#billy hargrove x gn!reader

[bookshelf-dust]

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?” 

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make. 

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes. 

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. ���This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————

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

[unamused-boss]

The Player and The Cheerleader

Billy Hargrove x Cheerleader Reader

Summary: All Billy thinks cheerleading is that's it's just flips and splits. The view changes when he has a run in with a certain Hawkins High School cheerleader.

...........................................................................

Billy didn't care for anyone by any means. Either it be in Indiana or California. If he doesn't see you as someone worth his time then he didn't talk to you or give you the time of day. One of those groups in specific were cheerleaders. From his point of view they were only pretty girls to look at, that's pretty much how everyone treated the cheerleader at this point. Pretty things to look at.

The cheerleaders sometimes had to share the gym with the basketball team. Which did peeve some the guys on the team but as long as the cheerleaders were pretty they could handle it. But there was one odd ball on the cheer team, the captain. Always mouthing off the players when they got to close to the cheerleaders or a ball got to close to hitting one of them.

"Hey! Shit for brains!" A voice can be heard from then other side of the gym. "I thought the point of the game was to get the ball in the basket?!"

"Jeezu..." Tommy huffed. "Can you seriously be pissed about the same thing every time? It's just a ball." He answered to you. Clearly tired of your constant shouting at the basketball team when a ball would go the wrong way.

"And it's just balls between your legs, and they can just as easily deflate." You sassed back. To Billy, it was almost comical to watch. You with the tough guy act, puffing up your chest to a dude way taller than you with colorful pompoms in each hand on your hips.

"What a bitch..." Tommy huffed again.

"Oh get over it." Billy snapped. "What's captain pompoms gonna do?" He laughed at his own statement. Like said before he found the whole conversation comical-

WHAM!

A basketball went flying right into Billy Hargroves head. He snapped his head around to see the who had the nerve to hit him. His eyes met with captain pompoms. The two had a stare off. That's what it felt like for the rest of practice. The two practically eyeing each other the entire time.

After that stunt was over, after constant staring at one another, Billy had only one reaction in mind. A big one.

The next day followed. Billy knew where he could cut you off and corner you, in-between Mr. Johnson's chemistry class and Mrs. Shoffer's English literature class. It happened fast no one could react to it, actually you doubt anyone saw it happen. What you thought was just another normal day of school turned out to be more than that. A harsh hold took your arm, taking you away from the crowd into the more secluded part of the hall. Where you came face to face with a fuming Billy. His jaw was clenched and eyes held anger.

"What, you think you're real funny for the shit you pulled yesterday?" He interrogated. "Try it again see what fuckin happens..." His threats did not stop. Well his empty threats. As much as you are terrified of what he could do, you knew he'd never act on them. Your brave front was standing strong. Taking in every threat, comment, and remark he could throw at you. To get a reaction, if you were a guy you would have answered with your fists at his first remark. But you are not. You are you. You knew the exact thing that would make him even more angry.

" You are nothing but scuff on the gym floor, and that's all you will be."

Billy did not like that one bit. Who does this bitch think she is? His fist rose into the air, readying to strike. The force came down, you felt the air brush past your face, to only make contact with a metal locker. The sound ricocheted through the hall.

You open up your eyes. Now, again, staring at him. Anger was not held in his eyes anymore. If was fear and sadness, to you it was peculiar expression to see on his face. The actions that just happened finally caught up to you, you inhale deeply not knowing you stopped breathing. Everything caught up to you.

SLAP! Your hand came down, striking Billy Hargrove in the face. Hard enough to leave a mark. Not knowing that one had just been healed from another hand. "What the hell is your problem?" You yelled, agitated. "God, you fuckin creep." You make your way back to your class leaving Billy stunned. He didn't know what to do. He has never had someone react to him like that before. It intrigued him. He had an interest in you now.

After that encounter Billy made it his mission yo agitate you as much as possible. I mean, how else are you supposed to show someone you like them. From poking you with a pencil in class, purposefully missing the hoop so the ball bounces into your direction, anything at all just so you could look at him. He was succeeding and he was royally pissing you off. Until on fateful autumn day, everyone had gone home for the day. Except for the extracurriculars that took place after school. Two of those being basketball and cheer practice. Just as the practices were about to start, Billy took notice that you weren't with the cheer team. Which he thought was odd, but instead he chose to go smoke a cigarette before practice. He made his way to the small alley like way that was outside the gym that lead to the track field. And the sight before him made him stop in his tracks. there you stood cheer practice outfit and all with a lit cigarette hanging from your lip.

"I thought cheerleaders didn't smoke?" Billy joked to you, giving you his famous smirk.

"And I thought shit stayed in toilets, but I guess I was wrong since you're here." You said taking a huff of your cig.

"Damn, always ready with a comeback are you?" Billy said, lighting his cigarette.

"Why are you messing with me Hargrove?"

"Ouch, last name basis now sweets?"

"Shut up." You won't deny it, that dumb nickname that he started calling you grew on you. "Is this because of me smacking you?"

"No."

"Was it me hitting you with a basketball?"

"No." He said blankly again.

"Then what is it?"

Billy took a huff of his cigarette then looked you in your eyes. No hate or anger, something you can only describe as adoration.

"I find you interesting." Was his only answer.

"What?" you were confused by this answer. What was so interesting about you that made Billy intrigued. " Your like curious about me or something?"

"Exactly."

"You know curiosity killed the cat, Hargrove." You sassed.

"And satisfaction brought it back, and I am not satisfied yet so get used to me sweets." He said taking his cig a stomping it out onto the ground walking away.

You grumbled at his response, inhaling the last of your cigarette with blushing cheeks. Stomping out your cigarette then making your way into practice. 'Why does this asswipe make me blush'.

...........................................................................

Weeks of this teasing have gone by. Everyday Billy would find a new way to make you mad, blush, or embarrassed to get a reaction out of you. He claimed "It's because you so cute." Which made you blush even more. Gosh, you couldn't stand half of the guys at this school. Why was Billy the only one making you feel this way?

Truth be told, Billy had seen you around way before he had met you. How you walk down the hall with your head held high, looking away in disgust at the "popular" kids, over all not conforming to what a cheerleader is by Hawkins view point. You fought, yelled, got in people faces. Billy love all of it, it made him excited. Excited to talk to you and ask you questions, even ones you deem are stupid. All he wanted to do was to be around you. Damn, he loved it in a way.

Practice had ended for the day leading off into the weekend. A light rain pour had come down, everyone else had a ride to get them home. Everyone except you, well you did but he was running very late. Billy made his way outside to find you standing in the walk way waiting to be picked up. Cigarette hanging from your mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Billy asked.

"Waiting." You simply put.

"Do you want a ride?" He asked.

"No, I have a ride." You said. "But he's running late."

"What your boyfriend?" Billy said, the words had jealousy behind them.

"No." You sighed. "My brother you dipshit."

"oh..." He sighed. A silence fell between you two. Not uncomfortable, but nice enough for you two to be around each other. But Billy had something building in his stomach, a nervous feeling. He hated it. He needed to tell you something.

"Hey." He called to you, you turn your head to face him. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened."

