Billy Hargrove X Reader - Blog Posts

Stranger Things Characters

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Billy Hargrove - Fic Recommendations

Main Rec Masterlist

@deathvalleyusa

Sugar Sugar -> Chrissy tries not to expect anything from Billy on Valentine’s Day. Billy manages to surprise her.

@gutterdreams -> masterlist

peacekeeper part 1 -> Your relationship is great. It’s just your boyfriend’s dad that’s the problem.

@stevesharrlngtons

sin bin -> billy’s two favorite things were as listed: you, and hockey

slow responses -> volleyball, a rivalry, a head injury and a worried boyfriend.

@strangerstuffandthingsimagines

Birds of prey mini series

Birds of prey -> Billy had every intention of dropping Tommy H after senior year, that is until he meets the other H sibling.

Morning dove -> Sneaking around becomes more and more difficult for Billy and the Reader, especially when they are right under Tommy’s nose.

Blue jay -> The reader takes Billy to the Sadie Hawkins dance at her school, although both have other things on their minds.

Fan Fic Masterlist

All These are of fan fics that I like

Pedro Pascal Characters

Peaky Blinders

Harry Potter

Stranger Things

Loki

House of The Dragon

tequila [billy head canon]

I’ve never written a headcanon before. My beautiful and loving wife @stevesharrlngtons encouraged me to try it and, like the good spouse I am, I take her advice.

Billy was an experienced drinker.

He couldn’t even remember the first time he had a sip of alcohol.

It was just always around from the time he was small.

Strangely enough, even with his Dad being the strict asshole he was, Billy always got away with drinking underage.

So when you two would party together, he crushed three beers for every one cooler you sipped on.

Keep reading

bonding [billy hargrove headcanon]

It was Friday. Finally.

Billy had been watching your neon pink lips move along to the gum being chewed behind it all through out last period.

He just wanted them on him now.

He was curious to know if it was cinnamon or bubblegum

Keep reading

backdoor [b. hargrove headcanon]

Warning: There’s a touch o’smut. Read at your own discretion.

Neither of you knew how it happened.

Neil and Susan were out at a dinner party.

Max was out wandering around Hawkins with The Party.

Tommy was grounded.

It was just you and Billy alone in his house.

In the three months you two had been with each other, that had never happened.

The Hargrove home was an ever-revolving door of chaos and noise.

You two tried to escape to his bedroom sometimes to study.

To fool around.

But Susan and Neil insisted the door stay open.

It had been the single most frightening seven and a half minutes of your life: giving Billy head with his bedroom door open.

Keep reading

slow responses.

billy hargrove x reader

summary: volleyball, a rivalry, a head injury and a worried boyfriend.

word count: 4.6k

a/n: @gutterdreams gave me this idea, and helped me with this a lot and i just love her! also i used to play volleyball and always wanted to be really good (i wasn’t) so i’m living vicariously through the reader. feedback is appreciated 

You breathed deep, the sounds in the gym becoming a dull hum in your consternated state. Your hands were placed firmly on your knees, the end of your ponytail ghosted across your back as you moved side to side.

This was it. This was the biggest game of the season, and you weren’t going to be the one who fucked it up.

Keep reading

come on.

drabble five of five

billy hargrove x reader

summary: the one where you are forced to drive the camaro. 

a/n: last one! i hope you guys enjoyed this little week of drabbles. let me know which was your favorite one, or if you liked this. if so, i might do this again in the future. also, oops, this is longer than 1k but oh well. enjoy (:

You had insisted on calling a cab for you and Billy, but he had dismissed the offer. That was something you vehemently reminded him when he recalled with slight anger, but mostly amusement, the time you drove his car.

You and Billy were at one of Lou Reynold’s Spring Break blow outs. You hadn’t been deemed the designated driver, but after looking over the sea of only Pabst Blue Ribbon and rum, you decided to avoid alcohol for the night. You and Billy usually spent most of a party together, making out, groping each other and the like. But tonight, you had seen an old friend of yours, Ashley, that you were dying to catch up with. You told Billy you’d meet up with him later, and he gave you a nod and a curt kiss to the temple and disappeared into the sea of people around you.

Keep reading

stevesharrlngtons masterlist

 finally making this bitch! stories, drabbles and headcanons for billy hargrove, steve harrington, nancy wheeler.

Keep reading

it’s a good thing.

(billy hargrove x female reader)

summary: billy hargrove knows that soulmates are bullshit. especially when he meets you, because you’re not his soulmate. and that really sucks, because billy is kind of going insane.

word count: 3, 551

a/n: this is set roughly to mindset by every avenue. this would have been done earlier but my dad kept asking me what i was typing and there was no way in hell i was gonna say that i was writing a soulmate au featuring a hot guy with a mullet. BUT HAPPY NEW YEAR’S EVERYONE! i hope that it’s wonderful and great and that we all kick 2018′s ass! 

