#billy hargrove comfort
Text
healing
billy hargrove x gn!reader
word count: 5,445
warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??
a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333
————
November 1985
“No.”
“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?”
Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make.
“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes.
She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”
The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”
Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table.
“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”
Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around.
“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.”
Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment.
It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down.
You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro.
Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money.
But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.
There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way.
Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are.
You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?”
He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy.
When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”
He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up.
“Hey. Glad your test is over?”
That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”
You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch.
“You have work today?”
Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment.
Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge.
“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.”
You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”
The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her.
“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say.
The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is.
“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice.
“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.
“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation.
Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek.
Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it.
“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”
“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”
Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together.
Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale.
He smiles at her, and El considers that a win.
You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door.
He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do.
When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do.
Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger.
He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side.
“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him.
He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?”
“Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him.
“Besides what?”
You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself.
Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless.
“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again.
“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it.
“You know what.”
“I want you to go.”
“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”
————
The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there.
Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims.
She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom.
Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…”
You and Billy.
You and Billy Hargrove.
Sharing a room.
Sharing a bed.
Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall.
“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything.
“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”
That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”
You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?
Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?
“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”
He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”
He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them.
“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”
You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh.
“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”
You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that.
“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you.
You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”
Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether.
“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”
You nod your head, and try to move back from him.
Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”
You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”
Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win.
“Really?”
He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back.
“Yeah, baby.”
Baby.
It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”.
And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.
“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”
“Mhm. Thought so.”
This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.
“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.
When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips.
You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind.
You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them.
Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one.
“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.
————
Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out.
“Right hand blue.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”
Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card.
“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”
“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger.
He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can.
Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask.
He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.”
“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”
“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass.
“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”
You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder.
“Something funny over there?” Steve questions.
You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”
His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”
Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either.
The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing.
It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way.
————
You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you.
You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in.
He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you.
When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own.
You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this.
He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.
“C’mere then.”
You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”
“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”
“Billy.”
“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side.
Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined.
He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?”
“Yeah.”
Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. ���This okay?”
“Yes.”
He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.
Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before.
He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him.
“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.”
You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck.
“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break.
“You’re sure?”
“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”
He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous.
It’s just me.
“Do they hurt at all?”
Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean.
“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”
You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed.
He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them.
“Goodnight, Billy.”
He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop.
“Goodnight, baby.”
————
When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.
Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look.
You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in.
Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on.
Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction.
You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble.
“Sleep okay?” she asks.
“Mhm. You?”
“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.”
You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up.
“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”
You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”
“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”
You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”
“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet.
“Oh my god.”
“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”
“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”
“Or lack thereof,” Robin says.
“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.”
Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.”
He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being.
“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”
————
Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water.
It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down.
It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool.
You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you.
“That sounds nice.”
“Mhm.”
“I can go back inside, if you want.”
Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does.
“Okay.”
He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do.
“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”
“I understand, Billy.”
You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see.
“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say.
“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”
He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water.
Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with.
When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest.
He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child.
“You motherfucker!”
You get him back, and he’s laughing.
Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.
You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder.
“Billy!”
“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water.
You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating.
When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so.
“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”
You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it.
He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them.
He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.
Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.
It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks.
When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.
Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.
“I’m in love with you, you know.”
“I know,” you respond.
He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat.
“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”
“Damn right you are.”
You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you.
“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy.
“So much for that,” Billy says.
But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
————
“I’m regretting this, Billy.”
“Stop whining.”
Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this.
“Get off.”
“No.”
“Get off, please.”
“Make me.”
There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.
He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”
And you’d do it again.
“Didn’t work, did it?”
“No. Shut up and take it.”
By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.
You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content.
He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up.
He’s never had this before.
Hell, you’ve never had this before.
And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro.
You’re healing him. You.
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please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
#savannah’s fics#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x gn!reader#billy hargrove x gender neutral reader#billy hargrove fic#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove fluff#billy hargrove fanfic#billy hargrove fanfiction#max mayfield#steve harrington#robin buckley#lucas sinclair#dustin henderson#will byers#billy stranger things fic#billy stranger things#bookshelf-dust’s 1k celebration
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Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove X Reader Series
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
Comment below to be added to the taglist! <3
#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove angst#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove smut#billy hargrove#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x fem!reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x reader#stranger things imagine#billy hargrove stranger things#stranger things x y/n#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove fanfic#billy hargrove imagines
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All The Fake and Made-up Stuff, Babe! | Letters From Billy Hargrove/Reader
Synopsis: It is your first Christmas with Billy, but you haven't shown up just yet. He tries to convince you to come, telling all of his plans for the evening. You have been gone for so long that he has begun to think you aren't real, and the dream of being with you might be nothing more than a fantasy.
Pairing: Billy Hargrove/Reader
Tags: Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Love Letters, Epistolary, Long-Distance Relationship, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Eve, Romantic!Billy, Fluff and Humor
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53457961
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#stranger things#outworld letters#billy hargrove#harrington!reader#steve harrington#stranger things fanfiction#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargove x reader#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove fluff#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x gn!reader#billy hargrove x gender neutral reader#billy hargrove fic#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove fanfic
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SCREAMING!! That Billy fic was so freaking good, I have to agree with the last person the subtle reassurance he was giving was soooo mf nice.
The “I’ve got you angel.” And “I know I know.”😩
If you’re actually taking requests I would love to see some hurt/comfort where Billy is actually the one comforting reader. An argument gone too far when billy makes a comment he definitely shouldn’t have, causing his girlfriend to start crying. Immediate guilt. I don’t want reader to give into his consoling immediately but…eventually they just cling to him and tell him not to say that ever again. 🫠
Holy crap my first ever request. Thank you so much Anon for not only the prompt but your lovely feedback. I started working on this at 5am this morning and looking over the first draft I went way too hard with Mean!Billy and had to significantly pull it back, because I sure as hell wouldn't have forgiven him. Maybe that's another fic for another time. I hope I did your prompt justice.
Warnings: Explicit language, underage drinking, mean girls.
When The Party's Over.
Billy is in a shitty mood and has been all week, you've tried to get him to talk about what's wrong only to be shot down each time, you even go so far as to ask Max.
"He's the same douchebag he's always been, maybe you're just noticing it for the first time." She had deadpanned.
You had hoped things would get better at the weekend, neither of you had school or work, his dad and Susan were away, Max was staying with Jane, you could finally spend some time together.
Billy, it seems, has other ideas.
"Tommy Hagan has a free house tonight." He told you when you turned up at his place early evening on Saturday to find him knee deep in Aramis and Aqua Net.
"Meaning?" You ask perching on the edge of the bed, flipping through one of his many nudie mags, just for something to do.
"A party." He says obviously, twisting his front curls into definition, eyeing you from the mirror.
"I thought we could maybe spend some time together tonight?" You hated how unsure you sounded, but Billy's attitude the past few days had thrown you for a loop.
"Yeah we can, at the party." He answered absentmindedly, whilst blasting another hairspray related hole in the Ozone layer.
You had hoped things were looking up on route to Tommy's place, Billy had held your hand the entire drive, and reassured you that you'd do something together tomorrow.
The minute you both stepped foot inside the bustling house however, he dropped your hand instantly, hailing Tommy who was busy setting up multiple kegs.
You followed Billy through the crowd like a lost sheep, being jostled in his wake.
"Hargrove you fucking made it man!" Tommy calls out loutishly, chucking a can of beer at Billy which he catches adeptly, breaking it open and chugging down at an alarming rate.
Billy must have sensed you watching him.
"You want one?" He asks you loudly over the music, taking another two cans.
"No I'm good, I'll get a glass of punch or something." You say, pointing back towards the kitchen, expecting him to follow you but all he does is nod, turning back to continue talking to Tommy.
Ordinarily Billy wouldn't leave you alone at a party for a single second, he would always be touching you in some way; an arm around your shoulders or waist, hand on the small of your back, pulling you down to sit on his lap, pressing heated kisses to your neck.
You try to ignore your building feelings of hurt, reassuring yourself that he just needed to let off steam for a minute.
Carol Perkins and Nicole Smith were by the punch bowl when you got there, you hated them, a walking, talking pair of John Hughes clichés, spoilt and mean.
"Y/n! Oh my god, hi, we were just talking about you!" Carol says in a tone of fake delight as she spots you.
"You were?" You ask in confusion, sipping at your drink.
"Mhm, we think it's so cute how you trail around after Billy, like a little puppy." She simpers, with a malicious little grin. "Especially when everyone else can see that he doesn't want you around." She pulls a mock sad face, Nicola snorts, and you resist the urge to throw the punch in her piggish face.