"What?" You were confused by what he just said.

"I said I'm sorry, did you not hear me?" Billy said, He turned his body to face you. "I said I'm sorry." You just stood there silent. Still taking in the fact he is saying sorry. "I'm sorry that I almost punched you into a locker. I realized I was acting like someone I didn't want to be, and you calling me on my shit. It made me look at you differently. I noticed more about you. How you always make sure the other cheerleaders are okay, how you genuinely care about the people you have around you, and you don't take any shit. And- shit I'm bad at this." He's now embarrassed by everything he just said. Heat rises to his cheeks and ears.

You step toward him, placing your hand on his arm. "I thought you were doing pretty well." You smiled, comforting him in a way. He just looked at you. You never smiled at him directly but now that your smile was intended for him. 'damn' He wants you to smile at him all the time.

"Do you want to go on a date?" He asked straight out. You were shocked by his forwardness, but not entirely surprised.

"You want to go on a date with me?"

"Hell yeah, why wouldn't I?" He made it seem like you were speaking a different language. "Listen one date is all I ask, her if you still think I'm a piece of shit I'll stop everything that I'm doing."

Your smile grew even wider. "I would love to go on a date with you Billy."

"Dang, back on first name basis already? Looks like I'm getting a second date already." He joked to you, in turn caused you to laugh.

For the remainder of your time you and Billy talked till you had been picked up. You both talked about anything and everything. It was pure bliss, you loved every second of it. You both were abruptly interrupted by the honking of your brothers car.mYou said your goodbyes to make your way to the car. The smile that held your face did not drop. I didn't drop on Billy's either, when getting home Max found it incredibly disturbing to see her step brother so giddy.

That following night Billy arrived to your house to take you on your promised date. Which one date turned into another and another and another. Till it reached throughout the whole school that Billy Hargrove and the cheer captain were finally official. With many guys questioning Billy as to why he picked you out of everyone, to which he said if they insulted you again he had no problem with dealing with them himself. Girls just snuffed their noses up to you since you now made Billy officially off the market. Not like you cared, he's your boyfriend now and you have him all to yourself. So you could say everything did work out in the end. You and Billy have each other.

"So I guess we have Tommy to thank since he is the reason we met?" You joked.

"Hell no, I would have went after you even if you didn't hit me with that basket ball." He smirk.

"Jeez, you are something Billy." You smiled, leaning into him to seal your lips in a kiss. Yeah, nothing could beat this.

..........................................................................

[writethrough]

Please I am craving a Billy request that is just mindless fluff about you noticing how his eyes crinkle slightly when he smiles or how his chains get tangled sometimes or how he is actually a soft person on the inside who’s never been able to fully express himself and how beautiful his genuine smile is that you hardly get to see and anything and everything in between (your writing is so dreamy and beautiful how how you write Billy is so 😍😩🫶🏻)

Found You

(Billy Hargrove x Gender Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: You give Billy what he's always needed.

Warnings: So fluffy you could suffocate.

Word Count: 513

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in! (And for the lovely compliment!) I hope you don't mind, but I wrote this in the same way I did Sun Daze and Morning Blue. It's short, but (I think) super sweet.

He comes alive when he smiles. 

Not the smirks he throws with the cocky click of his tongue, or the slow pull of his mouth that reveals his teeth one by one, like a predator. 

His real smile. The one that crinkles his eyes and scrunches his nose and pulls you in until you’re so close you feel everything. The mint from his gum, the sun baked into his skin, his hands holding your hips, and the softness of his kiss. 

He steals your breath every time. You’ve always been the first to retreat to take in more, and he’ll relent for a few moments, busying himself with those teeth dragging along your neck or his lips gliding from the corner of yours to your ear. He's fed up with waiting when he nips whatever flesh is in front of him before returning to claim the artificial watermelon from your mouth. 

You’d do just about anything to keep him smiling. To pull his laughter from deep within his gut and have it play like music. 

He didn’t laugh much when you first met. Unless it was that taunting one you didn’t like, the one he forced out like armor. 

You still remember the first time you made him laugh out of pure joy. He said he didn’t know the last time that happened. And you made a silent promise to bring it out of him as much as you could. 

He has such capacity for all of it. Laughter...joy...happiness...he just needed someone to help him find it. 

And he does. 

He finds it in the sound of your voice, even when you’re mad at him. It’s different. You’re mad at him because you care, because you love him and want what’s best for him. 

He finds it in your eyes, that burning fire that ignites just for him. The way he touches you. The way he speaks softly, just for you—because of you. The way he strips off his shirt and pulls you flush to him just to see that fire turn into an inferno. 

Then there’s the way you touch him. Not with hate or anger, but like he will break. Your fingers graze his forearms, up to his shoulders, and wind around his neck just to hold him—just because you want to. 

You press kisses into his shoulder as the shower cools, your front to his back because it’s getting cold and he’s so warm. You make it beneath the covers, and he drapes himself over you, face shoved into your neck while you rub his back, following the dip of his spine from top to bottom. And if you’re feeling a certain way, you’d give a little pat. And he responds with a suck. 

Infectious. 

That’s the only way you can describe him. 

He pulled you into his orbit and you’ve never been the same. 

He gives you trust. And you give him safety. 

So, when you say you love his smile, that his laugh is your favorite sound. 

His response, every time is: 

It’s because of you. 

Taglist: @periwinkle-quill, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust, @nix-rose, @realmermaidariel, @eddiesdruid

If you'd liked tagged in future fics, comment or message me!

(Not sure why two tags won't work. Hopefully, you both see this/are magically notified.)

[munsster]

shut-eye

A/N: i siimply love sleepy boys and their puppy dog tendencies

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

Summary: Billy Hargrove loves sleep and you. 0.8k words.

Warnings: implied smut and kissing, cuddling, lots of sleeping + snoring, general fluff!

The second you get your hands on Billy, he's snoring. His cheek is smushed against your thigh, and your fingers are soft on the back of his neck. Soft enough that he's humming in two minutes flat. You never knew your boy could be so tired. Every time you tell him to work less and sleep more, he tells you he's saving up for your future together and then immediately passes out on the couch.

He doesn't even know it's happening until he's snoring softly and draped across your lap, all deadweight with his boots heavy strapped to his feet. You usually give him a couple minutes to blink awake again. It borders on Pavlovian when he waits five minutes to stand silently in the hall and let you lead him to his bedroom.

Though he's practically unconscious, he insists on stripping down to his underwear to sleep comfortably. Which has become your job because he says he likes how gentle you are. You never really mind anyway, and he's always polite about it—sure to huff out those pleases and thank you's. You're careful to keep him at peace while you slowly unbutton his shirt or push the jacket from his shoulders. It's rare that it gets him riled up when you push his jeans to the floor, but rare doesn't mean never. You know you've got him revved up when he groans and his eyes flick open. And sleep has evaded him with his hand in your panties.

There is nothing more important to him than you. When you tell him he's sweet and special and worth it, he feels content enough to kiss your neck and breathe you in until he's all drained and humming. It means so much that you take the time to make sure he's tucked in at night. He's never had anyone keep track of him like this. Even with work kicking his ass, he's happy to wake up to you after you insist he gets all eight hours of rest.

