#billy hargrove reader insert

[castielscaplan]

Braids and Soft Things (Billy Hargrove)

Summary: Billy watches as you braid his sister's hair.

Warnings: all the fluff, billy's not a douchebag in this

WC: 1.5K

Read on ao3!

A/N: dedicated to my fellow Billy lover @fandom-princess-forevermore

--

Billy’s legs were stretched out on your bed, one arm slung lazily behind his head, a cigarette burning slow between his fingers, though you’d already given him The Look for lighting it inside.

“Seriously, ash on my comforter and I’m throwing you out the window,” you’d muttered.

He just grinned, half-lidded and smug, watching you reorganize your bookshelf for the third time that week. It wasn’t even really about books anymore. You just liked when he was there, watching you like you were something worth staring at.

“Y’know,” Billy drawled, “You could come lie down and entertain me instead of alphabetizing Stephen King.”

You rolled your eyes but were already about to respond when the door creaked open and a small voice cut through.

“Y/N?” Max poked her head in, her expression a little sheepish.

Billy groaned instinctively. “Jesus, what now—”

“Billy,” you warned quietly, and then turned to Max, your voice warm and open. “What’s up, Max?”

Max stepped in holding a brush and a few scrunchies in mismatched colors. “Can you braid my hair?” she asked, cheeks a little pink like maybe she thought she was interrupting something.

Your face lit up. “Of course I can, come here.”

Billy scoffed, but not as harshly this time. He sat up a little straighter, leaning back on his elbows as Max climbed onto the bed beside you. You gently pulled her hair over her shoulder and started brushing through the red strands, careful, slow.

Max closed her eyes and relaxed into the motions, the room going quiet except for the soft tug of the brush and the occasional chirp of a bird outside.

Billy watched.

He meant to look away—meant to keep up the whole too-cool-for-this act—but something about the way you handled Max made his chest feel too full.

You were so damn patient. Fingertips gentle. Voice soft. You talked to Max the whole time, asking about her day, what book she was reading, if she wanted one braid or two. She laughed once, and it was the kind of sound Billy rarely got to hear from her.

And just like that, the annoyance ebbed.

He stubbed out the cigarette, not wanting the smell to ruin the moment.

Max caught his eye and blinked in surprise. “What?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Nothin’. Just... didn’t know you liked being babied.”

Max opened her mouth to snap back, but you pinched Billy’s leg without even looking.

“Don’t be mean. She’s allowed to want a braid and some peace.”

Billy glanced down at you, your fingers now moving through Max’s hair in practiced rhythm, and something warm curled under his ribs.

“…Looks good,” he muttered finally.

You smiled.

“She’s a good canvas.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’re good at that.”

“At braids?” you teased.

He shook his head, eyes soft now, unguarded in the way only you ever got to see. “Nah. At takin’ care of people.”

-

Max had gone home not long after, walking away with her braid swinging over her shoulder and a handful of your leftover gummy worms in her hoodie pocket. She’d muttered a half-hearted “Thanks” to Billy on her way out, which—for her—was practically a warm hug.

Now, the room was quiet again. The kind of calm that settled thick in the summer air after a small storm of laughter and kid sister energy.

You were back on your bed, curled near Billy, a book propped open but forgotten in your lap. He’d been silent for a while. Not in a moody way—more like he was turning something over in his head, and you knew better than to poke at it too soon.

“Hey,” he said eventually, voice low.

You looked over. “Yeah?”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting toward the now-empty space where Max had been. “So, uh… could you show me how to do that?”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“The braid thing.” He shifted, suddenly way too interested in a rip on your blanket. “Not sayin’ I wanna do it all the time or anything. Just… maybe she’d let me do it for her. One day. If she wanted.”

The corners of your mouth tugged up, but you didn’t smile just yet—not because you weren’t delighted, but because you knew if you gushed, he’d retreat into a defensive shrug and a grumble about how it was “no big deal.”

So you nodded slowly, gently. “Yeah. I can show you.”

Billy looked relieved. “Cool. Like… now?”

“Sure.” You shifted to sit in front of him, grabbing the brush and a long strand of ribbon you’d left nearby. “You’re practicing on me, though. I’m not giving you a mannequin.”

He gave you a look that was half-scoff, half-smile. “Guess I can deal with that.”

You sat between his legs, your back to his chest, and handed him the brush.

“Start by brushing through a section. No yanking, or I’ll kick you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his touch was gentler than you expected.

As he worked, you felt the shift happen—the tension slowly bleeding out of his frame, replaced by quiet focus. You guided him step by step: dividing the hair into three parts, showing him how to cross them, how to keep the tension even. His fingers were clumsy at first, rough from years of fights and fixing up his car, but he was trying. Really trying.

“Like that?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Almost. Hold this piece tighter—yeah, just like that. You’re a natural.”

He snorted. “Don’t get carried away.”

You laughed and leaned back into his chest just a little, letting yourself relax fully into the moment. “You’re sweet, Billy.”

He paused, hands still tangled gently in your hair.

“No I’m not.”

“You are.”

Silence settled again. Then, in a rare, unguarded whisper:

“I just… want her to know I care. Even if I suck at saying it.”

You closed your eyes, fingers curling around his where they rested near your shoulder.

“She’ll know. Especially if you do her hair. It’s not about getting it perfect—it’s about showing up. That’s what you’re doing.”

Billy pressed a quiet kiss to the crown of your head, just once.

“…Thanks,” he said.

And you smiled, eyes still closed, braid a little uneven but perfect in every way that counted.

-

You were in the kitchen when it happened—rooting around in the fridge for something snack-worthy and debating whether string cheese counted as a real meal—when you heard it.

A very familiar voice from the living room.

“Okay, hold still. Jesus, your head’s like… slippery.”

You peeked around the corner.

Max was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a comic book resting in her lap, expression unreadable. Billy stood behind her, tongue poking slightly out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on twisting sections of her red hair into something vaguely resembling a braid.

It was lumpy. Uneven. Too loose at the top and way too tight by the bottom. But it was unmistakably a braid.

You leaned quietly against the doorframe, arms crossed, heart about ready to melt right through your ribs.

Max finally spoke, dry as ever. “You’re bad at this.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t act like you didn’t ask me.”

“I did not,” she shot back.

“You walked in here and dropped a hair tie in my lap.”

“That was not asking.”

“Felt like it.”

Max was silent for a beat. Then: “…It’s not the worst braid ever.”

Billy blinked. “Thanks, I guess.”

You stifled a laugh, watching as he tied off the end of her braid with the bright blue scrunchie Max had tossed at him earlier. He stepped back, surveying his handiwork like a mechanic judging his own engine fix.

Max craned her neck to get a look in the mirror across the room. “It’s a little jacked.”

Billy threw a cushion at her. She dodged it easily, grinning.

But she didn’t undo the braid.

She didn’t even touch it.

You stepped in then, casual. “Looks cute,” you said, brushing a bit of hair off Max’s shoulder as you passed.

Billy gave you a look—half sheepish, half smug, like see, told you I could do it. You raised an eyebrow. “Not bad for a first time.”

“I had a good teacher,” he muttered, bumping your hip as you passed.

Max looked between you two, clearly suspicious of whatever thing was happening but too cool to comment on it.

Instead, she said, “Next time, you’re learning fishtail braids.”

Billy groaned dramatically. “I didn’t sign up for a salon.”

You just laughed, grabbing a bag of chips and flopping down next to Max. She leaned her head on your shoulder, still wearing that uneven braid like it was a crown.

And Billy?

He sat down beside you both, close but casual, arm thrown across the back of the couch—watching his sister with something new in his eyes.

Something soft. Something real.

And for once, everything felt easy.

[thewritingofamadwoman]

Billy’s Girl

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Cheerleader!Reader (reader’s last name is Emmerson; no reason, just cuz)

Warning: Fluff, making out, Billy realizing he’s in love, and Jason Carver being the dick that he is.

Enjoy & let me know what you think! 💙

“Dude look at Emmerson, she looks fucking hot in that cheerleading outfit.”

“Nah man have you seen Chrissy? She looks amazing.”

“Yeah but have you seen that skirt on Emmerson? If she jumps a little higher, I’ll be able to..”

“Finish that fucking sentence Carver, and the only thing you’ll be able to do is drink your lunch through a fucking straw.”

Billy Hargrove turned around from his seat on the bleachers to glare at the boy seated directly behind him, who was objectifying his girlfriend. Now, dont get it twisted. No one loves cat calling more than Billy Hargrove. But now that he’s a taken man things have changed. He only had heart eyes for his girl. Little Ms Emmerson was one of the first people he met in this shitty, bumble fuck town when he first moved here with his fucked up family. She was beautiful, kind, and sweet, the love of his life. She was the light to Billy’s darkness. He promised her and himself that he would protect her at all costs. And he intended to keep that promise.

Jason Carver visibly gulped at Billy’s threat, knowing that the Hargrove boy wasn’t kidding. Billy’s glare deepened and it his nose flared, almost like a bull ready to charge.

“Sorry Hargrove, didn’t see you there. Just meant to say that your girl is gorgeous.” Jason said, attempting to calm the situation.

Calling her gorgeous? Strike two.

“Yeah I know she’s fucking gorgeous Carver, I’ve got eyes. Just keep your fucking eyes on your own girlfriend and shut your fucking mouth,” and with that, Billy turned back around, eyes back on his girl as she practiced with the rest of her team.

As if feeling his gaze on her, she turned and found Billy’s eyes immediately. She smiled wide and blew him a kiss before getting into the next routine formation. Billy pretended to catch the floating kiss and brought it to his heart. One of the girls around her whispered something and Billy watched as his girl smiled and blushed, the girls around her obviously teasing her about her their relationship. Her bright eyes found his again and Billy’s swore that in that moment, he’d never felt a love stronger than that. His heart tightened in his chest and he felt like he could explode with pride.

Practice ended an hour later and Billy found himself outside, leaning on his Camaro and patiently waiting on his girl. With anyone else, Billy would have driven off, angry at having looked like a fool for waiting an hour for someone. But for his girl? Billy would wait until the end of time. The gym doors opened and the sound of a gaggle of girls made its way to Billy’s ears. He looked up, arms crossed in his denim jacket as he waited to spot her, a smirk immediately forming on his lips when he did. She locked eyes with him and said goodbye to her friends, making her way towards him with a huge smile on her face.

“Hey handsome. Thank you for waiting for me,” she said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose against his.

“Anything for you. Just don’t make it a habit. I barely wait for Maxine when she’s late,” he teased giving her a genuine smile, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

“That’s mean, you should wait for her more often. It’s going to get chilly soon,” she gently berated him, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. Billy suppressed the shiver he felt coming on, and pulled her closer. She giggled in his arms, pressed so tightly against him, and loving every moment of it.

“I’ll think about it. But I don’t want to think about my little shit head sister right now. I want to think about you in that little uniform of yours,” he whispered against her lips, barely touching. She played along, whispering a reply against his lips as well.

“Oh? And what about my uniform?”

“Just that it’ll look way better on my bedroom floor,” he growled and closed the space between them, pressing his lips hungrily against hers. He swallowed her gasp and slipped his tongue into her mouth as he devoured her. One of his hands slipped down to her behind, using his large palm to give her an impromptu squeeze. She squealed into the kiss and Billy laughed against her lips. When they broke apart, they were both panting.

“Woah, where did that come from?” She asked breathlessly. Billy grinned and nuzzled his nose against her again.

“What, can’t a guy show his girl just how much he’s missed her?” She smiled back at him and pulled him into a sweet embrace.

What she didn’t see, however, was Jason Carver’s car behind her as she and Billy were making out.

What’s she also didn’t see, was that while Billy was hugging her, he was sporting the biggest shit eating grin; his arm around his girl’s waist and middle finger up at Jason as he drove by, a scowl on his face.

[bingbongsupremacy]

My Baby

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warning: Reader can get pregnant, use of Y/N, mentions of addict Billy

Summary: Billy has a substance abuse problem. He's unpredictable. After a bad fight, he moves away to California without letting you know. Little did he know you were pregnant. It's been five years since he moved away. He's suddenly thrust back into your life when your daughter runs into him. Do you trust he's really changed? Will you allow him into your baby's life?

*Not Proof Read*

Pt. 2

□□□□□□□□

The birth of my daughter was the best thing that ever happened to me. The moment her bright little eyes met mine, I fell in love. I knew I would work tirelessly to keep her healthy and safe. I also knew I’d never tell Billy about her. Besides, he wasn’t in town anymore. How would he ever find out?

Billy was a party boy. He loved drinking and staying out until three in the morning. At first, I did too. Things were fine—until drugs entered the picture. When Billy got into coke, everything fell apart. He needed to be high all the time. I couldn’t have a serious conversation with him without it ending in him raging and running off. He couldn’t handle confrontation.

I understood why he used. Living in his house sounded like a nightmare. There were countless nights when he’d show up at my place, his body marked with fresh bruises. His dad was an abusive asshole, and his mom had left. All he had at home were bad memories and anger.

I found out I was pregnant a week after he took off for California. He never told me he was leaving. We had a fight, and like always, he chose to run away instead of working things out.

I thought about telling him about the baby. I wondered if he’d come back, if he missed me, or if he somehow sensed there was a baby and missed it too. On nights I wasn’t working, I’d imagine our life together. The image of our little family wasn’t perfect, but if I closed my eyes hard enough, it felt almost real. Maybe the baby would change him the way it had changed me. Maybe he could grow up.

But I never called him. I didn’t even know how to reach him. And even if I did, there was no guarantee Billy would sober up and become the parent our baby needed. I couldn’t subject my child to instability and trauma just to satisfy my own wishes.

When my parents found out about the baby, they threw me out. A child out of wedlock didn’t fit the perfect pastor’s family image they desperately clung to. Dating Billy and going to parties had already strained our relationship. The baby was the final straw.

My coworkers—now my closest friends—let me move into their apartment. I slept on the couch until I could save enough for a deposit. Robin and Steve saved my life. They’ve been there for me through everything. I wouldn’t have made it without them.

“Y/N! I’m ending your break early,” my manager barked, striding toward me. He threw my bright red apron at me. “A fleet of cars just pulled up. We need all hands on deck.”

Shit. I was supposed to have another ten minutes. Rosie might not finish eating if I leave. She gets distracted easily. “I’ll be right there,” I said, wiping ketchup off her soft cheek.

“Now, Y/N!”

Rosie looked up from her coloring book as I caught one of her crayons before it rolled off the table. Her big, beautiful eyes—Billy’s eyes—peered up at me. She was the perfect blend of the two of us. “Mommy, are you leaving?” she asked with a slight pout.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just finish your dinner. You promise?” I stood up.

Her frown deepened. “I want you to sit with me, Mama.”

“Y/N!” my manager shouted again.

“I promise I’ll be back soon. Just finish your chicken tenders, and I’ll buy you dessert. Alright, baby?”

