#Billy Hargrove x You

[sadhours]

the diner - part three

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

part one - part two

read on ao3

He’s fucked up royally. Went and got himself caught. Spent two whole weeks expecting the cops to show up to his apartment or his work. It never happened. Half expected his boss to mention it, ask him why he’s peeping through girls’ windows. Nothing. Yet he won’t dare go into the diner.

Doesn’t go to your house for a week. He drives by to see if your car is there but it’s not. Goes to your ex boyfriend's place first, doesn’t see your car and then he goes to your parents house. Confirms you’re there. But Billy doesn’t investigate further. He goes home. Drinks himself into absolute oblivion. Drinks so much he talks to Maxine. But she’s not really there. It helps him though.

“I killed him,” he tells her, voice is so rough from the vomiting. He has to make sure the slugs are all gone. Checks twice a day. Pukes every morning and every night. No slugs.

“He deserved it,” Max tells him. She’s on his countertop. She’s curled into herself, she’s got dark eyes and greasy hair. Her clothes are covered in the slop of the upside down. Her face looks as sunken in as his feels. She fidgets a lot.

“He cried,” Billy offers, voice flat and emotionless as he relives it. “I told him I wished I’d done it sooner. Brought him to the monster. So I wouldn’t have to do the hard part.”

Maxine is curious. Wants details. “How did you do it?”

“Stabbed him. I don’t know how many times— a lot. It was messy,” Billy whispers. Knows the apartment is empty, though he’s staring right at a sickly step sister. A burdened one. A step sister who isn’t really here. He checked in— knew she was alive. In a rundown trailer with a drunken Susan. Blames himself. He knows Susan took a lot of the brunt of Neil but he paid for everything. Even if he hit Susan, he took care of her— kept her clean. He told Billy how he’d found her. How he saved her and her little girl. And Billy hated them. Because he couldn’t be saved. But he hated Max most because Neil didn’t touch her. Susan was in the same boat as he was. She knew how Neil was. First hand. Max only seen it secondhand. Max watched as Neil hurt him. Max heard it when he hit Susan. Crawled into Billy’s lap, sobbed and clung onto him. Billy apologized, told her he wished it was like it was before. Where Neil only had him to hurt. Told Max that her mom didn’t deserve this. That he did. Rubbed her tiny back as she cried into his neck and told him she missed her dad.

“I hope he suffered,” the image of Max tells him. Has this sadistic smile that looks foreign on her young face. She looks supernatural. Like a demon, maybe like the devil on his shoulder as he recounts this devpraved moment of his life.

“I liked it,” he exhales, “I felt so fucking good when the life left his eyes. I laughed. I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Max grins and nods.

“I kept stabbing him. Blood was gushing out everywhere. I was fucking covered in it but I couldn’t stop,” Billy whispers, his own lips curling up like the little demonic step sister on the counter. “He looked so fucking pathetic and weak.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Billy feels warm all over.

“You saved us.”

It’s his imagination. Neil left them as soon as he heard Billy had died. Billy wishes he had died. But he… he didn’t. He remembers the monster penetrating his skin and muscle and organs. He remembers staring into the strange girls eyes as it happened. But then he woke up. In that hellscape. Had to live in it for god knows how long. Worked his way around, killing weird demonic creatures until he saw this… thing in a tree. Like a mirror. And he shoved his hand through it, and there was something on the outside. So he crawled through it. Found himself in the woods of Hawkins. Covered in slime and filth.

He didn’t save Max. Or maybe he did. He’s not sure.

Max keeps smiling this creepy smile. Billy feels safe. He talks to her for hours and hours that night.

—

Billy’s elbow deep in an old Ford truck. One of the farmers here. He told the fucker it was time to retire the truck. The transmission is fucked, flooded with fluid. Can’t hold onto gears. But the guy insists it’s a quick fix so Billy sent him off, told him he’d try his best.

And he is. He’s covered in oil and fluids. Hair tied up and sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He’s completely dismantled the engine. And he’s chewing on his lip as he stares down at the parts laid out on the concrete floor of the shop when the bell dings. Alerting him someone’s come in. He’s the only one here so he ventures out to the front. Sees a confused looking you. An uneasy look on your face when you see him and he gets it.

“Hi.”

“My cars not working,” you say. “It won’t start.”

“You try to jump it?” he asks, grabbing a towel on the counter and tries to clean his hands.

You fidget with the strap of your purse as you shrug and admit, “I don’t know anything about cars.”

He heaves a sigh, looks back at the dumb ford and looks to you, “Where’s it at?”

“In the parking lot,” you answer softly. “I-I don’t know what I did.”

“Hey,” he shakes his head, “Shit happens. It’s okay. It’s probably a dead battery. Did you leave the headlights on or something?”

“No!” you reply, shaking your head profusely. “It was fine on the way here, I don’t know what happened.”

Billy grabs his keys, “Let’s try to jump it. Go stand by it.”

You nod and rush out of the shop. He gets in his car, drives the short distance to yours and parks in front of it before popping the hood. He’s fucked kind of. Now you know what car he drives.

He grabs his jumper cables from his trunk and walks back around. “Open the hood,” he instructs you. He likes you following his orders. You obey, watching as he connects the cables and he tells you to go try to start it. Nothing. It clicks and clicks.

“Press down on the gas!” he calls to you and again, nothing.

The two of you keep trying for a while before Billy decides to run into the shop. Grabs the right battery and brings it back out. Replaces yours with the new one but your car still doesn’t start.

“Alright,” he sighs, “it’s probably the alternator. Let’s get it into the shop. Put it in neutral and I’ll push, you just gotta steer.”

It’s kind of a frustrating journey. He has to keep yelling at you to turn the steering wheel as he’s pushing it. He hopes you recognize how strong he has to be in order to push your car. But then he’s screaming at you again to push on the breaks. But eventually, the pair of you get your car into the shop. He tells you to take a seat and he disappears to find the parts he needs.

Then he comes to you with an apologetic face.

“I gotta order something. Might take a week or two to get here,” Billy tells you, braces for you to be angry like most the fuckers that come in.

You just look defeated, “What’s wrong with it?”

“I think it’s just the alternator,” he replies, “it’s really an easy fix. But I don’t have it in stock.”

“A whole week? How am I supposed to get around?” you reply, voice so shy and quiet and sad and it kind of makes his dick twitch. He ignores it.

He shrugs, “I… I mean… we work next door to each other. I could drive you.”

The uncertainty— perhaps fear, is clear on your face. So he clarifies, “I mean if no one else could.”

There’s this weird feeling weighing in. He creeped into your window. You both know it. But when he was caught, he ran and he ignored you completely until now.

“Can you at least drive me to my parents?” you ask.

Billy nods, “‘Course. Let me lock up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to like, stop what you’re doing and right now,” you tell him, eyes all wide and pretty.

He laughs and shakes his head, points to the Ford and tells you, “I wanna burn this fucking thing so really, I need the time away.”

“Worse than my car?” you ask with a smile and he nods.

“This thing is deader than dead. A fix that costs more than the fucking whole truck but this dude insists it’s not that. As you can see, I’ve taken the whole engine apart and uh— as I thought, the fucking transmission is full of metal shards. So yeah, worse than your car,” he explains as he scratches the back of his neck.

“You know a whole lot about cars, huh?”

“I hope so. It’s kind of how I make money,” he says.

You nod. Subtle smile on your face. Like you know something he doesn’t. He wants to. He walks away to lock the place up, walks you out towards his car and lights a smoke before he gets inside. He asks for directions but Billy knows exactly where your parents live.

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I really appreciate the help… I have no idea what I did to make my car break.”

Billy laughs, turns towards you and shrugs, “Sometimes they break, nothing you did to make that happen.”

“I probably did something, my dad tells me I have to let it warm up and I never do,” you say and look ashamed as you say it.

“He’s right, but that’s not what caused this. Your car is like 20 years old, stuff is gonna break,” he insists.

The ride to your parents house is awkward— silent aside from the directions you mumble out. Billy smokes one after another Marlboro, keeps his body aimed forward without a glance your way. But in the small interior of his beat up car, he can smell you. A mostly unpleasant smell from the greasy diner food but faintly he can detect some floral, citrusy thing underneath. Perfume, he thinks or maybe your shampoo. He wants to smell it uninhibited, fresh out of the shower and laid on a bed for him.

Upon arriving at your parents house, you flee with only a short goodbye. A barely there whisper. Not even a thank you, which Billy thinks is fucking rude. And you run into your parents house, closing the door without a look over your shoulder.

It fills Billy with anger, a familiar feeling. The emotion he’s always been quick to. Times like this he really misses his Camaro. Could put his boot to the pedal and zip off, leaving the anger with the burnouts in the pavement. But the Camaro is long gone and he’s driving a fucking Ford Capri and it not kept well. Rusted to shit and he’s had to basically rebuild the engine piece by piece since he got here. His boss is nice, helped him out a lot with stuff but Billy’s not sure how much longer he can stay here. Especially with you going and seeing him peeking into your window. But more than that, he don’t wanna leave without getting something from you.

[nameless-ken]

Between Us and the Dark - Billy Hargrove x Reader

Part One

I've had lots of different thoughts lately and needed to get this one out there. I think it might be a short series!

Please comment & reblog <3

Word count: 4.5k

The usual heat of the California sun beats down on you, but it doesn’t faze you. You’ve grown used to it, the warmth on your skin almost a comfort as you walk down the familiar path to your dad’s auto shop. The smell of oil and gasoline greets you before you even reach the door, a sharp, earthy scent that’s become part of your life. You can hear the hum of engines in the shop bay, the rhythmic clanging of tools striking metal in a symphony that’s as routine as breathing.

You smile as you approach the door, holding it open for an older couple leaving the shop. They thank you warmly, their smiles lighting up their tired faces. You return the gesture, gripping the paper bag in your hand tighter to make sure it doesn’t slip. It’s become a habit, one you can’t quite let go of.

Inside, the shop is a blend of grease-stained work uniforms, car manuals, and the ever-present scent of motor oil. Your eyes immediately fall on your dad behind the front counter, scribbling something in his worn leather notebook. The same notebook he’s kept for as long as you can remember. His brow furrows in concentration, but the moment he sees you, his face brightens.

“There’s my favorite daughter!” he calls out, a grin stretching across his weathered face.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in his voice never fails to lift your spirits. “I’m your only daughter, but thanks for the honor,” you say, stepping closer to the counter and passing him the brown paper bag. “Here’s lunch.”

“You know,” he starts, opening the bag and peeking inside, “I keep telling you, you don’t have to bring me lunch every day.”

“I know, but Mom always did, so I thought I’d keep up the tradition.” Your smile wavers just a little, sadness seeping into your voice. It’s a subtle shift, but your dad notices.

“She’d be proud of you,” he says softly, his hand resting on your shoulder. The weight of his touch is reassuring, familiar. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, the noisy shop around you seems to fall away.

“Same to you,” you say, patting his hand as you both take a beat, a quiet tribute to the one who should still be here.

After a pause, you clear your throat and offer, “I was thinking maybe we could order pizza tonight and watch Ghostbusters, you know, like we used to.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Y/N, you’re twenty-one. You should be out with friends, raging, bar hopping, staying out until three in the morning, not sitting here with an old man like me.”

You follow him as he walks towards his office, leaning against the doorframe as he sits at his cluttered desk. “Maybe I don’t want to do all that stuff. I like our weekly dinners and movie nights.”

He takes a bite of the sandwich you brought him and looks up at you with a mix of affection and concern. “I understand, sweetheart, but you can’t hide away from life forever. Trust me, you’ll regret it. And… she wouldn’t want this for you.”

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. Your mom had always been the one pushing you towards your dreams, always talking about what your future could be. She’d been so excited to help you look at colleges, to plan for what came next. But then, in a blink, everything changed. A normal day, a routine drive to bring your dad lunch, and she was gone. A collision. A wreckage you still couldn’t fully comprehend.

Your dad never says it directly, but you know he hates that you keep bringing him lunch, just like she used to. It’s a shadow you both live under, even if you don’t talk about it often.

Before you can respond, the sound of a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Hey, boss. We got an issue with the engine on the Mustang, and I’m not sure what’s up with it.”

You turn, slightly startled, and your breath catches in your throat. Standing a few feet away is possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. His curly, sandy-blonde hair falls messily over his forehead, his strong jaw covered in a light scruff. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built, with grease smudged across his muscular arms and the collar of his work shirt. His striking blue eyes flicker toward you for the briefest moment before he looks back at your dad.

Suddenly, the air feels a little thicker, and the usual warmth of the shop becomes stifling.

“I’ll check it out after lunch,” your dad responds casually, glancing between you and the man. “Oh, Y/N, this is our new hire, Billy. Billy, this is my daughter—Y/N.”

For a moment, Billy’s eyes meet yours, and something unreadable flickers behind them. He’s stoic, almost detached, but there’s something intense about the way he looks at you, even if it’s just for a split second. He gives a quick nod, muttering a brief, “Nice to meet you,” before turning back to the shop floor.

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly shake it off, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, too,” you manage, though your voice feels oddly small.

As Billy disappears back into the garage, the clanging of tools picks up again, but you’re still stuck in that moment, staring at the spot where he just stood.

Your dad chuckles, noticing the slight flush on your cheeks. “Be careful with that one,” he says. “He’s got a lot going on.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” you reply, more to yourself than to him, already feeling your curiosity about Billy stirring, though you can’t quite place why. There’s something about him that pulls at you—a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

And you’ve never been one to shy away from curiosity.

You glance at your dad’s office phone, your thoughts drifting to his words. You’ve never been much of a drinker or partier, but maybe, just this once, stepping out of your comfort zone wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Your fingers hover over the phone, a moment of hesitation gripping you before you pick it up and dial.

After a few rings, your best friend answers. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?”

You take a deep breath, feeling a spark of excitement mix with nerves. “Call the girls. We’re going out tonight.”

You hang up the phone with a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy thrumming in your chest. Tonight will be different. As you move toward the door to leave the auto shop, your hand on the doorknob, you pause when you overhear two workers talking in hushed voices just outside the office.

“I’m telling you, no one really knows why he moved here,” one of them says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“From Indiana, right? Hawkins, I think it was called,” the other one responds, sounding skeptical. “Strange though… he showed up out of nowhere, didn’t talk much about it.”

“Yeah, kinda makes you wonder what he’s running from.”

You frown, straining to hear more, but the workers move further away, their voices fading. Indiana? Hawkins? The mention of Billy catches your attention, and suddenly, his quiet demeanor and distant gaze feel more than just personality quirks. It feels like he’s hiding something. Questions swirl in your mind, and you can’t shake the unease that settles over you.

Just as you’re about to leave, you catch sight of Billy through the garage’s wide door. He’s standing by a vintage Camaro, focused intently on the engine in front of him. For a moment, you watch him, captivated by how effortlessly he works—his hands moving with practiced precision as he tightens a bolt.

There’s something mesmerizing about the way he moves, but it’s more than just his skill that keeps you watching. It’s the way his shoulders tense, the slight furrow in his brow. Even when he’s alone, he seems guarded, as if he’s carrying something heavy inside. You can’t help but wonder what it is.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoes from the other side of the garage—a dropped tool, maybe. Billy flinches, his body jerking in a way that’s too sharp, too instinctive for someone just surprised by a noise. For a split second, his face changes. His usually controlled expression slips, revealing something raw and haunted beneath the surface. His eyes dart around the shop as though expecting some unseen threat. Then, just as quickly, the mask is back, his jaw tightening as he returns to the car, his focus seemingly restored.

But you saw it.

Your heart races a little faster as you stand frozen in place, wondering what could have shaken him like that. It wasn’t the reaction of someone merely startled—it was the reaction of someone who’s been through something. Something bad.

You swallow hard, the overheard whispers of his past mixing with the image of that brief, vulnerable moment. There’s more to Billy than the quiet mechanic who keeps his distance. Much more. And suddenly, you’re not sure whether you’re intrigued or unsettled by it.

Before you can think too much, Billy’s eyes flicker up and meet yours. For a moment, you think he might have caught you staring. His gaze is unreadable, but there’s a tension in the air that makes you shift uncomfortably.

You quickly turn, pulling the door open, your pulse still racing as you step into the afternoon sun. The warmth that once felt comforting now seems stifling, and as you walk away, the questions linger in your mind, heavier than before.

Who is Billy really? And what exactly is he hiding?

The bar is alive with energy the moment you walk in. Dim lighting casts a warm glow over the crowded space, with low-hanging bulbs swaying slightly as the door swings shut behind you and your friends. A jukebox in the corner hums out classic rock—The Eagles, maybe Fleetwood Mac—songs everyone can sing along to after a few too many drinks. The scent of spilled beer and fried food lingers in the air, blending with the constant murmur of conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter from groups huddled around tables.

Your friends lead the way, weaving through the crowd with the confidence of locals who’ve been here more times than they can count. They head toward a high-top table near the back, just close enough to the bar to keep the drinks flowing, but far enough from the dance floor to avoid the inevitable chaos of drunken swaying. You slide into your seat, the polished wood cool against your hands as you try to settle into the night’s atmosphere.

But something feels off. The noise, the clinking glasses, the shouts for another round—it all seems distant, like you’re watching it from behind a thick pane of glass. You force a smile, laughing at one of your friend’s jokes, but your mind keeps wandering back to earlier that day.

Billy.

You hadn’t been able to shake the image of him—his tense posture, the way he flinched when that loud noise echoed through the auto shop. And the whispering... The workers had been vague, but the mention of Indiana and Hawkins kept circling in your thoughts. What was Billy running from? Why did he seem so… haunted?

“You alright, Y/N?” one of your friends asks, her voice cutting through your haze. You blink, realizing you’ve been staring down at your drink, fingers tracing the rim of the glass absently.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.” You force another smile, trying to push the day’s thoughts aside.

“Sure, that’s why you’ve been spacing out all night,” your best friend teases with a knowing grin. “Bet I can guess what—or who—you’re thinking about.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the flush creeping up your neck. “It’s nothing, really. Just… something weird happened at the shop today.”

“Oh no, here we go.” Another friend leans in dramatically, her eyes twinkling. “Spill it.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s nothing big. I just… overheard some of the guys talking about Billy.”

“Billy?” your best friend raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “The hot new guy who works for your dad?”

You nod, glancing around the table, feeling their eyes on you. "Yeah, they said something about him moving here from Indiana, but no one really knows why he left. And then, today, he kind of… flinched when something loud dropped in the garage. It was like he was spooked, you know? Like something was really bothering him."

There’s a pause before your friends burst out laughing, not in a mean way, but in that teasing tone they always use when they think you’re overthinking things.

“Oh come on, Y/N. You’re making it sound like he’s hiding from the mafia or something,” one of them chuckles, taking a sip of her drink.

“Or maybe he’s just shy,” your best friend adds, winking. “He is ridiculously good-looking. Who wouldn’t flinch under that kind of attention?”

You can’t help but laugh along, but inside, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t quite shake. It’s not just the attraction that’s eating at you—it’s something deeper. 

“You know what?” your best friend interrupts your thoughts again, leaning in conspiratorially. “You need to relax. Let Billy be mysterious and brooding. Tonight, we’re here to have fun. No more deep thoughts—just drinks and dancing. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, though your mind is still partly elsewhere. You’re trying to shake off the tension as the waitress brings another round, and your friends dive headfirst into lighthearted banter. But as you glance around the bar, your heart skips when you spot a familiar figure sitting alone in the far corner.

Billy.

He’s at a small table by himself, his broad shoulders hunched over a glass of whiskey, one hand resting lightly on the rim as he stares into the amber liquid. He looks as out of place as you feel—detached from the noise and energy surrounding him, lost in his own thoughts. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, making him appear even more guarded, more unreachable.

“Earth to Y/N,” your best friend sings, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Are you seriously zoning out again?”

You blink, tearing your gaze away from Billy, but not before your friends follow your line of sight.

“Oh my God,” one of them gasps. “Is that Billy?”

Your heart races, and you nod, feeling exposed under their playful stares.

“Looks like fate,” your best friend says with a mischievous grin. “This is your moment, girl. Go talk to him.”

“What? No. No way,” you protest, shaking your head quickly. “I can’t just walk over there.”

“Why not?” she teases, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like he’s going to bite. Besides, you’ve been thinking about him all night, right? Now’s your chance.”

You glance over at Billy again, and your pulse quickens. Part of you wants to approach him, to figure out what it is about him that’s pulling you in, but the other part of you is nervous. What if you’re reading too much into this? What if he shuts you down?

“Come on, Y/N,” another friend chimes in. “We dare you. Break the ice.”

You look at your friends, all of them grinning, eager to see how this plays out. The teasing pushes you, but underneath their laughter is a genuine push for you to step out of your comfort zone, to live a little like your dad suggested.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you down the rest of your drink, take a deep breath, and slide out of the booth. “Alright, I’ll do it,” you mutter, heart pounding as you take the first step toward Billy.

Your friends cheer behind you as you weave through the crowd, each step feeling heavier than the last as you approach his table. And then, you’re standing in front of him. He looks up, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours. For a brief moment, there’s a flicker of something in his gaze—recognition, maybe even curiosity—but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. His expression remains guarded, a wall firmly in place between the two of you. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t dismiss you either. He just watches you, as if silently weighing whether to let you in or push you away.

The tension between you stretches like a rubber band pulled tight, and for a second, you consider turning around, making up some excuse to leave. But then you remember the way he flinched at the auto shop, that vulnerable moment when no one else was watching. Something inside you pushes forward, refusing to be intimidated.

“Hi Billy,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though you can feel the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Mind if I sit?”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flicker over you, then back down to his drink. For a second, you think he’s going to say no, but then he shifts in his seat, gesturing subtly to the empty chair across from him. You take it as a sign and slide into the seat, your heart pounding.

You clear your throat, feeling the weight of his silence pressing in on you. “I’m Y/N,” you say, even though you know he already knows your name. It feels strange, but you say it anyway, hoping it’ll break the ice. “We’ve, uh, kind of met already, I guess. At the shop.”

Billy nods slightly, barely acknowledging the obvious. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “I remember.”

Another stretch of silence settles between you, awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. There’s something about his presence that’s heavy, but it doesn’t repel you—it draws you in. You grip the edge of the table.

“So,” you start, leaning in just a little, trying to sound more casual than you feel, “my friends dared me to come talk to you.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of surprise breaking through his guarded expression. “Dared you?” There’s a slight edge of humor in his voice, though it’s barely noticeable.

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, grateful for any response. “I guess they think you’re a bit of a mystery.”

His gaze sharpens for a split second before he looks away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. The humor fades as quickly as it appeared, and you suddenly feel like you’ve touched on something sensitive. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you add quickly, trying to recover from the awkwardness. “I just thought I’d come over, you know, because… you don’t exactly look like you’re having the time of your life over here.”

Billy’s lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough to give you hope that you haven’t completely blown it. He shifts in his seat again, his eyes flicking back to yours for a brief moment. “Bars aren’t really my thing,” he admits, his voice low, barely above a murmur.

You nod, feeling a little more at ease now that he’s actually engaging. “Yeah, I get that. I’m not much of a drinker either.” You glance around the room, the lively noise of the bar in sharp contrast to the quiet bubble that seems to surround your conversation. “But, hey, sometimes it’s good to just… get out, you know?”

Billy gives a noncommittal shrug, his eyes distant again, as if he’s only half here. You can’t shake the feeling that something is weighing on him, something heavy, and you want to ask more, but you don’t want to push too hard too soon. Instead, you decide to keep things light, hoping it’ll coax him out of whatever shell he’s hiding in.

“So, are you always this mysterious, or do you save that for work?” you tease lightly, offering him a small smile.

For the first time, Billy’s gaze softens just a little, his expression almost amused. “Do you think I’m mysterious?”

“Well,” you say, leaning back in your chair, “you haven’t exactly been the chattiest guy since you started working for my dad. Not that I’m judging or anything—it’s just…” You hesitate, then add, “I guess I’m curious. I mean, you kind of keep to yourself.”

Billy looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out your angle. Then, finally, he lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “There’s not much to tell,” he says, though you can tell by his tone that there’s more beneath the surface.

“I don’t know,” you reply softly, your curiosity growing. “Sometimes the quiet ones have the most interesting stories.”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink, his eyes still distant. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more contemplative. “Maybe,” he says, barely audible above the noise of the bar. “But not all stories are meant to be told.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of what to say. There’s a heaviness to his statement, a sense of pain or regret that he’s not ready to share. You can feel it in the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers tighten around his glass. He’s closed off again, retreating behind his walls.

“Everyone’s got their stuff, right?”

Billy doesn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of something crosses his face—acknowledgment, maybe even understanding. Billy’s eyes remain fixed on his drink for a moment longer, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass, as if he’s contemplating something. Finally, he glances up, locking eyes with you again. There’s a brief pause, and you wonder if maybe he’s going to say something more, maybe open up just a little.

But instead, he shifts in his seat, straightening up slightly. “If this isn’t your type of place, why’d you come out?” he observes, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

You laugh softly, shrugging. “According to everyone, I’m supposed to be having more fun in life.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, looking around at the chaos of the bar before his gaze settles back on you. “And this is your idea of fun?”

“Well,” you smile, glancing back toward your friends, who are huddled together in a corner booth, laughing and sipping their drinks. “My friends mean well. I guess they just want me to let loose, stop overthinking everything.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s watching you closely, trying to read between the lines. 

“What are you overthinking?” he asks quietly, surprising you with the directness of his question.

You blink, taken aback by his unexpected interest. You weren’t expecting him to ask, let alone seem genuinely curious. You glance down at your hands, feeling a little exposed but somehow comfortable enough to answer.

“I don’t know,” you admit, letting out a small sigh. “Everything, I guess. My mom died a few years ago, and it’s been… hard. I haven’t really figured out how to move forward. I’ve been helping my dad at the shop and just… keeping things steady, I guess. It’s like I’m stuck.”

Billy’s gaze sharpens slightly at the mention of your mom, his blue eyes clouding with something darker, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, his expression unreadable.

“I know my dad means well,” you continue, your voice softer now, “but he wants me to get out more, live my life, you know? It’s just… hard. Every time I think about what I should be doing, I feel guilty. Like I’m leaving him and my mom behind.”

