#billy Hargove
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Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader
Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.
Link to: Part 1
@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!
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It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.
After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.
“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.
“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”
You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.
“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.
A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.
“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.
You instantly feel relieved.
“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”
“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”
“I’m good, thank you. And you?”
“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”
“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”
“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”
“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”
“See you.”
You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.
Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making you feel strange. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.
“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park.
“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”
“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”
His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."
“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.
“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.
“Good.”
When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back.
Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.
You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.
"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.
“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.”
His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne.
The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red.
"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.
Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”
You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.
“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.
“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.
Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”
“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.”
He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from.
You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.
“Those guys?”
“Yes.”
Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”
You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."
“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.”
You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…”
“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.
“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes.
“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.
You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?”
Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.
“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”
You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.
“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?”
Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California.
‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.
"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. “Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”
“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.
“Shit. That sucks.”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”
“Do you still have your record player?”
“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”
As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.
“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home.
Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart."
His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.
“But why?”
“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver.
“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively.
“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently.
There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.
“Guess so,” he mutters.
For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent?
Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”
He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.
“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"
Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you.
“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.”
The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.
“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul.
Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."
You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard.
“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur.
“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?”
“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”
“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”
Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”
“Yeah.”
Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.
“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”
“What do you mean?”
As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.
“I mean…” "I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”
The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.
“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”
“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you.
Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.
“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”
Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.
“Wanna give it a shot?”
You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up.
“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”
You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”
He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”
His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”
You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.
“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face.
“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”
Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”
You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.
“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”
“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”
A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”
“So nada, huh?”
One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.
“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.”
You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.
You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.
“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”
Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.”
You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.
#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargove#billy hargove x reader#billy hargove smut#billy hargrove x oc#dacre montgomery#stranger things smut#billy hargrove fic#billy hargrove x you#dacryphilia#slow burn#billy hargrove fluff#billy hargrove angst#eddie munson#billy hargrove x y/n
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It's Personal
Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
TW: Violence against Y/N (not via Billy), farfetched for the plot, Billy is mean, angst, possible cringe idk. We're all friends here. THE VIOLENCE IS DESCRIBED IN DETAIL FOR THE MOST PART. A little bit non-canon Billy, but if you're reading his dialogue as sassily and as dry as I'm writing it, it's not quite as jarring to his personality.
Notes: I literally just learned about the "Who did this to you?" Trope and now I'm giving it an angsty go. This is not smut, womp, womp. Also, I did the gifs like a picture book so you can kinda see the expression or energy I was going for.
Summary: Billy's been an ongoing bully/ nuisance in your life since you met. He's acting a little different after finding out you've been hurt.
"Can you try not to take up half the lecture dick-riding the professor?" Billy catches you as you're making your way across campus. He's always been an issue for you, ever since he moved here your junior year in high school. Now you're both freshmen in college. He'd taken a year off to pursue other outlets, but sometimes you're convinced he did it just to be able to torment you in college, seeing as he was always a grade above.
"What are you talking about, Billy?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. Already too exhausted from studying late the night before to deal with his endless harassment.
"I'm saying every time we have this course, you ask a million fucking questions the whole time," his voice is low, but filled with a palpable hate. Why does he dislike you so much? You've never known. You've never asked. "Try to save your desperation for after class, cool? It's hard to watch," He jabs, speed-walking ahead of you.
Most days, you'd say something back. A quip just as hateful, if not worse. You were his rival in every sense of the word. The two of you even shared the same genre of fashion sense. You stole his spotlight, and he doesn't like it, so he notices when your venom is running low. You're silent the entire lecture, not because of what Billy said to you, but because you're tired.
Your study session only ran so late because you and your boyfriend spent most of the day arguing. The gaslighting is constant, and his moods have become more and more unstable and harder to navigate. You tell yourself over and over that you love him. You've loved him since you were young. He's your high school sweetheart. Andy was on the basketball team in high school and while that type usually didn't take to a hair-metal gal like you, he seemed so smitten when you met.
The room is dismissed and you try to file out long before Billy can make it to the door. He laughs at your desperate attempt to get away. Like a cockroach scurrying away from a suddenly illuminated bulb. You're not fast enough and as he passes you before you reach the exit to the building, he leans over and taunts you in your ear.
"It's about time you listened," he hisses and walks away laughing. You're indifferent. Nothing he says could hurt the way Andy's words do. You tune everything out to make room for your insecure thoughts to take over. You blame yourself for Andy's rapid change in personality. What could you have done to make him feel like this toward you? Your mind is far too occupied by these untrue concerns, that you barely feel the anxiety settle in until you get back to your dorm. It was a bit more pricey on your tuition, but your scholarship allowed you to have a dorm room for yourself. Instead of another bed, it has a small "living room" area.
With a deep, grounding sigh, you reach for the door handle and step inside. Things are fine. Andy greets you with a smile and kisses you sweetly as you set your things down by the door. You're pleasantly surprised, allowing all the toxic thoughts circling your mind to melt away under his gentle touch.
"How was class?" He asks.
"It was fine. Nothing spectacular," you giggle, smiling warmly, overtly relieved that he's not still upset with you. You can barely recall what he was angry about, to begin with. You snuggle into him as you both relax on the couch. He stares straight ahead as he opens his mouth to speak.
"One of my buddies said he saw you talking to that Steve guy," Andy's voice becomes colder, and you realize it was all a trap. You're wrapped in his arms, feeling his body go rigid as you hesitate to answer. "Y/N." He finally looks down at you, meeting your anxious gaze.
"Oh, uh," your throat goes dry. "I did talk to him. He was a little late and just needed the notes from the first section. I charged him five bucks." You begin to ramble, hoping to defuse the situation before he explodes. "He's still going steady with that Debra girl, too. She's in my journalism class. I bet those cookie-cutter losers end up married, honestly."
"You know I don't like you talking to other guys without me." Andy clenches his jaw.
"I know! I completely understand, too. You know I love how possessive you are, babe. It's hot," you're desperate and hopeful that stroking his ego will put this anger to bed. "There were so many people around, so I was thinking nothing could happen." You furrow your brow at your own words. "Your friend was even there to make sure!"
Andy's grip around you tightens, nearly cutting off your ability to fill your lungs just using one arm.
"I don't ask you for a lot, Y/N." His free hand reaches up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes, though you weren't looking away to begin with. "Don't make me look like a fool." When he loosens his grip, your lungs inflate with a loud gasp and his shift in position slides you off the couch, into the floor with a small thud. Now you're angry. The two of you have screamed at each other plenty of times, but how dare he act so bold?
"Andy," you stand, hovering over him where he remains on the couch. His arched brows frame his bright eyes with anger. "Get out." He smirks, and it fills you with unease. Standing from the couch, he takes one step forward, nearly chest to chest with you, if it weren't for the dramatic height difference. He towers over you, stealing the feeling of power you thought you were cultivating.
"What'd you just say to me?" He asks with a sociopathic smile.
"I said," You swallow hard. "Get. The fuck. Out." You barely get a chance to speak the last word of your sentence before a fast, hard open hand meets your cheek, knocking you to the ground, and almost sending you across the room, it felt like.
"Do not ever talk to me like that just because you got caught," Andy's words are full of anger. You stare at him with wide eyes, arching your brow in an expression that asks him who the fuck he thinks he is. He storms out of the dorm, but you know he'll be back. And after these events, you're scared to try and stop him. His college teammates are at every corner, it seems. It's as if ever since Jason went out of state for college, they all bend to Andy's will. Losers. Andy doesn't come home until after you've fallen asleep. You stayed up as late as your body could take, but he wasn't back in bed until 5 AM. You have no idea where he's been.
The next day, it's your misfortune that you and Billy share yet another class. This one was early in the morning rather than yesterday's afternoon lecture. You're running on very little sleep, and the trauma of Andy snapping and putting his hands on you. It's just something you could never even fathom. The way he would kiss the ground you walked on when you first met, how could he? You're more than distracted, staring directly at the floor as you walk until you run flat into someone else in the hall.