Rosie sighed. “Fine.”

I kissed the top of her head before turning to face the rush of customers streaming into the restaurant. They must have come from the local game.

The next hour was a whirlwind of taking orders and running between tables and the kitchen. By the time I checked, Rosie’s booth was empty.

“Did Robin come to pick up Rosie already?” Steve asked as I cleared a table.

My eyes widened. “What? No. She’s not coming until six. She’s not in the booth?”

Steve’s brows furrowed in concern. “No. All that’s left is a half-eaten plate of food and her coloring stuff.”

My heart dropped. I spun toward the booth I’d left Rosie in, near the back of the restaurant. It was empty.

Dropping the wet rag in my hands, I rushed over. I checked underneath the table, praying she was just hiding. Nothing.

“Rosie?”

Panic clawed at my chest.

“She has to be around here somewhere, Y/N. We’ll find her,” Steve said, trying to reassure me. “I’ll check out back.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

I frantically searched the booths and corners of the restaurant. Nothing. Where was she? I knew this would happen. I knew someday she’d get taken, or wander off, and I wouldn’t be there. I was so fucking irresponsible.

The bell above the front doors jingled as someone new entered the diner.

And then, I heard it—Rosie’s giggle, soft and familiar.

My eyes snapped toward her. Relief washed over me as I saw her being carried in by a tall man. His arms, clad in a light blue denim jacket, supported Rosie’s small frame against his chest.

I rushed to them. “Rosie!” I gasped, scooping her out of the man’s arms and holding her tightly. “Where did you go? I told you never to leave without Mama! You could’ve been hurt!”

“I saw a puppy, and I had to say hi!” Rosie beamed. “The puppy was this small!” She held her hands a few inches apart. “I got lost, but this nice man helped me find my way back.”

I gently held her arm, unwilling to let her go just yet. Finally, I looked up at the man.

And froze.

I knew him.

His face hadn’t changed much in five years. His hair was a bit shorter, but the curls were still the same. His wide eyes, a mirror of Rosie’s, took me in with surprise.

“Y/N?”

“Billy.” My voice came out quieter than I intended.

His gaze flickered to Rosie, still nestled in my arms. “Is this your…”

“My kid, yeah. This is Rosie.” I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“I didn’t know you had a kid.”

We stepped aside to let a group of customers leave.

“How would you? You’ve been in California for the past five years,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Billy’s expression hardened slightly, but he said nothing.

“Y/N, you need to get back to work! We need your help clearing tables,” my manager barked from behind me.

I felt overwhelmed. What if Rosie ran off again? What if next time, no one was there to help?

“Who’s her dad?” Billy asked softly.

“What’s it to you?” I snapped, narrowing my eyes. The last thing I needed was him poking around and disrupting our lives. “Look, thanks for bringing Rosie back, but you can go now. Whatever brought you back to town, get back to it.”

I turned and headed toward Rosie’s booth, setting her down. “You can’t run off like that, Rosie. You need to stay here.”

“I think we need to talk, Y/N,” Billy said, following me.

“No, Billy. We don’t.” I let out a bitter chuckle. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I have to get back to work. I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll wait. When do you get off? Besides, it looks like you need someone to watch Rosie while you work. I’m free.”

He was so stubborn. It was something I’d always both hated and loved about him. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, having someone watch Rosie would ease my stress.

I sighed. “Fine. Her stuff is back here.” I led him to the booth. “This is Billy. He’s going to sit with you for a while until Auntie Robin gets here. Be good, okay?”

I cast one last glance at Billy and Rosie before heading back to the kitchen. This day was turning into a nightmare.

Robin came to pick up Rosie at six. Billy stayed.

When my shift finally ended at eight, I slid into the booth across from him, utterly exhausted.

“What do you want, Billy?” I asked, untying my apron.

His gaze softened. “First, I want to say I’m sorry. I was an immature asshole when I left. I didn’t think about you or how much you cared about me. I ran from my problems. You didn’t deserve that.”

I looked down at the apron in my hands, unsure how to respond.

“You didn’t deserve to be treated the way I treated you,” he continued. “And I’m sorry.”

I didn’t expect an apology. “Thank you,” I muttered.

Billy hesitated. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“About Rosie.” His voice dropped, losing its usual confidence. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. She’s five. She has my eyes, my nose…she looks like a little version of my mom.” He let out a breathless chuckle, running a hand down his face. “I saw her outside, and I knew. When she told me her age, I was sure. She’s mine, isn’t she?”

My heart pounded. There was no way to avoid this. “She’s yours.”

Billy exhaled sharply. Relief? Frustration? I couldn’t tell. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You left me, Billy,” I said, anger rising. “A week before I found out. Your whole life revolved around drugs and alcohol. I didn’t want to expose a baby to that—or to you. You weren’t ready to be a parent.”

“I still deserved to know!” Billy’s voice cracked. “You didn’t give me the chance to change. I missed five years of her life. Five years I can never get back.”

“I didn’t know if you would change, Billy. I didn’t want her to suffer like you did growing up. I did what I thought was best.”

Billy was silent for a moment. “I’ve changed, Y/N. I cleaned up my act. No more coke, no more drinking every night. I have a job—a real one. I’m here to stay.”

I studied him. He looked healthier, steadier. Maybe he had changed.

“Rosie deserves to know her dad,” I said finally. “But if I see any sign of you slipping, you’re out of her life. We’ll take this slow. No big revelations yet.”

Billy nodded. “Thank you. I won’t let you down. I swear, I'm done with California. I'm done running away from my problems.”

For the first time in years, I felt a cautious sliver of hope.

“Well then… Rosie’s probably asleep by now, but if you want, I don’t work tomorrow. Maybe you could swing by my place, and we could go out for ice cream or something? Just so you can get to know each other,” I suggest, unsure how to navigate this.

“I’d like that,” Billy says with a small smile. “Thank you.”

Billy drives me home. His car smells faintly of cigarettes—not nearly as strong as it used to. Unlike before, the car is clean. No beer cans or liquor bottles litter the floor.

The ride to my apartment is quiet, with neither of us knowing what to say.

When we arrive, I thank Billy for the ride and head inside. Everything is dark except for the kitchen light, left on for me. Quietly, I kick off my shoes by the front door and tiptoe to my room.

Rosie is curled into a small ball on her side of the bed, a thin blanket draped over her tiny frame. Her stuffed bunny is tucked under her arm.

I’ve been trying to save up for her own bed, but it’s been hard. With rising rent and unexpected doctor visits, any money I’ve saved disappears almost as quickly as it’s set aside.

After a quick shower, I climb into bed beside Rosie. As soon as she senses me, she scoots closer, her warmth pressing against my side.

My stomach twists with uncertainty. I don’t know if letting Billy into our lives was the right decision. This could end badly. I just don’t want anything—or anyone—to hurt Rosie.

I let out a soft sigh.

Only time will tell. I just hope Billy really has changed.

[moonbeamoclock]

Hot take that shouldn’t be a hot take:

my biggest pet peeve is when people tag something as a x reader but it’s actually an oc…..i got to the last chapter of a fic only for the description of the ‘reader’ to be of a white person.

then the author got nasty with me after i called her out about it but that’s whatever

it takes an extra 2 mins to have a generic description of a person rather then give the details of their appearance but some of y’all are just too lazy to do even that

[alexisaflop]

Wait on your Song - Steve Harrington x Henderson! reader

Chapter 11: Trick or Treat, Freak!

Nancy dumps Steve and you give him a ride home.

It's Halloween morning and too early for your mother's excitement about Dustin's costume. "Look at these pearls," he says and makes some weird noise at the back of his throat. You pull a face, "oh no, don't do that." But your mother eats it up; snaps several photos of "Dusty-bun."

At high school, nobody is dressed up. This morning, Nancy is actually in homeroom, and tells you all about Barb and the private investigator and the fact that her parents are having to sell the house. You decide against explaining that Steve had come around last night and told you all of it already. Instead, you let the familiar guilt settle on you, now with the added layer of having been helping Steve last night when it really should have been her. The taste of bile rises in the back of your mouth.

The rest of the day is spent pretty much in silence. You have a shared study period later in the day and the three of you sit there 'working'. You know you've not answered a single question. Steve looks like he's thinking, but whenever you glance over at him, he is doodling in the margins. Glancing over at Nancy, you smile slightly. Tight-lipped a shadow of recognition flickers across her face. She gets the message that you're in this together - even if you're not sure what /this/ is. Her pencil snaps against the page. Wordlessly she stood up and walked away to sharpen it. "Thanks for your help last night, I wouldn't have got my application in without you." Steve can't quite look at you, his eyes shifting from your hands to your face and back down to his margin drawing that appears to be taking over his entire page. You get the feeling that he doesn't know how to act around you by yourself. Last night, he had constantly fidgeted and hadn't been able to decide how close to sit next to you. Now that Nancy was in the same room, you realise that there's a hint of guilt on his face. "You haven't told her you saw me yesterday, then?" you smirk, already knowing the answer. "I don't want to upset her, she might feel bad about not being the one to help me." Looking over at Nancy, you get the impression Steve is projecting very hopefully onto her. She has a far off look in her eyes and sincerely doubt she would remember what it was Steve asked her for help with yesterday. "She's taking a while, isn't she?" you murmur. Steve's eyes flicker between you and her before going to check on her.

They go into a study room and close the door and you fail miserably at pretending to not be watching. Things start to get heated; Nancy squares her shoulders and her eyes squint at Steve. He's trying and failing to keep her calm. Slowly, you start packing away your things, then Nancy's too. You get the feeling she'll want to leave quickly. Steve draws the blinds, obscuring your view into the room. For a second, his eyes meet yours. His expression is hard and set. But, looking at his eyes, you can see that he is fighting to stay afloat. You can see the guilt that he feels for Barb just as clearly as you can see it in Nancy's eyes.

They aren't in the room for long and when they leave, Nancy is back to not speaking. Wordlessly, you pass her her stuff but shoot Steve an inquisitory glance. His defeated face reminds you that he is just as stuck in this as you are. How do you help someone get through something that legally never happened? Nancy is shooting daggers at Steve so you leave the library without him. In effort to get her to talk, you place a protective arm around her shoulders. "He wants us to play pretend as stupid teenagers tonight." "He doesn't need to pretend; he /is/ a stupid teenager," you tease, hoping for at least a smile. Nothing. "Well you have to come, because me and Jonathan already agreed to go." "I just don't care. It's all bullshit," she says sullenly. "Okay," you're not sure what to say, but you want to get her to talk. Properly. "It's like nobody even cares about what happened to Barb." Just like that, the notion of wanting to help her disappears. You were the one who had watched Barb die. You were the one who had talked Nancy out of her guilt and forgiven her straight away for any wrong-doing she felt like she had committed that night. "Seriously?" your voice is just louder than a whisper but it trembles with rage, "you want to talk to me about caring? Where the hell have you been for the past year? You are supposed to be my friend. You've disappeared to only caring about the person you lost and not the ones who actually care about you. Barb was my friend too." "Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's different for you, you didn't kill her." "Have you considered it's just the same for me? That I don't hear her screaming every night? Of course you don't because you never talk about it. You're always with Steve! Which is exactly how you were when Barb was still alive. And I've accepted that your boyfriend is more important, really I have. But it sucks for him that you treat him like crap just as much as you did everyone else." She stares at you. "Why didn't you tell me?" her eyes are watering. Crap. "Because of this. I didn't want to make it worse." "Well, it's not like it's got better is it?" her eyes are still wet but her anger is back. The bell rings and you have science class. Neither of you know what to say, so you just walk away.

The rest of the day was a blur. You feel shitty for not helping Nancy more but the rest of you is angry that she can't see that everyone else is going through the same crap as her. The same guilt. The same grief. Your head is spinning as you walk to your car. And that's when you see Billy. Shit. "You'd look prettier if you were smiling." You flip him off and keep walking. Your heart rate raises as you can still feel his eyes on you. But a ginger girl coming from the direction of the middle school catches your eye. She's smiling at you. MadMax. It had to be her. Dustin hadn't shut up about how cool it is that she skates. And she smiled at you when she saw who you were swearing at. You smile back at her before collapsing into your car and going home.

At home you collapse into the sofa, close your eyes and press your hands against your forehead. "Why didn't you tell me?" Nancy's voice echoes in your head. What if you had told her sooner about the nightmares and the guilt? Would she have listened? Or would it just have made her feel more guilty for ditching you and Barb that night?

You sit like that for about ten minutes alone before the Dustin hurricane came home. You're glad for the distraction from the spiralling questions. "Max called me presumptuous today," he said proudly, chucking his bag by the door. You shake your head, "you do know what presumptuous means right?" He doesn't say anything. "What did you say before she said that?" "I was inviting her to come trick-or-treating tonight with the Party." "And you just expected her to come?" "Yeah, we know where to get all the full size candy bars." "Okay, so do you think she'll go with you?" He shrugged, "Lucas doesn't think so." It's when he's walking away to his room that he mentions the Camaro that almost ran the Party over on the way home. "I am going to kill Billy," you promise him, before heading to your room to find an outfit for Tina's stupid party.

You park a few blocks away from Tina's and walk around. If you hadn't promised Jonathan you would be here, you would be at home with a scary movie right now. But the distraction that is drunk teenagers is almost as entertaining. You we wear red trousers and a loose fitting white shirt with a bandana tied through your hair: a very low effort pirate. You didn't expect to find rum here, but then again you had driven so that's probably for the best. Billy's name is echoing around outside. Not that guy again you complain to yourself. Somehow, you manage to walk through the doors right behind them and end up following them across the party. All the way to Steve and Nancy. She gives you a half-hearted glare. Like you brought these idiots here.

"We've got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington," Tommy proclaims. Steve is dressed as Tom Cruise, although he's leaning pretty heavily on the sunglasses to make it work. His jaw is set as he stares back at Billy. Not on the offensive, but getting prepared to defend. Nancy stalks off. Which kind of proves your point from earlier that she just does not care about anyone else. Billy steps towards Steve, and you prepare to step in between them. "I was told not to expect to see you here, Y/N," Billy turns to you. He's learnt your name from somewhere. You hate the way he says it, like now he knows your name, he can get to you. You lift your chin to raise your gaze in line with his, "For someone who tried to run over my brother this afternoon you're awfully friendly." He almost looks surprised, but not as much as you do when he walks away. "He drinks like he drives," you say, turning to Steve, "like an obnoxious idiot. You good, Harrington?" His face is still clenched together. As though it might all fall apart if he dared to relax. "Yeah. Fine." "We should probably find Nancy." "Yeah, because she'll be so happy to see you," he eyes you up wearily, "why did you even come Henderson?" "Because after last time, I'm not leaving any of my friends alone at these stupid parties." His face softens minutely, "I have to take her side." "I know."