Sometimes, the day and its people will make him groggy. Worse than overtired and overworked, he gets explosive until he slumps through the front door. One time he couldn't find you, and he nearly tore the whole house apart just to find you curled under the covers. And the small, sleepy smile that graced your face made all that grievance worth it. The bad days are the worst until he's warm under four different quilts and tucked into your side with a peck lingering on his forehead.

If you’re not careful, he’ll beg you to sing to him. He’ll crawl onto your tummy and bat his lashes and beg and beg like he can’t do without a lullaby. Doesn’t matter if you can sing, you will end up singing. Some sickly sweet jazz tune, but really you could sing your grocery list and have him cooing like a little baby by the end. And if you’re not in the mood and he really can’t sleep, he’ll ask you to read to him. It knocks him out like a sedative. Forget warm milk, spit some Murakami and wait for the snoring to sink in.

He doesn’t even have to be tired to fall asleep across your lap. If he sees you looking comfortable on the couch, he will simply squirm under the blanket next to you (or on top of you) and blink up at you until you smile and run your fingers through his hair. He’s so puppy dog coded. But at the same time SO orange cat. He could be running on six cups of coffee and still be sound asleep to your heartbeat tender against his cheek.

He's cursed without a goodnight kiss. Won't get a wink of sleep 'till he gets a kiss from you. It gives him nightmares just thinking about it. He can't—he won't fully conk out until he's wrapped around you, your palm resting in the crook of his own, kiss settled on his forehead or cheek or lips or eyelids. He refuses because it's not safe. He needs the bedtime routine of you to keep him weighed down and promise forever in dreams.

When he's especially tired, you'll whisper things like, "You are the sleepiest boy in the whole world,” or calling him “sleeping beauty,” just to rouse a half-hearted reaction from him. It's usually a mumble of some gruff protest or a coo of laughter before he's out cold with his hands tethered to you. He's always so determined to stay good and awake for you, but it's usually a futile effort that ends when he wakes up with the sun the next morning.

Do not try to make him sleep without you, it won't end well. Seriously, his solution to a fight is not "I'll sleep on the couch"; it's "I'll kiss you until we're both feeling better," and when that doesn't work, one flash of that deviant smile and soft blue bedroom eyes will stop any train in its tracks.

He spends all of his free time sleeping and loves to call a cat nap across your tummy ‘date night’. It might’ve annoyed you if you didn't love him so much. Plus you never really mind the extra shut-eye. That kind of forgiveness is part of what fuels his obsession with you. If your smile is the last thing he remembers before bed, it's a good day.

How can you be mad when he purrs like a kitten and finds you like a heat seeking missile. He doesn't remember when he got so tired, but he's glad he found someone to keep him healthy. And maybe a sixty-hour work week won't be so bad once he can buy you that pretty silver ring and make you happy for the rest of your lives.

masterlist

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Hear me out on this one! A cute secret date turn relationship with Billy x fem reader. He doesn’t want people like his dad or Tommy getting in the way with his time with his girlfriend. You can write it however you pls!

Hope you like that idea, thank you 😊

Hiiiii!!! I’m sorry this sat in my inbox for so long!! I’m finally catching up on all of my requests, and this one is so cute! I really appreciate your patience, and I hope you like it! We're feeling fluffy with this one today 💕 | Master List 📖

You weren’t sure what a date with Billy Hargrove would entail. You had heard the rumors about the new King of Hawkins High – how he took a different girl home every week, and his sleek, blue Camaro was permanently parked out at Lover’s Lake. You were shocked that Friday when you were alone in the auditorium running through light cues, and Billy approached you.

“Tommy’s not here,” you called to him as he walked down one of the aisles. Tommy Hagan had been charged with sweeping up the auditorium during the lunch hour for two weeks after playing what he thought was a harmless prank on a freshman on the basketball team, and you were sure Billy had come looking for him.

“Is it just you in here?” His question caught you off guard, but you tried not to let it distract you from your work.

“Yeah. Did you need something?” Billy sat down in the chair next to you, and you finally looked up from your stack of cue sheets to see his signature smirk and cerulean eyes, deep like the ocean. You could smell his spiced aftershave, a hint of cigarette smoke, and the cool aroma of winterfresh gum as he leaned in closer to you.

“I just came to see if you’re free tonight.” Billy smacked his gum as he rested an arm over the back of your chair, awaiting your answer. You froze, unsure if this was a mistake or some kind of cruel joke.

“What for?” You searched his expression for any clues as to what he might be thinking, but it was unchanging.

“To go out,” he answered nonchalantly. Your breath caught in your chest, and crimson heat crept up to your cheeks.

“Like…on a date?” He had to have noticed your blushing and the perplexing look on your face, but he kept his cool completely.

“Of course.” He beamed, his blinding smile causing your stomach to erupt into butterflies.

“With you?!” Billy’s exterior cracked slightly with that question. He looked offended, almost irritated, and he started to fidget with something in his pocket.

“Look, if you don’t want to –”

“No!” You cut him off in a hurry. “No, it’s not that at all. It’s just –” He looked intently into your eyes as you tried to find the right words to explain your bewilderment. “I guess I didn’t think I was really your type.”

Billy chuckled and looked down at his shoes before meeting your eyes once more. “Well, I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me. I’ll pick you up at, say, 8 o’clock?” The voice in your head was screaming don’t do it; you know better, but everything else in your body reacted in the complete opposite fashion.

“Sure,” you agreed softly. Billy smiled once more before standing up from his chair, taking smooth strides toward the auditorium’s exit.

“See you tonight,” he called over his shoulder, never looking back. You heard the door close after him, and all you could do was stare wide-eyed at the wall while you tried to process what had just happened.

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

Of course he brought you to some random clearing in the woods. You were sure he was either about to murder you or try to get laid, and you couldn’t decide which one was worse. You assumed a date would occur somewhere conventional, like the movies, a restaurant, or the mall – not here at…an overlook? You tried not to let your apprehension show as Billy shifted his car into park.

“Well, here we are,” he declared, opening the driver’s side door and climbing out of the car into the chill of the starry night. You were surprised again when you heard the passenger door opening just a few seconds later, and he helped you out of your seat, steadying you on the uneven ground.

“Where is here, exactly?”

“I’ll show you; come here. And be careful. There’s a lot to trip over out here in the dark,” he warned. That didn’t make you feel any better about the possibility of being murdered, but you didn’t have much choice but to hold onto his arm as he led you to a guard rail at the top of the overlook.

“Wow,” you murmured. Every single light throughout the town of Hawkins was visible from where the two of you stood, and it was absolutely breathtaking. You had never seen so many shooting stars, and the deep navy sky was littered with sparkling clusters which were usually totally camouflaged under the umbrella of downtown’s streetlamps.

“You like it?” Billy sounded hopeful, like he actually cared whether his choice pleased you, and you nodded. He let out a small sigh of relief, and he slowly took your hand from his arm, interlacing your fingers together. The setting was more romantic than you had expected, and you couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts in the back of your mind that something was still amiss.

What if he had taken you here just so no one would see you together?

