Billy Hargrove X Reader - Tumblr Posts

You Up? - [Masterlist]

You and Jason Scott have an arrangement no-one knows about, but hiding it from his twin brother Billy seems to be getting more difficult

[Header image by @sebastiansloserclub​]

Pairing; The Scott Twins (Jason Scott/Billy Hargrove) x Fem!Reader

Full series warning; Profanity, angst, smut, 18+

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three  | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

BASIC BIOLOGY - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 4926 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: you're paired with billy for a biology project. you only visit his house once, but it's enough for you to understand why he doesn't want you to come over again. when he starts showing up more and more in your life, you realize that it's basic biology: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

Contents: gn!reader (let me know if i made a mistake on that anywhere!), the climax is a scene that's based on 2.8 (?) where billy finds out that max is missing, and neil shoves him into the closet and slaps him. it's not word-for-word, it's about a different scenario, but it's the same fight. please don't read this if it'll trigger you. fluff, angst, eventual happy ending.

A/N: i hope that you enjoy this! it's been a brainworm of mine for a while, and i'm thrilled to have the first part finished. let me know what you think! I honestly think that this could just be read as a one-shot, so don't let the 'part one' deter you 😅

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

To say that you’re not thrilled about your partner assignment for this biology project is an understatement. Billy Hargrove, said partner, is smoking out the window, and you’re not even sure if he’s heard that you’re partners yet. The most he gives you is a steady glance from across the room, but you think that he might have just felt you burning a hole in the side of his head with your imploring gaze. 

When you’re all released to plan with your partners he makes no move to stand. He only curls his lips tighter around the cigarette and sucks down smoke.

You bite the bullet and stand, clutching your assignment sheet in your hands that are growing sweaty with nerves.

“Hi,” You supply lamely, taking the seat next to him that’s been vacated by his previous seatmate, “I guess we’re partners, then.”

“I guess.” He drawls, tilting his head towards the window to let smoke billow from between his lips. “So, what, you wanna come to mine?”

You freeze. He’s more forward than you’d expected. “Uh,” You thumb through the notes you’d taken, the project rubric, “Like- like today? After school?”

“Yeah,” He hangs his arm out the window to snuff the cigarette out on the sil, “My folks won’t be home ‘til late. We’ll have time to work.”

“Okay,” You agree cautiously, glancing over at his empty rubric sheet, concerningly devoid of notes, “Uh, what’s your address?”

“I’ll just drive you,” He glances at the clock, showcasing three minutes to dismissal, “I’ve gotta take my stepsister home too, though, so we’ll pull into the middle school first.”

“Oh. Thank you,” You blink, fingers curling tight around your papers, “I’ll, uh- go get my stuff.”

You rush back to your seat to pack your bag with a strange haze over your thoughts. Everyone knew Billy, what he wanted, what he did. He was notoriously forward, and though he had been straight to the point, you hadn’t felt like... prey. Still, something tugged at the pit of your stomach, a warning to be careful.

The bell rings and you turn, finding a pair of worn boots in your line of sight. You glance up at the wearer, finding Billy already waiting for you.

“Uh, sorry,” You stammer, rushing to stand and subsequently hitting your head on the desk, “Fuck-!”

“Jesus,” Billy chuckles, and you’re worried you’ll analyze the sound and find components of mockery in it, “Careful.”

“It’s fine,” You hiss, but before you can rub at the spot you’d hit, Billy’s hand is there, mussing your hair and pushing you forwards, towards the door of the class. It’s something you’d do to your clumsy younger brother, and it feels odd coming from the chain smoking California kid everyone talks about.

“My stepsister’s out in twenty,” He informs you, a presence on your left as you walk out the front doors of the school, “So we’ve got, like, fifteen minutes to talk about our plan, if you want.”

“That’s good,” You hum, trailing after him to an impressively flashy car, “I think we should just draw everything. I know she said we could use clay, but that costs more, and I’ve already got colored pencils.”

“Fine by me,” He makes for the passenger door first, throwing it open and gesturing for you to get in, “You can put your bag in the back.”

When you’re seated, he shuts the door for you, and you’re oddly grateful for the gesture. It’s kind, and once more, out of character for the stereotypes you’ve heard about him. There’s a tense few seconds of silence in the camaro as he crosses to the other side, and your cheek finds its way between your teeth. But once he gets in and starts the car up, the stereo blares to life with a mixtape you’re sure he’s made himself.

“Sorry,” He grunts, reaching for the dial, “We can talk.”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, “I don’t mind music.”

Though he cranks the dial back up, it’s not all the way, and the music becomes background noise to the shuffling of papers in your lap.

“So,” You start, thumbing through notes and ideas, “Like I said before, clay is difficult to work with, and messy, plus we’d have to model it and let it dry, and I think leaving clay unattended in my house would result in a disaster. And if we just draw it instead, they’re simple shapes and there’s nothing too complicated to draw, whereas clay would be harder to sculpt. And-”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just draw it,” Billy chuckles again, checking his rear-view mirrors for oncoming cars as he peels out of the parking lot, “If you wanna draw it then we’ll draw it.”

“Oh. Okay.” You sit back with a huff, unsure whether to be indignant because you were cut off or grateful that you seemed to be getting along.

“If you don’t have your colored pencils with you I’m sure my stepsister has some,” He theorizes, “But maybe you should ask her. If I ask her I’ll get one jammed into my eye.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “She’s, uh- spirited, then?”

“Mean-spirited.” Billy drawls, turning a bit harder than he should down a residential street on the way to the middle school, “She sucks.”

You’re sure that Billy wouldn’t be going out of his way to pick her up from school if she sucked. Or at least, if she sucked all the time. You’re well aware siblings have their feuds, but when she runs up to the car with a skateboard in her hands, you know he’s bluffing. If he really disliked her, she could have skated home. Now you know he’s softer than he lets on, but you keep it to yourself, smiling awkwardly up at her when she pulls open your door without looking first.

“Backseat, dipshit,” Billy scoffs, “I’ve got company.”

Company. It sounds like a dirty word, at least, coming from Billy who’s company typically consisted of girls spread eagle over the hood. But you reach for your seatbelt, “I can sit in the back, if you want?”

“No.” He pushes your hand away from the buckle, nudging it into your lap, “She’s younger and she’s annoying. Backseat, dipshit.”

With a huff she slams the door, and you’re suddenly not sure that you’ll avoid a colored pencil to the eye, either. Billy’s peeling out of the parking lot before she’s even buckled her seatbelt, and she sends him a nasty glare through the rearview mirror, one that you’re sure has the power to burn a hole through his head.

“So, uh,” You turn slightly in your seat, meeting eyes with the disgruntled middle schooler, “What’s your name?”

“Maxine.” Billy drawls, at the same time she snaps, “Max,”.

“Max?” You echo cautiously, and she snaps out of her glare at Billy to size you up. She seems relieved, almost taken aback that you’d listened to her instead of her stepbrother. She nods, and her lips curl in something that you’ll take as a smile, even if it’s barely perceptible.

“I think I’ve seen you around,” You muse, “You go to the arcade, right?”

“Yeah,” She nods, “You... you wear the green converse, right?”

“That’s me,” You laugh, raising your leg and lifting the hem of your pants to showcase the olive green sneakers.

“You know what shoes they wear?” Billy sneers from the front, glancing back at her through the mirror. 

Her face flushes as she ducks it down to stare at her lap, and you’re quick to swat gently at his shoulder, “Be nice!”

He looks at the hand you’d used bewilderedly, and Max bites back an amused smirk.

You’re nervous for a moment, afraid you’d cracked some ancient rift between the two, but Billy just clenches his jaw, shooting her another glare through the mirror and turning down a side street into a residential neighborhood.

Though he’s entered new territory, he doesn’t slow down. He’s going fast enough to pummel any unfortunate child playing in the street, and your stomach twists uneasily as he only speeds up.

“Billy,” Your voice is cautious, anxious even, “Can you... slow down? There’s too many kids here, it’s making me nervous.”

“I won’t hit anyone,” He assures you, though it does little to calm you, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe you- don’t!” You tense as a toddler veers too close to the street where he’s playing with a ball on his front lawn, your heart racing as he wobbles safely back towards his house, “Please, Billy?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response, and honestly, you think you’re lucky he doesn’t snap at you like he does Max, but he eases up on the gas, finally within the speed limit as he curves through neighborhoods in pursuit of his own.

He pulls into their driveway with ease, and it makes you question how often his parents are gone. Surely their cars would take precedence over his in terms of parking, and you worry about him and Max being left alone more often than not. You’re so caught up in pondering the stability of their home life that you run straight into Billy’s back as he wrestles with his keys, stumbling backwards and apologizing bashfully.

“Clumsy,” He labels you, but it sounds more like a nickname than it does an insult. A mere observation, not a crack.

Max is off to her room before you even step over the threshold, and ignores Billy’s shouts of, “Maxine, we need colored pencils!”

She slams her door in response, and his shoulders slump.

“Shitbird.” He mutters, and an involuntary laugh slips from your lips. He looks back at you with a sly grin, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over a chair.

“Inventive,” You bend down to unlace your shoes, but Billy waves you off, so you keep them on. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“We’ve got a whole list of ‘em,” He boasts, and you admire the rare mention of the two of them as a duo instead of opponents, “I think her favorite is dickwad.”

“Oh, that’s even better,” You chuckle, “I’ll have to use that.”

“She usually pairs it with another insult,” He speaks as though he’s describing the plating process of a budding young chef, “Something like insufferable or shit-for-brains really gives it an extra kick.”

You fall into a comfortable silence while he points you to his room and while the rest of the house you can see seems lifeless and sterile, his room is definitely his. Posters on the walls, laundry on the floor, a discarded shirt, a belt, and- boxers, that you only notice as he kicks them into the depths of his closet. You try not to think about them as he tosses his bag on his bed, prompting you to do the same. You rifle through your papers again, watching as he arms himself with a single pencil.

“We should plan out what we’re drawing first,” You propose, hesitant to sit on his bed before he tells you that’s where you’re working. It feels too personal, you’d almost rather sit on the floor.”

“Okay,” He nods, taking the plunge and sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, “So we’re drawing…”

“Mitosis,” You freeze, glancing up at him apprehensively through your lashes, “Have you been paying attention in class?”

“I’ve been trying to dump enough ashes onto the flowers outside the window to kill them,” His head jerks upwards to look at you instead of your bag as he drawls sarcastically, and the earring in his left ear dangles, shining in the light streaming in from the windows. You heave a sigh with raised eyebrows, ducking your head to continue searching through your bag.

“Here’s a diagram,” You offer up a recent class handout, one that you’re sure he’d used to spit his gum out in, “This isn’t the order the steps are in, though. So we have to reorder them, then draw them all and write about them.”

“There’s only four,” He reasons, “That won’t take too long.”

You neglect to break the news to him that you’re a perfectionist. 

“You start with prophase,” You point to the corresponding picture, “And I’ll do metaphase. Then whoever finishes first can divide the last two.”

He nods once in acknowledgement, “I’ll get colored pencils from Max later. She won’t stab me if I offer her pizza first.”

You can’t blame him for his apprehension towards the redhead. She’s definitely fiery, but you have a sneaking suspicion she’s equally as sweet. You suppose siblings are always at each other’s throats, and Billy and Max are no exception. You get to work sketching out your diagram, and after it's formed, without a ruler to make straight lines, you attempt your own freehand ones. They’re supposed to be arrows, pointing to each part of the drawing to label them, but they come out lopsided and shaky. 

Billy glances up from his sketch when eraser shavings fly over it, peering concernedly at you as you nearly rub a hole through the paper with your eraser.

“Jesus,” He frowns, looking at the array of gray shavings on his comforter, “Are you trying to bury us?”

“Sorry!” You groan, sweeping the shavings away into your palm and dropping them into the trash can that he’s got by his nightstand, “I can’t get these lines straight.”

“Uh,” Billy straightens from where he’d been slouched against the wall, lost in his drawing, “I don’t think I have a ruler..”

“I figured,” You rub your eraser clean of pencil lead, “It’s fine, I can just-”

“Here,” He cuts you off, lunging for a record sleeve that he’s got propped on a milk crate by the foot of his bed, “You can trace it with this.”

You freeze with the sleek, stiff sleeve in your hands.

“Are you sure?” You glance cautiously at him, ghosting your fingers over the edges, “I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Don't, then.” He snorts, “Just trace the edge, you won’t get pencil on it.”

You carefully line the pencil up with the side of the sleeve, peering around his room once before tracing the line you need, “Do you have a record player?”

“Not anymore,” He shakes his head, his curls bouncing, “It got- uh, broken when we moved.”

You hum sympathetically, “That sucks. Maybe you can find a cheap one somewhere, like a yard sale, or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” He glances up at you with a soft smile, but you don’t catch it, too immersed in your task. He takes the time to admire you curiously, his eyes tracing your features just like you do the arrow.

“There,” You breathe, handing the sleeve back to him once all of your lines have been drawn, “That’s perfect.”

“Mine’s done too,” He decides, tipping his folder so that you can see his final product, “That okay?”

“Looks good,” You nod, scanning the page for any possible mistakes, “That’s... A lot of detail. Wow.”

He chuckles, and you think it’s sheepishly, “Yeah. I draw fast, I guess.”

“I guess,” You parrot, “Okay, next?”

“Actually,” He slides the paper off of his lap, glancing at the clock on his wall, “It’s getting kind of late. If we want pizza delivery, we should call in now, that way it gets here before we get too hungry.”

“Oh!” You stiffen slightly, “Uh, I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t think I have money for pizza.”

“It’s fine,” He waves you off, “I got it. You’re probably the only reason I’m gonna pass this class anyways, I think I owe you more than two slices.”

“Bio’s hard,” You laugh lightly, “I think I’m doing worse in math, though.”

He groans, running a hand down his face, “Fucking math.”

“This unit is so confusing,” You gush, hearing the crunch of tires on gravel from somewhere outside, “I just can’t wrap my head around-”

“Quiet.” Billy demands, eyes wide.

“Uh- what?” You glance nervously at him. You’d started to let your guard down, to forget the rumors about Billy Hargrove, the basketball player with a whole lot of fire inside of him. You’d been comfortable on his bed, chatting about classes and drawing diagrams. But now, when he hears voices outside, he snaps.