You follow him through the crowd and find Nancy near the kitchen turned bar. "Pure fuel! Pure fuel!" exclaims a kid who you were really hoping was dressed as Dionysus next to the punch bowl. You grinned and Steve couldn't help but also look amused. Nancy on the other hand looked incredibly serious as she went in for her drink. "Woah, woah, woah, Nance. Take it easy, alright?" "We're being stupid teenagers for the night, wasn't that the deal?" You couldn't help but smile. Nancy had never really got drunk before and this was certainly going to be entertaining. But Steve just looked concerned. You felt bad for him that he'd be the one who probably had to look after her when this all went wrong. You survey the punch ingredients and make yourself a red solo cup of juice; there's a very strong chance you'll be driving an incredibly drunk Nancy home. Especially seeing as Jonathan is nowhere to be seen. That's when Steve and Nancy start dancing and you groan internally. Jonathan was supposed to suffer through this nightmare with you. You find a space by the wall not too far from the two of them.

You're not sure how long after that Jonathan turns up. You're surprised to see him actually talking to someone. "I thought you ditched me," you complain once he joins you. "No I couldn't miss … this" he gestures around to the general antics of drunken teenagers. "Agreed, us drivers can all have one drink right?" Nancy joins you to the alcohol despite Steve's protestations. You cant help but agree, "Nancy at least have some water first or something." "Screw you," she glares at you with a hate so strong that you take a step back. Steve watches with interest. He doesn't look sad, just resigned to his fate. And apologetic. Meanwhile, Nancy just refills her cup. "Nancy come on put it down," Steve has his hands on her forearm. "Let go," she insists. Steve does, and surprised, Nancy tips the punch onto herself. "What the hell," she hisses as everyone else oohs and aahs. "Nothing to see here guys," you glare as you follow Nancy and Steve away. You're not sure where Jonathan went, and you end up standing outside Tina's bathroom alone. You don't hear all of their conversation, but its enough. It starts with Steve apologising and offering to take her home. "No you wanted this," Nancy insists. "No I didn't, I told you to stop drinking," Steve's voice is soft but firm. You vaguely wonder how many drunk teenagers he's dealt with over time. "Bullshit," Nancy says confidently. "It's not bullshit." "Bullshit." It's silent for a moment. To be fair you wouldn't know what to say either. "You, you're bullshit," Nancy sounds oddly calm for someone saying something seemingly so angry, so final. "What?" Steve's voice is still soft, but you can feel the defensiveness creeping back in. "Pretending everything's okay… like we didn't kill Barb," her voice breaks a little, like she's begging for someone, anyone, to understand.

Your teeth clench around nothing as the guilt from earlier in the day returns. You couldn't lie that in your darker months of the past year you hadn't blamed Nancy and Steve for Barb's fate. But you knew that really, it's not their fault. Like Steve was trying to tell Nancy, you'd all just been stupid teenagers. If Barb hadn't hurt herself, the monster would have just taken on the next bleeding person in Hawkins. But you suppose Nancy hasn't come to that conclusion. Which is fine, but you really hate she'd stop blaming Steve for it too. It's not like he'd forced you and Barb to come to the party that night. What she says next you don't hear all of because Jonathan appears beside you. But you hear Steve whisper "like we're in love?" "Bullshit." "You don't love me?" His voice wavers; all the fighting, all the uncertainty between the two of them you had been seeing all year seemed to suddenly be revealed to him. "Its bullshit," Nancy is unphased in her drunken state. Suddenly the door opens and Steve leaves. He doesn't seem surprised that you're there.

"Jonathan, make sure she gets home okay. I'll take Harrington." Jonathan nods. You knew how much he and Nancy cared about each other - enough to trust him to get her home. Hell, he'd gotten you home enough times before. After listening to the low-voiced break-up of Steve and Nancy, the booming party downstairs is deafening. Steve is easy to sport and easier to catch up with in his dazed state. "Steve, wait up," you call. He turns back to look at you. Shattered. That's how you'd describe him. Exhausted and smashed into pieces. "Leave me alone, Y/N." "No," you say simply. He doesn't say anything else as you walk with him, but he also doesn't send you away. You've reached the front door when Billy reappears. "Y/N, leaving so soon? And with your best friend's boyfriend? Something stinks," he looks at you and it rockets fear down your spine. "Yeah, I'm leaving, so let us through," you glare. "Not gonna help out your girlfriend Steve?" he says tauntingly. Steve straightens besides you, "they're not mine," he says with gritted teeth. "So you're open to offers?" smirked Billy to you. "Not from you, now move," you shove past him and drag Steve with you. You reach the front of Tina's drive, "How did you get here Steve?" "Lift from some guys on the basketball team," he turns to you as he realises his issue. Tina's house is a good half an hour walk from here, and it's pretty cold. "You don't have to help me, you only agreed to be my friend for Nancy's sake, and …" his voice breaks off but he's made his point. You shake your head, "Come on, let's get you home."

You lead him away from the noise of the party to your car. "Why do you park so far away?" "So that my car can get thrown up on? I'm good thanks." He smiles slightly and sinks into your passenger seat. You start up the car and turn on the heating before turning on the radio. Hang On To Yourself fills the car. "Of course it's Bowie." "See we really are friends," you say as you pull away. "You've been here for me more than Nancy," he says as you go back past the party. You spot Jonathan getting Nancy into his car, you give him a discrete nod. You don't think Steve notices. "I could say the same of you," you smile and glance at him. He's collapsed all the way back into his seat and is staring up to the night sky. "I thought it was temporary. I knew Nance needed time, to get over Barb, to feel better. But, I guess that wasn't the problem," he sighs. "You must have known it wasn't going well," you think of all the bickering, the fact they never went to each other for anything. "Thanks, you're really making me feel better," he laughed harshly. "Sorry." "It's fine, you had to get over her too." You aren't sure he had meant Barb until he continues, "I can't believe you bounced back so quickly from watching her die, to helping Jonathan fight me," he chuckles slightly, "I think you handled it so well Nance forgot you were in the same place she was."

You don't know what to say. The two of you sat in silence for a while, with just Bowie's voice between you: "Smiling, and waving, and looking so fine. I don't think you knew you were in the song." The silence isn't awkward, over the last year of seeing Steve at work, of communicating through eyebrow raises over Nancy's head something had changed between the two of you. It was like you'd become allies in surviving high school - something your middle school self would never understand. The song ends as you pull into the Harrington's driveway. The house is weirdly dark for 10.30 on a Saturday. "Your parents out for Halloween? Back home, no-one over the age of 11 is going out to celebrate." The corners of his mouth lift slightly, "no, business trip. If it's a long way, my mom goes with my dad." "Surely if it's a long way, that's more of a reason to stay with you," you say without thinking. "It's fine," he shrugged and it was pretty clear he was barely holding it together. "Okay," you say simply. You might be more comfortable around Steve, but there are lots of parts of him that you still don't understand. "I just, Nance," he glanced at you, almost for permission, "I can't believe after a year it's just over. I don't understand - I was there for her through everything. And now, she's just, she's just gone?" "I know the feeling," you sigh; thinking of Jonathan. At this point he's all she has left and neither of them have been exactly communicative about their issues. "I can't believe she ditched her best friend as well as her boyfriend in one day. I know I haven't been the perfect boyfriend but- but you? You've been here everyday," his voice raises, and he's beginning to sound more angry than hurt.

"Steve. Steve," you take his forearm gently, "hey, you need to calm down okay? You might be able to fix this with her you know? If you wanted." He groans, "I don't know what I want, Y/N." "And that's why," you reached across him, into the glove compartment. "What are you doing?" his eyes widen slightly. You pull out a pen, "you're going to go inside and go to sleep. But, just in case you realise being alone all the time sucks: here's my phone number." "You know, before tonight I really thought you secretly hated me." "Maybe I do, maybe it brings me great joy to watch you suffer." He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Harrington. My mom and Dustin both answer that phone, so emergencies only. Okay, no prank calls?" "Thanks, Y/N. I owe you." "You owe me twice." "I guess I do. See you around." You wait until he's safely inside until you start heading home. You turn up the radio and allow yourself to relax. You think of Nancy, and can't help but wonder if she thinks you're just /bullshit/ too. After years of friendship and suddenly your allegiance has changed to Steve Harrington? "It ain't easy, it ain't easy, it ain't easy to get to heaven when you're going down," Bowie tells you as you drive. "I must be going down if we're friends now," you mumble to yourself.

A/N Sorry this took fucking forever i'm really busy now that the sun is out and i can go out and do stuff i wouldnt say they're friends yet. they no longer enemies tho, they allies

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 28: Games

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 28, Part 29 (Coming Soon)...

AN: lol I'm back on my bullshit. Word Count: 3,874 Warnings: allusions to abuse

It’s a short ride. Neither of you speak, allowing the music to fill the space between you. It’s comfortable. You listen to each song as the cassette plays through the specific mix curated by its maker. Max had shown you a few of these ‘mixtapes' Billy had made the day you waited with her. You don’t fully understand how he’s able to get each song to seamlessly blend into the next despite the variation in artists and rhythms. 

Then a song comes on that grabs your attention. It’s the same loud tune, a guitar continuously strumming along with the beat of drums and bass. The thing that stands out to you are the lyrics. 

“People think I’m insane,  because I’m frowning all the time…  I need someone to show me the things in life that I can’t find I can’t see the things that make true happiness,  I must be blind.”

“Who sings this?” You ask, glancing sidelong at Billy. 

“Black Sabbath.” He tells you, keeping his eyes ahead. “It’s one of their older songs but it still holds up.” He explains pulling to a stop in front of his house. When he moves to cut the engine your hand reflexively grabs his wrist, stopping him. 

“Wait. I want to hear the rest.” You tell him, using your other hand to turn up the volume.   Billy doesn’t fight you, watching you in silence as you listen to the rest of the song. 

“Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal… I tell you to enjoy life I wish I could, but it’s too late”

Your heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze for a beat as the song ends. There is a tense moment before the next song begins where you notice Billy's pulse under your fingertips. You don’t know why you're squeezing Billy’s wrist so tightly. You slowly uncurl your fingers, sitting back in your seat. The lyrics bounce around in your mind as you sit there. Billy finally cuts the engine, ending the music as well. 

“You okay?” Billy finally asks, lifting a brow. You nod.

“Yea, it’s just weird. How something can sound so loud and angry but under it all it’s actually really sad.” You explain. “Like a cry for help.” Billy’s lips quirk up slightly.

“Maybe that’s what they were going for?” He says. “Music is just another way to tell a story. I’m surprised you’re not more into it.” He tells you, moving to exit the car. “If you thought that was good I’ll have to show you some Bon Jovi.” He goes on as you follow him out of the car and up the steps towards the house. “I’m assuming you have no idea who that is.” Billy says with a smirk. 

“Yea yea, save it. Max already thinks I’ve been living under a rock for the past 17 years.” You reply with an eye roll. Billy huffs a laugh. 

“That little shit wouldn’t know dick about music if it weren’t for me.” He says, pulling out his keys. His words are harsh but there is no heat to them. 

“Well this is a first.” You quip as he unlocks and opens the front door, stepping to the side to let you enter first. “A whole different experience than coming in though the window.” You joke, stepping into the house. 

“We can always go around back if you’d feel more comfortable.” He jokes back, following you in. You take a moment to really look around as Billy closes and bolts the door behind you. You’ve never been in this part of the house, only glimpsing at it through windows. It’s not a large space and it’s clear that 4 people occupy the small domicile. Bits and pieces of everyones lives are scattered around. 

“I think I’m good.” You reply. You notice that there is a clear clash in interior design through the house. The free weights contrast with the decorative rug under them. Beer cans stacked next to decorative shell decor on the mantle. Someone had tried to make this house a home, but there was something off. It felt like two personalities were struggling to mesh into a comfortable middle, it was unstable, chaotic. 

Billy moves around you to lead you deeper into the house but before you can move any further Max’s voice calls from her room. 

“Billy, I need to go to the arcade! Where did you-oh.” She stops short seeing you in the living room. For some reason it feels like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, a pit of anxiety taking root in your stomach. 

“Hey Max.” You greet, giving her a half wave. She just watches you skeptically. Her narrowed eyes dart between you and Billy. 

“What’s your malfunction?” Billy snaps after the silence lasts a moment longer than is comfortable. 

“Are you two dating?” Max asks bluntly. 

“What?!” Both you and Billy ask in unison. You share a confused glance before turning back to Max. Your face heats exponentially. 

“Mind your own business you little shit.” Billy bites at the same time you try to explain. 

“He’s tutoring me in history.” A smirk, eerily similar to Billy’s, spreads across Max’s face. 

“Is that what they call it these days?” She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, a taunting lift in her brow. 

“If you want a ride, I would shut the hell up.” Billy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. 

“Jeez, learn how to take a joke.” Max huffs with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She ducks back into her room, leaving you and Billy in the living room. Billy just shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he heads for his room. 

“I swear if her attitude gets any worse Neil is going to lose his shit.” He mumbles, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Be ready in 20 minutes!” He yells after her. The only confirmation that she heard him comes in the form of a dramatic groan. 

“That’s how all kids are at that age. I was so argumentative my mom and I didn’t have a pleasant interaction for weeks at a time, and don’t get me started on Hopper. I’m pretty sure I took years off his life with my attitude.” You chuckle fondly at the memory of your painful growing years. 

“Sometimes being a kid isn’t a good enough excuse.” Billy replies calmly. Your stomach twists uncomfortably remembering how Neil had looked at his own son that night not so long ago. 

“Neil and Susan are in Indianapolis Christmas shopping, so I’m playing chauffeur for the day.” Billy explains, entering his room and heading straight for the bed, flopping down on it. 

“I don’t mind helping watch her.” You offer without much thought. You hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous about being in his room alone with him. It’s not like you had never been in his room alone before, you spent many nights sitting across from him on the bed pouring over history lessons, keeping your voices low to not wake anyone else in the house. But something about being here in the daylight, not sneaking around, it makes your stomach swirl. You glance around, his room looks the same as it always does. Bed half made, cigarette butts stamped out in the ashtray next to the cassettes on the nightstand. You do notice that there is now a small dent in the wall next to the mirror, but you can’t be sure that it wasn’t always there.

“Neil would kick my ass if he knew I pawned my responsibility off on you.” Billy explains, propping himself up on his elbow to see you. You absentmindedly skim your fingers over the outside of the doorframe.

“It’s not ‘pawning’ them off on me. We would do it together.” You reason with him. Your fingers catch on something cold and metal on the outside of the doorframe. Leaning back to glance at what you’re touching you see the latch of a lock. Glancing at the outer side of the door you see the other half of the latch. Something cold prickles down your spine.

This isn’t just a teenager wanting privacy, the way this latch is set up, it would function to lock the door from the outside. Why would anyone need that? Your mind struggles to make sense of it. 

“He wouldn’t see it that way.” He tells you flatly. 