What if he was ashamed to be with you?

“Billy?” The anxiety in your voice must have been obvious because you felt him tense up beside you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” you half lied. “This is amazing. It’s just – are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“What?” The hurt in his tone tugged on your heartstrings. “No…no, why would you think that?” His other hand covered the top of yours, and he turned to face you. You could hardly make out his features in the dim glow of the city lights below you, but you could feel his concern tainting the atmosphere.

“I guess I expected a date to be somewhere more public. And when you took me to a hideout in the mountains, I was worried it was because you didn’t want anyone to know we were together,” you admitted, avoiding his eye contact. His warm hands squeezed yours just a little tighter.

“Hey, look at me,” he soothed. “That’s not what this is. I didn’t want anyone to interrupt us. I wanted to be alone, just the two of us, so we could talk. You know, have real conversations. I’m so tired of my dad, my coaches, Tommy, Troy, and everyone else breathing down my neck, criticizing every decision I make.” Billy cupped the side of your face, grazing your cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want anyone getting in the way of something that could be really, really good for me.”

Your scarlet flush returned at his reassurance. You never would have dreamed Billy could be so gentle, so emotional. But he wanted to be here with you, marveling at this beauty, and it was the start of something wonderful.

“I believe you. I’m sorry for assuming. I’m just not used to things like this,” you whispered. He closed the distance between you so that your noses were touching, and you could feel his breath against your lips – a cool, winterfresh breeze.

“Do you want to be together? Like, as a couple?” Billy almost seemed nervous to ask you, but you were elated, answering him without wasting another second.

“Yes. Of course, yes.” You couldn’t stifle your grin. You felt sunshine in your chest, and you didn’t know what else to say in that moment, but everything felt perfect.

Billy leaned in slowly, his lips connecting with yours in the sweetest of first kisses. Time slowed as the two of you connected, and nothing else mattered while you basked in his warmth, stars showering overhead as the town of Hawkins slipped into a slumber below you.

[latelyanobsession]

Letter S on the nsfw alphabet for our baby billy ✊😔

I have no thoughts only billy back in cali

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Billy is very protective, but not to an extreme. He's more than happy to let you hold your own, but when someone's in your face and overwhelming you? Yeah. He's gonna puff his chest a bit, stand tall, and just maybe knock someone around if they really aren't getting the picture. Ultimately though, his level of protection gets set by the kind of partner you are.

If you're shivering like a fear-biting chihuahua, tucked into his side the entire time at the first big party you attend as an item. You can bet he's gonna ratchet up his attention. His protective vigilance over you a 20/10. A hand around you almost exclusively. Checking in with you the whole night. "Are you sure you're good? Do you want to leave?" Steering you away from the heavier and more crowded parts of the party that would overwhelm you. Making sure that you're comfortable and that you didn't just attend something solely to keep him happy.

If you're a partner who can hold your own. A person that would even go so far as to join in on drinking games or other shenanigans at such parties. Billy's protection will be at the most minimal. He'll swing past you every now and then. Check in and make sure that you're pacing yourself. "Are you drinking more water? Drink your water." And dump out your cup and refill it from the tap. He'd mainly watch you from a distance, and everyone once in a while stop by. Place a hand on the small of your back, and smile. "Ok?" And then proceed on his way.

If you're the kind of person who's in somewhere between, a partner who is comfortable really depending on the setting, your mood, the people there, etc. Billy might have a little bit more of a task reading you. And therefore he might lean towards being a bit more protective.

Overall Billy's intent is not to overwhelm or to overstep on a partner's autonomy. But he always wants to do what he can to help his partner feel safe, respected, and comfortable. And if any of those things get pushed by another person, Billy's ears perk up, and he watches and he waits. He lets his partner do everything they can themselves. If you for instance can't seem to get out of a conversation with someone you really don't like, one pleading look in Billy's direction and he's changing the subject for that person whether they like it or not.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Billy is a young guy in good shape (aside from the smoking, which we assume hasn't caught up with him yet). On any given session you are probably gonna need to set aside an hour to at least two. Excluding quickies, if we're talking unbroken, single-sessions you can count on a solid double round from this guy if not more. It depends on how long it's been since he last had his hands on you.

If you've been together recently you'll escape sooner, but if he hasn't had his paws on you in at least three weeks? Oh. Best leave your evening open. He's going to spend the entire time reminding you why you keep coming back to him. Time after time. Each round he wrings out of you is going to get harder and leave you increasingly exhausted. By the time he decides he's finished four rounds later, you may forget how your limbs work and have gone hoarse.

[shanakin-skywalker]

Bruh Billy fucking you doggy style on the floor of your bedroom with one had clamped over your mouth because you snuck him into your room through your window in the middle of the night and your parents are in the next room 😩🥵

[elzswr]

billy hargrove x reader.

“you don’t scare me.” you grumbled to billy who was blocking your path for the fifth time this week, trying to intimidate you. but really, the boy just wanted your attention because you’re the only one who’s not drooling over him since he came to this godforsaken town and obviously, he sees it as a challenge.

billy smirks at you before grabbing your wrist, pushing his thumb on your pulse point.

“yeah? then why is your heart beating so fast?”

you didn’t answer. you just stare at him blankly. watching how he bit his bottom lip, how his eyes were shifting to stare at your eyes then your lips, but ended up staring at your eyes when he noticed you studying him. you chuckled and tilt your head a bit,

“cause you’re kinda cute.”

his smirk dropped completely as he stare at you, mouth slightly agape, his cheeks blushing crimson. you smirk at him before ripping your arm away from his hold.

“if you want my attention, just say so.” you said with a wink before walking to your car. leaving the poor guy alone with a blush on his cheeks and a dent on his pants.

[outworldletters]

All The Fake and Made-up Stuff, Babe! | Letters From Billy Hargrove/Reader

Synopsis: It is your first Christmas with Billy, but you haven't shown up just yet. He tries to convince you to come, telling all of his plans for the evening. You have been gone for so long that he has begun to think you aren't real, and the dream of being with you might be nothing more than a fantasy.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/Reader

Tags: Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Love Letters, Epistolary, Long-Distance Relationship, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Eve, Romantic!Billy, Fluff and Humor

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53457961

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

[randomfandomwrites]

Missing (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

*not my gif*

Requested by anonymous

Summary: Billy finds out you went missing (set around the end of season 2)

Warnings: Kidnapping, angst, cursing, possible violence

Word Count: 1,039

A/N: I might do a part 2 for this one

~

You hadn’t been answering your phone all day. Billy knew you were probably out with your friends in the morning, but now it was almost 10 at night and you still weren’t picking up. He tried to reassure himself, saying you were probably too tired, or too busy, or spending the night at your friend’s house.

Wait, he had your best friend’s number, didn’t he? 

He waited impatiently while the phone rang, drumming his fingers on the wall. Goddammit, did nobody else in the world have a phone? He was about to hang up when he heard a “Hello?” Billy’s shoulders relaxed as he brought the phone to the side of his face.

“Hi, yeah, this is Billy,” he said, exhaling loudly. 

“Oh hey! How are you?” your friend inquired in a cheery tone.