It wasn’t that Billy hated the song, but if he had to see the words i bless the rains down in africa one more time on his hip, he was going to scream. It wasn’t like he went looking for it, but anytime he was changing, he’d glance down. More often than not, some song lyric would be scrawled in black. It etched across his skin in a feminine sort of chicken scratch, one that made him embarrassed in the locker room.

He walked over to his bedroom mirror, teeth gnawing at his lower lip as he regarded himself. He still needed to get dressed and grab a bite to eat before school, but there was time to stall. Not long, though. His fingers itched to tug the hem of his boxers down just a little, but he was faltering.

“Anything but Toto,” he mumbled under his breath. He hesitated for a second longer before jerking the fabric down. The black ink was stark against the tan of his skin.

who you gonna call

“Jesus, you’ve got shit taste in music,” he said, shaking his head. He allowed himself the smallest of grins, that familiar flicker of warmth darting through his chest. It only lasted a second, that brief allowance of hope. It was squashed after that, Billy hardening himself against it.

Soulmates were bullshit. Utter bullshit.

Keep reading

Peacekeeper PT 1 [Billy Hargrove]

Word Count: 5.2k. Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF used below. 

I also don’t know if this is any good. I don’t know. Be nice. I hope you enjoy.

There was a long list of reasons why Billy’s life was better since you two started seeing one another and number nine was that you relieved him of most of his babysitting responsibilities when it came to Max. In fact, Susan seemed to prefer you to be the one hanging out with her daughter on a weekend night than her fiery-tempered stepbrother. You had expected that this Saturday Billy would stay at his house with you while his dad and Susan drove out of town to have dinner with a few couples from Neil’s work, but he opted to go to Tommy’s place and trash the basement with his buddies. He said he would be back before eleven so you two could fool around against his dresser, but you knew that Billy had a penchant for losing track of time when he was with his friends.

Keep reading

Morning Dove (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

Birds Of Prey Pt. 2

Summary: Sneaking around becomes more and more difficult for Billy and the Reader, especially when they are right under Tommy’s nose.

Warnings:  Romantic themes, Mentions of Billy’s abuse, Tommy being mean to the reader, mentions of parental infidelity, crude language (use of the word slut)

January

Such an unfamiliar feeling it was, to have fallen so deeply in love with someone so fast that you could hardly keep up with the world around you.

It was as if nothing existed, just the two of you. It wasn’t like Billy Hargrove to fall in love, but he couldn’t deny the gut-wrenching thought of ever losing you, whether it be the way he lost his mother or the way most young lovers do.

Whenever he wasn’t sure if you had meant it when you told him you loved him, he’d call you in the middle of the night.

Your sleepy voice brought a sense of comfort to him, the image of your tired eyes almost unable to open as your cheek pressed against the side of the phone made his heart pound.

On this night he had found his way to your window, lightly knocking his bloody knuckles against the glass.

As your figure emerged from the shadows of your room, only to be silhouetted by the warm glow of your lamp, Billy longingly admired your shape. In nothing but your silky, pearl nightgown, you opened the curtains to your room. Your arms extended like miraculous wings, you were a vision of a dove.

Worry washed over your gentle features as you saw the state he had been left in. The corner of his mouth was split, dried blood smeared down his chin and along with his jaw, collecting under his nostrils in clumps. Purple bruises had begun to form along his swollen brows, a few slowly forming on the exposed skin where his chest peaked through his shirt.

Frantically, you turned the crank that opened the window. The air was frigid and brisk, goosebumps erupting along your arms.

“Hey, angel.” He choked out, stumbling into your room as your arms wrapped protectively around his strong back.

“Billy.” You breathed as he sank into your embrace. “Did he do this?”

“I talked back apparently.” He mumbled into your hair.

Guiding him backwards before turning him around, you say him down.

“Stay here, I’m going to go get something to wash and clean those cuts,” You explained, his hand catching your wrist before you could go. The sorrow in his eyes was undeniably painful to look at, it was almost as if he were scared for you to go, afraid you’d never come back.

“Billy?” You asked, glancing between him and your wrist. Slowly he let go, giving a sad nod. “I’ll be right back.”

Within a few minutes, you returned with an armful of supplies to help aid Billy. Setting them down on the mattress next to him, you gently wiped his face with the warm washcloth. His fist tightened once you dabbed the rubbing alcohol over his wounds, only to relax when your lips touched his forehead.

“Thanks,” he whispered, his hands finding your hips as he looked up at you. He nuzzled his head into your abdomen, rubbing against the smooth, silky fabric of your nightgown. Your fingers combing through his locks, soothing his nerves as he was still shaken by what had happened.

Your brows knitted together as you noticed blood seeping through the back of his shoulder.

Sliding your hands down from his hair and onto his shoulders, you lightly pushing him back.

“Let’s get these off, okay?” You asked, your fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, his head gently nodding.

The bed dipped as you crawled onto the mattress, situating yourself behind his back. Billy shivered as your arms laced around his neck, sliding down his chest as your fingers undid the buttons of his shirt.