"I stood here, completely still, to see if you'd notice. I guess other people don't exist to you, huh, princess?" He mocks you. It's not long before he notices the dark bags under your lifeless eyes and the speckles of red that have risen in the hazy shape on the side of your face. Assuming it's an allergic reaction like you had back in high school, he didn't hold back. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You look like shit."
"Still look better than you could pull, pussy," you sneer, shoving past him. "Don't fucking make me late." He steps in front of you again, knowing neither of you is late because he's on the same schedule.
"What happened to your face? It looks like your boyfriend had to tell you twice," he bursts out laughing at his distasteful joke. You can feel your blood begin to boil. You no longer wish to exchange hateful comments. Now you want to hurt him. You want to hurt Billy the way Andy hurts you. You can't swing on him, so you take your next best shot.
"Yeah? How many times did your mom have to tell you before she just gave up and left?" You boldly stare Billy in the eyes, hoping so badly that none of Andy's henchmen see the two of you going at it. Billy's jaw is rigid, and you can see it tighten as he grinds his teeth, subduing his emotions. You've never come at him like that, it wasn't expected. His taunting smirk is long gone.
"Are you trying to get your fucking ass kicked, Y/L/N?" Billy's disgusted with himself the minute he says it. Of course, he doesn't mean that. He'll drive you into an early grave, but it's never been in his moral compass to hurt a woman the way his father hurt his mom. He wants to rescind the rhetorical threat, but his ego just clamps his lips shut. Your eye twitches as you wonder what else you've got to lose. Or would Andy hit you again for letting another man kick your ass? Your thoughts are exaggerated and full to the brim with frustration. You finally explode.
"Fucking do it then, Billy! Swing! Hit me, motherfucker!" You drop your belongings and stomp toward him and he's unsure how to react now that you've called him on his bluff/ intrusive thought.
"Calm the fuck down. You look ridiculous," Billy takes a cautious step back.
"No, let's go outside. Let's see how hard you can hit someone half your fucking height, pussy!" You're nearly causing a scene, but the building is empty for the hour. Tears well in your eyes and you refuse to let up, demanding he act on his "big, scary" threat. He won't. He stares at your watery, red eyes. Your face is flushed and only your cheeks, nose, and around your eyes hold any pigment. He essentially waits until you tire yourself out.
"You've gotta do something about that shit, Y/N. You're fucking losing it," he shakes his head.
"I'm not losing any-fucking-thing, Hargrove. Don't ever mistake me for a bitch you can scare off with an empty fucking threat," you spit, grabbing your things and taking off, leaving Billy standing confused in the empty hallway.
"What the fuck was that?" He questions aloud. He has no idea you've been drained with no way to recharge. You've been hurt with no way to heal. To him, you're losing your goddamn mind. After that, he's not even angry at your comment anymore. He's just, concerned? Maybe just curious, really. After all, he's supposed to be your burden. Anything else takes the attention off of him.
The class is long and just like yesterday, you're quiet when you usually never stop engaging. Even the professor notices, and she asks you to linger behind after the lecture is over.
"Hey, Y/N. What's up? You were so quiet today," the professor's soft voice is sweet to your ears.
"I've just been, um, tired." You shake your head, barely convincing yourself.
"Is that a bruise on your cheek, honey?" The kind, older woman asks with two hands resting on her coffee mug. Just outside the open door, Billy waits for you to pass by before he realizes you're staying behind. He scoots as close to the door as he can, flat along the wall, listening.
"A bruise," he whispers to himself, recalling what he thought was a rash. His stomach almost attempts to simulate the feeling of guilt as he remembers the joke he made at you. The one that set you off.
"Oh, no. It's a reaction. New laundry detergent fucked me up," you stop yourself. "Messed me up, sorry."
"Y/N, you're an adult. I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, but it's very clearly not hives," the professor sighs, her eyes full of concern as she stares at the ever-developing bruise as it slowly takes the shape of a hand. "Is it another student at the University?"
"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm dealing with a lot right now. I will see you on Wednesday. Goodbye." You snatch your things up and zip toward the door, holding your breath. The wind from your speed walking blows your hair back, giving Billy a perfect view of the hand-shaped bruise yellowing on the side of your face. You're too determined to get out of there to react to his eavesdropping, so the two of you just share a look, and you keep going.
Billy furrows his brow. He's unsure you even have a boyfriend, so who exactly is leaving bruises like that right, front and center on your face? After his last course of the day, Billy congregates with his friends at a nearby frat house belonging to a different college.
"Hey, Tommy," Billy calls his friend's attention. Tommy pulls himself away from the group of guys he was laughing with and sits across from Billy. "You know that Y/N girl? Lots of denim, nice ass?" It's not until the last two descriptors that Tommy recalls who you are. Figures.
"Yeah, what about her?"
"What's her deal? She dating anybody?" Billy asks, innocently enough.
"I don't know, man. Why do you always ask me about shit like that?" Tommy laughs.
"Because you gossip like a woman," Billy smirks, standing from his slouched position on the couch and grabbing a beer from the large, ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. "She's some annoying broad in a couple of classes with me. I thought I'd ask around and see if there's a reason she never shuts her goddamn mouth." Both of them laugh at his hateful remark, but it's true to him. You get on his nerves, but it's less what you say, and more so the fact that you do "him" better than him. The men drink irresponsibly and cause a ruckus until late, late at night where they then wander back to their campus/ dorms on foot.
You wake up in the morning finally feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, despite the sudden changes in your relationship. You look over to see Andy's side of the bed is empty. You assume he slept over at the frat house after getting too fucked up. You know he likes to party.
Sitting comfortably on your couch, watching an episode of your favorite show, though it's a rerun, you involuntarily flinch when you hear the door open. Andy slightly stumbles through, laughing with messy hair. His clothes seem disheveled, but you chalk it up to drunken hijinks.
"Hey, babe! Did you have fun?" You ask, smiling, beaming, really. Hoping the sound of his laughter is a sign he's in a good mood this morning.
"Huh?" He looks over at you as if he didn't notice your existence until you spoke.
"I was just asking if you had a good time. Sorry I couldn't go with you, I was just too tired," you laugh.
"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it when it's just me and the guys, actually." His confession makes you a little sad, but you try to understand.
"Got any plans for today?" You grin, letting your guard down.
"For the love of God, dude. Can I get in the door first?" He snaps.
"Okay... Sorry," you quieted yourself down at first, but then quickly realized that's not who your daddy raised. You're getting ready to confront him again despite the smack until you notice something that makes your stomach drop, a small trail of three faint hickeys along your long-term boyfriend's neck. "Babe. Where did those come from?"
"What are you talking about?" He groans, throwing himself on the couch next to you, gripping your thigh possessively.
"I'm talking about the hickeys on your neck, Andy. Where did they come from?" Your voice is low and shaky. "Just you and the guys, huh?"
"Don't start with this shit again, Y/N. I'm too hungover." He dismisses you entirely, and all the rage you'd been holding back to be the "cool girlfriend" comes pouring out.
"You knocked me to the floor for looking at Steve Harrington! You put your hands on me for some made-up story you formulated in your own head and now you're coming home with hickyes?!" The longer you scold him, the darker his expression becomes.
"I'm giving you one fucking chance to get on your fucking knees right now and apologize," Andy's unsettlingly calm. You're frozen. Too scared to be openly defiant, but too angry to fold at his command. "One... Two..." He stands, softly placing a hand on your cheek and sliding it up into your hair, gracefully scraping the tips of his fingers behind your ear. It's so soft and soothing, that the sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and just as they're about to open again, he closes his fist around a large portion of your hair and forces you to the ground.
"Andy!" You scream, both terrified and in pain.
"I'm so sick of this, Y/N. I'm sick of you," he growls through gritted teeth, holding you painfully at his side like a heeling dog.