“-parked in the damn driveway,” One grumbles, a man’s voice that makes Billy shoot out of his seat when it’s paired with heavy, thumping footsteps across the walkway.

Billy lunges for you, and you don’t have time to scream in shock before his hand, rough and large, slams itself over your mouth.

“Get in the closet,” He hisses, brow dipped in a ferocious frown, “Now!”

There’s no other way to describe how he moves you than manhandling. He grabs you tight by the arm with his free hand, dragging you up and off of the bed as you try fighting him on instinct. When you hear the front door open your brain catches up to you, and you rush to help his progress, not hinder it, so you stand from where you’d been limp in his arms and dart into the closet.

He’s barely able to slide the door shut on you before a series of knocks fall heavy on his door. They’re the type of knocks you’d only ever heard before in cop shows, the FBI banging on people’s doors ready to tackle them to the ground.

You’re petrified in the closet, squeezed between a series of shelves behind your back and the door pressed to your front. Your breathing is erratic, short, sharp intakes of breath warming your face as they hit the door in front of you and bounce right back.

“Yeah?” You hear Billy swing his door open, the hinges squeaking, “Oh, hi, dad.”

“Hi.” The same voice from before sounds, and it sends a shiver down your spine from how icy it is, “There’s a blue camaro parked in my spot. Any idea who’s that is?”

The question is sarcastic, of course, but your nose wrinkles at how unnecessary it is, not to mention condescending.”

“It’s-” Billy tries, but his dad cuts him off.

“It had better not be my son’s, whom I have told repeatedly not to park in the driveway. My driveway.”

“I’m sorry, dad.” Billy keeps his voice low, guilty, and you think it sounds earnest enough. Your breathing is calmer now, not normal but not panicked. Sure, it’ll be awkward listening to Billy get lectured by his dad, but you’d survive.

“The next time this happens,” Billy’s dad’s voice grows eerily venomous, “I will get your old baseball bat from our garage, and I will smash that car to bits, you understand? I don’t give a damn if you bought it, you’re parking it on my property and that means you’ll do it by my rules.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy recites, and your heart sinks at how impersonal their relationship seems. You’d had your concerns from the beginning, because everything about Billy’s home life seemed to indicate that it wasn’t the most conventional, but you pity the boy for his dad’s lack of human decency.

“Move it. And where’s Maxine?”

“She’s in her room,” Billy supplies readily, “She’s doing homework. And I was just about to order us pizza.”

You breathe easier knowing it’s over. That the danger has passed, that you’ll be out of the stuffy closet soon. But only silence ensues, there’s no acknowledgement from Billy’s dad. Not until-

“What?”

“There’s no spaghetti left,” Billy tries reasoning, “We finished it all last night. I just thought that pizza was-”

“Son,” Billy’s dad spits, “It is 6:30. That is well past our family’s dinnertime. And you haven’t fed your sister?”

“I was about to grab the phone, dad! To call the pizza place, and order so that they wouldn’t be later than seven. I know it’s later than we usually eat, I just thought that she’d tell me if she was getting hungry! And she hasn’t,” Billy huffs, “She’s been quiet since we got home from school.”

“You thought she’d tell you? Billy, it’s not her responsibility to run this household when we’re away, it’s yours. I’ve told you that time and time again. And she’s been quiet since you got her home from school? How do you know she’s even in her room? Do you? Have you checked on her?”

“No, dad,” Billy argues, “I haven’t checked on her. I’ve been doing my own homework, and you’re the one that left, so I don’t know why it’s my fault that-!”

You thought things were fine. Sure, it was an argument, but that’s all it was. Until it wasn’t. Until the door in front of you shakes, nearly snaps, as a colossal thud rattles its frame. You’re not sure how you managed to stay quiet, the door warping in its hinges and pressing tight against your front. You slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your newly-frantic breathing, eyes shut tight as tears bead in their corners.

“How dare you,” You hear that voice, the rough, hateful voice of Billy’s dad, only inches away from you. But he’s speaking to you, not away from you, and you come to the terrible realization that he’s slammed Billy into the closet door. You’d managed to keep up hope, imagining his stereo thrown across the room towards your location, but there’s no denying now that it’s Billy’s weight against your front, only a flimsy closet door between you.

“How dare you insinuate that this is my fault? How dare you tell me that I can’t leave my own home, and how dare you shirk your responsibilities to your sister. As if you’re not a grown man,” Billy’s dad spits, “You are more than capable of looking after a 13-year-old girl. You just choose not to, and I don’t know how else to get it through your head, Billy! This is your family, she is your sister, and when we are gone, you are her parent! She needs food, she needs attention, she needs care, she’s not a goldfish. Why don’t you care about her, Billy? Why do you keep acting like you are not a part of this family?”

There’s a moment of silence where Billy tries thinking of something to say. You use it to answer the question for yourself: because he isn’t. This isn’t a family, you realize, your chest still compressed by Billy’s weight, this is a broken home. The three of them, Billy’s dad, his stepmom, and his stepsister, they’re a family, but Billy isn’t. Not with the way they treat him, not with the things they expect of him. It’s no wonder he doesn’t like his family, because they really aren’t that.

It’s too late. Billy takes too long to answer (which you think is unfair with such a loaded question), and your stomach churns as you hear a sharp smack. You’re unfortunately certain that it hasn’t been Billy’s father on the receiving end, but your biology partner himself.

Thankfully, Billy’s dad doesn’t hear your gasp. Or maybe he does, but he thinks it’s Billy’s. Nevertheless, you know Billy hears it, and you hope that he takes some comfort in the fact that you’re still there, that you’re not selling him out and revealing yourself to get yourself out.

“You are her brother.” Billy’s dad breaks the silence, and you try matching your haggard breathing to Billy’s so that he doesn’t hear you, “You are responsible for her. And if you disobey me again, you will be punished. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” Billy mumbles, and you hate how thick his voice sounds in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Billy’s dad drawls, and you have the sudden urge to leap from the closet and punch him in the teeth, “I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“Yes.” Billy repeats, voice strong this time, “Sir.”

“Move your fucking car.” Billy’s dad spits, leaving him with another shove to Billy’s shoulders that pushes you even further back into the shelves. Your back is going to ache tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not while Billy stands petrified against his closet door.

The heavy footsteps recede, and there’s two pairs, a much lighter one there now, too. But Billy hasn’t moved, and you come to the sickening realization that Billy’s stepmom had been lingering in the doorway the entire time. Or just outside it. You must not have heard her light footfalls when they were so consumed by her husband’s earth-shaking ones. She had to have known what Billy’s dad was doing to him, why wouldn’t she stop him? Why wouldn’t she say anything?

You don’t have time to prepare for the closet door flying open, and for a split second, you’re afraid it’s Billy’s dad. But it’s not, it’s Billy, and he meets your eye for only a split second. It’s enough for him to notice the withheld tears in your eyes, and for you to notice his own. He gulps, swallowing a lump in his throat, and his eyes drop to the floor. There’s a glaring red mark on his cheek, one that looks like it stings.

“Climb out the window,” He mumbles, gruff and secretive, “Take your bag, it’s under my bed. Wait for me down the road, I’ll drive you home.”

You don’t have it in you to argue with him, not when he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. You creep past the open door carefully, even though the footsteps have receded, both pairs, down the hallway and into a different room. You don’t have a difficult time climbing out the window, and you shoulder your backpack after your feet are firmly on the ground. 

Billy shuts his window behind you, and you’re alone now, in the darkness.

The side of their house is somewhat overgrown, twigs and leaves snapping beneath your shoes as you trek off-property. You follow the path of the street until you’ve passed other houses, and don’t seem to be lingering near theirs. Then the roar of Billy’s car travels your way, and his headlights bathe your stiff form.

He’s gripping the wheel tightly as you open the door, and he doesn’t look at you as you get in. It’s awkward, tense, and you have to sit on your hands to stop yourself from fidgeting with them and setting him off.

The drive is quiet; he’s shut off his radio. He drives fast, and this time you don’t have the heart to stop him. You’re still worried, but you think you’ve figured out why he drives fast, and you’re not sure you blame him for it anymore. He’s controlling what he can, because he can’t control most things.

You’re only five minutes out from his place when you first speak up, clearing your throat experimentally beforehand, “Do you... wanna talk about it?”

You glance over at him subtly, watching his knuckles turn white on the wheel. 

“No.”

“Okay,” You breathe, and bite your tongue to stop from speaking for the rest of the ride.

He pulls into your driveway with a rough turn, and you’re sure he only knows which house is yours because he’d seen you getting the mail two weeks ago while he was cruising through your neighborhood. On a different occasion, you’d commend him for his memory, but it seems inappropriate now.

You unbuckle your seatbelt without prompting, careful not to annoy him. But you can’t stop yourself, before you shut the door you peer down at him. Of course, he doesn’t look at you.

“Billy,” You start, carefully, cautiously, “You don’t have to talk to me about it. Or- or anyone. But if you ever need a place to stay, a safe place for the night… you can come here.”

You think he’s going to yank the door shut himself and speed off. And you wouldn’t blame him, either. But to your surprise, his eyes shift, no longer on the road ahead but on you. He glances at you through the mirror, still too timid to meet your eyes unobscured, but his gaze shatters you. It’s broken itself, and inside of his pretty blue irises is a child screaming for help. Pain pools in his pupils and threatens to drip down his cheeks in tears you wish you could wipe away before they even start flowing. 

“I mean it,” You promise, “Anytime.”

He holds your gaze, lips parting to whisper shakily, “Thank you.”

You leave him with a soft smile, throwing your bag over your shoulder lightly. You shut the door and watch him leave, much slower and more controlled than when he’d peeled in. When he’s completely out of sight you turn with a sigh, trekking up your front steps and fumbling for your keys. It takes you a minute to get in the door because of how distracted you are, and in your frustration you slump against the wood, remembering the feeling of Billy’s closet door nearly choking you.

You’re shaken up, you can’t imagine how Billy feels. And there’s no telling how often his dad does this, after all, it barely took anything to set him off. You hope he’ll be okay for the night, and for his own safety you wish he’d stayed with you. You wish he’d parked his car on your driveway, without fear of anyone smashing it, and settled on your couch for the night. But he didn’t, and when you crawl into your bed that night, you hope he’s safe in his own.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

Can't wait to see what's next! Loving your writing <3<3

BASIC BIOLOGY - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART TWO) | PART ONE

word count: 7396 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: you're paired with billy for a biology project. you only visit his house once, but it's enough for you to understand why he doesn't want you to come over again. when he starts showing up more and more in your life, you realize that it's basic biology: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

Contents: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of injuries, angst, fluff, happy ending

A/N: i hope you like this chapter! Billy and his love starvation seem like they’d latch onto the first real love they get, and I tried to establish that here. Please let me know what you think! 💞

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

You don’t expect to see Billy again for a while. Even though he’d thanked you, sincerely, awestruck, you hadn’t suffered through the tense car ride for nothing. He clearly didn’t want to talk to you about it, and he assumes you’ll pry.

You don’t really blame him, either. Because you want to pry. You want to beg for information, plead with him to give you a rundown of what hurts and where, so that you can fix it all. And then you want to pry about any particular allergies of his father’s, so that you can serve him shellfish pasta and make his death look like an accident.

It turns out, though, that you see him the very next day.

You don’t have your own car, nor can you even drive. You’re scared of it, of the thought of that much mechanical power granted to a simple human being, and you’d much rather walk or take the bus anyways. Your bike has a flat tire, or you’d be using it to ride back from the store.

All you’d picked up was a bottle of coke and a pack of gum - juicy fruit. The coke sweats a stain through the pocket of your jeans, but it’s secure, and not grating callouses against your fingertips with its puckered cap. All you hear is the thundering roar of cars speeding down the street next to you, your feet slamming against the pavement as you power walk home.

You’re only ten minutes out, in the final stretch, when you hear a particularly loud engine. It’s gotta be from a muscle car, and you wait for it to pass so that you can look without being obvious. But it doesn’t pass, the engine revs and then chugs once more, slowing to a stop right beside you.

You’re not in the practice of looking over at cars that stop next to you on the road, something eerie about the situation. But when you hear a newly-familiar voice say your name, you stop in your tracks.

“Y/N,” Billy calls, leaning over the empty passenger’s seat to brace his hand on the open window, “Hey, you need a ride?”

His face is red. It’s subtle, and you think that maybe there’s- is that makeup over it? Either way, you know there’s a mark, and you know why there’s a mark.

“Uh,” You stammer, glancing ahead at the sidewalk, “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Where are you going?” He raises an eyebrow, “Aren’t you hot?”

“A little,” You become hyper aware of the sweat sticking to your forehead, the stickiness of your socks against your feet, “It’s fine, though. It’s only, like, ten minutes home.”

“Just get in,” He squints up at you, the sun in his eyes, “I’m heading that way anyways.”

“Okay..” You comply, ducking down to step off of the curb and fit yourself into his camaro, “Are you sure it’s not a problem?”

“Not at all,” He straightens up from where he’d been leaning out the window so that you can sit down, but he braces his hand on the back of your headrest. He uses it as leverage to look behind him to make sure he’s not pulling out into traffic, and when it’s safe, he peels away from the curb in what you now know is typical Billy fashion. Tires squealing, engine revving, confidence in his eyes.

“So,” You hum, digging the coke bottle out of your pocket so that you don’t smash it, “Why are you gonna be over by my place?”

“Oh,” he laughs, shaking his head, “I’m not. I just lied, knew you wouldn’t get in unless I said that.”

You let out an incredulous laugh, “Billy! You lied!”

“And,” He grins, nodding and readjusting his hands on the wheel as he turns you around a corner, “It worked, didn’t it? And now you’ve got a ride.”

“Thank you, Billy,” At your words you remember his own from the night prior, stiffening slightly in your seat, “Um, are you.. okay? Last night was.. Intense.”

“Yeah,” He takes a moment to answer, but when he does his voice is stronger than it was last night. He keeps himself preoccupied with ducking slightly to check his blind spot, “It’s nothing. I’m, uh- I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re okay, though.” You mumble, “Does it hurt?”

“Seriously,” He shakes his head, his curls flying around his shoulders, “Doesn’t matter. Just.. forget about it, okay?”

“Billy,” You gush, wanting so badly to respect his wishes for the sake of not starting an argument. But how were you supposed to forget possibly the scariest experience of your life?