"Well as ever it's been great talking to you Carol." You say with a sarcastic smile, but her words stung you as turned heel heading back towards Billy, who was doing a keg stand.
He straightened up howling like a wolf to the cheers of everyone around him, you push through the crowd gathered, trying to force a smile as he turns to you.
“You see that shit? New record!” He shouts into your ear.
It’s an hour later and Billy is getting more and more wasted, the look of self-destruction bright in his eyes. You're sat miserably on a sofa watching helplessly but after another catty comment sent your way by Carol you decide you’ve had enough, you approach him gingerly as he chugs two beers at once.
“Billy?” You say, tapping him on the shoulder.
“Yeah?” He asks absentmindedly, barely acknowledging you, laughing raucously at something Tommy has just said.
“Can we go?” You ask quietly, it gets his attention, he rounds on you looking confused, face flushed with alcohol.
“We just got here.”
You bite your lip, feeling severely uncomfortable, Carol giving you the stink eye from over his shoulder.
“I know, I just - I’m not feeling well.” You stammer, fingernails digging into your clammy palms.
“Ok so go home, I’ll see you later.” He responds flatly, your mouth is oddly dry as he turns away once more.
“Without you?” You say in a small voice, tugging slightly on his shirt like a child.
He huffs loudly.
“Jesus, Y/n, you’re killing my buzz here, would you just go.” He says harshly.
You take a step back, feeling your bottom lip tremble, having never been on the receiving end of Billy’s temper before. Carol and Nicola snigger nastily behind their hands, tears blind you and you bolt, legs carrying you quickly out onto the cold street.
You hear rapid footfalls immediately chasing after you.
“Sunshine!” Billy calls, you flinch at the nickname. "Sunshine would you just stop for a second?!"
“Don’t call me that!” You shout, rounding on him. “I was wrong about you Billy, everyone is right you are an asshole.” Glaring at him, eyes stinging, hands shaking.
“I'm sorry.” He says weakly, you’ve hit him where it hurts in retaliation but can’t bring yourself to feel sorry. “I don’t know why I told you to go, that’s the last thing I want.”
“I do. It’s just like Carol and Nicola said, you don’t want me.” You say, desperately trying to keep your voice level but failing miserably.
“What? No that’s not true, it’s the exact opposite baby.” He reaches out with placating hands and pleading eyes.
“So why do you keep pushing me away?” You sob, hugging yourself around the middle.
“Because I'm a fuck up, and a jerk, and you’re right an asshole. I don’t deserve you.” He says heavily.
“You’ve been distant with me all week, if you want to break up with me Billy just save us both some trouble and do it now.” You mumble, staring resolutely at the ground, mostly hoping it would open up and swallow you whole.
“Break up with you? Angel, I - I fucking love you.” That gets your attention, eyes snapping to his, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I know I don’t say it enough but you mean everything to me.” He says softly.
You desperately want to burrow into his arms, but his dismissal of you still stings, honing in on your biggest insecurities. You weren’t anything special, you knew that, not compared to the Heather Holloway’s of the world; and fucking Carol always getting under your skin stoking the idea that one day Billy would just up and leave.
“You really hurt me.” You say shakily, “Please don’t ever say something like that again unless you really want me to go, because I can’t do this a second time.” You plead.
“Never, ever.” He promises, caressing your face, gazing intently into your eyes.
You sniffle loudly, finally allowing him to fold you into his arms. “I’m so sorry I made you cry baby.” He apologizes, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head.
“You scared me.” You whimper, wrapping your arms around him, clinging hard to his back.
“I know, I know.” He rocks you gently, before tilting your face up to kiss you softly. “But I'm not letting you go angel, ever.”
#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x AFAB Reader#billy hargrove drabble#stranger things#billy stranger things#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove hurt
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hi hi! i thought your eddie headcanons were super cute, and i really love your writing so i had to request: would you be open to doing headcanons for billy x fem!reader who struggles with anxiety, depression, etc? how would he (or try) to help out? thank you love <3
you got it, love writing billy. also thank you for the compliment :)
tw: depression, anxiety, self harm, panic attacks, mentions of abuse.
family.
oh billy. so complex.
billy himself is perceived as an asshole, because that's what he wants people to see. he does it on purpose; it makes him untouchable.
y'know, if he's mean to everyone, on constant defense, people won't get close. he won't get hurt. so voicing feelings, putting them out there for someone (you) to hear, he isn't really good at it.
he's been on constant defense since he was a kid. i mean, having feelings besides angry ones wasn't really an option. he had to protect himself by being strong. had to stand up for himself because he didn't have anyone to help him.
and the cherry on top of the cake? the only figure to raise him was the one he's getting abused by. so. he's got a lot of issues.
this being said, i will say he understands what you're going through. maybe all too well.
but the way that he was raised has prevented him from identifying these feelings within himself as well. so for him to see them in you, it's a struggle to,,, learn to be nice about it? idk if that makes sense.
it isn't to say he doesn't try. because you being open with him about your struggles with anxiety and depression, opens the doors for those kinds of conversations and i think he would also eventually tell you his baggage. therefore creating a more communicative environment.
i think you'd be trepidatious to tell him. i mean he's hard to talk to in the beginning. things are just now opening up for you two to get serious.
so he wouldn't find out until you're already in the thick of it.
ignoring his calls, shutting yourself in the darkness of your bedroom, refraining from eating because it takes too much energy. he's worried; also pissed because he doesn't know what's going on and you're not talking to him.
he'd come over, the roar of his dumb engine spiking some anxiety in you, worse than it already was because you have a feeling he's gonna bust in like a bat out of hell.
he'd be kind of hostile at first - spurring you into a panic attack. and then he realizes he's pushed too far (he does this a lot)
i will say, the best goddamn thing about billy, is how bracing he is. his hands on your arms, they stabilize you in the blink of an eye. altogether his presence alone is just,, powerful. in that moment. he commands (very gently ofc) your attention. away from the panic, and onto him.
his eyes cut into yours, intense and there. and his voice is strong, you listen to it.
he doesn't want to overwhelm you, but it almost scares him to see you freak out like this so he'll bring you into a tight embrace mostly for his own comfort.
it is nice though. suffocating and soothes your senses.
"i don't care what the fuck i'm doing. you tell me when you feel like this and i'm there, okay?" says it while holding your face in his hands firmly.
the panic attack is a great doorway into conversation about your mental issues though.
you tell him about your depression and anxiety, he hums and listens. but won't tell you his own stuff quite yet.
the type to let you wallow a little bit. he'll lay in bed with you and nap for as long as you want. his only way of getting you out of your funk is to get you in his car to go on a drive or offer a date night to get you out of the house.
lets you play your mixtapes, holds your hand while he drives. buys dinner of course, whatever you want.
"you uh, you like candles right? what about we go get some."
"i don't know how to make chocolate covered strawberries but i know you like them. is this the right chocolate?"
he tries! it's really cute.
pays attention to the things that make you happy.
billy takes up braiding. learning to braid your hair when you're in deep in the depressive cycle to get your hair out of your face and get you feeling fresh.
surprisingly gentle with braiding too.
he has nice hands, knows you like the feeling of them on you. so he'll always be touching you, holding you - whatever you want.
billy is so the boyfriend to get you up on your bathroom counter to take your makeup off.
helps you get up there and puts your makeup remover on a pad and rubs it off - he's good at that too. he focuses really hard when he does it too, takes this job very seriously.
"what moisturizer do you want tonight."
helps you get undressed and dressed.
a shoulder to lean on in those trying times. he takes his role pretty seriously.
"you smell nice." you inhale, holding him on your bed.
"i wore that cologne you like."
on the topic of self harm, if you do it, or tell him. he only talks about it when you bring it up first.
can tell it's sensitive for you.
that's kind of like everything with him though; he doesn't normally ask about things unless you bring it up first. then he'll ask more questions or ponder deeper.
when he tells you about his struggles, his childhood, his dad, all that. it only strengthens your relationship i think.
more trust, more communication, more help with his anger. just more tender moments, softness. vulnerability.
he really is a lot more excellent than you'd expect i think.
overall, with anxiety. he listens, reminds you of what is true and what isn't. not as tender with it as eddie or steve might be, but he tries.
with depression, he remains a faithful presence. slightly encouraging to get you up doing things. will lay around with you, reminds you he is there.
#billy hargrove#stranger things#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove angst#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove fluff#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#stranger things fluff#stranger things comfort#stranger things angst#stranger things billy
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Rp Partner Needed!
