clearly shady situation would’ve been reasonable and ok…i’m concerned for your siblings lmao i’m sorry but i am]

but anyway. the point of the post is: when it gets to the climax of the fight, he has the upper hand after being on equal footing (because hey, steve punched him first, remember? steve is not a saint in this situation, and many people [antis most of the time] talk about this fight as if steve wasn’t throwing punches).

i don’t know if anyone has ever been in a fight, i unfortunately have been in a handful, i have been where steve is, and let me tell you, this doesn’t look like someone who enjoys having the upper hand. dacre could’ve very well acted this part with billy’s ah ha ha ha laughter, maybe a hint of smug satisfaction, maybe continuous taunting.

but he didn’t for a reason. billy isn’t enjoying any of this. in this supposed triumphant moment for billy, anguish overcomes anger. this isn’t what he wanted. he didn’t go to the byers’ house looking for and planning a fight, he was looking for his god damn little sister.