"God damn it, stop! It's fucking over! Fuck whoever you want!" You cry, shifting your position against him in hopes of loosening the pull against your scalp.
"And let you whore yourself out to every other guy on campus? Fuck off. You're mine." He finally releases your hair, tossing you forward in front of him. He kneels down to get closer to your face, speaking lowly. "I heard Hargrove's been asking about you. Think you're safe with your playboy side-piece?"
"He's not my side-piece! Please, Andy. Why are you being like this?" You hold a hand up to defend yourself.
"You think I don't see you two whispering to each other? You think you're smart enough to hide anything from me?" Andy's voice is slowly rising in volume. You worry the other students will hear the commotion. You don't want to lose your solo dorm rights seeing as men aren't supposed to "live" with women in the dorms.
"He's a dick, dude! I fucking hate the guy, please stop!" Your makeup is trailing down your face as you continue to cry for mercy. He shakes his head at the scene.
"I tried warning you. I tried getting my point across to you, but you won't hear me," he sighs as he snatches your hair back into his fist in one, quick, snake-like action. You wail at the aching tug, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. Just as you go to open them, you see his hand flying toward you. It starts with open-handed smacks, knocking the wind out of you from how bad they hurt, but he progresses until he's landing blow after blow, all over you. Anywhere he can reach as you try to block him.
Eventually, you're badly roughed up, and Andy stands to look at what he's done. The remaining alcohol seems to clear from his system as the reality of his actions sets in.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he mumbles, tearing his shirt off as it's stained with your blood. He shoves it deep into the trashcan and disappears to wash the evidence of the horrors against you off of his hands. He returns to where you lie in the living room. He's wearing a fresh shirt and his breath heaves as he stares at your seemingly unconscious body. You're awake though, barely. Holding your breath as long as possible, only allowing the shallowest of breaths, basking in the stillness after the abhorrent beating.
Andy bolts out the door and after a few moments of silence, loud sobs of relief and pain emit from your sore chest. You roll over into a ball, holding yourself close as you process everything. You mourn who you were before the person you trusted most betrayed you. You mourn your relationship, regardless of the last few days. You mourn your own face as you imagine the recovery process will be long and draining. You lie there for a while until night falls.
Once it's dark out, you sneak to the old gym building to use the showers there, hoping to avoid running into anyone and having to answer any questions about your battered appearance. No one uses the old gym because it's full of spiders and has a terrible draft, but it's still open to the students 24/7. It's your run-of-the-mill college basketball court with a weight room and showers.
You get inside the building and listen to the silence of the empty halls. Peace. You're numb now. You've cried all you can, and the pain has become a dull hum. Now you just want to shower and try to find yourself beneath all the blood. You scale the walls of the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel what you can only imagine is human flesh.
"Oh fuck!" You and the mystery person exclaim in unison, startled by each other's presence. Still on edge, you duck down, covering your face. The light flips on and you recognize the sweaty figure who stands before you. Billy. He comes to this gym for privacy in the weight room and always has. Not as confident as his demeanor would lead you to believe.
"Had to be you, didn't it?" He rolls his eyes. "Did you come here to- Oh fuck, Y/N." His uncreative insult is cut short when you lower your arms, revealing the massacre of swollen features and bloody skin that used to be your face. His mouth hangs open for a moment. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, shut the fuck up. Like you fucking care, Hargrove. Get out of my way," you're angry, and it feels like you'll be angry forever.
"Hey," he stops you from walking past him by stepping in your path. "I said what happened?" His voice sounds different. Like you've never heard before. Uncharacteristically concerned, but don't let that fool you. It's still not a lot of concern and it's quite monotoned. His eyes search yours for any kind of answer and it's the least arched his brow has ever been. He's being so... Quiet. You're silent too, stunned by his behavior.
"Thought you were gonna kick my ass too, Billy. You scared now?" Your remark is meant to be a bold taunt, but your voice cracks as you fight for your life to hold back tears.
"Y/N, I'm serious. Who did this to you?" He asks sternly, losing patience by the minute. You still can't seem to trust him enough to open up, so you look down at the ground in silence. "Fuck it. Come on." Billy's long legs float him swiftly down the hall and you hesitate to follow, ultimately deciding all these years arguing with Billy have at least felt better than the last three days with Andy. He leads you to the empty men's locker room where he retrieves an old first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the coach's office, then he makes his way to a locker and retrieves a clean shirt. It's soft and worn in and has the name of your university written across the front.
"Thanks," you mumble, taking the box and other supplies from him. You douse the shirt in water and begin to try to wipe your face clean. There's no mirror, so you can't quite tell what you're doing, causing you to scrape over your open wounds and flinch.
"Just fucking," Billy snatches the damp shirt from you. "Let me do it." He's careful and thorough as he gently works the soft, wet fabric across the new and old blood covering your identity. You can't help but stare at his eyes as they focus so intently on each section of your face that he wipes clean. Just as he's finishing up, his eyes meet yours for a moment. It's a short, little second, but it felt so drawn out. Billy breaks the eye contact when he sets the shirt to the side.
"That should be okay, for now." He reaches for the kit in your hands.
"I can do it, Billy," you remind him, yanking the box away, rejecting any more gentle touch. It doesn't feel like you deserve it right now.
"Let me help," he demands softly, popping the little tin box open and rummaging around for bandaids and antibiotic ointment. He patches you up and while he's working, you're watching his intense face. His brows are arched and his lips every so slightly pursed. You can't clock what emotion he's feeling. Obviously, he's expressing some sort of sympathy, but he hates you. He always has. So maybe he's just having a human moment.
"What's the matter with you, man? Are you fucking with me?" Your guard begins to rise again. You don't trust your own intuition anymore. You tighten your grip around a plastic pair of scissors from the first-aid kit. Billy notices and releases a laughing sigh.
"No, I'm not fucking with you." He places one final bandage. "You're insufferable as fuck, but I don't think you had this coming." He looks you up and down. That's as close as Billy can get to "comforting" anyone. "Don't stab me with those." He points to your hand and you blush, a little embarrassed by your overly-cautious behavior.
"Why do you hate me, Billy?" You ask, point blank as you release the scissors, catching him off guard.
"Because you're the worst. You're loud, you're egotistical, you're an ugly crier," he chuckles, all too quickly, being put on the spot.
"You're just describing yourself," you knit your brows, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes after his ugly cry comment. "I'm serious. You'd think we'd have so much in common. You hated me the second we met. Why?"
"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm putting bandaids on your split fucking eyebrow. You're just fun to get a rise out of." Billy closes the kit and tosses it aside with the bloody shirt. It's not news to him that he torments you because of a mix of annoyance and attraction, but you have no idea. What started as his catty attempts to pick you up turned into an all-out rivalry when you were the first girl to tell him to shut the fuck up instead of batting your eyelashes at him. To you, he's just a mean dude. But right now, it's like he's someone else entirely. When he's acting like this, you're finally able to see what makes him so irresistible to every girl on campus. Your rivalry kept you blind to it, but now, you can see his brilliant teeth in his wide, warm smile. You can see his sunflower eyes, framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His jawline, his shoulders, everything about him seems so beautiful to you now.
"Thank you, Billy," you smile weakly. He scans your swollen features and something in him awakens. A possessiveness. Rage ensues. Every opinion of you he's ever had melts away except for his attraction to you. Your voice, your mannerisms, everything he's ever absolutely torn you to shreds for, suddenly he admits to himself that it never bothered him. In his eyes, you're his, even if you're just a target for his teasing, a bit of banter around the school, you're still his.
"You never said who did it," Billy chews his inner lip, trying to keep calm until he gets the information he needs from you.
"It doesn't matter-"
"It matters. Who was it?" His voice is stern and sharp. He's still knelt close to you even though he's done tending to your wounds.
"It just... Happened so fast..." You flinch as you recall opening your eyes to his incoming hand.