“I’m not going to go around town blabbing,” You swear, “But don’t you think we should tell someone?”

“No,” He insists, voice sharp, “Because if he doesn’t get hauled in, then I get my ass beat, maybe even killed. And if he does get hauled in, then I’m the man of the house. And my summer job barely pays for the gas money it takes to get there, and Max is too young to work, and Susan probably doesn’t even want me, so then I’d be out on my ass, and- just.. No. It wouldn’t work.”

He’s heated now, cheeks flushed and eyes wild. His chest heaves with the breaths he wasn’t taking when he was rambling, and you let him catch up before you talk again.

“Okay,” You take care to keep your voice calm and soothing, “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. I won’t tell anyone, Billy, not if you don’t want me to. But.. but something has to give, y’know? I meant what I said last night,” You fiddle with the ridges on the cap of your coke bottle, “Come over anytime.”

He meets your eye in the rear view mirror, and no words are needed. There’s a tenderness in your eyes that’s reflected in his own, and beneath the cockiness that he slathers over himself, you see sincerity peeking through. He nods and it’s grateful, hopeful, even.

“You want a burger?” He sniffs, scrunching his nose and changing the subject. His hands are prying at the wheel, turning the car down a road before you can respond, but you’ve got leftover cash from the convenience store, so you nod.

“Sure,” You nod, “Uh, I guess I don’t owe you pizza money anymore.”

“No,” You’re glad that he takes it as a joke, instead of a painful reminder of the night before, “Max should be the one paying me, Jesus, I mean she ate half the box.”

“She’s a growing girl,” You scold him, “She needs her nutrients.”

“Oh, yeah, melted cheese and greasy pepperoni, real nutritious.” He scoffs, but there’s a smile on his face, “What’s your order, Doctor Nutrient?”

You’re tempted to order a salad just to fuck with him. But you don’t, you let out a breathy laugh and recite your burger preference. He nods, pulling up to the window of the only drive-thru fast food restaurant in town.

Part of you is that glad that you don’t go inside, and part of you is crushed.

On one hand, you’re sweaty from walking, and you probably don’t look your best because of it. You don’t feel like being in the public eye right now, you feel like curling up on your couch and relaxing for the rest of the day. 

But on the other hand, what is Billy feeling? Part of you, deep inside, a horrid little piece that wants to make you sad, tells you that he’s not going to go into a burger place with you because he’s embarrassed to be seen with you. That you do look sweaty and gross, and that he’s not going to risk his reputation for some girl in his biology class. You thought you’d had a sort of breakthrough with him, unlocked some part of him that no one else had, because of those minutes stuck hiding in his closet. You’d thought you were maybe even friends, not just partners for class.

But he orders and pays for a meal to-go, and you’re silent as his wheels screech against the asphalt as he pulls into a parking space.

“Here,” He hands you the tray that they’d given you, spreading a meager, flimsy napkin over his lap in its absence, “You take that, and just keep my fries in there while I eat this.”

“We can share it,” You offer, scrambling to balance the tray on the divider between your seats, but he pushes it back into your lap with a shake of his head and a large, strong hand, “No, no, don’t worry about it. One of us should have an easy lunch.”

“Thanks,” You murmur, choosing to stuff your mouth with burger instead of voice any of your internal monologue out loud. You eat in silence for a few bites, blaming it on your mouthful of food instead of your awkward reservations. But he glances over to get a fry, and sees you staring out the windshield, lost in space.

“Is yours drugged or something?” He teases, elbowing you gently in the side, “You’re zoning out, hard.”

“Oh,” You take a deep breath, chewing the last of your burger and swallowing it, picking at your fries, “No, I think I’m just tired from walking.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s good I picked you up, then. Where were you even walking?”

“Corner store,” You mumble around a mouthful of burger, “I wanted a coke. Oh,” You remember, sticking a hopefully-clean hand into your pocket to retrieve your cash, “Here, for the burger.”

“‘S fine,” He waves you off, “It was, like, two bucks. Don’t sweat it.”

“Billy,” You huff, “Just let me pay you back!”

“No,” He drawls, sipping from his fountain drink, “Stop arguing, or I’ll kick you out of the car.”

You fall silent, neglecting to remind him that you weren’t in his car to begin with.

“So,” His eyes flash over the stereo, and he breaks the momentary lull in conversation, “What kind of music are you into?”

“Anything, really,” You shrug, “I like it all.”

“Even pop?” His nose wrinkles, and he stares accusatorily at you from his seat.

“Pop’s fine,” You nod, “Classical is only nice when I’m trying to study.”

“Classi- Like, piano and shit? Jesus,” He laughs incredulously, “Are you ninety?”

“Hey,” Your mouth falls open, and you fall easily into teasing banter with him, “Classical music is not for old people! It’s for people who need music on to study but get distracted by lyrics.”

“Metal’s good for that, too,” He reaches across the center divider to snatch a fry from the tray, “It’s, like, 90% guitar, and half the lyrics don’t even make sense, anyways. Nothing to pay attention to.”

“I’m not surprised you like metal,” You hum, “Did a Mötley Crüe tape come with this car?”

“No,” He insists, and you catch the flash of his grin from the side of your eye, “I bought it on the way back from the dealership.”

He doesn’t want to drown out your giggles with music, so he waits until you take another bite to pop a tape in. 

“That’s real music,” He boasts as the sound blares to life, “None of that violin shit.”

“I like metal,” You promise him, foot tempted to tap to the beat of the drums, “It’s just not all I listen to.”

“Yeah, well it’s gonna be all you listen to in here,” He assures you, “I’m gonna turn you into a diehard.”

“You have all of, what, twenty minutes?” You laugh, “Billy, how often do you think I’m gonna be in your car?”

“Whenever you want,” He shrugs, “You think I’m gonna let you haul your ass around town without a car?”

“Billy,” You frown, swallowing roughly to stare suspiciously at him, “What are you talking about? You barely even know me, why are you acting like my chauffeur all of a sudden?”

“Barely even know you-” He scoffs, jamming a fry into the ketchup that’s pooled on your tray, “We’re friends, dumbass. That’s how friendship works, right? We do shit for each other?”

Your heart thuds to your stomach. Friends? An hour ago you wouldn’t have even called Billy Hargrove your acquaintance. Sure, you knew each other. Hell, you probably knew more about him than anyone else in school. But not because he told you, because you found out. It was an accident, a fluke, a mistake. He didn’t tell you on purpose, so it didn’t mean you were close. But maybe you were, maybe his borderline kidnapping of you was because he cared, because he liked you.

“Yeah,” You decide, “Yeah, we’re friends. And that’s what friends do. I just.. I can’t offer you much, can I? I mean, shit, you won’t even let me give you a $5 for lunch.”

His eyes narrow, and you’re nervous you said something wrong. He huffs out a sigh, jaw tightening, “Jesus, Y/N, are you gonna make me spell it out?”

“What?”

“You offered me a place to stay,” He mumbles, glaring daggers at his keys in the ignition, “That’s.. A lot, okay? And I appreciate it.” He says it almost angrily, and if you weren’t so taken aback, you might have laughed.

“So I don’t mind dumping you where you need to be. Or spotting you for lunch.”

“Thank you,” You echo his sentiment from last night, hoping that even though they’re about a burger and not a home, they’re just as sincere, “Thanks, Billy.”

“Don’t mention it,” He grumbles, stuffing the rest of his burger into his mouth so that he doesn’t have to speak.

Being friends with Billy Hargrove is interesting. He’s brash, abrasive, but he cares in his own way, you find out, when he stops hard at a red light and throws his arm out over your chest.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, gruff and stiff, “You okay?”

“Fine,” You nod, a little breathless from how the seat belt had rubbed against your skin, “You can pull over here, if you want. I can run around the back, it’s unlocked already.”

“I’m not dropping you off at the curb,” He scoffs, “I think I can manage your driveway.”

“Fine,” You tease, “I was just trying to make it easier for you.”

A small smile curves over his lips at your tone, and you know he’s not upset. You’re starting to realize that being friends with Billy is easy, as soon as you accept that he can be harsh. He’s not the type of friend to gush about feelings, you don’t think, preferring to quip back and forth, and you can handle that.

He pulls into your driveway, and spots a familiar red car parked three houses down.

“You’re neighbors with Harrington?” His eyes shade over with something that can’t be good, considering his well-known feelings towards the other boy.

“No,” You shake your head, “No, that’s his friend’s house. He just drives him around sometimes, I think. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

You shoot him a grin as your head rests against the headrest of your seat, and he can’t argue with that. He rolls his eyes despite the growing grin on his lips, and he reaches over to shove you.

“Get out of my car,” He groans, “And- here,” He tears a shred of napkin off of the leftover stash from lunch, digging for a pen to scrawl his number, “Call me whenever you need a ride. Or good music to listen to.”

“I’m gonna go study to Chopin,” You leer at him from your front steps, and he lunges, reaching out the driver’s side window to reach for you. You shriek, jumping out of the way before he can grab you, and it pulls a long, hearty laugh from his chest.

“Take it,” He reaches into his glove compartment to pull out a tape, red-and-black designs etched over the front, “I’m not driving away until I hear it blasting from your window,”

“My parents are home,” You gush, fingers curling around the plastic case, “I can’t!”

“Headphones, then,” He insists, eyes alight with amusement, “I’m expecting you to know the words the next time I see you.”

It’s a hefty promise to make, but you do so with a smile on your face.

You don’t get much studying done amongst Metallica. It’s hard to focus on finishing your biology project when you recognize a song you’d heard earlier in Billy’s car, and you hum the familiar tune, thinking of the way he’d tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the drums.

You think you’ve figured him out. He’s vibrant when he knows he’s alone, when he knows he’s safe. He’d panicked hearing that car door, those voices outside. He’d been rough, jagged, hurtful. But in his element, flying down the road with music blaring from his speakers, he’d been happy. All he needs is a safe place, and you’re glad he has one, even if it isn’t his home.

Biology is easy to finish, because you only have to cover half of the slack from being sent home early last night. Billy knows which of the last two drawings to complete, and you tuck your finished ones away in your folder, pulling out a sheet of math work to tackle next. Unfortunately, it’s less simple.

Dinner comes and goes, and you’re still working by the time the sky bleeds black. You’d been using the light from the window to aid you in your homework, so when it finally covers you in enough shadow to make you squint, you give up and make for your light switch.

It flicks on with a click, and when you whirl around to settle back on your bed, there’s a face in your window. You scream, backing yourself up against the door in the split second before you recognize the features.

Billy is staring at you from the window, hand up to the glass. You hear commotion from downstairs, a quick shout of ‘Are you okay up there?’ and thundering feet towards the hallway.

“I’m fine!” You shout at the gap in the door, praying no one comes to investigate, “I’m fine, I thought I saw a spider.”

You stand there, petrified, staring at him as you wait for your parents to go away. The commotion dies down in seconds, but they feel like hours as they tick away, leaving Billy pressed to your window. When you hear the soft wheeze of a couch cushion, then the creak of bedsprings, accounting for them both, you relax, breathe out a sigh and step forwards.

Even through the glass, you can tell something is wrong. Billy’s right eye is starting to shut, and you don’t think he’s doing it on purpose. It looks swollen, and there’s a purple hue blooming over it.

You work on unlatching the window, and in doing so you press your hand flat against the glass. It lays inches north of his own print, and he shifts his hand up to meet yours on the other side of the window. It’s touching, but you don't’ have time to evaluate it when your fingers snap the latch out of place.

“Billy,” You breathe, gripping his forearm to offer him leverage while he hauls himself up and over your windowsill, “Are you okay?”

He lands on the floor in a heap, and your heart sinks.

“No.” He groans, voice soft and wheezy. When he moves he rolls to clutch his stomach, and the only solace you find is that there’s no bloodstain on his t-shirt.

“I ran,” He groans, keeping his voice just quiet enough to be inaudible from another room, “I- I didn’t have time to get in my car, I just-”

“Okay,” You watch his chest heave with the effort of speaking, bracing a hand on it gently, to stop him, “Okay, save your energy. I’m going to go get you water, and an ice pack. Then I’ll fix your face.”

He manages a weak nod, then a raspy, ‘Okay.’

You slip into the kitchen with only a sheepish grin towards the couch at your spider cover-up. Luckily for you, you’re jumpy around bugs, so it doesn’t look out of the ordinary.

You tuck the ice-pack into your pocket, and you’re wearing such a baggy sweatshirt that it’s covered up. The glass of water isn’t suspicious on its own, and you make it back to your room without any problems.

Billy has hauled himself up to sit against your bed, head tipped against the mattress. There’s still no blood, but his face is tilted towards the light now, and you see copious amounts of bruising that definitely hadn’t been there before.

“Jesus,” You breathe, reaching for his cheek. He tenses as your hand approaches, and you pull back before you can reach him. You stand there, arm outstretched, waiting. Your fingers are only inches from his face, a blotchy purple mark over his eye that spreads down his cheek like poison. You wait, for a sign, a sound, anything to let you know that it’s okay to touch him, and what you get is almost more shocking than the sight of him.

He tilts his head to the side, nudging his cheek into your hand.

“You can touch,” He croaks, breath short and hot against your palm, “I don’t bite.”

If you’ve learned anything about Billy in the past 24 hours, it’s that he doesn’t like the mushy stuff. So instead of gushing, instead of promising him that he’s safe now, that his father can’t hurt him, you say it with your touch, and shift your tone to teasing.

“Oh yeah?” You kneel beside him, brushing your thumb against the underside of his lip and smearing away wet blood there, “Melissa MacDonald says you do.”

He laughs, a short, wheezing sound, and his cheek presses further into your palm as it apples with his smile,  “Yeah? Well, she asked me to.”

”Freaky girl,” You hum, eyes glued to his lip. You use the towel that you’ve wrapped around the ice pack, bunching a corner of it up and wiping it over the split skin. It morphs into a grimace when you touch it and he hisses, hand reaching up to grip your side hard.

“Sorry,” You breathe, your exhale fanning over his face, “Sorry, just- give me a second.”

When you’ve managed to get the blood off of his lip you shift your focus to his abdomen, and suddenly realize what you’re about to ask is very suggestive.

“Okay, um.. What happened to your stomach?”

