#billy hargrove hurt comfort

[wild-lavender-rose]

Freak

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

Category: Hurt Comfort

Summary: When Billy saves you from your abusive ex, you slowly realize that he is much more than the arrogant bully you first took him to be. 

Warning: toxic relationship, physical and verbal abuse sequence (if this bothers you at all please scroll on), sexual abuse insinuation, description of injuries, cannon typical swearing 

“Hey, angel.”  

    You jumped as Billy banged his shoulder against the locker next to you, looking up from where you had been twisting in your code sequence.  

    “They tell me you’re best friends with the king,” he crossed his bare arms and looked you up and down. “May he rest in peace.”  

    “He’s still king,” you gave him a look before returning your attention to your locker. “Steve’s just had a change of priorities.” 

      “Yeah, a ball and chain’ll do that.” Billy smirked.  

    “They say you’re gunning to take his place.”  

    “Actually I’m going for the title of god.” Billy leaned closer, his voice lowering. “Most of the girls already call me that anyway. Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”  

    “You mean most of the cows?” You opened your locker door so fast he barely had enough time to pull away before it smashed into his face. “Word travels fast, Mr. Tight Pants. I know who you’ve been fooling around with.” You began to absently paw through your locker. “Get the opinion of someone who actually has standards, then we’ll talk.”  

    “Yeah well, they say that you could be queen of the school if you weren’t such a freak.” Billy scoffed, waiting for you to respond, continuing at your silence. “Must be hard, wanting to get with Steve and him going off with a little miss prim and proper which you clearly can never be.”  

    “Get lost, Billy.” You breathed, gaze fixed on your locker.  

    “But getting under your skin is just so damn fun, baby. Are you Stevie’s little guard dog, defending his title? The king is dead,”  

    “Get away from me, I mean it!” You slammed the locker door so hard it banged shut and flew back open.  

   Billy caught it, brow furrowing. “Did I strike a nerve or something?”  

    You didn’t respond, fists clenching as you looked back at your locker. Billy followed your gaze, taking in the thing that had made you so upset. There, half-hidden among your books and jacket, was a piece of torn notebook paper. On it, scrawled in pencil, were the words ‘Tonight at nine’.  

    “Well, well, well,” Billy looked between you and the note. “You’re freakier than I thought.”  

    “Shit,” you grabbed your books and closed the locker, making sure it clicked into place this time.  

    “Hey, hold up,” Billy grabbed your arm before you walked away. “Are you bein’ blackmailed or somethin’?”  

    “And here I thought you were stupid.” You jerked away from him. “Leave me alone, idiot.”  

    Strangely, Billy obeyed, staring after you as you hurried to your next class.  

                                                      # # # # #  

    “Let me go, Brandon, let go!” You squirmed and thrashed, desperate to get out of his hold. “I’m sick of this, I want out!”  

    “Aww, you’re so cute when you play hard to get.” Brandon released you, smirking as you fell to the ground. “Why’d you come if you don’t want it, baby?”  

    “I came to tell you I’m done, Brandon.” The leaves crunched under your hands as you tried to crawl backwards, never taking your eyes off him. “I’m done with the drinking, done with the parties, done with you!”  

    “Turning soft just like Steve, aren’t ya?” Brandon grabbed you by the front of your shirt and yanked you back up, grinning when the fabric ripped under his grip. “Too bad he’s not here, baby. Maybe he’d get some lessons on how to handle a girl like you.”  

    You gave a muffled cry as he smacked your face and jerked you around so that your back was pressed up against his chest. “We’re done, Brandon,” you clawed at his grip on your hips. “We’re done,”  

    “You’ll be screaming for me to keep you in a second.” Brandon pushed your hair aside and bit your neck, hard.  

    Your cries echoed through the woods, fighting to run in a place you had once met Brandon in for fun. It was dark and too cold for hunters to be out. No chance for anyone to hear you. Before this had been the reason you had chosen such a private spot in the woods. Now it was nothing but the biggest mistake in your life.  

    “Taste so good,” Brandon took a hand off your hip to wrap around your neck.  

    You took your chance, twisting around and punching him in the face.  

   “Shit!” Brandon released you and stumbled back with a hand to his nose.  

   You broke into a run, heart pounding in your ears louder than Brandon’s yelling. You headed for the road, dodging trees and jumping over roots and rocks. Just get to the road and find the car, you told yourself, forcing your panicked thoughts to focus even as you ran at breakneck speed. Get to the car, get to the car, get to the car.  

   You burst out onto the road and fell, knees throbbing painfully as you scraped yourself up from the gravel. This wasn’t where you had parked the car. Brandon was close behind, you could hear him crashing through the trees. The moon was bright but not bright enough. You looked around, trying to figure out which way to go. A car sounded in the distance, coming fast. You started towards the sound, only to scream as Brandon grabbed you from behind.  

    “I’m gonna kill you!” He whipped you around to face him and grabbed your hair, slapping you hard. “You broke my nose, you little freak! You’re dead!”  

   “Brandon, stop!” You raised your hands up, shielding yourself from his blows.  

    Car headlights shown on you both, causing Brandon to release you instantly. You stumbled away as the car you had heard in the distance now screeched to a stop in front of you both, headlights staying on as the driver stepped out and slammed the door behind him. “What the hell are you two doing?”  

    Your beating heart twisted into your stomach. It was Billy, his tall figure monstrous in the light of his car. Before you could think you were limping towards him, pretending that it wasn’t a bad idea, knowing that you had no other choice. You could see his face in the headlights, see his eyes slowly take you in. Your face was bleeding. Your clothes were ripped and covered in dirt and blood. Tears blurred your vision. Your body trembled.  

    Billy’s expression softened with surprise and something you hadn’t seen before. Something like pain. Then it hardened and he was pushing you behind him as he stepped between you and Brandon. “The hell did you do to her?”  

    “You know how it is, Bill.” Brandon shrugged as if his nose wasn’t dripping blood. “Dumb cows need training.”  

    “Well she’s mine now, so get lost.” Billy looked over his shoulder at you. “Get in the car.”  

   You blinked at him for a second but obeyed, looking at Brandon as you limped over to the passenger’s side and got in.  

    “That’s my girlfriend, Billy, you can’t just take her!”  

    “I can take whatever the hell I want, and you’re gonna stay out of my way!” Billy growled before turning away.  

    You watched as he slid back behind the wheel. “You’re gonna run him over.” You weren’t sure if it was a question or a statement.  

    “Damn right I will.” Billy gunned the engine and slammed down on the gas, giving a war whoop as Brandon just barely jumped out of the way.  

    You shivered and scrunched down in the seat, thoughts spinning so fast it made your head hurt. You were in Billy Hargrove’s car. This should not make you feel as safe as it did. Where was he taking you? Why had he been driving out in the middle of nowhere to begin with? Why was he alone? You pressed a hand to your head and made a small noise, looking to see your fingers covered in blood illuminated by the moonlight.  

    “Are you all right?” Billy’s voice sounded rusty, as if he was unused to asking such things. “Let me see.”  

    You tensed as he touched your chin, allowing him to shift your head so he could look you over.  

    “Jesus, he did a number on you.” Billy’s thumb brushed over your cheek before he pulled away, gaze flicking between you and the road. “I’m gonna kill him.”  

    “Not worth it.” You rubbed your hands together and shivered again. “But if anyone could get away with it, it’s you.”  

    Billy smirked at that, reaching over to crank up the heat and shift the vents towards you.  

    You looked at him, taking in his slicked back hair, his unbuttoned shirt, the smell of expensive cologne. “You’re going on a date.”  

    “Not anymore.” He glanced over at you. “We gotta get you cleaned up.”  

                                                 # # # # #  

    “Come on,” Billy opened the hotel door and flipped on the light, stepping back so you could walk inside. “You’re all right, I promise.”  

    “You want me out when your date shows up?” You regarded the double bed before looking up at him.  

    “I’m gonna call her and tell her to beat it.” Billy shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair. “You wanna shower or somethin’ while I go get the med kit? Maybe get something to eat, there’s a diner right down the-,”  

    “I’m not sleeping with you, Billy.” You hated the tremble in your voice as you said it, knowing full well that you were too weak to resist should he make a move.  

    “Eww, gross.” Billy grimaced. “And you say I’m the one with low standards? You’re not doing anything you don’t want to ever again, not with me or anyone else.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Now go shower.” 

    “What if I don’t want to?” You asked, giving him a look.  

    “That doesn’t apply to self-care shit.” Billy pulled his keys out of his pocket and left, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.  

                                                    # # # # #

    The shower felt amazing. You kept making it hotter, hot enough to wash the dirt away, hot enough to burn the open wounds. So hot that you couldn’t think about the way Brandon grabbed you and pushed his body into yours. About the fact that you had been stupid enough to meet him in the first place. You hated him so much.  

    “I put some soap on the ledge.” Billy’s voice caused you to jump.  

    You peeked out around the shower curtain to see him close the door behind him, giving you the privacy you needed. Accepting the bottle, you couldn’t help but smirk as you realized it was Billy’s personal soap. Of course he would have soap, and everything else needed for a sexy overnight. The silky suds filled the room with a warm, fresh, musky scent. You slipped your hands over your skin, enveloping yourself with him, pretending it didn’t make you feel safe. That the scent of the man you had despised from day one was calming your racing thoughts.  

                                                 # # # # #

    You walked out dressed in Billy’s shirt and a pair of his sweatpants, trying not to limp when he looked up at you. “Thank you. For the soap.” 

    “Not a problem, sweetheart.” Billy smirked as he looked you over. “You, uh, you look good.”  

    You looked down. “Thanks.” You crossed your arms over your chest.  

    “Here, come sit down.” Billy moved the first aid kit he had been sifting through and sat on the edge of the bed.  

    “Why do you have a med kit?” You did as he asked, easing your aching body down with your back resting against the headboard.  

    “Susan wanted me to have one in case Max fell off her skateboard.” Billy noted the way you flinched when you moved your legs up onto the bed.  

    “Smart of her.” You watched as he tore open a packet of antiseptic wipes with his teeth.  

    Billy grimaced. “Pretty much the only smart thing she’s done.” He moved to sit on the edge of bed next to you, gaze focused on your cut lip. “Hold still.”  

    “What do you mean?” You cringed as the wipe touched your cut, fingers curling into fists in your lap.  

    “Easy,” Billy’s voice was soft, softer than you ever thought possible. “Well, she married my dad, and that was dumb. She moved us from Cally, also dumb. There’s a whole list.”  

    “That’s why you’re mad at everyone.” You watched as he finished with your lip and got another wipe.  

    “What’re you, some kind of shrink?” Billy scoffed and pressed the wipe to the cut on your cheek. “What’s up with you, dating scum like Brandon?”  

    “Wasn’t always like this,” you hissed at the pain.  

    “Almost done.” Billy’s hand pressed over your fists, his ring cool against your skin still hot from the shower.  

    You didn’t push him away. “It was fine starting out. Then he started pushing, asking for things I didn’t want to do,” Your throat tightened as the events of the evening flashed through your thoughts. “Not as bad as tonight.”  

    “What was different about tonight?”  

    “I broke up with him, like the idiot I am.” Your gaze fell to hide tears gathering in your eyes.  

    “Hey, he’s the idiot here.” Billy squeezed your hands before pulling away to get a band-aid. “And it’s over now, you’re gonna be done with him.”  

    “That’s easy for you to say, Mr. Tight Pants.” You gave him a look.  

    “Didn’t I tell you?” Billy tucked your hair behind your ear and held your head still as he pressed the band-aid over the cut. “We’re dating now.”  

    “What the-,” you cut yourself off with a hiss of pain.  

    “I’m done, it’s okay, I’m done now.” Billy caught your hand as you reached up to touch the band-aid. “Don’t mess with it.”  

    “I’m not dating you, I can’t.”  

    “Mmhmm, yeah you are.” His attention averted down to your knuckles, thumb brushing over the bruises starting to form from where you punched Brandon.  

    “Why?”  

    “Gotta keep an eye on you.” Billy’s eyes met yours as he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. “If you want me to.” Another soft kiss. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything.” Kiss. “Your choice, angel.”  

    God that made your heart stutter. You looked down, heat flooding your face. No wonder he had charmed so many girls into one-night stands that they talked about for days. But this, what he was implying, sounded long term. It sounded like a relationship, one that felt safe and warm and what the hell was this man doing to you?  

    “Look at that,” Billy was smirking proudly. “The freak is speechless.”  

    “You can’t call me a freak if we’re dating, Billy.” You looked up at him.  

    “Don’t call me Mr. Tight Pants and I’ll think about it, baby.” Billy’s hand moved down to rest on your leg, expression softening once more. “How’re your knees?”  

    “I got most of the dirt out in the shower.” You bit your lip, careful to avoid the cut. “I think…I think my ankle is twisted or sprained or something.”  

    “I’ll look at it, angel, don’t worry.” Billy slowly pushed the fabric of the sweatpants up to reveal your bruised and bloodied leg. “I’ll take care of it.”  

    “I don’t…Never had anyone say that before.”  

    “Oh yeah?” Billy grinned. “Well get used to it.”  

                                                 # # # # #  

    “Hey, angel.”  

    You looked up as Billy leaned against the locker next to you, smirking as he looked you up and down. “How’re you feelin’?”  

    “Better.” You nodded, glancing around at the people watching you as you closed your locker. “Brandon’s been talking, telling people I’m a…I’m a,”  

    “Don’t worry about it.” Billy pulled you close and draped an arm around your shoulders. “Brady and I’ve got a little hangout planned for after school. He’ll make sure to set everyone straight.”  

    “You’re not going to kill him?” You started to walk to class with Billy beside you.  

    “Do you want me to, princess?” Billy looked down at you, smiling as you bit your lip and took a second to decide. “Nah, I won’t. A little freak I know told me he isn’t worth it.”  

    “God you have got to stop calling me that, baby.”  

    Billy chuckled. “Love it when you call me that.”  

    You came to the doorway to your class and stopped. Billy wasted no time in leaning down to kiss you right in front of everyone. “See you later?”  

    You nodded with a smile. “See you later.”  

    Billy was grinning like a fool as he walked away, you and several other girls in the hall staring after him.  

    “I can’t believe it.” A blonde girl looked between you and Billy. “You? Billy chose you? What do you have that makes you so special?”  