"Start from the beginning," the sternness in his voice softens. You give him the full run down. Billy's face remains stone, motionless, but his eyes twitch and flutter with each gruesome new detail dragging him further down to the point of no return.
"We've been together so long. I never thought..." You hold your hands up in confusion, dropping them hopelessly in your lap.
"A name. Now." Billy stares deep into your eyes as he makes his demands. You can almost feel a heat coming off his gaze as it bores into you. It's clear he will not relent until he gets the answer he's asking for.
"His name is Andy." That's all Billy needs before he's standing up and exiting the locker room without another word. "Billy?" You call after him, still sitting on the bench. You finally stand to follow when you don't hear a response from him. "Why do you care?" This stops him in his tracks. He turns around for a second as if he's going to explain, but he never does. He tilts his head with a small shrug and disappears. "Wait!" You call, but the exit door is already closing behind him and he stalks off into the dimly lit campus. He sparks up a cigarette on the way, exhaling a large cloud behind him. Andy better have life insurance.
Billy ponders your question as he makes his way across the courtyard. Regardless of any flirtatious feelings he has for you, this comes down to wishing he could've defended his mother in this same way. He was too small then, he's not now, and Andy's about to face the full extent of that rage extending all the way back to his childhood. For now, it's personal.
You take the time alone to have a quick shower to wash away the blood in your hair and hopefully make yourself feel a little better. You're careful not to get your face wet and ruin Billy's careful doctoring. Once your shower is finished, you grab your bag and head back to your dorm. It's still dark, so you keep close to the dim, yellow street lamps that lead to the student housing. There's a dull hum that vibrates from each light post, it's all you can hear, all you can focus on to make yourself stop thinking about Billy.
Back at your place, you lock the door as many times as possible before shakily taking a seat on the small couch. You flip the TV on, just to have something to fill the silence. Every time someone passes by your door, your heart rate leaps and you lose control of your breathing. After the third or fourth time it happens, you seem to desensitize. Billy's new demeanor he has toward you is all you can think about. The softness of his words, his touch. You didn't think he was capable of it. You curl up, pulling your legs to your chest as you snuggle into the plush cushions, nearly dozing off, trying to remember the way his shirt smelled when he was using it to clean you up.
Billy's hell-bent on getting his hands on Andy, tonight. Crossing the lot, he reaches his car and slides inside. His face is blank as he stares ahead, with only one objective in mind. He follows the sound of blaring house music to a nearby frat house and angrily tears the door open. Wasting no time, he walks right up to the first person he sees.
"Where's Andy?" He asks, yelling over the music. The first few people have no idea who he's looking for until he comes to Tommy. "Where's Andy?"
"Andy from Econ? He's upstairs. Dude's super stressed about something and took a bottle up there. Finals, man." Tommy laughs, but Billy's already walking away before he's even finished his sentence. The entire party becomes muffled beats in his ears as he climbs the stairs in pursuit of the man who made you look like a bad Halloween decoration.
First door, nothing. Second door, nothing. Third door, Billy slings it open and a stressed out, curly-haired brunette man jumps out of his skin.
"Fuck, dude! You fucking scared me!" He exclaims.
"You Andy?" Billy asks, already breathless with anticipation.
"I- yeah? Why?" Billy answers his question by crossing the room in the blink of an eye and scooping him up by his shirt. He slams Andy against the wall, eyes wide with unbound rage. "What the fuck are you doing, man?!" The commotion can't be heard over the party below. It's just the two of them.
"You know how much of a pussy you gotta be to beat up on someone half your height?" Billy strains through gritted teeth. This is a thin reference to what you said to him when he let his emotions cloud his judgment and threatened to kick your ass.
"Wait... Y/N? She's alive? Jesus Christ..." Andy's eyes nearly roll back with relief and Billy looks at him disgusted.
"What? You thought you beat her to death? Then, you just left her there and went to a party?" Billy raises his eyebrows, almost seeming to smile. "That's fucked up, man." He slams Andy against the wall again, harder, to accentuate his point.
"Come on, dude. Whatever she told you-"
"I'm not here to talk about her." Billy silences your cruel, long-time partner. "Right now, we're not gonna talk at all."
"Dude-" Billy tosses the guy to the floor, cutting off his futile begs.
"I think right now, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you," Billy kneels at Andy's side. "And then I'm gonna go fuck your girlfriend."
Billy lands punch after punch, unintentionally mirroring the way Andy laid into you. The only difference is that Billy's got a lot more size, muscle, and strength training than Andy. He lays into him, pummeling in any way he can figure out to mimic all the bruises and blood he could see on you. Billy grips Andy's shirt by the shoulders and forcefully pulls him to his feet just to uppercut him in the stomach, over and over. Blood and saliva fly from Andy's mouth as Billy hooks his fist up against his stomach.
When he's finally done, Andy's no more than a gargling mess on the floor. Properly bloodied just like he left you. Once again, Billy kneels down to Andy, establishing dominance and reminding him who he's fucking with now.
"If you come near her again," Billy inhales and exhales a shuddering breath as adrenaline continues to surge through him. "I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. There is no hiding, I will fucking kill you." His threat is no more than a low whisper before he stands and leaves Andy to wallow in his filth.
Billy's drive back is short and sweet, but he doesn't trust Andy or his entourage of prissy jock boys, so he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot in front of the women's dorms, and makes his way to yours. He's always known which one you stay in, though finding out was an accident while he was being snuck in by one of his one-night-stands. It was common practice, hence why Andy pretty much lived with you since he had a shared dorm on the men's side.
He raises his hand to bang on the door, but hesitates, knocking softly and even calling your name through the door so you'd know it was him.
"Y/N, it's Billy." You smile with relief, still steadying your anxiety from his initial knock.
"Billy? How did you know which dorm was mine?" You question as you pull the door open.
"I knocked on every single one. And asked for you by name. At 11 PM." He looks at you, straight-faced, annoyed that you think so little of him.
"Are you fucking serious? They'll crucify me," you sigh, unsure if you can even feel any more stress at this point.
"I'm fucking with you. I know where your dorm is because I pay attention."
"And here I thought I was so annoying," you chuckle. There's a short silence between you, something unheard of for you two. "Do you, um, wanna come in?" You step to the side, inviting him in. Nervous, but not sure why. He's never had that effect on you before.
"No, you're coming with me."
"I am?" You raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I just stirred up a lot of shit, probably. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here alone." His words are compassionate, but the delivery is so blank, that you'd think he didn't actually care at all.
"Oh, alright. Let me grab some stuff." You gather your things and follow Billy to his light blue Camaro. He opens the door for you, but even he's wearing an expression that says this is a foreign act of kindness for him. He closes the door and takes his spot in the driver's seat. Billy glances over at you, but you're peering out the car window, searching the shadows for movement. The copper-colored light shining from the street lamp illuminates the high points of your face, exposing your expression as he watches the anxiety dissolve into comfort. Something about being the cause of it strokes his already inflated ego.
"You know what?" You break the silence, turning to meet Billy's gaze.
"What?"
"Contrary to the way my face and body look right now, he really can't hit that hard." You raise your eyebrows and nod, reassuring him that you mean that with your whole chest.
"I wouldn't know. I didn't give him a chance to swing." His grip around the steering wheel tightens, but he grins proudly.
"Don't worry, I took enough for the both of us," you joke, earning a shocked laugh from the curly-haired man you positively loathed just a day or so ago.
"I dunno. I think you could've taken him if the circumstances were different," he smirks at you, chin up.
"Oh, absolutely. If the emotional ties weren't there, we'd at least have gone a round or two," you mimic boxing the dashboard. It's obvious to both of you that this is not the case, but making a joke of a bad situation is a lot easier than crying. Billy's relieved, as he would have zero idea how to even approach you if you were crying. He's the "tell you you're not a pretty crier and then wonder why you cry harder" type of guy.