“Then don’t tell him.” You say simply, stepping fully into the room. “I’ll help you out today and I’ll be gone by the time they get home. “ you explain, sitting gently on the edge of the bed next to his legs. “Just like when we painted the porch.” You remind him. You watch something dance behind his eyes at the memory from this summer that feels like a hundred years ago. “Consider it part of my tutoring payment. I know the food isn’t a fair trade.” You insist. When he finally nods, giving in, you have to smile. 

“Fine. But only because the idea of dealing with a prepubescent she-devil by myself makes me want to stick needles in my brain… and leaving her alone is not an option.” He tells you, sitting up next to you. His thigh presses against yours, and the proximity sends sparks over your nerves. 

Remembering the promise you made yourself before leaving home you try to scoot away to put some distance between your bodies. Billy notices the movement immediately. 

“Oh sorry, am I making you nervous?” He asks, leaning in even closer, one of his arms going behind your back. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you can feel him if you lean back even slightly. You struggle to hold his gaze.

“No.” You say simply, not trusting your voice to say more without shaking. 

“You sure?” He asks, lifting a brow. You feel him lean in even closer, you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him. You force yourself to hold his gaze and remain still, fighting the urge to pull away. Like a game of personal space chicken.

“I’m fine.” You practically whisper, your voice sounding too loud with how close he is. When he chuckles you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes shift between yours. You can see the flecks of green in his sky blue iris. Your breath mingles with his and you smell his last cigarette mixed with spearmint gum. You swallow thickly, gritting your teeth together in defiance. 

“You can tell me if you’re not.” Billy insists, his voice just as soft. He’s flirting but you can hear the seriousness laced in his tone. He’s making sure you know he’ll stop, if you ask. Something about that knowledge eases the panic in you. Shifting slightly you tilt your chin up, watching him the way he always looks at you.

“I’m okay.” You say more confidently. You see his adams apple bob as he swallows, his eyes seeming to darken. His gaze flickers to your parted lips so quickly you think you imagined it. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your stomach flipping at the memory of what his lips felt like against you-

“Right, that’s what ‘not dating’ looks like.” Max’s voice calls loudly from the doorway. You feel like a bucket of ice water has just been poured over your head as you pull away from Billy. Embarrassment floods through you as Billy leaps from the bed lunging towards the door. 

“Fuck off!” He yells, slamming the door closed. 

“I still need a ride!” Max yells from outside the door, pounding on it for emphasis. Billy’s shoulders are tense as he stands with his back to you, his arms braced against the door. You see him take a deep breath, then another, bowing his head as he lowers his arms, slightly adjusting the waistband of his jeans. 

“You sure you want in on this shit show?” He asks, turning to lean back against the door. Max pounds on the door again, shaking its frame. You manage a dry laugh, trying to shove all the mortifying shame you feel into the back of your mind. 

“Oh this is nothing. Try telling Mike Wheeler a campaign needs to end early. Kid turns into a gremlin.” You tell him, pushing yourself off the bed. Billy lifts a brow. 

“I’m more surprised that you know what a gremlin is.” He admits teasingly. You roll your eyes. 

“I do have a life outside of this room you know.” You tell him. You won’t admit that the only reason you know the plot of gremlins is because Steve insisted on catching you up on all the big hits you had missed while you were in the hospital, not that you had actually seen it in theaters. 

Billy watches you approach with a healthy dose of skepticism. 

“Come on Hargrove, put on a brave face. I hear they can smell fear.” You joke, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to be late!” Max yells, pounding harder. 

“Be my guest Loca, I always knew you had a death wish.” Billy says with a smirk. Your heart pounds at the memory of your first meeting. It feels like a million years ago, like you were an entirely different person, and looking at Billy’s confident smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes, you wonder if he’s a different person now too. 

Without another word, Billy whips open the door to reveal a very agitated Max.

“Finally!” She exclaims, turning on her heel striding towards the front door, her bag already slung over her shoulder. Billy shoots you a look over his shoulder before following after her. 

“Hey, Max?” You call, slipping in front of Billy to catch up to her. She only glances at you, still heading for the door. “Do you mind if I tag along to the arcade?” You ask. Your words cause her to halt, turning to face you with the full force of her scrutinizing glare. You feel Billy come to a stop behind you, her eyes dart to him before returning to you. 

“Did he ask you to babysit me?” She asks indignantly. 

“No!” You say, throwing your hands up. “I just thought you could teach me some stuff. I’m not very good and I hear you kick the boys' butts on a regular basis.” You explain, hoping it comes off as genuine. She studies you for another beat, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of allowing you to come with her. Finally, she shrugs. 

“Fine. But don’t try to talk to me while I’m playing. It throws me off.” She instructs, turning for the door. When her back is turned you quickly give Billy an enthusiastic thumbs up, earning another eye roll. 

The three of you climb into the car, Billy turning the volume up to his usual bone shaking level as he whips out of his spot, speeding down the road. It’s a short ride into town, especially with how Billy drives. When he comes to a stop outside the arcade you climb out, pulling the seat forward to allow Max out. 

“I’ll meet you in there.” you tell her. Needing no explanation, Max jogs to the doors slipping into the dimly lit building. You can see the boys' bikes already lined up outside. “You coming?” you ask Billy, leaning back into the car. 

“Hell no. I can babysit just fine from here. You couldn’t pay me to go into that dork pit.” He scoffs. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness. 

“Oh come on, tough guy. Where is your sense of adventure and whimsy.” you ask, only receiving an unimpressed look in return. 

“Whimsy?” He asks, his lip curling at the word. 

“I’ll buy you a coke.” you offer, hoping that bribery will soften his resolve. Billy’s lips press into a firm line, you can see his jaw tick as he grinds his teeth. 

“Fine.” he says after a moment. “But I have to run an errand real quick.” He tells you. Thinking this is some kind of trick to get out of coming in, you narrow your eyes. 

“You promise to come in when you get back?” you ask, extending your pinky to him. He lifts a brow, a dry laugh escaping him.

“What are you 12?” He asks. When you don’t show any signs of joking he heaves a sigh, linking his pinky with yours. “Fine, yes. I promise I’ll come back and watch you be terrible at dig dug, dork.” He promises with a teasing smirk. 

“Good.” you smile, letting his pinky go and stepping back. “And I’m not that bad.” you clarify, closing the door and allowing him to pull away from the curb. 

It turns out that you ARE that bad. 

Max allows you to take the first turn, even offering you pointers, but by the end of your third turn she takes over explaining that she can’t stand watching you throw away quarters like that. You’re a sorry excuse for a gamer, your brain having trouble communicating quickly enough with your hands on the controls. It’s alright though, you have more fun watching Max and the boys take turns trying to beat each other's scores. 

The longer you observe the group of adolescents the more you note the change in dynamic among them. Max and Lucus are openly interested in each other but don’t seem to know how to navigate this new realm of relationship. Mike appears distracted, constantly glancing at his watch. You assume he’s anxious to see El. You know that Hopper has started allowing the two to hang out at the cabin and though you’ve pushed for El to have more social time, Hopper's old habits die hard. His paranoia is persistent. You can’t say that you don’t understand where he’s coming from. 

Dustin and Will seem more irritated than anything with the new shift in priorities within the group. 

After roughly 30 minutes of watching Max wipe the floor with the boys scores, you venture to the opposite side of the arcade. You want to give the group space but also stay close enough to keep an eye on them. You scan the games, searching for one that you can play without too much instruction. Ms. Pac-Man seems to be simple enough, and it’s located in a spot that allows you to watch your group bounce from game to game. 

Inserting your first quarter you begin the game. You’re able to keep up at first, but when the ghosts start to speed up you can't seem to evade them quick enough. After your 4th quarter your pride is stinging. 

“Fuck…” you curse to yourself as once again you are cornered by the little red ghost. Before you can insert another quarter, you feel someone approaching from your left, coming too close to just be passing by, tensing your hand itches to lash out but you stop yourself when you realize who it is.

“Hey.” Keiths’ monotone voice greets you. You know him from school, and to your knowledge the two of you had never actually spoken to each other. 

“Hi Keith.” you reply politely. You aren’t sure why he’s approaching you. You know that he works here so possibly you were doing something wrong. “What’s up?” you ask. Kieth seems to swallow past something in his struggle to speak. 

“I see you around sometimes.” he tells you, unable to meet your eyes. You don’t know what to say to that.

“Yea, I babysit so I come in to keep an eye on my kids sometimes.” you tell him. 

“That’s cool.” he mumbles “You know I could help you with some of the games if you want. Are you alone today?” He asks. You know he doesn't mean for it to sound as creepy as it does but you can’t help your slight cringe. 

“No, I’m actually with-” you move to gesture towards Max but are cut off when Billy appears next to you, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. 

“Me.” He finishes for you, keeping his eyes on Keith who looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“O-oh, cool.” Keith manages to mumble, taking a step back. “Nevermind then” he manages to get out, obviously resisting the urge to turn and run. Understandable with the way Billy is glaring daggers at him.

“I’ll see you around.” you offer Keith a kind smile. He only nods sheepishly before retreating further into the arcade. Sighing, you swat at Billy’s side, causing him to drop his arm from your shoulder with a chuckle.

“What was that for?” he asks, doing his best to look genuinely confused. You see right through it to the self satisfaction he's really feeling. 

“Did you have to mad dog him? He was just saying ‘Hi’.” you tell him. Billy scoffs, moving to lean against the game. 

“Yea, right.” He says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You didn’t see how he’s been eyeing you, trying to work up the courage to come ‘say hi’.” he tells you, throwing air quotes around your words. 

“And how long were you watching that?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead.

“You’re missing the point.” He tells you, deflecting the question. 

“What point is that?” You ask, shaking your head as you dig a quarter out of your pocket and lean over to place it into the game. When you straighten up Billy has taken a step into your space. You could take a step back to give yourself some room, but you don't. You stand your ground, tilting your head up to meet his stare head on. 

“The point is that you’re playing a game you don’t know the rules of and guys like that-” he jerks his chin in the direction Keith had run off. “Will take advantage of that.” he tells you, his voice low. You know he’s too close. That you should take a step back. That the way he’s looking down at you is too personal. That either one of you could close the distance between you with a breath. 

“I’m not really good at games.” you admit, feeling the heat rushing to your face. Still you can’t seem to look away. Billy’s sharp gaze seems to soften slightly at your admission. 

“I know…” He says softly, his eyes shifting between yours. “I just watched you die 4 times and not even make it past the first level of Pac-man.” He says, his teasing smirk overtaking all the gentleness that had once been in his eyes. Finally, you pull back shocked.

“You stalker!” you accuse, Billy just chuckles turning to face the game. “And I was multitasking.” you try to defend your abysmal performance, gesturing to the group now huddled around galaga. 

“Sure, sure. Let me show you how it’s done.” he says confidently, starting the queued up game. 

“Hey! That was my quarter!” You protest. Billy only chuckles again.

“I’ll get the next one, crazy.” he tells you, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.

AN: sorry this took so long... again!

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[supercap2319]

"Fuck you look so sexy right now." Billy whispered. His hot breath on his boyfriend's neck as he covered his neck in bites and suck marks. They were in the lifeguard changing area where Billy told Y/N to meet him.

As soon as Y/N walked in; he was Billy's. He let him push him against the wall and ravish his mouth as he got a boner in his tight pink swim trunks. He let Billy tease his erection as he desperate want him. He wanted right here and now in a semi public setting.

"God, I wish I could bring you up to my lifeguard chair. Let you wrap your pretty boy lips around my cock and let everyone at the pool watch you whore yourself out for me." Billy's deep and husky voice said.

"Ah, fuck, Billy. Let's do it. Who gives a shit if you get fired?" Y/N's voice was dark with lust.

"Good boy." Billy smiled.

[undercoveravenger]

Intoxication

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “love potion mix-up with Billy Hargrove??”

A/N: Happy Spooky Month everyone! Here's the first post for the 2023 Spooky Month event - the next post will be dropping on Tuesday, October 10th. Hope you enjoy!

-----

Things had been strange ever since the arrival of Billy Hargrove and his little sister, Max.

Well, things in Hawkins had been weird for a lot longer than that, especially since you and your best friend Steve had befriended the group of misfit kids that called themselves “the Party”. They’d introduced the two of you to a secret side of Hawkins, where magic and curses and strange creatures ran amok. One of the kids, a girl named Eleven, was able to control objects with her mind and see beyond what was there. Another, Will, was psychic and could connect to other planes of existence. Dustin had a way of knowing how things fit together before anyone else could even guess. Steve’s coworker from Scoops Ahoy, Robin, was a witch. And now, Max and her brother. Werewolves, if what Lucas had told you was to be believed.

But you really couldn’t bring yourself to care much about Billy Hargrove. Not when so much of his life seemed to be spent antagonizing your best friend and trying to disrupt your comfortable station within the school’s hierarchy, seemingly dead set on turning your life upside down. Even at stupid parties like this one, you could hear people chanting Billy’s name while he faced off against Steve in a match of beer pong somewhere deeper in the house while you try to coax the sticker-covered flask away from Robin in the kitchen.

“Robs, babe,” you murmur, sidling up beside her and leaning back against the kitchen island, “I think Vickie likes you already. I know it’s scary to risk rejection, but a love potion isn’t the solution here.”

Robin nods slowly to herself, but her fingers don’t loosen around the metal. “But what if I can’t do it?”

You cock your head, smiling as she meets your eyes. “But isn’t asking her and knowing better than using that and not knowing how she really feels?”

It takes a moment of consideration, but your friend nods, setting the flask on the chipped marble countertop. 

“It’s more of an enhancer than-” Robin starts and it’s clear that you’re about to get one of Robin’s infamous lectures on the science of magic when she is cut off by someone snatching the flask from its place in front of the two of you.

“Aww, so sweet of you to have my next drink ready for me,” Billy Hargrove leers at you, unscrewing the cap of the flask even as his usual infuriating smirk slips over his lips, pretty blue eyes fixed on yours in with that intense, holier-than-thou look he always had. Just because he was tall and handsome and had pretty eyes and hair that you kind of want to curl your fingers into and use to pull him closer to shut him up with a kiss, doesn’t mean he could do anything but irritate you by looking at you like he knew something he wasn’t willing to share.

Your heart lurches in your chest as he raises the flask, you know you have to at least try to stop him, especially since Robin seems so stunned you’re not entirely sure she could say anything at all.

“Probably don’t wanna drink that, Hargrove,” you say, reaching out just in time to catch his wrist. “Might end up with something worse than a hangover.”

Billy leans forward against the counter, using his other forearm to prop himself up, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he looks at your hand, holding tight around his wrist, before his eyes shift up to meet yours. “You threatenin’ me?”