Peeling back the fabric of his shirt, you helped Billy wriggle it off of his arms.

Your chest tightened, your eyes growing wide. It was now that you realized just how badly he had been thrown around. Little scars branded his flesh, cuts and scrape’s coating his shoulder blades.

Desperately wanting to take away his pain, you peppered kisses across his back, as if somehow your touch would heal his wounds.

“How can I help you?” You choked, fighting back tears, unable to bear seeing him suffer like this.

The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any type of guilt or sorrow, especially not with his own issues and woes.

His body twisted around to look back at you, placing a hand on your lap with a sad smile.

“You can’t.” He whispered.

You pressed his bruised knuckles to your lips, before placing his palm against your cheek. His other hand found your other cheek as he leaned into you, slowly reclining you back onto the bed.

“Does it hurt?” You asked sadly, staring at his beautiful face that had been poisoned by his father’s rage.

“No.” He smiled as he stroked your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Not when I’m with you.”

Your lips contorted into a sideways smile, pouting with amused eyes.

“Now look who’s being corny.” You teased,  rubbing your hand up his chest. Billy cocked a brow at you, delighted by your sudden change of attitude.

Your touches were soft, like feathers against hard steel as they wandered his skin.

The smell of bacon grease wafted into your room, at first you thought nothing of it, that is until you realized the only reason as to why bacon would be being made.

Your cheek was pressed against the warmth of Billy’s chest, panic now ensuing.

“Good morn-“ Billy began before you abruptly sat up, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

“My parents are home, they-fuck they must have come back early.” You exclaimed, a wild look in your eye.

Footsteps click-clacked down the hall, no doubt it was your stepmother and her Mary Janes. Your eyes fell on the doorknob, your heart nearly falling into the pit of your stomach as you realized you hadn’t locked the door.

“Honey! Breakfast is ready, come on you and your brother can’t sleep away the day.” She sighed, the knob turning.

Slamming your body against the door as it began to slowly creak open, your stepmother let out a loud gasp of surprise.

“Sara-Anne, I’m naked! I just got out of the shower!” You yelled, forcing the lock shut. “I’ll be down in a minute, okay?”

“Alright, um honey it might be wise to put on a towel. Don’t want to see you walking around in your birthday suit.” She huffed, still having a hard time grasping the strange behaviours of the two teenagers living in her house.

Billy watched in amusement, not even phased about nearly being caught by your stepmother.

“Get that smug look on your face.” You glared, before bouncing back onto your bed. “Or I’ll have to get rid of it myself.”

“I’m liking the sound of that.” He smirked, hooking his arm around you, pulling you into his lap. “How much time do you think we have.”

“I think I can schedule you in.” You murmured against his lips.

With a satisfied look on his face, Billy snuck out of your backyard. A cigarette hanging from between his teeth and bottom lip as he leaned over to light up-that is until a certain yellow blob in the wilting tree caught his eye.

“Well holy shit.” He said, the cigarette bobbing with his words.

He looked around, making sure the coast was clear before making an absolute fool of himself.

Within thirty minutes, Billy found himself tangled in branches, the small Canary tilting its head as Billy tried to grasp the small bird.

“Come here you little shit.” He seethed, the cigarette now on the sidewalk below. “Come on, I’ve gotta bring you back to my girlfriend- to your mama.”

The bird inching closer to the end of the branch, letting out a small chirp at Billy.

“Don’t you dare-do not take another step,” Billy warned, clinging to the branches as he inched closer to the bird.

“Don’t you want your mama?” The yellow bird perked up at the sound of “mama”.

“Oh shit, you like that word? Mama? Ma-Ma.” Billy cooed, making kissing sounds as he reached outward.

Mrs Elbert waddled along the sidewalk, her cane scraping against the cement. Her wrinkled face furrowed together as a leg hung down from the old sycamore tree.

“What in the hell?” She grumbled, shuffling closer.

“Got you, you little shit.” A voice exclaimed wildly from above.

A loud snap cracked overhead, followed by a series of profanities as Billy smacked against the grass, rolling down the small incline and stopping at Mrs Elbert’s white tennis shoes.

“What are you doing up in the trees?” The old woman nagged, poking his chest with the end of her cane.

Prying one eye open, Billy squinted up at the woman as the morning sun burned his eyes.

“Just bird watching.” Billy breathed shakily as the wind had been knocked out of him from the fall.

The small bird squirmed against his chest.

It was a miracle your beloved Morty had survived the cold months-despite all the odds stacked against him, he had found his way back to you.

You were surprised to see Billy at your front door, especially considering your entire family was home. When Tommy had called for you, his tone was annoyed more than anything.

“I found your bird,” Billy said, resisting the urge to smile or show any genuine happiness to see the excitement and joy in your eyes as you carefully scooped Morty up in your hands.

“You should’ve beat it over the head with a rock,” Tommy grumbled, annoyed his malicious actions hadn’t succeeded, as he pulled on a jacket.

“Thanks. It’s Billy…right?” You grinned once Tommy’s back was to you.