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and suddenly, you realize how much you’ve said. You glance at Billy, worried you’ve overshared, but he’s still watching you closely.

For a moment, there’s silence again, but this time, it feels different. More charged, like you’ve opened a door that wasn’t meant to be opened. Billy shifts in his seat, his jaw tightening just slightly, and for a second, you think maybe he’s going to brush it off or change the subject.

But then he surprises you.

“I get it,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something raw in his gaze, something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Losing someone… it messes with you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. It’s the most vulnerable he’s been since you sat down, and it catches you off guard. There’s something in the way he says it—like he knows exactly what that kind of loss feels like.

You study his face, noticing the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker with something deeper, something he’s clearly not willing to talk about just yet. But it’s there, hidden beneath the surface.

“I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” you say softly, breaking the tension with a small, apologetic smile.

Billy shakes his head, his expression softening just a little. “It’s fine. Sometimes… it’s easier to talk to someone who can understand.”

You nod, feeling a strange connection forming between the two of you, even though you’ve barely scratched the surface of who Billy really is. There’s still so much you don’t know, so much he’s clearly keeping hidden, but for the first time, you feel like you’ve glimpsed a piece of the real him. The guy behind the walls.

The noise of the bar seems to fade away for a moment, the world shrinking down to just the two of you at this small table, surrounded by the chaos of laughter and music. You feel the weight of his gaze on you.

Before you can say anything more, Billy’s eyes flick toward the door, and his entire demeanor shifts. His shoulders tense, his jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as if he’s just spotted something—or someone—that makes him uneasy.

You follow his gaze, but all you see is a group of rowdy guys stumbling through the door, shouting and laughing as they head toward the bar. Nothing unusual, just another group of late-night partiers. But Billy seems… on edge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Billy shakes his head, standing up abruptly. “I’ve got to go,” he mutters, his voice tight.

You stand up too, confusion swirling in your chest. “Billy, wait—”

But he’s already moving toward the exit, his steps quick and deliberate. You watch him push through the crowd, disappearing into the night before you can stop him.

You stand there for a moment, frozen in place, trying to make sense of what just happened. The bar feels louder now, the noise crashing back into your senses as the door swings shut behind him. You’re left standing by the table, your heart racing, questions swirling in your mind.

As you glance toward the door again, a knot of unease tightens in your chest. Whatever just spooked Billy—it wasn’t something casual. It was personal. And whatever it was, it’s clear that Billy’s past, the one you’ve been so curious about, isn’t as far behind him as he’d like to pretend.

You feel it now—an undeniable pull toward him. Whatever darkness he’s running from, whatever secret he’s keeping… you can’t shake the feeling that you’re about to be pulled into it too.

Comment to be added to the tag list for this story!

[queers-gambit]

What Goes Around, Comes Around

prompt: ( requested ) Billy's known for his temper and being obsessed with his pretty little girlfriend - which gets her severely injured by his past transgressions.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!cheerleader!reader reader and Billy are both 18+, seniors in high school

word count: 6.7k+

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: you're a liar if you didn't immediately start singing Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around".

warnings: remember there are different responses to trauma! some people shut down, stop talking; others jabber and chatter nervously. reader is the latter. we got angst, we got literal hurt and comfort, established relationship. term "going postal" is used, cursing, technically underage drinking, not edited, author mildly gave up at the end. triggering content: depictions of physical violence, depictions of injury and blood, depiction of abuse, violent plots, Billy's girl gets physically assaulted (but it's minimally detailed).

DO NOT read if this content can potentially trigger you. you are NOT missing anything, you will miss NOTHING by skipping this, but i do try to keep the details as neutral as possible. again, prioritize yourself, mental health, and emotional state - this ain't worth the read if it's gonna upset you, i promise. author loves you all

"That's fucking her, I swear to God."

"You sure?"

"100%. That's Billy's little bitch he's obsessed with."

The three guys smirked at one another, eyeing you across the living room as you giggled and drank with a few friends in adorable, fashion forward outfits. Someone started a game of beer pong, you on the sidelines to cheer, giving them a full-show of your form.

"She's hot," Jake mused. "I can see why he keeps her so close."

"Nah, not tonight," Lawrence frowned, "heard they got in some huge fight at school. Like, she walked home and he sped off in his car."

"Hm, heard he's ridiculously protective of her... She must've really pissed him off," the third boy, Steven, nodded. "So, he's not here tonight?"

"Doubt it," Jake nodded.

"Go find out," Steven advised. "There, the basketball bros - one of them would know. Or a cheerleader," he eyed the crowd. "Chrissy's over there, Brittany's beside her - they'd be the best bet in my mind."

"We seriously considering this?" Lawrence asked with a small, nervous chuckle. "I mean, it's kinda crazy, isn't it? We're gonna send Billy Hargrove a message by roughing up his girl? There's not some better way?"

"I'd love to hear it," Steven scoffed. "Billy's too comfortable at the top of the school, broke my fucking nose and deviated Jake's septum. Didn't he fuck your sister the first week he was here, Lawrence?"

"I mean - "

"Broke her fucking heart, didn't he?" Jake tacked on.

"Well, yeah," Lawrence sighed, shrugging.

"You tell me, dude, was that shit fair?"

"No," Lawrence looked down.

"So, yeah, I know, it's bad to hit a lady - but what about my boot? Huh?" Steven smirked, nodding. "Go find out what you can. Last thing we need is Billy walkin' in the party, right?"

Jake nodded with enthusiasm, leaving Lawrence behind. He hesistated but then did as Steven asked; asking the present basketball team members if Billy gave indication he was coming. The cheerleaders assured he wouldn't dare show up when you were there after a very public fight, and if he did, it would be to cause another scene.

So, after reporting back to Steven, a plan was formed. Lawrence didn't seem fully on board, but in an effort to save his own skin, he went along with what Jake and Steven were plotting - even if that meant roughing up a woman. Something his mama and grandmama vehemently taught him not to do...

Something churned in his stomach when he heard how the two lads were nearly foaming at the mouth to get their revenge. So, he casually went to grab another drink - pausing where a few of your friends were. "Oi," he whispered, earning their attention.

"Hey, Law," Chrissy smiled.

"Hey, Chris," he sniffled, glancing around. "Listen, uh, you seen Billy 'round?"

"No? Why?"

"Hmm, just, uh... Heard his girl was all upset, thought maybe her drinking all that much was a bad idea without him around."

"Oh," Chrissy blinked, looking up at her boyfriend, Jason, as he approached the group with two drinks in hand. "I didn't think about it like that, Law."

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

"No, nothing, Lawrence just pointed out how shitty it is to drink without someone watching your back," she pouted.

He nodded, "You lose your friends, man?"

"No, just tryna look out," Lawrence shrugged. "Few girls here drinking a lot, not a lot of defenses 'round them."

Jason frowned, "That's kinda their man's job, isn't it?"

"What if their man isn't here?"

"I'm gonna be right back," Chrissy smiled, parting ways with her girlfriend in tow - and when Law looked, they were using the kitchen telephone. He prayed they were phoning the Hargrove residence.

Lawrence sighed in slight relief and nodded to Jason; the white boy just nodding back silently and letting the other athlete pass him by to head back for Jake and Steven. He grabbed an unopened beer on his way to maintain appearances.

"Hey, we got it," Jake smirked at the third boy, "she just went outside, we should move now."

"Huh?" Law mumbled.

"C'mon," Steven growled, pushing off the mantle and stalking for the backdoors to follow your retreating form.

"Wait, what're we doing?" Law asked, trying to keep up with the drunken, elongated strides of the two dickheads he called 'friends'. "Hey! Guys, c'mon - what's going on?"

"Just - shut up, pussy boy, let's go, fuckin' keep up," Steven sneered, shoving the glass door out of his way and nearly cracking it.

Outside, the in-ground pool was alight with multicolored lights. There were teenagers littered all around the pool deck; some lounging and some standing, all drinking. There was a kegstand in play, ping pong table hosting another game of Beer Pong, and the thick stench of cigarette smoke in the air.

"She's over there," Jake pointed, their sights turning to see you leaning over to huff on your cigarette while Tammy May Flipsen lit the end of it. Your smile was genuine as you thanked her, just stepping two feet away to gaze up at the stars - a perfect time to strike.

The alcohol in everyone's system made them slow, vulnerable, and downright stupid; leaving Steven and Jake the opportunity to seize either of your arms and literally rush you around the corner of the house without anyone intervening.

Once in the remote side yard, the sickening plan commenced.

Lawrence could barely approach, managing to watch with tears in his eyes as the noises of the party masked the noises of pain you emitted; two nearly full-grown men took out their anger towards your boyfriend on you. You cried, begged for reprieve, sounded so confused and broken that it shattered Lawrence's heart - briefly thinking what if someone did this to his sister...

That made him spring into action. "Hey! No! No, this ain't right! Get off her!" Lawrence barked, shoving the two away from your body on the ground. "That's enough - back off - fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Steven demanded.

"Bitch has it coming!"

"What? You fuckin' her, too? Got you pussy whipped like Billy Boy?"

"Just fuck off, beating on a girl!" Lawrence snapped, but it was a huge mistake. Jake and Steven shared a single look before launching at the third boy, beating him as they had you - but much harder. He swore he earned a concussion, their heels stomping his neck, collarbones, wrists, ribs, ankles; exactly the same as they did to you.

"Tryna defend her now!?" Jake heaved, giving a swift kick to Lawrence's kidney. "Huh? You're so scared of Billy but you're gonna mess with his girl?" He laughed. "She must have a magic cunt or something!"

"You're so fucking pathetic, you have to beat up a girl!?" Law shot right back, earning a swift kick to the jaw from the lad that used to play soccer (or American fútbol). "Huh? Two on one? Such big men, aren't yah?" He sneered again, spitting blood to the side.

"Leave it," Steven halted Jake when he charged again, "they're both pretty fucked."

"Well, that dumbass should learn a lesson 'bout interfering!"

"Law's learned - he has, bro, and if he wants, he can learn again," Steven spat on Lawrence's form, Jake doing the same to you - both eventually stalking away like bored toddlers walking away from broken toys.

Slowly, Lawrence grunted as he pulled himself up to sit against the side of the house. "Fuck's sake," he whispered, wiping his eyes and wincing when he felt the sore skin - trailing a finger up, wincing again when he discovered split skin above his eyebrow. "Ohhhh, fuuuuck," Law drawled when you slowly peaked up from your fetal position on the ground. "Hey, hey, you all right? Stupid question," he hissed in pain when he moved to try and assist you.

You cried out when his grip laid on you, but powered through to let him help you sit against the house, too. "Holy shit," you whispered, blood dribbling from your mouth; teeth feeling loose, a headache already assaulting you, and cuts stinging in the bitter night.

"I'm so sorry."

"N-No, you - it would've been so much worse if you hadn't..." You trailed off, sniffling, "You didn't have t'jump in, you got hurt 'cause of me."

"You got hurt 'cause of Billy," Lawrence frowned.

"Huh?"

"That's why they're so pissed off," Lawrence explained, spitting more blood to the side; his jeans stained with mud, blood, and grass. "Billy got their asses few weeks ago, they're still pissed... I heard them," he deflected smoothly, "talkin' about teaching Billy a lesson through you. Didn't feel right, but I should've stopped them so much sooner. I-I'm sorry I didn't do more, Y/N."

"You did more than anyone else," you whimpered, drawing your knees into your chest to lock your arms around them. "I don't even know them, they go to our school?"

"We're all in AP History with Snyder."

You paused to nod absently, not even bothering to try and recall any interactions you might've had with Steven and Jake. Instead, you eyed your savior, mumbling, "You're Lawrence, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Your sister's... Cara? Sarah? No, no," you paused to think, his frown deepening as you seemed so nice and authentic. "Your sister's name is Natalie, right?"

"Yeah," he half-smiled. "You know her?"

"She's a sweetheart, has those cute glasses? Yeah, I like her; she just joined cheer, right?"

"Yeah, that's her."

You eyed him for a moment, ignoring the blood dripping off you both from the beat down; then whispered with a sniffle, "Is that why you helped? 'Cause your sister's on the cheer squad, too?"

"No," he replied instantly, sounding quiet (like you), "I'd like to believe if I saw something I know is wrong... I'd be the type of person to step in, try to stop it."

"You did tonight."

"I should've done more a lot sooner."

"You could've been really hurt, Law."

"Like you?"

"I'm just - look, two guys? Beatin' on me? Yeah," you scoffed, wiping blood from your split lip, "like I ever stood a chance. But you didn't have t'do all that, they wanted Billy, found me instead. You could've walked away, but instead, you jumped in, and you could've been really hurt. That wouldn't help anyone."

"I'm still sorry..."

You sniffled, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps thundering over the lawn; a voice shouting your name in frantic, panicked little outbursts. Looking up, you caught sight of a black leather jacket and unruly blonde curls, frowning deeper. "Oh, fuck," you whispered, withdrawing into yourself, "oh, no, no, not now. Not now, Goddamnit. Think I can make a run for it to the street before he sees me?" You asked Law quietly, nearly hissing your whisper.

"Ain't that Billy?" Law asked, finger pointed.

"He can't see me," you rushed in a panic, eyes wide and tears welling. "Lawrence, he can't!"

"Why?"

"He'll go on a fucking rampage, Lawrence! Ever heard going postal? Yeah, Bee gives that shit new meaning."

"They'd deserve whatever Billy wants t'do," Law frowned, tensing up when Billy had turned, caught sight of you two, and made an angry beeline for you in the grass. "U-Uh, Billy's approaching," he warned you as your boyfriend arrived, trying to pull back to give privacy, but wincing in pain that made him stop.

"The fuck is going - ? Oh, my fuckin' God," Billy trailed off, then whispered when he saw you huddled on the ground; your dress in tatters. Your head was bowed, knees drawn in, refusing to meet his eyes; making your leather-clad boyfriend lower himself to a knee. "Baby? Hey, look at me, sweet girl, lemme see... C'mon, baby, please, look at me."

You only sniffled.

"It was Jake and Steven," Lawrence told Billy, trying to find his feet; falling over and just giving up.

"Hell happened to you, man?"

Lawrence frowned, looking nervous, but your voice answered, "He saved me, Bee. Jumped in, took some of the beating."

Billy looked between you and Lawrence, but focused on you - seeing the injuries to your face and chest in full light. "Oh, my God," he breathed, looking you over in shock. Those pink, pillowy lips you adored licking and sucking on were parted in shock.

You half-smiled, "Think you pissed a few of the wrong guys off."

"Jesus Christ, sweet girl. What happened? Tell me, please, before I start making assumptions," he demanded, reaching for your cheek - making you recoil hard enough that your head banged on the house supporting your exhausted body. "Hey, hey," he whispered, looking physically wounded by your action, "'s just me, baby, it's just me, it's Bee, I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mon, sweetheart, lemme help you."

You sniffled, letting him reach for you again and caress your cheek so he could direct your head left and right; giving him a full view of your injuries that continued to weep. He stiffened as he took note of a new cut or bruise upon every new sweep of his eyes, his anger skyrocketing with every passing moment.

"It hurts," you whimpered. "Apparently, you beat the shit outta those guys weeks ago - guess they were waiting for an opening to strike back."

"You don't deserve this," he growled angrily. "Fuck - look at you! Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, princess, this is my fault. All my fucking fault, shit," he hissed, looking close to tears, "I put you here, I'm so sorry, baby."

"Got Lawrence his ass beat, too," you pouted.

"Sorry about this, man," Billy instantly offered the other boy, who was practically slumped over in the grass. He still managed to give a thumbs up. "But, uh, thank you for stepping in. You know, not a whole lotta people would."

"Nah, it was the right thing to do," Law frowned, waving him off.

"You said Jake and Steven did this?"

"Mhm," Law nodded. "Jake Chastain and Steven Barton."

"Yeah, I know 'em," Billy shook his head, "and I'll fuckin' kill 'em - "

"Can we get cleaned up first? Before we go murdering high school jocks?" You pouted in pain.

"Hey, man. You got a friend here or something? Someone to help us?" Billy asked Lawrence, still caressing your face with his thumb sweeping the apple of your cheek.

"My sister's 'round, yeah..."

"Want me to grab her?" Billy offered awkwardly.

"I'd actually appreciate it," Law whispered. "Gotta get home, yeah?"

"Yeah, man. Stay here, I'll grab her," Billy agreed. "What's her name?"

"Natalie, she's a cheerleader. Um... Y-You dated her beginning of the year?"

"I remember," he sighed, standing to his feet. He told you earnestly, almost sweetly, "I'll be fast."

But the thing is, you knew Billy all too well by now. "Wait, no," you gasped, trying to stand, "Bee, don't!" It was too late, he was already gone by the time you and Lawrence stumbled out from hiding; just in time to watch Billy point Natalie towards where you and her brother were. Then, he turned and surged up to an unsuspecting Jake and Steven; launching an all-out brawl against the two.

Neither of them stood a chance when Billy was THIS angry. Nobody did. In fact, if Jason, Tommy H., and two other guys hadn't pulled him back, surely, there'd be a lot more than a couple of broken bones. However, when Billy told the other basketball players in a spit-flying rage that these two cowards had attacked his girlfriend (a few turning back to get a look at you), it launched a new, mutual anger. Chrissy and a few other cheerleaders wanted to step in when the "fight" (more like attack) started again, but when they saw you, Lawrence, and Natalie, nobody said a single word. Nobody interfered. Nobody interrupted, and luckily, nobody else joined in...

Before Jake and Steven could lose their lives or sustain serious injury that would result in any arrests, Billy was pulled back by Lawrence - of all people. "Hey, hey," the beaten boy barked, "hey, man, chill - chill! These guys deserve it, yeah, I fucking know, but look, hey!" He grabbed Billy's shoulders to prevent him from turning back for the fray. "Hey! Your girl needs you, man. She needs you more than these bozos. C'mon, you can't go to jail over this shit, right? Right? How mad you gonna be if you get bagged 'cause of these jackasses?"

This seemed to force Billy back to reality and out of his homicidal rage. A few dudes who played football stepped in to hoist the unconscious jocks over their shoulders just to leave them on the curb a couple houses down the street.

Billy raced back to you.

Chrissy and Natalie were helping wipe blood from your skin and hair; clothes damaged, ripped, stained, beyond repair, and another cheerleader was holding a bag of frozen peas to your head as you leaned on her stomach. He slid his jacket from his shoulders, easing you off the girl's belly to leave it around your trembling form and then taking the girl's spot, supporting your body as you were tended to.

Eventually, Chrissy sighed, "I think that's the best we're gonna get you, honey. You want us to come over in the mornings? Help you get dressed and do your make-up?"

"No offense, but I don't think that's necessary... It's not like what happened is a secret," Natalie whispered, looking you over.

"Make-up might irritate the injuries," the other girl offered softly. "But it might cover some of those bruises, I just would avoid the cuts."

"I'm okay, girls, but thank you," you assured softly. "Bee's here t'help."

"Yeah, taking you straight to the hospital," he decided stiffly from behind you.

"What?"

"Think I'm not gonna get you checked out after this? Two men attacked you, I gotta make sure ain't shit's seriously wrong, baby. Don't fight me on this, please."

Billy's mind was warped with memories of sitting in ER's and other clinics with his mother nursing a broken wrist or damaged eye socket. His father's anger had always been a temperamental switch, something Billy felt he always had to outdo. Being in the hospital with you felt too similar, another bolt of rage zinging through his blood; hating the idea that you were the victim, and like his mother, he wasn't able to protect you.

Unlike his mother, this situation was directly his fault. He didn't even remember why he beat the shit outta Steven and Jake all those weeks ago, but whatever the reason, it cost him now. Cost you both.

The party continued inside the house, but Billy walked around the side yard, down to the front, then towards the street full of parked cars with you secure in his arms. After getting you settled safely in the passenger seat of his Camaro, Billy rightened and shut the door; seeing Lawrence and Natalie approaching their own car, the bag of peas now held to his jaw and cheek.

His sister was under his arm, helping him hobble. Billy gulped, realizing Lawrence was beat to hell, too, and if he hadn't jumped in, Lord only knew what state you'd be in now. When the two men caught one another's eye, Billy offered a nod of respect and thanks; the other lad returning it as if to say he was welcome. Billy raced for the driver's door, sliding in, and without turning any music on, drove off towards the hospital.

You were grumpy to be there, but one look at you had the medical staff moving at a quickened pace to help you; offering speedy aid. You were cleaned and cared for; questions regarding the level of assault making you nervous, but you answered honestly that two classmates had jumped you at a party. This meant the police were called; tears in your eyes and down your cheeks when you had to tell Chief Hopper (a close family friend) exactly what happened.

Billy provided their assailant’s full names and promised they wouldn't be in the best shape when (slash if) the two were found.

After hearing your story and writing the names down from Billy, Hopper sighed in empathy, "Kid... Don't admit t'anything."

"I'm not, I'm just making a casual note," Billy countered. "You know, people don't take too kindly to people hittin' a woman. Less so when she's drunk, alone, and they fuckin' stomp on her - "

"All right," Hopper tried to halt his built up anger. "Let's just take a breath here - "

"Uh, Chief?" His deputy interrupted. "Them boys? Uh, a... Jake Chastain and Steven Barton? They were just wheeled in from an ambulance."

"Interesting," Hopper noted, sparing Billy a small look. "From where?"

"A neighbor called them in, said there's a party few houses from her on Hawthorne."

Jim Hopper sighed and turned to you and Billy with his hands on his hips. His face was passively angry. "Sound familiar?" He asked, tongue sweeping over his teeth.

"Yes," you answered for you both, "that's where it happened, Chief."

His eyes softened when he looked back at you. "All right," he nodded, looking to his partner. "Go stand by their room, keep an eye - I'll be there in a second, but the victims made a positive ID. Doc's will treat 'em and we'll book 'em." When left alone, Hopper took a suspicious look around the hospital floor before sliding the curtains shut around your bed; moving to your other side, removing his hat, and kneeling. "Listen, kid," he whispered, taking your hand softly, "I got a daughter at home, too, and if anyone - and I mean, anyone - laid a hand on her the way you were tonight, I'd burn this town to the fucking ground."

Billy snorted in amusement, "Know the feeling."

Hopper nodded, "So believe me when I say, I need to know, off the record, what really happened tonight. Your father will need to know that I am doing everything to help - but I need to know the truth."

"I don't know what to tell you, Hopper," you frowned, matching his quiet tone, "I've told you what I know. I was a few drinks in, stepped outside t'smoke, and that's when they grabbed me, took me t'the side yard, and started wailing on me. I dropped, they kept goin', that's when this other boy stepped in. He got beat up pretty good, too, but he helped get them away. Billy showed up, we came here - "

"I hit them," Billy interrupted, making you squeak lightly. Hopper just laid his other hand over yours so he cocooned it; glancing around the under skirts of the curtains to make sure you remained alone.

Then he asked, "When?"

"After I made sure Y/N was okay," Billy explained, petting a hand over the back of your head; never looking away from Hopper. "I found her friend's sister, made sure someone knew where they were, and then I hit them... And I didn't stop hitting them."

"Kid - "

"Some teammates pulled me off, don't worry - it could've been so much worse. But when the others found out what they did to my girl?" He hissed quietly, "They took matters into their own hands by themselves, sir. My girl was attacked, I couldn't let that just slide, Chief, I hope you understand."

Hopper sighed, "Well, I can't condone the violence, but since it was a group effort, be a helluva lot more paperwork bringing you in versus those two who started it."

Billy nodded absently, your free hand laying over Hopper's to stack. "Did you call my dad?" You asked nervously.

"Not yet," he frowned. "I gotta check on the suspects, but I can after."

"Could you not? For me, please?" You sniffled. "He'll just worry and would get all pissy 'cause his trip has to be cut - "

"He's not home?" Hopper asked in earnest confusion with knitted brows.

Your head shook, "Chicago for the week."

"He left eight days ago," Billy snipped.

"Bee," you reprimanded sharply.

"Hey," Hopper squeezed your hand, "it's okay, you're over 18, I don't have to call him. But El and I are gonna drop by later with dinners and to check on you, her little friend, too, probably. You know, the, uh... The little red head?"

"Max?" You asked.

"Yeah, her. Nice girl."

"She's Billy's step-sister," you snickered, wincing when your broken ribs protested.

"You should rest," Hopper bid, "and thank you for being honest," he stood to his feet while nodding at Billy. "Tell you what, I won't report you starting the fight - technically... It'll be reported as a randomized group effort after they were caught assaulting Y/N."

Billy nodded, too shocked for words as Hopper patted your hand, placed his hat on, and exited the little curtained room. "Wow," your boyfriend breathed. "Since when are you friends with the Chief of Police?"

"He and my dad go way back," you eased.

"All cops like him?"

"Fuck no, you know that." After a beat, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers with him, "Hey," you bid, "I-I'm really sorry."

"Baby, just - don't even start - "

"No, for earlier, for our fight," you interrupted, "and for feeling petty enough to go to the party alone when I know you don't like that... For drinking, not being more aware like you taught me. I didn't use the buddy-system when I went t'smoke, it was a major fuck-up, I know, but I'm just sorry. I feel like I've disappointed you or something - "

"No, hey, sweet girl," he rushed, sitting on the edge of the gurney to stare at you directly, "don't you ever feel that way - you didn't do nothing wrong. Hear me? You didn't put yourself in this position, you didn't deserve what happened, you didn't - no, just," he sighed deeply, "you didn't do any of this, sweetheart. Okay? If anything... If anything, this is my fucking fault and I'm the one who is so sorry."

Your head shook, but Billy continued,

"They did this to you because of me." Tears filled those sweet baby blues. "Because I don't have a hold of my temper - I fucked them up, so, they fucked you up. This is my fault, I'm so sorry. But look, hey, I'll fix this, okay? I swear to God - I'm gonna fix this."

"The cops got 'em, we don't have t'do anything else," you mumbled. "You don't have to do anything else, Billy."

"Maybe not, but I can't let this go - look at you," a single tear dripped. "Fucking look at you, my sweet girl. In the fucking hospital 'cause of me - I can't - this ain't right. I gotta make it right."

You couldn't answer because a technician was arriving to take you for a CT, MRI, and X-Ray - all of those scans that would tell them what was going on internally. Hopper was seen outside the two boy's rooms - Billy following your bed closely as you where wheeled away. Every scan or test he could remain close for, he was; stepping back when needed, but being sucked right back to your side when able.