~Billy Hargrove x My Oc~
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Hey there ladies, gents, and all of you beautiful souls 🖤 I’m hoping to find a new RolePlay partner for a stranger things Rp. It would be a 1x1 roleplay and I’m looking for someone to Rp as Billy Hargrove, I would be my female Oc I’ve made specifically for the Stranger things universe and it would be a romance Rp. I have a few plots I’ll definitely share if interested or, we can build one together! I prefer to talk over Discord if that’s alright and I ask that if you’re a minor, that you kindly move along please and thank you.
My rules are pretty simple, nothing toooo complicated.
1. No minors, I’m not trying to catch an F bomb…Felony.
2. No action marks. For example:
-Billy walks into school- Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?
It’s boring.
3. No one liners! I can’t build a scene off of:
Billy got into his car and drove to school.
…simple right?
4. If you’re aren’t digging something happen in the Rp or the plot, tell me! I’ll be perfectly happy to change something so please don’t just stop messaging and leave me guessing.
And that’s it! Now, the things I’m okay with 😁
1. Smut. (The smuttier the better 🤣😉)
2. Graphic topics. (Like Mental health issues or what not)
3. Alcohol/Drug mentions (in the Rp of course lol)
4. Taking a break. Everyone has a life! I’m perfectly fine with taking some time from yourself, just communicate with me ☺️
Now. If I’ve missed something or if you have a question, feel free to ask! Message me if you’re interested in rping and I hope you all have a wonderful day ☺️💙🩵
#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove imagines#billy hargove smut#billy hargrove stranger things#billy hargrove comfort#rp partner wanted#discord rp#rp partner needed#stranger things#rp partner finder#rp partner search#rp partner ad
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Bunny
Short ficlet about Joyce comforting Billy(based on a dream I had)
Billy had a horrible day. He saw Neil at the grocery store, that was hard enough, the harder part was him staring at Billy the whole time. As soon as he finished shopping, he rushed home, threw the groceries at Hopper, and rushed into his room. He paced back & forth in his room in an attempt to calm himself.
After a few minutes and his breathing not evening out, there was a soft knock on his bedroom door. Joyce stepped in and sat on the bottom bunk of his bed. “Are you ok, sweetie?” The question broke him, he sobbed even harder as he began pacing again.
“Can you name some things you see?” She tried to ground him, to bring him down enough to at least breathe, but he couldn't speak. “Well you know what I see?” She asked, looking around the somewhat messy room. He looked up from his hands, showing his lovely blue eyes full of tears. “I see Bunny, I see your hair products, I see your makeup, I see your journal, and I see your snake.”
Bunny. That would help. Billy hugged the large stuffed bunny and cried into the soft fur, laying face-down on it. Joyce pet the soft blonde curls as he cried. “Mom…” he whimpered. She tries to hug him the best she could with the awkward angle, she didn’t care though, Billy needed her and she was gonna be there for him.
#billy hargrove#billy hargrove comfort#joyce byers#joyce byers comfort#stranger things comfort#stranger things fic#stranger things drabble#stranger things ficlet
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all of the moments that led me to you.
warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy
pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)
words: 4.5k+
summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington
an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)
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yr. 1984
i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson
the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass.
you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong.
if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.
but you are here. seated inside the henderson household.
“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading.
“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son.
“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request.
“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions.
“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to asking for permission.
“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.
“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.
dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.”
you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is.
“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed.
letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”
——
you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington.
pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle.
“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face.
“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you.
you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time.
“why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you.
“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”
“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin.
“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you, “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him.
from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.
subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly.
snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.
“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.
you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”
“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush.
“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”
at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have.
“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips.
“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to.
“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested.
he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter.
“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted.
“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable.
“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.
“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.
“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit.
“fuCK!, we don’t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper.
steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.
the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.
“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.
“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place.
steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas.
ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove
you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?
you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.
the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming.
everything was strange.
you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind.
in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.
“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice.
everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again.
the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed.
it’s amazing what shared trauma could do.
you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened.
he gives you a sheepish smile, almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this.
“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them.
“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation.
“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.
“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house.
you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted.
the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help.
“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole.
billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.
standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came.
“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible.
“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie.
“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.
“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice.
“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you.
“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair.
frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve.
“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening.
“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother.
steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy.
billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you.
“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body.
you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you.
“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat.
“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him.
“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace.
steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being.
“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall.
your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.
you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends.
the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy.
somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.
—
the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together.
a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle.
“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly.
“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children.
you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever.
“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear.
max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came.
you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions.
iii. the heart-to-heart
in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there.
you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school.
‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.
brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.
“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.
he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips.
“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes.
you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long.
“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.
gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face.
he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh.
“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions.
“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second.
“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you.
“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up.
you immediately shake your head, “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly.
“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.
“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink.
“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.
you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom.
instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?”
“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.
“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”
“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side.
“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.
“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.
you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince.
“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you.
“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh.
heart to heart talk it is.
“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.
“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing.
you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued.
“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze.
“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.
“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.
“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display.
“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed.
“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had.
he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses.
“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.
“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.
“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you.
but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors.
steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington.
just steve.
-
next: yr. 1985 (to be written)
an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)
feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3
#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington imagine#stranger things x reader#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x reader angst#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington hurt/comfort#dustin henderson#billy hargove imagine#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove x reader angst#stranger things#stranger things x y/n
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i was made to love you
billy hargrove x fem!reader
gif by @suledins
word count: 1,879
warnings: teeny bit of swearing (i think?), reader has some bad experience with romantic things/insecurities/trust issues, anxious habits (lip picking), anxiety/slight panicking, otherwise quite soft and comforting
a/n: well, hello! i haven’t written for billy since october (gasp), but i’m happy to say that i finally got some inspiration for him again and i am pretty pleased with how this turned out. that inspiration was courtesy of a few prompt lists i found! the first being from this list by @euthymiaaa and the second from this list by @creativepromptsforwriting !! both of those were extremely helpful in getting me back in the groove of things. please check those blogs out!! anyway, i hope you will find some comfort in this and that you’ll enjoy. happy reading!!! <333
————
“What’s the matter with you?”
Billy isn’t being mean when he asks you this. His tone isn’t cruel, but instead there’s a lilt to his voice, an almost desperate one.
He’s asking you to talk to him. The way you’ve been standoffish towards him all day is freaking him out. Your lip is raw from how aggressively you’ve chewed at it, since you’d rather do that than voice your feelings.
But he can’t take seeing you act this way.
“Come on. The windows are gonna start rattling with how you’re bouncin’ your leg, babe.”
You stop on instinct, red-stained fingernails moving back to your bottom lip.
“Nothing’s wrong, Billy. Just having a bad day.”
But that’s not totally true. Your day had been mundane at best. This feeling, your acting this way, had started when he’d shown up this morning, unannounced, with flowers in his hand. For you.
Something inside you broke upon seeing him there, knowing he’d spent money on you, knowing that for some reason he was thinking about you. You can’t understand it.
Billy gets up from his place on the couch. His socked feet move across the carpet until he’s sitting down on the coffee table in front of you. His hand grips your knee. You can’t avoid him this way, and it frustrates you even more, because why is it your attention that he wants?
“I know you better by now than to believe that,” he says firmly.
You can’t handle this. You sit up further on the couch and criss cross your legs so they’re out of his reach. You try not to notice the flash of pain across his face. You’re retreating from him and he doesn’t like it.
“Why are you doing this, Billy?”
He blinks. “Doing what?”
“Bringing me flowers. Thinking about me. Wanting to spend time with me. Touching me, calling me those names. Why do you do all of that to me?” Your voice breaks over that last word and you exhale, hard.
Billy’s eyebrows knit together. “Why wouldn’t I?”
You stare at him like he’s suddenly grown a third eye. Like it should be obvious to him why doing all of these things is wrong.
You lift your hand and rub at your chest. “Because I’m me.”
Billy lets out a huff of a laugh, looking over his shoulder like there must be some hidden camera in the room. “Yeah, and?”
Your eyes water. “Can’t you see all that’s wrong with me? There’s so many other girls you could be spending time with. So many you could love or pamper. We’re not even together and you-you’re treating me like I’m special.”
You stand up, now short of breath. Billy stands with you. You keep rubbing your chest. You slip a hand under your sweatshirt and squeeze the soft of your side, leaving fingernail imprints in your skin.
He moves quickly across the floor, recognizing that you’re starting to panic. He takes your hand in his, but keeps your clasped fingers pressed against your chest, just under your collarbones.
“You are special. To me, you’re the only girl in the world,” Billy says. But you’re not looking at him. Your eyes are glued to some spot behind his head. He presses his thumb to your jaw. “Hey. Look at me.” Your eyes find his and he follows a tear as it makes its way down your cheek. “You’re the only girl in the world.”