“Don’t mention.” He smirked, running his tongue along his front teeth.

It wasn’t long before your father whisked Sara-Anne off on another business trip three cities over.

It was only a matter of time before the seniors of Hawkins high pooled into your home, drunkenly dancing and hooking up in the hallway closet.

Tommy shotgunned his fourth beer, slowly beginning to feel buzzed, eagerly trying to impress Billy but to no avail as he had already disappeared into the crowd.

As Carol sloppily danced, her beer spilt onto the carpet.

“Careful, my dad will blow a gasket if he figures out I threw a party.” He scolded, Carol only laughing in response.

“Let’s go break in your new mattress.” She drawled, seizing him by the wrist and pulling him toward the stairs. Tommy wasn’t about to argue with her on that suggestion.

As the two tumbled down the upstairs hall, Tommy was now starting to feel the side effects of the four beers he had downed earlier. He sobered up pretty quickly as he noticed the light pooling out from under your bedroom door-accompanied with soft giggles and incoherent murmurs.

You had made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with his party, and that you would be hanging out with some friends from your school.

“Hey!” He yelled banging on the door, his words slurring. “That’s my sister’s room, y-you sick fucks.”

It was a dangerous game you were playing, having Billy under your roof whilst you were under him, all while your brother was lurking about the house.

April

“You can’t be serious.” Tommy rolled his eyes, tossing a baseball up into the air before catching it again. “There no way Billy is screwing my sister.”

“Half.” Carol reminded with a bored tone as she filed her nails. Her body sprawled across his bed, annoyed beyond belief that Tommy hadn’t so much as touched her since she arrived.

“Where the fuck did you even get that from? I mean, why would Billy even humour her? She’s a total loser, you saw how upset she got over a dumb bird. Billy only bangs babes.” Tommy asserted.

“Sounds like you want to bang him.” Carol quipped, not looking up from her nails.

Tommy ripped the nail file from her hand and whipped it across the room.

“You’re being a real bitch, you know that?” He snapped, her hands raised in defence as she rolled off the side of his bed.

“I’ve got to pee, if you don’t stop acting like a dick when I come back then I’m leaving.” She threatened before heading down the hall, leaving Tommy on his bed, Carol’s words simmering in his mind.

Susan Mayfield was a mousy woman, but she had a kind soul.

When she answered the door to a very distressed looking girl, she had expected that perhaps you needed to borrow the phone.

“Hi sweetheart, can I help you?” She asked with motherly concern, hiding her slender frame behind the door.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t have bothered Billy at home like this but I uh-I really need to talk to him.” You explained, glancing behind you now and then to ensure Tommy hadn’t followed you.

“Billy? Right, of course! Come on in.” She said opening the door, stepping out of the way to allow you through.

“Thank you, it’s just I-I didn’t know what else to do.” You said, picking up your bird cage with a chirping Morty inside. “Is it okay if I bring him in, I don’t want him to get sick and-“

The tears began to spill down the sides of your face as you thought about what Tommy threatened to do to your bird.

“Of course, please come inside. My husband actually just stepped out, so don’t mind the quiet.” She said, placing a welcoming hand on your shoulder as you sniffled.

As she led you down the hall, you couldn’t help but notice the old wallpaper that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. 

It was strange, the more you thought about it the more you realized that Billy had actively made an effort to avoid bringing you over to his home. Although, you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to, considering his home life wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“Billy?” Susan asked very softly as she cracked open his bedroom door.

He looked up from the records that he had been organizing, somewhat surprised by Susan’s presence.

“Yes?” He asked in a confused tone.

“Your girlfriends here, um she seems very upset.” She whispered, glancing back at you as you seemed to have spaced out.

His eyes widened at the term “girlfriend”. It was strange to hear it out loud as neither of you had ever said it other than in the safety of your room or his car. His attention quickly dissolved from the label of your relationship and onto the part about your distress.

“Oh.” He said, quickly getting to his feet once he saw the state you were in as Susan gestured for you to come over.

Susan closed the door behind her to allow for some privacy, still worried about you as she returned to the living room.

“I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want me to come here but I just-“ you couldn’t form a proper sentence as you unravelled in front of him.

Billy took the birdcage from your hand and gently set it down, proceeding to engulf you into his embrace.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” He cooed, stroking the back of your hair as you began to sob.

The closest he had ever seen you cry was the day he first saw you, when you nearly wept right then and there over the loss of your bird, then again on the night he found himself in your bed completely battered.

“He said-Tommy said he was going to kill Morty. That he’d go into my room when I wasn’t home, unscrew the lock that you put in for me, and break his neck.” You explained, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

“Carol put the idea in his head that there was something going on between us.” You paused, stepping back to meet his gaze. “Billy, he’s never liked me, but the way he looked at me the way he spoke to me was pure hatred.”

You were a product of Tommy’s father and his infidelities. You had taken his family from him, in his eyes of course, and now you were taking his friends. It was far from the true reality, but Tommy was hellbent on making it loud and clear that he was not about to let you ruin another pointless aspect of his life.