By the end of the night, you were released into Billy's care because all patients with head injuries had to have some kind of chaperone, and a few floors up, Steven and Jake were being handcuffed to their hospital beds by Hopper.

"Real lucky I wasn't there when you hit her," Jim Hopper seethed quietly, tightening the cuff on Jake to an uncomfortable grip. "Your parents would need money for your funerals - not bail," he offered one single more glare before leaving the next shift of deputies on duty. He sped all the way home and held Eleven in a suffocating hug.

Turns out, you sustained decent injuries from that night.

A (cleanly) broken ankle. Six different broken ribs. Split lip that required two stitches. Stitched earlobes from where piercings were ripped out. Severely bruised collarbones, bordering on broken. One blackened eye. Along with other generic bruises and cuts, more seemingly discovered as the days drug by slowly.

Billy was ready to mow down anyone in his way at any point, but his only ability to get through the school day was that he saw you everyday afterward. He dropped whatever sport and / or club that held his interest, collecting coursework you missed, then driving Max and "Jane" Hopper to your place. He would've lashed out if this was any other situation, but because you asked him to behave and bring you the materials you needed, he did. He played nice.

The two assailants, Steven and Jake, had been arrested by Jim Hopper. They apparently had a rough ride to the station, but that wasn't here or there. What they did to you was far worse that nobody batted a single lash when the two were brought in the station for booking, looking freshly beat up and bloodied. A judge also rejected their bail.

Billy brought you whatever work you missed during your recovery at home, most teachers shocked to see him so diligent in showing up and making the collections. He didn't understand whatever the teachers told him about the work, but you did - and it was fascinating to him, watching you work or study. He usually sat by your window to smoke, but on the occasion, you asked for a toke and wouldn't care about where the smoke blew. So, as weeks passed, he stopped specifically going over to your window; just leaving it open for ventilation so he could remain at your side.

Anything you needed, he got. He did. He gave you. Guilt was one helluva motivator and Billy was chalked-full; so, he did the only thing he knew he could, being acts of service.

You were laid up, it made sense. He could bring you into the shower, get naked himself and help you bathe. He could carry you downstairs, cook for you, help out around the house by keeping it clean because he knew it stressed you out. He would collect the mail, water plants, do dishes, just turned into a househusband that made your stomach and cheeks feel all warm and fuzzy. Never did you think Billy had the ability to be domestic, but here he was, in your great-grandmother's kitchen, wearing a stained apron while trying to bake cookies while you worked on a physics project.

"Hey, Bee?"

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly, setting the hot tray to the stove.

"No, hey, calm down," you smiled with a small laugh. "I was just wondering... You know, like... What's gotten into you?"

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean," you huffed, setting your pencil down. "You literally haven't let me out of your sight except when you're at school."

He shrugged, "You need help."

"You don't ask if I do."

"I don't need to ask when I can just see it."

"Billy."

He sighed and begrudgingly scraped cookies off the hot tray to rest on the cooling sheets. "Your dad asked me to stay close," he offered.

"Bullshit."

"No, really," Billy insisted. "He's in and out with work, so, he asked me to stick around, just in case."

"Okay, fine, but it's more than that. Billy, tell me the truth, baby, please. It's not a bad thing, I'm just curious what's really going on."

"I'm just... I'm just nervous, you know?"

Your head cocked, "Why's that?"

"Look what happened to you," he chuckled ruefully. "All fucked up, can't even go t'school until your ribs are healed - all 'cause of me. 'Cause I fucked up and went too far - "

"William," you snapped, making his wide, shocked eyes meet yours. "I'm not gonna listen to this anymore. Okay? I know you're sorry, you tell me everyday, andI know you're feeling guilty, but this isn't your fault, you're not the one who put hands on me - "

You flinched when he lobbed the cookie tray into the sink, causing a ruckus, his voice yelling over the noise, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"William!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" He yelled, tears swelling when he whipped around to face you. "I-I don't know what else to do! Look, okay, say what you fucking want, but the truth is, those two assholes came at you 'cause of me. Okay? 'Cause I had to be myself and beat the shit outta them 3 months ago, they never forgave - they didn't forget. I put you in this situation, that now? Now, yeah!" He laughed without humor. "Yeah! I'm fucking nervous leaving you alone! Fuck knows what could happen to you, and who's to say there aren't more people out there just waiting for this kinda opportunity! Baby!" He rushed for you at the kitchen table, your mouth sewn shut in shock as he found his knees in front of you and took both your hands in his. "Baby, listen to me. You're the only thing - no, I'm serious!" He insisted when you looked ready to protest this sentiment you've heard before. "You're the only thing I fucking care about, that I want to protect, and they all know it - I don't exactly hide it. I love you so fucking much, they'd do this again - they'd fucking hurt you to get to me and that idea just..." He sighed, looking lost.

You pulled a hand free to instantly caress his cheek, turning his attention upward until his eyes met yours. "Billy," you whispered, "baby, nobody's after us. This was just a freak accident, this was a fluke, okay? You're worried anyone else is gonna come at me, at us, but I know nobody else is that fucking stupid. They wouldn't test you, and Jake and Steven took advantage of an already bad situation. Okay? We had a fight - which was pretty public. So, people knew we were at odds, and when I showed up at that party alone, started drinking, it was their perfect opportunity to strike."

"You can't say that, we don't know if anyone else is gonna test us," he sniffled. "I've made a lot of mistakes... Pissed a lot of people off. One of them might've grown a pair."

"Okay," you relented, "then I guess we're gonna have to stick together, you know... So you can keep me safe, right?"

He chuckled dryly, "I'm trying, princess."

"Well, we can work out a better way - one that doesn't run you into the fucking ground, Billy, Jesus," you searched his face. "Are you sleeping? At all?"

"'Course I am - "

"Don't lie to me."

He sighed, deflating a little, "I sleep... Only when I stay here."

"Billy, you stay only a couple nights a week when Daddy's home."

"I know."

"So, you basically only sleep when Daddy's out of town and you stay here?" You squeaked, watching him nod; pouting and feeling your own guilt brew. "Baby... Look, can we just agree that this isn't either of our faults? Right? Yeah? If I'm not allowed to think this was my fault, you aren't either."

"I was the one they wanted t'hurt," he shook his head. "They did this 'cause of me, sweetheart, how can you be so - so - fuck! So fucking understanding a-and forgiving?"

"Because I love you," you answered like it was common knowledge, even giving a small giggle.

"That doesn't... But that doesn't even - "

"What? Mean anything? Bee, it means everything," you smiled at him. "I love you, so, when you make mistakes, I forgive you - even though there's nothing you've done. I mean," you winced slightly, "sure, maybe we could reduce the kids you bully or beat up, you know, limit the enemies we might make. And this is something that can be redeemed, can't it?"

He stared at you from the floor, slowly deflating, "Can it? I've fucked up so much, doll, I don't think I deserve whatever forgiveness you wanna give me."

"You can't keep beating yourself up," you snipped. "Hey? Hear me? Look, it happened - it fucking sucked, but it happened and it's fucking over. We both need one another to help move on, okay? So, I need you back, Bee, I need my man back because we need to get through this together. You don't get to sulk in your guilt, I don't get to stew in my regret, we need to help each other out of this."

Billy sniffled, "How? How do we move on when you've still got stitches in your lip?"

"They'll dissolve in a few days," you shrugged meekly. "We move on together, okay? Maybe you pick up basketball again, try to distract yourself. Billy, we need some normalcy again, right? You know?"

"Doll, being away from you makes me feel like my lungs are gonna pop," he shook his head. "I'm afraid something might happen if I'm not there, it's fucking scary after finding you in your own blood."

"Then I'll be at every practice," you eased. "You can drive me to and from school, then you know where I am - you'll know I'm safe."

Billy stared at you a moment, fully dropping to the floor as his energy finally drained. He ran a hand through his hair, rustling the curls, admitting in a soft voice, "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not feel so guilty, how to move forward."

"There's no playbook," you agreed. "Guess it means we gotta figure it out ourselves, but again, we do it together. C'mere," you sighed, lowering yourself to the floor with your booted ankle held out.

"No, don't - "

"Fuck off, I'm not totally unable to do shit," you grunted, adjusting yourself and reaching for him. "Come here, please, I wanna hold you! Been cuddling me this whole time, lemme be the big spoon, please."

"Just told me to fuck off, sweetheart, kinda sending some mixed signals, aren't'cha?" He chuckled, turning so his back was to your chest; leaning so you supported him in his slump. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, holding the arm around his collarbones. "I really - if I knew this was gonna happen, I'd never of fought them."

"I know, and I forgive you," you whispered in his ear. "But we can't keep doing this back and forth, okay? I forgive you, Billy, no more apologies."

He sighed, "Yeah... All right..."

"Steven and Jake are arrested, we won't have t'see them again. Hopper will make sure of that," you smirked against the shell of his ear. "And the doctors said I should be good to return to school next week, but I'm out of cheer and everything."

He groaned, "Just something else I've fucked up for you."

"Oh, please, I love the time off," you teased. "Gives me all the time I need to watch my man on the court, huh?" He half-chuckled at your words. "You know I'm ahead in all my classes now, too? Teaching myself at home is far superior than the teacher's bitching at us for eight hours."

"You're gonna love college, baby," he chuckled, the two of you lulling into a comfortable silence. You held him tightly, nuzzled into his neck; both sitting in your emotions, trying to navigate a way out.

"We good?" You whispered.

"We're good," Billy agreed, just as soft. "No more apologies... Try to have less guilt. But you're gonna let me stay close, right?"

"I want you clinging to me so hard, I can't fucking breathe," you smirked. "And if Daddy really asked you to stick around, then you're welcome to stay here longer, even if he's here... Where I can have you close to me," you whispered, licking the skin under his ear. He stiffened.

"No - you better not," he squirmed when you licked again, adding a little teeth in a scrape.

"Billy," you pouted. "It's been weeks!"

"You're still hurt," he argued, turning on the floor to look at you. "I'm not gonna be responsible for breaking another of your ribs 'cause we were horny."

"I'm doing so much better, though!"

"Tell you what," he smirked. "Next business trip of your dad's, I'll fuck you all weekend - wherever you want, however you want."

"He has one in two weeks."

"Mhm, and you have a check up before he leaves."

You eyed him for a moment, "When did you become responsible?"

"I've always been."

"No, this is new. You're remembering dates and my doctor appointments and my dad's work schedule."

"Maybe I just like taking care of you," he whispered against your lips with a growing smirk. After pecking you lips, he quipped, "So, shut up and let me."

"Yes, sir."

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[loserboysandlithium]

Fantasy: Eddie x reader x Billy

Part one, part two, part three, part four

Four part mini series. Minors DNI. Explicit sexual content

I can't just walk up and ask him. Hey! Wanna fuck me and my boyfriend?

How do I do this? Fuck, he's pretty.

"Just an oil change?" Billy mumbles, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just the oil... I think." you say shyly and he meets your eyes for the first time, giving you a little smile.

"Is that your car?" you gesture toward his Camaro. You know it's his. It's the same car he had in school. It still looks just as pretty.

He really smiles then. "Yeah, that's my baby." he grins, glancing over at his pride and joy. The topic opens up the door for conversation, and he begins to talk a little more as he changes your oil. You can’t help but watch him as he works, taking in his white tank top, little grease smears splattered all over it. The fabric clinging to his muscles.

There's something about a man with dirty hands. Working hands. Fuck me.

His sandy curls hang loose around his neck, freckles peppering his tan skin. His jeans hug his muscular thighs, the denim practically painted on. And that ass. Fuck.

He continues making small talk. Asking how life after school has been. It's been a while since you've seen him. Every once in a while you'd run into him in the grocery store or at a gas station but you always avoided him.

"You look good." he drawls and you notice his eyes slowly roaming over your body. He doesn’t try to hide it for a second. A mischievous glint in his pretty blue eyes as his lips curl into a smile.

Shit.. focus.

"So do you. You always do." you blurt out and he chuckles deeply.

Ask him. Say something.

"Good to go." he pats your hood and throws the greasy towel over his shoulder.

"Wait.. Billy. I have something to ask you." you mutter nervously.

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. He's so cocky but it's fucking hot. He already knows I want him.

"You wanna take me on a date, pretty girl?" he winks at you and you can’t stop yourself from blushing.

"Not exactly. I have a boyfriend." you say quickly.

"Okay... so we have to be like.. sneaky?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no. Not exactly."

Billy steps closer to you and you look up into his blue eyes. His stare makes you even more nervous. He’s so close. You can smell his cologne mixed with Marlboro’s, a little musky scent from his sweat.

"You have my attention." he winks, looming over you.

Here we go.

*******

Billy stands there awkwardly as he lights a cigarette. "I've uh.. never done something like this before." he mumbles, shuffling his feet as he inhales deeply, smoke filling his lungs. You look over at Eddie who is simply smirking at Billy’s discomfort, arms folded casually across his chest.

"So you're just gonna like.. watch?" Billy asks as he exhales the smoke slowly through his nostrils.

Billy had wasted no time saying he would happily "fuck your brains out". But he wasn't keen on the idea of a threesome.

"Until you ask me to join." Eddie states calmly.

"I won't." Billy answers sternly.

"Okay, alright.” Eddie laughs lightly, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Then yeah.. I'll just watch."

"You guys are fucking kinky." Billy chuckles as he turns his attention back to you.

"You ready, doll?" He gives you a look that makes you throb.

"Yes." you whisper as you pull the string of your robe. You let it fall from your frame leaving you in your favorite lingerie.

You watch as both of them look you up and down. "You look good, baby." Eddie rasps.

Billy nods in agreement, keeping his eyes on you as he places his cigarette in the ashtray and makes his way closer.

His hand reaches out, fingertips trailing lightly down your arm before his heavy hand lands on your hip. Your breath quickens as he leans in.

"Billy?" you breathe as his lips get closer.

"Yes?"

"I want it rough." you whisper and he smirks as he reaches down and picks you up easily, tossing you roughly to the bed. Oh shit.

You watch as he takes off his shirt, his chiseled body now on display. As he slips out of his jeans, Eddie comes to kiss you. You hold him close, fingers threading in his curls as his tongue slips in your mouth just for a moment.

His lips move to whisper in your ear. "Mmm, I’m so ready to fuck you myself, baby. But I can’t wait to watch him split you open.”

You moan softly at his words and he kisses you one more time before hopping off the bed.

"She's all yours." he announces to Billy and then suddenly he's on top of you. His weight feels different. Heavier. His body is radiating heat as his arms rest on either side of your head. His blue eyes are piercing. He’s so fucking close.

"Hi." you breathe out staring up at him. His chain dangles in the space between you.

"Hi." he returns with a charming smile. He glances over at Eddie and you quickly grip his chin, bringing his face back to you. You grip the chain pulling him down and finally his lips are on yours.

Your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him close. His kiss is firm but gentle.

You slip your tongue in his mouth and moan at the taste of him. Your tongues swirl together wildly, both of you panting into the kiss. Your hips lift up, pressing against his groin, craving any friction at all on your already aching clit. I can feel him. He's big, like Eddie. I knew he would be.

He hums into the kiss as he feels you grinding against his cock, his hand begins to wander your body. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, pulling a needy moan from you.

You keep your hand around his neck as you continue exploring his mouth with your tongue. You don't want his lips to leave yours. He tastes so good. His lips are soft and smooth, his tongue dancing with yours making your stomach flutter. You weave your fingers through his sandy curls as he slips his hand under your lace bra to tease your nipple between his rough fingers.

His lips separate from yours leaving you panting as he moves to suck on your neck. He’s not being easy, his suction sure to leave behind a deep bruise, a nice memory for when he’s gone. His hand travels lower, slowly trailing across your stomach until he finally meets your warmth. A sound almost like a growl escapes Billy’s chest as he realizes you’re wearing crotchless panties.

"You're so fucking wet." he groans into your neck making you smile.

"Touch me, Billy. Please." you whine and he brings his face back to yours as he runs a single finger up and down your slit. Teasing you in the most delicious way.

"You want my fingers, baby? My mouth? Tell me." he burns as he slips a finger inside of you.

"Mmm.. yes. Both.. fuck." you moan as you keep your eyes on his.

He grins wickedly as he begins kissing down your body. His lips are soft and warm as he plants kisses across your breast and stomach.

He removes his finger and spreads your legs wide. You look down and watch carefully as his tongue dips inside of you.

"Ohh.. fuck." you whimper as he licks up your dripping slit.

You've wanted to see this for so long. Billy Hargrove buried between your thighs. Fuck, it's just like you imagined.

Your hips buck up and he presses them back down forcefully, holding you in place as he begins to devour you.

Eddie's POV

Holy shit. I slowly stroke my cock as I watch Billy Hargrove going down on my girl. I never thought I’d see this day come. She's so fucking hot. Her eyes trained on him. Her mouth parted beautifully.

Her cries and whimpers are enough to make me cum already but I want to wait.

I want to cum with her. Need to cum with her.

I watch as she grips his hair tightly, pressing him deeper into her pussy. I can hear the sounds of his tongue lapping. His lips sucking wildly. His low moans being swallowed by her perfect cunt.

I understand. She tastes so fucking sweet.

I spit on my hand and lean back as I continue the slow motion up and down. I’m so fucking hard. Precum leaking from my tip. My cock is aching. Begging for the sweet release. It’s the best kind of torture. She squeals loudly as Billy enters two thick fingers.

You're killing me, sweetheart.

I can tell by her sounds that she's close. Her legs are propped up on Billy's shoulders. I keep my eyes on her as they begin to tremble around his head.

There you go, baby. Cum for him.

It’s almost as if she can hear my thoughts, the tightness in her stomach breaking as she cries out his name, her body jerking wildly. I pick up speed, my hand moving quickly up and down my cock, the slick sounds of me fucking my own hand only add to the obscene noises coming from the two of them. I hear a guttural moan come from Billy’s chest as my pretty girl cums on his face and hand.

I want to taste her. Fuck.. I'll get my turn.

I slow down my hand trying to hold out on busting already. Not yet.

He's about to fuck her. And I can only imagine it's gonna be rough.

Reader’s POV

"Oh my god." you pant as Billy comes up from between your legs. The evidence of your orgasm clear all over his face.

"You're fucking sweet, you know that?" he rasps before kissing you passionately. You taste yourself all over his tongue as he moans into your mouth.

He reaches down, taking his thick cock in his fist, running his tip up and down your pussy before slapping it on your clit again and again. He gives you no time to recover from your first orgasm, lining himself up.

You gasp as you feel the delicious stretch. He takes his time, slowly gliding himself inside. Your legs beginning to tremble immediately.

"You're.. fuck you're big." you whimper. He was almost the same size as Eddie. Just a bit thicker with a little more length. Your mind started swirling with thoughts of both of them inside of you. He'll just need a little convincing.

You look over at Eddie who is watching you with lustful eyes. His hand slides up and down his cock as he gives his lip a small bite. He shoots you a little wink causing your pussy clenches around Billy’s dick. Fuck, he's so hot.

You feel his cock bottom out, he’s so fucking deep you can feel him in your stomach. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back into you bringing your attention back to him.

"Holy fuck!" you squeal and he just smirks down at you, loving the reaction you’re giving him.

"You said rough." he teases with a slick grin.

You nod, your eyes filling with tears as he begins to thrust in and out. Slowly picking up his pace. He rolls his hips into you, pressing down on your stomach, the sensation sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"You feel so fucking good..." he moans as you lift your hips meeting his thrusts.

You reach down taking the sheets in between your fingers, gripping tightly as his long cock fills you again and again. Each thrust seems to somehow reach even deeper.

His hands move to grip the headboard above as he continues pumping in and out agonizingly slow. You look down seeing his cock slick with your cum.

“How’s that feel, baby?”

“So good, Billy.” you sigh blissfully, feeling cock drunk already and he’s barely even fucked you.

"You like my cock stretchin’ you out?" he groans deeply, rotating his hips, stretching your pussy even more.

“Mmm.. faster, Billy. Please.”

“Poor thing.” Billy tuts. “Want me to stop teasin’?”

“P-please.” you beg again, your voice nothing but a whisper.

"Fuck Billy!" You gasp as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly, giving you everything you wanted. You reach up, running your hands down his abs before gripping his waist tightly.

You dig your nails into him as he completely destroys you. The headboard slams against the wall again and again as he pounds your soaked pussy.

"You're so fucking hot.." he praises, kneeling on the bed. He swiftly tosses your leg over his shoulder. His strong hand comes to grip your throat as he leans down.

"Make me cum, Billy." you plead, nothing but a desperate mess for him.

"I'm gonna make you cum. You're gonna cum all over my cock, baby." he burns as his grip around your throat tightens even more.

Billy meets your eyes and runs his tongue across his teeth, a smile playing on his pretty lips.

"Ready?" he teases.

"Yes.." you whimper.

"You sure?" he grins as he slowly pulls out.

"Billy. Fuck. Me." you sass, your bitchy tone making him almost cum right there.

Then the breath is knocked from your lungs as he slams into you. This time he doesn't hold back at all. His grip is tight around your throat as he fucks you with everything in him.

Your head falls back and your mouth drops open silently as your eyes fall shut. Your breasts bouncing with every wild thrust.

You turn your head to the side as your eyelids flutter to watch as Eddie pumps his hand quickly up and down his cock.

He's gonna cum. I can see it on his face.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" Billy grunts as he drives into you, your pussy leaking around his cock, the creamy mess from your last orgasm coating every inch of his cock.

You nod quickly, feeling your leg shake against his shoulder. His fat tip kissing your sweet spot every time he enters you. You feel your body aching for the sweet release.

"Harder.." you barely manage to get the word out.

"Fuck.." Billy breathes as he quickly pulls out, flipping you over effortlessly. He slams your face into the mattress and enters you from behind.

You feel the sting of his firm hand against your ass and you cry out in pleasure. Your eyes zero in on Eddie as your mouth falls open again, little hums escaping your lips as Billy destroys you from behind.

His hand smacks your ass again and you feel your climax coming fast. You struggle to focus your sight on Eddie. Your eyes fighting to stay open. You force them open just long enough to see Eddie mouth one word in your direction.

'Cum.'

Your body reacts to his demand, your cum flooding Billy's cock. He moans deeply as he feels your pussy clenching around him. He keeps thrusting as you ride out your high. His hands massaging and groping your ass. He's breathing heavily as he pulls out of you, making you feel empty. You peek at Eddie, seeing his hand covered in his own sticky cum.

"Holy shit." you breathe, sitting up and turning to Billy, seeing his cock still rock hard. You take him in your mouth and begin sucking. His head falls back as you suck him clean of your juices.

"I want both of you." you purr, looking up at him.

He watches you carefully as you take him back in your mouth, swirling your tongue slowly around his tip.

"I... fuck.." he moans.

"She's really good at getting what she wants isn't she?" Billy chuckles looking over at Eddie.

"You're telling me." Eddie smirks.

You take him deep in your throat and look up at him through your eyelashes, fluttering them perfectly.

"Shit.. yeah.. yeah okay." Billy grunts. "Both of us."

Fuck yes.

Part three coming soon 🖤

Tag list: @gri959 @flory-alexandra @livinnadaydream @anakinsbbgirl @watermeezer @theyellowhaunt @nailbatanddungeon @mugloversonly @bunnyhargrove @ali-r3n @eddiestans-blog @alesiaaa @floredaqueen @josephquinnsfreckles @stargrrrlsworld @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @neville-is-my-husband @nope-thanks @bangchansleftbuttcheekk @daydream-believer19

Divider by @strangergraphics 🖤

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss him with chocolate lips

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @biillys

word count: 1,837

warnings: swearing, some sexual references/themes, allusions to sexy adult things, play-fighting, reader and billy being in love and that love language is being little shits to each other (also acts of service), smooching and one use of the word saliva

synopsis: you decide to bake cookies, and billy decides he must be included, but you’d never let your cookies perish in return for an insatiable man.

a/n: hii!! i came up with a few lines of dialogue for billy a little bit ago, and then they just sat in my notes app because i couldn’t think of what to do with them. halfway through writing this, something i wanted to be sweet and silly, i felt lost and didn’t know how to end it or where to go with it, and started looking for inspiration. but then it came to me! and i’m very happy with how this turned out. i hope you like it! happy reading <33

————

Your hands are buried wrist deep in cookie dough, because you got sick of the shitty spatula not doing its job. 

You keep folding it in and over itself, trying to get all the chocolate chips and dry ingredients properly combined. You feel like the cookies just don’t turn out right if you don’t get in there and make sure it’s the way it’s meant to be. 

You reach over and grab a handful of mini chips to toss in your mouth. You have this mixture of regular size ones, minis, and chunks that you swear by. 

“You missed the bowl.”

A pair of large, warm hands slide over your waist, pinkies grazing over that spot where your pelvis dips because they know that’s your ticklish spot and just want to see you squirm. 

“Fuck off, prick.”

Billy smiles into the soft and slightly sweaty skin of your neck, peppering kisses in a trail from your collarbone to your earlobe. You nudge him with your shoulder, trying to ward him off. 

He licks a stripe up the back of your neck. And if you weren’t making an effort to look annoyed by his presence, your eyes might’ve just rolled back into your head. 

Instead you let out a sort of strangled howl to emphasize your agony. You are busy, after all. Making cookies you know he’ll eat before you can have any for yourself. You’ll have to hide some this time. 

You elbow Billy in the stomach, but his hands never leave your hips. He’s chuckling lightly, enjoying every minute of teasing you and being the biggest nuisance he can be.

“I should castrate you,” you say, rubbing your nose with your forearm to avoid spreading cookie dough all over your face. 

Billy laughs into your neck, the tip of his nose cold against your warm skin. ��Oh, but you like that part of me too much, baby.”

You scoff. “Dick.”

He places a finger on your chin so that you’ll meet his gaze. “Exactly.” 

“I hate you,” you say, your eyes boring into his and saying anything but. They’re practically twinkling just looking at him. 

He hooks another finger under your chin and coaxes you closer, “I know,” he smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that tastes like chocolate chips. 

The flavor being on his mouth makes you pull away in shock. You put your hands on your hips and feign being absolutely appalled and ashamed.