A derisive snort escapes you, and you gesture subtly for Robin to make her escape. The last thing you’d want is for Billy to figure out she had anything to do with whatever happens if he’s stubborn enough to drink the potion and start targeting her once it wears off. She catches your hint and mumbles an excuse about finding Steve, disappearing quickly into the crowd. 

“Of course not,” you say, releasing him and holding your hands up placatingly. Sure, you didn’t really want to spend longer than necessary around Billy Hargrove, but you wanted to spend time with a pissed off Billy Hargrove even less. “Just think it probably wouldn’t be something you would like, so I was just hoping to get it back,” you reached for it as you spoke, leaning across the island yourself to try to make a grab for the flask. 

Billy snatches it away, taking a long gulp from the mouth of the flask, grinning at you all the while. He pulls a face, but doesn’t wince the way one might at the burn of alcohol, but you can see the moment the look in his eyes starts to shift and the realization hits you with all the weight of a semi-truck.

Billy Hargrove had just taken a love potion while looking right at you. Billy Hargrove was about to be convinced that you were the love of his life.

“Well,” you say, eyes flickering around to look anywhere but at Billy, “I should really be going.” You push back upright, swiftly turning to make your way out the back door of the house and starting off down the sidewalk in the direction of your own home before Billy could speak. You don’t make it far before you realize you’re being followed, the scuff of Billy’s worn leather boots giving him away as he trails behind you.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” you call back over your shoulder, pace remaining steady even as Billy speeds up to walk beside you.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to be,” he drawls, lips quirking up into something softer than his usual sneer. “Just walkin’.” 

You study him for a long moment. “Didn’t you drive to the party? Surprised you’d leave your precious Camaro behind.”

“I’ve been drinking,” he shrugs, clearly trying to appear nonchalant. “Drunk driving’s dangerous, y’know.” He’s quiet for a minute and you find yourself almost wondering what he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to walk me home if that’s what this is,” you say, shoving your hands in your pockets and focusing your eyes on the way the lights on the stoplight a few blocks down flicker. “Steve already made me promise to call him when I get home.”

Billy huffs and he almost seems to be pouting when you glance over at him. “Don’t see why you’re with that loser in the first place. ‘s not good enough for you anyway.”

His words shock you enough that your steps falter and you have to turn to face him to see if he’s joking or not. Billy looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, steely blue eyes fixed firmly on you. 

You have to fumble for words for a minute, the first thing you’re able to force out being a weak protest. “Steve’s not a loser!” Then the rest of his words catch up to you, “And he’s just my best friend, anyways.”

Billy seems to brighten at that, a more genuine smile crossing his lips than you’d ever seen before. “So,” he says, moving toward you slowly. The dull orange glow of the streetlights makes his hair shine almost copper and his eyes flash that distinct werewolf silver as he stalks toward you, gently herding you backward until your back is pressed to the brick wall of some long-closed business and Billy’s in front of you, arms caging you in on either side. On any other day, you might’ve felt claustrophobic- trapped and threatened by someone determined to fuck up your life. But today- with that love drunk look in Billy's eyes and that fond grin on his face, you were hesitantly pleased with your position. "If you're not with Harrington," Billy starts, leaning just a bit closer, until you can almost feel the breath of his words against your lips, "Does that mean you're available to go out with me on Friday?"

Part of you is tempted to say yes- to give in to this sweet, intoxicating side of Billy and let this go as far as he wants to take it- but the rest of you knows that what's happening is wrong.

You press a hand to Billy’s chest, pushing him back enough to give yourself some breathing room. 

"I would, but this isn't real, Billy." You force yourself to say, "You drank a love potion tonight- this- you don't mean any of this."

Billy laughs then, full and unrestrained and the most genuine you've ever heard him be. "That shit doesn't work on werewolves. Metabolism’s too fast for it to really do much of anything," he says, grin unable to be helped even as his laughter subsides. "And even if it did, the stuff that your buddy whipped up just makes feelings that's already there easier to act on."

You blink, the pressure you'd been using to keep Billy at bay slacking as you think through what he'd said. If he hadn't been affected by Robin’s potion then- 

Billy nudges closer, slipping his arms around your middle and tucking his face against the side of your neck. "The reason I was always so shitty to Harrington is that I was jealous," he murmurs softly, and you can feel the way he grins just a little wider as you start to relax against him, "I wanted to have people look at me like they look at him. I wanted to have you look at me like I was him." 

You can’t help the way your hands come up to curl around him too, the way your fingers curl into his shirt, or the way you press just a bit closer to him. You can’t help the answering grin from carving its way across your cheeks at the thought of how pleased Billy seems to be at being the center of your attention, but you also can’t stop those few little questions from itching away inside your mind. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” The thought escapes you almost unbidden, before you can second-guess yourself, and you can’t help but keep talking. “Why didn’t you ask me out? Or- or just say hi? Something other than-” you gesture vaguely back in the direction of the party.

The tired sigh that escapes him makes it clear he knows you’re talking about his grudge against Steve and all the drama he’s stirred up for the two of you.

“It’s-” he has to pause and think over his words for a moment before he can continue. “My experience with love is… complicated. My mom died when I was little and my dad- he changed after that. Got mean. Angry.” He swallows hard, pulling away far enough to look at you, to really look at you. “He made it clear that he expected pretty specific behavior from me and anything that didn’t meet that wasn’t… good for me. Liking a guy- well, that was pretty far from what he’d expect.” His hands drop from your sides and he steps back a bit, arms crossing over his chest like he’s trying to distance himself from his thoughts. “So I was rude and sarcastic and I was mean to Harrington because at least that kept me in your peripheral.” He meets your eyes again, bright and open and honest in the orange glow of the streetlights, “But I don’t want to just be in your peripheral anymore.” 

With all of what he'd said playing through your mind, finding the right words is proving difficult. "If we’re gonna try this, you've gotta leave Steve alone," you start finally, heart squeezing with more fondness than you're ready to admit as you watch the realization of what you mean starts to sink in and a million-watt smile pulls at Billy’s lips. "And Robin and the kids, too.”

A giddy laugh escapes Billy and he takes your hand in his, tugging you back down the street in the direction the two of you had been walking. “That’s a deal I’d make a thousand times over,” he says, grinning brightly as he walked with you, fingers intertwined with yours, hands swinging easily between the two of you.

Conversation flows easily as the two of you walk and you’re more at peace with Billy now than you could ever remember being with any of your exes, he insists on walking you home no matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t need to. 

“Go out with me on Friday?” He says as the two of you stop at the foot of your driveway. “We could go for a picnic or to the drive-in if you want?”

When he’s looking at you like that, you can’t help but agree, quickly finding yourself more and more excited about your pending date. 

Billy kisses your hand before he lets go, stepping back as you turn away from him and head for your house. 

Billy smiles to himself as he watches you make your way up the driveway, keeping watch until you're safely inside, before turning and heading off in the direction of his own home. No, he knew he'd never have needed that love potion- not when it came to you. Billy Hargrove had been intoxicated by you since the first time he met you and he knows that isn't going to change any time soon.

[eli-com]

୧ *·˚ SLURPEES — BILLY HARGROVE

୨୧ includes — fem!reader, non-proof read thoughtless writing, lewd comments from Billy, mentions of sex, fluff fluff fluff, mentions of abuse, sweet billy, bit of ooc billy, somewhat sad ending?

— “Cant wait for the day I can take you away from this shitty fucking town.” Your boyfriend’s voice would pierce through the previous silence, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette as he spoke, the both of you watching as it rose and eventually vanished.

Billy had picked you up from your house after a big argument with his dad, the two of you driving around town in his Camaro for a while before eventually ending up at Lovers Lake, laying on the hood of the blue vehicle, staring up into the dark, endless sky above. You could pretend you were anywhere when you stared up at the sky, imagine you weren’t stuck in a town with unreal, murderous creatures, imagine you and Billy had met under better circumstances, imagine that the both of you were free to do as you pleased.

Billy had fallen for you the minute he set eyes on you during his first day at school. He’d been waiting to receive his class rota from the receptionist when the sound of a door opening caught his attention, his head turning and his eyes meeting those alluring (e/c) ones. You had a pretty smile on your lips as you waved goodbye to whoever was in the office; the principle, your dad. It was almost laughable how cliche it all was, you were the ‘sweetest girl in Hawkins’, the golden girl who had everything going for her, whilst he was the ‘troubled bad boy’ your father would never approve of. After your first encounter you seemed to appear everywhere, in the school halls, at parties, the supermarket, fuck he even spotted you when he was just driving around town. Billy had never been so drawn to anyone in his life, never felt such a craving for another persons attention — he hated it. Instead of accepting his feelings he’d done his best to forget about them, taking a new girl home each night, sometimes multiple at a time, but he never managed to get rid of the thought of you.

He’d taken a particularly harsh beating from his dad one night, driving around town as he usually did, music blaring to distract himself from the angry tears that poured down his face. He felt weak, aggravated, all kinds of thoughts running through his mind. He could leave now, just like his mum had, just keep driving and never look back. But where would he go? How would he afford the gas? Food? It wasn’t realistic, he may not be the best in school but he wasn’t stupid. So instead he parked up at the closest gas station, on the hunt for a new pack of cigarettes (he could go through a pack a day if things were particularly rough). Upon entering, his eyes were immediately drawn to you, standing over the slurpee machine and watching as the syrupy liquid turned, sipping on your own cup, almost as if you were lost in thought. You were dressed in some pink pyjama pants with little dogs in sweaters on them and an oversized hoodie, cute.

Billy almost debated approaching you for a moment, debated asking what you were doing at the gas station at 2 am, wouldn’t your dad be mad? Did he even know you were out? What if something happened on your way back and nobody knew you were out? He’d shake the thoughts away, approaching the counter, only to find nobody there, his features hardening once more as he slammed a hand down onto the service bell, looking around for any sign of an employee. That was when his eyes met yours, an amused smile playing on your lips, which were now stained purple from the mix of red and blue syrup. He couldn’t help but wonder how sweet you’d taste.

“Oscar’s out back, don’t think he’ll be back for a while, his lady friend paid him a visit and he looked pretty eager to drag her out of here.” You’d speak in that sickly sweet tone of yours, his brows raising in confusion. Oscar? You knew the employee by name? Surely he couldn’t be your boyfriend, otherwise you wouldn’t look so amused by the ‘lady friend’ part of the story. Billy would lean his hands onto the counter.

“Great, that’s great. His boss know he slacks off to have fun with his ‘friend’?” He’d question, eyeing the array of different cigarette brands behind the counter. Surely this guys friend could keep him occupied long enough for Billy to hop the counter and take a pack without anybody noticing? Well, anyone but you, but considering you were out this late, which Billy knew wouldn’t slide with your dad from his many encounters with the strict man, he didn’t think you’d be all too bothered.

“No, how would he know? Nobody’s gonna tell.” You’d shrug with a coy grin, waving your slurpee in the air. Was this guy bribing you with free drinks? Billy couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at his lips, you looked so proud of your small act of rebellion, keeping secrets so some guy could blow his load in the back of a gas station, surrounded by trash. Deciding to go for it, the teenage boy would hop the counter, analysing the different choices he had before picking up a pack of his favourites, immediately opening it and placing one between his lips, lighting it and giving an exhale of relief. “You’re Billy, right? You’re in my home room!”

Billy wasn’t surprised you knew his name, most people in Hawkins did by now, he wasn’t exactly shy, yet for some reason just the sound of you saying it out loud made his stomach feel funny. He’d never given much thought to his name, but god did it sound good coming from your lips. He’d hum in agreement, finally turning to fully face you, cigarette still dangling from his mouth. That’s when he heard the gasp of shock that left you, confusion washing over him as he watched you approach, backing up until he was practically sat on the counter, you between his legs and staring up at him with a weird look on your face. One of curiosity, one of concern? He wasn’t used to seeing someone look worried about him.

“Holy shit! What happened to your face, did you get mugged or something?” Right, now he knew why you looked so worried. His dad had delivered a powerful blow to the side of Billy’s face during their argument that night, and there was no doubt in his mind it was already beginning to bruise. The sight of you looking concerned for his well-being had his chest tightening, he could practically feel your breath on him from this position. Fuck, since when did other people have such an effect on him? He’d never even spoken to you before yet you managed to make his cheeks become a rosy hue just from a look.

“What? No, you really think someone would try fucking mug me?” He’d scoff, almost offended, rolling his eyes and dropping the hardly used cigarette to the floor before peering back down at you, hard features suddenly melting at the sight of that caring look in your eyes, the way your lips pulled into a small frown. Did you know how gorgeous you were? He didn’t think so, nobody who knew they were as beautiful as you were would be hanging about in Hawkins. No, in Billy’s mind you were pretty enough to be a model, fuck, if he had it his way you’d be on every billboard and magazine cover out there. He’d never get tired of seeing those perfect features. “I just- I ran into my door, earlier.” He’d internally groan at the shitty excuse.

You didn’t question him, which he was grateful for; you could tell he wasn’t all that eager to talk about whatever really happened at the moment and you didn’t want to upset him more, it was clear he’d already had a tough night. “Does it hurt? Looks like it hurts.” Without thinking you’d raise the icy cup in your hand, pressing it ever so gently to the side of his face where the bruising had occurred. He’d hiss, trying to move away from it as it stung him, but your hand would follow, making sure the cup didn’t leave the side of his face. “Stop moving, it’ll help.” You’d speak sternly; you were bossy, he guessed you probably got it from your dad. But rather than getting annoyed with you like he would your father, he found himself obeying, relaxing back against the counter and letting you hold the cup to his face, the ice inside somewhat easing the burning of the bruises.

The two of you stayed like that for god knows how long, refilling the slurpee cup every so often and talking about anything and everything; California, your dad, music — all sorts. Billy was just grateful to be given the chance to have such a long conversation with you, even if he hadn’t been the one to initiate it. Eventually the gas station employee would return, he looked maybe only a few years older than the two of you, a lanky boy with hair so long in the front that it had Billy wondering how he could see where he was going. He wore a dopey grin on his lips until he spotted the two of you behind the counter, immediately throwing his arms into the air and ordering you both to move, mentioning something about how he said you could help yourself to the slurpee machine and nothing more. Billy drove you home that night, and when he parked outside of your house you grabbed a pen that had for some reason been thrown onto his dashboard, writing your number down onto the palm of his hand and offering a cheeky smile before rushing off back to your home. Billy called you the minute he woke up later that day asking you to see a movie with him, and since then you hadn’t left each others sides.