"Matter of fact, put me back in coach," you chuckle, accidentally reopening the split on your lip. "Oh, fuck," you mumble, pressing a finger to the wound, worsening the mess.
"Shit," Billy grabs a napkin from his glove box. "Don't touch it," he snaps. You quickly pull your hand away from your face and for just a moment, your breath hitches in your chest. You don't mean to react this way, you're not scared of him, you hope he knows that. He gives a small smile and a nod, almost like a silent apology for scaring you. He holds the napkin to your lip for you as he pulls into the Men's dorm parking lot. His family, much like yours, paid the extra fees to have a large dorm room all to himself. It was sort of a necessity for Billy considering his short temper and inability to compromise.
"How's your lip?" He asks as you set your overnight bag on his small futon in the tiny living area the solo dorms come with.
"It's fine. I think the bleeding stopped and everything," you smile, keeping it small so as not to pop open another split.
"You can take my bed. I got the futon," once again, his words are so kind and generous, but his tone is flat and bare.
"Don't be stupid. I'm your guest. You've..." You sneer at yourself in disgust as you prepare your next sentence. "You've done a lot for me already."
"God," he stares at you with wide eyes.
"What?"
"It looked like you were gonna be sick from saying that out loud."
"Came pretty close, bud." You squint your eyes. It's clear to both of you that this is weird. It's awkward and even a little uncomfortable. He's done so much for you, yes, and you do feel it outweighs all the innocent hell you gave each other, but where do you go from here?
"So, now what? I sleep here. We go to tomorrow's lectures. Then, I just go back to normal?" You don't want to insinuate that you expect him to play bodyguard forever, but it would be kind of nice. You lie the futon into its flat, bed position as you ask.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. 'Night." Billy climbs into his bed.
"Goodnight, Billy," you say, lowering the tough-gal front you attempt to keep up, usually when you aren't dealing with shit like this. Your voice sounds different when you let your walls down. It's sweeter. And the sound of it makes Billy's chest light.
In the safety of Billy's dorm, sleep finds you swiftly. You're out like a light, but Billy can't say the same. He lies with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. His mind is incoherent, bouncing all over from the possibility of the entire college sports program jumping him to the thought of you and him going back to "normal." It all started when he saw you, thought you were hot, but learned pretty quickly how self-assured you are. You would never be the easy catch he was used to and it pissed him off, igniting a multi-year feud between you. What if that feud were to end?
Billy lies on his back, his two muscular arms propped beneath the back of his head. He glances diagonally in the direction where you sleep. You're peacefully out, features slowly healing from the damage. He could stare at you all night, and that pisses him off too. He rolls his eyes and expels an exasperated sigh before rolling over, hoping that keeping his back faced in your direction will help shield him from the ambiguous thoughts invading his mind.
The next day, you're awake long before him, and to avoid overstepping, you rush through your morning hygiene routine and begin to reset the futon. You're as quiet as possible, but the second your fingertips graze the doorknob, Billy stirs.
"No," he says, wiping a hand over his face to rub the sleep away. "Just give me a minute. We'll go together." He sounds annoyed. You shake your head, dropping yourself down onto the futon while you wait for him to wake up.
"It's really no rush. I gotta get back across campus to get ready anyways." You call to him as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom.
"I know you do. I'll drive you, just give me a minute," he waves away your excuses to leave without him, his voice becoming a little harsh as he repeats his request for more time. You know walking across campus isn't a treacherous walk. It's long, sure, but not unmanageable. What's really at stake is you running into anyone from the basketball team. And while that's your main concern, Billy has his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep you around. She's nice to look at, he tells himself, but it's more than that.
He walks from one end of the dorm to the other, wearing nothing but a dark grey pair of boxers. He's so lean and huge with well-toned muscles. He must spend a lot of time in the old weight room. You begin to wonder if Andy's in the hospital or not. Your eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the V shape at his waist. You're unsure if it's your newfound ability to see him as a person, or maybe a trauma bond, but this man has you feeling out of character.
"Alright, car." He points out the door, using his primitive two-word command to instruct you to get into his car. He's still waking up.
"Billy, you know I could've just come back by myself, right? You didn't have to get up so early." You're the first to break the sleepy morning silence in the car. He looks at you like you've suggested possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.
"I know that. That's stupid. You're too trusting." Billy stares straight ahead through his black sunglasses.
"I guess," you shrug, not taking anything he says too seriously. How could you after all these years? He pulls into the Women's dorm lot and the two of you approach your personally decorated dorm room door. To your horror, the doorknob opens with ease. You forgot to lock it. A wary breath falls down your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, grounding yourself before opening the door. Billy's confused until he finally sees inside. It's just as you suspected. The entire room, top to bottom, is trashed- thoroughly.
"What the fuck?" Billy inserts himself in front of you, taking a few steps inside to further assess the damage. His eyes narrow in anger as he catalogs every broken picture frame and demolished knick-knack. You seemed to have had a lot of curiosities and oddities, all of which were destroyed on your equally ruined floor.
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna lose it," you whisper, exasperated. You place your fingers on your temples and apply gentle pressure in hopes that it'll do any fucking thing for the way you're about to break the fuck down right now. "They want me to fuckin' lose it." Your voice is nearly inaudible.
"Hey, okay. Don't... Lose it. Let's go find 'em and beat the fuck out of 'em." Billy grins, still bloodthirsty. It's as if defending you almost feels like having you.
"I'm gonna get dressed. I'm gonna fix my fucking hair and makeup. And we're gonna go to our goddamn morning classes. This afternoon, we will figure out which one of them is getting their mom's severed middle finger in the mail."
"Sure thing, Killer Klown. That's not at all an overreaction." Billy shakes his head, laughing at your misfortune, though he does feel for you. You disappear into your restroom. It's miraculously, for the most part, untouched. You do a quick version of your usual big, glamour hair and slap on your makeup. It feels good to look like you again, even with the scabs and colorful bruises threatening to peek through the foundation. When you return to the common area, looking and feeling more like yourself, you radiate a type of glow. Billy catches himself in the very initial stage of staring but quickly nips that in the bud. You hardly notice.
"I guess I'm ready. You walking me to class, big guy?" You ask, teasingly.
"I am."
"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but this isn't nes-"
"Y/N, have you looked at your dorm? Do you see how every single thing you own is destroyed? Stop being an idiot." His harsh words carry an air of motivation with them as he scolds you.
"Fine. But you're gonna have to pick up the pace or something," you snap your fingers repeatedly, in a circle to show him it's time to leave, now. He sighs, standing and leading the way out the door.
He walks you to your first lecture and waits outside for the entire hour. You don't know, but he actually doesn't have any classes today. He just knew you'd make a big deal out of it if you knew he was going any more out of his way than he already is. All 60 minutes drag by painfully slow, but all the while, Billy notices a few familiar faces casting passing glances into the building, only to suddenly change direction when their eyes meet his. He huffs out a satisfied sigh.
"Don't even think about it," he whispers, staring out the small door window. He glances at the clock, and just a moment before the lecture hall dismisses, he steps outside and waits for the crowd. After a handful of peers pass by, he then walks inside, keeping up his ruse.
"Oh, just in time, I guess," you say, meeting him in the middle of the breezeway as if he'd come from the other end of the college.
"As always," Billy sighs, unbothered, indifferent. You don't mind. It's a peaceful shift from his usual behavior before everything went down. The two of you step out the door and immediately, your eyes meet Andy's. He is standing around his car with his goons. They're all staring, not at Billy, at you. An intimidation tactic that might've worked before, had you not been walking next to a brick wall of a man. As the two of you strut past the bitter sportsmen, you hear Andy decide to pipe up.
"Told you she was a slut. It's already happening," he laughs and his teammates join in. You are unfazed by this sort of insult. Before the trauma at the hands of Andy that you'll now have to work through, you've always been a confident, self-assured person. At least that's all you'd allow anyone to believe. You shake your head at the insult, but when you look beside you, Billy's nowhere to be seen.