“He kicked me,” Billy groans, “Boots on and all.”

“Okay,” You see a dark purple bruise spreading over his stomach from where his shirt has ridden up, and you toy with the edge of the ice pack, “Can I-? I need to see it..”

“Strip me, baby,” He chuckles weakly, “You can take it off.”

It’s a button-up, once tucked in and now rumpled from the commotion. The top buttons are undone, so it’s not hard to slip the last two out, spreading each side apart to showcase a truly horrific amalgamation of cuts and bruises.

“Ok-ay,” You hum, eyes wide in terror, “Um, this is.. A lot. Should we go to the hospital?”

“No!” His eyes flash with fear, and he grabs your wrist, “No hospitals.”

“”But-”

“But I can’t tell anyone,” He reminds you, gaze now sad and defeated, “No hospitals.”

All you can manage is a nod, tears gathering in your eyes as you stare down at his bare torso.

“Like what you see?” He drawls, and you glance up to see his lip bleeding again from how he’d smirked and torn the cut open.

“Not at all,” You admit sheepishly, reaching a hand up to press and hold the towel there, “Billy, this looks like you escaped a warzone.”

“I did,” He mumbles around the towel, “He’s the enemy.”

“What did you even do?” You ask, prodding gently at a patch of skin and apologizing profusely when his stomach tenses because of it.

“Someone.. One of our stupid neighbors,” He recalls, “Saw you last night. Said my old man must be proud I've got girls sneaking out of my window at night.”

“And… he wasn’t proud.” You grimace, pressing the ice pack to the largest bruise. It spans over most of his lower stomach, and it looks more painful than you can imagine.

“No,” Billy groans, writhing against your bed, “He was not. Didn’t even wait to get inside,” He squeezes his eyes shut, which you’re sure hurts his right one, “Just grabbed my arm and smacked me right there on the driveway. No one cared. The neighbor, he- he laughed. Thought it was all some big joke, I guess. When we got inside he pushed me over in the doorway and pummeled me. He kicked my stomach, and he-” Billy cuts himself off with a hiss of pain when you start dabbing at a scrape on his chest, “Stomped on my face. He used a fucking fireplace poker, that’s the gashes.”

“You can’t go back,” You cry, barely withholding yourself from a long, loud sob, “Please, Billy, you can’t go back there. He’ll kill you!”

“No, he won’t.” Billy heaves, shaking his head, “He wants to, I’m sure. But he knows he can’t hurt me too bad, or people’ll notice. This was a mistake, he’s gonna be more careful from now on. He might be a monster, but he’s smart.”

“But- but what if this happens again, Billy? He gets angry, real angry, and he lashes out, and he uses a fireplace poker-!” Your chest heaves with sobs that you’re barely able to withhold, tears streaming down your cheeks and dripping onto his chest.

“Hey,” He shushes you, a hand over your mouth, then uses the other to wipe your tears away, “Hey! Don’t think about that,” he scolds, but you’re sure it’s meant to sound reassuring, “He’s probably freaked right now. He thinks I’m ratting him out to the cops, or something. So when I come back, he’ll be more careful. He won’t be sorry, but I don’t care about sorry anymore, I know he won’t ever be. He won’t kill me,” Billy promises you, finally dropping the hand that’s covering your mouth, “He can’t afford a body on his hands.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, blink away the tears in your eyes, and nod. He seems satisfied at your silence, watching with droopy eyes as you clean off his chest.

“I’m gonna get bandages,” You murmur, leaving the ice pack on his stomach and padding to the door, “Move it if you need to, okay?”

He manages a weak nod in return, and you make sure to shut the door behind you when you leave.

Gathering adequate medical supplies isn’t the problem, concealing them is. You have to fumble your way through tucking bandages and gauze under your shirt, and the bottle of antiseptic doesn’t fit anywhere but in your hands. You keep it tucked against your side when you rush to your room, though, and you hope no one notices.

Billy doesn’t even ask what you’re doing when you press a wet cotton ball to his injuries, and you shudder to think of all the times he’s had to patch himself up. Does he sit in his room against his own bed, drink in hand? Does he stand in the shower, soap cleaning out his wounds? Does he sneak to the freezer, pressing frozen peas to his eyes?

You sniffle, and BIlly’s thumb rubs under your nose.

You frown, ‘Gross,’ And he chuckles weakly.

“I’m covered in blood, sweat, and-” He glances down at the droplets on his chest, “Tears. You think snot crosses a line?”

“My snot does,” You grumble, laying a bandage over a scrape on his chest and biting the inside of your cheek in concentration.

“Fine,” He huffs, smearing his thumb over your cheek, “Have it back.”

“Billy-!” You gasp, hand flying off of his chest and rubbing furiously at your cheek, “Gross!”

You’d be more upset but he laughs, really, truly, genuinely, and you think that maybe you can live with it.

“Snotface,” He cracks, and if you think for a second too long about the heartfelt lilt to his voice, it sounds like a term of endearment.

It’s hard to maneuver him in order to wrap his more serious injuries in gauze, but with a little cooperation, he’s wrapped like a mummy. It’s probably a sloppy nurse job, but you’re all he’s got, and you won’t give up on him because things are hard.

It’s his face that you have the real trouble with. You squint as you scan his features, looking at bumps and bruises and scrapes and trying to assess how deep they are. Your fingers turn his face this way and that, prodding, prying, pushing, pulling, until you decide that the light from above isn’t enough to see his smaller injuries.

“I need to move you,” You speak softly, “Up onto the bed. Can you do that?”

“Help me,” He bargains, and you’re happy to lift him to his feet.

He slumps against you while upright, but it’s not long before you can push him back onto your bed. He practically melts against the mattress, letting out a guttural sigh that’s almost too loud.

With a flick of your bedside lamp he’s bathed in a soft yellow glow, face now illuminated for all its abrasions to be seen.

His split lip is the least of it, you recognize with a sinking feeling.

Leaning over his face is awkward,and it hurts him when you turn his head. You suppose his neck is sore too, and it leaves you at a standstill.

“I can’t see that side of your face,” You huff, “Could you- I mean, it hurts really bad to turn your head?”

“Sorry,” He grimaces, testing the movement out again, “Yeah. Just- sit on the bed.”

“There’s no room,” You protest weakly, his broad form filling out your twin bed, “I’ll have to turn you around, we’ll put your feet at the headboard and your head down below, but that’ll take a lot of energy, so we should just-”

“Stop talking,” He pleads, eyes heavy, “Just- get on the bed, Y/N.”

“There’s no room!” You insist once more, and he groans, sitting himself upright despite your protests.

His arm slings around your waist, surprisingly strong for the state of the rest of his body. You scramble to fight his embrace but he hauls you up and onto the mattress, your knees digging into his thigh.

“Sit on my stomach,” He instructs you, then remembers it’s bandaged, “Or- or my waist. Just- sit down.”

It feels wrong. A boy in your bed, your legs over his waist, your hand on his chest as you lean over his face. You’re careful not to press anywhere that hurts, and you dab carefully at a cut near his eye.

“I think this earns you the title of best friend,” He mumbles, his breath hitting your face and warming your nose.

“Oh, yeah? Who was my competition?” You bite your lip to stop from grinning, shifting your waist against his own so that you can reach higher on his face.

“I dunno.” He’d shrug if he wasn’t lying down, “My car, maybe? There’s a cat that hangs out behind our house.”

“I’m not as cute as a cat,” You hum absentmindedly, picturing poor Billy with a car for a best friend, “I think it’s got me beat.”

“I dunno,” Billy murmurs, reaching up to thumb at the space between your brows. It knocks your concentrated frown loose, and he chuckles at your dazed expression as you peer down at him, “I’ll call it a tie to keep the peace.”

You busy yourself putting a bandaid over the bridge of his nose so that you don’t have to look into his eyes. You’re worried about what you’ll find there, if it’ll be the scared little boy you’d seen in them last night, or a charming young man. You’re not sure how to handle either, but you smooth the sticky patches of the bandaid out over his cheeks to try and aid the former.

“Done,” You whisper, and brace your hands on his face.

“Thank you,” He hums, sincere and sweet, “Really, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” You promise, “But for your sake I hope you don’t have to come over here like this again.”

“Me too,” He laughs, a short, breathy sound, “So.. uh, you got a car?”

“No,” You shake your head, “That’s why I was walking earlier.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” He cringes, hoisting himself up onto his elbows, “I’ll have to walk back.”

“Not now!” You push a hand against his chest, gently landing him on his back again, “You- you can’t! You need rest,” You reason with him, “Please, Billy, just stay here tonight.”

“Usually the girls kick me out when their parents get home,” He jokes, his tongue poking out to run over his lips, which you’re sure are sore from the cut. You giggle breathlessly, only then realizing that you’re still straddling him.

“Uh-” You rush to slide off of his hips, landing with a thump on the floor, “Sorry. I’ll go… um, do you need a change of clothes?”

“If you’ve got something,” He tilts his head up to watch as you fumble through your closet, “If nothing fits it’s fine.”

Luckily, you find a pair of sweatpants that are cinched with a tie, as well as a particularly average sweatshirt he’ll fit into. You step out of the room so that he can change, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to need any help. You use the time to change your own clothes, and when you emerge from the bathroom, you push your bedroom door open to find him on your mattress again.

“Bed’s comfy,” He marvels, turned onto his side. He’s pressed against the wall, staring at you where you’re frozen in the doorway.

“It is,” You nod, “Enjoy it.”

“You, too.” He prompts, patting the sheets, “Get up here, Y/N.”

“No, I-”

“You just stuck your fingers in my bloody cuts,” He groans, scooting even further back against the wall with a strangled groan, “I’m not making you sleep on the fucking floor.”

Logically, you know you should argue. He’s proclaimed you as his best friend but you’ve really only known him for a day. But he’s made up his mind, closing his eyes so that he can’t even see you disagreeing. His arms are crossed, and his face is set in a stubborn frown, brows tugged together beneath a bandage on his forehead.

Though his eyes are screwed shut, he pops them open when he feels the mattress dip beside him. His frown morphs quick and easy into a grin, his arm slinging around your waist to tug you closer from where you’re practically sliding off of the bed.

“I told you,” He drawls, “I don’t bite.”

“I’m not worried about you biting, Billy.” You mumble, stiff where he’s holding you. He notices, grin dimming as he lifts his hand away.

He looks almost annoyed, “So? What is it? Are you an insomniac, or something?”

“No, Billy,” you frown, biting the inside of your cheek, “I’m not an insomniac, I’m worried. Are you okay? I’m not a nurse. And- and I’m not tired, either,” You spring out of bed, standing beside it instead of laying with him, “I’m not going to sleep.”

He lays there staring, eyes hardening over from where they’d cracked open to ooze happiness. You watch it happen, watch him change until he’s the boy you know from school, deep, cutting glares and harsh movements.

“Fine,” He huffs, fighting to keep his face straight as he presses himself up off of the mattress with his palms, “I’m gonna go. Clearly- just.. Bye.”

“No, Billy..” You rush to stop him from reaching the window but he sticks out an arm, shoving you away with the side of it. He keeps his hands off of you, and you’re grateful, but it still sends you stumbling slightly.

He hears the sound of your feet thumping clumsily. He tenses up for a moment, shoulders drawn closer to his ears and legs locking. But he feels your hand against his back, soft and slow and smooth, and with each brush of your fingers there a muscle in his body relaxes.

“Please don’t go,” You finally beg, your voice a sweet whisper. It seems to have been the wrong thing to say, because his limbs lock up again, back stiffening against your palm.

“I shouldn’t be here,” He grumbles, gruff and weak.

“Yes you should,” You assure him, “Because you got hurt, and I told you you were safe here. We’re friends, remember, Billy? That’s what friends do.”

“We’re not friends.” He scoffs, and you can feel him slipping away. Every second that you stand there, hand on his back, soothingly brushing over his tense muscles, he seems to drift away, until you’re not even sure he’s with you anymore, just a foggy silhouette on the horizon.

“You said we were friends,” You remind him, lips nearly brushing his back, “What changed? Why aren’t we friends now?”

“Because..” He starts, and you wait patiently for him to continue, rubbing lines into his back over and over again.

“Because I want.. Because- Because friends-”

“You can tell me, Billy,” You promise, testing the waters as you creep forward. Inch by inch you snake your hand around his waist, carefully avoiding the injuries you know are lurking beneath his unbuttoned shirt. When your palms meet over his stomach you lean your cheek against his back, hoping that if you can squeeze enough love into him, he’ll come back.

“This,” He hovers a hand over your own, glancing down at your touch on his skin, “This is what… friends do, right?”

“Friends hug,” You confirm, “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” He chokes out, raising a hand to his face to smear away a tear that you’re sure has slid down his cheek, “Yeah I want that. But- but you got up, so I- I didn’t want to freak you out. You obviously didn’t want to, so-”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” You brush your thumb over his toned stomach, thinking about the way he’d stared at you from your bed, eyes sparkling and arms outstretched, “It’s just that… I want to do right by you, Billy. And I don’t think you get that a lot, do you?”

“No,” He rasps, and he starts to relax, back no longer tense as you practically whisper against it.

“Right, so..” You reason, biting your tongue before speaking out of nerves, “I think that you live like you drive, Billy. You blow past stop signs and you nearly run people over, you speed. You go so fast that you can’t slow down anymore, and you need someone to tell you to do that, or else you’ll crash.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I want to make sure you’re not rushing things,” You can feel his heated skin beneath your cheek, only the fabric of his shirt separating you, “You just got beat up by your dad, because of me, and I’m glad that you came here, but don’t you think that sleeping together is going pretty fast? I know we’re not like- sleeping together,” You mumble, cheeks aflame, “I just don’t want you to get ahead of yourself. You can.. You can have a hug anytime you want, and… we can sleep next to each other, too, but I need to know that you want that. That you’re doing it because you want to, and not because you think this is the only chance you’ll ever get. I’m telling you to slow down, Billy, you don’t have to rush if you don’t want to. I won’t kick you out if you don’t sleep in my bed, you don’t owe me anything for helping you, and I want to make sure that’s really what you want, and not just something you think you have to do. I… I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow with a clear head and regret it.”

By now your lips have reached his back, brushing softly against the material of his shirt as he stands by your window. It’s shut now, no one can see you from the outside, but his face is turned towards it like he’s examining the neighborhood. He’s not tense anymore, but he’s not moving either, and for a moment you’re nervous about having said the wrong thing.