Billy had never felt so much love for another person until he met you, never wished for someone’s presence the way he wished for yours. When his mum walked out and left him behind with Neil, Billy didn’t blame her, in fact he probably would’ve done the same. Maybe she wanted to leave every trace of her old life behind, and that included him. Maybe she saw how much Neil had fucked him up and feared he’d turn out just like him; that was Billy’s biggest fear too, but when he looked at you he knew there was no way he could ever hurt you, especially not in the ways his dad had hurt his mum. You made him feel like he didn’t have to hide how he felt, you validated his emotions, helped him calm down when he was panicking, treated his wounds when he got into a fight with Neil. You reminded him that life didn’t end the minute his mum left, and that he was worthy of happiness. You let him know he had the right to feel betrayed, that it really was possible for someone to love him despite his anger and stubborn nature. Billy didn’t usually think of the future, he had a hard enough time just coping with the present, but since he’d met you it seemed he couldn’t stop imagining what life could be like as you grew together. He couldn’t stop imagining living that comfortable life he’d always hated the sound of until he began to imagine it with you; buying a home, getting married, having children, he’d do it all, as long as he got to do it with you.

So, as he gazed up at the stars above you both, he couldn’t help but let his imagination take over, a sigh leaving him as he exhaled another drag of his cigarette. “‘M gonna make you the happiest woman in the world, I’ll make sure of it… Gonna become someone your dad would be proud to see you with, someone you can brag about to your fancy friends…” He’d whisper, eyes never leaving the sky, lost in a daze. Your dad had made it clear to Billy since the moment you confirmed your relationship that he did not approve, and as much as Billy wished he could say he didn’t care — he did. You were his other half, and he knew how important your dad was to you. He wanted to fit into every aspect of your life and hated to hear of all the arguments you had with your father over him, how you had to defend him constantly. He didn’t want to be the reason for the strain in your relationship with your father, it hurt him to see you so upset, but at the same time he’d never give you up just because somebody else didn’t approve. He’d be damned if he lost you all because of another persons opinion, you were it for Billy.

“I dont care what anybody else thinks, Billy, you know that… I’m proud to be with you. I’m proud of you.” You’d voice, turning your head from the sky to look at him, eyes trailing over his side profile, from the long lashes you’d always been jealous of to those pillowy lips you knew the feel of all too well by now. You could stare at him for hours on end, he was just so pretty. “You already make me the happiest woman in the world just by being with me.”

He couldn’t help but shake his head at your words, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, eyes momentarily closing. This was the gentle side to Billy that only you got to see, and you couldn’t be more honoured. The little touches, gentle kisses, longing looks; all yours.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, huh?” He’d mumble against your hand, crystal blue eyes opening and meeting yours, a timid smile on his lips. “Still, ‘m gonna get you out of this place, take you to Cali and show you all the places I used to hang, teach you how to surf if you’re up to it.” He’d grin at the thought of you on a surfboard — you’d always been extremely clumsy, and he’d pay to see you take a tumble off a surf board and into the ocean. As if reading his mind, you’d lean over to slap at his arm before he copied you, throwing his cigarette away and attacking your sides with his fingers, sending you into a laughing fit as he tickled you. “Why’d you slap me? You gonna say sorry?” He’d joke with a wide smirk on his lips, his hands never ceasing their attack on you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, involuntary laughs leaving you.

“Billy, enough! I can’t-” You’d break into another fit of giggles, doing your best to push your boyfriend off of you, but he didn’t budge. “William! I said enough!” You’d cry out, the use of his first name causing Billy to chuckle as he finally stopped tickling you, hands resting on your hips as he allowed you to catch your breath, leaning over your body, brushing his nose against yours affectionately. He'd always hated his first name, thought it made him sound old, but when he heard it coming from your lips? He couldn't have asked for a better name. “You’re an asshole.” You’d breathe out, lifting a hand and cupping his cheek as he smirked down at you, leaning into your touch almost instinctively.

“You’re so beautiful.” He’d lean in, whispering against your lips before capturing them in a slow, passionate kiss, one hand resting on your hip, thumb caressing it whilst the other travelled higher to your waist, his chest pressed to your own. Nights like these were when Billy appreciated you the most, the nights when you could make him forget about all his problems with just your presence — he had no idea where he’d be without you there to ground him.

“Meant what I said, every word of it. We’re gonna own a nice house on the beach and I’ll make sure it has a massive porch that you can practise your painting on… Can go for morning swims, I’ll get to see what you look like when I fuck you in the sand-” He was cut off by you sending another slap to his arm, only this time it was a bit harsher, causing him to laugh loudly. “I’ll buy you the biggest fucking rock of a ring you’ve ever seen, all the ladies’ll be so jealous, and all the guys will wonder what lucky bastard got to put that thing on your finger…” He’d place a tender kiss to your cheek before moving up to your forehead, then to your closed eyelids. “You’ll be the most gorgeous bride in the world, can’t wait to see you in one of those fancy dresses, all dressed up for me.” He’d lean down to your ear, lips grazing over it as he spoke, his breath blowing against it causing shivers to run down your spine. “Then ‘m gonna make you a mummy, yeah? Make your stomach all round, fuck, you’d look so good pregnant with my babies.” He’d nibble at your ear. “Just imagine it, teaching the kids to surf, watching them play on the beach… It’s gonna be perfect. Fuck, I hope our babies have your smile, gonna be the cutest kids around.”

His words had your chest tightening, a breathless smile on your lips as you stared up at him, hand slipping from the side of his face up to his head where it ran through his curls. If he hoped your future kids had your smile, you sure hoped they had his hair and eyes, they were two of your favourite things about him. It wasn’t hard to imagine a future with Billy, in fact, you’d been planning it since the moment you met the guy when you see both 17, the two of you now 18 and about to finish Highschool. Sure, you were still young, most people would likely say too young to talk about marriage and children, but you knew, you knew you wanted those things, and you knew you wanted them with Billy.

"You'll be a great dad, Billy, I just know it." You'd whisper back, arms circling around his neck and bringing him down into a slow, sweet kiss, your fingers tangling themselves in his hair, noses occasionally bumping and causing the both of you to breathlessly laugh. The moment was sweet, full of love and sweet promises.

And he would have been, had he been given the chance, had the summer not taken him away from you before he got the chance to fulfil any of those dreams. He would have found a way to buy you that ring, would have worked extra just to get that house on the beach, would have taken care of you and your children the best he could, made sure they would never have to wonder where they'd get their next meal, never feel any fear towards him like he felt for his own father. You just wish he had the opportunity to do all of that, wish the two of you hadn't met in Hawkins, wish he hadn't been driving to meet you that day.

[strangepoppy]

❤

Trial by Fire (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

Summary: “Every touch from Billy was like being lit on fire - ravenous and all-consuming. It had been a slip of tongue, a moment of weakness as his lips caressed your collarbone.”

Warnings: Romantic themes, coarse language, mentions of violence    

     The tension in the air was thick, much like the humidity that hung over Hawkins. The floor vibrated as the music pounded in the living room below.

“Billy…” you trailed off, not sure how to approach him as his guards were now on full defence. With bloody knuckles and a split lip, he paced the room, rage pumping through his veins like acid.

“What?” he said through gritted teeth, anger evident in his voice. Though he quickly retracted once he saw the hurt look on your face, asking once more in a softer tone. “What?”

“I don’t like when you act like this.” You admitted tearfully. “Because when you act out like this, I start to wonder if I’m making a mistake.”

“You think this is a mistake?” He asked lowly as the hurt was evident in his eyes. “What about all that ‘love me at my worst’ bullshit? Say it…Say loving me was a mistake.”

“No, because this isn’t the Billy I fell in love with. I fell in love with the Billy who lends me his favourite books with little notes stuck to the pages. I fell in love with the Billy who carried me to the car after prom, because my feet were sore from those stupid heels that gave me blisters. I fell in love with the Billy who-who made sure I was okay before we took things further than kissing. That Billy? That wasn’t a mistake.” 

“Why does this sound like your breaking up with me?” His voice cracked as he choked out the question.

“You tell me.” It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of you. “Maybe it’s selfish but…I’m scared that I’m going to lose you because of your temper, and I’m not putting myself through that.”

“Baby, where is this coming from?” He asked, reaching out to pull you into his embrace.

As he held you in his arms, he feared it was the last time he would get to touch you so intimately. To smell your floral scented shampoo and feel your warmth against his chest. He was going to hold you, anticipating that it was the last chance he’d have.

“What if it was three guys against you? What if I wasn’t there to pull you off?” you asked, not waiting for a response. “I’m not losing you, and I’m not letting you through your life away for a quick high.”

The fight with Marshall Devine seemed so minuscule in the grand scheme of things, yet to you, it was just another thumbtack on a cork board, all his outbursts connected by a red string that created a web of his self-constructed demise.

“I’m not going to die.” he murmured, feeling awful for throwing the first punch, seeing how distraught you had become over it. “Y/n, you should’ve heard what he said about you. It was disgusting, I wasn’t going to let him just-”

“No.” you interjected, hooking your fingers through his belt loops, tugging him closer. “Fuck that, fuck him and fuck this town. We’re getting out of here, okay? We have a chance, and you aren’t throwing that away. Got it?”

“Got it.” He smirked, looking at you from underneath his thick lashes.

    Every touch from Billy was like being lit on fire - ravenous and all-consuming. It had been a slip of tongue, a moment of weakness as his lips caressed your collarbone. Murmuring sweet nothings had turned into a deep, guttural confession with flushed cheeks. The muscles in his back stiffened beneath your fingertips as you looked up at him, with wide, wondering eyes.

“Sorry, that just came out. Forget it okay?” He pleaded as the pale moonlight bled through the curtains and onto his skin. “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“No, no it’s okay,” you reassured with a smile, brushing the damp curls that clung to his forehead to the side. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Just forget it.” He repeated, slowly lowering himself down to meet your lips. Desperately trying to erase the secret desire he had divulged, replacing it with the taste of his tongue.

“Please…please…please,” he murmured between kisses. His knuckles slowly turning white as he clutched the sheets, terrified he had shattered any illusion of normalcy that he had tried to muster.

You sighed into his touch, though his words lingered on your skin - “Marry me.”

Request: Hiiiii could you please do [Sprinkler, Party, Midnight] off your summer request list w/ Billy and it be angsty or fluff I don’t mind I love your writing keep it up!!! X (I hope you enjoy this! thank you for your support!

Check out my prompts here if you want to request one!

[malereadermaniac]

Heyo! ! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

So I'm planning to write a reaaaaal long fic. The literal bare-bones plan is 2.2k words! The problem is I can't decide on who the love interest should be It's heavily inspired by a series I've watched, so the plot is like all set, but I'm not setting it in that universe or using any of those characters; so I've compiled a small list for you guys to vote on who I should write about. Without spoiling too much: the fic is set at university, (male) reader & (your choice) character have a tutoring-for-sex/fwb relationship (it's a lot less weird in the fic), the reader wants a relationship but the love interest is too much of a playboy (insecure) to settle down. Angst. Angst. Angst. Fluff. SMUT.

I've narrowed down my character choice to 4! Because this fic is gonna be super detailed and a lotta effort I don't wanna waste it on a character my peeps dont fuck with! So, please help me out by voting on one of the following:

[mitzukiyapping]

Mute Child || Stranger things ff (draft)

A/n: Soooo… this is another draft from my Wattpad acc that I wanted to post…yeah.. Yes, I know that stranger things isn’t popular anymore, but every time I read one I cringe so bad… Also, on wattpad it's originally an oc story, but I changed it to a y/n for tumblr!

Pairing: y/n Hargrove x Eden Bingham. || platonic!stranger things x male!y/n

The old television was still humming when the knock was heard on the front door. Y/n sat cross-legged on the worn out red carpet, eyes fixed on the cartoon that was currently playing. Beside him his younger twin, Billy, leaned against his shoulder, half-asleep. Their mother was in the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes that never seem to get clean.

He didn't hear the door open. Or didn't see the two men in suits entering his run down house. But he felt it. Like a cold shower washing over his back. One of them had a smile on his face, his voice too sweet. The other didn't say a word. He only looked at them with those wide, unnerving eyes that creeped everyone out.

The man kneeled in front of the two children, blocking the running television. Billy now awakened by his brother's tense body, looked up with his half opened eyes. He also tensed up upon seeing the two strangers in their living room. Yet, the smile of the man never fell. No, it grew, almost like the rays of the sun in the summer.

"Hello there you two, my name is doctor Martin Brenner. But my friends call me Martin. Now, could you tell me what your names are?" The younger boy wrapped one of his arm around his brother's arm, his face unsure. "My name is Billy." The words were barely heard by the man. His eyes glowing with glee.

"Nice to meet you Billy."

The words were creepy to hear from a stranger, y/n narrowed his eyes.

The doctor looked at the older one expecting to hear something from him. Yet, he was meet with silence. Billy looked at them nervously, his arm tightening around his brothers. "His name is y/n. He doesn't speak that much, much less to strangers."

Their mother answered, finally emerged from the kitchen. The man nodded with the unnerving smile. "That's understandable, I am also afraid of strangers." He told the two boys.

The other man suddenly spoke up, his voice neutral and cold. "Doctor Brenner, we must go. Time is running." The two boys were confused and afraid of what is going to happen. Y/n tensed up even more, carefully and slowly pushing Billy behind his own tiny body.

A sigh was heard from the white-haired man as he stood up from his position. His body turned around and he nodded toward the direction of the front door. There stood two men also in suits, but more muscular and with guns at their hips. They both moved in their direction, towering over them like mountains. Without hesitating they packed the two boys by their arms, ripping them apart.

Billy's screams overturned the tv's noises, his voice cracking. "Y/n! Y/n!" His hands scratching the arms that are holding him, not allowing him to get to his brother. The other boy also tried to get out of the hold. His movement uncontrollably, panicked and scared. His eyes searching for his brother.

Yet, the boy was held back in the living room while he was dragged out of the room, out of the house. Outside he saw his father standing there with another man. Neil, the man who somewhat raised him, had a suit in his hand with a smirk plastered on his face.

The boy was too scared to speak, afraid of what might happen of he does.

He didn't even cry when they shoved him in a van.

Not when they arrived at a strange place.

Not even when they took his things.

Not even when they tattooed his wrist and called him "Two".

They told him that this place was his new "home". But it felt like a school with no children. Too white. Too quiet. The walls were humming with electricity, and the light was too bright and fake. The steps of the workers in the hallways were loud, guardians complaining about lunch- it was too loud, but at the same time it was too quiet.

Y/n sat in his new room, on the white empty bed that he shoved into the corner. His hands covered his ears. There were too many voices. Like a dozen of people talked to him at the same time, too fast. But not one of them belonged to him. Yet, he could hear one voice that he recognizes. Somewhere, deep under every other voice, was Billy. The quiet hiccups of his brother.

That night he couldn't sleep. Not like he wanted to. Instead, he sat sit hours upon hours in the same position. Facing the door. It felt like days passed when the door shrieked open. But, it probably was only a few hours. Doctor Brenner, or Papa, as he told him to call him now, was in his room. The man sat on the edge of his new bed, the kind smile on his face. Something to comfort and reassure the boy.

"You are special, y/n. Different. Unique. And I am going to help you understand that, help you control it. There are powers inside of you, that you may not know of. So, that's why I need your trust and help to discover them."