"That's pretty bold Andy. How're you healing? Doctor already tell you it's safe to get your shit rocked again?" Billy smiles sadistically as he stalks up to Andy. His crew of bench warmers seems to tighten up, taking a few steps closer, surrounding Andy. Billy can't hold back his laughter.
"Are you guys gonna jump me?" He asks, taunting, grinning as he does. "You think it's gonna be easy because there are so many of you?" Billy's only getting closer by the second, and the confidence of most of the players begins to waver. "Do you think I'll stop if I get my hands on you a second time?" Billy's icy blue eyes are dark with rage, almost black in the right lighting. They bore into Andy's and the two men fall silent.
Eventually, Andy's the one to back down. As expected, of course. And from the look on his face, you'd think he'd just been mugged and told his mom died. Billy smiles, tongue between his teeth as he watches the team climb into their cars. They have a visitors game, so you won't have to deal with them for the next 48 hours at least. As Billy returns to where you wait for him on the sidewalk, he wraps a protective arm around your shoulder. You're visibly jarred by this action, but Billy just stares straight ahead, leading you back to your dorm. He's wearing a self-satisfied grin as each and every busybody on campus whispers when they see the two of you.
Billy's a known bachelor and you're a known bitch. Even his more reoccurring hookups never got the public treatment. And you, fuck you're mean sometimes. Andy liked that about you. You'd be mean to anyone but him, but you guess it just stopped being enough. Even you and Andy weren't exactly "public" with your opposing schedules. You'd only ever been seen together at parties.
You finally reach your room and Billy leans against your counter, silently smiling at you as if he expects you to say something.
"What?" You ask, already starting the clean-up process.
"Just thought a 'thank you' would be in order." He shrugs.
"Thank you, Billy. Please hand me the broom," you groan, pointing to the tiny closet in the kitchen area. He rolls his eyes and carries the broom over to you. You're picking up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placing them into a small trashcan, hoping to make sweeping easier.
"Careful," Billy says as he notices a crack in the shard you're holding. His warning didn't reach you in time though, and the piece snapped, catching the upper part of your palm, slicing it open. "Jesus fucking-" Billy drops the broom and you follow him to the counter where he tears a wad of paper towels off the roll and shoves them into your hand. He stares at you with a straight face, almost like a disappointed parent. You stare back, blinking.
"What?" You ask, daring him to give you a hard time or risk being kicked out of your domicile.
"Nothing. Just getting tired of having to play doctor for you all the time." You release a huff and he smiles, a little sweeter than before.
(Do we want a part 2? Do we still read angst or are we all into smut rn? Maybe sex next chapter. idk.)
#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfiction#billy hargrove#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargove#billy hargrove angst#who did this to you#angst#stranger things#revenge#who did this to you trope#billy is mean#but also not#billy hargrove x reader#tw violence#tw domestic violence#tw dv#graphic violence#billy hargrove x y/n#stranger things angst
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THE START OF BILLY HARGROVE AND HIS METAL HEAD BF RELATIONSHIP
WARNINGS: Use of the word fag, nothing else
A/N: There will be a part 2 in the future eventually.
You and Billy officially met when you two were paired together for a History project. Both of you hated the idea of having to work with each other because why wouldn’t you.
You two were complete opposites. You were a 6’2 metal head that wore corpse paint, band tees, and arguably way to many rings. While Billy was a 5’10 blonde hair blue eyed fuck boy that drove a loud ass car.
So it was no surprise that you both asked the teacher if there was anyway to get a different partner.
Unfortunately or rather fortunately the two of you couldn’t get out of doing the project together. While neither of you really cared all that much for your grades you both needed to pass the class and the project would count as 50% of your grade. So you both had to do it whether you liked it or not.
Anyway you begrudgingly both shared your information with one another and planned to meet up at your place that Friday to work on the project together.
Eventually Friday rolled around and Billy showed up late as always in his blue 1979 Chevrolet Camaro.
To say Billy didn’t want to be there was an understatement. Fortunately for him you had all the information the two of you would need to put together the project.
So things went smoothly and you two talked back and forth as you worked getting to know each other.
Which was when you both found out that you shared a genuine love of cars. This definitely helped your guys acquaintanceship and made the project go by quicker.
Anyway in the end the project only took you guys 3 hours which was less than what you both expected it to take. After you guys finished Billy left your place and that Monday you guys presented to the class before you both went back to strangers.
You two stayed strangers again for 2 months until Billy had a problem with his Camaro and didn’t want someone he didn’t know touching his baby so instead of taking it to a mechanic and knowing you worked on cars, he showed up at your house asking for you to look at.
You were of course surprised by this visit and even more surprised when he asked you to take a look at his Camaro. You of course agreed and took a look. It ended up being something real easy to fix so you.
So you took off your rings and handed them to Billy for safe keeping. As you bent over the Camaro fixing the problem.
Billy quietly watched you from the side as you worked on the Camaro. He took note of everything about you from your height and build to your clothes and corpse paint.
As he watched you he felt something grow in his chest. Something all too familiar. Something that he frankly hated. Something he wished to ignore specifically being in this shit hole of a town.
This town wasn’t all to found of people like him. People that liked same gender. But Billy would never call himself a fag sure he liked men but he also liked women. He had no clue what he was but he knew he liked you.
Maybe it was the fact you were so openly yourself and didn’t care what others thought of you or maybe was it the way you held yourself and talked. Who knows because Billy certainly didn’t.
As you were finish up Billy realized he needed to pay you for your work somehow. He wondered if you were gay and would go out on a date with him as payment.
“You’re all set. Your baby should be working at 100% again.”
“Thanks……Um would you maybe want to go out on a date with me. It’s all on me, I just want to um pay you back for your work.”
“Sure that’s fine with me. I’m free this Saturday if that good with you.”
“Yeah that works for me.”
“Well it’s a date then.”
#billy hargove#stranger things#billy hargrove x male reader#stranger things x male reader#billy hargrove x reader#stranger things x reader
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they were in a photobooth having a silly goofy time then billy said something gross probably
#The fruity four#steve harrington#billy hargove#heather holloway#robin buckley#harringrove#bucklway#stranger things#Two arts in one night!? Its unheard of! Simply diabolical#My art
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content: somno, cnc, fingering
Billy Hargrove was a smoking, drinking, tough boy who’d kick the shit out of you for looking at him wrong. The type to get laid and smoke while flipping off the cops. The kind to take punches and dole them out even harder, all while crushing everyone he doesn’t like under his boot.
But when he was asleep?
When he was asleep, Billy Hargrove was completely different. He was soft, face serene and peaceful. He wasn’t nervous, checking over his shoulder for his dad or whatever other annoying bastard was coming his way. He looked calm, his eyes lightly closed and breathing steady.
And it was so much fun to ruin it.
His face was scrunched now, his lips occasionally twitching. His breathing was more ragged, chest rising and falling in an irregular pattern. Blush coated his cheeks as he shifted slightly.
Two of your fingers pumped in and out of him, each time curly to brush across his prostate. You went slow, scissoring him apart as best you could.
Soft groans were his only response, along with the occasional puff of air out of his nose. Still, he didn’t wake up.
He was so sensitive, even asleep.
Your other hand reached his cock, stroking in time with your fingers. His breathing got heavier, cock twitching as precum dripped onto his stomach.
You sped up as he clenched around your fingers, a sure sign he was about to cum.
You saw his eyes flutter open just in time for white ropes of cum to splatter on his chest. In his half awake state all he could manage was whimpers, weakly grabbing at your still moving hand.
You chuckled at him grinding down against your hand. “Don’t worry baby, we aren’t done.”