    You shrugged. “You know what they say, Delores. I’m just a freak.”  

And with that you turned on your heel and walked into the classroom with a smile on your face.

Fanfic Masterlist

Taglist Request Form

Special shout out to @billysbabyy​. Our conversations inspired me to write this <3

Writer’s Haven Taglist: @alexxavicry @captainsophiestark

[withlovemark]

all of the moments that led me to you.

warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy

pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)

words: 4.5k+

summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington

an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)

-

yr. 1984

i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson

the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass. 

you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.

but you are here. seated inside the henderson household. 

“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading. 

“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son. 

“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request. 

“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions. 

“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to  asking for permission. 

“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.

“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.

dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.” 

you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is. 

“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed. 

letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”

——

you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington. 

pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle. 

“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face. 

“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you. 

you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time. 

 “why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you. 

“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”

“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin. 

“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you,  “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him. 

from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.

subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly. 

snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.

“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.

you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”

“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush. 

“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”

at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have. 

“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips. 

“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to. 

“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested. 

he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter. 

“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted. 

“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable. 

“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.

“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.

“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit. 

“fuCK!, we don’t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper. 

steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.

the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.  

“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.  

“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place. 

steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas. 

ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove

you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?

you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.

the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming. 

everything was strange. 

you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind. 

in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.

“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice. 

everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again. 

the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed. 

it’s amazing what shared trauma could do. 

you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened. 

he gives you a sheepish smile,  almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this. 

“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them. 

“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation. 

“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.  

“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house. 

you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted. 

the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help. 

“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole. 

billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.

standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came. 

“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible. 

“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie. 

“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.

“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice. 

“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you. 

“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair. 

frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve. 

“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening. 

“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. 

steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy. 

billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you. 

“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body. 

you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you. 

“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat. 

“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  

“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace. 

steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being. 

“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall. 

your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.  

you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends. 

the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy. 

somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.

—

the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together. 

a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle. 

“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly. 

“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children. 

you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever. 

“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear. 

max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came. 

you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions. 

iii. the heart-to-heart

in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there. 

you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school. 

‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.  

brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.

“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.

he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips. 

“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes. 

you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long. 

“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.

gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face. 

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions. 

“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second. 

“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you. 

“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up. 

you immediately shake your head,  “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly. 

“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.

“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink. 

“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.

you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom. 

instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?” 

“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.

“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”

“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side. 

“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.

“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.

you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince. 

“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you. 

“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh. 

heart to heart talk it is. 

“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.

“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing. 

you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued. 

“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. 

“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.

“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display. 

“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed. 

“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had. 

he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses. 

“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.

“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.  

“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you. 

but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors. 

steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington. 

just steve. 

-

next: yr. 1985 (to be written)

an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)

feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3

[queers-gambit]

Talk Shit, Get Hit

prompt: ( requested ) your high school bully picks the wrong day to taunt you and it's up to an equally hotheaded Billy to calm you down. call it irony.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader characters are ALL aged 18 years old

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.4k+

note: the reader is aggressive. the reader is violent. the reader’s hands are rated ‘E’ for Everyone.

warnings: you know the drill: author projects instead of going to therapy and uses personal experience as details. there's physical violence, aggressive reader, depiction of shitty home life / toxic family, (somewhat severe) abusive alcoholic parent, parental abandonment, cursing, bullying, Jason Carver's sister is the bully, injury and blood. cursing, threats, brief cigarette and illicit material use (marijuana / weed), i guess this is hurt and comfort, angst, we talk about Billy's abuse with Neil, too, and kinda abrupt ending.

PLEASE NOTE -

this fic will depict parental abuse, both emotional and physical. this fic will discuss an alcoholic parent. this fic will detail physical violence BY the reader.

DO NOT engage if any of these topics potentially trigger you. you will miss nothing if you decide to skip. author implores readers to value and prioritize their own comfort and mental health.

Of all the days Brittany Carver could've chosen, she picked the worst day imaginable to bully you - being akin to a ticking time bomb. To your immense surprise, she'd laid off that entire week, focused on the "big" cheerleading competition she was leading Hawkins High to victory in. It left her no energy to engage in her favorite past time of tormenting you; figuring that after 6 years of her brutal behavior, she had grown up and lost interest. You weren't someone who people bullied easily, but this thing with Brittany, it was some kind of twisted pissing contest; competition brewing in elementary school that boiled over during middle school and now lasted into high school.

However, God seemed to have a sick sense of humor because on the week your bully had temporarily forgotten your existence, things at home had escalated to a new height not previously known. It was true what they said: if it wasn't one thing, it was another.

The entire week, your mother had only been sober for - well - none of it. She was found morning, noon, and night slumped over in various locations around your home with different bottles of liquor in her grip. The house grew messier each day, a direct result of a checked-out parent refusing to do any chore and destructive little monsters that took form as your twin little brothers. You couldn't keep up, playing mother, sister, housewife, personal maid, and full-time student all at once; pushing your stress levels higher, making you bitter and short tempered. The times your mother was conscious, which was typically to find a new bottle of alcohol, she was a right nasty fuck.

Her bark matched her bite; not only yelling at you, belittling you, and gaslighting you - but also using physical aggression to "teach you a lesson" for being "disorderly" or "a waste of semen" - and yes, that is a direct quote. Her hands were dainty from malnourishment, bulging veins prominent, and despite your father abandoning the family ages go, she still wore her diamond wedding ring that left small cuts wherever she struck you. The times she wasn't sober enough to really "get" you, she put out cigarettes on your arms and thighs; leaving tiny, circular burn scars you coated in Neosporin. She’s been known to break a few wooden cooking spoons over your head, steal the money made from babysitting, even cashed-in your inheritance - pawning all of your dead grandmother’s jewelry. There were plenty of other examples, but dwelling on those instances wouldn't change the past or alter your future, so you stuffed them way deep down in your soul.

Naturally, you didn't say a Goddamn thing; under the impression that everyone had shitty family members they tolerated and that your home life was normal enough to not report to the police. You didn't know any better, you didn't know that your mother downing fifths of alcohol daily was cause for concern. You didn't know that abuse wasn't the standard - emotional or physical. It took years for you to learn that love wasn't supposed to hurt, that love wasn't supposed to scare you, that love wasn't selfish, that your mother didn't actually love you. It took years to convince yourself that you were worthy of love and acceptance, never receiving it from your mother - not knowing you could get it from anyone else.

And then, William fucking Hargrove - or Billy - breezed into your small hometown with a sweet denim-clad ass, golden, curly mullet, and a bad fucking attitude that rivaled your own.

It was a match made in heaven. Or hell.

You both suffered at the hands of your parental figures, turning abrasive and foul-mouthed as defense mechanisms. You and Billy developed hardened exteriors in an effort to protect your soft insides, and when you met officially, it was as if you two could see past that hard shell - straight through the bullshit. You recognized much of the same in one another - like looking in a mirror - and grew impossibly close in an incredibly short amount of time; grateful to have a second half who understood without ever needing explanation.

He just got you. Able to identify common threads between you. Billy understood you, having more empathy than you thought he could muster. He protected you. He loved you. He took care of you - and you did the exact same, considering you two were cut from the same cloth; wanting to assure him he was just as worthy of love as you.

Billy was known around Hawkins for being a womanizing jock with anger issues, and yet, when you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he never even looked at another girl twice. He felt as if dating his best friend, understanding that nobody else would truly understand him the way you do - so he did what he could to keep you.

He did his best to defend you, but there was only so many tangible things the star basketball player could protect you from. Gossip and petty cheerleaders, prime examples. Yet Billy still tried, even taking the liberty to confront Brittany's brother, Jason Carver, about leaving you alone. Unfortunately, it was as if Billy's concern spurred on the cheerleader's bullying, calling you pathetic for hiding behind a man and sending him to fight your battles. You told Billy to stay out of it, that you could handle the situation by yourself, that he would just make the situation much more sticky.

So he did. Billy backed off, letting you deal with the situation as best you deemed; offering his support in return, being a shoulder to cry on for the days your frustration peaked.

That entire week Brittany didn't bully you had been extraordinarily tiresome due to your mother's abuse, wanting to confide in Billy but refraining when you rationalized not bringing him into your bullshit. He had enough of his own. So, while, yes, it was a comfort to have him on your side, you never indulged Billy on the woes of your life. He was meant to be your escape, not your savior; the burden of shouldering your abuse while enduring his own feeling terribly unfair.

You kept quiet, even though you were silently begging for someone to save you. Yet you weren't a damsel, there was no Prince Charming, brave knight, chosen champion to slay the dragons terrorizing you.

However, your boyfriend was much more intuitive than you realized. You always prided yourself on your acting skills, convincing everyone around you that you were indifferent to your mother's temperament, even when showing up at school with a casted wrist, black eye, and split bottom lip. Turns out, parents in Hawkins gossiped much more than the kids, and soon, it felt like the entire town knew about your abusive alcoholic mother and runaway father. Nobody did anything to help you, they just tiptoed around the knowledge and stared at your injuries. Brittany Carver was the only person stupid enough to make the mistake of weaponizing your home situation.

It was a tepid spring afternoon, the sun peaking through the clouds and the first flowers sprouting from the thawing ground. The bell rang to dismiss for lunch, the hallways filled with mingling and milling students all grateful for the midday break. Some gathered in gaggles of friends, some headed directly for the cafeteria, and others, like you, utilized the time to exchange morning class books for afternoon materials. Your fractured wrist had long since healed, but there was a long, straight scar present as a result from the surgery you required; currently, a scabbing cut over your eyebrow, lips stinging from where the flesh split, with a collection of bruises turning different colors to represent various healing stages.

Today simply hadn't been your day.

After a week of constant alcohol-fueled battery, you felt your frustrations finally crescendo after being assigned 3 separate essays; doubling your stress, shortening your fuse, and creating heavy leaded dread as the minutes ticked by. Everyone else felt giddy for the spring-tastic weekend, wanting time to go faster so they could go home - but not you. You might've been the one teenager in the city - no, no, the county - no, wait! The state - WAIT, NO... The country, who didn't want to leave school. You didn't want the day to end and be forced out of your safety zone; anxiety twisting your stomach and prickling your skin at the thought of returning home.

Truthfully, you spent several nights a week at Billy's, being snuck in through his window; feeling unsafe in your own home and wanting to remain close without voicing your need for his proximity. You felt stronger with Billy, as if you could take on the world; as if your safety and wellbeing were (finally) a real priority. He took great pride in being that safe haven for you, thinking it a nice change of pace as he often never seized opportunities to prove himself compassionate and caring. Billy was known for being a brute, someone aggressive and commandeering; nobody associating "safety" with him - except you.

However, this wasn't one of those weekends you'd be able to sneak out, being forced into caring for your two wee brothers; them needing you, dependent on you, relying on the care and love you provide them.

As a result of your shitty week, you had been a right, foul bitch to those unfortunate enough to engage you. Being well aware of your attitude, you tried to avoid everyone, not wanting to lash out at innocent peers - labeling yourself a bitch because of your impeccable self-awareness. Though, no matter the labels you assigned, you simply couldn't rein your emotions into check given your anxiety over returning home overpowered your brain.

Knowing you'd be forced to defend yourself against your own mother set your teeth on edge, projecting your horrible mood onto anyone in your vicinity - making most keep their distance.

Keyword: most.

Much like her brother, captain of the basketball team, Jason Carver, Brittany Carver wasn't the brightest bulb of the bunch. She never picked up hints, she didn't bother reading the room or in-between any lines; she held little to no regard for those around her or their emotional state. Brittany just wanted to assert herself as Queen Bee and thought the best way to achieve that was by bullying those she deemed lesser then she. It gave her a power trip, made her feel swollen with importance, boosting her ego because in her mind, she'd rather be feared than loved.

Brittany was dressed in her pretty, pressed, and bright cheer uniform; her obnoxiously blonde hair tied in a high ponytail that swished dramatically with each step. She wore cherry flavored lip gloss, her make-up caked, skirt hiked higher than school regulation permitted because she suckled at the teat for attention - good or bad.

You heard the second bell ring and finished shoving books in your locker, trying to stuff notebooks in your bag when your locker was suddenly violently slammed shut. Flinching at the quick movement and aggressive bang, you glared at whoever dared interrupt you; a manicured hand flat on the metal to keep the locker closed.

"The fuck you want, Brittany?"

"Awh, someone's already got their panties in a twist," she mocked, two of her cronies giggling their support. "C'mon, babe, I was just stopping by to say hello - missed you this week!"

"Oh, for sure," you sneered in a sickly-sweet tone, "of course you missed me, your life is so much more boring without me in it, huh? Wow, seriously, Brittany, I'm flattered to be the main character in your life, too."

Her eyes rolled and one of the other cheerleaders at her flank, Jennifer, popped flavorless gum. "I'm surprised you still have this level of spunk and cheek to talk like that, would've thought Mommy Dearest beat it out of you by now - she hits you often enough, right? Doesn't she? Hmm, well, maybe she needs to hit you a little harder."

"Excuse me?" You snapped.

"You heard me!" She laughed. "Obviously your mom isn't teaching you any lessons since you still have this whole emo-attitude going on. But I can't say I blame her, you're such a bitch - I'd smack the shit outta you, too."

You nodded slowly, not realizing several students had paused themselves to watch the exchange; knowing this was a longtime coming and didn't want to miss the inevitable drama. Dropping your backpack, you asked, "You sure? You really wanna hit me?"

"Is it that hard to believe? I mean," she smirked, "your own mother does - of course, I do, too. Like, seriously, it's not a secret why she hits you - just look at you! No wonder she hates you, you're just a waste of space, resources, and money. Damn shame Billy doesn't see it yet, but don't worry, he will." She laughed again, "He'll get tired of reopening your lip every time you kiss. It's so pathetic and ugly, he'll start to crave what you can't offer. I mean, seriously, what guy with any self-respect wants to date a girl as broken as you?"

"Know what, Brittany?" You growled, balling your fists at your side. "I'll give you one free hit."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Yeah," your head nodded, "go ahead. One free, clean shot. Hit me if you want to so bad, but you'll only get just this one shot."