The Hargrove boy didn't answer. He tilted his head, unsure. His eyes gazing into the ones of the elder man, like looking into his soul. His mind drifted to his brother. How heartbroken he must feel, now that he's gone. How they're not going to fight over silly things anymore, or how he couldn't protect him from their father.

He longed to go back to him. But he knew, that won't be possible. So, he could only nod to the request of the man before him. Only hoping to see his brother again one day. No matter what.

It has been a few days since he arrived at this place. Every day he had to go through numerous tests, mentally and physically. Blood was taken from him, sometimes so much that he's nearly fainting. Or sit in a complete white room with no windows or something. Just pure silence. For minutes or hours, it's always different.

There were also moments where some doctors gave him something, either to swallow or they gave it him by a syringe. After that he would have headache after headache. Stomachaches, nose bleeding, and other symptoms.

The room they brought him to was smaller than his own. No bed, no sink. Just a single metal chair in the center of a tiled floor, and a table with a television on it. The screen was off. The room was cold. Too cold for his comfort.

Dr. Owens was there. He smiled, kindly, like he didn't want to be the bad guy in the story. But it wasn't his smile y/n noticed, it was his mind. 'He's just a boy.' Y/n didn't like to read the mind of people, but, sometimes he just does it without being able to control it.

Papa stood behind the glass. Always watching, like a predator watching its prey.

They placed the EEG cap on y/n's head. Tiny suctioned wires linked him to machines that blinked with green light and soft beeps. The monitor to his left showed nothing but waves, dips and spikes that made no sense to him, but told them, the sdoctor and Papa, everything.

Dr. Owens crouched beside him. "Can you hear me, y/n?" The asked boy blinked. Slowly. His head tilted - birdlike, curious, unreadable.

"Let's try something simple." Owens pressed a button on a remote, and the old TV flickered on. Static fuzzed across the screen. "I want you to try and turn this off. With your mind."

Y/n turned his gaze to the screen. He didn't move. Didn't blink. He didn't even dare to breathe. The lights in the room flickered. The static snapped into black. Then the machine behind him screamed. Loud and uncontrollable.

Y/n flinched, blood sliding from his left nostril. Dr. Owens let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good. That's good, y/n. That's very good." His voice didn't seem very convincing for y/n, but he didn't bother thinking about it.

The next test was different. Papa wasn't behind the glass this time. He was in the room with the young boy. A rat was placed in a cage in front of y/n. It had a twisted leg and wheezed painfully with each breath. The scientist beside Papa said something about "pushing the limits of healing touch."

Y/n didn't listen. He only reached forward, fingers trembling, and brushed the rat's paw with two fingertips. His own leg spasmed, cramping violently. The wheezing breath crawled into his lungs. He felt the rat's pain rush through him like a storm, yet he didn't stop. Not until the rat stood, healthy, and licked his fingers gratefully.

Y/n collapsed again. This time, he coughed blood onto the floor. The old man, called Papa, rushed to him. His face twisted in panic and worry. He held him in his arms like a real father might. Hands tight against his small shoulders. "You're doing so well, y/n. I'm proud of you. You're so very special."

But y/n wasn't listening anymore. He was somewhere else - with Billy.

The lights hummed softly, dimmer than usual. Evening hours in the lab meant silence - sterile and still. Most of the scientists were in their own rooms, or either went home, by now. The halls outside were empty, except for the occasional click of a guard's boots echoing down the hallways.

Y/n laid under his bed, legs stretched out, wrapped with gauze from ankle to knee. He wasn't in pain anymore, not exactly. But he didn't want to move. His back was pressed against the floor, arms loosely cradling a pillow he hadn't touched in weeks. His expression was blank, distant, eyes fixed on the door even though no one was there.

Not yet.

The soft beep of the security lock startled him more than he'd ever admit. His shoulders stiffened. The door opened. Slow painfully. Papa stepped inside. No clipboard. No guards. Just him. His eyes were tired.

He let the door slide closed behind him and stood for a moment, as if unsure whether to sit or speak. Y/n didn't move. Finally, Martin crossed the small space and sat on the bed, his legs touching the floor, aligned with the boys legs. The silence between them was like a third presence in the room. Familiar. Not hostile, but heavy.

"I should've known something was wrong sooner," Papa said quietly. His fingers placed in his place. The young one blinked slowly. His hands clenched slightly around the pillow. "I thought you were just tired," Martin went on, rubbing his palms together. "But I know better. You were hurt. You then always try to hide it."

Still, y/n said nothing. Martin glanced at him, his upper body leaning down to look at him. Not with his usual cold, clinical curiosity. Not like a scientist. Like a man who didn't know how to fix what he'd broken.

He leaned back up, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're not just another test, y/n. I hope you know that." A long pause. Then, softly and raw, a voice that hadn't been heard in days.

"...Then stop treating me like one."

Papa froze. His ear almost not picking it up. The voice was faint. Raspy from disuse. But unmistakably his.

Y/n didn't look at him, to leave the space under 5he bed. He kept staring at the door, like he wanted to leave but didn't know where he'd go. Martin leaned back slowly, breath caught in his chest. "You spoke," he murmured, almost to himself.

Y/n turned his head slightly, now looking up at the mattress from his place. For a moment, he looked like a boy again. Not a weapon. Not an experiment. Just a boy - scared, angry, exhausted.

"Papa..." he whispered again. His voice not being strong enough to speak louder. "...please promise to protect me." His voice cracked halfway through. The last word trembled.

Martin moved, slowly, kneeling beside the bed. He reached for y/n's hand, and, for once, Oriel didn't pull away. "I promise," Martin said, gripping his hand tightly. "No more experiments without me. No more pain without a reason. I swear to you, y/n. No one will hurt you again."

Another long silence.

Then, barely audible, y/n replied, "They already did."

And Martin could only hold him tighter.

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

Pretty blue eye Billy hugging his baby cakes from behind??🥺 or Steve kissing talaneys hands??? Or both???👉👈

Sleepy mornin' hugs are just the best~ 🩷

[cherryrainn]

HI MOOTIE !!! can i req either fluff to smut with adam, or, fluff with billy hargrove ?

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆 .

༄ ⠀𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | billy hargrove x reader.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | none really, just some stress

༄ ⠀𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | been writing for adam way too much so here's some billy fluff for my beloved mootie

You were sitting at your desk, surrounded by a sea of textbooks, notebooks, and assignments. Your stress levels were through the roof, and you were on the verge of tears from the overwhelming workload.

Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands, a sudden tap on the window made you jump out of your seat. You turned around to see Billy, grinning cheekily outside your window.

"Hey there, baby," he said, his voice muffled through the glass. "Mind if I come in?"

Rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a smile, you opened the window for him. "You know, you could've just knocked on the door like a normal person."

Billy climbed through the window, brushing off his jacket. "Where's the fun in that?" he teased, then noticed your stressed-out expression. “What’s … going on? You look like you're about to have a meltdown..”

You sighed, gesturing to the pile of work in front of you. "Just school stuff.“

Billy walked over to your desk, eyeing the papers and books scattered everywhere. "Shit, you weren't kidding. This is insane."

Before you could protest, he swept his arm across the desk, sending papers flying. "Billy!" you exclaimed, but he just grabbed you around the waist and lifted you off the ground, throwing you onto your bed.

"You need a break," he said firmly, climbing onto the bed beside you.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "I need to get this work done, Billy."

He shook his head, pulling you into his arms. "Nope, you need to calm the fuck down. Trust me, a little break won't hurt. Won’t do nothing.”

You sighed, melting into his embrace. "You're impossible."

Billy chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Only for you, babe."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until you were practically cuddling. "Better?"

You smiled, feeling your stress melt away for the first time that day. "Much better. Thank you, Billy."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet, reassuring kiss. "Anytime, sweetheart.“

You chuckled, nuzzling into his chest. "You're such a softie sometimes, you know that?"

Billy laughed, tightening his grip around you. "Only for you, Y/N. Only for you."

You lay in Billy's arms, feeling more relaxed than you had in days. But as the minutes ticked by, a nagging thought crept into your mind. Why wasn't Billy stressed about schoolwork like you were? Did he not have any? You weren't in any classes with him, so you didn't know.

"Billy?" you murmured, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"Yeah?" he replied, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

"Do… you not have any work to do?" you asked hesitantly.

Billy tensed slightly, his fingers pausing their movements. "Uh, not really. I mean, I do, but it's not as much as yours."

You furrowed your brow, sitting up to look at him. "But how? You're in the same grade as me, aren't you?"

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, but I... I guess I'm just better at managing my time."

You narrowed your eyes, not entirely convinced by his answer. "Billy, that's not fair. You can't just breeze through school while I'm drowning in assignments."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Y/N, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

You softened at the sincerity in his voice, reaching out to cup his cheek. "It's not your fault. I just wish I knew how you do it."

Billy hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. "Shit, alright. Promise you won't laugh?"

You nodded, curiosity piqued. "I promise."

"I... uh, I get some help," he admitted sheepishly.

"Help? What kind of help?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you know, some kids... they do stuff for me."

Your eyes widened in realization. "Wait, are you saying you get other people to do your schoolwork for you?"

Billy glanced away, a silly expression crossing his face. "Yeah, but it's not like I force them or anything. They just... offer."

Your eyes narrowed, staring at him with a knowing look. "Liar. You force them, don't you?"

Billy's eyes widened, and he looked away guiltily. "Fine," he admitted, avoiding your gaze. "But it's not like I threaten them or anything. They just... know better."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Not surprising. You are Billy Hargrove, after all."

“Fuck yeah, I am," he admitted, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his brazen response. Surprisingly, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. If Billy, notorious bad boy and rebel, could own up to his flaws without shame, then maybe you could too.

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 27: Gifts

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 27, Part 28 (Coming Soon)...

AN: Sorry about the wait Word Count: 3,816 Warnings: none

The rest of your night is spent tossing and turning in bed. The prickling along the skin of your hand and wrist are your only reminder of what happened in the car, not to mention the memories that flood your mind every time you close your eyes. Billy’s coy smile, how his eyes devoured your every move, the hungry glint in them at the sounds you made. Your stomach writhes, flipping and swirling the more your mind lingers on the interaction. 

It irritates you, the effect he has on you. Every smirk, or touch sends your heart into overdrive. It doesn't help that your experience with relationships up to this point have never gone further than hand holding. But, this electricity that exists between you and Billy seems to be short circuiting all your logic and reason.

You’ve never spent a lot of time thinking about things like this, you’re not a child, Nancy has told you plenty about her relationship with Steve. You just never took any interest in it. Until now it seems. You're plagued by thoughts of Billy pressed against you, his calloused hands holding you tightly, his lips against your skin, the feel of his hot breath mixing with yours. Fuck. 

You turn your head, releasing a pent up scream into your pillow until you're out of breath.

When exhaustion finally wins out, you’re cast into another restless sleep. 

———-

You’ve been here before. It’s dark and cold, familiar. Home. It’s quiet right now, for now. You’re not needed, yet. Fear twists through every tendril of your being, as much a part of you as the darkness. You can feel the shadow in your mind, waiting. Ready to bend, break if needed. You’re tired. But, there is no rest here. No peace. No hope. Forever. 

———

This is different. Not cold, warmth washes over you. The sound of crashing waves is rhythmic, almost like breathing. It soothes the initial panic of being in a new place, so bright and peaceful. It’s so different from the other place. You are able to glance around, there is no one else here. An empty beach. It’s nice. 

———

The sound of your mom trying to sneak out of your room wakes you the next morning. 

“Mom?” You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow, wiping sleep from your eyes. She stops, her hand on the door. She’s still in her scrubs, the only illumination in the room is the light coming in from the hallway. 

“Hey sweetie.” She greets you softly, turning to face you, an apologetic smile already on her lips. “I was just checking on you, go back to sleep.” She tries to reassure you. Your gut twists, you can barely see it in the dim light but it’s definitely there. The ever present worry you inspire in her. You were having some kind of nightmare, you can feel it in the tense in your muscles and the ache in your bones. Feeling the exhaustion that plagues you from the tension your dreams bring into reality. 

“I’m sorry mom.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair feeling the dampness of sweat. Her smile falters, pulling tighter at your apology.

“Don’t be sorry love. It just takes… time.” She reminds you. You know it’s what she needs to believe. That with enough time your mind will heal, that the nightmares will eventually fade. 

“It’s getting better.” The lie tastes bitter. Her shoulders sag slightly, like she can feel the lie physically. She won’t press though, both of you are happy to let it sit between you. It’s easier than facing reality. 

She pads over to your bed, gently stooping to press a kiss on your brow. 

“I love you.” She says softly. You can’t help the small smile that pulls from you. 

“I love you too.” You reply reflexively. You always say it back, just in case. It’s an easy truth, for the both of you. She pulls away, her smile a bit more relaxed than it was. “Go back to sleep.” She says again, patting your head as she steps back towards the door. She gives you a pointed look you know she normally only reserves for unruly patients, leaving no room for argument. 

“Alright. No need to pull out the nurse mom voice.” You joke, lying back down. She laughs lightly at your joke, slipping out the door. 

“Goodnight kiddo.” She says softly. You roll onto your other side, your back towards the door. You watch the light narrow into a sliver of the wall opposite you as she closes the door, leaving it open only a crack. Then laying still, you focus on slowing your breathing, listening to the sounds of your mom moving around the house getting ready for bed. She’s awake for another half hour, eating leftovers, looking through the mail, showering, and finally you hear the springs of her mattress creak as she gets into bed. 

You listen to the silence for a little bit. You like the quiet. Your life has been chaos for so long, from the moment you woke up in the hospital and every day since it feels like the world has erupted into too many sounds. Everyone talking, a constant low level buzz of activity. It’s sometimes enough to drive you crazy. 

When you're certain your mom is asleep, you quietly slip out of bed and get dressed. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you note that it’s only 6AM, still early enough for your morning walk to be peaceful. The house is still dark, but you move through it easily navigating in the dim light of morning. You gather your journal, and fill your water bottle placing both into your bag. When you go to put on your shoes, the dangling remainder of your sole catches your attention. You inspect the dilapidated sneaker for a moment, trying to think of the best way to cobble it back together. You eventually settle on duct taping the pieces back together, wrapping the tape around the shoe a couple of times to make sure it's secured. 

It’s not pretty, but technically it’s a whole shoe again. Satisfied that your solution is functional, you lace up your shoes and grab Steves’ jacket from the coat rack. Slinging your bag over your shoulder you head out the door. The dawn is cold, the sky a dim shade of gray, everything still cast in shadow the morning fog slowly creeping over the earth. 

You pick up a steady pace, heading for your favorite sunrise spot. There is a hill about a mile east that looks out over the currently barren fields and will be the first spot in Hawkins to see the sun. It also happens to have a very comfortable rock that is perfect for sitting and writing. 