“Y/N, stay here. I’m going to go knock his teeth in and break his-“ Billy seethed but was cut short by your cries.

“No, please! Please, he’ll kill my bird.” You whimpered. “Please, just leave it. I have to go home to him not you.”

“Then why come here? Huh?” He asked, not angry with you but rather angry that you wouldn’t allow him to protect you.

But alas, this was your fight, through and through it was your battle to be won, for your wings hadn’t been clipped.

“The same reason you came to my window in the middle of the night covered in bruises.” You retorted.

The hard lines in his face slowly dissolving into nothing as he began to understand just how similar you two were when it came to the problems you faced at home.

At that moment he thought of Max. 

Billy Hargrove thought of how terrified he was of his father, and how scared you were to face the wrath of your own brother.

Then he thought of the look on Max’s face when he grabbed her wrist that day in the car.

No matter how many times he had gone over it in his head, no matter how many times he told himself it was for her own good, that his bigoted father would unleash his anger onto her the way he did nearly every day onto Billy, if he found out who she had been hanging around with.

He could convince himself he was protecting her, but in reflection he knew had only frightened her.

“Follow me, bring Morty too.” He said after letting out a heavy sigh.

Following after Billy, carefully holding the cage in your arms, you lingered behind him as he knocked on his sister’s door.

“What?” The younger girl asked, clearly not happy about seeing her step-brother at her door, although when she saw the tear-stained face of the girl behind him, with a birdcage, clung to her chest, she had a feeling something was wrong.

“Max, could you watch Morty- her bird for a bit?” He asked, knowing too well what would happen if Neil found him in his own room, the memory of his goldfish being flushed down the toilet-still well and alive- when he was in the third grade haunting the back of his mind.

“Uh…sure.” She said, only agreeing for your sake as the sadness in your eyes was enough to compel anyone to help.

It was one of the few times Max had seen Billy show any emotion other than anger or annoyance, he seemed worried. 

He seemed human.

“Look,” Billy said as he stuck his tongue out at you, revealing the blue stain covering it.

You laughed happily, revealing your matching blue tongue.

It had become a sort of ritual between the two of you, whenever one was feeling down or had a rough day you’d make your way to the gas station and get a slushie.

In all honesty, Billy hated the blue raspberry flavour-it was far too sour and the sweetness didn’t last long enough for his liking. It was only when he saw the happy look on your face after he chose your favourite flavour, that he would pretend to love it every single time.

“Thanks for this.” You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder whilst placing your drink in the cup holder. “I feel a lot better now.”

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Billy asked as he stirred his straw around the blue slush.

You sat up, facing him now.

“You want me to?” You smiled.

Billy hadn’t allowed you to step foot inside Hawkins high. Whether it be from the shame he felt by his reputation or the desire to keep his two worlds apart, he was pretty adamant about not taking you near the high school.

You attended West Lafayette, an all-girls school that was an hour bus ride into the next city over. The girls at school practically drooled when you showed them a picture of your “secret boyfriend” that you had taken of him at the video store, as it was part of a promotion for Polaroid.

With the Sadie Hawkins dance approaching at your school, and the various dances thrown at Hawkins you were itching to ask Billy to go with you. Now that he had bridged the gap between your relationship and school, you thought maybe he would be open to the idea.

“Of course, I need my girl on the courtside. You’re my lucky charm.” He said, tapping his hand against your thigh.

Your brows narrowed as a mischievous look spread across your face.

“Am I…magically delicious?” You grinned.

For a moment Billy had a salacious look in his eyes, taking your words as come on. That is until he realized you were referring to the cereal brand slogan.

“You are relentless.” He groaned leaning his head back against the rest. “I walked right into that one, huh?”

“You love me.” You said nudging into his shoulder. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long as he broke into a toothy grin, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

The gym erupted into shouts and whistles as the cheerleaders pooled in, waving their pompoms as they pumped up the crowd.

It was strange seeing how excited people got over a basketball game, especially for a high school team. Sports at West Lafayette were more serious, there wasn’t a big production made out of the lacrosse games and scouts frequented the soccer tournaments.

One of the cheerleaders giddily ran up to you, waving the pompoms in your face and chanted “let’s go Hawkins Hawks” before running back over with the rest.

You found a spot near the back, hoping to go undetected by Tommy.

Your hands tucked the back of your sundress under your thighs as you sat down on the bleacher, pulling the sides of your cardigan closer to your body as the gym was rather cold.

As the basketball players piled into the gymnasium, sneakers squeaking against the smooth floor.

“Look at that ass on Hargrove.” A girl squealed, elbowing her friend next to her.

Your smile faded at her words, somewhat feeling insecure about yourself.

“What I’d do to do him.” The friend giggled, taking a sip of her coke.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of your dress. You hadn’t even humour the idea that Billy was embarrassed by you or even if he was just using you, and that being the reason as to why he never wanted to bring you around the school.