“I’m not going to regret anything.” He murmurs, fingers ghosting over your own as he sets his hand over yours, “I.. I’m doing it because I want to, not because you’re the only person that’s nice to me. I’m doing it because… because I want to be-”

“You want to be…?”

“I want to be… held.” He whispers it like a curse, like he thinks the roof will cave and the floor will crack open to hell if he admits it. Your heart aches for the lonely boy, the battered son, the scared child, and you squeeze him gently in a hug.

“Okay,” You nod, and you know he feels it against his back, “I’ll hold you, Billy. Get back in bed, I’ll hold you.”

This time he’s less confident; not as suave. He turns towards you with a trepidatious expression, eyes tracking your every move like he thinks you’re going to give up the joke, turn, point, and laugh at him. But you don’t, of course, instead you hoist a leg up onto your bed and lay down clumsily beside him.

The mattress isn’t big enough for the both of you, so it’s a good thing you’ve agreed to hold him. You’re not really sure how to initiate it, you just simply leave yourself open, uncovered, waiting.

“Where can I touch you?” He glances up at your face, expression clouded with nerves.

“Anywhere,” You say without thinking, then stammer to fix your mistake, “I mean- I mean not like anywhere, just- anywhere.. PG.”

“Okay,” He chuckles, eyes once more heavy with sleep, “I won’t feel you up, I promise.”

When he braces a hand at your waist, cautious, unsure, you wonder if he’s ever not felt anyone up. Has he ever laid beside anyone before, just for love? Not for sex, not for lust, but for calm?

He looks nervous to continue, so you lean into it. You roll yourself onto your side, slinging his arm that’s on your hip to lay over your back. He scoots forward to meet you in the middle, and with a hand on the back of his head, you guide his face to press against your neck. His chin bumps your shoulder, and he nestles it there snugly. It means that his eyelashes brush your neck, that his lips part to release a shaky breath against your collarbones, and his curls tickle your chin.

“Is this good?” You ask, your voice a murmur into the crown of his head. He nods, and the action knocks his head into your cheek. He mumbles out a hasty, ‘Sorry’, and you laugh it off.

“It’s okay,” You drag your hands up his back, fingertips barely grazing his skin that his shirt has twisted up to expose, “It’s okay, Billy. This is okay. You’re allowed to want this, you know? You’re allowed to like this. You deserve this.”

Billy thinks he deserves a lot of things. A kick in the teeth, a tight pair of handcuffs and a drab cell, maybe even the fireplace poker. But he doesn’t think he deserves kindness, which is why he’s so confused why you’re gushing it like a fountain. 

He’s the type of person to make himself unhappy so that no one else can do it for him. He shuts out love and light and life so that no one can steal it away, no one can send him reeling when they leave. But tonight - he’s not sure why, maybe it’s the stinging wounds on his torso or the tickle of your fingers against his back - he’ll love.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

SUPERNOVA - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 3135 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: max's english tutor has a black eye and a shitty alibi. billy sees right through it.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, mentions of abuse, injuries mentioned (black eye), reader is abused by her mother just like billy is by his father

A/N: thank you for 300 followers!!! have this as a little gift from me to you <3 basic biology part three is in the works, don't worry! i just wrote this in a fit of sleep deprived passion the other night after thinking about it for a week or so and i wanted to share :) i hope you enjoy! the ending of this is pretty straightforward and, though i plan to write more parts, this can be read on its own for now.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

There’s never a good reason for Max to stomp into Billy’s room. It’s always either her demanding a ride somewhere, asking for money, or shouting at him to turn his music down. This time, though, there’s no music playing, and it’s nearing 11:00 PM, so he’s not sure why she’d need money or a ride.

He glances up at her, really more of a glare, through his eyelashes, reclined against the wall as he lounges on his bed. He’s got a magazine in hand and the pages are as boring as the cover was, but he’d rather stare at faded jet ski advertisements than read the book he’s supposed to be working on for English.

She stops just inside the doorway, jacket on and shoes laced. He narrows his eyes at her, something of a question, and she sounds just as venomous as he looks when she replies.

“I need to borrow your window.” She mutters, piercing eyes set on him.

He’s heard her say a lot of weird things since they started living together. Mom, I can’t find my left rollerskate, Why is my bra in the freezer?, and We’re not going in the theater, we’re going to sit outside and talk, have previously topped the list but this is off the charts.

“Sure, Max,” He drawls, fingers tightening against the waxy magazine paper, “Just haul it back in here when you’re done, okay?”

“You know what I mean,” She huffs, already lunging for his bed. She practically topples him in her overzealous attempt to reach the window, and he shoots a hand out to steady himself as the mattress rocks. He has half a mind to kick her onto the floor but he watches her click a flashlight open from her jacket pocket, and stares with suspicious intrigue instead.

“Come on, come on,” She huffs, clicking the light on, off, on, off, “Where is she?”

“Who?” Billy leans forwards, peering out the window into the blackened neighborhood, “Jesus, Max, don’t go shining lights into people’s windows at night, they’ll think you’re some creep trying to watch them change.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you know that from experience,” She grumbles, shoving his hand away when he tries grabbing the light.

“I’m not kidding,” Billy seethes, muscled arm coming to combat her defenses, nearly shoving her off of the end of the bed, “What are you even trying to do, anyways?”

“I’m trying to talk to my tutor,” She snaps, landing a sharp slap to his thigh that reddens the skin there, “Butt out, butthead.”

“Assface,” Billy grumbles, rubbing at the tender spot on his leg with half a mind to whack her upside the head. She ignores him completely, desperately flicking the light at a ground floor window.

“Do you really need tutoring help now?” Billy groans, the incessant clicking preventing him from what was supposed to be his before-bed relaxation.

“She wasn’t at school today,” Max explains in a huff, “Or- like, she didn’t show up at my school. She called this morning to say she was sick, but she sounded fine, and I heard someone in the parking lot say that they saw her outside her house, just sitting there, like, really late last night.”

“So she was getting some fresh air,” Billy deadpans, “Now get out of my room.”

“Would it kill you to cooperate?” Max turns to him with such a judgemental stare that Billy’s surprised he doesn’t wither away right on the spot. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl scorned, he thinks, annoyance bubbling in his chest.

“She’s obviously not coming,” Billy reasons, his patience wearing thin after almost two minutes of flashlight nonsense, “She’s probably sleeping. She’s got the flu or something, and you’re gonna wake her up and make her even more sick. Just leave her alone, and leave me alone.”

“I’m not asking you to be a part of this!” She gushes, jaw set in a hard frown and eyes rolling when he props his elbow up on the windowsill, cheek smushed into a bored expression against his palm.

“I just want to see if she’s okay, because she doesn’t normally get sick, and I haven’t seen her window open all day, and I really think that something might be wrong, so-”

After a staggering two minutes and forty-six seconds of morse code from hell, your curtains part. Max practically lights up at the sliver of light that appears between the drapes, but when your face pops between it, her breath hitches in a gasp.

Your eye is bruised. It’s swollen shut and purple, an ugly stain that blooms down your cheek, like a rose that sticks its thorns straight into Billy’s chest. His posture, previously saggy and bored, stiffens until he’s nearly pressed against the glass, brows furrowed in horror as his lips part ever-so-slightly.

“Oh my god,” Max breathes, and you regard them both with a weary gaze.

Max lifts the lower half of Billy’s window, slipping out the gap with such agility and speed that Billy doesn’t have a chance to try to stop her before she’s already outside. He rushes to follow her, cringing as his bare feet land in damp piles of leaves.

“What happened to you?” Max runs to your window, bracing her hands on the sill.

“Nothing,” You try to smile, and it pulls at the skin around your eye, finishing the expression off with a wince, “I just- it’s silly, okay? I slipped and fell on the ice out front and I hit the stair rail on the way down. I was too embarrassed to go to school, ‘cause I knew everyone would ask, so I just called out sick. I’m sorry, Max, I know today was our day, but I’ll do double time once this heals.”

The more you ramble, the quicker you spew your pre-determined speech, the more the thorns lodge themselves in Billy’s gut. It’s familiar behavior, having an outlandish excuse at your disposal, reciting it like poetry, blaming the bruises on a misstep down the stairs rather than a rage-fueled fist. He’s done the same to countless teachers, all staring down at him with a condescending sneer, assuming he’d instigated another fight.

Max might not be well acquainted with different types of bruises - and god he hopes she never has to be - but Billy certainly is. And your black eye is not from a stair railing, he knows that. It looks the same as his does whenever Neil decides he’s in a fighting mood, and it doesn’t seem like you have the frozen peas that Billy usually medicates his marks with.

“It’s okay!” Max promises, and thankfully she commands enough of your attention to where you don’t notice Billy’s grief-stricken stare, looking for all the world like he’d been punched in the gut.

‘It’s okay, we can just meet up some other time. Or- or I can come over to your house! So you don’t have to show your face anywhere. And I won’t tell,” She insists, hands dug snugly into the pockets of her jacket, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

So are you, Billy notes, just not to the people with the same ones.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You frown slightly, biting the inside of your cheek, “This really hurts, and it’s kind of giving me a headache, so… might be best to just meet when it’s healed.”

“That’s fine,” Max nods, reaching up and through the window to sling her arms around your neck in a rushed hug, “Just- call me when it’s better, okay? My teacher set us this new essay, and it’s got some stupidly complicated prompt, so I need your help figuring out-”

Billy watches as your head ticks up, eyes widening slightly as you tune into the sounds of your house. He knows the look all too well, you’ve heard someone coming.

“That’s great Max,” You stammer, reaching for the window pane to close it, "I’ve gotta go!”

“-how to… write it.” She finishes, face wrinkling in confusion when you slam the window shut, yanking the curtains closed, “Feel better…”

“Go,” Billy jumps to action, hearing a raised voice from within your room, not your own, “Max, move!”

He pushes her along the side of their house, shoving her around the back until they’re out of the line of sight from your window. He peers around the corner from behind an overgrown trellis, one that lets him see you without you seeing him. He waits with bated breath, ignoring Max’s indignant protests and slamming a hand over her mouth.

She licks his palm, but he manages to stay calm and keep it there. He will smear it on her cheek later, though.

Sure enough, Billy watches your curtains fly open. There’s a woman in the window now, and you’re standing behind her, expression unreadable. Then you speak, and Billy can’t hear it. Your voice must be soft, gentle, calming. The woman barrely reacts, eyes scanning wildly for whoever you’d been talking to. But Billy keeps Max quiet, pinching her hard when she tries escaping his grip.

Billy watches the woman in your window with a hatred he’s only ever felt towards Neil. She acts the same, menacing glares and a puffed-up chest. You react just as he does, a personified tension-diffuser as you shrink in on yourself and give steady, slow answers. She’s shouting, you’re mumbling. She’s advancing, you’re backing away. She’s grabbing your wrist, forcing you close to her, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut.

Billy’s stomach churns; he can’t watch this any longer.

He herds Max to the other side of the house, keeps her restrained with one hand and pries at her window with the other. It opens smooth and easy, no squeaking that would alert their parents to their escapade.

Once they’re both inside, she flips.

“You asshole,” She huffs, “You manhandled me! You really couldn’t just let me have one nice conversation with my friend? You had to yank me away like some psychopath?”

“She wasn’t going to come back,” Billy murmurs, a glint in his eyes urging her to lower her own voice, “And she didn’t fall down the stairs. Go to sleep, Max.”

He feels a pillow hit him in the back as he strides out of her room, and each step down the hallway towards his own feels like he’s numbing from the inside out. The role reversal of his own life had been so mind-shattering, watching a scene from his household happen in real time in front of him instead of a torturous memory in his nightmares.

By the time he reaches his room, his fingers are too numb to shut the door. He kicks it closed instead, staring out of the still-opened window to watch your own. The curtains are drawn again, shutting you off from the world.

He stands there staring for what feels like seconds, but is probably minutes with the way his brain is warping his thoughts. Abuse felt so lonely, it was a soundproof room with padded walls, but they stung like hot coals when his dad came stomping in to shove him up against them. His family, his safe space, his padded room, came with the irony of only existing alongside pain, fear, and anxiety. And knowing there was an identical room beside his for god knows how long, thick layers of insulation drowning out each of your cries and blocking out each other’s existence, makes him sick.

His eye stings with the residual image of your own, a feeling he knows all too well. His hand, on instinct, tingles with a cold sort of sensation, the same that he got from grabbing the ice-covered peas out of the freezer.

He’s off to the kitchen in a hurry, feet padding carefully across the floor so as not to alert anyone of his presence. The biggest challenge is opening the freezer door quietly, but he’s a pro at it by now. He takes the peas back to his room, but this time he doesn’t curl up in his bed with them pressed to his eye, he clutches them tightly and heads for the window.

Max’s flashlight is discarded on the sill, and he wraps it in his free fist. He clicks it on cautiously, testing the sound to see how it echoes in the empty space between your house and his. It’s not obnoxiously loud, hopefully no one can hear it.

He flashes it against your window, only for a second, then ducks beneath the sill. He waits, expecting an explosion of sound as your mother reaches out to grab him. But nothing happens, so he straightens up to his full height. The wind nips at his bare arms, goosebumps erupting over the skin not covered by his muscle tank. He waves the flashlight once more at your window, covering it with his thumb to flash it instead of clicking the button rapidly. 

He hears shuffling from inside, then silence. Then shuffling again, a little closer, and silence. Then more shuffling, and the routine continues until he hears your fingers scrape at the window pane.

You duck under the curtains this time, easier to slip back inside and shut the window instead of drawing the curtains, “Max, I can’t-”

Billy doesn’t know what to say when your eye catches him. He blinks, once, twice, three times, watching as your anxious eyes rove over him. Only then does he register the chill in his hand, the peas.

“Here,” He murmurs, voice soft and slightly raspy, as he holds the package out to you, “Ten minutes, then turn the package around, then ten more minutes. And if it’s still icy, do it over again.”

You take the peas because you have to, because he’s pressing the cold package into your hand. Your fingers wrap around it and you peer curiously at the image on the front, only glancing back up at him when he shifts in his stance, leaves crushed beneath his feet.