Your eyes flutter shut and you pull away from him.
“Th-this doesn’t make sense. I’m not the kind of girl that receives flowers or gets loved on or gets chosen. You’re my favorite person in the world, Billy, but I can’t possibly be what you want.”
He maintains eye contact with you, trying to understand why you’re behaving this way. Why you don’t believe his motives behind treating you the way he does. Like a princess.
You continue on, starting to pace. “My default is being a nervous wreck, Billy. I hate leaving the house, I don’t have any prospects, I’m not exciting…and I don’t have anything t-to offer you.”
And then it clicks.
Everything comes rushing into Billy’s mind, and he understands now, why you’re so confused, why you’re so afraid of the fact that he’s choosing you.
You’ve never had someone treat you this way. The last guy you talked to, the only guy you’ve talked to, wanted you first. But then you realized he wanted to talk when he needed something. You got attached and he took advantage of that. He dangled everything you’d ever wanted right in front of your face and then took it all away.
And now you’re trying to figure out why someone would want you.
The next words to leave your mouth snap Billy out of his stupor.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Billy swipes a hand down his face, fingers traveling to the back of his neck where he tugs at his hair to keep himself composed. Nothing is more frustrating than having the best girl he’s ever known in front of him and she can’t even see a shred of the value she has. How good she is.
He sighs. “If you think I am going to validate your pessimistic thoughts, then you’re wrong.”
You stop moving and slowly step back towards the couch. Your hands reach out for the cushions first, like you need to steady yourself or you won’t be able to sit properly.
This is the part where he’s supposed to leave. To lash out at you and say you’re too anxious, too worried. Thinking about the way those words have been said to you in the past makes you nauseous and your fingers rub at your stomach.
Billy tracks the motion and sits back down on the coffee table like he had been before. You’re trying to wrap your head around this.
You’d felt desired for a short time before Billy, and you’d felt special, having been treated like you were. But those features weren’t because of you and who you are, but because it guaranteed you’d be giving attention to someone else. Someone who fed off of that and needed it to feel satisfied. It was never because he really wanted you.
But now Billy does.
“I’m sorry, Billy. I want to be able to accept that you’re doing all of these things because your intentions are pure and because you actually like me, it’s just that my mind—it can’t comprehend that just yet.”
Billy takes your face in his hands. They’re warm and calloused and big, and your eyes fill just from the feeling.
“Don’t apologize to me. I understand where you’re comin’ from. But in all honestly, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I bring you flowers and ask to take you out and buy you books and stay the night because I want you. I’ve never wanted to do any of that with someone before. I’m not doing it for my gain. But because you…you are worth all of that. I want to make you happy. You understand me?”
You blink, and Billy’s thumb swipes the tear away before it travels down your face. You start to nod.
“I understand. Can you just…” You lock eyes with him. “Be patient with me? I’m gonna have to learn how not to be afraid o-of this and I know it’ll be hard.”
Billy knows your emphasis on “this” means a potential relationship with him. One beyond the slightly-more-than-friends thing you’ve got going on now. If he’s honest with himself, the prospect of that scares the shit out of him too, because he’s never really done this officially either. He’s always been a hookup kind of guy. The few girlfriends he had never lasted long or had some lasting emotional connection. But he knows your life hasn’t been that way. You’re afraid for different reasons. Because you think he’ll slip away and that you’ll really be the version of yourself that you see on a daily basis.
“Of course I can. I wouldn’t just give up on you because you’re kinda fucked up. That’d be pretty hypocritical, don’t you think?”
The corners of Billy’s mouth twitch. You blink at him, winded at his attempt to make you laugh.
He chuckles to himself, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The gesture steals the breath from your lungs but makes you warm all over. You grab hold of his wrist where it still lingers near your face. Billy is drawing shapes on your shoulder.
He relaxes his arm and lets you take his hand in your own. You drag your index finger along the lines crossing his palm in every direction.This is more entertaining than anything you’ve done in weeks. Your hand slides up against Billy’s until they’re lined up at the heels, and you push against him in an effort to convey that you want to raise them.
Billy catches on. You’re trying to compare his hand to your own. He thinks it’s a silent way for you to communicate with him. Like your way of saying: I want this too. I care about you. You matter to me.
His palm is so warm. Just like the rest of him. And his hand is much bigger than yours, enough so that you hold back a shiver. You want to be able to show Billy that you feel how he does. You want to be able to use those gestures as effortlessly as he does.
So you lower your fingers until they fall between each of his. And then you’re holding hands. You give Billy a little grin, and he swears he could fucking melt. Seriously, the way you make him feel ought to be studied.
To him, spending time with you, comforting you, talking to you about the hard things, learning who you are—it’s as easy as breathing.
It’s like he was made for this. Everything up to this point has prepared him for you. He thinks that somehow, someway, he would’ve found you no matter the situation. You have always been it for him, even when he didn’t know it yet.
You take a deep breath.
I deserve this, you think. I deserve to be cherished and to hold hands. I deserve to let go and see this through.
“Maybe…maybe together we can learn to be a little less fucked up,” you finally say. “I could be easier that way.”
Billy squeezes your hand. “And maybe we’ll get more fucked up in our own special ways.”
That gets a quiet giggle out of you. Shit, he’s won the lottery.
After a moment of peaceful silence, Billy leans forward, dipping his head down so he’s looking up into your eyes. His own are so very blue this close. With those little flecks of gold.
“You deserve the world. I need you to know that. I don’t want anyone else. I want to learn you, inside and out. I want you with me. Is that okay with you?”
You look at him, at the way his curls frizz out by his ears, the way his freckles have faded because of the cold, the way his hand shakes when it leaves yours.
“That’s okay. More than okay.”
————
please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!
#savannah’s fics#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x fem!reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove fic#billy hargrove fanfic#billy hargrove oneshot#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove fluff
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Currently planning a Billy x reader story and I'm so excited ☺️🥰
Feel free to leave requests <3
#billy hargrove#billy hargrove fanfic#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove imagines#billy hargrove angst#billy hargrove smut#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove x y/n
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Talk Shit, Get Hit
prompt: ( requested ) your high school bully picks the wrong day to taunt you and it's up to an equally hotheaded Billy to calm you down. call it irony.
pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader
characters are ALL aged 18 years old
fandom masterlist: Stranger Things
word count: 5.4k+
note: the reader is aggressive. the reader is violent. the reader’s hands are rated ‘E’ for Everyone.
warnings: you know the drill: author projects instead of going to therapy and uses personal experience as details. there's physical violence, aggressive reader, depiction of shitty home life / toxic family, (somewhat severe) abusive alcoholic parent, parental abandonment, cursing, bullying, Jason Carver's sister is the bully, injury and blood. cursing, threats, brief cigarette and illicit material use (marijuana / weed), i guess this is hurt and comfort, angst, we talk about Billy's abuse with Neil, too, and kinda abrupt ending.
PLEASE NOTE -
this fic will depict parental abuse, both emotional and physical.
this fic will discuss an alcoholic parent.
this fic will detail physical violence BY the reader.
DO NOT engage if any of these topics potentially trigger you. you will miss nothing if you decide to skip. author implores readers to value and prioritize their own comfort and mental health.
Of all the days Brittany Carver could've chosen, she picked the worst day imaginable to bully you - being akin to a ticking time bomb. To your immense surprise, she'd laid off that entire week, focused on the "big" cheerleading competition she was leading Hawkins High to victory in. It left her no energy to engage in her favorite past time of tormenting you; figuring that after 6 years of her brutal behavior, she had grown up and lost interest. You weren't someone who people bullied easily, but this thing with Brittany, it was some kind of twisted pissing contest; competition brewing in elementary school that boiled over during middle school and now lasted into high school.
However, God seemed to have a sick sense of humor because on the week your bully had temporarily forgotten your existence, things at home had escalated to a new height not previously known. It was true what they said: if it wasn't one thing, it was another.
The entire week, your mother had only been sober for - well - none of it. She was found morning, noon, and night slumped over in various locations around your home with different bottles of liquor in her grip. The house grew messier each day, a direct result of a checked-out parent refusing to do any chore and destructive little monsters that took form as your twin little brothers. You couldn't keep up, playing mother, sister, housewife, personal maid, and full-time student all at once; pushing your stress levels higher, making you bitter and short tempered. The times your mother was conscious, which was typically to find a new bottle of alcohol, she was a right nasty fuck.