Her eyes rolled, "I don't need to, your mom's got that covered."

"Free hit, Brit," you taunted, gesturing, "c'mon, go 'head, lemme have it. Since I'm so insufferable, go right ahead - get your clean hit."

Jennifer and Jasmine shared strange looks, the latter nudging, "Just do it, Brittany, shut this stupid bitch the hell up."

"Yeah, Brittany, shut me the hell up."

She looked to her little goons with a smirk, shrugged and handing over her backpack. When Brittany turned again, she dramatically wound her arm back and used her full strength to swing her fist into your cheek; only making your head turn a fraction from impact. You hummed and nodded, the cheerleader laughing with her girls as if she had "shown you" - but her amusement died when she noticed you barely reacted.

You smirked, cracking your neck, "My turn!"

Your knuckle cracked the bridge of the cheerleader's nose - sick sound of a snap ringing in your ears and jolting the girl's head backwards; momentum forcing her to stumble. Brittany shrieked in pain, holding her nose, unable to defend herself as you launched your attack; first slamming her back into the lockers before jabbing your fist into any vulnerable spot you could.

Similar to the movies, you held Brittany by her hair to keep her in place; wailing your punches repeatedly, each hit making Britt bang into the lockers. Jennifer and Jasmine tried to pull you away but both earned their own punches or elbows to the face for the interference. You focused on Brittany, instantly curating a flock of students all eager to watch.

"FIIIIIIGHT!"

"GIRL FIGHT!"

"BEAT HER ASS, Y/N!"

Brittany sobbed as blood dribbled down her front, staining her pretty uniform, but you were just getting started. The hallway turned noisy, a circle forming around you four as all three cheerleaders were staved off; you running on pure anger, adrenaline, and overflowing frustration that encouraged your foot to kick Britt's gut. You'd never admit it, but Brittany's mocking had hurt you past words, made you feel vulnerable, disarmed, as if you were damaged, undeserving goods. With each punch or kick or stomp, you remembered a different instance of your mother's abuse, seeing her face instead of Brittany's; spurring you on with unrestrained force.

In the parking lot, Billy was leaning on his car with a few teammates from the basketball team and enjoying a hearty nicotine-filled break. Though they'd never label it as such, the boys exchanged idle gossip; listening to Conrad Jones detail his latest conquest, sneering about how "easy" Kennedy Stephens was. They were interrupted when Kyle Lambert sprinted up to them, sneakers skidding over asphalt, panting dramatically, "Billy! Billy! Y-You gotta come see this, man! You gotta help!"

"What?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I-It's your girl - it's Y/N!"

He pushed off his car that was supporting his weight, demanding, "What about her?"

"You gotta come quick, man, you gotta see this! It's fucking wild! Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine tried jumping her - "

Billy was surging across the carpark instantly, tossing his cigarette away before yanking the school doors open. He was instantly greeted by the chaotic sight and sounds of a fight, peers gathered in a large circle; screaming their support and hollering encouragement.

"Billy! Oh, thank God!!" Chrissy Cunningham cried, waving him closer. "You have to help! You have to do something, it's 3-on-1!"

He didn't acknowledge the strawberry blonde, just started instantly shoving through the crowd to reach the edge of the fight. It wasn't the sight he was anticipating - fearing the worst, now pleasantly surprised (and a little turned on).

Blood was splattered on the linoleum floors, a single streak smeared on the lockers. Jennifer was left on the ground with her back against the metal, sporting a busted lip as Jasmine was trying to coax her to her feet - sporting a ruddy face and disheveled look. Left in the center, to the entertainment of the crowd, was you on top of Brittany Carver, heaving your fist time and again into her face.

"Shit," he breathed, intending to step forward to stop the fight but needing to shove Tommy H. out of his way when he stepped forward.

"C'mon, man! It's a girl fight! Don't break it up!" Tommy begged, but Billy bullied through.

"All right, that's enough," he grunted, wrapping his arms around your middle and heaving you up and back a step - needing to engage his core and arms when you wriggled in an effort to free yourself. "Hey, hey, hey - "

"Lemme go! This bitch needs put in the ground!"

"Jesus Christ, when did you get this strong?" He grunted, your feet slipping on blood but still being restrained by your boyfriend's impressive strength.

"Talk your shit again, bitch!" You barked at Brittany, who was sobbing in pain and curling into herself. "Lemme hear you say another Goddamn word, you'll need more than another nose job! Fake ass, plastic bitch!"

Jason joined the center and knelt at his sister's side, helping her sit up, glaring at you and Billy. Your boyfriend grit his teeth when Jason snarled, "You need to muzzle your bitch, Billy!"

"I'll fuck you up for talkin' about her like that, Carver, don't provoke me. Watch yourself," Billy snapped in warning, successfully managing to get you behind him.

However, you dodged around him with only enough time to spit hatefully on Brittany, warning, "You wanna talk shit, you'll get hit! Don't let me hear you again - don't you ever dare say another word about my mama! I'll put you in the ground, bitch, fucking try me! I dare you! Try me again, say shit about my mama, and see what the fuck I do!"

"All right, all right, you made your point," Billy stiffly told you, pulling you away by force to avoid you actually killing Brittany. He got a look at her injuries, thinking there must've been more than a broken nose from the way her uniform was stained and her entire face bloodied. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here, come with me - c'mon, baby, you can't touch her anymore, you made your point, you'll end up killin' her or some shit," he panted, shoving through the crowd and effectively ending the fight.

Billy didn't let go of your form until finally outside - letting you rip yourself away as your blood boiled, adrenaline making you much stronger. He watched you pace; huffing, puffing, seething, all but gnashing your teeth hatefully. "That fucking bitch had it coming, Bee, it was self defense!" You finally explained.

"Oh, yeah, princess, totally looked like it," he scoffed, blocking the doors in case you tried to go back. He lit another cigarette.

"It was, you condescending asshole!" You snapped, eyes ablaze and anger tangible. "She approached me, she ran her mouth, and she hit me first!"

"Well," he sighed, "whatever the reason, it's not worth jail time for beating her to death."

"Might be."

"Ain't nothing worth throwing your life away," he offered you the cigarette, but you refused. "Why don't you just tell me what happened? What'd she say?"

"It doesn't matter, Billy."

"I think it matters when she looks like she's gonna need a blood transfusion to replenish what she's lost."

"Whatever - let it be a lesson that you shouldn't throw stones if you're scared of a boulder."

Billy sighed, smoke blown from his mouth, "C'mon, doll, tell me what happened?"

"Doesn't matter, it's done, it's over, it's in the past."

"Baby, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"You can't help, period, Billy! There's nothing you can do!"

"Well, you're not even letting me try!"

"'Cause it's redundant!"

"Obviously not when you look like a raging bull!"

Your eyes rolled, head shaking, "I handled it."

"I saw," he scoffed. "So, 3-on-1? How'd that happen?"

"I told you, they approached me."

"Well, I'm gonna need a little more to go on. C'mon, pretty girl, the fuck just happened? You know you can get suspended!" This made you freeze, muscles clamming up, looking purely petrified as if the thought hadn't occurred to you. "I know you don't want that, but if you talk to me, maybe I can help lessen whatever punishment."

"Oh, whatever, like I care about being punished," you snipped, hands twisting together - telling Billy you were beginning to get anxious.

"I think you do, it'd put you in the house with your mom alone," he trailed, pushing away from the doors to approach you like a baby deer. "C'mon, I know you don't wanna get suspended, so just tell me what happened."

"I'm sure you'll hear all about it from your little basketball buddies."

"I don't fucking care!" He snapped with the cigarette trapped and bobbing between his lips, making you look at him in mild shock. "There's gonna be a hundred different rumors, whole fuckin' school watched you beat the shit outta those girls - but I only care about what you have to say."

"There's no point - "

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he growled, snatching the cig between his knuckles, "I just saw three bitches on the ground, all injured, beaten up, bleeding - so stop being so Goddamn stubborn and just tell me! I'm tryna help you!"

"You pulled me off of her, you've helped plenty."

"I'd like to understand how this happened."

"It won't change anything."

"No, it won't, but you have a side to the story. Tell me what went wrong? What happened?"

You sighed, no longer pacing, planting both hands on your hips. Your head shook as Billy tossed the filtered cigarette butt aside, muttering when he exhaled the last of the smoke, "It seems so stupid now."

"Hey," he soothed, crowding into your space and taking one of your hands in his. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it wasn't stupid. You're forgetting, I know well enough to understand you wouldn't throw a punch unless absolutely necessary. Whatever got you riled up like that ain't stupid, sweetheart."

Like a glazed donut, your eyes turned glassy. Billy frowned and took your other hand off your hip, forcing your attention on him. "I swear, I didn't start it," you whispered.

"Only matters that you finished it," he smirked. "Tell me, what the fuck was all that?"

You sighed deeply, offering meekly, "Guess they had it comin'..."

"I know they did," Billy chuckled. "Nobody's that stupid to provoke you, except Brittany."

"I was at my locker... They approached and slammed it shut."

"Right, okay..."

"There were words exchanged, but Brittany, she - " You paused, swallowing thickly, "she started talkin' shit about my mom, about, you know, what she does..."

Billy understood instantly. "You fuckin' serious?" He growled, seeing you nod and fill him in on what was said - unable to look him in the eye as you relived your anger. By the end, you were trembling in emotion and adrenaline loss, Billy sighing deeply and yanking you into his chest for a tight embrace. "All right, yeah," he mumbled, "should've put them bitches in the ground."

"And now," you sniffled, "I'm gonna get suspended, forced to stay home with Ma all next week."

"We'll get you outta it."

"Can't, the school doesn't tolerate fighting on school grounds."

"You said she swung first?"

"Technically, yes. I might've - allegedly - prompted her into it."

"It's still selfdefense, toots, no matter what you or anyone said - if she swung first and hit you, you were only defending yourself."

You shrugged, resting on his chest, "You see the damage? Admin won't care who swung first - not when they're beat to shit."

"Yeah, there's my li'l hothead," he smirked, chuckling slightly before pecking the top of your head. "But you gotta admit, it's impressive how you took on all three."

"I guess, doesn't exactly feel like an accomplishment."

"Nah, princess, seriously," he pulled you back to look at him again, "that's fuckin' hot. I mean, they approached you and still got their asses handed to 'em. That's straight skill."

"Or just a lot of anger with nowhere to go," you frowned. "Think I should go find admin?"

"Nah, they'll probably find you - "

The doors opened and your name was called, the principal's secretary waving you to her. "Fuck," you whispered, releasing Billy.

"I'll come with you," he promised, lacing your fingers together when he took your hand. Billy had to admit, it was a little weird being in the principal's office but not being the one in trouble; waiting without patience in a fraying chair, picking at the exposed stuffing with his leg bouncing. He'd been there 45 minutes, skipping the last half of classes, just waiting as you were behind a closed door with the principal, vice principal, and the disciplinary officer.

He looked up when the school nurse lead Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine inside - glaring at them but admiring the scattering of cuts and bruises with dried blood on their precious uniforms. A few minutes later, you were exiting the office with a passive and neutral expression settled on your face. Your lip curled only slightly when you clocked the cheerleaders - hating how smug they all looked - approaching Billy instantly.

"You all right?" He checked, standing and adjusting his jeans.

"Mhm," you nodded, keeping your voice low as the principal called the three cheerleaders into his office. You waited until the door was closed, then informed with a smirk, "I'm not suspended."

"No?"

"Nope," you confirmed. "Apparently, they asked a couple other kids what happened and my story matches theirs. I was minding my business, they came up to me, they started mouthing off, and Brittany was the one who hit me first. So," you shrugged, "guess your idea of selfdefense held strong."

"See? That's good, huh?"

"Yeah," you sighed, nodding absently, "but he said the girls were gonna lose their spot on the cheer squad for this. Listen, I don't think I feel like goin' back to class - kinda just wanna take a nap."

Billy hiked up his jean jacket sleeve, consulting his watch for a moment. "Wanna head to mine? Neil's got the evening shift and Susan has bridge club for a few more hours - we'd be alone."

Your eyes rolled, "No offense, Bee, I don't feel like fucking right now."

"I'm not sayin' that, I'm sayin' let's go nap at mine," he chuckled, picking up your backpack that you forgot about. "We can come back to get your brothers but you know you're not gonna rest if you go home."

You gulped, sighing sadly, "Yeah, well, about that..."

"Something else happen?"

"Apparently... The school has an obligation to call the police if a student reports abuse."

"You reported your mom?"

"Not on purpose," you rushed in defense, "just that... I had to explain what Brittany said to me - so I had to admit what Ma did - or does."

Billy frowned, "Jesus."

"Yeah, so... Maybe going home isn't the smartest idea right now. I wouldn't wanna be there when they conduct their wellness check."

"You wanna stay at mine?" He offered.

"What about Neil?"

"He's a lot nicer with you around," he admitted. "Won't care too much if you stay the night. Plus Max has that club thing after school, then she's going to the arcade; so, she won't need a ride, we can just go."

"You know what? Sure, all right, I'll come to yours," you accepted, your lover boy whisking you away without a second thought. "Thank you, baby."

Your hands were stiff, and when you looked at them, noted split skin and stained blood as a reminder of your aggression... Wondering why the fuck people pushed you to these limits and acted surprised when you reacted? If they wanted a punching bag, they picked the wrong one - but you were willing to remind them.

When you got to the Hargrove residence, you were silent as the grave; stewing in your anger that rolled off you in projected waves. Billy was terribly disarmed, unsure how to properly comfort you - wondering how he would want to be comforted, realizing he'd want to be alone, not subject to anyone's bullshit advice. So, he did what he knew and after handing you a bag of frozen peas for your split knuckles, comfortably stripped and crashed in bed with the window cracked and a rolled joint between his fingers.

You rested on his bare chest, sighing deeply while watching the end of the spliff come to life in a smoldering ember. Billy took the first inhale to make sure it was lit and instantly handed it to you, his arm snug around you and the silence hanging in the air like the swirls of stale, exhaled smoke.

"I'm sorry it got to this point, pretty girl," He offered awkwardly, his other arm bending to prop under his head. Both of you stared off aimlessly, stereo filling the space dully in the background.

"Not your fault," You inhaled and held your breath, handing him the joint. He casually flicked the end in an ashtray resting on the window sill.