“You come in here, on my ass, when yours has been fillin’ up on chocolate for how long?” You raise up on your tippy toes, trying your best to get in his face. He bends slightly to make it easier for you. 

His gaze drags over each of your pretty features in that way he knows gives you goosebumps. “You think you just get to eat ‘em all or something?”

You press your hand to his chest. “I bought the damn things, Hargrove. And I think, as the woman making the cookies, I’m entitled to eat as many chocolate chips as I want.” 

Billy leans in again and kisses you, but this time it’s slow, too slow, and sensual. The kind that feels like it lasts forever but in reality was a few seconds. One that really should last forever. It makes your brain go all fuzzy.

He drags his hand up your spine and pulls back. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Your stomach flips, your blood rushing to all the important parts of your body because he knows just what buttons to push and you despise him for it. Cocky little shit. 

“Now look who can use his manners,” you say, your voice taking on a sing-songy lilt. Billy grins at you, biting his lip, and then returns to his place behind you. 

You both settle down, quieting and melting into each other's presence. Billy watches over your shoulder as you pour in more chocolate chips. He knows you always hate it when people cheat you out of your chocolate. 

“I need a tray, B, can you get one for me?”

He pats your ass and moves to the designated cabinet without answering. He rips out a sheet of parchment paper without you having to ask. You always say that the bottoms don’t burn as easily that way, or you quote something from a cooking show you watched on tv that morning. 

He brings the cookie sheet back to you and then pushes up so he’s sitting on the counter next to you, bare thighs pressing into the cold stone. 

You pass him the rest of the chocolate chips to snack on and bend to kiss his knee. He blushes. You’ve been together for a few years now, but each time you give him affection in small, uncommon ways, it makes him feel like teenage boy. 

Billy watches you separate the dough into even-ish chunks before sliding it all into the oven. He tilts his head back and tosses the rest of the chocolate chips into his mouth before hopping down from the counter. 

He grabs your hips when he sees you move toward the sink. “Uh, uh. Go sit, mama. I’ll take care of it.” He knows you’re going to push back, and before you can he picks you up and places you in the living room. 

You let out a small huff and walk right back to your starting point. There aren’t even that many dishes to wash anyway, but what’s the fun in cooperating with him?

“Billy.”

“Hm?” He’s squeezing soap all over the dishes you’d already pre-rinsed. 

“Go sit your pretty ass down and let me do this.” You hear him laugh over the sound of the tap running and roll your eyes. He feels it. And he ignores you, squeezing out a sponge. 

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull, trying to lift him up the way he had with you just moments before. You manage to heave him up just enough that his toes leave the tile and he cackles at your effort to be such an adorable irritant.

He looks at you over his shoulder, your brow creased in concentration, the tip of your tongue sticking out just slightly. “How’s that workin’ out for ya, princess?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so big and heavy and strong.”

His ego practically skyrockets, his brain picking out any bit of flattery you’ll offer him. 

“Big and strong, huh?”

You cross your arms and spin around, hiding your wide smile before he can catch a glimpse at it. At how pleased you are to have riled him up. You let out a little petulant “Hmph!” and start to pad away. You know what’s coming though, and you try to pick up speed before you can be captured. 

Billy’s arms are around your thighs in seconds. He’s managed to turn you around and lift you up, throwing you over your shoulder like it’s nothing, like this is a normal daily task. “I’ll show you big and strong, pretty baby.”

You beat playfully on his lower back, fighting off a fit of giggles. “Billy! Put me down motherfucker!” He’s laughing too, all too pleased with himself for being able to get you like this. 

He pulls you down so you’re hanging onto his front and starts maneuvering you onto the couch. Your every nerve ending lights up when you feel Billy’s hand at the crown of your head, cradling you as he sets you down. 

The gentle manner in which he handles you does not correlate to the way he kisses you. 

Billy settles between your legs, grabbing your arms and coaxing them around his neck. He’s giving you a job, giving you instructions, and it makes your brain go quiet. Honing in on him, and nothing else. He’s all you can see, all you can smell, all you’re capable of thinking about. 

One of his hands slips beneath your t-shirt and settles against the dip of your spine, allowing him to pull you upward, allowing him to mold your body to his without you even having to put in the effort to arch your back and meet him. 

The other slips into the hair at the base of your neck, fingernails scratching over your scalp to get the goosebumps going, the heel of his hand rubbing determinedly at your skin, massaging it and reveling in the heat radiating off of you. 

Each time you try to say something, Billy kisses you harder, laughing into your mouth. He’s getting sloppy, losing himself in the taste of chocolate and lip balm and you. 

He sucks on your bottom lip, nips at it with his teeth, and it makes you let out a small, quiet moan. Billy slaps your thigh and you pull his hair. He groans, loud and unashamed. He shoves his knee in between your legs, meets the hottest, softest part of you and—

The timer on the microwave goes off.

Your cookies are finished. 

You pull back from Billy’s warm mouth, because you can’t let your cookies burn. What kind of monster would you be, letting cookies perish for a man? Absolutely not. 

His lips are still in a pout and there’s a string of saliva connecting the both of you. 

Instead of laughing like you want, you groan, “Oh dear Christ, ew, Billy.”

While he’s processing that you just said “ew” to him, you slide out from underneath his arms and race to pull the finished cookies from the oven. 

You’re carefully picking each cookie up and setting them on a cooling rack so they’ll become edible—without burning the skin off the roof of your mouth—sooner rather than later. 

Billy finally appears in the kitchen and puts a hand against the counter. His brow creases like he’s just been told something very serious, though his mussed hair and flushed cheeks say otherwise. 

“Did you just say ew to me, baby?” An evil smirk starts to appear on his face and he closes in on you. “You definitely don’t think it’s gross when I spit on your—” 

You shove a warm cookie into his mouth before he can finish that sentence. His face takes on a comical expression of his surprise, but he happily chews on the melting chocolate chips you’ve provided him with. He does like the warm cookies the best. 

You reach for a towel to clean off his face, but he moves too fast. 

Billy is kissing you all over, your neck, your collarbones, your cheeks and forehead. He’s doing his damndest to get chocolate all over you as payback for your teasing little attitude. 

“Billy!” you squeal, giggling and shrieking with joy. 

“Take it back! Take back that fucking ew, princess, and you can go!” He’s cackling, tickling your sides. 

“Okay, okay! I love your nasty ass, I do! Let me go!”

He removes his fingers from your hips and starts to wipe off your face with a wet cloth while you both catch your breath. 

“Damn right you do.”

————

tagging: @clovermunson (i got you bestie)

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[writethrough]

I Know Better

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You've heard every rumor about Billy Hargrove—from the girls, the guys, the teachers, the parents—it never interested you all that much. Until one of those pesky rumors involved you.

Warnings: Language, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1396

A/N: This is the first stop on the apology tour for everyone who's sent me in a request. It's been a year for some of you, and I'm so sorry and grateful for your patience.

I had a really hard time starting this in the sense that I had so many ideas, but none of them fit with this prompt. So, it took me a while to settle on the story I wanted to tell. I had to stop thinking about this as a “Billy is mean to everyone” fic, and start considering it a “You are Billy’s soft spot” fic. It had to be a “How is he different because of you?” And then it sort of clicked.  

This is a sort of soft-launch to a larger something. I'm not sure if it will turn into a full multi-part fic or just spontaneous additions in this little fanfic universe.

And to the anon who requested this, Tumblr ate your request when I tried saving it to my drafts, so I really, really hope you come across it.

I hope you enjoy!

Anon Request: “Another Billy request idea is “he’s mean as fuck to everyone but me

"Like??? Maybe I need to go to therapy but the hard as stone exterior on that boy and the thought of him being sweet as pie to his girl makes me mush” 

Moodboard by @saradika

Billy Hargrove never scared you. 

Not even in high school when all you heard about was his bark and bite and overall terrible attitude. 

You didn’t cross paths often, surprisingly so with how small Hawkins was, but sometimes you’d get glimpses of him against his locker or waiting by his car. 

You still remembered the time he pulled in beside you as you were shutting your door. 

Max had waved at you before rushing off to the middle school. Then, Billy had slowly risen, lighting a cigarette in the process, and locked eyes with you. 

He greeted you by name, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, and sauntered away. 

You had replayed that morning for the next two weeks, stunned that he knew your name let alone gave you the time of day. 

It was a month or two afterward when you actually witnessed Billy at his worst. 

You weren’t there for the start, but you had turned a corner in the halls and were met with other students gawking at a fight. 

You shoved your way between teenagers, intent to get to your class before the bell rang when that mullet stopped you. 

Billy had been looming over Roger, the school’s very own sleazy douchebag. 

In your mind, whatever that prick had said or done, he absolutely deserved the consequences Billy was doling out. 

You were about to continue walking when Billy leaned in closer to him with a tilt of his head. And until that point, you didn’t know that gesture could be so menacing. 

“Wanna say that again?” 

Your brows pulled in confusion. 

What could Roger have said that made Billy so furious? 

It must have been some insult, something that cut right to whatever insecurities Billy hid from the world. You really couldn’t imagine what he’d be self-conscious about. To you, Billy was the epitome of confidence. 

Billy’s eyes caught your shoes, and you swore his shoulders tensed. He trailed up your body and met your gaze, grinding his teeth. 

He slowly straightened, and without another word, stormed out of the building. 

Mrs. Click finally arrived and disbanded everyone and helped Roger to the nurse’s office. 

Your last class was full of whispered theories and passing notes. 

I heard he keyed Billy’s car. 

No, Billy definitely slept with the chick Roger was eyeing up. 

Could’ve sworn I heard Roger call some girl a slut-in-the-making. 

The day couldn’t have been over soon enough. 

At least it was the weekend, and in a month, you’d be graduating. 

You were walking to your car, sun in your eyes, and didn’t see Billy leaning against it until you were too close to pretend you forgot something to head back inside. 

“Hey,” he said, putting out his cigarette. 

“Hi,” you said slowly, gripping your backpack strap. 

“You okay?” His hands slipped in his pockets. 

Your furrowed your brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

He pushed off your car and took a few steps toward you. 

It was really the first chance you had to take in how blue his eyes were. And while normally you’d look away as you held each other's gaze, something planted you where you stood. 

He had the barest of smirks, so slight that you’d dare call it a smile. 

“If I said I wasn’t alright, would you agree to hang out tomorrow?” he asked. 

You let out a surprised laugh and glanced down. This was the first conversation you’d ever had with Billy, and he was asking you out. 

This was probably how he operated. He’d set his sights on some girl, give them that eat-you-alive smirk, and you’d wake up alone Sunday morning without even a note saying “bye.” 

But even with all that, your curiosity won out. So you made a deal. 

“Tell me what that was all about, and I’ll be there.” 

There was a flash of anger, but you didn’t think it was toward you. Leftover feelings for whatever happened no doubt. Then, he softened in a way you had never seen before. 

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, beginning to walk away. He turned around before he could get too far. “Don’t bring a jacket.” 

“Why?” You couldn’t help your smile. 

“You’ll have mine.” 

The cocky grin would’ve been irritating with anyone else, but Billy’s was endearing. 

You drove home with a stupid smile plastered on your face, and you stayed that way until Billy rapped on your door. 

— 

That Saturday night, he tried to breeze past his altercation. Until you leveled him with a sincere look and said his name. 

He had leaned back in the booth, ripping his remaining fries in pieces to distract himself. 

“He pissed me off,” Billy said, still maintaining his gruffness. 

“I figured as much,” you said gently. You knew if he sensed anything else, you wouldn’t get any answers. 

He huffed, glancing at you before returning to his basket of food. 

“The prick said somethin’ he shouldn’t have.” He shrugged. “I told him as much.” 

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes in thought. Billy wasn’t know to beat around the bush. He said what he thought, and you kind of admired that about him. Even if that got him in trouble. But the way he wasn’t maintaining eye contact when that was his favorite way to throw someone off guard was suspicious. He was hiding something, of course, but it felt more than hiding something from you alone. 

You took a shot in the dark. 

“Are you…Are you not telling me what he said because it was about me?” 

His jaw clenched and hands stopped. 

So, that was it. Roger had said something nasty about you, and for whatever reason, Billy took it upon himself to…defend your honor? 

But why? 

And what could it have been to make Billy react like that? You hardly knew each other. 

You inhaled deeply. “Okay. Tell me what he said.” 

“You don’t need to hear his bullshit.” He met your gaze, steady and stern. You wanted to slap your chest to keep your heart from skipping. 

“Billy,” you started, “I promise whatever he said isn’t going to affect me. I just want to know why you had him on the ground.” 

At this point, you had dissociated from high school and the people in it. All that mattered was graduation. 

“What does it matter?” His tone came out more harsh than you anticipated, but the way his face pinched told you he didn’t mean for it to happen. 

You leaned on the table. “Because I’ve had a really nice time so far. And as much as I appreciate you standing up for me. If you wanna continue this,” you gestured between you both, “you can’t beat the shit outta people.” 

“You wanna go out again?” His eyebrows rose slightly, and your cheeks warmed. 

Of course, that was what he took away. 

“Billy,” you warned playfully. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “He caught me starin’ at you a few times. Said your legs were locked shut, but I could probably get them open.” 

You scrunched up your nose. You knew Roger had to have said something vulgar, but you were more surprised it was about you then the actual content. 

“Okay. Was that all?” Sure, it was gross, but that didn’t seem like something Billy would lose his shit over. 

“That happened last week,” he admitted. “Told him to shut the hell up, and I thought that was that.” He shifted in his seat. “Guess he saw you lookin’ at me and he started callin’ you names. And then I hit’im.” 

Names.  

You could hazard a guess what names he called you. Probably the same ones he called every other female who didn’t wanna sleep with him. Ones that would describe him more than you. 

You reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “And I need you to know, I don’t give a single fuck what that dipshit thinks.” 

He chuckled, putting his hand on top of yours. 

“So, that mean a second date is in the books?” he asked. 

“Like I said, only if you don’t punch someone when they say something you don’t like,” you said, hoping your face conveyed how serious you were. 

He leaned his elbows on the table. 

“I was thinkin’ a movie for next time.” 

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @nix-rose, @ballerina-orchid, @realmermaidariel

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[annwrites]

billy hargrove being in love with you would include:

at first, he'd be unbelievably irritated over it.

and he most certainly would not initially admit that what he feels is love.

no, it's just a stupid fucking crush.

you just happen to get his dick hard—that's it.

but why, then, can't he get you out of his fucking head—off his mind?

like, why does he want to hold your hand, & cuddle you, & say sweet shit to you?

admitting it is not something he would ever do up-front.

instead, he'd, quite honestly, prob be a bit mean to you over it. somehow feeling like it's your damn fault.

but, when he sees how his words hurt you, he fills with guilt & does what he can do undo it/dial it back.

so, he offers to start giving you rides to & from school.

maybe even makes invitations to hang out—just not at his house. he doesn't want his dad ruining whatever the fuck he has, or, at the very least, wants to have with you.

so, you guys go to the starcourt mall, or the movies, or hawkins video to rent something to take back to your place to watch, or to the hawkins arcade, etc.

he just needs an excuse to spend extra time with you that isn't strictly in a classroom.

and he buys you things: pays for your movie ticket & snacks, pays for the movie you rent for the night, buys you gifts from the mall, etc.

and by insisting it's not a big deal—kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy—he makes it one by stressing how much it really doesn't matter. it's just a few bucks.

in time, he offers to teach you how to drive his car.

just likes that he'll get credit for being the one to teach you how to drive in-general.

the more time you spend together, the more intimate he gets.

he's been flirtatious & handsy the whole time, but being "sweet on you" is different.

it includes soft, nervous touches on his part with shaking, uncertain hands, waiting for you to mock him for it.

when you don't, he starts paying you nice compliments, like how he likes what you're wearing, or that your hair is really cute today.

starts holding your hand in public & around school, too.

speaking of intimate, he's usually rough when it comes to sex, to keep up that masculine façade, until he shyly asks you if you want to try "y'know, makin' love, or whatever the fuck".

and everything is slow and sweet and gentle & he lies in your arms afterward with his head resting between your breasts and he just feels so safe & loved & wanted & cared for.

is 100% the jealous type, so don't even think about hanging out with other guys. he needs that security in knowing you won't abandon him, too.

he, in time, tells you—begrudgingly—about his childhood & his mom. he tries to brush it off, but really wants you to give a shit. and when you do—hold him & tell him how sorry you are—he knows that's he's fallen entirely.

it scares the shit out of him, though. because he's not like other guys: hearts & chocolates (he's capable of being a sweetheart, but because he hates himself so much, he can't see it). he's terrified of becoming his dad. what if he's not the best thing for you? what if he hurts you? the list is endless.

but when he thinks of being alone again? of losing you? he can't let that happen.

so, he says it. those three words. and he feels like he might vomit when he does.

and then you say it back and he cries.

once the two of you graduate, he works his ass off to get you a nice home or apartment.

he wants to leave hawkins as whole & take the two of you out west.

and you get there.

and he returns to surfing & teaches you as well.

he loves sharing it with you.

and once the two of you are comfortable & settled, he pops the question.

he's a trembling, breathless mess while doing it, but he gets through it.

and once you've had some time to enjoy married life, it inevitably happens (he gets you knocked up)!

he promptly freaks out.

then spends all his free time working on a nursery.

snaps at you when you try and help put anything together.

"you need to be in bed with your feet up, or something. just let me take care of it, alright?"

he just wants you to be pampered, in truth.

but once your little one has entered the world?

dad mode all the way.

he's always holding it, helping change diapers (even if he bitches about them sometimes), changing its clothes, playing with it (loves this part—always a huge smile on his face, especially when the baby is smiling, too).

he becomes everything his dad never was: a good man. and he has the love of a good woman that he knows is his forever.

until death do you part.

[buckysgrace]

You’re Billy’s girl and you’re back in his room after school and you’re kissing, he slides his hands under your skirt and feels you’re not wearing panties. He gets all mad outwardly, calling you a little slut and slapping your ass (what kind of girl goes to school with no panties on, huh), but really he’s getting so hard and flustered he can barely control himself. You’re totally his dream girl but he would never admit that to you.

This was yummy thank you very much hehehe, I hope you enjoy this!

Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

Warnings: Some spanking and degredation, unprotected sex

You were sprawled out on his bed, your face warm and electricity pulsing through your veins as Billy dragged his lips against yours. He tasted like mint and like the cigarette the both of you had just shared.

His strong palm lingered against the back of your knee, holding you in place as he gently stroked your skin. He moved his fingers up further, making goosebumps erupt from your skin as he began to flick his tongue against yours. You whimpered, melting against him as your kiss turned sloppy.

You enjoyed the sensation of his tongue against yours, how he flicked it against the tip of yours before he moved on to trace your teeth. There was no rhythm, just spit and urgency as he moved his hand underneath your skirt.

He dances his fingers up to your hip bone, tracing across your smooth flesh as his kiss became slower. You leaned forward, still craving the taste of his tongue as he came to a halt.

"What?" You asked him, your voice raw and lips swollen as you did your best not to whine. You could feel the desire between your legs, could feel the pleasure that was still simmering in your tummy.

"Fucking slut," He replied as he flipped your skirt over your hips, revealing your exposed skin to him. You chewed on your bottom lip, unable to stop your hips from moving as you stared at your slick cunt, "I thought you were a good girl?" He tsked, squeezing your ass cheek in his hand before he roughly smacked your skin.

You gasped, taken by surprise as the sound echoed in the room. A moan followed suit as he squeezed at your flesh again, his bottom lip captured between his teeth. His eyes were wide and hazy as he awaited your response.

"I am your good girl," You responded, knowing that at times you were anything but that. You dressed this way for a reason, liking the response that you gained from him, "What's wrong?" You mocked playfully, fluttering your eyelashes innocently like you were none the wiser.

"Really?" He scoffed as he smacked at your skin again, forcing you a little closer to him, "What kind of girl goes to school with no panties on?" He questioned, moving close enough that you could count the freckles on his nose.

"A bad one," You whimpered, unable to help yourself as he slowly dragged his fingers down to your wet folds. He touched you gently, teasingly before he pulled his hands away, "Billy, please."

"Please what?" He mocked, pouting his bottom lip out for extra effect as he pressed one of his fingers against your clit. You whimpered at the way your body jolted in response, pleasure shooting up your spine as you pressed forward.

"Fuck me," You spit out a second later, "I didn't wear them for you. I wanted to tease you." You cooed, gasping at the way he slowly began to roll his finger against your clit.

"Mhm," He flicked his tongue across his teeth before his lips grew into a smirk, "Just for me? You sure you're not being a little whore parading around like that?"

"No, no," You breathed out as you desperately took a hold of his bicep, "Never. I want you. Please. Wanna feel your cock." You moaned as you moved your palm over his tight jeans, pressing against the very obvious hard on.

He groaned at the sensation, twitching against you as his blue eyes grew darker. He watched you for a long moment, smirking before he pulled his hand away from your cunt.

You whined at the loss, beginning to form a plead on your tongue before he hastily pushed you back onto the bed. You fell flat, your skirt resting up over your waist as he kicked your legs apart.

You sat on your elbows, eagerly watching as he tugged his jeans off over his thick legs. You traced your eyes over his body, enjoying his strong muscles and golden skin.

Your eyes fell to his cock, drinking in how long and thick he was as he crawled up over your body. He pressed his thumb against your lips, tracing them softly as he positioned himself between your legs.

He wrapped his thick fingers around his girth, keeping his eyes locked on your features as you stared at the way he slowly stroked himself in his hand. He parted his lips, groaning loudly to tease you as you felt a fresh wave a desire spread through you.

"Billy, please," You whined in desperation as you rolled your hips forward, trying to feel something against your soaked cunt, "I need you so badly." You pleaded with him as you brought your eyes back up to his.

"Okay," He cooed as he rubbed his fat tip against your aching clit. You crooned at the sensation, desperately needing more of it, "I've got you, baby girl." He reassured you as he slowly and tantalizingly slid his cock inside of your fluttering walls.

You sighed in relief as your head hit the pillow, your mind fuzzy as your cunt stretched around his throbbing cock. You savored the way he curved, the ridges and how he fit inside of you perfectly. Like he was made for you.

He moved a hand to your hip, sliding the other one underneath your neck as he held you close to him. His lips brushed against yours, sharing a moan as he bottomed out inside of you.

Every time you took in a breath of air you swore that he slid in deeper and further. The pleasure was intense, shooting down to the tips of your toes and clear up to your foggy mind.

"This what you wanted, yeah?" He asked, groaning as he slowly pulled his hips back an inch or two before he thrusted deep inside of you again. You mewled at the sensation as your cunt fluttered around him, inviting him in even deeper, "You were just so desperate for my cock, weren't you?"

"Yes," You answered quickly, your lungs feeling tight as the weight of him began to press you into his mattress. You moaned as you moved your hands towards his bare hips, clinging to he dragged his cock in and out of your wet cunt, "Oh my God."

You moaned out in response, shutting your eyes tightly as the pleasure rushed through your body. His grip on your waist was tight as he moved you along the length of his cock. You breathed in deeply, feeling your toes curl in response.

"All my dumb baby had to do was ask," He mocked as he dragged his teeth against your bottom lip, nipping softly, "Woulda given it to you. You didn't have to be a little whore."

"M'sorry," You whimpered as the tip of his cock pressed against your bundle of nerves, making stars appear in your eyes, "Fuck, fuck." You chanted as you began to rock your hips up against him, desperate to feel more of him.

He groaned as he brushed his nose against yours, his breath hot against your lips as you continued to cling to his skin. You could feel your cunt clamping down around him, squeezing him in tighter as the muscles in your stomach clenched together tightly.

The sound of your skin meeting sent you over the edge, a loud cry leaving your mouth as you spasmed underneath his warm body. Your pleasure crashed over you, your clit throbbing as you came around him.

You gasped loudly as you continued to hold onto him, enjoying the way he was groaning into the crook of your neck. You felt your toes curling as soft moans fell from your lips.

You were leaking around his cock, soaking his bed as he continued to grind his cock deep inside of you. You pressed your hands roughly against his skin, savoring the feeling of him as his thrusts became more shallow.

"Jesus," He grunted as he rolled his head back, his blonde curls sticking to the nape of his neck, "You're such a good little slut for me. Fuck, fuck." He cursed, groaning loudly as he pressed himself deep inside of you.

You gasped, looking down at the way his cock was buried snug inside of your cunt. You shivered as his warm spunk filled you, painting your walls white. His lips fell open in bliss, his eyebrows furrowed together as sounds of pleasure fell from his tongue.

He stayed there for a moment, exhaling deeply as he brushed his nose against yours once again. You leaned forward, giggling as his lips pulled into a pretty grin.

"That was nice," He whispered softly, his eyes swimming with thoughtfulness as he stared at you. He paused, looking like he was going to say something else before he ultimately changed his mind, "Hope you got what you wanted. Brat."

[hearts4court]

Thigh!kink with Billy Hargrove.

A/N: MMMM MY MAN. i had so much fun writing this and i’m totally not super late on kinktober🙊

Kinktober Masterlist 🎃🦇

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Fem!plus size!reader.

⚠️Smut under the cut!!⚠️

Billy LOVES your thighs. He’s always grabbing them while he drives, while he fucks you, while you two are in class together, and also when y’all are just hanging out.

His hands are always on your thighs. Billy also loves how big they are, he gets upset when you talk bad about your weight or how big you are.