“I’m fine. Um, is (y/n) sleeping over at your house?”

“Nope!”

“Did you guys hang out earlier today? Go shopping, maybe?” Billy asked, fear growing in his chest. 

“No, I haven’t seen them all day, sorry!” your friend replied, oblivious to Billy’s anxieties. 

“Okay, thanks,” Billy grunted, shoving the phone back into its place. He turned and ran to his room, slamming the door. He leaned against a wall and grabbed the nearest trinket from his desk, just to throw it down. “Fuck!” he shouted, burying his face in his hands. Why were you avoiding him? Were you mad? Did he do something wrong? No, that was impossible. He actually hadn’t done anything that you could “find out about” because he told you everything. And he hadn’t done anything that would make you this angry since before you two were even together. Plus, he knew that if you were mad you would seek comfort with your best friend, who definitely would’ve seen or heard from you at some point. No, Billy was completely stumped.

~

Two days later at school, nobody had seen or heard from you since Friday. Billy asked everybody he could think of that he thought you might hang out with. He even asked Harrington, but no luck. You seemed to have disappeared into thin air. No notes, no calls, no goodbyes, nothing. Billy couldn’t concentrate on anything at all, he was sick with worry. All that mattered right now was finding you. 

~

On Thursday, he couldn’t take it anymore. This was the longest he had been without any contact from you since he’d known you, and he was not going to suffer in silence anymore. He drove to your house, marching up to your front door and knocking harshly. 

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)? Are you here? Please, God, tell me you’re in there or I swear I’ll-” The door swung open, shocking Billy for a moment.

“(Y/n)’s not here,” your parent whispered. Dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach as he asked a question he was pretty sure he knew the answer to.

“Where...?” 

“Gone,” your parent replied. “I haven’t seen (y/n) since Friday morning.”  Billy stumbled backwards, his worst fears confirmed. He ran to his car, speeding away and breaking almost every possible driving law on the way. Finally, he pulled up to the police station. Billy never thought he’d be here willingly. He flung open the door and strode inside, ignoring Florence’s protests. Hopper’s door was open a crack, and Billy pushed the door out of his way and stared at Hopper angrily.

“What do you need, kid,” Hopper said in a stressed voice, barely looking up from his desk. 

“I need to file a missing persons report!” Billy practically shouted. 

“Listen, kid, if this is some kind of prank-”

“It’s not a prank!” Billy yelled. “(Y/n) is gone and you need to-” 

“(Y/n)?” Hopper asked. “This (y/n)?” He flipped to the front of the file that read MISSING PERSON and CLASSIFIED: DO NOT OPEN EXCEPT FOR CHIEF OF POLICE. On the top of the manila folder, paperclipped to the corner, was a picture of you.

It was you. 

Billy felt his legs give out and he collapsed into a chair behind him. 

“Oh my God, oh my God,” he mumbled, covering his face with his hands again. “What the hell happened?” he asked.

“Well, I can’t-” Hopper was interrupted by Joyce bursting through his door. 

“They found another way in! We can get (y/n) back!” she shouted. Billy’s head whipped to look at her.

“You know where (y/n) is?” he whispered, sounding broken and angry. He looked back at Hopper. “You know where... and you’re not doing anything to help?” Billy stood up in a blind rage, screaming curses and insults at Hopper, at Joyce, at the world. Hopper stood up and pushed him down into the chair as Billy tried to fight him.

“Listen, listen!” Hopper yelled. “We have a way to get there now. We didn’t before. We’ve been looking ever since they were taken.”

“Great, I’m going to get (y/n) now,” Billy said angrily, standing up. Hopper sat him back down again.

“No, you’re not. That’s not your job,” Hopper scolded. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you- wait, did you say taken? (Y/n) got kidnapped? Oh my God, what the fuck? What do you mean taken?” Billy’s heart was beating faster and faster, his frustration bubbling up at this cop who wouldn’t help you so far, and this woman who wasn’t doing anything to save you even though she knew where you were now. Every second passing was a second you could be dying.

“Hop, tell him,” Joyce mumbled.

“I am not going to tell him, nobody else needs to know,” Hopper said.

“Hopper, tell him!” Joyce insisted. “He deserves to know.”

Hopper was silent.

“For (y/n),” Joyce whispered. Hopper sighed.

“Tell me what? What the fuck is going on? Where is (y/n)?” Billy’s questions poured out of him. He needed to know where you were, needed to know you were safe.

“It’s gonna sound crazy, okay? You’re gonna think I’m shitting you. But it’s true. All of it. And you cannot, cannot tell anybody. Deal?” Hopper said sternly. Billy nodded.

“Have you heard of Hawkins Lab?” Hopper asked.

Billy nodded again, silently.

“What about the Upside Down?”

~

Thanks for reading! I hope you like this, anon! I feel like it was a little all over the place since I’m exhausted right now, but I tried to make it gender neutral. Please tell me if I used specific pronouns so I can fix it :)

I might go back and edit this later but I haven’t decided

Taglist:

@angelbbygrl

@mikeyswifie​

[bookshelf-dust]

fix me up

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,425

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex/sexual innuendos, basically billy being a flirty little shit, mentions of back pain, fluff

a/n: hiii!! i came up with this a few days ago and i’ve been in love with it but now i’m feeling a little iffy about it, so i hope someone out there in the void likes it. happy reading! love you!! <33

————

“I think that if I have to lift a squirmy toddler up one more time, I’m just going to fucking die.”

“That seems a little dramatic.”

You’re sat on your knees next to where Billy lays flat on his back, his palms pressed to his eyes. You reach forward and rub your hand over his forehead, fingers smoothing over his hair. 

He moves his hands, looking up at you like he always does when you’re sweet with him. He raises his brows for a moment, a little confused, but then he leans into it, allowing himself to enjoy your affection. 

His hair is still a little damp from the shower he had when he got home, washing the smell of chlorine from his skin. 

You drag your thumb over the slit in his eyebrow, across the circles under his eyes, lingering on the freckles he has. They’re your favorite part of him, you’ve decided.

Billy shifts a little, like he’s uncomfortable, his eyes scrunching closed in pain. 

“Something hurtin’ you, baby?” 

He grabs for your wrist when you take it away, smacking a kiss to your pulse point. 

“My back’s fucking killin’ me.”

You pout for just a second, though he misses it because his eyes are still closed. 

It’s a dull ache that travels from his lower back, up his spine, and spreads at his shoulders. He’s sore. And his sides hurt, too. He can practically still feel the little feet kicking the shit out of him as he tried to convince the kids they were not, in fact, going to sink.

Not with floaties on, and not with him there. Not on their backs.

“Want me to rub it for you?”

Billy snorts. “You’d do that?”

You readjust so you’re sitting cross-legged. “I mean, I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it, but I’m willing to try to see if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I have complete faith in you.” 

“Liar.”

He grins at you before he’s grabbing your face with both hands to pull you down to his level. He kisses you once; his mouth is warm and he’s a little stubbly, though it’s not like you mind. 

When he pulls away, Billy sits up and flips so that he’s laying on his tummy, socked feet up by the pillows.