"No, but I could've done more."

You chuckled, smoke seeping through your lips and teeth, "Oh, yeah? How? You gonna beat up three girls?"

"Nah but I could beat the shit outta Jason."

"What good would that do?"

"If he didn't want a weekly black eye, Jason would control his sister."

"It's always about control with you, isn't it?"

"I'm just saying," he handed the joint back, lungs pinched to hold the smoke, "I could protect you."

"You already do, baby."

"Let me do more, princess."

"You can't fight every battle for me."

"You could let me try."

"You'd be fighting on two fronts," you frowned, exhaling slowly. "Can't fight for me when you're defending yourself against Neil."

"Might be easier to deal with your shit than my own," he chuckled without humor, accepting the spliff. "Look, I know you don't want me involved, but that's kinda what a boyfriend's supposed to do, right? Protect their woman?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Never had a boyfriend before?"

"Nobody was worth dating until you. Nobody could understand me the way you do so effortlessly."

"'Cause we're one and the same, baby girl. You don't have to do everything by yourself," he inhaled, handing the spliff over again, "don't always have t'be strong."

"Ain't no other choice."

"You could let me in more..."

"You're one to talk."

He sighed, smoke billowing. "You're right. Can't expect you to open up if I don't, so why don't we both try to let the other in more? Yeah, I get it, the shit we deal with ain't pretty but at least we understand each other, right? We're the best for each other to lean on."

"I don't wanna drag you into my bullshit, baby."

"I want you to drag me in, princess. I wanna help you."

You sighed, "Well, Brittany and her cronies are getting suspended and kicked off the cheer squad - they'll be looking for reason to take it out on me."

"Say the word, baby, and I'll beat Jason black-and-blue."

"You're so romantic."

"Only for you - so don't tell anyone. I got a reputation to protect."

You both snickered as the weed you indulged in took effect, lulling you two into a state of ease. Your knuckles had stopped burning, resting your injured hand under the frozen peas, reminding yourself to remain grateful in this turbulent period of life because now, you had someone on your team. Someone who wanted to help carry your baggage. Someone without alternate motives. Someone who was willing to withstand the storm in the hope of feeling the warmth of the sun again.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[munsster]

bedhead

A/N: I needed a sleepy boy on this sleepy day. and billy H needs a damn haircut >:) gif cred: @julie-thefatones

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

Summary: Billy wakes with the desire to get rid of his hair eating away at him. 0.7k words

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, established relationship, implied night terrors, messy haircuts, anxiety/insomnia, scars, mentions of bullying

Everything Billy can touch is cold and dark. The sheets, the hard wood floor, the bathroom light switch, the porcelain counter. The water that pours from the faucet and the silver rings of the trimming scissors you keep in a soft plastic case in the cabinet below the sink. The only noise he can reasonably detect is the whirring of the ceiling fan. And if he listened carefully enough, paused his thundering heart for just a moment, he could hear your breath as it fans across your pillow.

But he came in here for a reason. Wielding the cold metal shears like Goliath and his sword. Marching into battle at six foot something, only to find himself in the mirror, damp with sweat and pale with insomnia. Deep purple cresting his edges and the thin crescents of skin beneath his baby blue eyes. Though the bathroom gives him a sickly green tint.

The first chunk of hair hits the floor with the faintest thud. So faint, it shouldn't be classified as a thud. But it's more the weight of the change than the handful of dark gold curls itself.

He's lopsided now. Now there's no turning back. But he couldn't proceed forward with any strength and confidence looking how he's looked for years. How he looked beating up his friends and calling girls sluts. How he looked on the verge of death.

Billy used to wear his head of sun kissed, West Coast hair like a helmet. Now it feels like a burden. You'd still fawn over him if he buzzed it all off. You'd call him stupid, sure, but he'd still be yours. And right now, that's all he's concerned with being.

Because you peer into the bathroom and coo his name like you don't see the growing pile of hair writhing around on the floor.

"Hi, baby," you whisper, cradling the scissors when he drops them into your hands, "little early for a haircut, isn't it?"

He shrugs, but he doesn't look at you. Like a child guilty of putting a piece of gum in his sister's hair. Only he's the one with the choppy locks, uneven chunks missing by his ears and the back of his head.

"Want help?"

Oh, and there are those baby blues, surrounded by soft pink sclera and nearly drooping from their sweetened places above his flushed cheeks.

Billy straddles the toilet lid backwards, arms crossed and settled on the ledge. He lets you turn his head side to side, up and down, and the pattern becomes soothing. Especially as the extra weight accumulates below his socked feet and over his sloped shoulders.

He thinks he must’ve passed out to the sound of the clippers, because he wakes with a tap on his shoulder. Your manicured pointer on his warm midnight skin rousing him from a dreamless sleep.

“Hmm?”

“All done,” you whisper, kissing his temple when he turns his head, “come look.”

Billy’s fingers feel heavy as he drops them between yours. You can hear the exhaustion in how he slumps to a stop in front of the mirror. He takes his time, a few deep breaths, and a while to admire the cropped cut. The way he hasn’t looked in years. It’s refreshing.

“You look really handsome, Billy. Was about time for a trim.” There’s a lilt in your voice that’s hard to take. It lightens his chest, straightens his shoulders, widens his tired eyes. Because there’s this sort of mischief clear on your face from where you stand behind his shoulder. He can feel it through the mirror. Intoxicating and delicious. Makes him feel beautiful as if he ever has before.

Billy whips around and twists his arms tight around you, collapsing into your embrace like a lovely paper doll. The room is cool like a nice glass of water. Even with the sun hinting at the morning and cars whizzing by down below, the light blue of five AM settles over him like a blanket.

You run your fingers up the exposed back of his neck, and he groans. The hair is short there, his neck is hot, his teeth sink into your shoulder playfully.

“Back to bed.”

He nods and does not let go, just waddles you to the bed, tucking the both of you back under the duvet with a big sigh.

masterlist

[static-fucking-mess]

Eddie couldn't help himself. He stared at Billy Hargrove sometimes; the gorgeous curls and wild grin lit something inside of him the first time Eddie had ever laid eyes on him.

Billy's plush lips sucking in the smoke from his Marlboro reds, broad shoulders, tight jeans. Eddie couldn't help himself from focusing on the way Billy's tongue flashed out to wet his lips as the smoke billowed off into the sky from his nose.

Billy washed into Hawkins and Eddie's life like a hurricane from California. His loud car, crashing music, and Eddie knew just from catching sight of him once that he wanted to know everything about him. He imagined if he got close enough he'd still be able to smell the ocean air on his sun kissed skin. He wanted to know his favorite bands, his thoughts on media, God he'd even sit through talking about cars if it meant Billy would look his way. (It wasn't like he wasn't interested, just that his own knowledge was limited to keeping his dinosaur of a van alive, and he didn't want to sound like an idiot. Not in front of Billy.)

Everything about Billy attracted Eddie to him. Eddie Munson had never considered himself shy. Fuck, he was a bit awkward about social boundaries, but he'd never felt shy before. Then, there were rarely ever new people that came to Hawkins to stay. And Billy made it clear that he had no intention of staying. Hawkins was small, and desperately choking on its shallow gene pool, in Eddie's opinion. Fresh faces were hard to find, especially ones that were willing to look his way, after all.

Billy hadn't been willing. To look his way, that was. He took to the social hierarchy like a wrecking ball, and sent it all asunder. King Steve seemed no more, Tommy and Carol seemed to fight more amongst themselves these days instead of making biting remarks at others. But Billy? He still wouldn't spare a breath on Eddie the Freak Munson.

Eddie had tried once.

He'd been utterly tongue tied in approaching Billy, picking at his sleeve. The two stood awkwardly behind the school dumpsters as they had their smoke break. Eddie's hand shook as he rolled his wrist, searching for the right words that refused to come.

"I really— I mean... fuck— sorry. Hold on. Uh—"

Billy's cool gaze slid up from where his zippo burned the cherry of his cigarette. He flicked his wrist to close his lighter before he tucked it away, utterly unimpressed. Eddie would probably be unimpressed with himself too. But damn; Billy Hargrove was a God carved of marble and gold, blessed by California sun. Eddie was a home grown weed from an Indiana backyard. His brown hair frizzy, unkempt, and his skin a touch oily from his aversion to water. It wasn't like he skipped showers because he wanted to. But in that moment Eddie felt painfully aware that Billy Hargrove was miles out of his league.

"Beat it," Billy grumbled at him. "I'm not in the business of making friends with people like you," he hissed. Those beautiful blues steeling into something dangerous that made Eddie's insides go cold. He swallowed back his words and the shaking in his hand seemed to intensify.

"No um... no that's. Fair. People like me?" Eddie inquired, head tipping a bit. He wanted to know just what part of his stigma had reached Billy first. He'd seen the saints necklace dangling in the open neck of his shirt. "The Satan worshipper? The freak?"

"Queers," Billy snapped. He looked at Eddie like a hostile and wild animal. Like his smiles were more reflective of the animal kingdom than the humanity he bore to charm others. Eddie swallowed dry air and dropped his gaze? Putting his cigarette out under his shoe.

"Right," Eddie affirmed. Billy had seen the way the guy looked at him. It was impossible to miss those dark, chocolate doe eyes when they lingered on him. It tickled the inside of Billy's ribs something real funny when he noticed Eddie in class. Distracted, but gazing his way like he was looking at art in a museum.

Billy was used to people lusting after him. He was hot, and god he knew it. He utilized it more often than he probably should have, but his good genetics in the physical appearance department had gotten him into, and out of a lot of trouble.

But Eddie wasn't lusting.

Eddie looked like he was trying to figure him out. Wondering at him. And that was dangerous. Because Billy had caught himself wondering too. What calloused hands would feel like holding down his wrists, or what those pouty lips would feel like stealing the breath off his. Thoughts like that were what had led to them having to leave California. Thoughts that turned to action, action that had made Neil so angry that he gave Billy two options:

Leave California, and the boy behind...

Or go to Summer Camp.

The two seemed like impossible evils to wrestle with. And in the end, with defeat, Billy had chosen to leave his home behind. It had hurt more that the boy had moved on before Billy could even explain himself. He swore, man or woman, he wouldn't date. Dating just brought trouble. Laying roots was dangerous. Ripping them free just hurt more.

So, he broke Eddie's heart before it had the chance to bloom. So he thought.

Nearing the beginning of November, Billy struggled one morning to light his cigarette. Shivering from the cold, and possibly the pain in his ribs. The pain that curled up through him and reminded him that defiance tasted like iron and copper on every breath in.

"Here—" the voice was steeped in sweet honey. Eddie lit his cigarette for him, and Billy flicked his eyes up to meet with Eddie's.

Eddie cupped his hands around Billy's while the cigarette dangled from his lips. Eddie rubbed his rough hands over Billy's to warm them, breathing softly over them to fight away the frost and chill in the air. Billy stood stiff and still like the early frost had taken root in him.

Eddie gazed up at Billy and offered him a smile, almost sheepish as he stepped away. He mourned the loss of that warmth as soon as it was gone, the fleeting action stirring something inside that Billy didn't want to fan the flames of.

"Shit, sorry," Eddie snorted. "I'm kind of a touchy guy, and uh. Social boundaries? Not my strong suit."

Billy chuffed, shaking his head before he took his cigarette loosely between two fingers and spat onto the pavement.

"Don't fucking touch me, freak," he hissed to Eddie. His frustration sizzling as his voice lacked the ire he wanted it to have. He wanted Eddie to flinch and run. But he didn't. Instead he just... shrugged his shoulders, unbothered, and turned away to smoke his own cigarette.

The next time Billy had contact with Eddie, it happened so quickly that Eddie wasn't even sure what had happened. It was just something small. Something... simple. But as they passed in the hall, Tommy had shoulder checked Eddie hard enough to knock him on his ass, laughing like he was looking for Billy's approval. That was not what happened.

The loud crash against the lockers had startled Eddie back to himself from the position he was in on the floor.

Billy had Tommy pinned to the lockers, speaking to him in a low and deeply venomous tone.

"Hands off, Hagan. The only person who gets to mess with the freak is me," he snarled.

Eddie wondered what that meant, but it felt like stepping closer to a warm fire in a way. He knew Damm well it might be dangerous to get too close. But Eddie didn't mind the way Billy burned. He wanted to be caught in the rush of Billy's storm.

Eddie had held that warm feeling in his chest for a while. It felt like a glow, and it was something that made him look Billy's way, even when he was shoved against lockers, shoulder checked in the hall, or had his books knocked out of his hands. Eddie always caught it.

The smile that wasn't mocking, even when Billy would insult him. It was like he couldn't put the same vitriol in it that he used to.

"Freak" felt more like a term of endearment. "Loser" felt like an invitation to squabble. And God did Eddie take every chance to bicker with Billy Hargrove.

Mid December, their words had turned into a tussle.

"You wouldn't dare—" Eddie had invited, grinning at Billy who had every intention of dumping Eddie into a snowbank.

"I think you need to cool it," Billy had snarked back, looking less than threatening with his red beanie on his head, puff ball and all. It had been Eddie's. The beanie. But Eddie hadn't said a word about the gloves, scarf, and hat he'd left in Billy's locker after he had noticed that the boy from California didn't have clothes suited for Indiana winter.

"Don't do it, Billy," Eddie laughed.

"Do what? I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Billy said back, casual as he took a step closer.

It happened, in a crash of flailing limbs and shrieking laughter. Billy saw Eddie for the first time. He saw the bright smile that was punctuated by dimples on either side. He saw the way Eddie's fuzzy hair fanned out in the snow as he was dumped into the snow bank, and god he couldn't help but notice the way flakes stuck in his eyelashes. His cheeks and ears red from the cold; Eddie wasn't wearing gloves, a hat, or a scarf. He'd given up his warm clothes to keep Billy warm.

And that sure made something inside Billy warmer than the sun in California ever could.

It was mid January when a knock resonated number 12 at the forest hills trailer park. It brought Eddie out of dozing. The alarm clock read an ugly 2am back at him that made him groan.

He pulled himself up and out of bed as the knock grew more irritated and insistent, swiping his hands down over his tired face.

"Jesus christ, I'm coming! Fucking relax!" He bellowed. Eddie shoved his feet into his slippers and shuffled to the front door, ripping it open.