Her bark matched her bite; not only yelling at you, belittling you, and gaslighting you - but also using physical aggression to "teach you a lesson" for being "disorderly" or "a waste of semen" - and yes, that is a direct quote. Her hands were dainty from malnourishment, bulging veins prominent, and despite your father abandoning the family ages go, she still wore her diamond wedding ring that left small cuts wherever she struck you. The times she wasn't sober enough to really "get" you, she put out cigarettes on your arms and thighs; leaving tiny, circular burn scars you coated in Neosporin. She’s been known to break a few wooden cooking spoons over your head, steal the money made from babysitting, even cashed-in your inheritance - pawning all of your dead grandmother’s jewelry. There were plenty of other examples, but dwelling on those instances wouldn't change the past or alter your future, so you stuffed them way deep down in your soul.
Naturally, you didn't say a Goddamn thing; under the impression that everyone had shitty family members they tolerated and that your home life was normal enough to not report to the police. You didn't know any better, you didn't know that your mother downing fifths of alcohol daily was cause for concern. You didn't know that abuse wasn't the standard - emotional or physical. It took years for you to learn that love wasn't supposed to hurt, that love wasn't supposed to scare you, that love wasn't selfish, that your mother didn't actually love you. It took years to convince yourself that you were worthy of love and acceptance, never receiving it from your mother - not knowing you could get it from anyone else.
And then, William fucking Hargrove - or Billy - breezed into your small hometown with a sweet denim-clad ass, golden, curly mullet, and a bad fucking attitude that rivaled your own.
It was a match made in heaven.
Or hell.
You both suffered at the hands of your parental figures, turning abrasive and foul-mouthed as defense mechanisms. You and Billy developed hardened exteriors in an effort to protect your soft insides, and when you met officially, it was as if you two could see past that hard shell - straight through the bullshit. You recognized much of the same in one another - like looking in a mirror - and grew impossibly close in an incredibly short amount of time; grateful to have a second half who understood without ever needing explanation.
He just got you. Able to identify common threads between you. Billy understood you, having more empathy than you thought he could muster. He protected you. He loved you. He took care of you - and you did the exact same, considering you two were cut from the same cloth; wanting to assure him he was just as worthy of love as you.
Billy was known around Hawkins for being a womanizing jock with anger issues, and yet, when you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he never even looked at another girl twice. He felt as if dating his best friend, understanding that nobody else would truly understand him the way you do - so he did what he could to keep you.
He did his best to defend you, but there was only so many tangible things the star basketball player could protect you from. Gossip and petty cheerleaders, prime examples. Yet Billy still tried, even taking the liberty to confront Brittany's brother, Jason Carver, about leaving you alone. Unfortunately, it was as if Billy's concern spurred on the cheerleader's bullying, calling you pathetic for hiding behind a man and sending him to fight your battles. You told Billy to stay out of it, that you could handle the situation by yourself, that he would just make the situation much more sticky.
So he did. Billy backed off, letting you deal with the situation as best you deemed; offering his support in return, being a shoulder to cry on for the days your frustration peaked.
That entire week Brittany didn't bully you had been extraordinarily tiresome due to your mother's abuse, wanting to confide in Billy but refraining when you rationalized not bringing him into your bullshit. He had enough of his own. So, while, yes, it was a comfort to have him on your side, you never indulged Billy on the woes of your life. He was meant to be your escape, not your savior; the burden of shouldering your abuse while enduring his own feeling terribly unfair.
You kept quiet, even though you were silently begging for someone to save you. Yet you weren't a damsel, there was no Prince Charming, brave knight, chosen champion to slay the dragons terrorizing you.
However, your boyfriend was much more intuitive than you realized. You always prided yourself on your acting skills, convincing everyone around you that you were indifferent to your mother's temperament, even when showing up at school with a casted wrist, black eye, and split bottom lip. Turns out, parents in Hawkins gossiped much more than the kids, and soon, it felt like the entire town knew about your abusive alcoholic mother and runaway father. Nobody did anything to help you, they just tiptoed around the knowledge and stared at your injuries. Brittany Carver was the only person stupid enough to make the mistake of weaponizing your home situation.
It was a tepid spring afternoon, the sun peaking through the clouds and the first flowers sprouting from the thawing ground. The bell rang to dismiss for lunch, the hallways filled with mingling and milling students all grateful for the midday break. Some gathered in gaggles of friends, some headed directly for the cafeteria, and others, like you, utilized the time to exchange morning class books for afternoon materials. Your fractured wrist had long since healed, but there was a long, straight scar present as a result from the surgery you required; currently, a scabbing cut over your eyebrow, lips stinging from where the flesh split, with a collection of bruises turning different colors to represent various healing stages.
Today simply hadn't been your day.
After a week of constant alcohol-fueled battery, you felt your frustrations finally crescendo after being assigned 3 separate essays; doubling your stress, shortening your fuse, and creating heavy leaded dread as the minutes ticked by. Everyone else felt giddy for the spring-tastic weekend, wanting time to go faster so they could go home - but not you. You might've been the one teenager in the city - no, no, the county - no, wait! The state - WAIT, NO... The country, who didn't want to leave school. You didn't want the day to end and be forced out of your safety zone; anxiety twisting your stomach and prickling your skin at the thought of returning home.
Truthfully, you spent several nights a week at Billy's, being snuck in through his window; feeling unsafe in your own home and wanting to remain close without voicing your need for his proximity. You felt stronger with Billy, as if you could take on the world; as if your safety and wellbeing were (finally) a real priority. He took great pride in being that safe haven for you, thinking it a nice change of pace as he often never seized opportunities to prove himself compassionate and caring. Billy was known for being a brute, someone aggressive and commandeering; nobody associating "safety" with him - except you.
However, this wasn't one of those weekends you'd be able to sneak out, being forced into caring for your two wee brothers; them needing you, dependent on you, relying on the care and love you provide them.
As a result of your shitty week, you had been a right, foul bitch to those unfortunate enough to engage you. Being well aware of your attitude, you tried to avoid everyone, not wanting to lash out at innocent peers - labeling yourself a bitch because of your impeccable self-awareness. Though, no matter the labels you assigned, you simply couldn't rein your emotions into check given your anxiety over returning home overpowered your brain.
Knowing you'd be forced to defend yourself against your own mother set your teeth on edge, projecting your horrible mood onto anyone in your vicinity - making most keep their distance.
Keyword: most.
Much like her brother, captain of the basketball team, Jason Carver, Brittany Carver wasn't the brightest bulb of the bunch. She never picked up hints, she didn't bother reading the room or in-between any lines; she held little to no regard for those around her or their emotional state. Brittany just wanted to assert herself as Queen Bee and thought the best way to achieve that was by bullying those she deemed lesser then she. It gave her a power trip, made her feel swollen with importance, boosting her ego because in her mind, she'd rather be feared than loved.
Brittany was dressed in her pretty, pressed, and bright cheer uniform; her obnoxiously blonde hair tied in a high ponytail that swished dramatically with each step. She wore cherry flavored lip gloss, her make-up caked, skirt hiked higher than school regulation permitted because she suckled at the teat for attention - good or bad.
You heard the second bell ring and finished shoving books in your locker, trying to stuff notebooks in your bag when your locker was suddenly violently slammed shut. Flinching at the quick movement and aggressive bang, you glared at whoever dared interrupt you; a manicured hand flat on the metal to keep the locker closed.
"The fuck you want, Brittany?"
"Awh, someone's already got their panties in a twist," she mocked, two of her cronies giggling their support. "C'mon, babe, I was just stopping by to say hello - missed you this week!"
"Oh, for sure," you sneered in a sickly-sweet tone, "of course you missed me, your life is so much more boring without me in it, huh? Wow, seriously, Brittany, I'm flattered to be the main character in your life, too."
Her eyes rolled and one of the other cheerleaders at her flank, Jennifer, popped flavorless gum. "I'm surprised you still have this level of spunk and cheek to talk like that, would've thought Mommy Dearest beat it out of you by now - she hits you often enough, right? Doesn't she? Hmm, well, maybe she needs to hit you a little harder."
"Excuse me?" You snapped.
"You heard me!" She laughed. "Obviously your mom isn't teaching you any lessons since you still have this whole emo-attitude going on. But I can't say I blame her, you're such a bitch - I'd smack the shit outta you, too."
You nodded slowly, not realizing several students had paused themselves to watch the exchange; knowing this was a longtime coming and didn't want to miss the inevitable drama. Dropping your backpack, you asked, "You sure? You really wanna hit me?"
"Is it that hard to believe? I mean," she smirked, "your own mother does - of course, I do, too. Like, seriously, it's not a secret why she hits you - just look at you! No wonder she hates you, you're just a waste of space, resources, and money. Damn shame Billy doesn't see it yet, but don't worry, he will." She laughed again, "He'll get tired of reopening your lip every time you kiss. It's so pathetic and ugly, he'll start to crave what you can't offer. I mean, seriously, what guy with any self-respect wants to date a girl as broken as you?"