You go to straddle the backs of his thighs, but he’s sitting up again. “Wait—wait,” he says. He yanks his shirt off over his head and throws it somewhere behind him on the bed. 

You roll your eyes. “Show off.”

“Like you don’t want your hands on me.”

You choose this moment to slap him on the ass. He groans and crosses his arms so he can rest his face on them, cheek squishing up so he looks much less menacing than he would’ve hoped. 

You settle with your knees on either side of his hips, placing your hands on the skin of his back. He shivers, and you fight a grin. 

Billy is so warm. He's like a space heater. It takes seconds for the tips of your fingers to warm up against him. You run your hands over the planes of his back, down the dip in his spine. 

“I’m gonna touch you, and I need you to tell me where it hurts, okay?” 

Billy hums. Having you on him like this is comforting, he thinks. He likes feeling the weight of you against him, likes your hands running all over him. Even if you do keep skimming his ass because you can’t help yourself. 

You rest your palms against his lower back. “Here right?” You lean down and kiss the spot. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Where else?” you ask. You put some lotion on your hands so as to not make him uncomfortable, warming it up before you touch him. He fights the urge to make a joke about you lubing him up. 

Your hands slide upwards, over his shoulder blades. “There,” he grumbles.

“That all?”

“My sides.”

You put your hands back against his soft spot, and rub them up and outwards in a sort of sweeping motion. “So, like, this whole spot?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“‘Kay. You’ll tell me if something hurts or if you want it harder, right?”

Billy snorts at the sexual connotation that your words carry. He’s laughing because he’s asked you the same questions before. And he likes that you’re the one asking them now. 

“Billy,” you whine. 

“You know I will.” 

You start with his lower back, pressing your hands firmer than you had been against his skin. You rub in that same motion you’d used before, fingers spreading and trying to push the tension out. 

He hasn’t complained yet, so you assume he’s doing fine. Assume you’re doing fine. 

You keep doing that, rubbing his back and thinking about how you might do your own, reaching and sort of massaging the area to relieve the pain. 

When you look up at him, Billy’s eyes are closed. It’s like he’s sinking into the mattress. It makes you smile. 

You move to his shoulders. Your palms dig into the squish of his back, tanned skin and freckles moving under your touch. You push upwards, and hear him sigh. 

Billy feels like he could die. Your hands feel so good and his mind is so muddled he’s not even sure he could form a coherent thought. He knows that if he’s like this and you’re only doing his back, he’d just dissolve if you touched anything else. 

You start on his back again, remembering that he’d said it was bothering him the most. You use both of your thumbs and start at the very base of his spine, just above the waistband of his underwear, pushing hard. 

You’ve only done this once when he moans. 

“Ohhh, fuck.”

You stop. You’re giggling at the way he’s melting underneath you and it’s making you heat up in more ways than one. 

Billy turns his head to look at you, half asleep, blanket lines on his cheek. “Why’d you quit?” he grumbles. 

You grin. “You’re moaning, William.”

He rolls his eyes and face plants back into the comforter on his bed. “Am not.”

You laugh and he reaches back with one hand, blindly swatting at you. He misses but is too sleepy and entranced to do anything but relent, so your thumbs find his back again, pushing in the same motion. 

This time Billy let’s put a low sigh, like the tension is being released from his back. You push a little harder, rubbing up a little further. He does it again, brows furrowing. He knows that he moaned for you. He’s trying not to do it again but he’s losing the battle. 

“That good, huh?” you tease. 

Billy’s eyes fly open and he pushes up onto his elbows. He’s said those exact words to you so many times it’s like he doesn’t even have to think about it anymore. 

He’s not sure he wants to admit how much he likes this power you hold over him. 

You take your hands off of him and place them over your mouth to keep from laughing. You’re so proud of yourself and Billy swears he feels his heart swell at your antics. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask. “Clearly I wasn’t hurting you.” You’re laughing again and you lower yourself to rest your forehead against his back. He can feel your breath and your body shaking with giggles. 

“Kiss my ass,” he says. He runs a hand down his face. 

When you take him up on his offer, planting a kiss on the side of his ass cheek–even if it is on top of the cotton shorts he’s wearing–Billy breaks. 

He laughs. It’s a warm and happy sound. He seriously can’t believe you. 

The both of you are laughing like children, so loud that Max screams down the hall for you to “shut the hell up,” but that only makes it worse. 

“Okay,” you start, trying to catch your breath. “Okay. Holy shit.” Your hand slides back up his back, fingers running up and down his spine, giving him goosebumps. “You feel any better? Or you want me to keep going?”

Billy flops back down into the mattress. “Please don’t stop. Need you to fix me up.”

You adjust yourself so that you’re sitting directly against the curve of his ass this time. You lean down to whisper into his ear, hands massaging at his sides. 

“I think I can fix you up just fine, baby.”

————

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

[unamused-boss]

Post Sex Snacks

Billy Hargrove x Harrington Reader

I thought this would be cute... No smut (sorry) Short but Fluffy

Summary: You and Billy get a little hungry after your hours of fornication. In the hour of hunger you find out that your boyfriend is quite the cook.

The past few hours have been amazing. Like actually. You and Billy had been going at it for three whole hours. The time is now 5 o'clock, you have homework you need to do but your legs are to sore to move.Currently you are laying on Billy's chest taking in the warmth he is giving off. The comfort you were in was heavenly.

"You okay?" Billy asked. He's never been this comfortable when hooking up with someone. Usually he is trying to get out of there as fast as possible, but with you he felt calm. He wanted to be around all the time, if he wasn't it felt like a sickness.

"Yeah, I'm just hungry..." You sighed snuggling deeper into his chest.

"Well why didn't you say so?" Billy said as he got up an put some boxers and pants on. You looked to him in confusion. 'What is he talking about?' you thought.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"I'll cook you something." Billy said simply. You still look at him confused. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" You sassed at him playfully. "We just had sex for hours and you just casually drop on me that you can cook?"

"Yes I did." He stated confidently.

"I don't believe you." You said. Billy just laughed at your statement.

"You don't believe me?"

"Yeah, I don't."

"How about I show you?" He offered.

"Sex or cooking?" You teased.

"Cooking." He huffed out with a grin.

"Fine." You said.

You got out of your bed. Your nakedness following with you as you put some clothes on. One of those articles of clothes being Billies shirts. The both of you make your way down the stairs to your kitchen for Billy to cook.

"You one hundred percent know what you are doing?" You questioned him.

"Yes babe, have at least a little faith in your boyfriend." He laughed.

Billy got straight to work. He brought out a pan, some bread, butter, and cheese. He was making a "house staple" as he put it, a grilled cheese sandwich. Which he knew was your favorite. You sat an watched Billy work away at the food in front of him. You don't know why but you loved watching him cook. It felt so domestic, like you both are supposed to be doing this. You loved it. You loved him. It took a while to get to know him with all the walls he puts up. However, you love the carefree goofy guy that you get to call your boyfriend. You both understand each other, even if everyone else doesn't get it you both do. In your daze you did not realize that Billy placed a plate infant of you.

"Bon appetit!" Billy said. You look down at the grilled cheese in front of you.