“The package rustles,” He warns you, “Be careful. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t,” You finally murmur, breaking your stunned silence, “I- Uh, thank you. It’s.. Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding once. He’s half aware that his curls aren’t exactly perfect like they typically are, because nodding sends one of them tumbling into his eyesight over his forehead, “That’s me.”

“Y/N,” You mumble, and this time even Billy hears the heavy footfalls in your hallway. They set you on edge again, and he yanks his fingers back from the windowsill so that you can snap it shut, “I gotta go.”

“Bye,” He whispers, voice lost to the night as he stands outside your window. He ducks beneath the sill again, where your mom can’t see him if she decides to search the premises. He doesn’t hear anything from your room, though, and he takes it as a good sign when the footsteps retreat. Then he hears the soft crunch of the package of peas, muffled beneath what he assumes is your blanket as bed springs creak from within.

His eyes snap shut at the sound, envisioning you curled up beneath your comforter, hugging the bag of peas to your bruise. It’s a position that feels so natural to him he almost replicates it, back slumped against the siding of your house. The rustling stops; you got yourself settled.

Only then does he move, climbing back through his window and shutting it for the night. He can’t sleep, though, eyes drifting towards your window from his seat on his bed. He watches, he waits, he stares until his eyes sting, every second that passes a blessing for the lack of commotion it causes. When he does fall asleep it’s after the upstairs lights of your house have shut off, because only then is it over, only then is it safe. He sleeps in solidarity with you, knowing that the click of the lightswitch puts you at ease just like it does him; if there's someone else awake, it’s not safe to sleep. He’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a stiff neck from sleeping up against the wall, but his eyes will flutter open and the first thing he’ll see is your window, hopefully open to showcase peace inside.

Never in his life has he felt connected to someone his age. That’s what abuse does, that’s what Neil does. He isolates Billy, keeping him under his thumb so the boy can’t escape his clutches. But now there’s a glimmer of hope right next door. Hope, he supposes, isn’t the right word. A muddy black eye isn’t hopeful. It is, though, when it’s matching his own, when your scars and bruises line up with each other’s to map out constellations of torture. He wants to chart them, find out where the patterns are, spit out the stories behind them.

He’s spent enough time stargazing his own past, picking a new ball of fire each night to examine. To pick apart, to wish he’d have acted differently in, to regret. Now there’s a whole other sky mere feet away from him, and he yearns to chart it, to explore its patterns in the desperate hope of finding companionship. Oh, that cluster? A missed curfew. That bright one? Backtalk.

He’s always felt like a potential supernova. Like one day, all of the hurt, rage, and despair inside of him is going to burst forth in an explosion of color, blood and guts paired with anguish and heartache. 

And now, knowing there’s another ticking time bomb beside him, two panes of glass separating the two dying stars, he has hope. Maybe it’s morbid, to want to explode in tandem. To seek connection in even destruction. All Billy knows is that if he can’t get out, he’ll die.

He thinks about it for a moment; getting out. Shooting across the galaxy, hurtling over the inky black sky until the swirling black hole that is Neil Hargrove can’t suck him in anymore. Landing somewhere where he burns bright without the threat of explosion. 

And for the first time since that vision began, he sees two stars. One yours and one his, twin flames, both rocketing towards a safe corner of the universe, one where no one else can dim your glow. 

Billy knows right then and there, he has to get to know you. He’s never tried making real friends, never wants to get close enough to have to reveal that Daddy hits him and Mommy - New Mommy - doesn’t care. But you’re the same as him, a dimming star puttering along with the desperate hope of migrating instead of exploding. And if you can feed off of each other’s light, merge into one, he knows you’ll be strong enough to escape together, to go out without a bang.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

Wicked Sensation

part thirteen // Billy Hargrove x f!reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen

a/n: hey guys my inbox is open!!! please send requests ❤️

word count: 6.6k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, drinking, sex mentioned, cheating mentioned

taglist(i love you all): @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @briefmongerfishzonk-blog @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh

Orange hues light up your room as your alarm blares. The clock reads 5:00 and you have to pull yourself from your sheets. Well you got three hours of sleep, that’s not too bad. Laying in bed by nine last night, you had the right idea but you’re thoughts swarmed excessively and no matter how hard you had tried, you couldn’t feel sleepy. Counting sheep, reading and being aware of your breathing had all failed. You were too nervous and excited to sleep. You knew you could sleep on the plane anyways.

You had thankfully packed all your bags and left them by the front door last night. The only thing you had to do before leaving was get dressed and brush your teeth. As you file through your dresser, your stomach feels like you’re about to drop on a roller coaster. Plane rides did make you nervous but what this trip could turn out to be made you more nervous. You were hoping this meant getting back together but you decided you’d let Billy make the first move and if he never did, then you’d accept that. You couldn’t imagine a world where you could be just be friends. You desired him too deeply, there was no way you’d be able to curb that feeling for him. You hear a knock at the door and your heart swells. He’s here. You quickly dress in comfortable clothes, a t-shirt and leggings with your Reeboks. You rush to brush your teeth, bouncing on your feet with excitement.

“Honey?” you hear your dad call out, “Billy’s here! You awake? We’ve got to get going soon.”

“Be right there!” you shout around your toothbrush.

After rinsing your mouth, you splash a bit of Jean Naté on your neck before you run out to the kitchen. Billy’s standing there, looking exhausted but still dressed in his 501’s.

“It’s like a five hour flight,” you remind Billy, “Are you gonna be comfortable in jeans?”

He smiles at you, “I wear these almost every day. I’ll be fine.”

Your dad interrupts the moment, “Alright, you kids ready to go?”

You both nod, Billy grabs onto your suitcase to lug it out and you fight the urge to kiss his cheek as you walk out to your dads station wagon.

“Did you wanna give me the keys to Camaro?” your dad asks Billy, “so I could go and start it every few days? Make sure it’s still alive when you get back?”

Billy laughs, a little surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. He reaches into his pocket and hands your dad the keys.

“Please,” he says, “I mean hell, if you feel obligated to bring the baby into the shop for a tune up I wouldn’t be mad.”

The interaction has your stomach flipping and your heart swelling. You imagine one day being married to Billy and him getting along with your dad like this. You wanna climb into the back with Billy and sit in his lap the whole way to the airport. But you push everything down. You’d promised yourself you’d let him make the first move. This trip was between two friends. One of those friends desired the other carnally but hey, still friends. You could behave yourself.

You do feel like a married couple once you get to the airport and argue about how to spend the brief hour you have before the flight. And another argument about what to do during your layover. You can’t help but think that prior to the break up, you two would’ve spent the hour and a half layover fucking in some deserted bathroom. You’re a little hopeful that might still happen. But Billy passes out during the first flight.

You watch him, so entirely tempted to hold onto him in any way you can. You don’t, but you don’t stop yourself from admiring him while he sleeps. He looks so peaceful and everything about Billy makes your heart skip a beat. His nose, so cute and button like as he breathes through it. His eyes seem active under his eyelids, like he’s having an incredible dream. You wanna hear about every dream he’s ever had. You pine for him to tell you every thought he’s ever had, and you think maybe this breakup could actually make you two closer. You suddenly longed for him in such a different way.

As if on cue, you feel the deep stabbing of guilt in your chest and suddenly you feel like crying. You had tried your hardest to justify to yourself why you’d cheated on Billy but when it came down to it, you were really just being selfish. You were broken, you’d repeated your mother’s behaviors which made you feel worse because you had always been so mad at her for doing that to your family. And instead of ending things, your dad demanded more control of your mom, which just pushed her away. He screened her phone calls, read her mail and wouldn’t let her leave the house unless he went with. You think you expected Billy to do the same. That was also selfish of you. In fact, now, you couldn’t believe he was sitting next to you on this plane. You didn’t deserve that and you wanted to tell him as much but were scared to bring up the situation at all.

An hour or so passes and you succumb to sleep as well. When Billy wakes, your resting your head on his shoulder and sleeping soundly. He smiles to himself, but when you start to rouse, he jerks away and you look at him with sleepy eyes.

“Sorry,” you mumble, wiping the bit of drool on the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fine,” he replies, checking his watch to see how long you’ve both been asleep. He sighs, realizing there’s still an hour before the layover.

He thinks about what to talk to you about, the awkwardness between you is heavy and rather unbearable for him. Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything because you’re reaching for your Walkman in your backpack. He peers over curiously as you rummage through the mess of cassettes you’ve brought. He chuckles when you decide on an INXS tape, he’d only heard whatever songs of theirs played on the radio and he’s impressed by your range of taste. You weren’t elitist about your music like most people were, like he was.

Billy’s never really flown before. One time when he was a boy but he barely remembered it. He had a slight fear that because the worst things always happened to him that the plane would malfunction and barrel down onto some random field in the middle of America. He reaches into his pocket for his smokes knowing the nicotine would calm him down. He nudges you, pointing to the armrest where the ashtray is hidden underneath your limb. You shoot him a cordial smile before crossing your arms to give him access. He even offers you a hit from the Marlboro but your stomach is already too upset, so you shake your head. You could wait until the layover. However, the second hand smoke gets to you and you have to close your eyes and focus on your breathing so you don’t throw up all over your lap. You end up falling asleep again.

Billy shakes your shoulder gently and you open your eyes to see him standing in the seat and you look out the window to see you’ve made it to Arizona. You grin, excited to stretch your legs. Billy’s ever the gentlemen, grabbing your carry on and lugging it around with his own. You find it immensely sweet, surprised that he would even look at you after what you’ve done. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, bringing your headphones from around your head to rest on your shoulders.

Billy shrugs, “I could eat something, I guess.”

Your stomach coils, wanting everything to go back to normal. You long for his laughter, for that light you used to see in him. You royally fucked it up, you took that light and doused it in water when you should’ve been fueling it.

You two settle into a fast food joint and after a moment of silence, you finally speak up, “I’m really sorry, Billy. I can’t even put it into words. I just… I know I really fucked up and I would fix it. I’d go back in time or I don’t know.”

Your face is hot and your voice echoing into your ears burns.

Billy just looks at you with furrowed brows, he goes to say something but seems to overthink it. With a sigh he tells you, “This isn’t when I want to have that conversation.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, this trip is supposed to be fun,” you deflect, sinking in your chair as you stare at the meal he’d bought you, appetite vanished.

“No, we’re going to have that conversation soon. Just not in a fucking airport,” Billy says pointedly.

For some strange reason, the anger is his voice is completely welcomed by you. You think it means he cares, that he’s not completely too far past getting back together. The look on his face might say otherwise but you know him well enough, he’s here and he’s buying your lunch and he’s carrying your luggage. Billy shows it in small but meaningful ways.

Nodding, you pick up a few fries and force them down. “I wonder what car my dad rented us,” an attempt to change the subject, to make things lighthearted.

Billy grins then, eyes lighting up, “I know what I’d pick.”

You playfully roll your eyes before breaking into a giggle, imagining him driving some hot red convertible with a surfboard sticking out from the backseat. It’s such an easy image, you’re enamored with it. At least you did one thing right, you brought him home.

“I think maybe my dad picked a station wagon, like his,” you counter and Billy pulls an annoyed face.

“Your dad wouldn’t do that to me.”

He’s right, your dad loved Billy. He told you he missed him when he’d stopped coming around and you just broke down, explaining to your dad what you’d done and how sick you felt. He encouraged you to talk to Billy, but you got cold feet every time you tried. You wondered if your dad thought less of you, now.

Soon enough, Billy’s looking at his watch and then back up at you.

“Boarding time,” he sings out, standing up and stretching his arms. His shirt rides up and you’re blessed with the view of his blonde happy trail, causing a tightness inside of you that you hadn’t felt in a while. You quickly clear the table and follow Billy to the gate, watching as his curls bounce with his steps.

Arizona to San Diego is a nice short flight, you basically go up and then back down. The stewardess doesn’t even offer refreshments which sucks because your mouth is so dry from the anticipation. You regret not buying a bottle of water or something during the layover. You let Billy have the window seat for this flight, watching him carefully for when he sees the ocean. You want to see that light inside him ignite again. And it does, his eyes look the happiest you’ve ever seen, his cheeks swollen due to the smile. You reach your hand over and squeeze his bicep, leaning to look out the window with him.

“S’pretty,” you tell him, seeing his hometown for the first time.

The scattered skyscrapers amongst a sea of buildings is such a stark contrast to little ol’ Hawkins. It must have been so difficult for Billy to adjust to. You squeeze him again at the thought.

He’s up out of his seat as soon as the plane lands, looking you impatiently so you stand up too, stepping into the aisle. You attempt to grab the carry-ons but he doesn’t let you, speed walking down the aisle once he has them. You try to keep up, following him to baggage claim where he bounces on his feet while his eyes dart around for your suitcases. He’s pushing through people once he finds them, heads turning at him as he does so.

You grab your suitcase from him, trailing it behind you as you walk towards the shuttles. You recite the company your dad told you over and over in your head, pointing to their shuttle as it pulls up. You pack into the bus, standing so close to Billy you can feel his breath on your face. It’s minty and warm and so intoxicating.

As you trail up to the counter, you pull out the papers your dad gave you. Sliding them across the counter, you smile at the girl. She lifts them up and gives you an incredulous look.

“You don’t look like a Billy Hargrove,” she says and Billy steps up behind you.

“That’s because I am,” he says, pulling out his wallet.

He hands her his ID with a wink and her entire demeanor changes, fluttering her eyelashes and suddenly all smiles. You fight your eyeballs as they try to roll.

“Enjoy your Corvette, Mr. Hargrove,” she says as she hands the keys over.

“Corvette?” he cocks an eyebrow at you, seeing that you’re just as stunned as he is.

The two of you follow her directions in the parking lot, walking up to a bright red convertible. You both gawk at it, you’re trying to figure out how your father as paid for it when Billy lets out a loud, happy laugh.

“I could kiss your dad,” he says, his tone excitedly shifting.

You scoff, “Please, don’t.”

But you smile. You wished you had a video camera to record this moment for your dad. You help him load your luggage into the small trunk, playing Tetris with the suitcase and backpacks. When he gets into the front seat, he starts feeling the dash with his hands and shaking his head as he laughs.

“Would you like to be alone with her?” you tease, tossing your head back to look at him.

He laughs again at your joke, “Maybe. No, I want you to watch.”

“Kinky,” you throw back, raising your eye brows.