"My hours end at 11 pm on week... nights..." the irritation in Eddie's voice gave way to a shocked whisper as he was met with a ghastly sight before him.

Billy Hargrove standing on his porch, braced against the side of the trailer to stop any swaying. It looked like he had bruises littering half of his face, and Eddie imagined it was worse, with the way the bruises on his neck seemed to bloom down under his jacket.

"Hey," Eddie whispered, unsure if he could say more. When he reached to push a curl out of Billy's face, the man flinched like Eddie was about to put a knife to his throat.

Instead, Eddie put his hand on Billy's shoulder and guided him to come inside.

That was the night that Eddie learned about Neil Hargrove. It was the same night that Eddie slept, curled around Billy. Like he could protect him.

Billy slept with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone, sinking into the scents of cinnamon and cigarette smoke. Eddie was warm, and even though he was more elbows and knees than plush and soft... Billy felt like he fit perfectly with his head tucked under Eddie's chin. Eddie gave good hugs. Great hugs even. Enough of them that Billy felt drunk on the scent of cinnamon and the comfort of his best friend's arms.

They continued as best friends for a long time. Until the Tragedy of Starcourt. Nobody called Eddie. Nobody had thought to at first, really. With the chaos and the news of Russians under the mall— not to mention how the last week or two, Billy had been avoiding Eddie like he was a Germ.

"Get the fuck away from me—"

"Stay away from me Munson."

"Get the fuck out of my face."

"I won't warn you again, if you come near me, I'll break your fucking neck."

Eddie had been sulking about it. Well. More than sulking if he was honest. Had he cried on Wayne's shoulder? Absolutely. Did he get a speeding ticket on his way to the hospital once Max had called him? Absolutely.

Eddie stood in the doorway of Billy's hospital room, looking in on his best friend like the universe had put a knife through his heart. Billy looked barely alive. Fragile.

Eddie was one of the very few visitors that Billy got. Neil Hargrove hadn't shown his face once. Max had told him in a hushed voice that he had packed his things to leave town. Billy was a hero for saving so many people in the mall fire, and Neil still hated him. Didn't want a disabled son.

Billy woke up alone. He wasn't surprised to wake up alone, in a hospital room without a single card on his bedside. Sure, he wasn't surprised... but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt like being cracked open from the inside out. A glaring statement that told Billy Hargrove:

'You don't matter.'

Even alone, Billy stifled his sobs so he wouldn't be noticed.

"Easy tough guy," the gentle voice came from the doorway, making Billy's heart jump up into his throat. Eddie came in with the nurses, who checked his vitals and pain levels. But Billy barely noticed them. He was focused on the boy whose smile cleansed the tar clinging to his heart.

"Thought I told you to piss off," Billy snorted through his tears, managing a shaky smile.

"I've never been good at listening," Eddie replied, rubbing his hand through Billy's bed messy curls. "Can't shake me that easy, sweetheart. I thought you'd have learned that by now. That grouchy bullshit isn't gonna shake me," he assured. Eddie was determined enough to stick out the hurricane.

"You're annoying," Billy spat at him, pushing his hand away.

"And I'm determined to continue to be," Eddie replied as he snatched Billy's wrist. He slid his hand up to lace their fingers and squeeze.

"Give it time," Billy said, seemingly unimpressed. He refused to look at Eddie, only because the idiot was gazing at him like he was someone precious.

"I've got time," Eddie replied, unshaken.

"Jesus, Munson, why don't you just— just leave me the hell alone?! Why are you always," Billy's breath hitched as his voice broke. Eddie was always there. Like a balm to his wounds. He didn't flinch when Neil beat him. He opened the door or answered the call no matter how late. Eddie Munson was a rock in the hurricane, ready to weather his storm.

Billy thought back to the memories El had shown him in that pit of darkness. His mother, the beach, the waves... and the snowy December day that Billy had fallen in love with Eddie Munson.

Billy didn't resist when Eddie placed his hand on his neck, thumbing his jaw like he was brittle. Fragile. And Billy supposed he was.

"God damn," Eddie whispered, smiling at Billy with tender eyes.

"What? Quit fucking looking at me like that. Like— like... pity. Jesus or like I'm gonna break. I don't need your bullshit sympathies, or your God damn coddling, Munson."

Billy felt like a wild animal, backed into the corner of a cage. Snapping and growling at the tender hands that wanted to hold him. Especially if that monster still lurked inside him somewhere. Ready to hurt.

That fear washed away when Eddie kissed Billy's knuckles, something soft. Endearing. Billy could only hitch a sob as his forehead thudded in to rest on Eddie's collarbone. He squeezed Eddie's hand, and to his relief... Eddie squeezed back. It felt a whole lot like someone saying:

'You matter. I love you.'

And for once, Billy wasn't afraid of it being a lie.

[billlydear]

Hi! This is kinda a heavy topic so feel free to skip if you’re not comfortable! Could you possibly do a writing of how Billy would react to his usually stoic and strong s/o going though something really upsetting and crying to him? I recently lost a loved one so I could use some comfort :( and Billy looks like he gives good hugs.

ROLE REVERSAL - BILLY HARGROVE X READER

W.C 1035 - REQUEST - MASTERLIST - CREDIT TO GIF OWNER

i'm so sorry for your loss, i hope that this is able to help, and if there's anything else i can do to cheer you up, please let me know &lt;3

It's not typical for you to show up at Billy's door crying. Usually it's the other way around, tears gathering in his bruised eyes threatening to slip down his stinging cheeks, waiting in the safety of his saddened gaze until he's in the sanctuary that your embrace has to offer.

He's so familiar with this routine, get hit, fall down, get up, go home, cry, that when it's reversed, when his home comes to him crying, his stomach twists with an uncomfortable feeling.

He meets you on the doorstep, though not because he's afraid of Neil seeing you. The couple is out for the weekend, and Max was supposed to be asleep hours ago, though Billy has a sneaking suspicion she's still up.

It was no trick of the light, there are tears on your cheeks. Something prickles in his chest, hot, angry, sharp, but you butt your head against his front and his heart steps forwards to block it from hurting you. Instead you meet the soft material of his fleece jacket, something that he'll never admit to sleeping in in front of his friends.

"Y/N," He wraps his arms around you by instinct, and you cling to him, so he knows he made the right choice. Your chest is convulsing with sobs he doesn't know the cause of, and every second that he sits there and lets you suffer makes his teeth clench.

"Angel," He keeps his voice low and sweet for the amount of anger brewing inside of him, tilting your chin up with his fingers hooked beneath it, "What happened? Who did this to you?"

Billy sees tears on your cheeks and wants to fight. He knows fighting means crying, and if he can fight back for once in his life, then you won't cry anymore. But you shake your head vehemently, face smearing against his chest and leaving dark tearstains where your eyes rest.

"Talk to me," He pleads, and he probably sounds more brash than he wants to. He's just desperate, he can't fix things if he doesn't know what's wrong.

The second you're able to breathe long enough to stammer out that he can't fight death, his entire body stiffens. He feels it from his head to his toes, the aching realization that he can't fix this. You're going to cry, you're going to hurt, you're going to suffer, and he can't stop it, he can't fix it.

Your sobs are loud and they gush from you in waterfalls, so it's no surprise when Max pokes her head out of the front door, a nervous frown on her face. He knew she wasn't sleeping.

"Y/N?" She starts, but Billy shakes his head.

"Not now," He mumbles, tilting his head back inside, "Go get her a jacket from my closet. And- and brew some of your mom's tea shit!"

When Max follows his directions, only willingly because they're for you, he turns back to you.

"Let's go inside," He prompts you, hunching down to catch beneath your bum, lifting you up slightly to haul you over the threshold. On a typical day, he'd give your ass a cheeky squeeze, but he doesn't think it would be very considerate now.

You seem content to stay buried in his chest the entire walk to the couch, however awkward the shuffle is. When he finally gets onto the couch you're on top of him already, his back sinking against the cushions while you dig your knees into his hips. He keeps you as close as possible, rubbing up and down your back the way you do when he comes through your window at night.

He tries parroting the sweet nothings that you whisper into his ear during those late-night tear-filled meetups, and the more he croons to you, the more natural his words become.

'You're safe,' and 'You can cry,' turn into, 'I'm sorry, angel.' and 'Breathe, baby'. One that stays the same is, 'It'll get better,' and he takes solace in the fact that you won't be sad forever. He knows you need to be sad now, though, so he clenches his teeth and accepts that he can't fix this.

When Max comes back with his hoodie and your mug of tea you thank her tearily, but Billy knows you don't want to sob around her, so he sends her back to bed. He does it politely, though, because he knows she's evading sleep to care about you, not to get on his nerves.

"Careful," Billy murmurs, watching your hands shake as they grip your tea. He cups his large hand underneath the mug to hold it steady, and a gulp of the steamy liquid sends a shiver down your spine. He scratches it away, smoothing hair away from your face where it's been stuck there with tears.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He tries, careful not to prod where you don't want to be pushed. You blink quickly, teary eyes focused on his chest rather than his face, and he lets you avoid eye contact.

"No," You breathe, scrunching your eyes shut when fresh tears bud at their borders, "No, I just- I just want to.. sit. And cry."

"Okay," He nods, his curls bouncing around his head, freshly washed and formed, "Okay angel. Crying is.. good."

He echoes your vehement sentiments that he hears when he lets himself break down, your encouragements to get it out of his system when it tries escaping instead of holding it prisoner. Because if you don't cry now, you'll just cry more later.

"Yeah," You sniffle, nodding, and though it doesn't make you smile, the familiarity of the words BIlly reassures you with is comforting, "Yeah, crying is good."

"One more sip," He murmurs, tipping the mug back up to your mouth. You gulp down another mouthful, then he sets it on the table.

"Okay, angel." He rubs his hands against your back once more, tucking his chin down so that his cheek meets the crown of your head, "Let it out." He turns to kiss your head, tucking his nose against it and speaking into your scalp as he tugs you closer to him, "Cry, baby, I've got you."

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

It’s hard to be strong, sometimes.

“Nothing’s gonna fix me.”

Billy can do the heavy lifting. Can pull the freight with nothing but the sweat on his back to show for it.

“I’m jus’ gonna hurt forever.”

But this?

He isn’t strong enough for this.

“You aren’t,” he coos. “I won’t let you.”

A strained little sob hiccups out of Steve, and he simply shakes his head. The veins running up the length of his neck thump fast with his pulse, rising to the surface of his flushed skin. Tense and angry, like his eyebrows, pinched together harshly no matter how much Billy shushes and croons at him.

He’s got Steve’s face buried in his chest, shirt completely damp around the collar, and Steve’s fists tangles weakly at the sides.

Right now is probably the calmest he’s been all afternoon since this started.

Billy buries his nose in Steve’s hair and closes his eyes, arms wrapped softly around him. Grounding him in place. Smoothing carefully over his back, wary of pressing lest he cause another river of tears.

“Why does something that’s supposed to help hurt so bad?” Steve whines.

As much as Billy wants to squeeze him as tight as he can, he doesn’t. Instead settles one of his hands against Steve’s head, holding his cheek to his chest and gently stroking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” Billy admits. “Sometimes stuff doesn’t work, and you find out the shitty way.”

Steve huffs and makes a frustrated, pained sound into Billy’s shirt that’s followed by a warm wetness soaking into the fabric. Billy shushes into his hair again.

He wishes he could take the ache away. Wishes he could, even for just a moment, see what it feels like.

What could hurt so fucking bad that it has Steve crumbling into a mess of throaty sobs? Steve, who has been knocked around like a ragdoll and simply dusted himself off after?

“‘M gonna hurt forever,” he whines again.

Digs his forehead into Billy’s chest, shifting and rocking himself softly on top of him like he’s trying to physically shake the pain off, and Billy urges him to lie still with a gentle hand on his back.

“You won’t, it’ll pass.”

He tries to say it with certainty, but there’s a slight rasp in his voice to match the mist gathering in his eyes. Even when he gets Steve to fall still again.

“It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

A shaky sob leaves Steve’s lips as he curls his fingers tighter in Billy’s shirt at his sides.

“Everything,” he urges.

Presses himself down hard, muscles tense, like he’s trying to smother himself. Billy keeps his hand smoothing delicately up and down his back.

“I know, baby. Just breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Steve’s muscles shake from the effort, but he eventually listens. Inhales a shallow breath and sighs it out, drawing another one in as slow as he can manage with his elevated heart rate.

It takes a few moments, but his grip eventually eases again. He sniffles and nudges his face against Billy’s ruined shirt, huffing softly.

“It hurts,” he rasps, voice just above a whisper.

“I know, Stevie.” Billy noses a kiss into the brunet’s hair. “I know.”

They lay there like that for a while. Steve eventually tires himself out, nodding off on top of Billy even though he’s still crying. Too emotionally and physically exhausted to stay awake through the pain.

Billy just holds him. Lays his head back on the pillow once Steve’s breathing finally evens out and exhales a long sigh.

He might not be strong enough to fix Steve, because most medications aren’t even strong enough for that.

He supposes that being strong enough to love Steve will suffice, though.

Then at least he doesn’t have to suffer it alone.

[harringroveera]

Now Billy’s the one that got away

[chrisbitchtree]

Steve woke slowly, his eyes first registering the snow still falling heavily from the sky before anything else going on around him. They were in the middle of the biggest snowstorm that Chicago had endured in years.

Snowed into their house and forced to close down the small garage they co-owned for a few days, Steve and Billy had taken full advantage of the time to do nothing but watch movies, play board games, drink endless cups of hot chocolate, fuck, and sleep in late. They were having the time of their lives.

Steve turned, tearing his eyes away from the snow, only to notice that the bed next to him was empty. Sometimes, Billy, the earlier riser of the two of them, would go out onto their back deck for a few more minutes of quiet and a smoke before waking Steve for another busy day.

It was still dark out, and Steve next focused on the quiet rustling on the far side of the room. His eyes adjusting to the dark, he could see Billy yanking on a t-shirt, his jeans still undone, his hair a wild mess.

“Babe, what’s going on?” Steve called softly.

Billy turned, his eyes wide and scared. “I have to go, Harrington. My dad’s going to kill me. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I have to get home before he wakes up. Will you help me shovel my car out?”

Shit. Billy had made so much progress in the ten years since he’d last seen his father.