Of course, you knew that wasn’t the case, Billy wasn’t going to flaunt you around at Hawkins when Tommy was there. But the more you heard the Hawkins girls gush over him, the more insecure you felt.

Once the game finished, you lingered around the halls, holding your breath until Tommy finally left.

Glancing over at the clock on the wall, you let out a sigh as thirty minutes had passed by. It seemed as if every player but Billy had made their way out of the change room.

Hesitantly you pressed your palms against the door, a gust of steam blew against your face. The squeak of the shower tap echoed in the empty change room, bouncing off of the steel blue lockers.

“Billy? Hell-ooo” You sang, folding your arms across your chest.

“Back here babe, sorry I’m taking so long.” He apologized, walking out from behind the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You found yourself staring at his bare chest, swallowing had as you snapped back up to his eyes.

“You were really great out there. The way you just, y’know tossed the ball around, scored on the hoops.” You complimented.

His hands were warm as he cupped your face, bringing his lips to yours.

“Thanks.” He smiled, brushing your hair back off of your shoulders.

Halfway to his car, Tommy realized he left his keys in the change room bench.

“Fuck. I left the keys in the locker, I’m gonna go grab them. Watch my shit.” Tommy said to Carol before jogging back toward the school.

He paused for a moment as he stood outside the locker room. A devilish grin spreading across his face as he pressed his ear to the door.

“Billy’s getting it” he laughed before bursting into the locker room, eagerly awaiting to see the look on his face.

Unfortunately for Tommy, the joke was on him.

It was a horrifying sight, to see Billy pressed against you as you leaned on the lockers. Your hands tangled in his wild locks, as his lips devoured yours hungrily.

“What the FUCK Hargrove!” Tommy growled, prying him off of you.

Thankfully, Billy had already put on some pants so he didn’t have to worry about his towel falling-not that he’d care.

“Get your hands off of me, bitch,” Billy growled, shoving Tommy backward, slamming into the other set of lockers.

“Really, Hargrove? Making a slut out of my sister?” Tommy seethed, glaring at you before returning his gaze to Billy.

“Don’t you fucking call her that.” Billy roared, his fist connected with your brother’s jaw.

“Stop, Stop!” You demanded, wedging yourself between the two, your hand forcing Billy back by his chest. “Let me handle this-please, for my sake.”

His jaw set in a tight line, his head nodding ever so slightly.

“Tommy, I’m not doing this anymore. We are eighteen now, not five. I don’t give a flying fuck if you don’t like me, quite frankly I fucking loathe you.” You fumed.

“You fucking bastard.” Tommy spat, having lost all control over you.

“Don’t call me that.” You warmed.

“The minute I get home, your bird is dead.” He threatened before stumbling backwards, caught off guard from your fist uppercutting his chin.

It was in that moment that there was a shift in power within the H household.

No longer a feeble dove pinned under the sharp talons of the monstrous vulture, you were now a Phoenix, emerging from the ashes of your predestined burden.

You were free.

Taglist: @madhatterweasley @characterobsessed @cometoceantrenches @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @mayfieldsgirl  @billyhargrovedaddy@kaliforniacoastalteens @denimjacketkisses @edgyeggy0 @klarissa141dr5

the bad shit

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,192

warnings: swearing, possible allusions to depression, brief mention of death, a tiny finger injury, comfort

a/n: my brain does not seem to be in a writing mood right now, but i did manage to crank this out. i do enjoy making billy cry, so there’s that. i hope it’s alright! please let me know what you think. i’d really appreciate it. <33

————

Billy’s been fidgety since he woke. 

You hear the soft thud of his boots, muffled against the carpet of your bedroom floor. He makes his way towards you and kisses your forehead, knowing you’re probably too sleepy for a real kiss this early.

He doesn’t tell you how badly he needs one—that his hands are shaking with it. Though he doesn’t need to tell you. 

You’d heard his alarm clock go off, felt him stay in bed longer than usual, glimpsed him rubbing his face on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to get up. Not one bit. 

And even though you can feel sleep calling you, feel the way it presses at your eyes, the way the warmth of the bed pulls you in—you sit up. 

Billy’s closer to the door now, but he hears you shuffle, and he’s quick to move back to you. 

“You need to sleep, baby.”

But your hands are already on his cheeks, and then you’re kissing him, shutting him up and telling him you’re right here. And you’ll be right here when he gets home from work. You’ll be a phone call away if he needs you during his shift. 

“I’ll walk you out,” you say, and your tone informs him that there’s no room for arguments.

You hook your fingers in his belt loops as you push off the bed, hoping that this will keep your half-asleep form from slamming into the wall. 

You kiss Billy again on the stoop, even if he is berating you for being barefoot in the cold. You watch him walk to the car, catch the way his fingers fumble with the keys, the way he doesn’t even have it in him to slam the door shut. 

He waves at you from behind the steering wheel.