#letters to stranger things#billy hargove smut#billy hargrove#billy hargove#billy hargrove x male reader#top male reader#male reader#x reader#dom male reader#stranger things#stranger things smut#billy hargrove x reader#kinktober 2022#stranger things x male reader
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Been having fun making these so be prepared
@80svhstapes i added heather just for you
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#edit#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#barb holland#argyle#vickie stranger things#eden bingham#billy hargove#jonathan byers#chrissy cunningham#heather#henry/vecna/one
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What Is And What Should Never Be
Chapter 5: June, 1985
Excerpt:
A crack of lightning lit up the sky. The accompanying thunder rumbled immediately after.
"Billy. Can you just get in the car, please?"
Billy pressed his lips together, like he was about to keep arguing. But then, thank God, he opened the passenger door and got in.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Billy shivered in his seat; he was completely soaked, from his head to his shoes. Jim wished he had a towel or a blanket or something to give him, but he didn't. Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled and flat pack of cigarettes. It was, predictably, also wet. Billy opened it anyway. When he saw that the cigarettes inside were ruined, he sighed and let his head fall back on the headrest.
Jim pulled out his own pack of smokes from the center console and held it out to Billy. He mumbled a thanks and accepted one. Jim handed him a matchbook and took a cigarette for himself.
In the grand scheme of things, was giving a teenager a cig really that bad?
"You know how stupid it is to be out here like this, right?" Jim asked.
Billy kept his eyes on the windshield, watching the rain hit the glass.
"Coulda gotten hit by a car," Jim continued. "Coulda slipped and broken your ankle or something."
Billy still gave no response. He kept puffing away at his smoke.
"What if something from the Upside Down came through and attacked you? Did you even think about that? What was the plan if that happened?"
"Run fast," Billy finally said with a shrug.
Jim sighed and started the car.
"So," he said. "Just decided to take a walk, huh?"
"Mmhm."
Jim knew in his gut that that was a load of horseshit. He wanted to ask Billy directly if something had happened at home. Something that made him run out, even in the middle of a storm. He didn't have any bruises, at least. Not visible ones anyway. But that didn't mean anything.
"Haven't seen you in a while," Jim said casually. "Been keeping busy?"
"Yeah. I've been taking a lot of shifts at the pool," Billy said. "Need to save up for college and stuff."
"That's great! How are things at the pool? You like it?"
"It's alright. I mean, it's a job, you know?"
"Sure, I get that," Jim nodded.
"My coworkers are total dicks. Except for this one girl. She's pretty cool."
"Oh yeah?" Jim asked. He decided to tease him a little. "You gonna ask her out?"
Billy snorted.
"Aren't you not supposed to shit where you eat?" he said.
Jim laughed.
"Smart," he said. "That little life lesson usually takes a few years to learn."
Billy didn't respond. He took a final drag of his cig, stubbed it on the inside of the top flap of his ruined pack, and slipped the butt inside. Jim remembered that he didn't just toss the butt like most people did.
"How's everything otherwise?" Jim said, desperate to keep a conversation going.
"It's fine."
"You get to hang out with your friends more now that school's out?"
"Not really," Billy said. "I'm scheduled during the day and weekends a lot. And Nancy and Jonathan are at the Post every day. And Steve's been scheduled for a bunch of evening shifts. So. We've only been able to hang out a couple times, like, as a group. Sometimes Steve and I have the same day off though. But, like, sometimes there's family shit we have to do."
Jim nodded. He didn't want to tell Billy that finding the time to see your friends only got harder as an adult. The kid seemed glum enough already.
"How is your family?" Jim asked.
"Fine."
"Max?"
"Annoying. But fine. Isn't she, like, always at your house?"
"Yeah, but I'm usually at the station when she's over," Jim said. "Your stepmom? She's doing okay?"
"Mmhm."
"And your dad?"
"He's fine."
"I think I overheard Max mention to El that his hours were cut?" Jim asked with a carefully casual tone.
"Oh...yeah," Billy said. "It was a union thing. It's done now, though, so he's working regular hours again."
Security guards had unions. Labor unions had disputes all the time. It was certainly plausible that Neil Hargrove's hours had been cut because of a union thing. Logically, Jim had no reason to not believe Billy.
"Gotta stick with the union, right?"
"My dad isn't a scab," Billy said.
Billy was defending his father's honor. It was entirely possible that Neil Hargrove was the type of parent who taught his son about labor unions and fair wages, and who imparted values like 'don't be a dirty scab'. It was possible that Neil Hargrove wasn't the type of parent who beat his son—or if he was, it was possible that he didn't cross the line between legal corporal punishment and abuse.
But it was also possible that Neil Hargrove was abusive. It was possible that Jim's gut feeling about him was spot-on.
#billy hargove#jim hopper#billy hargrove and jim hopper#harringrove#harringrove fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction
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I'M SO SORRY BUT I HAVE ONE MORE
billy hargrove x FEM!reader (Neil is rotting in prison btw, I can't stand him and hope he has fun in hell)
Billy drives Max to the skatepark every Wednesday afternoon
He waits in the parking lot watching her skate, he notices a girl that max sometimes talks to
He noticed max likes the girl and she is his age..
Billy starts taking max to the skatepark more and more, and letting her stay until the girl leaves
Billy falls for the girl and eventually gets the courage to ask her out
They fall in love and max and billy fight over her
"She was mine first,"
"Back off shitbird, she like me more,"
This idea wouldn't leave my brain, sorry
ME FIRST!
Billy hargrove x Fem!reader
Desc: billy and max fight over YN. That's about it.
Warning: fighting
Notes: it's a little short. Sorry-
The music in the car was blaring. When the Hargrove siblings pulled in to the park, the current song was Queen but it was shut down rather quickly.
"Alright, max." Billy said, sitting back in his seat. "Two hours tops. Go."
Max rolled her eyes and got out of the car, dropping her skate board to the ground and rolling off.
Billy turned the other way, watching as Max rode down the bowl. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, taking a few quick drags.
He could drive off and go flirt with girls at the mall, not like Neil was around to stop him, but it was starting to get redundant. He almost justified flirting with Steve in his little ice cream shop just to get some kind of new reaction. But, he had a reputation.
So he just sat there, listing to his music and humming along to whatever Freddie Mercury was singing about.
Time past. Billy as dozed off once or twice. He mess around with some of the cute girls (and boys) that walked by. He would check to male sure Max wasnt dead but honestly, it wasnt the most important thing.
Once when Billy looked up, he saw Max with this... absolutely stunning lady.
She had to be younger then Billy but older then Max.
Her (h/l) hair perfectly framed her face. Her clothes fit her in all the right was. If this was some kind of cartoon, Billy's eyes might be poking out of his head.
Max must have noticed Billy's staring because she was already in the car, sitting next to him.
"Are you ok? Its rude to stare."
Billy quickly looked over, semi shocked that he didnt see Max get in.
"What? Mind your business." Billy said, running back to look out the window. To his disappointment, she was gone.
"How old is your friend?" Billy fully turned on the car and shut off the music.
"16, two years older then me. Why?"
"Mind your business, Max." Billy repeated himself, pulling out of the parking lot while trying not to hit the dumb kids that thought it was ok to cross the road without looking.
"Oh, you like her?" Max nearly yelled.
"What dose it matter to you?"
"You arnt her type."
"Oh really? What's her type, then?"
"Me"
"Spoiled brats? You dont have a chance in hell with her."
The whole ride home continued on like that. The two siblings firing insults back and forth.
Week after week that same thing would happen. If Billy was lucky, Y/N would walk with Max to the car. On those days, Y/N and Billy would playfully flirt back and forth while Max stared daggers in to the back of Billy's head.
But today was the day. Billy had gained enough confidence to ask out the girl he had been pining for over the past weeks.
Max knew something was up when Billy didnt give her the normal 'only two hours' speech and instead got out of the car with Max.
"What are you doing?" Max asked, holding her board under her arm.
"None of your business." Billy huffed, looking over Max for a particularly girl.
"Max-ie." Yn turned the corner around the car. "Oh, Billy. Hi. I've never seen you put of your car."
"Oh, well today is a very special day." Billy smiled, leaning against his car.