"I looks edible." You say. You pick up the sandwich bringing it to your mouth and take a bite. . . . This is the best grilled cheese ever. Maybe because your boyfriend made it for you but still amazing. Your eyes light up.

"Billy this is amazing." You tell him.

"I tried to tell you but you refused to listen." He smirked. You just shoved his arm playfully.

"Were did you learn to cook?" You ask as you both ate.

"Uh- I watched my mom when she would make me snacks as a kid." He said simply. You didn't know that.

"I bet she made great food." You said not wanting to push any further with him, just wanting to enjoy the moment.

"Yeah, she was." He smiled at the fond memory of her. You scoot closer to Billy wrapping your arms around him bring him into a hug. Even with his high body heat already the hug was warm. You arms tighten around him as you bury your face into his shoulder.

"I love you." You state.

"I love you too." He answered. Billy wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your head. You both go back to eating after a minute not wanting the food to get cold. You both enjoyed your time together.

But everything was stopped when you both heard a car park in the drive way. You and Billy both knowing who it is. Not caring for what he will have to say cause you both will still be together. The familiar jingle of keys is heard from the front door. The door opens, a quick "I'm home!" rang through the house as Steve put up his shoes and coat. Steve made his way to the kitchen, which he thought was empty, to get a snack but instead come to see Billy Hargrove in his house. He knew you and Billy were close but he didn't know this close.

"What is that?" Steve asked.

"A grilled cheese." You answered refusing to discuss with him why Billy was here. You just continued to eat your sandwich. Steve, having decided he is no longer hungry, goes up to his room and not come back down. You and Billy just laugh at what just unfolded in front of you. Instead you go back to enjoying each others company while eating, and deciding of the fact that cuddles are a must after cleaning up.

I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for not being as active, College is kicking my butt. But it's almost summer!

[writethrough]

The Only Destination

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Sometimes you can’t stand all the noise and the people. You want to run and hide, but you don’t know where to go. Until you spot the one person who you’ll always run toward.

Warnings: Language, overstimulated/sound-sensitive Reader

Word Count: 1638

A/N: So, I definitely did not mean to go over a month without posting a fic, but the creative juices have been sparse. Thankfully, I think they're slowly coming back.

This started as a Shy!Reader fic and turned into this. And I didn't use pronouns (I think), but I use the word "perfume." Just an FYI. Hope you enjoy it! (Also, I can't remember what gifs I've used already, so I'm just going with my heart from now on.)

Rubbing your chest, you force yourself to keep your hand there and not travel to your throat. There are too many people around. They’d think you’re trying to hurt yourself instead of self-soothe.

You’re mostly on autopilot as you down the remainder of your drink. It seemed the normal thing to do as you search for somewhere with fewer people—less noise.

Someone walks past you a little too close, and you want nothing more than to scrape your nails down your arms to stop the breeze.

It’s so fucking crowded. As if everyone is placed in just the wrong spot. You have no privacy, no space where you can go and breathe.

The kids splashing in the pool, the grill sizzling, the laughter and talking, it’s too much.

Your last saving grace is to go inside and find a bathroom, flee to a confined space, and hope you don’t feel caged—until you spot Billy. And your feet move before your mind can fully process what you’re doing.

He’s sitting on the edge of a lounger, watching the kids even though they all know how to swim.

You’re squeezing your fingers, scratching the back of your hand unconsciously as you walk toward him.

He glances your way, looks back to the kids, then returns to you when he realizes who you are. His brow pinches once he sees your face and the shift in your eyes.

He doesn’t move, only waits for you to get to him. You stand there, lifting your lips into what you hope is a smile, but when he doesn't return it, you know it isn’t.

You're unsure what you want to do but know Billy’s where you need to be.

But he knows.

He slowly places a hand over yours, tilting his head to the lounger in a silent “sit.”

You do, grateful to not stand there, feeling like all eyes are on you.

You slide your fingers through his absentmindedly and tuck yourself into his side, just behind his back.

He tightens his grip, scanning you.

“You wanna go?” he asks quietly, ever so slightly hunching toward you, hiding you from the others.

You don’t know.

You don't know what you want, and you don’t know what to do. And it makes you wish you could shut your brain off, but it keeps going. And the only thing that you know is that Billy makes you feel a little better. Like you don’t wanna crawl out of your skin.

You put your other hand on your intertwined ones and press your mouth into his shoulder, needing to feel as much contact as possible.

“Okay,” he whispers into your temple. “I’m right here.”

His thumb grazes your knuckles.

You concentrate on it—the warmth of his skin and the remanence of smoke. You hate the smell, but right now, it’s entirely him. It pushes your frayed nerves aside and ironically lets you breathe easier.

After a few moments, you open your eyes—not realizing you closed them—and meet Billy’s.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, slightly embarrassed by how you pushed yourself onto him.

You inhale deeply and let it out before sitting up, still close enough that your hips touch.

“What do you need?” He keeps his voice low. You can't express how much that means to you.

You're not as on edge as you were, the shouts and laughs don’t make you tense as much, but you know if you move it'll get worse. You just need a minute…

“Can we go somewhere? Just for a bit?” It finally feels right to speak, like the words won’t get stuck in your throat and hurt your ears.

“You good to move?”

You like how he doesn’t say “yes.” He gets to the point—listens to your words and body language. And when you nod, he leads you to the side of the house surrounded by trees. 

When you can’t see anyone and the voices are muffled enough, you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his neck. His arms encircling your shoulders feel like a barrier between you and everything else.

You search for the dip of his spine, and your fingers twitch along it. The press of his cheek on your head comforts you.

He doesn’t sway or shift, only holds you with the steadiness you crave. 

And when you lift your head, he waits for your arms to loosen so his can, too.

You’re still touching each other as your eyes meet. Billy's hands are under your shoulder blades, yours on his ribs.

He waits, knowing too many questions will throw you back into that state. All you have to do is say the word, and he’d drive you home. He’d fill everyone in later and collect your stuff while you got in his car. He’d stay with you if you wanted, sit in your living room while you lay in bed, or stand together in your kitchen the rest of the day if it kept you grounded. Whatever you need.

You’re tracing the tattoo on his side without realizing it, and his chest clenches a little at how he's the one you sought out.

“Can we sit on the swing?” Your voice is slightly hoarse like you’re forcing it to stay hidden.

He glances toward the bench swing and nods when he knows no one’s there.

Again, he leads you, holding the swing steady so you can settle into the cushion first. As soon as he sits, you pull your legs underneath you and lean into his side.

You’re far enough away from everyone that they’d have to walk over to talk to you but close enough to watch as Will pushes Jonathan into the pool.

Billy’s arm is around your waist, hand secured on your hip. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he tilts his chin to whisper in your ear.

“Okay if I swing us?”

Slowly, you nod. And Billy gently rocks you both, waiting a few moments to see if you want him to stop. When you don’t say anything, he relaxes, kissing your head and keeping his lips there for a few moments longer.

It’s a gesture that makes you want to cry. You can feel the tears welling. If you focus on them, you know they’ll fall.

“Thank you.” Your meek tone makes him squeeze your hip.

“I’ve got you.”