“I love you,” you mouth, blowing a kiss. He’s quick to catch it in his hand, gesturing so that he’s tucking it away in his pocket for later. He responds just as he always does, but you can tell he’s still sleepy. 

That he’s tired. 

————

You aren’t home when Billy gets back to the house. There’s a note on the counter in your sweet scrawl, telling him that you ran out to pick up dinner. Eating at all had completely slipped his mind. 

Billy’s just having a day. He’d wanted to stay home but couldn’t, and not only has he been fidgety, unable to focus for want of home, of you, but his thoughts are getting the better of him. They’re suffocating. Telling him he’s not good enough for you, that he’s a waste of time—of your time. That he should’ve died like he was supposed to in that fucking mall. 

And he knows it isn’t true. He knows that you loved him before any of that, when he was just being an asshole, when he was just pissed that he’d had to move. And you love him now, even when he has bad days like this. 

But his head. His mind. It tells him otherwise. It fights and it claws and it screams at him. And today he is losing that fight, letting his mind yell and tear at him. 

Billy tries to distract himself and wash the dishes, but he only gets so far before he drops something and almost breaks it, before he cuts his finger on a knife he put in the damn sink. After that he tries to find a band-aid but spills all of them on the floor, and the first one he opens gets stuck on the wrapper and he can’t use it. 

Once he does secure the pink bandage around his pinky, he goes to clean up his mess and hits his head on the counter. He tries to change clothes and trips, gets his belt loop stuck on a drawer handle. 

“God fucking dammit.”

After that one he gives up and throws himself on the kitchen floor, choosing a beer with a pull tab rather than a cap for fear he might actually hurt himself and bleed out.

He hears the sound of you locking your car, the door squeaking when you open it, and he knows he should’ve gotten up to help you, but he just couldn’t. He starts to cry. 

“Billy? Where’s my baby?” 

The sound of your voice causes him to hiccup, and you’re on the floor in front of him in a matter of seconds. 

He’s covering his face with his hands, and you know then that the day must’ve gotten the better of him. 

“Hey, let me see you. It’s okay, honey, I’m right here.”

Billy looks up at you, lashes clumped together with tears, nose red and lips all swollen. He looks so frustrated with himself, so beat, that you ache for him. 

He wishes he was stronger. That he wasn’t breaking down in the middle of the kitchen, but you told him once that it’s okay to have bad days. That you're always going to be there on the worst ones. 

He puts the beer down the moment you hold your arms out, crawling into your lap and burying his face in your chest. You don’t care that he’s heavy or that you’re not entirely sure you’re getting any air in your lungs. You care that he’s letting go and that he’s showing you this vulnerable part of himself. 

Billy cries, he weeps, against you for what seems like forever. But you don’t mind. You only want him to feel better. You rub his back, play with his hair, anything to soothe him just that little bit. 

When he’s finished, when he’s caught his breath, he pulls away. His cheeks are pink and you’re sure he’s berating himself for having just sobbed like that. He’s sitting on his knees, fingers scratching at the freckled skin of his arms. He looks young like this. Lost.

“Was it just a bad day? Or is it the bad shit?” 

That is Billy code for I’m spiraling and I need help. For I’m having a hard time and I can’t do it alone. I don’t know how to say it. 

You established that little code pretty early on in your relationship, knowing it would be helpful in getting Billy to talk about his feelings with you. 

“The bad shit,” he tells you. 

“It’s not true,” you say. “Whatever your head is telling you today, it’s not true. Not today, not ever. You gotta say it for me, okay?”

He gives you the barest shake of his head before he pauses and tries to steel himself so that he can do it. He doesn’t want to let you down. 

“It’s not true.”

You grin at him. “Right. And you’re a badass. And we’re gonna eat dinner, and then we’re gonna talk it out, and then we will lay down. And maybe I’ll scratch your back for you.”

Billy nods. He hates that his breath catches at that, that the offer brings him pure, unadulterated joy. 

“Okay.”

He can do that. He knows he can offer that much. 

Because he is a badass. And he can try for you. For himself. 

————

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

tagging: @clovermunson

Hi ;) I'm sorry it's me again 😅😭I've been having an overabundance of fic ideas lately... So... What about reader doing something super nice and cute for Billy's birthday ? He isn't used to it, his family has never remembered his birth date, let alone celebrated his birthday, so when he sees that reader actually remembers his birthday and does something very meaningful to celebrate it, he just ends up crying because of how beautiful the present it : I don't know what the present could be though, like maybe she sings him a song that she wrote for him ? Which is surprising since she has social anxiety which shows how much effort she put into making this day memorable for him. Really choose whatever you think it's best. Thank you !!!

billy vs. the grinch

billy hargrove x fem!byers!reader

word count: 1,084

warnings: swearing, fluff

a/n: hi, my love! please don’t be sorry! i appreciate you trusting me with your ideas. this is really sweet. i hope that you enjoy what i came up with and that it’s what you wanted. <333

————

Billy’s fingers are gripping your belt loops so hard you’re afraid the denim might rip. You push open the front door, the wood cold on your fingertips.