The bigger, the better. 🤷🏻‍♀️

~~~~~~~

“fuck— Billy!” you cried as he overlapped at your pussy. His hands gripping onto your thighs covered in handprints, bruises, scratches, and hickeys from Billy.

He growled against your pussy as he looked up at you, your hand gripping onto his dirty blonde curls and your moans filling up the room like water had Billy practically drooling.

“You’re gorgeous, princess. Absolutely stunning, every inch of you.” he said, biting onto your thighs, his arms slipped under your thighs to hold you down from squirming didn’t do much.

“hold still, baby.” he said as you panted.

“Say it. Say you’re perfect, or i won’t let you cum.” he said in a demanding tone.

“M’perfect!” you cried as you fought to control your release. “Good girl.” he said as he overlapped at your pussy again, smirking to himself when your juices leaked out of you and all over him.

Don’t copy, translate or repost any of my work w/o my permission.

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 1)

This is to answer a request I received from an anonymous user a couple of months ago “Billy asks shy reader out and is protective over her”, for some reason I can't directly respond to their post still getting used to Tumblr. Sorry for taking a while to write this one. Anyway, I got a little bit carried away and turned it into a short fic, I just loved the whole concept. I’ll definitely post a part 2. Comments and constructive opinions are always appreciated 🩷

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

______________________________________________________________

You have always watched him from a distance.

There was something magnetic about him. Where he was, energy swirled.

You have never spoken to him. He’s something inaccessible to you. He hangs out with the popular crowd. Yet, unlike all of them, he doesn’t seem to pretend. He doesn’t show off. He naturally exudes an aura that makes him alluring. He’s not just what could be called "hot." No, he’s beautiful. When you first saw him in the school hallways, you could swear that for a second, your heart stopped. He was playing with his lighter, walking with an assured stride in the direction of his classroom with Jason Carver. He was a palette of contrasting colors that stood out in perfect harmony. His tanned face was framed by long, golden curls that almost fell over his shoulders. He looked straight ahead as he listened to the boy at his side with his red mouth stretched into a smirk that revealed white teeth. His cupid bow was dusted with stubble. It was no surprise that most of the girls looked at him with no shame, the shyest ones glancing up as soon as he passed them. That California boy did not look like a boy. He looked like a man. You could tell by the way he was built, the black leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, the muscular legs in his denim jeans.

You had realized that you were staring openly at him when he passed by you and, probably feeling the weight of your gaze on him, his eyes had met yours. There, something had happened inside you. His eyes were the purest blue you had ever seen. They were crystalline. But it was the long dark lashes that gave his gaze something expressive and unique. They were the embodiment of what is called a piercing gaze. It was a unique paradox: as angelic as it was rough in outline. Awakening from your enchantment, you lowered your gaze with an abrupt jerk of your head and resumed putting your books away in the locker, feeling your cheeks on fire and your heart beating wildly.

That was the only time you had even a remote semblance of contact with him. 

As you rush to your English literature class a month later, rounding the corner of the hallway, the last thing you expect is to bump into him. You let out an "ouch" as you collide with his hard chest, your notes and pencil case tumbling to the ground in the chaos. It's only when you raise your eyes in a flurry of apologies that you realize who you've bumped into. You swallow, kneeling and picking up your notes hastily. 

"You alright?"

"Yes. Yes." the notes slip through your shaking fingers.

His hands appear in your field of vision, and when you accidentally touch them, an electric shock almost makes you wince. He helps you pick them up, then raises to his feet and holds them to you. You thank him, thinking about what else you could say to avoid making the situation awkward. His baby blue shirt matches the color of his eyes. He’s even prettier from closer. 

"We’re in History class together, right?

His question surprises you. You didn't think he would remember you. You didn't think he would notice you.

"Yes. That's right."

He holds out his hand, his heavy-lidded gaze on you. "Billy."

You shake his hand, introducing yourself. His hand is large and his grip his firm, but gentle at the same time. That touch makes your stomach tangle. You can't believe he is talking to you.

"You're new, right?" you ask. You know fully well that he arrived here a month ago. You know full well that he is from California. He probably knows that you know, but he doesn't say anything about it

"Yes. Moved here last month."

“Oh, okay. Welcome to Hawkins, then.” you say gently as you absently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, him probably waiting for you to say something else. You point at the door down the hallway, starting to walk away. “I ah, I have to go to class. Sorry.”

And you walk away, no, you scurry away, almost escaping him, feeling a pang of embarrassment as you replay the scene later in your head, regretting how abruptly you left without saying more. 

You don’t cross paths with him again after that. However, you are clearly more aware of his presence during history classes even though you don’t interact again. 

In recent months, you've adopted a strategy of minimizing your visibility as much as possible. It’s not always easy. That Thursday is one of the hard days. Mr. Jensen, the new history teacher, makes his way through the rows of desks, collecting permission slips signed by parents for the upcoming day trip he has organized to Indianapolis. 

"Ah, I don't seem to have your permission slip yet," he inquires gently as he sees you empty-handed. "Did you forget to bring it today?" 

Feeling the eyes of everyone on you, your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate all of this attention on you. "I, um, I haven't been able to get it signed yet. My dad's been working double shifts, and I haven't caught him at home."

“I understand,” the teacher says, “But I need to give all the signed papers to the principal by tomorrow. Is it possibly to get it signed today? By your mother, perhaps?”

Before you could answer, Tommy Hagan's voice pierces the air, his tone laced with mockery. "She's probably halfway across the country by now, cozying up with some other guy."

You don’t even turn to look at him. You saw it coming. It’s been five months since she left now. Hawkins is a small town, so the news spread quickly. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact with your classmates as you feel the weight of their curious gazes. 

"I uh...I just," you try to ignore Tommy's comment, resting your eyes on the professor whose eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. "I'll tell my dad tonight. He's just been really busy. I will bring it to class tomorrow."

“If he comes back with the milk.” snickers Tommy. 

You stiffen instantly without wanting to, which the teacher doesn’t fail to notice.

“That's enough, Mr. Hagan. Comments like that have no place in my classroom.” he snaps as his eyes darken, his jaw set. His expression softens as he turns to you. “Don't worry about the permission slip for now. We'll make sure you're included."

As the professor returns to his seat, your eyes remain fixed on the spot where the desk is chipped, absently touching it with your fingernail. Your body fails to relax as you fight to ignore the burning in your throat, careful not to blink, your vision blurred for a few moments. But Tommy's yelp draws your attention and you turn your head to your left, where he is sitting next to Billy. 

“What was that for, man?”

Tommy is rubbing his shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain and a mixture of disbelief and confusion on his face. Billy stares straight ahead, his face cold and hard. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" he eventually mutters under the teacher’s explanation. However, it sounds more like a statement than a question.

As you go back to stare at your desk, your throat is still burning but your vision is clear again. You wonder if what Billy said was because of Tommy's comments. Why would he defend you? 

The rest of the class passes in a blur of confusion and unanswered questions. Tommy's hurtful words echo in your mind, leaving you shaken and upset, the sting of their cruelty lingering long after the bell rings.

***

On the morning of the school trip, you are tempted to call the school and say you are sick, but your father comes back from the plant later in the morning and will see that you are actually fine. Also, Mr. Jensen might suspect that something is going on. Only, the idea of spending the day with the whole class, but feeling more alone than you are when you're at school, doesn't appeal to you. You've never been very outgoing. Since your mother left, the armor that covered you has only thickened, alienating you from the rest of the world. To this day you have received no answers. She left overnight without warning. You never received a call. You knew that things had not been going well between your parents for some time. Or rather, your mother kept complaining about how being in Hawkins was suffocating her, how she was no longer happy. The pain was slowly becoming coated with resentment. She had abandoned you and your father as if nothing had happened, as if years of living together had counted for nothing. As if being a family had cost nothing. Arriving on the ground floor and finding the kitchen light off had now become a habit, not an odd occurrence. Other things had become routine: the unaccustomed silence in your house, the TV once perpetually on now always off, the teapot once always in use was now in the kitchen drawer. 

Once on the school bus, you spend your time looking out the window and counting the trees on the distant hills. You can feel the wind blowing outside, the rain pelting cruelly on the window. A crack lets a trickle of air through, making you shiver and clench tighter in your jacket. The ride at least passes quietly, no one talking to you or bothering you. Tommy Hagan keeps his comments to himself, too busy jabbering in the back of the bus with his band of friends. You can hear the occasional shrillness in the voice of Carol Perkins, his girlfriend. 

You spend almost the entire morning in the Indiana Historical Society, following the professor through the corridors of the museum. You stay in the background, drowning out the guide's voice and looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. As you change rooms, you realize that you are not the only one who has remained aloof. Billy Hargrove lingers to your side at the back of the row of students, his hands tucked into his leather jacket. You try not to be affected by his presence, suddenly self-conscious of the way you walk and breathe. You still remember what he told Tommy Hagan the week before. You are increasingly convinced that he defended you. As the class spreads in different directions, everyone observing something different and speaking lowly in small groups you realize he’s still here, on your side.  As you ponder if you should say something, or just assume that he’s walking behind on his own, he catches you off guard. 

“Kinda boring, huh?” 

“Yeah, a little," you respond, offering him a small smile that probably looks like a grimace. "History isn't my cup of tea."

“Mine neither,” his gaze scans the display cases lining the wall on your left. “Beats being seated all day in class, though.”

“Definitely,” you nod in agreement as you slowly cross through another room. Desperately trying to fill the silence, you come up with the first thing that crosses your mind. “I’ve been here before.”

“The museum?” 

“Indianapolis,” you say. You hesitate before finishing your thoughts. “My grandma lived here. I spent some weekends at hers.” 

Billy hums. He sniffs, then retrieves some chewing gums from his back pocket. He unwraps one. “How’s the city?” 

“It’s great. Oh, thank you.” you softly say as you take the gum he’s offering you. “There are some nice parks.” 

He pops the chewing gum in his mouth. “We have quite a few in San Diego too.

You turn toward him, curiosity overcoming your shyness. “You lived in San Diego?”

“Yes. Big change of scenery.”

“I can imagine.” your gaze wanders to the antique objects displayed in a glass case. “I’ve seen pictures, it looks incredible.” memories of your dad's album, from when he was young, flood your mind – images of palm trees swaying in the breeze, golden beaches stretching for miles, and endless blue skies that seemed to merge seamlessly with the ocean. 

“That’s something else, yeah. Honestly, I couldn’t complain at all.” 

“I wish I could see California,” you say a little dreamily. 

“I can take you one day.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. So you let out a nervous giggle, avoiding his gaze, assuming he is joking. Fortunately, the professor calls your attention back. It's lunchtime and he tells you that you are free to go wherever you want, as long as you are outside the museum within four hours. You told your father the school would pay for the student's lunch because you know times are tough. He insisted on giving you ten dollars in case you need it.

You walk down the steps of the museum looking around and thinking about where you could make all this time go. It's going to be long. You know a few restaurants, but you know that your pocket money is clearly not enough to eat there. A gust of wind brings the smell of smoke to your nostrils, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy stop beside you. His eyes take in your surroundings.

“So, you told me you know the city.”

“Huh, yes,” you answer, a little lost. “Not all of it, but most of it, like downtown.”

Billy exhales the smoke he’s been holding in his mouth.  “Are we downtown?” 

You look around, recognizing the skyscrapers in the distance. "Yes," you point to the skyline to your right, figuring he simply wants to ask you for information so he knows where to go with his friends. "It's over there."

“Sweet. You hungry?” 

The silence that passes between the two of you makes him turn toward you, waiting for your response. So you rush to answer, ignoring the way his piercing blue eyes make you feel self-conscious.

“Yes. Yes, a little bit,” then you ask him, unsure: “...are you?”

“Starving.” he resumes walking down the stairs again, and you follow him, trying to figure out if he really means what you think he means. Some classmates are already leaving in different directions. “You know someplace to eat?” 

“I do. But I don’t have enough. In case you want to go together. If that’s what you were offering.” You add, mentally slapping yourself. Why does everything you say have to come across as weird? Besides, you just admitted that you are practically out of money. “I can show you, though.”

Billy shakes his head, shifting in his leather jacket. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.” 

“No, really, I can't let you do that," you insist, your voice tinged with concern. "I mean, I appreciate it, but I can't just let you pay for me."

Billy turns to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he exhales the smoke sideways. "Come on, it's no big deal," he reassures you. "Consider it my way of saying thanks for showing me around. Besides, it's not like I'm short on cash."

You hesitate for a moment. But ultimately, you know that accepting his offer would ease the burden on your wallet. With a resigned sigh, you nod in agreement. "Okay, if you insist," you concede, offering him a small smile. "But just this once.”

You wanna immediately grimace at your pathetic implication that there would be another time, but Billy doesn’t seem to notice anyway.

He just winks at you. And even if he’s not smiling or anything, it still makes your stomach flip. "Deal," he says. "Now, lead the way."

As you walk beside each other through the park later on, you relish in what surrounds you, not even realizing the silence that has settled between the two of you because it feels so natural. Some people are jogging, there are some families too, or people walking alone headed who knows where. The birds are chirping in the trees that are alongside the walk. You spot a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of one of them, its fluffy tail waving wildly. The late afternoon sun is shining right in front of you, hitting your skin in a gentle caress. Spring is gradually unfurling its colors, bringing with it a glimmer of warmth that has been absent from your life lately. In the midst of the cold and desolation that settled in after your mother's departure, this glimpse of light offers a tentative promise of renewal, a small beacon of hope amid the darkness that has enveloped you and your father. You glance at Billy, realizing that in the short span of your conversation, he's frequently reached for a cigarette. Yet, even during the moments when he abstained, like in the museum and at the restaurant, his mouth was never empty. It was either occupied by a mint, a bite of burger, the straw of his milkshake, or eventually a toothpick found on the table. 

“So, uhm, have you been somewhere else besides San Diego or Hawkins?” you venture. 

“Nope”, he answers, the “p” resounding loudly. He looks around, one hand in his jacket pocket as the other one holds the cigarette on his side. “Never moved from Cali. I was born in Santa Barbara. Then moved to San Diego when I was ten.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Is Santa Barbara close to the ocean?”

“It is. I’ve always lived by the ocean.” 

You turn to him, enthusiasm laced in your voice as you get carried away in the conversation. “So you know how to surf?” 

Billy chuckles, nodding as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “I do, yeah. Surfed every day.” 

“Wow.” you breathe, your mind wandering away. “It must be…like an adrenaline rush.”

As Billy exhales the smoke, you don’t miss the nostalgic glint flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. "Yeah, it's something else. There's nothing quite like catching a wave, feeling the power of the ocean beneath you."

“I’ve heard it’s hard to learn.” you muse softly. 

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps punctuates the conversation. Billy stays silent for a few seconds, probably lost in his thoughts. Then he shrugs. “To be honest, I was on the surfboard since I was a child, so must’ve been natural for me. But yeah, it generally is.

“I can only imagine," you respond, a sense of longing in your voice. You’ve only seen this kind of landscape in pictures or on TV.  "Must have been amazing growing up with that kind of freedom."

Billy's sigh is loud as he exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "It was. Surfing was my escape, you know? Whenever things got tough, I could just grab my board and disappear into the waves."

What he says lightens some curiosity in you. You wonder what he means by that. You wonder what he went through, what his past was like. There’s something really intriguing about him. But you refrain from asking more, aware of how little you know each other. Besides, you can’t help but notice the little twitch of his jaw muscles as he says it. 

"It’s always been books for me.” you offer. “They have this way of transporting you to another world, making you forget about everything else."

Billy nods in understanding. “What kinda books you read?”

“Oh,” you look at your shoes as you feel suddenly vulnerable. You almost feel ashamed of your taste in books, but you know you shouldn’t. “A bit of everything, really. I’m reading a Dostoevsky one right now.

“Dostoevsky, huh? Pretty heavy stuff.”

“You’ve read some of him before?

“I read Dream of a Ridiculous Man. A long time ago though.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, recalling how challenging it was to finish it when you read it a couple of months ago. Reading books by Dostoevsky, especially that one, has been both a cathartic and enlightening experience. They made you feel less alone in your pain. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda controversial.” he grimaces. “It’s a fucking depressing book. But... it's like... there's something about it that just... resonates, you know what I mean? Like, you read it and... it's like looking into a mirror, but... the reflection's all twisted and weird. I don't know if that makes any sense.” he shrugs. 

It couldn’t make more any sense to you. For the first time, you feel understood in that sense. It's a relief to know that you're not alone in finding meaning within its pages. His words resonate deeply with you. 

“I totally get it. That’s part of the reason why I like his books.” 

The subtle revelation hangs in the air with the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the concrete path. You hope he’s not reflecting on your words too much, aware of what you’ve implied. Your own thoughts go on what he said. Why did Billy resonate so much with the book? What if there’s something everybody can relate to, even people who haven’t experienced anything bad in life?

“You?” he then asks. “Always been in Hawkins?”

“Born and raised.” you nod. Then you add, a bit sheepishly: “Nothing like California, unfortunately.” 

Billy snorts, flicking his cigarette. “What’s there to do in summer?”

“Oh uh. Nothing much. We have a public pool.” you offer, looking at him. 

Billy takes a drag, his eyes trailing on the path in front of both of you.

“We have Lover’s Lake too,” you add. “It’s quite nice, actually. People spend the day there and have barbecues or campfires.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that one,” he says. “You guys party by the lake during summer or something like that.” 

“Yes.” then you keep quiet for a few breaths, imagining he’s probably heard it from one of his friends from the basketball team. They’re usually to host parties or organize them. It always involves loads of alcohol and ends up in big scandals. You feel the urge to correct him. “Not me, though. I don’t, uh…I don’t party.” 

You feel his eyes on you. “Makes sense.”

You look up at him in question. 

“Didn’t see you at the Halloween party.”

“The one hosted by Tina Williams?” you soon look away as soon as you meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you…you noticed.”

“Would’ve sure as hell noticed if you were there.”

As Billy's words settle in, you feel a warmth spreading through you, starting from the tips of your ears and flushing your cheeks crimson. His simple compliment catches you off guard, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within you. You find yourself struggling to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering away as you search for some semblance of composure. None of this makes sense. The mere fact that he recognized your absence at the party, that he shared lunch with you, that he's now walking beside you in the park—it all feels inexplicable. You're accustomed to blending into the background, being an outcast in the bustling halls of the school. You're no stranger to the whispers that swirl around you, painting you as the outsider, the comments about your situation at home, the subtle jabs at your circumstances. The silence between you stretches, pregnant with unspoken thoughts. 

“You alright?” you hear him ask.

You slow down, lingering to a stop as you realize Billy has stopped walking too. He looks down at you with a hint of curiosity, the sun caressing his golden skin and reflecting in his eyes, becoming like polished, crystalline gems. That’s when you notice little details you haven’t paid attention to before. The scar cutting through his right eyebrow, the pattern of freckles dusting his nose. 

“I guess I’m just a little confused,” you admit. 

Billy exhales the smoke from his nostrils, his gaze effortlessly fixed intensely on you. “Why is that?”

“I just…” you try to not avoid his gaze. “Why are you here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement and what looks like genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His question is so simple it takes you off guard. Makes you question your reasoning. As you’re at a loss for words, you feel a blush slowly creeping down your cheeks. 

Billy’s lips slowly curve into a smile, somewhat teasing. “You really have pretty eyes, you know that?”

You’re positively sure you’re as red as a lobster now, a little whine escaping your lips as embarrassment settles over you. It’s the most instinctual reaction. It makes him chuckle, and makes you awkwardly laugh in response, because what else can you do? He tilts his head to the side, trying to meet your avoiding eyes. 

“How about that? I’m here with you ‘cause of your pretty eyes”. 

“I really don’t think they’re that special.” you shake your head, still laughing. 

You’re not that innocent to not realise he’s openly flirting with you. You’re not surprised, because just looking at him is enough. You’ve also heard things about him and some girls at high school. What surprises you, is that he’s flirting with you. You don’t have that much experience in the love department, but there’s something sincere and genuine in the way he’s doing it now. There’s something soft in his eyes that tells you he’s sincere.

“Well, it’s a shame,” he says, that’s when you realise how much closer you are to each other. You can tell by how you can smell the tobacco and his cologne, his silver earring shining as it catches the sun. He tilts his head again, this time catching your gaze as you muster the courage to lock eyes with him. “’Cause you have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, nodding your head slightly. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

You feel like you want to return the compliment because his eyes are the reason why your heart is reacting the way it does. But then again, you’re too shy to do that, and a tiny part of you thinks it would make things weird or would end up having you vulnerable because you don’t know for sure if his compliment is fueled by real interest in you. 

“I just don’t hang out with anyone, trust me.”

As a distant church bells toll four times, their echoes drifting across the park, a subtle reminder of the passing time washes over you both. The realization settles in that it’s time for you to go. You should be back in front of the museum in half an hour. 

Luckily, Billy saves you from answering as he breaks eye contact and looks up beyond your shoulder, where the church is. “We should go,” he says.

As you walk back to the museum, you think about his words. Now you realize that you didn’t see him hanging around Tommy Hagan lately. In particular, today on the bus, the latter was seated with his girlfriend and hung out with two other members of the basketball team. Billy was somewhere else the whole time.

When you two reach the museum, the teacher is already counting everyone to make sure the whole class is there. Billy joins his mates, elbowing one of them in a friendly gesture. You didn’t fail the notice the looks most of your classmates shot at you when he saw you two arrive together. The teacher draws the class's attention back to the trip, prompting feedback and reflections from everyone.

What you don’t expect either once on the bus, is feeling someone sitting on the empty seat next to yours. Billy gets comfortable, making it seem something so normal as he stretches his long legs as far as the cramped quarters allow. His thigh brushes against yours and your heart jumps a little in your ribcage, but a few minutes later you start to relax. You can’t help the feeling of warmth spreading through your chest as you take in his choice to sit deliberately next to you. You don’t need to fill the silence, or at least not as strongly as a few hours ago. You’re also quite tired. As you venture a glance in his direction, Billy’s eyes are closed. It seems you’re not the only one feeling tired. His arms are crossed over his chest but his facial features are totally relaxed now that he’s dozing off, his head resting against the seat. His hair seems soft at the touch, a curl falling unruly on his forehead. You feel the distant urge to wrap it around your finger, brush it from his face. There is a difference between now and when he’s fully awake: his expression softened, his gaze peaceful, and his features relaxed. It's a stark contrast from the demeanor you've observed from a distance, where his smile is more wolfish, his facial muscles tense, and his eyes often distant or bored. You force yourself to look away from him, setting your gaze on the window. As the rhythmic hum of the bus lulls you into a state of drowsiness, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of the moment envelops you, and soon, you find yourself dozing off as well. 

Once you get off the bus, you wrap your arms around your waist as you shiver. The weather is distinctly different. It seems to have been raining all day. The sky is darkening. School buses cannot take you home because there is no bus stop near your house. Forest Hill Trailer Park is in the isolated part of Hawkins. There is no one from the high school living there, so you can't ask anyone for a ride. It's not like anyone would have offered anyway. You've always walked to and from school, in total it takes you forty minutes. As you start to walk away from the bus, you hear footsteps behind you and Billy is at your side, effortlessly catching up with you. You realize his car is parked a few steps away from you. The gleaming navy blue Camaro stands out among the other cars, ‘CALIFORNIA’ on the license plate.

You take the opportunity to thank him before he can dart away and you will probably never exchange another word again.

“Hey,” you start, turning to look at him. “I just wanted to thank you for paying at lunch today.”

Billy plays with the lighter, making it bounce in his hand. “It’s nothing. How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m walking.” you point your thumb at the road on your left.

“Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Your mouth opens and closes stupidly, then your brain finally decides to cooperate. Accepting his offer feels like taking advantage of his kindness. You don't want to do this. “I…it’s not a long walk, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s probably gonna rain soon.” he points at the sky, walking past you and toward the parked car.

“You don’t have to.” you insist, guilt filling my stomach as he opens the passenger door for you.

“I know.” he chuckles. 

The soft thrumming of a rock song fills the air, the bass pulsing gently as Billy lowers the volume as soon as he turns the engine on. The interior of the Camaro envelops you in a world that feels distinctly his. The smell of leather fills your senses, mingling with the faint scent of his cologne. It's clear that he takes immense pride in his car and the care and attention he devotes to it reflects on the interior. The leather seats feel soft and smooth. There's not a speck of dust anywhere, even in the corners. A pair of aviators rests on the dashboard. 

You give him directions, your voice cutting through the quiet ambiance of the car. He nods in acknowledgment, his gaze focused on the road ahead. His left arm casually drapes against the window, while his other hand firmly grasps the top of the steering wheel. 

“It’s quite a walk,” he observes as the Camaro speeds through the road surrounded by the woods. 

“Yeah…”

You’re thinking of asking him to stop before getting to Forest Hill, but it’s pouring and you don’t have an umbrella. As you get closer and closer, anxiety starts rippling through you. You shake the feeling out of your head. You’re being ridiculous, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Additionally, you barely know him. You try and distract yourself, asking him about where he lives instead.

“Cherry Lane. You know where it is?” 

“Yes, it’s a nice and quiet area. It’s not that far from school either,” you observe.

Billy absently scratches his chin, the glint of a silver braided ring catching your eye. “Yeah. It’s quiet, that’s for sure.” 

You find yourself wondering about its significance. Does it have one? You've heard numerous accounts of Billy's involvement in fights at parties, tales of the severe injuries sustained by those who crossed him, and the ferocity of his punches. How many times has that ring been tainted with someone else's blood? Despite the rumors surrounding his aggressive behavior, your interactions with Billy have always been positive. He's consistently shown kindness to you.