He slides the keys into the ignition and rubs the dash, “Come on, baby. Purr for me.”

That’s it. You’re turned on by a man talking dirty to a car. Awesome.

He turns the ignition, bringing the engine to life and surprising you both as a Men At Work song blasts loudly through the speakers making you both jump. Billy’s hand quickly turns the dial, mumbling as he does so, “Well that ruined the moment.”

“Aw, you don’t like Men At Work?” you ask, mocking disappointment as you grab your bag full of cassettes.

“No,” he says, pressing the eject button but the cassette doesn’t pop out. “Oh, fuck no, please no.”

You turn to look, a devious smile spreading over your face, “Looks like you’re going to after this vacation.”

Billy shakes his head in disgust, repeatedly slamming the button with his finger before giving up with a sigh and hitting the AM/FM button. He scans through the stations until he finds his favorite station and the disc jockey’s voice fills him with nostalgia.

“So we headed to the beach now?” he asks with hopeful eyes.

You shake your head, “I gotta wash the plane off me first. Then beach.”

He chuckles, putting the car into gear and driving out of the parking lot. “Where are we staying?” he asks and you pull out the paperwork, scanning over it to find the motels name.

“Uh… Sunset Motel,” you start to rattle the address and Billy’s reciting it in sync with you. “Been there before?”

“Once or twice,” he smirks.

You wince as you feel a slight twinge of jealousy, “Oh, god, you didn’t lose your virginity there did you?”

Billy laughs and looks over at you, “No, no. I took a couple there.”

“I don’t know if that’s worse. Where did you lose it?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He scratches the side of his nose and smiles, “Summer Camp.”

You nod, frowning in amusement, “Stereotypical. I like it.”

Billy asks, “What about you?” but he’s not exactly sure he wants to know the answer.

You purse your lips, it was an embarrassing story. At least to you. “It was at a party. I was a sophomore and I just wanted to get it over with.”

Billy nods, though he looks sad. You were sad about it too, though. When you looked back, you wished you’d waited. A part of you actually wished you saved it for Billy but you had no idea he existed before October. Which was a weird thought, since now you were so enthralled with him. You weren’t sure how you functioned before him.

“I worked there for a couple months,” he points, turning your attention to a mechanic shop. “Before we had to move.”

You smile, imaging him fixing up cars with oil smeared all over his face and clothes, “Did you have a uniform with your name on it?”

“Sure did. I still do,” he replies and you raise your eyebrows.

“Why didn’t you try working for my dad?” you ask, realizing maybe there was a whole side of Billy you didn’t know.

He shrugs then, “I don’t know. Missed the water so the pool seemed like fun. Besides, all I really did there was oil changes and like basic repairs.”

“Pool will be closed when we get back… I know he’d hire you in a heartbeat. If you want, that is,” you suggest, eyes trained on the blonde behind the wheel, trying to read his expression.

He glances to you, “Might have to take you up on that. I’m actually gonna need a job, I’m expecting my shit to be all packed up when I get back.”

“What? Why?” you ask, looking at him quizzically.

Billy scrunches his nose up before he speaks, “Dad’s kicking me out. Gave me two weeks to find a place and well, this is week two.”

You gasp then, “Why is he kicking you out?”

Billy gestures around, “Think it had to do with coming here.”

You feel guilty again. You just kept fucking his life up for selfish reasons. “I’m sorry,” you apologize and he shakes his head.

“I feel so…” he thinks for a beat, “relieved to be back here. I’d skip the flight back if my car wasn’t there.”

A smile tugs the corners of your lips up, thinking about staying here with him. If he’d let you.

-

Billy stands behind you as you unlock the door, all the luggage in his arms and hands. You again tried to help but he wouldn’t let you. He sees the single queen size mattress in the room and bites his lip. Well, shit, he thinks.

“This is the only room I could afford for three weeks,” you inform him, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Billy nods, following you into the room. He tosses your backpacks down on the bed and places his hands on his hips, looking around the room. You drag your huge suitcase over and lift it onto the bed, unzipping it and digging through the mess of clothes. You pull out what you plan to change into, grabbing your bag of toiletries along with them.

“I’ll be quick,” you say, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

The shower feels great, considering the humidity here was thicker than at home. You shave your legs so you’re not quite as quick as you’d promised. But Billy’s lounged on the bed, just waiting, when you emerge from the bathroom.

He jumps up, “Let’s go.”

You giggle, reaching for your bag and sliding your shoes on, “Alright, alright.”

The drive is short, you’d made sure to book a motel close to a beach. You think the two of you could’ve even walked, but Billy seems excited to drive the car again. He pulls into a nearly empty parking lot and you watch as his eyes glaze, taking in the ocean this close in nine months. You can feel the euphoria radiating from him.

Since it’s rather late, it’s too cold to swim. Plus, Billy told you the ocean on this coast isn’t warm like it is in Florida. You two walk along the shore, holding your shoes in your hands. You stop and look out at the ocean, then to Billy.

“Go stand in it,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He looks back at you, “Come with me.”

You’d follow him anywhere. Kneeling down, you roll up his jeans for him. The two of you walk up to the tide, the temperature covers your skin in goosebumps but you feel relaxed. You watch as the waves form and crash down and you itch to reach over and lace your fingers with Billy’s. You don’t, you give him this moment to gaze at the ocean, to feel at home.

It’s starting to get dark, you’re not sure how long you’ve been standing there but you put the ball in Billy’s court, even though your stomach is screaming for some sustenance. Like he can read your mind, he sighs and looks over to you.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he offers to which you nod.

“Can we get something we can take back? Or something quick? I’m tired, the time zone change kinda messed me up, I’m sorry,” you reply, shyly.

Billy laughs then, “Just means we’ll wake bright and early. Best time to surf.”

-

You’re lying on the couch, unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, glancing up to the clock on the nightstand to gauge just how many hours have passed. So much for being tired.

You think you can hear Billy’s steady breathing, indicating he’s passed out. It’s not even late, so you try not to feel bad. Lights were turned off by nine but it’s nearing midnight. You tell yourself its because the couch is so uncomfortable but deep down you know you can’t sleep so close to Billy without being close enough to feel him.

After some thought, you sit up. You search in the dark for the robe you’d brought and your slippers. Digging in your purse, you find your pack of cigarettes and slip out the door, but not before grabbing a beer from the mini fridge. You sit on the white, plastic chair next to the door and light up the Marlboro. The smoke fills your lung and you relax instantly. Cracking open the beer, you look out at the parking lot illuminated by the Motel’s neon sign. Everything about this place is so pretty and so Billy. You imagine what he’ll smell like after being in the water, salty and musky. You close your eyes, pretending like things aren’t different, like you can go back into the room and cuddle up to him, flowering him with kisses and whispers of love.

The door opens, startling your eyes open and you let out a surprised yelp, clutching your chest as you turn to see a sleepy Billy— eyes puffy and hair wild from sleep.

“Oh my god, you scared me,” you say breathlessly.

Billy rubs his eyes, “What are you doing?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you answer apologetically.

He takes the seat next to yours, donned only in boxers and a white tank top. And his gold necklace but you’ve never seen him without it on. He grabs the can of beer, guzzling half of it down easily before snatching the pack of smokes without asking if he can have one.

“It’s peaceful out here,” you note softly.

He just hums as he sucks down the cigarette, eyes wandering to the ocean. He seems deep in thought and as pretty as this place is, he’s a better view and you can’t look away from him. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“There’s a rental place down the road. I bought my first board there when I was twelve,” he says and you swear he’s got some magic power to read your mind. “We’ll go there in the morning to get the gear.”

“Sounds good,” you reply nonchalantly, reaching for the beer and sipping it.

When you get back inside, he collapses on the bed and you venture back over the couch. He doesn’t say anything and eventually, you fall asleep. Though it’s a restless sleep and when the alarm starts blaring, you feel as if you had just closed your eyes. Billy slams the alarm off and shuffles around the room, getting dressed in the dark and crouching down beside you.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently shaking you.

“Hmm,” you whine.

Billy whispers again, “Time to get up.”

You turn over, “Why don’t you go without me? I’ll go tomorrow morning, I promise. I barely got any sleep.”

He chuckles softly, “Okay, princess.. er, fuck. Okay.”

You blush at the pet name, sleepily reaching over to stroke his cheek. “Is that okay? That you go alone?”

He nods, you can feel it against your palm, “I think I might need to do it alone first. Make sure I didn’t forget how and make a fool out of myself.”

“Oh, whatever,” you giggle as he pulls away.

Once he shuts the door behind him, you find the tank top he was wearing the night before and crawl into the bed with it, bringing it up to your chest and fall asleep to have the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Billy’s back before noon, waking you up when he unlocks the door. You sit up slowly, watching as Billy tries to juggle two surfboards and a duffel bag. You look at him curiously, one is smaller than the other and it’s hot pink.

“Isn’t she purty?” he asks, hands on his hips as he leans the boards against the wall with a giant smile.

Leaning forward on your elbows and resting your chin on your palm, you ask, “Is the pink one yours?”

“No!” he rolls his eyes, “I’m a little too advanced for that board, thank you very much.”

You giggle and look up at him. His hairs wet and you can smell the ocean on him from here. “How was it?”

Sauntering over, he drops the duffel bag in front of you, “Like I did it yesterday. So peaceful… so fun.” His smile gets even bigger as he unzips the bag and hands you a wetsuit. “I think this will fit.”

You grab the material as you sit back up, holding it out to look at it. “It should. What else are we doing today?”

Billy walks over to his suitcase, flipping it open and grabbing a change of clothes and his toiletries. “I’m gonna show you around town, there’s a spot I want to take you for lunch and a bar we can go to tonight,” he stands in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Alright,” you smile up at the blonde, “How should I dress?”

He shrugs, “However your little heart desires. No dress code anywhere.” He winks and closes the door, you can hear him start up the shower. You turn the radio on the alarm clock, turning it up as loud as it goes before you make yourself a pot of coffee, knowing you have enough time to have at least one cup because Billy’s got to style his hair.

Lighting a cigarette, you pour in the little creamer packet into your coffee and think about what clothes you brought. You two really oughta unpack or this room will be a disaster before the weeks over.

After getting dressed, you place your jewelry case on the nightstand and open it. Your fingers ritualistically pull out the necklace Billy gave you but you sigh, you can’t wear it but you tell yourself one of these days you’ll just put it on and see what he says. If he says anything. You still don the dagger earring everyday. Many attempts to take it out but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You worried he wanted it back but he’s seemed to replace it with something similar already.

A Great White song comes on the radio as you’re doing your hair in the mirror above the bed, which has proven to be a difficult task. You wobble around and almost lose your balance every time you lean one way or the other. When Billy emerges from the bathroom, you’re swinging your hips along to song as you tease up your hair and it makes you lose what little balance you had. You launch off the bed but you feel big, strong hands catch your arms and lift you to your feet.

You look up at him, cheeks red and an embarrassed smile. He smiles back at you, “Clumsy girl.”

A familiar sensation climbs up your body, the way he looks at you makes your head swim and you actually feel like you two might kiss. You’re just looking at each other, his hands still gripping your arms and your breath gets caught in your throat. Then Billy pulls away, walks to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. Disappointment settles into your stomach.

“Will this outfit be okay?” you ask, gesturing to it while he turns to look at you. You worried the pleather leggings might be too hot but you’ve paired it with a tiny shirt you’d turned into a tank top so you figure it evens out. You see as Billy swallows the lump in his throat before he just nods, turning his attention back to the coffee. You think you won, whatever game you’re playing.

-

The bar is loud and you’re exhausted from the heat of the day. The leggings were a bad choice but you could feel Billy’s eyes on your ass anytime he was behind you so were they really?

It’s apparent that Billy frequented this place before the move, the bouncer was excited to see him and didn’t bother to ID either of you. They chitchat for a while before Billy guides you inside. It’s dark but there’s bright neon lights scattering across the ceiling and walls. It wasn’t like The Hideout at all, which is the only bar you’ve been to. People in California are much prettier than in Indiana and you feel insecure, eyes scanning over the blondes with big hair and tight skirts. Billy places his hand on your back, ushering you to the bar.

He waits patiently for the girl working to turn around, a big smirk on his face. When she does, her face opens up with shock.

“Billy fucking Hargrove! What the hell are you doing here?” she screams over the music excitedly. She hops up onto the bar and over it to hug him tightly. You awkwardly stand next to them, watching as the hug lasts longer than your comfortable with.

“Did you move back?” she asks before glaring daggers at the patrons complaining about her not doing her job.

Billy shakes his head, smirk still plastered on his face, “No, my girl,” he motions to you and it makes your heart skip, “surprised me with a little vacation back home. I’m here for three weeks.”

His girl? Was it that easy? Were you his girl again? You have a million questions but you just smile as the bartender turns to you.

“How sweet!” she reaches over and hugs you, holding onto your elbows when she pulls away, “Nice to meet you! I’m Jennifer.”

You tell her name, blushing as you do so because you’re voice isn’t loud enough over the music and she asks for it again. You blame it on the shock from Billy calling you his girl, you’re usually the loudest person in the room.

“Well, let me get you to the house special,” she says before climbing back over the bar and turning to pour two shots of Jameson and slide over two cans of PBR. You now realize why when you’d ordered that at The Hideout he said you were his kind of lady.

“To home,” Billy cheers his shot with you once you sit on the stools.

You down the shots and you wince a little, but Billy’s smile doesn’t leave his face. Him and Jennifer talk for a bit while she’s busy pouring shots for other people and you look around the bar again, watching girls dance with guys and wonder if Billy used to dance with them. Overall, you wonder what he did here. Was it all surfing and hanging out at this bar? He’d hinted in the past that it was his fault that they’d moved across the country. Something about Susan not liking his lifestyle and thinking it was a bad influence on Max. You’re sure Neil probably wasn’t too stoked on it either. It seemed like maybe he had less control over Billy out here. So many places to be while in Hawkins, everyone knew everyone and there was really no where to go and nothing to do.

Billy leans into your ear and whispers, “You can go dance if you want to.”

You’d been zoning out everything around you while you were thinking, not realizing you continued to stare at all the people dancing. You look back up at him and blush, “You dancing with me?”

Billy laughs then, shaking his head, “I don’t really do that.”

“Then I’m perfectly happy right here,” you reply with a smile.