By the time you reach it, the sun has just started to peak over the horizon, bathing the top of the hill in golden sunlight. You can feel its warmth on your exposed skin, the cold morning air still clinging to the shadows. You take out your water bottle and notebook, setting the empty bag down on the cold rock. You sit down, positioning yourself to face the sunrise, taking a moment to watch the earth in front of you slowly brighten, the light washing away the remaining shadows. It’s quiet here, as quiet as it can be in nature. There are still the chirps of the birds and the rustling of dead leaves as small animals pass by, but peaceful. 

You know that you can’t stay out too long. You may not notice the cold but your body still has a physical response to it and it's still the middle of December. So you open your notebook and begin.

The story you’ve been working on is not peaceful. It is a terrible story about a young boy raised to fight monsters. He’s known no other life, he was born with the burden of being the only one who can see these monsters, and he can never stop. But the older he gets, and the harder he fights to protect the world from evil, he realizes that a bit of that evil has taken root in him. It starts small, a black spot behind his ear, but it grows. It digs its roots in deep, twisting its way into his soul. 

In the beginning the young man starts off as the hero, but eventually the evil will consume him and he will become what he fought so hard against. You know the ending, but it’s not written yet. There is still hope in the middle of the story. 

When you notice the red tinge in your fingertips brought on by the chilly December air you stop and pack up your things. Taking one last glance around at the now illuminated field, you turn and head back home. 

You arrive at the same time Steve pulls into your driveway. You can see him through the window as you approach and he looks a bit worse for wear. His hair is damp, hanging loosely around his pale face. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses but are no doubt blood shot with circles under them. He cuts the engine as you approach the drivers’ side, opening the door to haul himself out with a grunt of effort. 

“Alright grandpa, how’s that hangover treating you?” You ask, unable to stop your teasing smirk even for his sake. He sighs heavily, closing the door just to lean back against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What kind of friend are you?” He asks, lifting a brow. “How could you let me drink that much?” You come to a stop in front of him, crossing your arms to mirror him. 

“Because according to you, you’re ‘a grown ass man’ who ‘knows how to handle his alcohol’, and because I ‘never let you have any fun’.” You say, throwing air quotes around some of the excuses he gave you when you tried to get him to slow down the night before. A bit of pink brightens his cheeks at the reminder, but he laughs good naturedly at your teasing. 

“Stop holding me accountable for my own actions.” He groans. “I don’t feel good, so I’m just going to blame you to make myself feel better.” He goes on, pressing his finger tips against his temples. His small smile brings a bit of life back to his ashen face.

“Oh of course. Whatever makes your life easier Steve.” You concede, your own smile pulling at your lips. He huffs a laugh, lifting his sunglasses onto his head. There is a beat of silence before he clears his throat, his cheeks flushing a bit more.

“And- uh- thanks. For, you know, babysitting me last night.” He says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his beck. Your stomach drops at the reminder, you didn’t think Steve was sober enough to remember much but apparently he remembered enough. You wonder if he remembers how he had held you against him, crying quietly in the kitchen while you whipped his tears. How he had gently lowered his forehead to yours and held your palm against his beating heart. You don’t want to press the subject, especially if he doesn’t remember everything. 

“Don’t mention it, I’ll bill your parents later.” You joke, forcing yourself to chuckle. Steve laughs lightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looks you up and down, nodding his head towards his jacket you’re still wearing.

“The jacket looks good on you.” He says. You look down at the old bomber jacket, moving to unzip it.

“Yea sorry I just borrowed it to walk home last night. I, uh, couldn’t sleep.” You tell him, the unspoken truth behind your words not lost on him. He’s familiar with your anxious habits that don’t always make sense. That you have a tendency to walk away when your brain won’t settle down. His hand stops yours on the zipper, pulling it away.

“It’s okay, you can keep it.” He tells you. “I don’t wear it anymore anyways.” He explains, looking down at his hand encircling your wrist. 

“Thanks Steve.” You beam up at him. He smiles back , his thumb running over the underside of your wrist. Your heart leaps. In that moment you wonder if he’s somehow feeling where Billy’s lips had been the night before. But that’s ridiculous. 

“It will be a nice reminder of me while I’m gone. Along with this.” He says, pulling something from his pocket. Your eyes widen at the sight of a delicate gold chain, glinting in the sun, a small pendant hanging perfectly in the center. 

“What is that?” You ask in confusion. Steves’ smile only grows as he drapes the shining metal over your wrist, easily clasping it in place.

“It’s your Christmas present. I’m giving it to you early cause I won’t be back until after new years.” He tells you, one hand still gently cupping your wrist. “The lady told me it’s real so it won’t leave a ring or anything.” He tells you as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

Heat flushes your cheeks as you inspect the bracelet. You take in the intricate beauty of the simple chain, small links twisting and interlocking into a light strand of glittering gold. A simple pendant hangs from the middle. A brilliant shining sun, catching and reflecting the light, casting off its own rays as it hangs from your wrist. It’s beautiful. More elegant than anything you’ve ever owned. Something twists low in your gut.

“Steve, I can’t take this.” You tell him, moving to unclasp the chain. He instantly pushes your hand away. 

“Of course you can.” He insists. Suddenly his eyes fill with worry. “Do you not like it?” He asks, his smile falling. Your stomach sinks.

“No, I- I like it, it’s really beautiful. It’s just too nice.” You try to explain. Steve sighs with relief, his smile returning in an instant. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a bracelet, it’s not like I bought you a car or something.” He laughs at his own joke. You struggle to maintain your smile. You know that money isn’t really an issue with Steve’s allowance but it doesn’t make you feel any better. He should be saving his money for school, not spending it on pretty things for you. Steve’s eyes catch on to your discomfort almost instantly. “Please accept it.” He pleads sincerely. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” He explains, one of his fingers flicking over the sun pendant. 

Your heart swells at the sentiment. It’s unbearably cheesy, and very Steve. When your eyes glance up to meet his you’re once again met with the big brown puppy eyes, the hangover makes them look especially sad. You have to suppress a groan. 

“Okay.” You finally give in, earning an ear to ear grin from Steve that pulls a smile out of you as well.  “Thank you, Steve.” 

“Merry Christmas, Babysitter.” He says, pulling you into a crushing hug. 

“Merry Christmas.” You reply, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tightly, pulling you up and into him. “I didn’t get you anything.” You admit, shamefully burying your face in his shoulder. His responding laugh shakes both of you.

“Can I request an official document declaring that I’m your best friend?” He asks. Your cheeks burn at the memory of you and Steve admitting that you are each other's best friends the night before. You laugh, trying to swat at him but he keeps his arms locked around you. “Can I get it notarized as well?” He adds, still laughing.

“Oh shut up.” You groan, earning another laugh. When he finally lets you go, you take a half step back. You’re hyper aware of the bracelet, holding your arm slightly away from your body to keep it from catching on any of your clothes and potentially scuffing it. 

“Aren't you flying out today? When are you supposed to head to the airport? ” You ask, glancing at your watch. 

“I was supposed to leave 10 minutes ago.” He tells you flatly. You gap at him. 

“You what? What are you doing here? You’re going to miss your flight you dork!” You practically yell at him, giving his arm a shot towards his car. 

“I had to come say goodbye.” He says, laughing as he opens the door and allows you to shove him into the driver's seat. 

“You could have just called!” You say, slamming the door closed as soon as his legs are in. You see him laugh again through the window. The engine roars to life as Steve cracks the window, still smiling. 

“No I couldn’t.” He says, like it’s a fact. That gets an eye roll from you.

“Get out of here before I’m stuck with you all winter break.” You tell him, unable to stop the small smile that he always manages to drag out of you. 

“I’ll call you from the resort!” He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the drive. “Don’t miss me too much!” He calls from the end of the driveway. “I’ll try!” You call back, waving goodbye as Steve gives you one last smile before pulling into the street. You watch the car speed down your street and disappear around the corner before heading towards the house. 

An uneasy feeling settles over you as you make your way to your door. You and Steve had quickly become inseparable since the night the gate closed, it was a seamless partnership. It made you feel like there was someone there who had your back. You know that Nancy and Jonathan are still close but the knowledge that Steve will be alone for the next two weeks fills your mind with a low level of anxiety. 

A chill snakes down your spine and your hurry into the house. You feel unsettled from the thoughts of Steve being so far away and practically unprotected, your palms itch with the need to do something. Instinctively you begin checking the safety of your own home. Moving quickly and efficiently you check locks on all the doors and windows, then lay hands on all the hidden weapons in the house. When you’ve checked all of them, you settle at the table with your fathers Barretta, pulling out the cleaning kit. It's monotonous work, but cleaning the pistol always seems to ease the itch in your hands when your anxiety picks up. 

Rolling up the sleeves on the jacket your attention catches on the glint of gold around your wrist. You examine it for a moment, looking at how the delicate chain contrasts against your sun damaged skin. How it stands in opposition to your calloused hands, your fingernails chewed down to the quick, cuticles picked to an angry red. Your stomach twists. 

It really is a beautiful piece of jewelry, delicate and perfectly balanced. Traits you can’t see in yourself. It really is too nice for someone like you. 

What if you broke it or scratched it? What if you lost it on a walk? What if you fucked it up?

It’s too good for you. You wish it wasn’t, but it is. 

You carefully unclasp the chain, lying it gently on the table before you start cleaning. You lay out the cleaning supplies, setting the pistol down on a rag in front of you. Then you settle into the process of disassembling and cleaning all the small pieces of the weapon. You remember when Hopper had taught you how to properly clean a gun. He told you that he and your dad would sit in silence for hours just sipping on drinks and cleaning the small harmless parts of the deadly machines. He always stressed that it was vitally important for you to understand the inner workings of a gun before ever picking one up. How all the pieces fit together, and if even one small part was missing or broke it would alter the functionality with devastating results. 

Your fingers slowly darken with the combination of CLP cleaning oil and burnt carbon. You work diligently, rubbing at any blemishes remaining. When you’re satisfied that the gun is clean, and the anxiety in your mind has lessened slightly, you reassemble your gun and pack up your cleaning kit. 

You move to grab the pistol, intending to put it back where it was hidden in your nightstand but pause your eyes catching on how dirty your hands are. You go to the sink and scrub at your hands until they are rubbed raw. When you’re sure that no remnants of carbon or oil cling to your hands, you pick up the gun in one hand and the gold bracelet in the other. You walk to your room, securing the pistol to the underside of your nightstand and placing the glimmering chain on the surface. 

You can’t risk accidentally damaging it. Better to keep it here, safe. Your fingers ghost along the edges of the sun pendant, still managing to catch some of the light, glimmering up at you. 

The sound of a revving engine causes you to jump. 

Billy.

Your eyes dart to the time. 1156. You had lost track of time and nearly forgotten that Billy told you he would pick you up at 12. Not knowing what to expect, you just grab your bag, still packed from your walk, and head out the door before Billy can make enough noise to wake your mom. 

Before you step out the door, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you have killed monsters before and faced shady government agencies, you should not let Billy fluster you the way he does. You are going to be so calm, he’s going to get bored and stop teasing you. That’s the plan. 

His eyes are on you from the moment you step out of the house, his gaze follows you all the way to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat you notice he’s playing a cassette, it’s the first time you’ve actually recognized the song. You can’t remember the name, but it’s one of the songs Max showed you that day after school. 

“You didn’t have to drive me.” You tell him, buckling your seatbelt. Billy immediately rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh. 

“Yea, tell that to the duct tape holding your shoes together right now, loca.” He shoots back. 

“It’s only one of them.” You grumble, settling into your seat. Billy just chuckles.

“It’s just a ride crazy, don’t make a big deal about it.” He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of your driveway.

AN: sorry this took so long 😬

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[thewritingofamadwoman]

The Drummer

I bounced on my heels excitedly as people squeezed past me with their drinks in hand, chatting and catching up. Tina Cline’s annual summer bash was in full swing, but this year was different. This year, “DeadMan Walking” was performing. I was standing in the middle of a bustling party, wrapped up in my boyfriend’s signature leather jacket as I waited for the band to start. I watched as Billy and his friends setup up their sound equipment around Tina’s pool, admiring how incredibly handsome (and hot as fuck) Billy looked while connecting the guitars to the speakers and adjusted the symbols on his drum-set. As if sensing my gaze on him, Billy looked up and we locked eyes. I smiled and gave a little wave and he smirked back with a wink before taking a seat behind his drums, twirling a drum stick in each hand.

The crowd danced and cheered as the band began to play, but my gaze stayed on Billy, admiring everything he did. The way his hair flowed as he thrashed his head to the beat of the drums he played, the way his leg bounced perfect in time with the music. He was a God and he knew it. He was wearing his infamous denim vest, and his biceps were on display; the muscles bulging with every moment, glistening lightly under the lights Tina had setup for the band. The music was infectious, and I found myself bopping along, singing loudly. Three songs later and I was practically hoarse from shouting out gleefully.

Once the final song ended, the backyard erupted in cheers. People were whistling and shouting for more as Billy and his band members cockily waved out to the crowd. The lead singer and base guitarist hopped off the stage and went straight to the punch bowl, a gaggle of girls following right after them. A few waited for Billy, but I paid them no mind knowing exactly where he was going once he hopped off the stage gracefully.

Our eyes met and a predatory smile stretched along his handsome face as he made his way to me, immediately wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me up, spinning me around as I giggled. When he finally set me down, I was pressed flush against him, his arms wrapping around me underneath his leather jacket.

“So,” he rumbled. “What’d you think?”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, twirling a soft blond curl in my fingers as I smiled widely at him.

“Babe, you were amazing. You all were, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You crushed the shit out of that set!”

Billy smiled again, this time with a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“As long as you like it, then that’s all I care about,” he said, pulling me in closer and nudging my nose with his. I smiled at the action, knowing how far Billy had come; from hating non-sexual PDA to gently intertwining my hand with his as we walked down the halls.

“I love you, Hargrove,” I whispered, closing the gap between us and pressing my lips against his. Billy reciprocated, kissing me back gently but fervently, one hand sliding down my sides and gripping my hip while the other slid up to cup my neck, holding my face to him. I could only imagine the sad look on some of the other girls in the crowd but I lost track of my thoughts the second I felt Billy’s tongue gently probe into my mouth, his fingers digging into my hip. I unwrapped my arms from his neck and dragged my hands down over his chest gently, gripping onto the denim jacket for support as I found myself slightly lightheaded. Billy broke the kiss slowly, a devilish look on his face.

“How about you and I skip the party,” he said, grabbing on to my right hand and guiding it to his behind and pressing my hand to his back pocket. I could feel the very familiar square shaped item in his pocket and raised my eyebrows before laughing out loud.

“Prepared, are we?” I asked teasingly and I began to pull him towards the gate that would lead us back to his Camaro. Billy smirked again.

“Always am, baby. Always am.”