Billy turns left, veering off the main road onto a narrow side road, the tires crunching on the gravelly dirt path that winds its way towards Forest Hills. The rain drums insistently against the car, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence between you.

The first trailer emerges into view, its weather-beaten exterior casting a shadow of foreboding over your already uneasy mind. Despite your discomfort, you muster the courage to speak up, directing Billy to continue driving until the end of the road.

You steal a furtive glance at him, searching for any hint of judgment in his expression, but Billy remains impassive. There's no trace of surprise or disdain in his features. His gaze lingers on the scene before you, studying it with a detached curiosity that seems to characterize his view of Hawkins as a whole.

“Thanks again for today, really. I wanna pay you back,” you venture as he slows down.

Billy waves a dismissive hand before settling it on the gear shift, smoothly transitioning into first gear. “I told you it’s no big deal. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

You worry at your lip, still not totally convinced. You glance at him. “I know that. But it doesn’t sound fair. It’s important to me.”

Billy's gaze shifts to the road ahead as he seemingly considers your words. "If you really wanna make it up to me," he starts, his voice trailing off for a moment before he continues, "How about you show me around Hawkins sometime?"

You blink, caught off guard by his suggestion. "Show you around Hawkins?"

"Yeah," he nods, resting his forearm loosely on the steering wheel as he gestures while he talks. "I've only been here a short while, and I don't really know my way around outside downtown yet. Like, all the places you talked to me about. The lake, the quarry."

The idea appeals to you, though the thought of spending more time with him outside of school never crossed your mind. The fact of spending time with him in the first place was out off the charts for you. "Sure, I could do that," you reply, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I mean, I'm not exactly a tour guide, but I could show you some cool spots. Whenever you want, uhm. Yeah.”

Billy reaches out to the compartment on the passenger side, brushing your knee with his arm. He opens it and extracts a pen. 

“Here,” he takes off the cap with his teeth, and before you know it he’s taking your arm, gently lifting your sweater sleeve. 

You try to look unfazed by his touch, though the feeling of his fingertips pressing gently against your skin as he holds your forearm, the sensation of the pen as he writes something on it makes you shiver, raising goosebumps. You look at him in silent confusion as he writes, his dark lashes brushing his cheekbones, a glimpse of pearly white teeth and a sharp canine as he holds the cap between them. Then he releases your arm, and you take a look at it while he takes the cap from his mouth. A series of numbers are written in blue ink on your skin. A phone number.

“Oh.” you say softly. You definitely haven’t expected that.

“Call me when you feel like it.” 

It’s really hard for you to hide your nervousness, acting as cool as you can.

“Okay, will do.” you unbuckle your belt, glancing at him enough to give him a soft smile.

Billy nods at you in silent farewell before you close the passenger door. “Have a good night”.

“You too. Bye.”

The warmth of Billy's presence lingers in the car as you step out into the cool, damp air, the raindrops falling softly around you. Closing the door behind you, you watch as the sleek navy blue Camaro disappears down the little road and into the woods from the small window of the living room. As you stand there, the drops of water falling from the end of your hair, you can't help but brush at the phone number on your forearm, tracing the neat handwriting with your fingertips. It's like you're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Though you're trying to keep it under control, you can't help the fluttering feeling in your heart.

[billys-pretty-babe]

Favorite Thing You Love To Do

Pairing : Older!Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : A simple little gift for Billy gets him unbelievably turned on.

Warnings : swearing, smut (oral - fem! receiving, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms -> squirting, restraints - under the bed system, billy has a jacob's ladder piercing), age gap (billy is 37, reader is 27) aftercare, billy makes a pegging joke

Word count : 3,740

A/N : this is very dirty and very self indulgent, sorry

Title is inspired by Everything I Wanna Do by Nickelback (X)

You looked at the pictures that Nancy Wheeler had helped you develop, neither of you letting Jonathan see the raunchy pictures of you on Billy's car. They had a film developing room in their house which you were very fortunate for.

You watched the pictures dry as Nancy stood next to you, her jaw dropping as the first one developed and you laughed. Robin had helped you with the pictures considering she and Billy weren't close in the slightest.

The picture became more and more visible, showing you in one of his white shirts that had oil stains from working on cars for the past ten plus years, your legs were slightly open, showing the black lace underwear that you were wearing. "Hope you liked walking," Nancy said, giggling a little. You laughed and watched the other pictures develop.

She helped you collect them carefully so they wouldn't damage and soon you were on your way back to Billy's house. He stood in the driveway, washing his car, his hair pulled back and shirtless, showing all of the tattoos he had.

He looked at you, winking as he puffed on a cigarette. You got out of your car, walking to him and kissing his bearded jaw. "I'll be back." He nodded and you walked inside, putting the pictures in his room on his bed, spacing them out.

You walked back outside, watching him wash his car. "Think you missed a spot," you said. He glanced at you, turning the hose at you, getting your shirt wet. Your jaw dropped and he laughed, dropping his own jaw to mock you. He finished up, drying his car off and he made you move so he could put his car back into the garage.

He left the garage door open and got out of the car, wiping down his sweaty body. He walked over to you, wiping your face gently from where he sprayed you with hose water. He leaned down slightly, tilting your head up and kissed you. "Got ya somethin'," you said against his lips. He hummed, pecking your lips a few times before pulling away from you.

You grabbed his hand, walking into the house and leading him to his room. "If you're sticking something in my ass, I appreciate the sentiment babe, but you're not sticking anything up there. you're lucky I even put up with you spanking me." You laughed, shaking your head.

"Close your eyes," you said and made sure he shut his eyes before guiding him into the bedroom. You put him in front of the bed and moved so you were behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, "Open 'em," you said before kissing the birthmark on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes, letting them adjust for a few seconds before he picked up one of the pictures. He held it close to his face, looking at how prominent your features were.

You were laid out on the hood of his car, his shirt right below your breasts, your ass was on the hood, your legs slightly open. He whistled, putting it down gently before picking up the next one. You weren't in this one, but the window was foggy with a heart and two dots in the middle, he knew just from the distance between the dots what created them.

"I took that one myself," you said against his warm skin, your hand running down his toned stomach, your nails scratching at his happy trail that he couldn't be bothered to trim or shave off. He hummed, "That one might have to go in my office." He put it down, picking up a different one.

"Jackpot," he said, looking at the picture of you bent over his hood, your ass on display as you wore his favorite pair of heels. The shirt was wet, the hood of his car was wet, and the shirt was very much see-through, the shirt clinging to your breasts. He continued looking at the pictures and put one on his bedside, putting the others on his desk, mumbling about hanging them up in various places.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. You laughed when you felt his erection, "I assume you like the pictures." He laughed, "Like is an understatement, babe," he said before peppering a few kisses to your jaw and behind your ear.

"Whatcha want in return, baby," he asked in your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe. You shivered at his voice, "Whatever you'll give me." He smirked against your skin, his teeth latching onto a spot on your neck as he began sucking at it, his tongue licking where his teeth marks were.

"Should fuck you on the hood of Baby Blue, that'll be for another day," he said, his hands gripping your ass. "Can't believe you did that, you fucking knew the reaction you would get, fuckin' minx." You laughed, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him.

You pulled away, looking at him, "You love it though." He hummed, "Guess so," he said as one of his hands moved before quickly slapping under your ass. He rubbed the spot, peering at you through his lashes. You rubbed his chin, eyes going to the little gray patches.

"Love these," you murmured, gently pulling on them. He hummed, kissing your skin, letting his lips wander to the top of your tits as he licked and sucked on the skin. You pulled his thick hair and he moved, a string of spit connecting his bottom lip to the top of your tit.

"I need you on my face," he said, his voice dripping with lust. That piqued your interest, you had never done that before. "Okay," you murmured. He helped you take off your clothes and he left your underwear on, moving you so you were laying on your back on the large bed. He kissed down your body, grabbing the elastic in between his teeth as he pulled the fabric down, laying a quick kiss to your clit as it peeked between your folds.

He moved so he was laying down in his boxers, throwing the pillows to the ground. "Come 'ere, pretty baby." His voice alone could get you off. He put his hand out to you, a few rings decorated his veiny hands along with a couple of tattoos, miniscule ones that held very little meaning.

You took his hand as he guided you to hover over his face. His hands grabbed your thighs as he looked up at you. "Sit down." You lowered yourself just a little and his eyes squinted, "Sit, don't hover. I don't do that hovering shit. If you suffocate me, then great. Put it on my headstone to let everyone know I went out eating your pussy." You gasped at his vulgarity before lowering yourself more, feeling his nose and he pulled you down the rest of the way.

His tongue was immediately licking up the slick that was dripping from you. Your right hand sat on his forehead as your fingers tangled into his roots, your left hand going to the headboard and holding onto the metal bar.

Two of the straps from the under the bed restraints were threaded through the bars. Your head was already fuzzy as he licked your clit. The sounds were loud, he was moaning against you, the vibrations stimulating your clit. It was messy, you knew that when you heard the squelch of two fingers entering you.

"Billy," you moaned, gripping his hair tighter, your head falling forward to the black wall. Your hips rocked and he pushed you up just a little to catch his breath and speak, "There you go, fuck my face, baby," he said before kissing your thigh, using one of his hands to steadily fuck you with as he lowered you back down with the other.

His teeth lightly grazed your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more. You were sure you were getting beard burn and simultaneously bleaching his beard, but that was a problem for another day. "Billy, please. Oh fuck," you whimpered, moving your hips a little faster, doing your best to keep your composure, while also trying to be mindful of the death grip you had on his hair.

He let go of your clit, kissing it as he pulled his fingers out of you, his hand grabbing your ass and you felt your slick on your warm skin. His tongue licked up the mess you had created. Your thighs were shaking a little and he moved his lips back to your clit, humming around it, his tongue flicking over it a few times.

"Fuck," you moaned loudly, your head going back as your back arched. Your hips slowly slowed down and once they were at a complete stop, you put your head against the wall, trying to catch your breath. He snickered, gently pushing you off of his face, letting you gently fall onto the mattress.

"Thoroughly fucked out, just the way I like it," he said as he wiped his beard. You glanced at him, "We're so doing that again." He laughed, "Whatever you say, honey." You leaned over and kissed him, your nails going down his chest as you snapped the elastic of his boxers onto his skin.

He shivered, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss, holding you as close as possible. You helped him take his boxers off, your hand immediately gripping his base, the curls decorating it brushed against your hand. The silver balls that decorated his shaft were warm in your hand and he shivered.

The Jacob's Ladder piercing was something stupid Billy got when he was eighteen. His tattoo was to rebel, but so was the piercing. It went from his base to right under his tip, and it provided the best stimulation for you. The first time you slept with him, the same night you lost your virginity to him, you were scared the piercing would hurt you and ripped stuff it wasn't meant to.

He assured you nothing would rip besides your hymen, not once have you regretted losing your virginity to him, you practically begged for another round right after just to feel the jewelry rub against your g-spot.

"Billy," you murmured against his lips before gently biting his bottom lip, pulling a little so it snapped back. He hummed, his eyes fluttering open as he looked at you. Your heart raced with love and lust, needing him inside of you, but also needing to be in his arms, safe and sound.

"Tell me what you need, and you'll get it," he said, his hand rubbing your back. The moment was the calm before the storm, the two of you knew that and you were both soaking in it. "Just need you, all of you," your voice was a little whiny, filled with desperation. He softly hushed you, still rubbing your back.

"Get in whatever position you want." You nodded, moving so you were on your knees, your chest pressed into the mattress. Billy grabbed one of the pillows from the floor. He reached under your chest, gently bringing you up as he put the pillow down so your chest wouldn't hurt that badly. He grabbed the velvet lined restraints, "Can we use these?" You quickly nodded. He leaned over you, pressing his hips against your butt as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back, "Words baby, you know I need verbal consent." You nodded once again, "I wanna use them."

He nodded, leaning down and kissing the tip of your nose before pecking your lips and he let your chin go as he unwound the restraints from the headboard. You happily put your arms out and he chuckled, taking your left wrist and sliding it through the restraint as he tightened the plastic buckle which in turn tightened the cuff around your wrist.

"Flex your fingers for me." You flexed your fingers. "Do they tingle?" You shook your head, "Uh uh." He nodded, doing your right wrist, doing the same blood flow check. He kissed your cheek and moved behind you once again. He grabbed your hips, moving your knees so your ass was higher in the air.

He leaned over you, kissing the dip between your shoulder blades and you hummed in delight. He moved your legs a little, spreading them a little more and he held the small of your back. "You ready for me, baby?" You nodded quickly and he laid a smack to the side of your ass. "Words, come on. I'm not telling you again." You shivered at his words, feeling a steady leak of your arousal.

"I'm ready, please. I need you so much." He chuckled, gently patting the side of your ass that he had spanked. "Sound so pretty when you're begging," he murmured, dipping his head down to kiss your lower back before he straightened up.

You felt his tip at your entrance and hummed, letting your eyes close as you rested your head on your arms. He slowly pushed in before groaning when you tightened around him. "Baby, relax. I know it's deeper in this position, but I can't move, gripping me like a fuckin' vice."

He licked the pad of his finger, reaching around your thigh and pressing his finger to your clit, rubbing small circles on it. You whined a little, kicking your feet at the unexpected stimulation. He kept pushing his hips forward, "There we go, doing so fucking good baby." You moaned his name when his hips were pressed against your ass.

He used a slow pace at first, letting you get used to everything before he quickened his thrusts. Your fingers gripped the black straps of the restraints. "Billy, oh fuck please," you moaned, your eyes were shut tight. His hands dug into your hips, his fingers would leave bruises, but you didn't care.

"That's it, good girl. Taking my cock so good, huh?" He saw the way your hands were shaking as you grasped the black straps tightly. "Easy baby, ease up on your grip. I don't want you getting hurt," he said as he rubbed the side of your body. He waited until your fingers were detached from the strap before starting his fast pace once more.

He felt the way you clenched around him and he let out a moan of your name. "Go ahead, let go for me." You kicked your right foot, moaning into the mattress as you did what he asked of you. Everything went numb as Billy slowed his pace so as to not overstimulate you too quickly. "There we go, that was good." You lifted your head out of the mattress, your mascara and eyeliner were fucked, but Billy still thought you were the most ethereal woman in the world.

"Keep going, please." He chuckled, rubbing your back. "Didn't plan on stopping," he said before starting his pace back up. It was messy, his skin was sticking to yours, his balls were slapping against your wet clit, in turn making the skin on his sac wet. "God baby, you're so good to me," he moaned, lowering his head slightly to catch his breath and trying to keep his composure.

The way he moaned made you clench again, the loud squelches he was pulling from your body had filled the room with your pretty moans and his desperate moans and grunts. He leaned over you, kissing your back. His pace slowed, but the thrusts were still hard and deep.

They were deep and hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs, each thrust you let out little "uh" sounds. "That's it, making such pretty sounds for me." You whimpered, moving so you were resting on your cheek. He took this chance to move his own head and kiss you. It wasn't the most comfortable position, especially for his back and knees, but he would do anything for you, even if it would cause him pain.

"I love you," he said as he looked into your eyes when he pulled his lips away from yours. You smiled, you were cock drunk and you were pretty sure you looked stupid, but that didn't matter. "I love you too," you said. You attempted to lift your hand up to push his hair out of his face, but the straps got in the way. He moved his right hand to the strap and loosened the plastic buckle and you pulled your arm out of it, pushing his sweaty hair back and you admired him.

Despite this being one of the most intense sexual sessions the two of you have had, it was still filled with love and admiration. His thumb rubbed at the side of your lip, kissing you once more before straightening himself out, giving you a few thrusts that were fast paced. The headboard knocked against the black painted wall, a few chips of paint falling.

You whimpered, attempting to shut your legs. He slowed down, "Talk to me baby," he said as he checked in with you. "Do I need to stop?" You shook your head, "Sensitive." He nodded, "I know baby, I know." He rubbed your back, going back to his slow and hard thrusts. Your ass jiggled against his body, and he watched, deeply enamored with the way your body moved.

He knew by the way you were clenching that you were about to have another orgasm. "Give me another one, babe. Doing so good for me," he praised you. He talked you through your high, rubbing your back and kissing your hot skin.

He slid your arms out of the restraints, tossing the straps backwards as they fell behind the headboard. He gently pulled out, seeing the mess on him and you as he gently rolled you over. He leaned over you, his hand on your face as you felt the pressure of his body on yours. "Hi baby," he said softly, pecking your lips. "Think you can give me one more?" You quickly nodded, not wanting this to end. "Alright babe, just lay there and look pretty for me."

You nodded again and he moved your legs apart, whistling softly. Your clit was puffy, your inner thighs were wet and your slit was steadily dribbling arousal. "Fucking shit," he moaned. He felt his cock twitch. "Where am I cummin' baby?" You hummed, "Inside," you said. Your voice was a little raspy from all of the moans.

He nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist before sliding into you once more. You were unbelievably wet, and you were sure that when your head cleared up you would be embarrassed at the noises your pussy made, but right now you couldn't even think about it.

He began rocking into you, using slow and deep thrusts. You held his face and kissed him before your hands made their way to his back, digging your nails in and scratching as far down as you could reach.

He hissed a little into your mouth before moaning softly. His hips stuttered a little before he stopped, taking a few seconds to collect himself. Billy had a saying in the bedroom, "Good girls cum come first." It was written right above the bed with metal that he had welded together.

He moved, straightening his posture so he could have a good grip on you as he began thrusting like his life depended on it. Your head went back as you gripped one of the metal bars of the headboard. "Let me have it, come on baby." The squelches got louder and something else alarmed you, a warm sensation in your lower belly. "Billy, wait, stop." Alarms went off in his head as he immediately stopped. "What happened? Did I hurt you?" You quickly shook your head, "I think I have to pee," you mumbled. You were embarrassed.

"Hey," he softly said, "It's not pee, baby. I promise, just let yourself go, alright?" You nodded, trusting him. He held your hand, kissing your knuckles before resuming his pace. He watched the way your body twitched and tensed, noting the way your tits were jiggling. You let out a moan that sounded like a borderline cry and he looked down where the two of you were connected.

He watched the way your clit pulsated right before the small gush happened. He moaned, feeling your squirt hit his lower stomach as he twitched inside of you. "Oh fuck baby, I'm cumming." He bowed his head down, his thrusts were sloppy as he came inside of you. It was warm and you moaned with the twitch of his cock.

When he was done, he gently pulled out, watching as the white substance had pooled to your entrance. He used two of his fingers to fuck it back into you before pulling them out. He moved up to you, tapping your lips and you opened your mouth, accepting the fingers before greedily sucking them.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, shivering as your teeth grazed his pads. He leaned down and kissed you, pulling you close to his body. He did a quick inspection, seeing if he was too rough with any part of your body. He rubbed the little bruises on your hips and your inner thighs.

"I'll be right back." He got up, slipped into a pair of shorts as he walked into the bathroom, wet a rag with warm water as he rung it out before walking to you and wiping you down. He tossed the rag in a hamper and pulled you close. "Gotta pee," you said. He nodded, "I know baby, just lay here for a few minutes to calm down." You nodded, holding onto him and he kissed the top of your head.

"Was I too rough?" You shook your head, snuggling up to him so your head was right under his chin as you closed your eyes, letting your body get warmed up by his. Your breathing evened out after a few minutes and he laughed, knowing you had fallen asleep. He rubbed your back gently as he grabbed the blanket he had thrown onto the floor as he covered the two of you up with it. "I love you," he murmured, holding you close as his hands gently kneaded at some of your muscles.

[sadhours]

READING FOR PLEASURE

billy hargrove x f!reader

a/n: this was inspired by @billyhargrovetitties story Cruel Summer, if you haven’t read it… you must. I am obsessed with it.

summary: billy finds your romance novel and teases you about it

warnings; 18+ minors dni, pure smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, billy doesn’t pull out and he panics, oops 🙊

When you return to your bedroom, Billy’s laid out on the bed, on his stomach and propping his head up with his elbow. It’s a cute sight, makes your stomach flip and fill with butterflies as a dirty blonde curl falls in the center of his forehead. You smile warmly and then glance down to see he’s got the romance novel you’d hidden in your bedside table spread out before him and he’s reading it with this all too satisfied grin on his face. When he gazes towards you, the grin meets his eyes, crinkling them up.

“Found your porn stash,” he teases, closing the cover but keeping his fingers tucked into the page he was on. “A Gentle Feuding,” he reads the title out loud with this exaggerated wistfulness to his voice and you know your face is all kinds of shades of crimson. You hope Billy hadn’t noticed the man portrayed on the cover somewhat resembles him, blonde and tan, and that’s why you’d picked the novel in the first place.

“It’s historical,” you lamely reason, lunging forward to grab the book from him but Billy’s reflexes are as quick as a cats. He pulls it out of your fingertips and you attempt to snatch it again, but he pulls it back and you go toppling over him. Billy uses the leverage to flip the both of you over and he’s straddling your waist, holding the book over his head when you reach towards it.

“Historical filth,” he counters, cheeks a little flush from the shuffle of your bodies but that grin permanently smeared on his face.

“Billy,” you whine, “Give it here. It’s embarrassing…”

As you raise your hands to grab it again, Billy grabs your wrists with his right hand and holds them down against your chest. Your whole body feels tight with humiliation and you choke back the tears forming in your eyes. God, you could be such a baby sometimes.

That’s why Billy liked you, though. You acted like such a good girl all the time, he was relieved to find the raunchy book because it let him know that deep down, you were a little vixen and his attempts to draw it out of you had been mostly failures. You two had already slept together, just one time and whenever it came to fooling around, you were so shy.

“This thing is worn,” he comments, looking over the novel in his hand, “How many times have you read it?”

“None of your beeswax,” you huff, “Give it here, Billy. Seriously!”

As you plead, you squirm under his grip, trying to get your arms free so you can rip the book from his hand and maybe destroy it. You haven’t decided, you’re so incredibly embarrassed but it is one of your favorites.

Billy tilts his head ever so slightly, “Should I read some of it to you?”

“No!” you shriek, eyes widening up at him but a part of you is very intrigued. Billy’s voice is like honey, the timbre of it is deliciously low like it comes deep from his throat. You’re suddenly very interested in hearing him read it out loud but you’re still full of shame that he’s found the book. Your hiding place wasn’t very good but enough that your parents or siblings hadn’t found it. Of course, Billy is far snoopier than they are and you should’ve anticipated that when you went to pee, he would be going through your things.

Billy places the book down and moves your wrists to your sides, adjusting his legs so he can pin your arms underneath them. He smiles at you, retrieving the book again and flipping to the first page he’s dog-eared.

“Ya know, there’s a lot of like, bullshit in this book,” he muses, “They don’t even fuck until like almost the end of the book. And then after that it’s like more blah blah blah—“

“It’s called plot,” you argue, voice shakier than you meant for.

The blonde snorts, peering down at you, “I can get you some magazines, ya know? You don’t have to do any reading to get to the good part.”

“I don’t read it for the…” you can’t bring yourself to say the word.

“The filth? Really?” he hums, “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” you lie, wriggling beneath him.

Billy licks his lips, “Let’s see… oh, here’s where it starts getting good; ‘His hand goes somewhere unexpected. Lydia’s eyes widen as the duke’s warm, strong hand smoothes up her milky, white thighs.’.”

“Billy,” you warn, eyebrows knitting closer. It’s as sexy as you imagined but you didn’t entirely anticipate Billy would be so good at reading aloud, it’s almost like he’s practiced with it. He doesn’t stumble over any of the words like you do when you have to read aloud in class.

“Shh,” he shushes you around a smug smirk, “‘Her liquid desire seeps out as he ruffles her petticoat up to her waistline,’ Liquid desire. I like that. Clever way to say she’s wet.”

“Stop!” you protest but the words are purging your own ‘liquid desire’ and you’d rather Billy not have the satisfaction.

“Spicy stuff here. But then the dude only fingers her,” Billy complains with a disappointed frown and flips to the second page he’s dog-eared. “Ah, here we go, I really love this line: ‘Lydia writhes against Arthur but her body freezes as she feels his hardened cock pressed against her stomach.’” He lets out a short laugh, “They actually wrote cock. That’s hilarious.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What word would you use?”

“Cock, definitely, but it’s not a classy word. I thought they’d say like penis or something,” he retorts, biting his lip as he looks to your flushed face.

“Penis isn’t a sexy word,” you argue and feel yourself squirm against him, not because you want him to stop but you want to keep him under the impression you do.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Billy agrees and then asks, “Cock turns you on, though?”

Billy’s sorely mistaken if he thinks you’ll admit to that, no matter how true it is. You shoot him an annoyed look and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He always does that so loud, you’re left impressed each time. You’d tried to do it as loud as he does on nights when you’re bored and alone but it’s never quite as good.

“Lemme see…” his eyes scan the worn pages, “Ooh, this I like: ‘She gyrated the softest part of her against the hardest of him.’”

You also liked that line, it made you think of Billy every time you read it.

“Also, do these chicks ever write about small dicks? They’ve mentioned how huge this duke is like twelve times,” he wonders aloud, lifting the book so he can look down at you.

“Sympathetic?” you bite back, wanting to tease Billy for how he’s teasing you.

“Oh, honey,” he chuckles, “you and I both know damn well I ain’t small.”

“Then they’re representing you,” you point out with a wavering smile.

Billy tsks, and then lets out a giggle, thumbing through the pages again. As he finds a particularly dirty passage and begins reading it, you can see his pants tightening over his crotch. You raise an eyebrow, flicking your eyes back up to his face but Billy is too distracted by the words he’s reading to notice.

“Well, well, well,” you say in a teasing tone.

He averts his eyes, seeing that his hard-on is pretty damn obvious in his jeans and you’ve got the perfect view of it. He actually blushes, the reddening hiding his freckles and he closes the book, tossing it behind him as he gazes down at you with his nose scrunched up.

“What?”

“You seem to like it, Billy,” you purr, not trying to suppress the giggle rising from your throat.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, scooting back and releasing your arms. They’ve kind of gone numb from the position under his legs but you don’t mind, you enjoyed every second of it. “If I reach in your pants, you’re gonna be just as obnoxiously turned on.”