When he and Steve had first moved in together, Billy had woken like this all the time, panicked and sweating, shaking as he mumbled about how much trouble he was going to be in for sleeping at Steve’s house.

Over the years, with the help of a great therapist, the episodes had trickled off, and he hadn’t had one in a couple years now.

It was hard for Steve to watch Billy panic like this, but on the advice of Billy’s therapist, Steve approached him slowly, careful not to make him panic so bad he’d run, like the time Steve had to physically remove the keys from Billy’s hands as he attempted to get in his car and drive all the way back to Hawkins while not even fully awake.

“Hey, Billy,” he murmured, placing a gentle hand on Billy’s back and rubbing slow circles. “You’re ok. You’re at your house, in your room. You live with me now, and your dad can’t get you here. I promise.”

He could see the tension slowly drain from Billy’s muscles as he relaxed under Steve’s touch. His breathing started to slow, and Steve was able to guide him back to the bed.

Steve undid and slid off Billy’s jeans and pulled the blanket off of him before walking around his side of the bed and sliding in beside the other man.

Billy let Steve wrap his arms around him, spooning him from behind. They would talk about it in the morning, but for now, Steve was happy to hear Billy’s breathing even out. He kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes, letting Billy’s gentle warmth lull him back to sleep.

[hellfireclubmember]

ok so i have a request if that’s cool.

so steve harrington x reader where the reader has scars/stretch marks and is insecure about them and doesn’t want steve to see them? maybe like hurt/comfort.

thank u🤍🤍

*okay, so sorry this took so long. just a quick warning this is the first time i've written anything that wasn’t just supposed to be fluff so pls have mercy on me <3 oh and this turned out to b a lot longer than i thought it would be*

It was summer in Hawkins, Indiana. The season of trying to keep cool by any means. Which usually meant spending most days at the town pool. Steve wasn’t keen on cramming into a pool full of preteens and their parents, which is lucky for him considering the pool in his backyard. However, he had concocted a plan to spend his weekend with you and his friends at his family’s lake house. He now just had to convince you to come which was proving to be quite difficult. Everyone else was fully on board, eager to cool off and relax for a change. He didn’t plan on his girlfriend being the one fully against the idea, honestly his money was on Max being the most difficult to convince.

“Baby, come on. For once my plan is perfect.” He was sitting on your bed begging you to reconsider. “We barely spend anytime relaxing together. Its either we’re fighting disgusting monsters or we’re both busy working.” He tugged on your hand so you would turn to look at him.

Your willpower was crumbling. Saying no to Steve made you feel horrible but thinking of saying yes made your chest tighten. Spending the weekend at the lake with everyone sounded like a dream but that also meant having to wear less clothes than you’re really comfortable wearing.

You had known everyone for a really long time but you had officially been dating Steve for about 2 months. You had loved him for way more than that and now that you were together you didn’t want anything to ruin your relationship with him. Which meant keeping him at arm’s length about some things, things you had convinced yourself would make you undesirable to him.

“I’ll get on my knees right now.” He had your face in between both his hands now. “Please don’t make me but I swear I’ll do it if you ask.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the worst.” The grin on your face too wide for anyone to think you were being serious.

“You love me though, which is why you’re gonna say yes?” He said, waiting for you to cave and caving you were. There was really no point in continuing to say no to him. You both knew he was going to get what he wanted, he usually did.

You let out a sigh. “Fine, Steve. I’ll go” He immediately planted a hard kiss on your lips.

“You’re the best, baby. I swear you’ll have fun.” He kissed your forehead, then your nose and then your lips again. “If you don’t, we can hide all of Henderson’s clothes so he spends all weekend scavenger hunting.”  

You had said yes but that didn’t mean having to actually get into the lake. There was no way he could convince you of jumping into the lake. You would put your foot down this time for sure. You were steeling yourself; no amount of begging could sway you on this.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Steve, no. I’ll watch you from here, okay? I don’t want to get in the water.” You were sat on the dock behind the house. The sky was almost unnaturally clear, the sun beaming down at all of you as if angry with the Earth. There was a slight summer breeze making its way around everyone but nothing strong enough to keep anyone from sweating. Ultimately an ideal day to be exactly where you were. Dustin, Mike and Robin were splashing each other in the water whilst Max and Lucas were inside getting food. Your very annoying boyfriend standing in front of you, beautiful hairy chest on display, hands on his hips.

“But it’s so hot, you have to be melting by now.” He had been bugging you about this since you guys got out of the car.

“(Y/N), c’mon! When do we ever have free time where we’re not knocking on death’s door?” Robin yelled from inside the water.

“Yeah! Who knows how long we have before the next slimy freak emerges from the Earth to try and kill everyone?” Lucas said as he walked past you getting ready to dive in. Max walked behind him with a bag of chips in her hands, agreeing to Lucas’ statement.  

They’re right and you know they’re right. Maybe you could push past your insecurities just this once, let go and have fun. You looked up at Steve’s hopeful face again, reaching for his hand and playing with his fingers.

“You really want me to go in with you?”

Steve squatted down to be at eye level with you. Sometimes when he looked at you this closely he was overwhelmed with how beautiful one person could be. He thought himself the luckiest person in the world. “More than anything.”

You nodded, again giving in to your boyfriend’s every whim and got up to go change. Everyone cheered as you walked inside the house, you lifted your hand in the air, middle finger extended.

“I’ll wait for you right here!” Steve yelled out after you.

In the bathroom, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your body clad in your bathing suit. This was what you were dreading about this trip. Truth is you wanted to avoid Steve seeing the stretch marks that littered your skin on the sides of your lower half. The indented stripes of skin being the only thing your eyes could see when you looked in the mirror and you were terrified of that being the same for Steve, terrified he wouldn’t want you anymore.

You could feel tears starting to form in your eyes. You couldn’t do this; you couldn’t go out there like this. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you slid down to sit on the bathroom floor. You felt pathetic, silently crying in the bathroom whilst everyone was outside having a blast.

You didn’t notice how long you had been in there but Steve definitely did. He was starting to get worried so he got up from his seat and walked over to the bathroom, knocking softly. “Babe, are you okay?”

Hearing his voice made you snap your gaze to the locked door. You wiped the tears on your face and tried to sound as normal as possible. If Steve knew you were crying then he would definitely find a way into the bathroom

“Yeah, I’m okay.” As you said that a small involuntary sob escaped you, making your eyes widen.

“Are you crying?” Oh no, oh no, oh no. You heard the doorknob jiggle as Steve attempted to get in. “Sweetheart can you let me in please?”

You looked around the bathroom, eyes landing on someone’s towel near the shower. Quickly unhooking it and wrapping it around your hips. The skin on your lips felt dry as you took a deep breath in, an effort to prepare yourself to face your boyfriend. When you opened the door you couldn’t make eye contact with Steve. He was leaning on the door frame, concern written all over his face as he examined yours.

“You were crying.” His eyebrows furrowed. He walked into the bathroom with you and closed the door behind him. Steve’s arms immediately wrapping around your body in a tight hug. “Why were you crying?” He spoke into your hair.

The second the words left his lips fresh tears began streaming down your face. Steve rubbed small circles on your back, giving you time to just cry in his arms. Every few minutes he would whisper “I love you” in your ear. You both stayed in that position until he heard your breathing start to even out. Steve pulled away wanting to look you in the eyes. You tried looking at everything else but him. Making Steve lean everywhere your eyes went. When you finally quit trying to evade him and made eye contact, he gave you a comforting smile.

“Can you tell me what made you this upset?” He was holding your hand as he spoke, rubbing your knuckles gently with his thumb. You almost started crying again just looking at him, his perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect skin.

“Stevie, I just” You breathed in slowly to keep any tears at bay. “I just love you so much.”

“That’s no reason to cry.” His voice was soft, his words coated with care.

“You’re so perfect and I want to be perfect for you too.” Sniffle. “And I’m not, I’m just not.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, opting to look at the floor instead.

Steve was so confused. He couldn’t think of any reason why you would say that. When he looked at you sometimes he had to physically pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming you up. To him you were as perfect as any person could be. He adored you. “Why would do you think that?”

“Because it’s true, Steve. I’m not pretty enough to be with you, I’m covered in stretch marks, and you’re perfect.” A few more tears slipped from your eyes but you quickly wiped them off. If you started crying again you don’t know when you would stop.

Steve finally understood why you were so against this trip and why you were so adamant about not getting in the water. “Baby, look at me.” He lifted your head up so you could look him in the eye again. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. Seriously, you’re a knockout, a ten, a fox.” He saw a whisper of a smile on your face as he kept talking. “I’m serious. If I could worship your body all day I would.” His eyes roamed every inch of your face. He leaned in and gave you quick kiss. “You don’t have to get into the water, I’ll sit with you inside or outside or wherever you want. I just want to spend time with you because you’re my favorite person.” You fully smiled now, hearing him speak sticky sweet words with his whole chest. You loved Steve Harrington, he loved you and that was enough.

You shook your head. “I’ll get in.” You hesitated before taking the towel off. Steve took a few steps back to look at you. You held your breath as you watched his eyes scan your body.

The tall boy was momentarily at a loss for words, which for Steve was a first. He couldn’t believe you could be so insecure when you looked like this. “(y/n)” he put his hand on your hip. “You’re so hot.”

“Yeah?” You beamed up at him.

“Hell yeah.” He caught your lips in a needy kiss. “Maybe we should spend some time inside first?” Steve spoke with a lazy smirk on his face.

You laughed. “Tempting but we’re on duty, Stevie. Always the babysitters.”

[katyawriteswhump]

(i'm still) watching you—harringrove microfic

my first attempt at harringrove and probably totally weird like my usual shit, so… yeah, nervous. but I love prompts/challenges too much to resist… Pls be kind 🙂 

WC: 914. For @harringrovemicrofic prompt, green (I also got a passing mention of Jason Carver in for the additional prompt.)

CW: None. Tags: angst, pining, chronic illness (Fibro/Chronic fatigue), enemies to lovers, h/c, no Upside Down AU, slightly soft Billy? Rating: M.

…

Steve hated sitting in the stands watching the Tigers win without him.

Hargrove rained all over the hoop, right until the full-time whistle ripped through Steve’s skull. Simultaneously, Billy ripped his vest off—shouting, thudding his chest, scanning the crowd.

His crazily soft-blue eyes rested on Steve. That smug grin faltered, and Steve’s heart gave a crazy little squeeze.

Billy’s attention snapped away. His teammates carried him on a lap of victory, and Steve shaded his eyes. Too fucking much. Since he’d got sick, the doctors had droned on about Steve having to pace himself. Today, that’d been a bust—all for the torture of watching Hargrove play.

Even though Steve hated him.

And he’d chew on that image of shirtless Billy for goddamn weeks.

“Stop bawling, Harrington.” Steve startled, squinted into the suddenly too-bright light. Tommy H waggled a stuffed tiger in front of his nose: “You can be team mascot. This one’s got even less backbone than you.”

“Jesus, I’m gonna punch your stupid face in!”

Steve pushed himself up. Despite his dumb threat, it took all his strength to stumble away. Halfway to the exit, he collapsed onto a seat, slumping forward with his head in his hands. The crowd stomped by, sending shockwaves through his aching bones. Nobody offered to help. Probably figured he’d bite their heads off…

A hand landed on his shoulder. “You okay?” asked Billy.

WTF? Steve flinched away. Up close, he couldn’t handle those stupidly long lashes and gorgeous eyes. “M’fine.”

“Want a ride?”

“You leaving already?” Steve gawked at Billy’s pecs. “Guess there’s only so much showboating even your fat ego can take.”

Billy arched his brow. “I’m sick of this shit. Your ex-teammates are fucking losers, you know that?”

Uh… Yeah?

“Whatever, dude. I’m leaving with Nance.” Steve had just spotted her with freshman golden-boy, Jason Carver, scribbling madly in her notebook.

“She’s writing an essay on that asshole. Couldn’t bag me. Seriously, I need space. Figured you might too.”

Space with me? “Jesus, you still never stop talking! You hate me. What’s your game?”

Billy shrugged. “I don’t hate you, man. It genuinely sucks you had to be benched. Don’t have to believe me, but I actually miss you.”

Miss humiliating me? Miss me rubbing my ass against you while you shoved me around!?! Guess I enjoyed touching you as much as I hated you. I mean, uh, I STILL hate you…

“I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Hargrove.”

“Not offering fucking sympathy.”

Steve’s heart repeated that crazy squeeze. He’d grabbed the hem of Billy’s green shorts before he knew it.

Don’t leave. I honestly can’t get up without help right now. Won’t ask for help, either.

Billy harrumphed vaguely, casually offered a hand. Steve clasped it—since when did he dig slippery palms?—let Billy draw him up and sling an arm around him. Even with Billy’s help, the effort of walking consumed Steve completely till he sank into the Camaro.

Billy winked at him from the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry, I’ll go gentle.”

“Jesus, I’m not gonna break.”

“You wanna go home?”

Yeah, I totally should. “No fucking way. Anywhere but this dump.”  

With minimal wheelspin, Billy tore from the school grounds. He didn’t play loud music. They didn’t talk much either. Seemed Billy did occasionally shut up. Only Steve fizzing nerves—WTF AM I DOING?—kept him awake until Billy slammed to a halt.

Steve blinked. “Where are we?”

“One of the few places in this shithole that’s not a shithole.” Billy hurried around and helped Steve from the car.

“I’m not a fucking princess,” Steve bitched.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

“Screw you.” Steve’s glare melted into a laugh that he almost felt.

They’d arrived somewhere in the hills, which smelled of spring grasses. Steve slipped from Billy’s warm grasp—not without a dumbass pang—lay flat on the soft turf. Beyond the trickle of a stream, it was so quiet, he dozed almost instantly.

Then, through the blur of his lashes, he spotted Billy stripping his shorts. Christ, that ass!

Billy headed for the stream. His smirk was as mind-blowing as his body. “I skipped showers.”

“Fucking show-boater.” Steve snickered.

He watched Billy wade thigh deep, splash sparkling droplets over that lick-able, lithely muscled torso. He wished he could watch this a billion times over, ached to join Billy, then his eyelids grew too heavy, his fatigue winning, and… Shit!