"Know what, Brittany?" You growled, balling your fists at your side. "I'll give you one free hit."
"Excuse me, what?"
"Yeah," your head nodded, "go ahead. One free, clean shot. Hit me if you want to so bad, but you'll only get just this one shot."
Her eyes rolled, "I don't need to, your mom's got that covered."
"Free hit, Brit," you taunted, gesturing, "c'mon, go 'head, lemme have it. Since I'm so insufferable, go right ahead - get your clean hit."
Jennifer and Jasmine shared strange looks, the latter nudging, "Just do it, Brittany, shut this stupid bitch the hell up."
"Yeah, Brittany, shut me the hell up."
She looked to her little goons with a smirk, shrugged and handing over her backpack. When Brittany turned again, she dramatically wound her arm back and used her full strength to swing her fist into your cheek; only making your head turn a fraction from impact. You hummed and nodded, the cheerleader laughing with her girls as if she had "shown you" - but her amusement died when she noticed you barely reacted.
You smirked, cracking your neck, "My turn!"
Your knuckle cracked the bridge of the cheerleader's nose - sick sound of a snap ringing in your ears and jolting the girl's head backwards; momentum forcing her to stumble. Brittany shrieked in pain, holding her nose, unable to defend herself as you launched your attack; first slamming her back into the lockers before jabbing your fist into any vulnerable spot you could.
Similar to the movies, you held Brittany by her hair to keep her in place; wailing your punches repeatedly, each hit making Britt bang into the lockers. Jennifer and Jasmine tried to pull you away but both earned their own punches or elbows to the face for the interference. You focused on Brittany, instantly curating a flock of students all eager to watch.
"FIIIIIIGHT!"
"GIRL FIGHT!"
"BEAT HER ASS, Y/N!"
Brittany sobbed as blood dribbled down her front, staining her pretty uniform, but you were just getting started. The hallway turned noisy, a circle forming around you four as all three cheerleaders were staved off; you running on pure anger, adrenaline, and overflowing frustration that encouraged your foot to kick Britt's gut. You'd never admit it, but Brittany's mocking had hurt you past words, made you feel vulnerable, disarmed, as if you were damaged, undeserving goods. With each punch or kick or stomp, you remembered a different instance of your mother's abuse, seeing her face instead of Brittany's; spurring you on with unrestrained force.
In the parking lot, Billy was leaning on his car with a few teammates from the basketball team and enjoying a hearty nicotine-filled break. Though they'd never label it as such, the boys exchanged idle gossip; listening to Conrad Jones detail his latest conquest, sneering about how "easy" Kennedy Stephens was. They were interrupted when Kyle Lambert sprinted up to them, sneakers skidding over asphalt, panting dramatically, "Billy! Billy! Y-You gotta come see this, man! You gotta help!"
"What?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"I-It's your girl - it's Y/N!"
He pushed off his car that was supporting his weight, demanding, "What about her?"
"You gotta come quick, man, you gotta see this! It's fucking wild! Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine tried jumping her - "
Billy was surging across the carpark instantly, tossing his cigarette away before yanking the school doors open. He was instantly greeted by the chaotic sight and sounds of a fight, peers gathered in a large circle; screaming their support and hollering encouragement.
"Billy! Oh, thank God!!" Chrissy Cunningham cried, waving him closer. "You have to help! You have to do something, it's 3-on-1!"
He didn't acknowledge the strawberry blonde, just started instantly shoving through the crowd to reach the edge of the fight. It wasn't the sight he was anticipating - fearing the worst, now pleasantly surprised (and a little turned on).
Blood was splattered on the linoleum floors, a single streak smeared on the lockers. Jennifer was left on the ground with her back against the metal, sporting a busted lip as Jasmine was trying to coax her to her feet - sporting a ruddy face and disheveled look. Left in the center, to the entertainment of the crowd, was you on top of Brittany Carver, heaving your fist time and again into her face.
"Shit," he breathed, intending to step forward to stop the fight but needing to shove Tommy H. out of his way when he stepped forward.
"C'mon, man! It's a girl fight! Don't break it up!" Tommy begged, but Billy bullied through.
"All right, that's enough," he grunted, wrapping his arms around your middle and heaving you up and back a step - needing to engage his core and arms when you wriggled in an effort to free yourself. "Hey, hey, hey - "
"Lemme go! This bitch needs put in the ground!"
"Jesus Christ, when did you get this strong?" He grunted, your feet slipping on blood but still being restrained by your boyfriend's impressive strength.
"Talk your shit again, bitch!" You barked at Brittany, who was sobbing in pain and curling into herself. "Lemme hear you say another Goddamn word, you'll need more than another nose job! Fake ass, plastic bitch!"
Jason joined the center and knelt at his sister's side, helping her sit up, glaring at you and Billy. Your boyfriend grit his teeth when Jason snarled, "You need to muzzle your bitch, Billy!"
"I'll fuck you up for talkin' about her like that, Carver, don't provoke me. Watch yourself," Billy snapped in warning, successfully managing to get you behind him.
However, you dodged around him with only enough time to spit hatefully on Brittany, warning, "You wanna talk shit, you'll get hit! Don't let me hear you again - don't you ever dare say another word about my mama! I'll put you in the ground, bitch, fucking try me! I dare you! Try me again, say shit about my mama, and see what the fuck I do!"
"All right, all right, you made your point," Billy stiffly told you, pulling you away by force to avoid you actually killing Brittany. He got a look at her injuries, thinking there must've been more than a broken nose from the way her uniform was stained and her entire face bloodied. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here, come with me - c'mon, baby, you can't touch her anymore, you made your point, you'll end up killin' her or some shit," he panted, shoving through the crowd and effectively ending the fight.
Billy didn't let go of your form until finally outside - letting you rip yourself away as your blood boiled, adrenaline making you much stronger. He watched you pace; huffing, puffing, seething, all but gnashing your teeth hatefully. "That fucking bitch had it coming, Bee, it was self defense!" You finally explained.
"Oh, yeah, princess, totally looked like it," he scoffed, blocking the doors in case you tried to go back. He lit another cigarette.
"It was, you condescending asshole!" You snapped, eyes ablaze and anger tangible. "She approached me, she ran her mouth, and she hit me first!"
"Well," he sighed, "whatever the reason, it's not worth jail time for beating her to death."
"Might be."
"Ain't nothing worth throwing your life away," he offered you the cigarette, but you refused. "Why don't you just tell me what happened? What'd she say?"
"It doesn't matter, Billy."
"I think it matters when she looks like she's gonna need a blood transfusion to replenish what she's lost."
"Whatever - let it be a lesson that you shouldn't throw stones if you're scared of a boulder."
Billy sighed, smoke blown from his mouth, "C'mon, doll, tell me what happened?"
"Doesn't matter, it's done, it's over, it's in the past."
"Baby, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
"You can't help, period, Billy! There's nothing you can do!"
"Well, you're not even letting me try!"
"'Cause it's redundant!"
"Obviously not when you look like a raging bull!"
Your eyes rolled, head shaking, "I handled it."
"I saw," he scoffed. "So, 3-on-1? How'd that happen?"
"I told you, they approached me."
"Well, I'm gonna need a little more to go on. C'mon, pretty girl, the fuck just happened? You know you can get suspended!" This made you freeze, muscles clamming up, looking purely petrified as if the thought hadn't occurred to you. "I know you don't want that, but if you talk to me, maybe I can help lessen whatever punishment."
"Oh, whatever, like I care about being punished," you snipped, hands twisting together - telling Billy you were beginning to get anxious.
"I think you do, it'd put you in the house with your mom alone," he trailed, pushing away from the doors to approach you like a baby deer. "C'mon, I know you don't wanna get suspended, so just tell me what happened."
"I'm sure you'll hear all about it from your little basketball buddies."
"I don't fucking care!" He snapped with the cigarette trapped and bobbing between his lips, making you look at him in mild shock. "There's gonna be a hundred different rumors, whole fuckin' school watched you beat the shit outta those girls - but I only care about what you have to say."
"There's no point - "
"Oh, Jesus Christ," he growled, snatching the cig between his knuckles, "I just saw three bitches on the ground, all injured, beaten up, bleeding - so stop being so Goddamn stubborn and just tell me! I'm tryna help you!"
"You pulled me off of her, you've helped plenty."
"I'd like to understand how this happened."
"It won't change anything."
"No, it won't, but you have a side to the story. Tell me what went wrong? What happened?"
You sighed, no longer pacing, planting both hands on your hips. Your head shook as Billy tossed the filtered cigarette butt aside, muttering when he exhaled the last of the smoke, "It seems so stupid now."