“I’m the one who owns the book, Billy,” you challenge with a pleased smirk.

“So you admit it then, you read it for the filth,” he quips.

“I’ll admit that if you admit it gave you a boner.”

“I think that’s pretty obvious,” he mumbles, positioning himself between your legs and hooking his fingers into the elastic band of your sweats. He pulls them down and you lift your legs to help expel them. Billy tosses them to the floor and spreads your thighs, biting his lip as he brushes his knuckles against your clothed heat. A raspy moan is ripped from you, back arching as his knuckle brushes against your aching clit.

“Oh, Billy…”

“I can just see that ‘liquid desire’ soaking through your panties,” he muses, voice rough but the term brings a laugh from the both of you. It also makes you that much wetter.

“Oh my god,” you mutter through the laugh, “You’re never gonna let that go.”

Billy hums, pushing his nose against where his knuckles just were, “Don’t think you really want me to.” His breath tickles the skin where your thigh meets your pelvis and you inhale sharply. Your thighs tingle, heat rising up them and it’s almost overwhelming. Then you feel Billy’s stubble against the flesh of your thigh and his teeth follow, biting at your skin lightly. Your body jolts at the touch and your thighs open even wider, urging Billy to return his movements to where you want him most. His lips curl up as he rests his cheek against your inner thigh, eyes peering up at you. His pupils are so dilated, you can barely see the ocean blue around them.

“I want you,” he admits, smoothing his palm over your core and resting his fingertips against your pubic bone.

The admission draws a deep moan from you because he looks so adorable between your legs but the palm on you and the words make you desire him so deeply it almost hurts. Billy wants you. The idea itself makes your thighs tremble and your hands shoot down to rake your fingers through his dirty blonde curls.

“You have me,” you breathe but wonder how you look at his perspective and it forces you to prop yourself up on your elbows, wanting to look as pretty for him as possible.

“Can I have you?” he asks, pushing his palm harder against your center.

“Yes, Billy,” you pant out.

He sits back up, peeling your underwear off of you and then settling back down between your legs. He kisses tenderly at your thighs, brushing the tip of his finger against your dripping hole. The noise that pushes from your lips is desperate yet a thankful noise, you’ve been wanting Billy to touch you like this since he straddled you earlier. He makes a surprised but happy sound in return, swiping his tongue against your labia experimentally. The warm, wetness of it is welcomed while it’s not distinctly pleasurable, it feels really nice. His single digit penetrates you slowly while he continues to lick your pussy lips. It’s excruciating, but you know he’s doing it with purpose. The first time Billy had touched you intimately, he done the same. Teasing you with touches that were close to where you wanted but not quite there. You’d come to learn that Billy wanted you to plead and beg for him. Which you weren’t exactly confident doing yet. You still felt reserved and a little shame in asking for what you wanted. That’s presumably what got your boyfriend off: pushing you out of your comfort zone and breaking down those societal expectations.

“Billy,” you whine out, tugging at his curls.

“What?” he asks like he knows exactly what you want, a smile present in his voice.

You flush, you weren’t going to get the relief unless you explicitly requested it. You knew this and it makes your throat tighten and your mouth feel dry, tongue heavy in your mouth. You chew on your lower lip as you muster up the courage to put your desire into words.

“Not enough,” you whisper, timidly, “I want more.”

“More?” he pouts up at you, “Tell me what more means.”

“Lick…” you flush, closing your eyes as you try to gain the confidence.

“Lick what?”

“My pussy,” you breathe out, pulling his hair gently.

“I am,” he smirks, “You want me to lick here?” He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit and your head falls back against the mattress,

“Yes!”

He hums and then flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud, the fingers of his left hand digging into your thigh. It’s warm and oh so wonderful as he puts his mouth entirely on you, licking through your folds before focusing on your clit and lapping against it, nose brushing against the curls above your center. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. The two of you are completely alone for at least another few hours but you’re accustomed to keeping quiet, trying to keep your pants and moans of pleasure at a reasonable volume. Billy’s tongue proves to make it difficult. It’s just as fit as the rest of his body.

“Lemme,” he grunts as he pulls away, pushing your top up your chest and he exhales when your chest is exposed. You’d intentionally skipped putting your bra on today, knowing Billy was coming over. He palms at your breasts, squeezing gently as he moves up to suck hour nipple into his mouth. It feels amazing, not nearly as great as his mouth on your pussy but this is a little more intimate. You can see him better up here, how pink and plump his lips are and the way his eyelashes curl. Billy is single handedly the most attractive person you’ve laid eyes on and here he is, mouthing at your chest.

“Baby…” you whimper as he adds a second finger inside of you.

It’s all a little overwhelming but feels too damn good to stop. You’re in too deep, you’d follow Billy like a lamb to slaughter. As his fingers curl up and drag against your spongy spot, you cry out. You don’t know how much more you can take, suddenly desperate to feel his cock filling you up and stretching you out in the most beautiful way. It’ll be your second time of what you hope to be a life full of.

“Want—“ you gasp, grabbing onto his sleeve. “Want you so bad, Billy.”

He smirks up at you before sitting back on his heels. He pulls his Henley over his head and placing it next to your body. You reach out and feel the contours of his muscular pecs, brushing the pads of your fingertips against his stiff nipple. He’s like one of those Greek statues, sculpted beautifully but unlike the marble, his skin is so soft. He bites the side of his lower lip as he smiles, his eyes squinting with the expression. He’s so damn beautiful, your heart swells.

“You’re…” the compliment dies on your tongue as you suddenly feel demure.

“I’m what?” he breathes, anticipation present in his drawl.

“Everything,” you admit, bashfully.

You think you see him blush, you can’t be sure because Billy’s leaning down to kiss you. It’s a dizzying kiss, you rock your hips up with it as he pulls desire out of you. You meant it, he’s everything to you, everything for you. He’s it for you and if he’s not, there’s gonna be a helluva heartbreak. No one has been so easy to be around. Billy’s like your best friend, he makes you laugh and cry and cum. What the hell else do you ever need besides this man above you?

“Fuck,” he curses, hand on your shoulder as he pulls away, “My dicks so fucking hard it hurts.”

The complaint is nothing but a masked compliment. You widen your legs, moving your hands down to his hips so you can grind up against his clothed erection. “Need you,” you inform him breathlessly.

“You have me,” he smirks, smoothing his thumb against your cheekbone. “Can I fuck you?”

You know he asks because it’s only the second time it’s happening, or could be. You decided long ago that you wanted it, but he doesn’t know that.

“Need you to,” you counter, the walls breaking down slowly. Billy is good at urging the desperation out of you. You're sure he could persuade you into murder, or something nearly as awful.

Billy grunts, pulling away long enough to rid himself of his jeans and boxers. His cock sprouts up and slaps against his abs, angrily hard and you notice his tip is leaking more than you’ve seen before. Your mouth waters at the sight but you’re too eager to blow him. You’re clenching simply at the sight and promise of him burying his cock inside your fluttering cunt. Billy crashes his lips against yours, the shaft of his cock rubs against your soaking pussy and it draws a mutual groan from the two of you. Perhaps you can write a letter to the author of the novel, express your gratitude for it being the source of this very charged moment between you and your stunning boyfriend. You even consider writing your own spicy story about him, he’s damn good inspiration. If you ever write a memoir, you hope and pray that Billy is a lasting role in it.

“Billy,” you plead against his bruising lips.

He grabs your jaw with his left hand while he grabs a hold of his cock with his right, hissing as he runs his tip through your folds. Your body shakes under his touch, hips rocking up ruthlessly from the electricity his movements bring. The romance you read is exciting but can’t compare to his in any way. You’d much rather have him in your bed every night instead of reading until you can’t handle it and hump against your pillow in search of relief. This is tenfold better.

“That feel good?” he inquires, voice hoarse. “You’re so fucking wet.”

He says the last bit like he can’t believe it and you reel from it, reveling in the fact that you can turn Billy on just by reacting to him naturally. The carnal desire in you evaporates every wall you’ve ever built up. There’s no shame left in you as you tell him, “S’all cause of you…”

“Yeah? Am I better than the book?” he asks, circling his tip against the rim of your aching entrance.

“Picture you when I’m reading it,” you pant out the confession, eyes falling shut as his hips jerk forward from your words, his tip penetrating you in an easy, fluid motion.

“Touch yourself at the thought of me?” his voice is so hoarse and the sound of it has you clenching around him. He obviously notices it but the whine that pushes passed his lips.

“Always…”

“Fuck,” he exhales, slipping deeper inside your tight cunt. His girth is a shock, but a good one. It’s only the second time. Your fingers and also his, don’t compare. But you’re thoroughly aroused and you swallow his length easily. The burn is dull and adds to the pleasure. He continues, “That’s so fucking hot.”

His face in contorted in concentration and arousal, “The thought of you fingering this tight pussy—“ he grunts, “Thinking about me fucking you.”

“This is better,” you moan, grabbing onto his bicep as he bottoms out, balls warm against your skin.

“I think about you too,” he says between clenched teeth, “When I jerk off…”

It makes your head feel heavy, you’re totally honored. The image of Billy in his bed, pulling at his cock while your name tumbles from his lips makes your hips rock forward repeatedly. He makes a whiny noise and your eyes open, wanting to see it happen again. He’s a goddamn vision, sweating above you with curls sticking to his forehead. Goddamn, he’s so intoxicatingly sexy. Sometimes you get this overwhelming urge to grab onto his face and you indulge in it now, hands pressed against his each side of his head while he pounds into you. His eyes are intense as he stares back at you, these delicious little grunts and moans leaving his lips. The room is spinning, Billy’s eyes are so consuming it feels like he’s devouring you. You’re entranced, bodies writhing against each other while you both chase a high only the other can guarantee.

“Billy—“ you choke out, “I’m.. I’m gonna…”

You can’t finish the thought as he drills into you, his hands grabbing your hips and angling them up so he drives against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Cum?” he offers, voice throaty and hoarse. “You gonna cum for me, babygirl?”

“Ahh…” you try to tell him yes but the waves of the orgasm make it impossible as it thrashes through you, your ankles crossing behind his back as he pounds into you.

The pistons of his hips are unrelenting, you’d be impressed with his stamina if you weren’t being dragged through the most demanding orgasm you’ve ever had. You’re loud, the sound of your voice is foreign, rough and guttural. Billy seems to like it, his eyebrows rising before furrowing as he pins your hips against the mattress and bucks into you brutally. His face is scrunched up and these high pitched, pretty and desperate noises he makes are so wonderfully delicious. His movements freeze and you feel his warm completion fill you up.

“Billy…” you moan at the sensation, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt and he collapses on top of you, a panting mess as his lips find yours. The kisses are frantic and sloppy. You’re not even certain they could classify as kisses. Then his eyes are wide and he’s lifting himself up.

“Fuck, oh shit,” his voice is full of panic, “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”

You’re close to passing out, but you manage to ask, “For what?”

“I came inside you,” he explains, eyes wide.

“Mhm… felt so good,” you mumble, not able to care about his terror in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I didn’t mean to… fuck,” he breathes against your cheek, “Gonna have to.. get a plan B.”

“Billy,” you sigh happily as you wrap your arms around him, “Mmm… feels so good.”

He relaxes at the realization that you’re not pissed at him and for a second, he lets himself revels in the fact that he’s just cum inside you and how amazing it felt. He gasps softly, “So good…”

[goldberrg]

surely "bestfriends"

summary : You and Billy have been best friends for a while, but when he comes over unexpectedly.

TW's – cursing, sex (in details)

The end of your pencil tapped against the edge of your desk, the side of your head resting on your hand. Your leg bounced to the same rhythm as your pencil, while you listened to your teacher finish up telling you guys about a project. You were all reading "Pride and Prejudice", or at least had read it, and now needed to do the final project for it. You were aloud to work in groups of up to four, but you knew you'd only be working with one person – your best friend, Billy Hargrove.

Billy's step-mom, Susan, and your own mother were close friends. They worked together, and when you had been invited over for dinner the first week they moved to Hawkins, you and Billy had clicked. The two of you spent most of the night in his room, flipping through his vinyl's and helping him hang up his posters. You couldn't help but mock him about the clichè Playboy posters he had, and all the random crap in his room. But the two of you hit it off, becoming close friends quick.

And now he was your partner for every english assignment, art project, and science project. Those were the three classes you shared together. The first time you tried pairing up with someone other than him, a girl named Cheryl, he didn't speak to you for three whole days. Even when he drove you to and from school, he blared his music so loud your ears rang for hours afterwards.

Only after the project was over, and you showed up at his door with two tickets to see a movie.

Once your teacher had finished giving out her information and instructions, the class dispersed to get with their groups or partners. You leaned your head back, already finding Billy getting up from his seat behind you. He tossed his backpack onto the now-vacant desk beside yours, slamming his body into the chair with a grunt. This was your cue to get up and go get the poster board you would need for the project. You returned with a plain, white board compared to the other varying colors of purple, green, blue and red.

— Get your gross feet off the desk. — you ordered, glaring down at Billy since your hands were preoccupied. Billy rolled his eyes, but complied and removed his feet, the legs of the chair falling back onto the floor.

— Alright, doll, what's the plan? — Billy questioned, reaching into your backpack and pulling out your personal copy of the book. You'd already read the book various times throughout middle school and early high school, so you and Billy switched off borrowing your book.

— I figured I'd paint the board, sort of like a collage. Have different things on it. — you explained, looking down at him from the other side of the desk.

— Sounds good to me. We have two weeks, right? — he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

— Yup, so if you don't finish the book by then, I'll kick your fucking ass. — you hissed, watching as he paused his skimming through the book.

— What?

— There weren't any lions in the book, jerk. You have two days to finish it. You're three fourths done, because that's how much we've read together, so you can finish a hundred pages by Thursday. — you sighed, rolling your eyes.

You walked over and sat in your own chair.

— Yeah, yeah, alright Your Highness. — he grumbled, closing the book and tossing it on top of the poster. — What else? We're doing the whole 'main characters, theme, plot, climax' stuff, right?

— Of course that's the only word you'd remember. — you grinned, shoving his shoulder as he laughed. — The dramatic structure, yes. And all the other stuff. We'll split it up. — you said, putting the book away. — You're coming over after dropping Max off, right? — you asked, standing up.

— Yeah. Most likely around 4:00. — he said, standing up as well when the bell rang and slinging his bag over his shoulder. — Let's go, doll.

Once Billy dropped you off at home, you laid the poster board on your bed and your backpack by your desk. You decided to shower and change into comfy clothes before Billy came over, after all you had about an hour. So you grabbed a pair of skull pajama pants and a big shirt, before heading into the bathroom. You turned the water on high, stripping off your clothes from the day, leaving you in your underwear. Grabbing your moms essential rose oil, you dropped a couple drops into the shower before leaving it slightly unopened on the rack next to the shower. The smell would help relieve the tension of the day, and get you focused for schoolwork. Finally, you took off your bra and underwear, stepping in.

The hot water hit you in the face, and you welcomed it. Scrubbing your face, you made sure to get your mascara and concealer off so that when you got out you wouldn't look horrifying. You let the water travel to your hair, smoothing it down your shoulders. Steam filled up the bathroom, the smell of rose invading your senses.

The roaring of the water was so loud that you didn't hear your front door open or Billy shouting for you name.

Billy pulled up to your driveway, hopping out of his car and heading up to the front door. Max had been dropped off at Mike's, not Dustin's, so it was a lot closer than he thought. He decided not to stop at home afterwards, and just head straight to your place. So he got there around 3:20, rather than 4:00. Not that big of a deal.

Banging on the door, Billy waited a minute or two for you to answer. When you didn't, he tried again, but louder. After the third time, Billy just barged in, rolling his eyes at the fact it was unlocked.

— Hey! Y/N? — he called out, hearing the shower running. Kicking his shoes off by the door, Billy tossed his jacket onto the back of your couch. He didn't hear a response from you, so he headed towards the bathroom. Knocking on the door with his knuckles, he leaned against the frame.

— Come in! — Billy's eyes shot open, looking at the closed door in shock.

As you were putting shampoo into your hair, you heard a knock on the bathroom door. You looked over at it through the glass doors, thinking of who it could be. Your mom wouldn't be home until later, and an intruder wouldn't fucking knock. So you probably lost track of time, and it was Billy.

— Come in. — you called out, not minding if he did or not. The glass walls were textured and opaque so he wouldn't be able to see anything porn-worthy.

And the two of you had paraded around in front of each other with your underwear on before, it wasn't much different. There was a pause before the door creaked open, and the outline of Billy came in.

— Sorry I'm early, doll. — he said, his voice darker than normal. — It didn't take as long to drop Max off. And I figured I'd stop by right after to get a head start on the project, maybe hang out for a while. I didn't realize you'd be naked.

— It's fine. — you laughed, opening the door slightly so you could poke your head out. He was sitting on the sink counter, shirtless. Every other girl in Hawkins was wet for Billy Hargrove, how could they not be? And of course you fell into that category. But you couldn't express it like they could, even though you were closer to him than they were. A few times a week, you'd find your hand sneaking down your underwear, his name leaving your mouth as you writhed against your sheets.

— Don't take too long, alright? — Billy pleaded, when he looked up and saw you looking out of the shower. His cheeks were red, but you passed it off as the hot steam. — Why the hell does it smell like roses in here? There aren't any flowers. — he questioned suddenly, lifting his nose in the air and diverting his eyes away from your wet neck.

— It's my momma's rose oil. I use it to relax. — you said, a 'duh' tone to your voice as you closed the door. — And I'll take however damn long as I please.

— Course you will. — Billy grumbled, and you smirked to yourself. You washed away the shampoo as Billy fired off more questions. — Why do you need rose oil to relax? Doesn't that burning water help?

— Not entirely. It helps my muscles from being hunched over all day, and the steam helps with my nose. But the rose oil adds the extra flare. It's rejuvenating.

— Rejuvenating? The hell's that supposed to mean? — Billy ridiculed, hopping off the counter and moving closer to the door so he could hear you better over the shower.

— It's like... I don't know Billy! — you huffed, opening the door suddenly and popping your head out. You were startled when you came face-to-face with him, noticing the way his eyes darted down to your nearly exposed chest and back up. — It helps with headaches, my skin if I apply it directly onto it, and the smell is just nice. Don't you think? It's just fucking relaxing. Unlike you right now. It's amplified in the shower, so I apologize if you're not getting the full treatment. — you snapped, getting frustrated. Having Billy so close in an intimate setting was rough, especially when you couldn't touch. It was like a goddamn museum, you can look, drool and adore. But if you touch, you're getting arrested.

— I'm getting the full treatment just fine, baby. — Billy snickered, leaning closer to you as his eyes dragged up and down your hidden form. Your face heated up, and you shot your hand out, shoving his face back.

— Pff, yeah right, Hargrove. — you scoffed, closing the door and diving under the water. Your breathing was heavy and you tried to mellow it out by focusing on your conditioner.

— You still with that Caden guy? — Billy suddenly asked, his voice now on the other side of the doors, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

— No, I broke it off two weeks ago. Remember? He couldn't decide if he wanted me or Jenny more, even though he was fucking her the whole time.?— you laughed dryly, running the conditioner through your hair as you shook your head at the memory.

— Good. — Billy muttered, but you still caught it. — You could do so much better than him.

— Yeah? — you laughed, shaking your hair to even out the conditioner. — Like who, you?

— Exactly like me. — you stopped, and turned to the end of the doors. There was an audible zipping sound, causing your heart to speed up.

— That so? And what makes you think that, Billy? — you called out, biting your lip and turning to face the water again, washing out the conditioner, in hopes of calming yourself. Your heart hammered against your chest when you heard the shower doors open, as if it was about to leap out of your throat. You didn't turn around however, opting to close your eyes as the water hit your face.

— Cause. — he replied simply, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your eyes shot open as rough hands gripped at your hips, spinning you around. Your arms collided with Billy's chest, your head tilting up to look at him. His blond hair was beginning to stick to his face, and his blue eyes stuck out more than ever against the tiles. You weren't given anymore time to admire him, because his lips were on yours instantly. Both of you were swallowing water, your lips pushing against each other desperately. Billy walked the two of you backwards carefully, making sure you didn't slip, until your back hit the wall. You were now out of the harsh spray of the water, and you broke away to gasp for clear air.

— Are you.. — you attempted to ask, not wanting him to regret this, and have the friendship ruined.

— Yes, yes I'm sure, Y/N. — Billy said, not giving you the chance to finish. His hand reached up, pushing your wet, dark hair out of your face before leaning back down to capture you in another demanding kiss. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, tugging slightly when his hands gripped your waist tightly.

Billy moved his hands under your thighs and crouched, indicating you to jump, and you did. Your legs tightened around his waist for dear life, knowing that if either of you gave out it'd end in a naked hospital trip.

— Fuck. — you moaned out, breaking the kiss as his cock rubbed against your pussy, tilting your head back. Billy ducked his head, attaching his mouth to the center of your throat, biting the thin flesh before sucking it. You whimpered, moving your body up and down the slick wall slightly, giving the both of you more friction. His nails dug into your ass, pinning you to the wall so you couldn't move.

— Don't do that, princess. — he warned lowly, vibrating against your throat. You could feel the occasional pulse of his cock against you, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be in you. Whether it was your mouth or pussy, you didn't care. You just wanted it.

— Billy, please. — you whined, after having waited patiently for him to finishing sucking on your neck.

— What do you want, baby. — he growled, pulling back to look up at you. You didn't answer him, instead you held onto his shoulders tightly so you could unwrap your legs without death. Once your feet were safely on the ground, you flipped the two of you, so his back was against the wall and your back was facing the water. Giving him a smirk, you kissed the corner of his mouth before getting on your knees. Billy's tongue darted out, licking along his lips while looking down at you, his hand running through your wet hair. Grabbing his dick in your hand, you pulled at it a few times, twisting your hand along the base. Leaning down, you gave the tip a few kitten licks, gathering the pre-cum onto your tongue. Looking up at Billy, you waited until his eyes fluttered closed before taking the beginning of his dick into your mouth.

— Ugh, Y/N. — Billy grunted, his hold on your hair tightening. You smiled internally, licking the underside of his cock, and then left to right in order to ease your mouth farther down. It took a few minutes, but soon enough the tip had gone past your tonsils. Your eyes were watering, and saliva was dribbling out of the edges of your mouth. Billy's hips bucked against your mouth, his tight grip on your hair giving you a steady rhythm. Continuous moans streamed out of his mouth, and eventually you were roughly pulled off of his dick.

— Not yet, baby. — he said, more so to himself than you. You understood what he meant, and grinned in satisfaction. Putting his finger under your chin, Billy guided you to stand up. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Billy pulled you in for a slower, more passionate kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, relishing in the warmth of the water and his body. His free hand traveled down the small of your back, tickling you as he went, before gropping your ass.

— Billy.. — you gasped, your voice breathless. You grinded yourself against him again, growing impatient. You looked into his eyes, chewing on your bottom lip to keep in your needy whines. Billy simply smirked down at you, fully aware of what it was you wanted – no, needed.

— Hmm? — he hummed, a wicked grin on his face. You let out an impatient huff, ducking your head to harshly bite at his shoulder. Billy hissed out, the hold on your ass tightening before it released. You thought he was just gonna move you two, but instead he brought his hand down in a harsh slap.

— Ah, Fuck. — you cried out in shock, arching your back.

— Don't bite. — he warned, and then he finally pushed your body against the wall on the side, the cool tile instantly calming down your burning ass cheek.

— Then fuck me already, you jerk. — you snapped, running your thumb over the bite mark on his shoulder. Billy's eyebrow rose at your bold statement, and you simply grinned up at him. His fingers ran down your stomach, tracing at your curves and marks of imperfections. He kept eye contact with you as his middle and ring finger dipped between your folds, slowly dragging from your entrance to your clit. Your body jumped at finally being touched, a sigh leaving your mouth. His thumb rolled around your nub, your hips jerking occasionally, while his middle finger worked it's way inside you. A small grunt sounded in your throat, and you held onto Billy's shoulder, leaning your head against the wall. Once his middle finger was in to the knuckle, he pushed in his ring finger and began pumping them in and out of you, curling them.

— Ugh. — you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulder. Billy started kissing his way around your jaw, neck and chest, occasionally licking your nipple for fun. He added his forefinger after a minute, another moan escaping. You bit your lip, hard, holding in another whimper.

— Why are you being so quiet, princess? It's just us. — he mused, biting at your earlobe.

— I don't wanna boost your ego. — you snickered, yelping when his thumb pressed down on your clit and his fingers dug inside you even more.

— Yeah, well. — he laughed, shaking his head. — You can't hide the sounds you're making down here. — he snickered, slowly pulling his three fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. His tongue moved between his fingers, licking your juices and the shower water off of them. You watched, mesmerized.

Once his fingers were cleaned to his liking, he gripped the back of your thighs, having you jump up again. He gave you a nod, questioning if you were ready or not. You nodded yours quickly, having been ready for this for months. Aligning his cock with your entrance, Billy didn't have the ability to ease himself in because of your guys positions. So with one quick thrust, he was inside you, his hand splayed out against the wall and the other gripping your ass.

— Fuck. — you screamed, throwing your head back, crying out when it hit the wall. Billy was big, bigger than his three fingers. Your arms pulled him closer, trying to even out your breathing and relax your muscles around him. Billy didn't move, small moans being breathed into the crook of your neck.

— I'm sorry, doll. — he whispered, knowing it hurt. You didn't have lube or a condom, and not much preparation.

— No, no, don't apologize. — you said quickly, squeezing yourself around him to emphasize. — It's fine. You can.. you can start.

Billy removed his head to look at you, but when you gave him a nod he started moving. He thrusted slowly, not wanting to lose his grip on you or push your body. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you moved your body along his, matching his thrusts with your own.

— God. — he moaned, pulling his cock farther out before slamming back in, continuing the movement over and over again. Your nails scratched their way over his shoulder blades, biceps, back and anywhere they could reach. The pain was decreasing as the thrusting went on, and when Billy moved you slightly to the left, slamming back in, your eyes shot open.

— Holy fuck, right there, Billy! — you shouted out, arching yourself into him.

Billy smirked up at you, licking his bottom lip and doing as you said. He quickened his pace, no longer hearing your hisses of pain, and thrusted into you quickly. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, as well as the sound of your back hitting the wall, echoed throughout the bathroom, overpowering the shower.

— Ugh, god. — Billy grunted, throwing his head back. — I can't hold out much longer, Y/N. — he moaned, looking down at you just as you opened your eyes to look at him.