Deep inside, something snapped. He slung an arm across his face and cried, drifted, then cried again, shamelessly sniffling. A brush against his arm stirred him. Billy lay stretched beside him, towel around his waist, chin rested on a fist.

“Tears are cathartic, huh?”

Steve rolled to full-on sneer at Billy. Ended up fixed on Billy’s lush mouth, fretting his own lower lip. “Quit mocking me.”

“I’m not. Tears help. Apart from when they’re too damn painful. You don’t have to say which those are.”

Billy reached out, as if to push hair from Steve’s damp eyes, then hesitated. Steve grabbed Billy’s fingers, like he’d grabbed for his shorts. He barely breathed. He clasped Billy’s stream-chilled knuckles to his own burning face, like his life depended on it.

“Meant what I said about missing you,” murmured Billy, as Steve drowned in those adoring eyes. “None of those dicks are half-decent rivals. It sucks we never got a chance to work through that tension and…"

This is a dream, right?

Billy’s fingers slid up through Steve’s hair, gently drawing him closer, and they tumbled into a kiss.

[lostlimerence]

The Youngest

CW: discussions of predatory behaviour.

He’s the youngest of the three, a fact that is all too easy to forget.

Sometimes, when he’s reminded, it’s something mundane, like when the boys have a disagreement and Steve, to ease the tension, jokingly ruffles Billy’s blond curls with some quip like, “respect your elders,” as Eddie nods sagely with a barely suppressed smile.

Other times, it catches him off guard, like the time he’d passed Billy a cup of coffee, “black,” (like he’d ordered) then watched, not without amusement, as the boy’s nose had crinkled in disgust at the first sip.

But then, far too often he’s reminded in moments like this. When the kid’s cornered by some self-serving adult.

This time it’s Karen Wheeler.

He watches as she crowds Billy, manicured talons glinting as she strokes the length of his arm. His back is pressed up against the Camaro, knuckles white where he grips the handle. When he sees a predator cornering it’s prey on Tv Jim’s skin pricks, just like it is now. He’s caught the live show and Billy sure as hell isn’t the predator.

Jim pushes himself out of his car, takes a breath, and tries to swallow the acrid anger rising in his gut. He needs to be calm. Diffuse and extract. He repeats this mantra as he strolls over.

“Billy!” the kid starts hard and turns, anxiety clearly coursing his veins. Karen just looks up, clear irritation spreading across her face.

Jim hates her.

He forces a grin “hey kid,” he shouts, flicking a pointed stare at Karen as he does, before focusing on Billy “why you still here? Pool’s shut, isn’t it?” Billy looks a little perplexed as he replies, “yeah, I was just, er, leaving, right Mrs Wheeler?” he turns back to the woman, who has at least taken a few steps back. She doesn’t look even slightly phased as she corrects him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “we’ve spoken about this Billy, call me Karen,” as she bats her eyes in a way that makes Jim want to knock her out.

It’s an image he allows himself as he closes in on them, stretches his grin further and says “with all due respect Mrs Wheeler surely Nancy and Mike are home by now,” she has the audacity to puff up at the dig “I was just about to head home Hopper. The kids will be fine for a bit,” Jim keeps smiling, “ of course Mrs Wheeler, you get back to your kids and I’ll take care of this one.” he says it in what El has affectionately dubbed his ‘Chief Voice.’ It leaves no room for argument. With a slight huff Karen shrinks back, sends one final sweeping glance at Billy, before retreating to the safety of her car with a sharp “Goodnight.”

He watches pointedly as she drives out of the car park, then turns to Billy. He’s strung tight, trembling and pale. Jim braces himself, ready for an argument as he speaks“you aren’t driving anywhere like this kid, get in my car,” he’s surprised when Billy complies. Jim follows suit, puts the car in drive, there’s no destination for now.

Billy’s shaking hands curl into fists as the car pulls out onto the road. Jim waits, gives the kid time to process. The silence is long but when the words come they’re seething “I was fucking fine,” he hisses, “I don’t need your fucking help,” he’s gritting his teeth, snarling like an animal, hackles raised. Jim won’t rise to it, he knows this is the ‘fight’ part of Billy’s wiring, something he calls upon constantly. Instead he simply and calmly states “no you weren’t, and yes you do,” eyes fixed firmly on the road.

His periphery catches the lock and load in the kid’s throat as Billy’s teeth grit impossibly harder, he twists in his seat and pulls the trigger as he roars “What the fuck do you know?!” it’s fucking loud, splits Jim’s ears, but he keeps his composure, because Billy is a fucking kid and he’s a fucking adult. Plus, Jim knows he’s being pushed for a reaction, violence is the only language Billy knows especially when it comes to adult men, and Jim will never speak it, no matter how hard Billy tries to make him.

He waits for a beat, listens to the kids laboured breathing before speaking deliberately and slowly,“she’s a predator Billy, old enough to be your mother. Hell, her daughter is older than you. She shouldn’t be anywhere near you,” he glances over, sees a little bit of the anger dissipate as Billy retorts “yea I know that,” he leaves a beat before adding “you old fucker,” and Jim does nothing but raise a brow, refusing to take the bait. He lets Billy stew until the silence becomes too much and the kid continues just to break it, “it doesn’t fuckin matter, it’s always like this, I know how to get away, it’s fuckin fine, I don’t need you,” he spits the word need like it’s poison on his tongue.

Jim gets it, he knows this visceral reaction to offered help is nothing but Billy’s innate survival instincts kicking in. The kid has never been able to trust an adult to protect him, never been allowed to need someone like that. He has no logical basis that would allow him to just trust Jim. But Jim is a stubborn ‘old fucker,’ determined to become someone Billy can trust. But to build that trust Jim needs to get through to the kid, and to do that, he knows needs to push, needs Billy to accept some sort of help. So that’s what he does, he pushes a bit, calm but firm “what were you gonna do Billy?” silence hangs, “to get yourself outta there?”

It takes a while but eventually Billy frowns and mumbles “dunno, but I’d have done something,” and Jim needs to drive his point home so he takes a bit of a risk and asks “would you have shoved her? Hit her?” and that gets a reaction, the kid shoots up straight-backed with an emphatic and horrified ‘No,’ and Jim isn’t proud of it but he has to keep pushing so he says pointedly “then what would you have done?” and the only answer he gets is an exasperated “ugh. I don’t. Fucking. Know.” the silence that settles is suffocating.

When Jim breaks it he treads carefully, speaks slowly as he chooses his words, “exactly Billy, you don’t know. Unfortunately, that isn’t a situation, though by god I wish it was, where I could’ve just arrested her. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong, it just means our justice system is shite,” Billy flashes a brief smile at that “ so because I can’t just cuff her, we need an alternative plan.” Billy opens his mouth, likely to protest again, but Jim soldiers on “This is what is going to happen, you’re going to give me your work schedule. I’m going to give you one of my kids walkie talkie things, because it can reach my radio. If not me, someone from my team will be in the car park for every late finish and you are going to contact me with the talkie thing if you end up in a situation where you need me to come and get you immediately, Ok?” Billy doesn’t speak straight away, stares out into the darkness before answering in a voice that cracks just a little “fine, whatever old man.”

With that Jim lets the tension bleed from his body. He needs to speak to Billy more, needs to sit him down properly, have repeated conversations with the kid about personal safety, consent, hell maybe even stranger danger with how reckless he can be sometimes. But that is for another time, now he needs to get him somewhere safe, so he just says “great! Now where am I taking you?” Billy shakes himself a little “just home,” Jim questions that, pointedly glancing at his still slightly trembling hands, “is that wise right now?” Billy frowns a little but changes his answer, “Munson’s” Jim smiles. Eddie is so well attuned to Billy, he knows the kid will get nothing but comfort as soon as Eddie lays eyes on him (he also knows Steve will be with them in a flash).

He makes the short drive to Eddies, cuts the engine outside and turns to face Billy, “I’ll get you a talkie and give it to Eddie or Steve tomorrow ok?” Billy stares at him shocked. He looks so young, so lost, like he can’t comprehend the idea that Jim isn’t just all talk, it takes a while but he gets a quiet “yea ok,” before the kid is suddenly yanking the door open, turning to slam it shut with a brief muffled “thanks old man” slipping through the gap, before he’s off practically sprinting to the door.

Jim chuckles to himself, at least it’s better than ‘old fucker,’ he waits for Eddie to open the door, sees the blatant look of concern as he gently slides a hand into Billy’s and pulls him across the threshold, just catches a glance of Steve who’s staring worriedly at his cop car before the door swings shut. Jim sighs starts his engine and heads home.

Billy’s the youngest, the most vulnerable of the three, sometimes it’s easy to forget.

Sometimes it’s vital to remember.

[bullsandthebones]

"Car Lights" Pt2

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Fem Aligned DNI

Content Warning: Homophobia, Bullying, Rumor Spreading, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Mention of Cigarettes, Descriptions of Panic Attacks, We also have Hurt/Comfort that I didn't mean to add but yk, Reader gets beat to shit, Toxic Love, Slurs Mentioned

you did this to yourselves. repent for your sins however you deem fit. also I had just been watching A Court of Fey & Flowers before this so the wording has become regal, I apologize. I hurt myself with this as well so have fun.

Three weeks. Three full weeks had passed before you went back to school.

A fateful Friday, the day of your return, was also the day of an important basketball game, one that determined if the team would go to the state championships. You returned to school on that day in hopes that the game would overshadow your existence.

You hoped that not even he would notice, you hoped that he would be too focused on practicing to be aware of your presence.

Three weeks of letters being left wedged in your car door. Three weeks of gifts dropped off at your door in the dead of night. Three weeks of calls, three weeks of cigarette butts littering your garden, three weeks of rocks thrown at your window. Three weeks of this, three weeks of that. Three weeks that told you he was going to notice no matter what.

Your arrival was rather unceremonious. Your car sputtered into the parking lot and you slammed the door shut as you walked up to the entrance of the school. You speed walk past a group of teens chattering about in the lot, keeping your head down.

You had almost made it to your first class successfully, but you heard someone call your name before you could slip into the door. Panic arose in your chest, clutching your lungs and your heart, making you light headed and wobbly. Your breathing quickened as you slowly turned around.

A sea of eyes looked at you and the whispers began. A glance here, a cupped hand to an ear there, they all knew.

And they were all staring at you.

Your skin felt feverish, but you felt a chill run down your spine. You were freezing cold but burning hot at the same time. Your hands begin shaking as your eyes dart around in an attempt to find who called your name.

When they land on him, confusion and apprehension fills you. The former proclaimed "King of Hawkins" was rapidly approaching you, a nervous look in his eyes as he realized his mistake in calling out your name. He quickly grabbed onto your arm and led you to an empty classroom, flipping off anyone who made remarks about the scene.

Once he closed the door, he let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get everyone's attention."

Steve rests a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you, but you flinch away. You've heard about what they do to people like you in towns like this. He quickly retracts his hand and holds both of them up in surrender, not wanting to freak you out.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, we're on the same team." He gestures vaguely as he speaks, but the way he says it hints at something more than him being an ally.

Your eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. Steve Harrington, a queer? You motion for him to continue speaking as you relax your tense stance a bit.

"I thought you might-", he pauses, thinking carefully about his next choice of words, " I thought you might want a friend. I-in a situation like this, you know?"

You regard Steve carefully. His posture, his facial expression, his everything. He feels genuine, and for the first time in three weeks, you relax your whole body, almost collapsing into him. Steve catches your body, helping you stay upright.

"Yes, I.. I would like a friend." Your voice was raspy and broken due to lack of use. Steve just holds you as you attempt to regain your composure and clear your thoughts. He seems awkward but not willing to pull away, as though if he moves you'll break and crumble into millions of pieces. Ones that, try as he might, he could never put back together, not correctly. Not perfectly. Not you.

Unbeknownst to you, or to Steve, a certain blonde haired boy watched you get dragged off into that classroom.

×××

Rumors had spread about the school like wildfire.

"I heard that Steve Harrington kissed that little queer guy!"

"Well I heard they hooked up in the bathroom!"

"No way, Steve Harrington wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole!"

They all got back to you by the end of the day, Steve reassured you that rumors wouldn't deter him from sticking by your side. "I've been through worse.", was what he told you, a scary look in his eyes as he said it.

You had said some goodbyes at the entrance of the school before you both parted ways to your respective vehicles. You had majorly relaxed since the beginning of the day, no one dared to touch you with Steve by your side, and most people were too excited by the game to care. Even as the sky began to darken and the crisp autumn weather grew colder for the night, you were almost at ease.

Almost.

Hairs pricked at the nape of your neck, you felt like you were being watched as you opened your car door. Most people weren't in the lot, opting to stay and get ready for the game, so no one should be watching you. You gulp, attempting to push the feeling down as you clamber into the car.

Before you can fully sit down, a hand grabs your arm roughly and pulls you out. You fall to the ground with the force, looking up to see the one guy you had been avoiding for weeks. "Billy, please-"

Loud, howling laughter surrounds you as the rest of the basketball team steps out of seemingly nowhere. You knew what was coming, you just weren't expecting it from him.

A glimpse of pain flashes over Billy's eyes, before turning to rage. You see him wind back his leg, not even registering the blow to your side until he does it again. Cheering sounds from all around you, the situation feeling so surreal. Billy kicks and stomps you, shouting nonsense and slurs. You don't hear it, you're focused on the feeling of blood leaking from your nose and he breaks it with his fist. You don't attempt to fight back, not seeing the use in it, you can't win a fight against Billy. You could never fight him in the first place.

You accepted the beating, knowing that, unfortunately, your feelings towards the boy couldn't change.

You loved him. You loved him even though each kick to your ribs made a sharp cracking sound. You loved him even though blood was leaking from your broken nose down to your busted lips. You loved him even though you could taste blood in your throat and in your mouth.

When the jeering quieted down and the jocks felt as though the show had gotten boring, the reminder of your place in society had come to a stop. They dispersed without even a second thought, not even a glance back at you, at your body that had curled up in on itself as soon as they started leaving.

Billy stood back for a moment, a look of pure disgust and remorse adorning his features. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but when he saw you tremble and cough up blood, a tear fell from his eye and he briskly walked back into the school.

Leaving you there.

Alone.

On the freezing cold concrete that welcomed you as you lost any sort of consciousness that you were desperately clinging onto.