"Hey," he soothed, crowding into your space and taking one of your hands in his. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it wasn't stupid. You're forgetting, I know well enough to understand you wouldn't throw a punch unless absolutely necessary. Whatever got you riled up like that ain't stupid, sweetheart."
Like a glazed donut, your eyes turned glassy. Billy frowned and took your other hand off your hip, forcing your attention on him. "I swear, I didn't start it," you whispered.
"Only matters that you finished it," he smirked. "Tell me, what the fuck was all that?"
You sighed deeply, offering meekly, "Guess they had it comin'..."
"I know they did," Billy chuckled. "Nobody's that stupid to provoke you, except Brittany."
"I was at my locker... They approached and slammed it shut."
"Right, okay..."
"There were words exchanged, but Brittany, she - " You paused, swallowing thickly, "she started talkin' shit about my mom, about, you know, what she does..."
Billy understood instantly. "You fuckin' serious?" He growled, seeing you nod and fill him in on what was said - unable to look him in the eye as you relived your anger. By the end, you were trembling in emotion and adrenaline loss, Billy sighing deeply and yanking you into his chest for a tight embrace. "All right, yeah," he mumbled, "should've put them bitches in the ground."
"And now," you sniffled, "I'm gonna get suspended, forced to stay home with Ma all next week."
"We'll get you outta it."
"Can't, the school doesn't tolerate fighting on school grounds."
"You said she swung first?"
"Technically, yes. I might've - allegedly - prompted her into it."
"It's still selfdefense, toots, no matter what you or anyone said - if she swung first and hit you, you were only defending yourself."
You shrugged, resting on his chest, "You see the damage? Admin won't care who swung first - not when they're beat to shit."
"Yeah, there's my li'l hothead," he smirked, chuckling slightly before pecking the top of your head. "But you gotta admit, it's impressive how you took on all three."
"I guess, doesn't exactly feel like an accomplishment."
"Nah, princess, seriously," he pulled you back to look at him again, "that's fuckin' hot. I mean, they approached you and still got their asses handed to 'em. That's straight skill."
"Or just a lot of anger with nowhere to go," you frowned. "Think I should go find admin?"
"Nah, they'll probably find you - "
The doors opened and your name was called, the principal's secretary waving you to her. "Fuck," you whispered, releasing Billy.
"I'll come with you," he promised, lacing your fingers together when he took your hand. Billy had to admit, it was a little weird being in the principal's office but not being the one in trouble; waiting without patience in a fraying chair, picking at the exposed stuffing with his leg bouncing. He'd been there 45 minutes, skipping the last half of classes, just waiting as you were behind a closed door with the principal, vice principal, and the disciplinary officer.
He looked up when the school nurse lead Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine inside - glaring at them but admiring the scattering of cuts and bruises with dried blood on their precious uniforms. A few minutes later, you were exiting the office with a passive and neutral expression settled on your face. Your lip curled only slightly when you clocked the cheerleaders - hating how smug they all looked - approaching Billy instantly.
"You all right?" He checked, standing and adjusting his jeans.
"Mhm," you nodded, keeping your voice low as the principal called the three cheerleaders into his office. You waited until the door was closed, then informed with a smirk, "I'm not suspended."
"No?"
"Nope," you confirmed. "Apparently, they asked a couple other kids what happened and my story matches theirs. I was minding my business, they came up to me, they started mouthing off, and Brittany was the one who hit me first. So," you shrugged, "guess your idea of selfdefense held strong."
"See? That's good, huh?"
"Yeah," you sighed, nodding absently, "but he said the girls were gonna lose their spot on the cheer squad for this. Listen, I don't think I feel like goin' back to class - kinda just wanna take a nap."
Billy hiked up his jean jacket sleeve, consulting his watch for a moment. "Wanna head to mine? Neil's got the evening shift and Susan has bridge club for a few more hours - we'd be alone."
Your eyes rolled, "No offense, Bee, I don't feel like fucking right now."
"I'm not sayin' that, I'm sayin' let's go nap at mine," he chuckled, picking up your backpack that you forgot about. "We can come back to get your brothers but you know you're not gonna rest if you go home."
You gulped, sighing sadly, "Yeah, well, about that..."
"Something else happen?"
"Apparently... The school has an obligation to call the police if a student reports abuse."
"You reported your mom?"
"Not on purpose," you rushed in defense, "just that... I had to explain what Brittany said to me - so I had to admit what Ma did - or does."
Billy frowned, "Jesus."
"Yeah, so... Maybe going home isn't the smartest idea right now. I wouldn't wanna be there when they conduct their wellness check."
"You wanna stay at mine?" He offered.
"What about Neil?"
"He's a lot nicer with you around," he admitted. "Won't care too much if you stay the night. Plus Max has that club thing after school, then she's going to the arcade; so, she won't need a ride, we can just go."
"You know what? Sure, all right, I'll come to yours," you accepted, your lover boy whisking you away without a second thought. "Thank you, baby."
Your hands were stiff, and when you looked at them, noted split skin and stained blood as a reminder of your aggression... Wondering why the fuck people pushed you to these limits and acted surprised when you reacted? If they wanted a punching bag, they picked the wrong one - but you were willing to remind them.
When you got to the Hargrove residence, you were silent as the grave; stewing in your anger that rolled off you in projected waves. Billy was terribly disarmed, unsure how to properly comfort you - wondering how he would want to be comforted, realizing he'd want to be alone, not subject to anyone's bullshit advice. So, he did what he knew and after handing you a bag of frozen peas for your split knuckles, comfortably stripped and crashed in bed with the window cracked and a rolled joint between his fingers.
You rested on his bare chest, sighing deeply while watching the end of the spliff come to life in a smoldering ember. Billy took the first inhale to make sure it was lit and instantly handed it to you, his arm snug around you and the silence hanging in the air like the swirls of stale, exhaled smoke.
"I'm sorry it got to this point, pretty girl," He offered awkwardly, his other arm bending to prop under his head. Both of you stared off aimlessly, stereo filling the space dully in the background.
"Not your fault," You inhaled and held your breath, handing him the joint. He casually flicked the end in an ashtray resting on the window sill.
"No, but I could've done more."
You chuckled, smoke seeping through your lips and teeth, "Oh, yeah? How? You gonna beat up three girls?"
"Nah but I could beat the shit outta Jason."
"What good would that do?"
"If he didn't want a weekly black eye, Jason would control his sister."
"It's always about control with you, isn't it?"
"I'm just saying," he handed the joint back, lungs pinched to hold the smoke, "I could protect you."
"You already do, baby."
"Let me do more, princess."
"You can't fight every battle for me."
"You could let me try."
"You'd be fighting on two fronts," you frowned, exhaling slowly. "Can't fight for me when you're defending yourself against Neil."
"Might be easier to deal with your shit than my own," he chuckled without humor, accepting the spliff. "Look, I know you don't want me involved, but that's kinda what a boyfriend's supposed to do, right? Protect their woman?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Never had a boyfriend before?"
"Nobody was worth dating until you. Nobody could understand me the way you do so effortlessly."
"'Cause we're one and the same, baby girl. You don't have to do everything by yourself," he inhaled, handing the spliff over again, "don't always have t'be strong."
"Ain't no other choice."
"You could let me in more..."
"You're one to talk."
He sighed, smoke billowing. "You're right. Can't expect you to open up if I don't, so why don't we both try to let the other in more? Yeah, I get it, the shit we deal with ain't pretty but at least we understand each other, right? We're the best for each other to lean on."
"I don't wanna drag you into my bullshit, baby."
"I want you to drag me in, princess. I wanna help you."
You sighed, "Well, Brittany and her cronies are getting suspended and kicked off the cheer squad - they'll be looking for reason to take it out on me."
"Say the word, baby, and I'll beat Jason black-and-blue."
"You're so romantic."
"Only for you - so don't tell anyone. I got a reputation to protect."
You both snickered as the weed you indulged in took effect, lulling you two into a state of ease. Your knuckles had stopped burning, resting your injured hand under the frozen peas, reminding yourself to remain grateful in this turbulent period of life because now, you had someone on your team. Someone who wanted to help carry your baggage. Someone without alternate motives. Someone who was willing to withstand the storm in the hope of feeling the warmth of the sun again.