— I'm close too. — you whimpered, hiking yourself higher up on the wall, screaming out when his cock hit the spot again, but deeper. — Fuck, fuck, fuck. — you moaned, a streamline of curse words leaving your mouth. — Billy, I'm.. — you tried to warn him, but a high pitched moan escaped before you could finish as the heat in the bottom of your stomach exploded. A wave of warmth washed over you, your toes curling and your thighs squeezing around Billy, pulling him closer. You mouth fell open, letting out a small, quiet gasp as you orgasmed.

Billy pulled out quickly, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, and his hot cum sprayed over your stomach and the tops of your thighs. Your head fell to his shoulder limply, your body slipping down the shower wall, as it shook from your orgasm. You could see your thighs wiggling, and Billy gently lowered you to the floor. When the cold shower water hit you, you welcomed it, letting the cum wash off of you.

— Hey. — Billy whispered, his arms wrapping around you from behind. — This isn't a one time thing. I want you to be mine.

— Good. — you grinned, a giddy feeling coming over you, more intense than your orgasm. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. — Let's go take a nap, that project can wait until later.

[nameless-ken]

Fic Recs Masterlist Part 2 - Billy Hargrove

I've put together a list of Billy fics/imagines so they're easy to find! I'm so obsessed with all of these :)

Please let me know if I've tagged your story and want it removed.

Thank you to all the writers for providing such amazing words <3

FIC RECS PART 1

Imagines

Last Kiss - @billys-pretty-babe

Comic Book Store - @randomperson351 Part 2

late night talks - @fleshbarbie

You Never Shut Up about Steve - @prettybillycore

Saudade - @kingbabydollbilly

3 People - @billysbabyy

healing - @bookshelf-dust

Bad Boy Type - @writethrough

Freak - @wild-lavender-rose

Cigarette Daydreams - @madneedshelp

I would hit him in a heartbeat now - @luminnara

How Could You - @billys-pretty-babe

Movie Night - @hellfire--cult

Making Our Home @lillypad910 Part 2

Graduation Days @thephantomofthe-internet

Stripper!Billy from my Do I wanna Know Series @hellfire--cult *smut

L.o.v.e.l.e.s.s. generation @perpetuelledaydreaming

Connection @writethrough

Billy Hargove x reader fluff @luminnara

I'll Wait For You There @steph-speaks

When Life Gives You Lemons @steph-speaks

I Know @thephantomofthe-internet

Scarred Freak @chloe-skywalker

panic attack @steddielvr

My Best Friend’s Wedding @thephantomofthe-internet

Midnight at the Pick n’ Save @thephantomofthe-internet

Two Broken Souls @alissasrandomstuff

Series

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - (self plug @nameless-ken)

Stranger Than Fiction - @multi-fandomfuckboy

Believe - @sweet-villain Part 9 Part 10

Wicked Sensation - @sadhours

BASIC BIOLOGY - @billlydear

Bully - @sadhours

the leather jacket effect - @beetboxx

my kind of girl - @dilf-whore

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8

the hurt is good - @bookshelf-dust

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

18 @perpetuelledaydreaming Masterlist

I will continue to update this list! :)

[queers-gambit]

When The World Seems So Cruel

prompt: ( requested ) Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, smut 'cause why not, boys being assholes 'cause they're losers, misogyny, toxic / abusive / neglectful family, description of background violence, angst, did Cherry really write it if there wasn't a helluva lot of projection and need for revocation of internet access?

"Miss Cahill? I'm sorry to interrupt," you half-smiled at your math professor, "but I was just wondering if you still had my test? I never got mine back."

"Right," she cleared her throat, glancing around your body to see most of the class empty at that point. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she paused to pull out your test from a manilla folder. "I was very shocked to grade this under your name, honey, you're usually such a well-focused and high-achievin' student, I mean, you're on track for the Nat Scholarship! So, to see this... Was shockin', it's... Not your best work," she winced, handing the packet over.

You blinked in shock, frowning as anxiety mounted in your chest when you saw the glaring F in red marker. You mumbled in embarrassment, "I guess I've just been off my game..."

"Honey," Miss Cahill sighed in her light country accent, leaning on her desk with both fists so your eyes met hers, "I can always tell when one of my students is goin' through somethin' at home."

You froze, shaking your head, "No, no, it's not... It's not so bad."

"What's goin' on?"

You shrugged, "I've just been... Really tired," you decided on excusing, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't. Miss Cahill just sighed and offered, "I can let you retake the test next week - but only after you go see the guidance counselor."

"Right... Um, yeah, okay, yeah, sounds good; um, thanks, Miss Cahill."

You made an escape, distracted by the third failing test you received this week; nearly barreling straight into a meaty, solid chest. "Woah, hey, no need to run 'round lookin' for the man of your dreams, I'm right here, doll," Billy teased, hands grabbing your upper arms to steady you. "What's got you inna rush, baby? You know I pick you up after this class."

You smiled in brief distraction, "Yeah, sorry, baby, I was just thinking about this essay coming up. Hi," you offered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How're you?"

He half-smirked, "I'm good, you know Mr. Brunson's got a stick up his ass as usual."

"Mhm. As usual, and totally has nothing to do with you provoking him," you teased, latching onto his waist as you shoved your test deep in your shoulder-bag. You neared his locker, and you managed to choke out, "Hey, um... Y-You wanna get outta here?"

Billy offered you a look of mild confusion, smirking with a strange laugh, "You wanna ditch school?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm just tired," you offered meekly, "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Billy lead you up to his locker, hand on your waist to keep you close as he mused, "This feels like a setup."

"It's not, I promise."

He yanked the metal door open, "Uh-huh. You told me when I met you that I'd have to practically kidnap you to get you to skip class. Huh? 'Member all that? All them lectures you gave me 'bout the importance of goin' t'class if I wanna do anything after this shithole?"

"Yeah, but things change, Bee."

Billy's face dropped, shoving his books into his open locker before turning, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to his, arms crossed as he stared at you. "What's wrong?" He questioned sharply.

"Billy, I'm just tired."

"No, it's something else. What's wrong? What's goin' on?"

You sighed, "You know what? It's okay, nevermind, I actually promised Eddie that I'd help him make those banners for SGA during lunch today, so," you glanced around, "I'm gonna go."

"Nah, baby, hol' up, I ain't mean - "

"I know, handsome," you promised softly, nodding as you reached for his waist to give a squeeze and keep him close. "I just forgot I told a friend I'd help them out, so, I'll just see you after, yeah?"

One hand rose to pet over your cheek, sighing, "You sure you're good? You don't look okay, sugar."

"I'm good," you nodded, deflating into his embrace and hearing him chuckle. "I'm just stretched thin this week, probably shouldn't make promises to my delinquent friends with all the college drama to worry about."

"What'd Munson do this time to only get banner-duty? Huh?"

"Probably got caught skipping or something," you mumbled against his pectoral; inhaling the scent of his mall-bought cologne and finding it a refreshing change from the CVS-brand he used when you first met. "School did something right by makin' everyone in detention serve the SGA for all their shit."

"Definitely got me to shape up," he joked, pecking the top of your head before finishing, "but I mostly missed out on time with you."

"Hey... I was thinking, maybe I can come over this weekend? Keep Max company, maybe keep Neil at bay? Can have a sleepover, too, if you want."

Now Billy's head cocked and his expression hardened, "The fuck you wanna come over for? You know how tense shit gets - "

"Billy."

"Nah, you're not makin' sense, pretty girl," he snapped, pulling back to stare down at you. "What's going on with you? You don't wanna be at home or something? The fuck's goin' on that's so bad you'd rather be at my place?"

You felt tongue tied, but the bell rang shrilly and literally saved you from needing to answer. "Shit, I gotta run, baby. I'll find you later, okay?" You promised, lifting onto your toes to kiss him, promising, "I love you."

He frowned, grumbling, "Yeah, love you, too." He watched you vacate the hall, his mind basically going blank to all other thought beside you. The entire lunch period, he sat on the hood of his car, chain smoking, wondering where he went wrong; what he did to upset you; what could be going on and most importantly, why you couldn't say anything to him about it.

However, after lunch, Billy found you in the library's designated SGA room and thought you appeared ten times as relaxed, laughing with Eddie Munson. When the punk caught Billy's eye, he nodded in respect; gesturing for you to look, and your head turned with a smile. You parted from Eddie and trotted up to Billy, feeling relieved when he grabbed you in a possessive hold; searing his lips to yours.

"Hi," you giggled.

"You seem happy."

"Kinda hard to be in a bad mood around Eddie."

"I can see," he lead you away. He wanted to bring back up about whatever was bothering you, but didn't; fearing ruining your joyful mood. Instead, his fingers just tangled with yours and you entered history together.

What should've been a decently peaceful class turned into a state of confusion for you and Billy when the intercom kicked on, the front office asking for your presence with the principal. Billy glared at the speaker box as you cast him a look of doubt, both confused by the summons; being all too used to them calling his name instead. All of history passed miserably; Billy alone without his favorite person to keep him on track and becoming antsy the longer you were gone. When you didn't return by the end of class, he grabbed anything you left and begrudgingly went to the last two classes of the day.

When the final bell rang, Billy waited for you at his car for a solid 25 minutes with several cigarettes being burned, but when you still didn't show, he grew worried. So, he stored everything in his Camaro, not needing to worry about his sister because Max got a ride home with her new bestie, Jane, and her father, Jim Hopper, and stormed through the school. Anger radiated off his very being, nearly stomping his steps, and just before he got to the front lobby, he saw you exiting the office.

You didn't notice him at first, and for a moment, Billy thought you were going to hurl whatever was on your stomach as you held a few pieces of paper in shaking hands. "Baby," he called your attention, finding your eyes light up at the sight of him. "The hell's goin' on? You were gone the rest of the day, I got worried."

"Yeah, it was some shit wrong with my college applications, but we got it straightened out," you lied, stepping into his embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you, handsome."

He met your lips in a kiss, promising, "Not your fault. C'mon, day's over, our weekend can start once we get the hell outta here."

"Hmm," you hummed dreamily. "Lemme go to my locker and we can get gone."

Billy didn't mind waiting, and when you were done at your locker, he escorted you to his car; only a few students still lingering after hours. He opened your passenger door, winking at you, then quickly jogged to his side and slid in. "C'mere," he breathed, reaching for your cheek instantly; hand sliding along the back of your neck and bringing you in close.

You moaned when Billy's lips molded to yours; all but instantly salivating when his tongue tangled with your own in a messy dance. You had a few rules about PDA, especially in school; but being in his car was neural territory and Billy needed a way to expel his neediness. Praising God for making today steadily warm and that you wore a skirt, you were ready to cry when Billy's hand came down to grip the meat of your thigh.

"Billy," you rushed when his hand traveled under your skirt to ghost over your panties.

"Nobody's here t'watch," he smirked. "C'mon, lemme do this for you, pretty girl. You don't wanna go home yet, right? Ain't got some curfew?"

"Nope," you surged forward to slam your lips to his, moaning when his hand now confidently pet your panties as your legs spread all the wider to encourage him.

"Good girl," he praised quickly, skimming the apex of your thigh to hook your panties and pull them to the side. "Mhm," he hummed with a cocky smirk, "I knew you liked getting fucked in public. Feel how fuckin' wet you are - shit, Goddamn."

You mewled; tension mounting as you tightened up from the stoking pleasure. "Billy - " You gasped when he plunged his fingers into your cunt, easily sliding in due to your arousal. "Ohhh, fuck," you breathed, eyes shut and mouth agape in pleasure, "needed this - needed this so bad. Just needed you."

"You'll get so much more, baby."

You whimpered, "Now, please. Please, please, please."

He smirked, "Wanna get in the back or ride me, princess? Huh? Tell me what you need."

Your eyes locked with his as you thought it over, but then, you smirked as you readjust the passenger seat and turned so your ass was propped up. It gave him a full view of your messy cunt; panties askew from his previous motions and fluid rubbed all around. Billy reached out with one hand to plunge his pointer and middle finger back into your core, the other wrangling open his belt, button, and jean zipper in frantic movements.

He shimmied from the garments and sat up, following your lead in adjusting his seat. He instantly mounted behind you over the center console, licking his palm and stroking his himself to life as he drug his cockhead up and down your wetness.

Billy reached out to move your panties once more, line himself up, and plunge full-hilt. You gasped and grunted, letting yourself be shoved forward a little to catch on the seat; Billy hissing between his teeth as your warmth enveloped him in a sticky-wetness. "Hang on, doll, ah, fuck, there we go," he chuckled, readjusting his position before starting to move his hips to create the most delicious friction.

"Fuuuuck, Billy!" You whined when he held both your hips with only one hand keeping your panties to the side.

"Needed this, too," he chuckled. "Good girl, fuckin' taking me so well. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Fuck you however I want to, huh? Yeah," he lifted one hand to smack the meat of your bottom, creating a ripple; liking the way you twitched and delivered two more, finishing, "I know my pretty baby would let me do whatever I fucking wanted with her - " he clenched his teeth, hips punctuating his words, "'cause she was fuckin' made for me."

"Yes," you moaned, mind blank from all the previous drama of your day; ready to weep like a bitch in heat, "anything, baby, yes, yes, yes, anything you want."

"Good girl," he laughed ruefully; picking up the pace to fuck you outta your mind as he ensured you felt every throbbing vein of his engorged cock. He chased his own orgasm as you were charged with your own; hand reaching for your clit to start applying pressure in tight circles. "Let me cum in you, sweetheart. C'mon, baby, tell me I can cum in you - in this pretty pussy - in my pretty pussy - lemme fuckin' cum in you."

"Billy, fuck - yes, baby, yes! Yes, harder, please, fuck me harder and you can cum wherever you want."

"Even your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes, anything you want! Fuck my ass full of your cum, please, fuck, I need it! Whatever you want, I need. Please!"

Billy's golden curls stuck to his forehead and neck, entire car rocking with frantic, animalistic movements - but anyone lingering around the school to see it wasn't surprised. Billy felt like he went faster than usual, that he got a little rougher; but he was nearing his end and it was hard to keep pace. When you cried out and legs shook from your flash-bang of an orgasm, he knew you had finished and could focus on his own; never pulling out.

He'd fuck your ass later.

"Fuck!" Billy came with a shout; shooting hot, salty, opaque white ropes of cum into your quivering cunt. He stuttered his hips into the meat of your ass, balls contracting; emptying himself inside you as you relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding your lower belly. He chuckled, mocking, "Might just have to get you off that pill so I can get you fucking pregnant already."

"Whatever Daddy wants."

Billy laughed as he pulled out of you slowly, instantly turning again to crash into his driver seat. You went a little limp but managed to turn over, both panting as the windows were fogged up; but aired out when Billy rolled two down to light up his cigarette. "So," he spoke through his inhale and deep breaths, "you wanna tell me whats wrong now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why're you so distracted? Distant? Even with me?"

You felt panicked by the confrontation, resorting to your last line of defense. "Just dealing with a lot," you answered as your legs spread as wide as you could to start toying with your beaten-pussy. He watched with a stoic expression as you used your fingers to stuff his dripping-cum back inside you. "'S been stressful, guess I just had a bad day," you whined lightly, still playing.

"Fuck's sake."

"Hmm?" You feigned innocence.

"You're just askin' for it, huh?"

"Maybe," you pouted, "or maybe I just need your cum - "

"Cut it out, we gotta go," he snickered, turning the key in the ignition. "Your dad hates me enough, can't have you late for family dinner."

You went quiet as your thoughts were plagued with a screaming voice that begged Billy to just read your mind and understand what was wrong - why you were so upset, so panicked. But you knew better. So, you flipped down your skirt and readjusted yourself, sucking your fingers of his cum before letting his hand tangle with one of yours on your lap.

"Maybe you'd wanna come over tonight?" You asked softly. "Go see a movie or something?"

"You never wanna go out on Friday nights," he chuckled, but something felt terribly wrong about the notion. "You do homework and study on Friday and Sunday nights, you said it was a relationship rule, huh?"

"Things can change," you pouted.

"I told Tommy and Ryan I'd hang with them and the guys tonight," Billy spoke slowly. "But I can cancel if you - "

"No, no, don't," you shook your head, "go see your friends. 'Cause I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"And I can stay the night... Right?"

Billy nodded, "Anytime you want, baby, yeah."

"Okay, cool," you spoke softly, deflating in his seat when he pulled up to your house. "Um..." You stared up at the home as if it were haunted. "Do you wanna come in for a little?"

His head tilted and brows furrowed, "I have to pick up Max from Hopper's, remember?"

"Right!" You gaped, but didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked with a hardened tone, making you gulp lightly. "You don't wanna go in?"

"I could, like, just go with you?"

"Baby, the fuck's going on? Know I hate repeating myself and shit, so just fucking tell me - maybe I can fucking help."

"Nothing, no, it's just, it's nothing, I'm sorry, I just - I'm sorry," you chuckled. "Guess I'm PMSing and feel clingy or something."

He only hummed as you leaned over to kiss him in parting. Both promised you love each other before you got out, jogging up the driveway and opening the front door; pausing to wave at him and then disappear in the house.

"Yo, dickhead! Hey! Grab me a beer!" Tommy Hagan called to Ryan Sheen as he went to rummage in his uncle's basement fridge. "And grab Billy one, too!"

"Nah, I'm good," Billy refused, glancing at the can in his hand. It was still half-full. He didn't feel like drinking after having time to sit and think about your behavior the past few days, worrying about you more than he wanted to get drunk.

"What?" Tommy laughed obnoxiously, smacking his teeth after. "You don't want a second? What's wrong with you, got some test you gotta study for?" He laughed at his own joke. In Tommy H.'s mind, only fucking losers study on Friday nights.

"Nah," Billy eased, setting his can down as he felt his irritation flare. He was annoyed at Tommy, sure, but also by the idea that something was wrong with you and you didn't trust him enough to say anything. "I actually gotta go, you guys," Billy stood.

"What?" Now Ryan scoffed, slapping a can of beer to Tommy's open hand. "You're not serious, dude! We've only been here, fuckin' what? Half an hour, bro!" He sucked his teeth in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "C'mon, we were going to Alicia's pool party tonight - you're supposed to give us a ride! The fuck's more important than the slutty cheerleaders in bikinis?"

"That Maria chick's been all over you, too," Tommy laughed. "You can't tell us a single thing that's better than Maria Thomas, all soaped up, in that tiny bikini she wore for the car wash. It's all our wet dreams come to life, Billy, you can't seriously consider missing that!"

"Not everybody's desperate to see Maria's tit-job. You know what? Whatever, man, I gotta go see my girl," he tugged his jean jacket on, tugging his blonde curls out of the collar.

Ryan rolled his eyes as Tommy laughed, "No way. Nuh-uh. You're seriously going to fuckin' ditchin' us for that chick?"

"Man, fuck you, guys, I'm ditching your dumbasses for my girl," Billy snapped. "Better what your fucking mouths and how you talk about her."

"Whatever, man. You're just whipped."

"She got you on some leash or some shit? Got you on a curfew like she's your mommy?" Ryan rolled his eyes, groaning, "Seriously, dude, we only see you at practice now!"

"Look, I just know something's up with her, so, I gotta check on - "

"So, what!? She ain't even tell you why she's pissed off? C'mon, man, that is such a stupid fuckin' tactic chicks use to get guys to go crawling back to their spoiled asses! Bitches do the pettiest shit to get us to suck up to them and shit."

Billy turned and easily caught Tommy by the collar of his shirt before he could even let go of his beer can, slamming the loudmouth into the wall as the aluminum can clattered. Ryan and the two other irrelevant guys left in the basement could only freeze, knowing Billy Hargrove's aggression and not wanting to become part of the receiving end.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," Billy seethed.

"Fuck offuva me!" Ryan pushed Billy's arms off. "She's just some bitch, bro, you've already fucked most of the school - what's so different with her?"

Billy scoffed, nodding in amusement as he backed off a few steps. "You know? If I wanna go hang with my girl instead of you deadbeat dickheads, 's exactly what I'm gonna do. Not my fault y'all ain't shit and don't know what it means to keep a chick happy."

"Fuck off, Billy! You're so fucking pussy whipped!" Tommy barked. "Ditching us for that crybaby! Dude, it's not even real! She didn't even tell you whatever she's all upset about! You just had a feeling, so, just sit the fuck down, finish your drink, down a fuckin' second beer, and then let's go to the party! See some bitches that are actually worth seeing!"

Billy shook his head, "I ever hear y'all talkin' about my girl like this again," he chuckled dryly, "might be the last time y'all can even form words. Fuck yourselves," he sneered.

Billy didn't hesitate to storm out of the room, ignoring their jeers and sneers about him being "pussy whipped" and all their complaints about him skipping out on being their ride to "the hottest party of the year." The door slammed behind him, rattling a few windows; making a beeline for his Camaro and pausing at the trunk. He found a pair of your sports shoes you'd eventually need, grabbed them in a white-knuckle grip, then got in the driver's seat and peeled away.

When Billy got to your house, he noticed the lights in your bedroom were barely turned on; knowing you didn't like overhead lighting and probably had a string of lights plugged in. On the contrary, the rest of the house seemed wide awake - every single downstairs light turned on. He grabbed your shoes and his school books (left in his backseat) and got out of his parked car, approach the front door, and paused when a barrage of voices suddenly met his ears. He froze.

The screams were full of hate, and while he couldn't make out distinct words, he heard both your mother and father's elevated voices. It was relentless, it was full of anger and hate and confusion and accusations and Billy wasn't sure how long he stood there with his fist raised. With a deep breath, Billy finally knocked at the door... Then again... Then again... And again, using the metal knocker to bang rapidly. He heard the voices lower and stopped knocking; taking a step back, then waited with his best look of indifferent innocence.

When the door ripped open, Billy was greeted by your angry-looking mother, who didn't look at who was at the door when she snarled, "What the fuck do you want!?"

"Uh, yeah, um, hi, ma'am..." Billy waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Billy," she gasped. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you, sweetie. What's wrong? What - What time - ? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but nothing is wrong," he assured. "I just know your daughter's a little forgetful when there's a test comin' up," he chuckled, holding up the shoes and his books, "and she promised to help me nail this essay for my college portfolio... Did I use that correctly? Portfolio? She's always tryna broaden my vocabulary," he chuckled smoothly.

She smiled warmly, another victim to his charming influence, "Sure, honey, yes, of course, it's Friday or something, right, of course you can come in. C'mon, c'mon in." She stepped out the way to let Billy enter into the foyer. "Baby Girl's just upstairs in her room," she gestured with a wine glass Billy just noticed towards the staircase as she used your childhood nickname. They paused at the grand bannister, her eyes rolling when there came the muffled pounding of a bass-line from some song turned up to the max. "She's always blasting her music now adays, it'll make her deaf," your mother scoffed, taking a long sip, then waved him up. "Go on, get up there, good luck on your essay."

"Thank you, Miss Lady," he purred with a small smirk; nodding as he then watched her retreat to the sitting room, and barely a moment later, your father was exiting the kitchen.

"Billy," he greeted stiffly, glass of scotch in hand.

"Sir," Billy replied with a nod of respect, stepping out of his shoes (per household rules) to leave your parents at the front of the house's sitting room; beginning his ascent to the second level. He'd been there before, so, locating your room was like muscle memory; knocking when he approached the door and pausing when he only heard blaring music.

Another knock, no answer. So Billy opened your door.

You were sat on the ground, back against your bed, record player spinning, and the window you faced cracked open to waft the cigarette smoke out. His heart clenched when he saw you, your sadness nearly tangible as light made your tear-tracks on your cheeks glitter. "Baby," Billy spoke softly, watching you jump in shock. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I tried to knock."

You nodded absently, "Music's on."

"Yeah, 's a good song," he allotted as he shut your door securely and asked, "want it locked?"

"Doesn't lock," you answered robotically, looking back out the window.

"Can I turn the music down, baby, please? Real hard t'hear you."

You nodded and he lowered the volume - but when he did, he understood why you had it so high. Your parents could be heard arguing downstairs, and even with an entire floor between you, it was still loud. So, he turned the music up just a little, frowned, and moved beside you, grunting lightly as his tight jeans constricted while he sat.

"Can I?" He asked, pointing at the cigarette. You handed it over mutely, your usual quip of "it's may I, not can I," nowhere to be heard. After two puffs, he meant to hand it back, but instead, you just fell into his side as if all energy you had to keep you up was depleted; a nearly drowned-out whimper emitting. Billy saw the coffee mug you had been using as an ashtray and dropped the cigarette instantly, using both arms to tug you into his lap.

Billy held you in a fetal position, gently and slowly squeezing you into his chest as he needed to feel you close; and you evidently needed to feel physical love. Billy had to gulp harshly when he felt your tears soak his shirt first, then the jerking of your shoulders; quivering of your body. This long week had finally caught up.

"Baby," he sighed, kissing your forehead. And instead of asking the idiotic and repetitive 'are you okay?', Billy instead just asked in a hush, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Through your tears, you answered in a hiccuping-hush, "I didn't want it to be real."

Billy just sighed again, pulling you in tighter so you set under his chin. He let you simply rest, he just wanted to feel close to you... But something caught his eye. About three feet from you was your slumped, turned-over backpack; spewing contents as if it had been tossed aside in a fit of rage. What was interesting, though, was the crumpled pieces of paper; at least one sporting a huge, uppercase F circled in red marker.

"Yeah?" He whispered, sighing as he wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't. "Seems real enough to fuck up your grades though, huh?"

"I can retake the tests."

"You're gonna have to study."

"I know... 'S kinda hard to study here, though. Can't really focus on anything when all that's, you know, going on."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You snorted through your tears, "Don't make me laugh, I'm sad."

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Listen, I'll just... We'll go to the library for tonight, and after, we can go to my place. How's that?"

"Thought you weren't allowed overnight visitors?"

"I'm not, but sneakin' inna my place can't be worse than tryna focus while here, right? Gotta be better than listening to this shit."

You nodded against his neck as a distant glass shattered, making you relent, "Touché."

"C'mon," he decided, kissing your forehead again, "pack a bag, baby. You're comin' with me - don't gotta stay here. Not tonight. Gonna come stay with me."

You pulled back just enough to ask, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty girl," he smirked, caressing your cheek. "Might even let you do that green face goop thing you love bothering me about."

"It's an avocado face mask, and when your skin is literally glowing, you can thank me then."

Billy grinned down at you, taking the moment to swoop down and connect your lips in a long kiss; breathing each other in. When a second shatter sounded from downstairs, you flinched away, but Billy was quick to hush, "Hey, hey, hey," and when your eyes met his, he assured, "you're safe with me. Always safe with me." You nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "And you don't ever have to hide these parts of you - not from me. Never from me. I love you, pretty girl," he whispered, "and all parts that make you exactly who you are. Family included."

"I don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Nah, what you don't deserve is dealing with this shit. So, c'mon, get a bag together. We'll come back for what you need later, but get something together for the weekend."

You thanked him with a kiss, and while you got your things together, Billy mutely reached out to examine the pages in his grasp. He sighed, noting the three different failing tests and knew he had to "step up" his "boyfriend game" if he truly wanted to help you; and for the first time, he knew, without any selfish motives, he honestly did. He figured, for all you've done for him, providing you with something akin to a safe environment was a drop in the bucket; shoving those tests back into your school bag, standing, and helping you gather the last of your necessities.

Who needed slutty cheerleaders in soaped-up bikinis when this, right here, was what true love was? Shockingly, not Billy Hargrove.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[bookshelf-dust]

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?” 

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make. 

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes. 

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————

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