—

You stayed there for almost an hour before you asked Billy if he could drive you home.

When you arrive, the thought of him leaving feels like one of your limbs is being ripped off. You want to hold yourself so you can try to keep your body intact.

But you don’t know how to ask him to stay. It’s like the words are stuck in your throat. So, you sit in his car for a moment. You can feel him looking at you. And you’re trying to force air into your lungs when he breaks the silence.

“Can I stay tonight?”

You nod, eyes soft in a way that tells him you’re still feeling like an exposed nerve.

Once you’re inside your apartment, you head straight into the shower. You’re not sure if you despise yourself or everyone at the party more, and you need to wash it all away.

Billy’s in your kitchen brewing you tea. Whether you drink it or not, holding the warm mug will comfort you.

He sets it on your nightstand. Then, strips himself of his shirt and shorts, climbing into your bed.

Yours is softer than his, and it smells like you. Whatever perfume you use always makes him a little dizzy—in the best way. 

There are photos scattered around. Some on your dresser and desk, one on each nightstand, and one peeking out of the top of the book you’re reading.

He opens it and smiles almost immediately.

It’s you and him at his birthday party. The first one he had since his mom left. You threw it for him. Surprised him and everything—cake, streamers, presents, the whole nine.

Jonathan took this one—among many others. You’re in Steve’s kitchen facing each other. Your hands are in mid-motion as you tell him a story, smile wide and eyes bright. And he’s grinning.

It’s obvious how he’s leaning closer to you—like you’re in your own bubble. And he’s happy he didn’t catch Jonathan taking the picture, or he’d have moved away. He would’ve pretended he wasn't enthralled by you. At that point, he didn’t realize what he felt for you.

You walk into the bedroom then. The smell of your shampoo drifting over.

Wordlessly, you settle into your side and sip your tea. You close your eyes for a moment. Breathe. Then place the mug back.

He’s about to ask you if it’s okay when you slip down and press yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pushing your face into his side.

He almost blushes. You’re so damn cute.

“Can you read to me?” you ask.

“I don’t read smut for free,” he teases.

You bury your nose in his side. “It’s not that.”

He chuckles, resting his arm around your shoulders and propping the book on his lap.

He reads five pages before you’re out.

When he realizes you’re asleep, he puts the book down and looks at you.

You’re so relaxed, eyelashes fluttering as you sink deeper and deeper.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve your trust. By some miracle, you feel safe with him.

Maybe…Maybe he doesn’t have to turn out like Neil.

Carefully, he lays down, pulls you onto his chest, and buries his nose in your hair.

He could stay like this forever.

The longer he breathes you in, the more sure he becomes.

You’re it for him. And it’s time he tells you.

Taglist: @moonlightfountain, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust, @nix-rose-q

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[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

[heartbreak-sandwich]

I just read a really good Billy Hargrove x Reader shower sex scene, so sorry not sorry.... NSFW incoming ~

But imagine hearing the heavy footsteps of Billy's boots as he makes his way up the stairs after a long day at work. You're already in the shower, the glass walls opaque with steam, and you hear him kick his boots off in the bedroom across the hall and sigh because it's been such a long day.

You're facing the hellfire temperature shower spray as he opens and closes the glass door, pressing himself up against your back, hands roaming over your stomach to pull you into his chest, the water droplets sliding in little crystal beads over his golden skin, cleaning away the grime of the day with every second that passes.

He whispers in your ear, "I've been thinking about this all day long," just before he nips playfully at your neck, working his hands up to cup around your chest, his nose running along the crook of your neck, lips traveling, placing heavy, needy kisses trailing down to your shoulder.

The water snakes down the curls falling over his eyes and brushing your skin, forming little streams that wind and trickle onto your chest and all the way down your front. It's the smallest sensation, but your body feels like a live wire from the heat of Billy pressed against your back and pulling you into him with a force that almost surprises you because you can feel how much he wants to take you here, and now, and just like this.

You close your eyes and whimper ever so slightly as his teeth sink down into your shoulder and you feel him touch you there.

You feel the sting of his bite turn to a smile against your skin as he lets out a low growl and muses, "I know you were touching yourself before I got here."

He keeps working that sweet spot that sets your knees on fire and makes your head swim, and he speeds up the rhythm when you finally let out a moan.

"I can tell. You're already making a mess for me."

[latelyanobsession]

oh, oh, can i do C for the billy alphabets? I've seen you do sfw and nsfw in the same post, so i hope that's alright, but if you don't feel like doing both then either one is fine by me! thank youuu <3

(gif not mine)

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Billy holds you at arm's length for a good long time until he's comfortable with you. He lets you latch onto him, hold his hand, wrap yourself in his denim jacket.... all the sappy things he's supposed to let you do. But he never initiates it, not until much later. When he puts his hand across the center console looking for yours. He jokingly holds open a wing of his jacket for you to climb into, before wrapping you in it like a baby bat.

He is the biggest softie™ this side of the Sierras. Will walk into the living room and see you laying on the couch, say nothing, and slink up your body and into your arms. He's particularly cuddly on hard days. You won't live to see daylight if you ever speak it, but there have been a couple of times on long dark nights, that he's climbed into your lap. "It's ok"s muttered into his hair as he rests his head on your shoulder, your hand stroking up and down his back to calm him.

On calmer days he's still a pretty needy lil guy, sitting close, your thighs touching or legs tangled lazily together as you study. Your foot absent-mindedly stroking his calf as you scribble out notes. If he's really relaxed he'll plop his head right in your lap and look at you expectantly. Get busy with the head pets and he'll just about melt. He's fallen asleep a handful of times that way.

In terms of him being the cuddler and not the cuddle-ee. Well, he's an expert at back rubs. He's still coming into his own. Learning that it's entirely ok to seek out your touch and that you won't reject him for it. Most of his initiated cuddles are small. Starting with yoking an arm over your shoulder or sitting close. He pulls you in, but always gives you enough space to leave because he's still not always sure that you won't... Almost always, you have to make it more intimate. Close the gaps. Wrap and lock your arms around him. Lay on him. Secure and ground him in place. Let him know you're going nowhere.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

I believe that Billy is the kinda person that goes whole hog when it comes to sex. Sex with him is nasty and messy. You're going to need more than a wet wipe afterward kinda messy.

Cum isn't the only bodily fluid that's going to be everywhere, but it's probably going to be the main one. If someone were to take a blacklight to you after being with him, you're gonna light up like a Christmas tree... or the most horrific 20/20 crime scene ever. You pick. But you get the picture.

Billy will mark you with it. Drip it on your tongue and smear it across your heated cheeks. Kiss you after you've thoroughly sucked him off just to shove his tongue down your throat and make sure his taste stays there. Pull out, painting your backside just to smack your ass and rub it in as he leans forward and grins right next to your face. Grabs your thigh gruffly and ruts himself against your sex, mixing your combined spendings in his grip before pressing it inside you. His eyes watching you with deeply intoxicated interest.

"You like that? Tell me."

As he pushes it deeper within you.

And he does the same for you, deriving an almost primal pleasure from burying his face in your groin, fingers digging into your skin until you're shaking.