"Oh, really? Whys that?" Max asked, voice laced with venom. Almost like a warning, but what was she going to do?
"Today is that day I'm going to ask YN out."
Billy glanced away from Max over to YN, who was giggling and covering her face.
"Oh really?" Yn asked. "Where were you planning on taking her?"
"A nice dinner somewhere? Maybe bring to to the pool after closing. Whatever she wants."
"I think she would enjoy a movie or dinner at enzos." Yn hummed, tapping her chin.
"I'll call her later tonight to ask about it."
"Sounds like a plan."
Billy looked back over to where Max once was but she had ran off, probably to pitty herself for having no rizz.
"Well, I wont hold you." Billy smiled back at YN and slipped in to his car.
-----------------------------------------------
After about a two and a half hours, max slid in to the seat next to Billy. She slammed the door with a loud thud.
"Hey, watch it! Dont hurt her." Billy hissed, staring up the car.
"Dont get any bight ideas with YN, Billy! I liked her first."
"Oh come on, she likes me better, shitbird."
"She dose not! She Pittys you!"
And they fought, all the way back home.
#stranger things s3#billy hargrove#billy stranger things#stranger things billy#billy x reader#billy hargove imagine#billy hargove x reader#billy harringrove#billy hargove#billy hargove x fem!reader#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x female reader
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billy returning from the upside, ink sketch i did for the wonderful @ihni 💖
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kinktober day six - dacryphilia w/ billy hargrove
"billy please..."
he gripped your hair harder. "please what bitch?"
"billy it hurts." you had already come twice on his fingers and three times on his cock. "no more please"
"oh come on i know you can come again. come on you can be good for me."
he flipped you onto your back and gripped your face as he pounded into you. you felt your stomach knot start to release as he began to grip your throat.
your orgasm washed over you like a heatwave. billy released your throat and wiped the tears you didn't even know you spilt.
"such a pretty crier." he said leaning down to kiss your face.
#kinktober#kinktober 2022#billy hargove#billy hargrove smut#billy hargrove x reader#stranger things#stranger things one shot
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Also a tiktok about peeling those sneaky protective stickers off.
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Like a real good homie 🥰🥰
#stranger things#stranger things fanart#billy stranger things#stranger things billy#billy hargove#billy hargove fanart#stranger things steve#steve stranger things#steve harrington#harringrove#harringrove fanart#billy hargrove x steve harrington#steve harrington x billy hargrove#procreate#fanart
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This whole situation, Harrington, it's giving me the heebie jeebies
#Hewwo i Drew this in a panel at otakon 👀#Pour one out for the artist who had a whole ass conversation with me about how cool bucky barnes is#And also how billy is the most interesting yet underused character in stranger things lol#St4 sucked were haters#Stanger things#billy hargove#my art#Harringrove
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Well ask and you shall receive, can I request a fluff fic with a flayed Billy, I'd just imagine him walking about your house accidentally spooking the reader cause he's supringingly quiet, and doing act of kindness such as bringing in wild animals since he sees the reader like them (specifically rodents please), and when the reader sleeps he just lays on top of them and sees that as cuddling, basically like a human sized cat trying his best to show love in his own ways. thank you
im slowly filling all your 6 month old requests... sorry... ill get there, i promise.
The sudden thud of your window opening forced your eyes open.
It was the middle of the night, your room was completely dark and the only sound was that of distant crickets.
You were barely awake, your brain still shaking itself out of your dream. Just when you managed to clear the sleep from your eyes, something heavy fell on top of you, scaring the absolute shit out of your sleep riddled brain.
“Jesus Billy,” You mumbled, your hand flying to the back of Billy’s head. He had practically buried himself in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your cool skin.
You dragged your hands through his hair, gently separating the knots. Billy whined at that, sighing deeply at the comforting motion.
“Hey, love,” You said, now fully awake.
You and Billy had become friends not long after he moved to Hawkins. Originally you’d talked to him because Steve Harrington, resident douchebag and your ex-bully hated him, but you slowly became actual friends. He was a little intense, and you had to make him lay off his step-sister a few times, but he ended up being different than you thought he’d be. You started dating a while after figuring out you were both gay (a reveal that brought unknown amounts of relief to both of you).
You found out about the Upside Down soon after you’d been dragged there yourself. You managed to get out with your life and a small buzzing voice in the back of your head that wanted you to come back.
Maybe that’s how Billy found you again.
You carted your hands through his messy hair, gently untangling the damp curls.
You looked over to the small cage on your table. It’d been empty when the night began, but now a small mouse sat in it, hiding behind the small container for food. It seemed shaken up, though it may have been hurt. Most of the animals Billy brought you were. You weren’t sure whether it was because they were easier to catch or because he knew you liked to take care of them. Still, you smiled at the gesture, making a note to check on it tomorrow.
“You didn’t show up yesterday, I got worried.” You didn’t expect a response, and you didn’t receive one. Instead, he shoved himself into the crook of your neck, pressing himself to your skin as if he could somehow get closer than he already was.
“I miss you,” you said sadly, your voice quiet. “Miss being able to see you normally. Talk like we used to.”
He huffed, his warm breath tickling the skin on your neck. The small buzzing feeling came back, offering only a flood of emotions. You’d discovered it accidentally the first time Billy came back, but now you were thankful for the little knowledge you got about how he felt.
It was a wave of sadness and longing, a silent I miss you too.
“It’s alright,” You reassured. “You can stay right here until we get to be ‘normal’ again.” You chuckled slightly, smiling at the way his arms tightened around you. “Just don’t go missing on me, okay?”
You felt him softly nod before going completely still in your arms. A small moment of calm in the chaotic whirlwind that was his mind, but you’d take any moment you could get.
#letters from roman#letters to stranger things#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove x male reader smut#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargove#stranger things#billy hargrove x male reader#billy hargrove x dom male reader#billy hargrove x top male reader#top male reader#male reader#dom male reader
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I'm gonna be so real, it's super hard to write for Stranger Things characters with all the zionism the creators have made space for in their cast and crew. 💔 Noah, Brett, the directors themselves... I can't support it. My heart is broken, but not nearly as much as the people losing their families, homes, and lives in a literal genocide.
I will be (eventually) finishing any drafts and any requests that were put in before posting this (5/12/24) and that does include a part two to It's Personal, but after that, I might focus on my other comfort characters.
Free Palestine. I refuse to be a free method of advertisement for people who believe in genocide.🇵🇸
If you follow me for Stranger Things fics, feel free to unfollow. Even if we're mutuals. It's no hard feelings! And if you still write for ST, you aren't a bad person! This is all personal opinions for myself!
From the river to the sea 🇵🇸
(I'll keep my user name. They didn't invent Hellfire or even The Hellfire Club.)
#free palestine#free gaza#all eyes on rafah#all eyes on palestine#stranger things#stranger things 3#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things 4 fanfiction#eddie munson#billy hargove#eddie munson imagine#billy hargrove imagine
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Steve: You FUCKED a MURDERER!?
Eddie: What's the big deal!? I used a condom!
Billy to Steve: Well your safe sex lecture paid off
Steve to Billy: Shut the FUCK UP!
Robin: Okay can we try to just stay calm? Everyone? please?
Billy: The dykes right.
Steve: What do you know?! You're the one who put him up to this!
Eddie: He didn't put me up to shit, I was trying to help!
Steve: Oh bullshit you were trying to impress Billy!
Billy to Steve: Well he wouldn't be the first...
Steve: Well! He's already got a boyfriend!
Eddie: ...You do?
Billy: In a non-defined nonconventional way, yeah.
#incorrect harringrove quotes#incorrect mungrove quotes#incorrect steddiegrove quotes#queer as folk#stranger things#brian kinney#billy hargove#eddie munson#steve harrington#billy hargrove#hunter novotny-bruckner#scenes been in my head for years#harringrove#mungrove#britin#justin taylor#qaf#michael novotny
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