a collection of everything i've written about billy hargrove. imagines/oneshots/stories, whatever you would prefer to call them. all fics are either fem!reader or gn!reader.
none of the gifs i use are mine! credit to the original sources/owners!
word count: 1,610 warnings: swearing, grief, allusions to depression, mentions of death a/n: this is the saddest thing i've written so far. i hurt my own feelings. so, i apologize in advance. i also just finished People We Meet On Vacation, so there might be a reference. xx
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Max was next. She knew she was. It was just a matter of time. She wanted to let it all out, considering she was seemingly shit at sharing her feelings these days. So she wrote letters. To everyone she cared about. Including one she set aside for you.
"East Hawkins? Wait, why are we going to East Hawkins?" Steve questioned this field trip, not wanting to go anywhere—risk anything.
"We're making a pit stop first. Near Dustin's. It's not far."
You were on the couch, cocooned in layers of sweats you hadn't washed since who-knew-when, and more blankets than you'd realized you had. Including that goddamn green one that you couldn't seem to part with for anything, except when you actually, really had to leave the house.
There was knock at the door. "Y/N? It's me. It's Max."
You got up, answering the door, only then realizing that you hadn't brushed your hair in days. But you didn't care. You couldn't find much to care about at all anymore. Not since him.
"Hey. Wow. You look worse and than I do." That was one thing grief had not taken from Max Mayfield: her incredible ability to be completely blunt. But there was a smile creeping up at the corners of her mouth, and she pulled you in for a hug.
It was a lingering one. Neither of you had been properly hugged in a very long time.
"Um, I'm going to see him today. Do you want to come?" She asked you, fidgeting with the cord to her headphones that was hanging out of her bag.
The question took you by surprise, considering you'd only ever gone alone. But you weren't going to pass up an opportunity. Especially when Max looked like this, and based on the boys watching the two of you in the car, there was something going on. And you had this sickening feeling that you knew what it was. So of course you were going to go.
"What are you holding?" You asked, brown paper catching your eye, and bringing a stinging sensation to your chest.
"This is for you. It's a fail safe. If you're coming, we can explain everything. If—if not, then..." Max looked at you like she was afraid of what would happen if you weren't there.
You took the letter from her, seeing your name scrawled on the envelope. You realized your hands were shaking. "I wrote them for everyone. Everyone that matters to me. I wrote him one. So that's why I'm going to see him." Max wasn't looking at you anymore, just staring at her feet.
"Can you wait here a second?" You left the door open, going back inside to put real pants on and tie your hair up. You grabbed a folded paper from your dresser and went back to meet her. She noticed what you had, her brows furrowing.