Billy’s been on the verge of tears since seven forty-five this morning, when you hopped down your front step and launched yourself into his arms. “Happy birthday, gorgeous,” you’d said.

He’d only told you his birthday once, right after you met. That you remembered it was making his heart grow, what was it, three sizes? Isn’t that what the Grinch said?

Fuck, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that you were taking him home where he’d get to spend time with the only people he’d felt loved by.

Billy stays behind you after you’re inside like he’s never been here before.

“Is that my birthday boy?” Joyce’s voice carries to the both of you from the kitchen. You keep moving, pulling him along since he refuses to let you go.

Your mother has flour in her hair, and she’s wearing an apron with ladybugs on it. You’re pretty sure Will picked it out for her at some point.

When she sees him, she claps her hands excitedly, smiling brilliantly. She looks so young.

“Hi, Billy! Happy birthday, sweetie.”

She pulls him in for a hug, which he accepts. Joyce Byers has this thing with her hugs. They make everything feel like it’s going to be okay.

“Thank you,” Billy mumbles. You run a hand up the curve of his spine as if to say, It’s okay. You’re not bothering anyone. This is happening because we love you.

When she lets Billy go, Joyce kisses the crown of your head. “Hey, baby. Jonathan picked up pizza. I figured that would be okay?”

You assure her that it is.

Will and Max enter the kitchen from where they’d been in Will’s room. They’d biked home today so that you could spend some time with Billy.

“Happy birthday,” Will says. “You know you can buy lottery tickets now?”

Max snorts. “He wouldn’t have the money for them. He spends it all on cigarettes.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me today or something?” He asks her.

“I was going to give you a hug,” she tells him. “Unless you’re immune to that sort of thing.”

You take Will’s hand, walking over to look at what your mother has been up to, just long enough to give them a minute. Their relationship has improved exponentially in recent months. It’s nice to see them finally have each other to rely on.

On the counter sits a cake in a glass pan. It’s strawberry flavored, which you can see from the pink tinge it has, and there’s chocolate frosting smeared over the top of it.

Happy Birthday, Billy is written in a sloppy scrawl across the top, two big number candles sitting above his name. 18.

Later, after the six of you have demolished it, Billy tells Joyce that it’s the best damn cake he’s ever had, and that she’s not allowed to fight him on it. She obliges.

Billy told Will and Max to pick out a movie because it would stress him out too much. They did, and you all sit around the living room, devouring that too.

Billy thinks about how he’s never felt safer. He enjoys just sitting in this room with these people who he knows care about him, even if it isn’t exactly the group anyone expected him to end up hanging around.

When the movie’s over, you lead Billy down the hall and into your bedroom. “Sit, pretty please. I have a present for you.”

“I told you not to get me anything,” he says.

You tap his knee. “Since when have I ever listened to what you tell me to do?”

Billy chuckles and it makes you smile. You place a manila envelope in his lap.

“Sorry. Didn’t really have anything to put it in.”

“I don’t give a shit about how you wrapped it, baby.” You feel yourself go warm. It doesn’t matter how many times he calls you that—it always has the same effect.

“Open it.”

You sit down on the floor in front of him, the carpet squishing under your legs. You prop your head up, settling your arms on his knees and under your chin.

You watch as he pulls a sheet of thick paper out of the envelope.

Billy’s eyes widen just slightly and his breath hitches.

“Baby.”

It’s a drawing of the Camaro.

You sit up a little more so you can point the specifics out to him.

“I borrowed Jonathan’s camera to take a picture of it one day a couple weeks ago. And I dug out my best paper too.”

You run a finger along the lingering pencil marks. “I tried my best with the blue. I don’t exactly have the most extensive colored pencil collection in the world, and I’d already gone through mine and Will’s, so it’s not perfect, but. It’s still pretty blue.”

First you sketched the drawing, as best as you could, and then you colored it just the same. You used a thin pen to outline it when you finished. It’s simple, but you’re happy with it.

Billy runs his thumb over where you left your signature by the back tire. When he looks up at you his eyes are glossy.

“You drew this whole thing just for me?”

“‘Course I did, Billy.” You wipe away the tear that’s just managed to slip out. “I love you and stuff.”

He tosses his head back, laughing. You kiss his cheek, over a patch of freckles, and he blushes.

“You like it?” You ask.

He sets it down beside him. “Are you kidding? I fuckin’ love it. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Billy is even more touched when he thinks about how it’s not often that you draw. You love to do it, but it’s not something you think you’re that great at. He disagrees by a long shot. So the fact that you took the time to do this means the world.

When he hugs you, he tries to put all of this feeling into it, and you make sure to rub up and down his back as a reminder that it’s okay for him to be emotional about this. You’re sure he wants to fight it.

“I love you too, by the way,” he says into your hair.

You pull back and kiss him. He tastes like chocolate.

“Happy birthday, pretty boy.”

————

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

this is so sweet i just might burst

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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