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A/N: I needed a sleepy boy on this sleepy day. and billy H needs a damn haircut >:) gif cred: @julie-thefatones
Pairings: Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader
Summary: Billy wakes with the desire to get rid of his hair eating away at him. 0.7k words
Warnings: fluff, minor angst, established relationship, implied night terrors, messy haircuts, anxiety/insomnia, scars, mentions of bullying
Everything Billy can touch is cold and dark. The sheets, the hard wood floor, the bathroom light switch, the porcelain counter. The water that pours from the faucet and the silver rings of the trimming scissors you keep in a soft plastic case in the cabinet below the sink. The only noise he can reasonably detect is the whirring of the ceiling fan. And if he listened carefully enough, paused his thundering heart for just a moment, he could hear your breath as it fans across your pillow.
But he came in here for a reason. Wielding the cold metal shears like Goliath and his sword. Marching into battle at six foot something, only to find himself in the mirror, damp with sweat and pale with insomnia. Deep purple cresting his edges and the thin crescents of skin beneath his baby blue eyes. Though the bathroom gives him a sickly green tint.
The first chunk of hair hits the floor with the faintest thud. So faint, it shouldn't be classified as a thud. But it's more the weight of the change than the handful of dark gold curls itself.
He's lopsided now. Now there's no turning back. But he couldn't proceed forward with any strength and confidence looking how he's looked for years. How he looked beating up his friends and calling girls sluts. How he looked on the verge of death.
Billy used to wear his head of sun kissed, West Coast hair like a helmet. Now it feels like a burden. You'd still fawn over him if he buzzed it all off. You'd call him stupid, sure, but he'd still be yours. And right now, that's all he's concerned with being.
Because you peer into the bathroom and coo his name like you don't see the growing pile of hair writhing around on the floor.
"Hi, baby," you whisper, cradling the scissors when he drops them into your hands, "little early for a haircut, isn't it?"
He shrugs, but he doesn't look at you. Like a child guilty of putting a piece of gum in his sister's hair. Only he's the one with the choppy locks, uneven chunks missing by his ears and the back of his head.
"Want help?"
Oh, and there are those baby blues, surrounded by soft pink sclera and nearly drooping from their sweetened places above his flushed cheeks.
Billy straddles the toilet lid backwards, arms crossed and settled on the ledge. He lets you turn his head side to side, up and down, and the pattern becomes soothing. Especially as the extra weight accumulates below his socked feet and over his sloped shoulders.
He thinks he must’ve passed out to the sound of the clippers, because he wakes with a tap on his shoulder. Your manicured pointer on his warm midnight skin rousing him from a dreamless sleep.
“Hmm?”
“All done,” you whisper, kissing his temple when he turns his head, “come look.”
Billy’s fingers feel heavy as he drops them between yours. You can hear the exhaustion in how he slumps to a stop in front of the mirror. He takes his time, a few deep breaths, and a while to admire the cropped cut. The way he hasn’t looked in years. It’s refreshing.
“You look really handsome, Billy. Was about time for a trim.” There’s a lilt in your voice that’s hard to take. It lightens his chest, straightens his shoulders, widens his tired eyes. Because there’s this sort of mischief clear on your face from where you stand behind his shoulder. He can feel it through the mirror. Intoxicating and delicious. Makes him feel beautiful as if he ever has before.
Billy whips around and twists his arms tight around you, collapsing into your embrace like a lovely paper doll. The room is cool like a nice glass of water. Even with the sun hinting at the morning and cars whizzing by down below, the light blue of five AM settles over him like a blanket.
You run your fingers up the exposed back of his neck, and he groans. The hair is short there, his neck is hot, his teeth sink into your shoulder playfully.
“Back to bed.”
He nods and does not let go, just waddles you to the bed, tucking the both of you back under the duvet with a big sigh.
masterlist
#stranger things#x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x reader#fluff#angst#billy hargrove#hurt/comfort#x gn!reader#x gn reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove fluff#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x gn!reader#drabble#billy hargrove drabble
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Angsty Harringrove idea where Billy goes missing and Steve's the only one who notices. Turns out Billy was kidnapped by someone (or something considering the Stranger Things verse), and he was completely convinced no one was coming to save him when Steve shows up to rescue him. Cue Billy becoming an emotional mess as he clings to Steve, who helps carry an injured Billy back to safety.
#inspired by the whumptober prompt#no one is coming for you#billy genuinely believing it and then steve showing up#harringrove#stranger things#stranger things au#billy hargrove#steve harrington#angst#kind of#billy deserves to be comforted
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billy 🎬
billy. 10:57 pm.
he was so,, different. in that moment. his neck was tense, muscle and veins protruding from his throat when he spoke. he slammed his hand flat against his chest, and the blue of his eyes seemed so cold. the light had left them, he was the raging shell of blood boiling resentment and vexation.
when you looked at him he saw the vastness of your stupor. he knew he wasn't the man you adored in that moment. all he saw was red behind your silhouette and regret flooded his chest the moment he slammed the door of your bedroom and shoved the keys in his camaro.
the silence that swallowed you whole was muddled with the yelling that previously filled your room. it was unbearable, suffocating even, to be alone in that silence. your back hits your bed, eyes blurry and staring only at your ceiling to lay in thought. he'd come back, you hoped at least.
it must have been hours, or so it felt. you'd showered off the yelling and screaming and laid in bed trying to quiet your brain if only for a moment. the quiet doesn't last for much longer as the sound of your creaky front door opens and closes, the lock is flipped after and heavy footfall leads to your bedroom door. each step made the anxiety in your blood pulse, your mouth going dry when he stops at your door and turns the knob.
the moment you saw him enter your room you saw him again. he was whole. though he felt an endless weight on his shoulders dragging him to the earth's crust, leaving him only with his thoughts of endless regret. he wets his lips as he removes his jacket and lays it on your dresser, sitting beside you on your bed.
the silence wasn't painful anymore. the anxiety diminished some, but having him so close to you still made your nerves perk up in anticipation.
you lay crisscrossed next to him, he leans his elbows over his knees, head low, your hands fiddling with your cuticles. he raises a cautious hand and grasps your own, intertwining his fingers tight with your own and squeezes your hand. you squeeze back.
is there more to say? you're unsure if an apology is appropriate when silence and his warm hand in your own seemed enough justification for your argument. billy is faced with regret, but he swallows back his vexation of himself to be there with you in that moment. he owes it to you. he owes it to you to communicate, to be a good man, he thinks. even if your only communication is your intermingled hands.
it's a shot in the dark but you hope he's comfortable. scooting forward you lean your cheek against his shoulder and bring your hands to your lap, closing your eyes for a moment to breathe in the peace.
he smelled of cigarettes and that beige colored cologne he loved. if you remember correctly the bottle was getting severely low. and he had a musk about him. that comforting, warm scent that followed him everywhere. the signature scent that brought a fluttery feeling beneath your ribs.
he turns his head slightly to the left, and his cheek gently meets your forehead. he adjusts for a moment and he smells your leave in conditioner and detergent. you reminded him of the ocean, your heart was invested in everything you did, and maybe it was something else he couldn't quite put his finger on, your hair or style or vinyls you collected. but every time he thought of you he remembered the good parts if california.
your urge to speak soon faded, and the lights in your bedroom were lowered. only the light of the moon cast cuts of white glowing light through your blinds. he took a quick shower and changed shirts and joined you in bed quickly after. your arms opened the covers to him, legs soon entangling in the warmth of his body. your face found home in his neck and collarbone, you breathed him in. he felt your back and waist beneath his skin and splayed his fingers more as if to feel every inch he could for the moments he was gone.
and it felt okay. everything was gonna be okay. it was gonna be okay.
my birthday prompt challenge is still going on, feel free to request here.
#billy hargrove#stranger things#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove angst#billy hargrove comfort#billy hargrove fluff#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things scenario#stranger things comfort#stranger things angst
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"I want to open up your ribcage, crawl inside and close the door. A niche made just for me, between your heart and your stomach".
Same version below, just without the written part ✨
#art#fanart#werecat steve harrington#steve harrington#harpy billy hargrove#billy hargrove#mythology au#harringrove#i'm not gonna lie#i was inspired bc i was following a twitchlive about the dreams/wishes theory of the new pkmn dlc#don't ask me why my mind made this type of connection bc I don't know either#but it comforts me a lot drawing them as clingy as possible so ✨#I'm making myself sick with all this sweetness#mangywayway
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AU where Steve accidentally witnesses Neil being the shitty dad he is to Billy
#harringrove#and he comforted billy afterwards#or billy turned defensive and vulnerable and tried to push steve away and tell him to leave#billy hargrove#steve harrington#billy x steve#billy hargrove x steve harrington#harringroveera#incorrect harringrove quotes#incorrect billy hargrove quotes#harringrove meme#harringrove textpost#harringrove edit#harringrove memes#harringrove + text posts#harringrove au#steve x billy#steve harrington x billy hargrove#steve harrington meme#billy hargrove meme#billy hargrove text post#incorrect steve harrington
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