[simpforfandoms]

can you please write a one shot based on your head canon that we walked in on billy getting yelled at by his dad

Of course! Hope you enjoy this! Also I made the reader a Wheeler, it fit for the story.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, swearing

Word Count: 1.2K

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Summary: Request

part 2

Disclaimer: As a victim of parental abuse, I am not romanticizing abuse. If you are experiencing any type of abuse, you may be triggered by this. If you or someone you know is experiencing abuse please get help! You are not alone. My DMS is always open.

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

masterlist

You had been dating Billy for 2 months. You met him at one of your sister's parties. Of course, you've heard of him before. Who hasn't? He was the king of the school. He probably slept with every girl within a 10-mile radius. Your sister had warned you about him. But then again you didn’t trust her judgment. She dated Steve Harrington for crying out loud! Anyways, Billy came up to you. He tried to convince you to sleep with him upstairs. Instead, you took him upstairs to play on your new Nintendo gaming system. You two just hit it off from there.

You didn't really know anything about his personal life. You knew he moved to Hawkins from California. You knew he had a stepsister, Max. Other than the basics, you knew nothing about him. After school, you would hang out with him. He would pick you and his step-sister up. Then he would go to his house, walk Max in, come back to his camero and take you to some place. Billy always told you to stay in his car when he took Max inside. You didn't really know why. You just assumed that his dad and step-mom didn't know about you or he was embarrassed by you. Whatever. You were fine. Until one day he took longer than usual to get back to the car

...

It was a normal day. You walked over to Billy's car with him and waited for Max to get into the car. But she was nowhere to be found.

"Where the fuck is she, We're gonna be late!"

"Calm down she's just over there talking to that guy."

You point to where she is. Billy starts the car and drives over to where she is. Max seems to be telling the guy to 'fuck off'. When she notices Billy's car, she walks away from the guy and gets in the car.

"Who was that?" Billy asks her frustrated.

"No one"

"Was he causing you trouble"

"No"

"Stay away from him"

"Shut up, you can't control who I hang around. I don't ask you who this chick is. You haven't even introduced me to her!" Max exclaims.

You suppose she's right. You haven't introduced yourself to her. You've been riding home with her for the past 8 weeks and she doesn't even know your name! You turn to introduce yourself, but before you could Billy yells back at her.

"Shut the fuck up dipshit. I don't have to tell you shit. Be lucky I even give you a ride home, I could make you walk home!"

The rest of the car ride was filled with awkward silence. When Billy turned onto their street, you decided to talk.

"Hi, I'm y/n, nice to meet you" You turn to Max

"I know" Max replies

"Don't be fucking rude"

With that Billy parks. Max storms out of the car, grabs her skateboard and takes off.

"Don't slam my door!" Billy says as he goes inside the house.

Well, that was eventful. You can't believe that happened. You've never seen Billy so mad. He's always been kind to you. You checked the time.

4:45

That's odd. It's been 15 minutes. It usually doesn't take more than 5 minutes for Billy to come back. Should you go inside to make sure everything is okay? Technically he didn't tell you to stay in his car this time. What if you just go inside to have a quick peek? Yeah, that will be fine.

It took you serval minutes to gather the courage to walk up to the house. The door was wide open. Billy must've forgotten to shut it. The house is empty. It's quiet, except for the yelling upstairs. Should you go upstairs? Billy could be in trouble. After all, you came in to make sure everything was okay. You quietly walk up the stairs. The voices get louder.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You're in charge of Max. You have to get her home safely. Where the fuck is she? She's not here, I can tell you that, Billy! WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!" Billy is pinned up against the wall as a man, whom you assume is his father yells at him.

No wonder he doesn't talk about his dad. You're just watching the scene unfold. Suddenly Billy's father raises his to hit Billy. That's when you decide to speak.

"Hello, I'm y/n. You must be Billy's dad. Nice to meet you." You say.

Billy's dad drops Billy and turns to look at you. You can feel Billy's eyes on you. He never wanted you to interact with his father. He watches. Waiting for his father's reaction.

"I am. What are you doing here?" His father asks with a fake smile.

"I just came here to inform you that Max is at my house with my brother. The door was wide open and I heard voices coming upstairs. I hope you don't mind that I walked in"

"Not all. Thank you for informing me. Billy why don't you go with this young lady to retrieve Max."

Billy just stood still. He didn't know how to react. He was worried. His father was upset by you but didn't show it.

"Yes sir" Billy says as he moves toward you.

He places his shaky hand on your back and guides you back to his car. You two sit in silence for a minute. Til you break the silence.

"You want to talk about it?" you ask, sightly above a whisper

"What the hell were you thinking? You know to stay in the car. My dad couldve-" He let out a shaky breathe.

"You could've gotten hurt y/n." He says not able to look at you.

You grab his cheek and turn him towards you. You two just stare at each other for a moment. You lightly kiss his chapped lips.

"I'm sorry" you whisper

"Just don't do it again"

"I won't, I promise."

It pains you to say that. All you want to do is protect him, but you have to put his worries at ease. He looks so vulnerable and weak. God, it breaks your heart to see him like this. He turns his head back to the road and starts his car. You head to your house to get Max.

"I'll go in and get her" you say

"Y/n don't mention this to her"

"I won't"

You give him a quick kiss and say good bye. You walked up to your door. Your little brother, Mike, answers the door.

"I thought you weren't gonna be back til later."

"Plans change" You shrug "Can you tell Max to come out please?"

"Why?"

"I don't have to tell you"

He rolls his eyes and calls for Max. Max walks upstairs and looks at you.

"Oh my god what now?"

"I promised your dad you would go home"

Max looks out the door and sees billy in his car waiting for her.

"I don't want to be around him."

"I know but just please go home with him. You don't have to say anything to him."

"Ugh fine" She says as she grabs her skateboard and walks out.

You wave to Billy and go inside. But Mike stops you from going upstairs .

"So you and Billy?"

“Yeah and what about it?”

“He’s a dick”

“So are you”

Then you walk upstairs to your room. You try not to think about what you saw, what will happen to billy, and if he’s okay. But you just can’t stop worrying about it. You know Billy’s a big man and he can protect himself. But when his dad had him pinned against the wall, about to hit him, Billy looked like he was ready to take the hit. You wonder why he doesn’t want Max to know. She should know so she doesn’t sneak out anymore? Right? Then again she is just a child. Why is this so confusing? You just want Billy to be safe.

tap

tap

[myriad-writings]

right down the line - b.h.

-billy hargrove x reader

-1.8k words

-requested by @notartemis777 ! okay class today we are pretending that billy and max get along because neil is the common enemy :)

-warnings: mentions of abuse, severely out of character billy

Three hours ago, the soft tap of a ladder against your windowsill was followed by the much heavier thump of none other than Billy Hargrove landing on your bedroom floor. You had jumped at the sound until you recognized his form on the ground and moved towards him to help him up. 

He uncurled himself from the rolled-up position he had assumed under your window and accepted your hand to stand on his feet. It took a second to get him to look at you, though you knew what you were going to see. After some coaxing and bringing him to sit on the edge of your bed, he allowed you to gently examine the bruise slowly blooming over his right eye and cheekbone, as well as the blood that had dried over the corner of his lip. 

“Oh, Billy,” you cooed, and his eyes averted your face and instead focused on the ring he had been twisting on his middle finger ever since he sat down. Like usual, he said nothing. He was always pretty silent after fights with Neil, you had learned. 

So you got to cleaning him up. Some disinfectant for his cut lip, some ice, the whole nine yards. Billy sat there patiently the whole time that you fussed over him, accustomed to the routine the two of you had developed from all the times he snuck in after a nasty bout with his father. After all the first aid stuff, three hours after the initial tumble, Billy’s shoulders had finally lost their tension and the two of you could be found laying together in bed to decompress.

That brings you to now. 

“So, do you finally want to talk about the fight?” You ask him while braiding and unbraiding one of his loose locks of hair, watching his relaxed face while his head lay in your lap. 

Billy’s eyes open with a heavy sigh, and you let his hair fall from your fingers as he uses an elbow to perch himself up to face you. “It’s not like it was anything different than usual. I was covering for Max, because she wanted to go hang out with her friends. Something about a roleplaying board game?” He looks at you, half expectanting you to know what he was trying to come up with. 

“D&D?” You offer, and he nods. 

“Yeah, that shit.” He waves a hand in the air before continuing. “But Neil had a bug up his ass tonight, demanded to know where she was. I said I didn’t know, because I didn’t want him to pull up at Wheeler house like a fuckin’ psychopath.” He pauses, then says a little quieter. “So I got the psychopath treatment.” 

You hum comfortingly and lean forward to press a comforting kiss to his forehead. “I’m sure she appreciates you covering for her.” You whisper, and he presses his lips together in a dry smile. “Was she home when you left?” 

“No, no, I thought I would see her on the drive over but I didn’t. Figured if she was still at the Wheeler’s this late then she would stay the night.” He explains, and the logic gives both of you comfort for about five more minutes, until there’s another noise outside your window. It’s left slightly open from Billy’s oh-so-graceful entrance, and he’s up in half a second to investigate the potential threat from outside. 

You get up as well, and push at his shoulder so he’s seated on the bed again. “Relax, it’s probably just a stray cat at the bottom of the ladder.” Still, you move to the window to peek out at the bottom, and you’re shocked to see red hair, and an even brighter red hoodie, halfway up to your window. You push the bottom open the rest of the way and stick your head out. “Max?” 

Billy gets up behind you as soon as Max looks up to meet your eyes in the dim light that comes from your bedroom. “Jesus christ, Max, get up here.” He urges from your side, helping her in while you stand back and out of the way. The two of you share a look while Max sits cross legged on the floor, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. 

“Hey, what happened?” You sit in front of her while Billy shuts the window and stands awkwardly nearby. She’s quiet except for sniffling, so you reach forward to move her hair away from her face. She lets you, but the action reveals a slightly faded but still very fresh red mark taking up the junction of her cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, and she turns her head away from your hand, just like Billy used to before he got used to your gentle touch. “Let me get some more ice.”

You push yourself up to stand and catch sight of Billy’s faraway gaze, eyes looking somewhere that you can’t see. Probably seeing red at the idea of Neil putting his hands on Max, and you can’t really blame him. Calling his attention back to the present with a hand on his cheek, you whisper to him. “Just talk to her.” 

He nods and you wait for him to take your seat in front of her before heading downstairs for an ice pack. You take your time, getting a cloth to wrap the ice pack in and a few bandaids from the downstairs bathroom cabinet. You didn’t see any open cuts or scratches on her but it would be better to have them if she needed them. You pass by the laundry room then stop, backtracking to go in and grab some comfy clothes of yours out of the dryer for her to change into. It would be more comfortable than whatever she biked here in. 

Before you push your bedroom door back open, you pause to hear the soft conversation taking place on the other side. 

“Why didn’t you call me here?” Billy’s voice comes out softly. 

“I don’t know. Didn’t think, I just knew you would be here and I didn’t wanna be there,” you heard Max mumble, she sounds embarrassed. “‘M sorry.” 

You hear shifting, probably Billy moving closer to her. “It’s okay, I didn’t know you were goin’ home. Thought you were staying overnight with your friends. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” There’s a pause before Billy speaks again. “D’you wanna stay the night here? With us?” 

Max doesn’t say anything right away, but the quiet “thanks” that you hear cinforms that she had said yes. Quietly, you finally push open the door and offer a soft smile when both siblings turn to look up at you from their spots on the floor. “I got you an ice pack, and some clothes. Something easier to sleep in.” You hold up the items to show her, and she gives you a small, yet grateful smiles 

-

After you get Max patched up, like you had with Billy, she comes out of the bathroom and back into your room in the clothes you lent her. You and Billy are sitting together on the bed, him behind you with his chin resting in the spot where your neck and shoulder meet and one arm half secured around your waist. 

“Hey, how do you feel now?” You ask her, patting the open spot on your comforter beside you. She takes a seat, legs tucked to the side and leaning sideways on her arm. 

“Better,” she says with a little nod, looking shier than she normally does. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I let him in so obviously I’ll let you in, too.” You grin and jab your thumb behind you where Billy sits clinging to your back, making Max giggle. Billy pinches your side and causes you to yelp, which turns into a fit of giggles along with Max’s. You fall forward out of Billy’s grasp and he lets you, unable to hold back the smile that finds its way onto his face as he watches you two lose your breath over laughing at each other. 

The rest of the night is filled with antics like that. You ended up putting on some music to show Max, which became an impromptu dance party. Billy initially refused to join, saying he wasn’t going to dance to Madonna, until both you and his sister pouted at him, so he was forced to join. The sight of him being forced to dance (if you could call the half-assed movement dancing) to such peppy, girly music was so amusing that you wish you had a camera to capture it. Then there was a brief comic tour when Max caught sight of a Wonder Woman volume sitting on your bookshelf, and Billy was grateful to be allowed to sit back and chill again. 

Max fell asleep on the far right side of your bed while the two of you were laying on your stomachs and flipping through the pages of the comics you had pulled out. You realized she had been silent for a little too long, and carefully pulled the volume that was held loosely in her hand so you could put them all away. After flicking off the overhead light and placing the comics back where they belong in your bookshelf, you return to Billy’s side in bed, where he had sat leaning back against the headboard and watching you move around the room in the dim lamplight from your nightstand. 

“Thank you for letting her stay here tonight, I’ll make it up to you,” he mumbles against your skin before pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder and tugging you closer to fall into his side. 

“You don’t have to, it’s nice having both of you here. I wish it was under better circumstances though.” You shut your eyes in the comfort of the warmth that seems to radiate off Billy. “I hope she’ll be okay in the morning.” 

He gives a small hum of agreement before glancing over at where Max was fast asleep. “I think she’ll be alright. I’ll take y’all to lunch tomorrow before I bring her home. Neil shouldn’t be back until later tomorrow night.” You peer back up at him with a tiny smile. 

“Look at you, being a good brother and boyfriend and shit,” you tease. 

He chuckles and gives you a soft squeeze. “Gotta lookout for my girls. Especially because they lookout for me.” 

“Your girls?” You giggle at him, and he responds with a soft ‘shut up,’ before reaching over to turn off the lamp on your bedside table. “Goodnight, babe.” You yawn and snuggle into his side impossibly further before dozing off almost immediately, tired out from the night your guests had given you.