-

When you finally get back to the motel, you feel like as soon as you lay down on that couch you’ll be out. Mechanically, you dig through your suitcase for pajamas as Billy sits back on the bed and kicks his boots off.

He turns the TV and lights a cigarette, “Hand me a beer, will ya?”

You straighten up, cocking him an eyebrow and place your hand on your hip.

Billy’s oblivious for about five seconds but then he’s still not got a beer in his hand so he glances back to you and smirks. “You deaf?”

Then your jaw drops and you’ve got a fight the smile threatening to crack through.

He huffs when you don’t move and then pouts, “Pretty please.”

“There he is,” you grin and turn to the fridge, digging in it and retrieving a beer for him.

As his fingers wrap around it, he hums and looks up at you with a smile that reaches his eyes. He’s tipsy, it’s written all over his face in the cutest way.

You gather up the clothes you’d picked and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change and wash your face. You comb all of the snarls out of your hair and brush your teeth before exiting. Billy’s watching music videos, singing along around his cigarette. You saunter over to the couch, laying your head on the pillow and pulling the blanket over you. Billy stumps out his cigarette and turns the TV off, deciding it’s his turn to get ready for bed. Once he’s finished, he turns all the lights off and crawls into bed. Of course, you can’t sleep. This couch is lumpy and you keep tossing and turning.

After a beat, Billy softly calls out your name.

“Yeah?” you whisper back.

He sighs, “Get in the bed.”

No need to tell you twice, you shoot up from the couch, carrying the pillow with you. Under the covers are warm, heat always radiating from Billy. You hum happily, much more comfortable in the bed than on the couch. You remain on your side of the bed though, not wanting to push any boundaries. But then you feel Billy’s feet moving towards yours and he’s tangling your legs together. You open your eyes to see him looking back at you, the faint moonlight settling on his face.

“What did Steve think about us still going?” he whispers, his voice sounds like he’s nervous to use it.

You knit your brows together, “I don’t know. I didn’t ask him.”

“Ah,” Billy purses his lips. “Don’t you think he’d be uncomfortable with it?”

“Why would he?” you whisper, confused as to why he’s asking about Steve.

“His girlfriends in the same bed as her ex,” he explains softly.

You gasp at that, looking as you can see the sadness in his eyes. He thinks you’re with Steve. You place your hand on his jaw, “I’m not his girlfriend.”

“But—“

“I fucked up but I’m still in love with you. There’s no way I could be with anyone other than you. At least… not for like years or something,” you whisper.

Billy nods against your hand but then he sits up, “Why did you do it then?”

You lay on your back, figuring nows as good time as any to finally have this conversation. Before you speak again, you’ve got to collect the right words. You don’t want to word this the wrong way. If it even matters. Billy should not forgive you. The reason you did it was stupid and you couldn’t expect to be exonerated completely for it, ever.

“I… I got scared. When it seemed like intimacy turned you off. I freaked out,” you start, “It’s so stupid, I know, but it like fucking tanked my self esteem. I thought like maybe you weren’t attracted to me anymore and that’s why. So I guess I kind of just… accepted the next attention I got to try and feel better.”

Billy nods, surprising you as you expect him to judge you even more. “I’m still very much attracted to you,” he whispers, “I was scared something like this would happen so I uh, don’t like to get close.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you sit up, looking at him and reaching for his hands, “I did exactly what you were scared of… I’m so sorry. I just…”

He shrugs, “I get the whole like… self esteem thing though. That’s why I called Stephanie. I wanted to feel better about myself.”

“And Stephanie would hurt me so it was like two birds with one stone,” you say, wiping your cheek and Billy laughs softly at that.

“Yeah, wanted it to hurt so bad.”

“I deserved it. You slept with her?” you ask. You figure you know the answer and it already fucking hurts but you want to give Billy the satisfaction of hurting you back some more. And you realize how fucking unhealthy that is.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

You nod slowly, “We should get some sleep.”

Billy sighs, “I feel like this conversation should be longer.”

“We can continue it. I don’t know what else to say but if you have more to say to me, then by all means, please do.”

Billy lays back down, pulling you with him and again, you turn to face each other. “You really hurt me,” he whispers and you can see tears in his eyes. It stings. “I… I want to have what we had but I don’t know if he can.”

“It’ll be different for sure, but we can work at it,” you tell him. “If we both really want it.”

“Do you?”

“More than anything else,” you whisper and Billy nods.

Then you’re both silent, looking in each others eyes and Billy strokes your cheek before rolling over and facing away from you. Without a clue how, you manage to fall asleep.

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

a/n: a reminder that my inbox is open and i would looooove requests!!! smutty, fluffy, angsty, whatever :)

Wicked Sensation

part thirteen // Billy Hargrove x f!reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen

a/n: hey guys my inbox is open!!! please send requests ❤️

word count: 6.6k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, drinking, sex mentioned, cheating mentioned

taglist(i love you all): @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @briefmongerfishzonk-blog @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh

Orange hues light up your room as your alarm blares. The clock reads 5:00 and you have to pull yourself from your sheets. Well you got three hours of sleep, that’s not too bad. Laying in bed by nine last night, you had the right idea but you’re thoughts swarmed excessively and no matter how hard you had tried, you couldn’t feel sleepy. Counting sheep, reading and being aware of your breathing had all failed. You were too nervous and excited to sleep. You knew you could sleep on the plane anyways.

You had thankfully packed all your bags and left them by the front door last night. The only thing you had to do before leaving was get dressed and brush your teeth. As you file through your dresser, your stomach feels like you’re about to drop on a roller coaster. Plane rides did make you nervous but what this trip could turn out to be made you more nervous. You were hoping this meant getting back together but you decided you’d let Billy make the first move and if he never did, then you’d accept that. You couldn’t imagine a world where you could be just be friends. You desired him too deeply, there was no way you’d be able to curb that feeling for him. You hear a knock at the door and your heart swells. He’s here. You quickly dress in comfortable clothes, a t-shirt and leggings with your Reeboks. You rush to brush your teeth, bouncing on your feet with excitement.

“Honey?” you hear your dad call out, “Billy’s here! You awake? We’ve got to get going soon.”

“Be right there!” you shout around your toothbrush.

After rinsing your mouth, you splash a bit of Jean Naté on your neck before you run out to the kitchen. Billy’s standing there, looking exhausted but still dressed in his 501’s.

“It’s like a five hour flight,” you remind Billy, “Are you gonna be comfortable in jeans?”

He smiles at you, “I wear these almost every day. I’ll be fine.”

Your dad interrupts the moment, “Alright, you kids ready to go?”

You both nod, Billy grabs onto your suitcase to lug it out and you fight the urge to kiss his cheek as you walk out to your dads station wagon.

“Did you wanna give me the keys to Camaro?” your dad asks Billy, “so I could go and start it every few days? Make sure it’s still alive when you get back?”

Billy laughs, a little surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. He reaches into his pocket and hands your dad the keys.

“Please,” he says, “I mean hell, if you feel obligated to bring the baby into the shop for a tune up I wouldn’t be mad.”

The interaction has your stomach flipping and your heart swelling. You imagine one day being married to Billy and him getting along with your dad like this. You wanna climb into the back with Billy and sit in his lap the whole way to the airport. But you push everything down. You’d promised yourself you’d let him make the first move. This trip was between two friends. One of those friends desired the other carnally but hey, still friends. You could behave yourself.

You do feel like a married couple once you get to the airport and argue about how to spend the brief hour you have before the flight. And another argument about what to do during your layover. You can’t help but think that prior to the break up, you two would’ve spent the hour and a half layover fucking in some deserted bathroom. You’re a little hopeful that might still happen. But Billy passes out during the first flight.

You watch him, so entirely tempted to hold onto him in any way you can. You don’t, but you don’t stop yourself from admiring him while he sleeps. He looks so peaceful and everything about Billy makes your heart skip a beat. His nose, so cute and button like as he breathes through it. His eyes seem active under his eyelids, like he’s having an incredible dream. You wanna hear about every dream he’s ever had. You pine for him to tell you every thought he’s ever had, and you think maybe this breakup could actually make you two closer. You suddenly longed for him in such a different way.

As if on cue, you feel the deep stabbing of guilt in your chest and suddenly you feel like crying. You had tried your hardest to justify to yourself why you’d cheated on Billy but when it came down to it, you were really just being selfish. You were broken, you’d repeated your mother’s behaviors which made you feel worse because you had always been so mad at her for doing that to your family. And instead of ending things, your dad demanded more control of your mom, which just pushed her away. He screened her phone calls, read her mail and wouldn’t let her leave the house unless he went with. You think you expected Billy to do the same. That was also selfish of you. In fact, now, you couldn’t believe he was sitting next to you on this plane. You didn’t deserve that and you wanted to tell him as much but were scared to bring up the situation at all.

An hour or so passes and you succumb to sleep as well. When Billy wakes, your resting your head on his shoulder and sleeping soundly. He smiles to himself, but when you start to rouse, he jerks away and you look at him with sleepy eyes.

“Sorry,” you mumble, wiping the bit of drool on the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fine,” he replies, checking his watch to see how long you’ve both been asleep. He sighs, realizing there’s still an hour before the layover.

He thinks about what to talk to you about, the awkwardness between you is heavy and rather unbearable for him. Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything because you’re reaching for your Walkman in your backpack. He peers over curiously as you rummage through the mess of cassettes you’ve brought. He chuckles when you decide on an INXS tape, he’d only heard whatever songs of theirs played on the radio and he’s impressed by your range of taste. You weren’t elitist about your music like most people were, like he was.

Billy’s never really flown before. One time when he was a boy but he barely remembered it. He had a slight fear that because the worst things always happened to him that the plane would malfunction and barrel down onto some random field in the middle of America. He reaches into his pocket for his smokes knowing the nicotine would calm him down. He nudges you, pointing to the armrest where the ashtray is hidden underneath your limb. You shoot him a cordial smile before crossing your arms to give him access. He even offers you a hit from the Marlboro but your stomach is already too upset, so you shake your head. You could wait until the layover. However, the second hand smoke gets to you and you have to close your eyes and focus on your breathing so you don’t throw up all over your lap. You end up falling asleep again.

Billy shakes your shoulder gently and you open your eyes to see him standing in the seat and you look out the window to see you’ve made it to Arizona. You grin, excited to stretch your legs. Billy’s ever the gentlemen, grabbing your carry on and lugging it around with his own. You find it immensely sweet, surprised that he would even look at you after what you’ve done. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, bringing your headphones from around your head to rest on your shoulders.

Billy shrugs, “I could eat something, I guess.”

Your stomach coils, wanting everything to go back to normal. You long for his laughter, for that light you used to see in him. You royally fucked it up, you took that light and doused it in water when you should’ve been fueling it.

You two settle into a fast food joint and after a moment of silence, you finally speak up, “I’m really sorry, Billy. I can’t even put it into words. I just… I know I really fucked up and I would fix it. I’d go back in time or I don’t know.”

Your face is hot and your voice echoing into your ears burns.

Billy just looks at you with furrowed brows, he goes to say something but seems to overthink it. With a sigh he tells you, “This isn’t when I want to have that conversation.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, this trip is supposed to be fun,” you deflect, sinking in your chair as you stare at the meal he’d bought you, appetite vanished.

“No, we’re going to have that conversation soon. Just not in a fucking airport,” Billy says pointedly.

For some strange reason, the anger is his voice is completely welcomed by you. You think it means he cares, that he’s not completely too far past getting back together. The look on his face might say otherwise but you know him well enough, he’s here and he’s buying your lunch and he’s carrying your luggage. Billy shows it in small but meaningful ways.

Nodding, you pick up a few fries and force them down. “I wonder what car my dad rented us,” an attempt to change the subject, to make things lighthearted.

Billy grins then, eyes lighting up, “I know what I’d pick.”

You playfully roll your eyes before breaking into a giggle, imagining him driving some hot red convertible with a surfboard sticking out from the backseat. It’s such an easy image, you’re enamored with it. At least you did one thing right, you brought him home.

“I think maybe my dad picked a station wagon, like his,” you counter and Billy pulls an annoyed face.

“Your dad wouldn’t do that to me.”

He’s right, your dad loved Billy. He told you he missed him when he’d stopped coming around and you just broke down, explaining to your dad what you’d done and how sick you felt. He encouraged you to talk to Billy, but you got cold feet every time you tried. You wondered if your dad thought less of you, now.

Soon enough, Billy’s looking at his watch and then back up at you.

“Boarding time,” he sings out, standing up and stretching his arms. His shirt rides up and you’re blessed with the view of his blonde happy trail, causing a tightness inside of you that you hadn’t felt in a while. You quickly clear the table and follow Billy to the gate, watching as his curls bounce with his steps.

Arizona to San Diego is a nice short flight, you basically go up and then back down. The stewardess doesn’t even offer refreshments which sucks because your mouth is so dry from the anticipation. You regret not buying a bottle of water or something during the layover. You let Billy have the window seat for this flight, watching him carefully for when he sees the ocean. You want to see that light inside him ignite again. And it does, his eyes look the happiest you’ve ever seen, his cheeks swollen due to the smile. You reach your hand over and squeeze his bicep, leaning to look out the window with him.

“S’pretty,” you tell him, seeing his hometown for the first time.

The scattered skyscrapers amongst a sea of buildings is such a stark contrast to little ol’ Hawkins. It must have been so difficult for Billy to adjust to. You squeeze him again at the thought.

He’s up out of his seat as soon as the plane lands, looking you impatiently so you stand up too, stepping into the aisle. You attempt to grab the carry-ons but he doesn’t let you, speed walking down the aisle once he has them. You try to keep up, following him to baggage claim where he bounces on his feet while his eyes dart around for your suitcases. He’s pushing through people once he finds them, heads turning at him as he does so.

You grab your suitcase from him, trailing it behind you as you walk towards the shuttles. You recite the company your dad told you over and over in your head, pointing to their shuttle as it pulls up. You pack into the bus, standing so close to Billy you can feel his breath on your face. It’s minty and warm and so intoxicating.

As you trail up to the counter, you pull out the papers your dad gave you. Sliding them across the counter, you smile at the girl. She lifts them up and gives you an incredulous look.

“You don’t look like a Billy Hargrove,” she says and Billy steps up behind you.

“That’s because I am,” he says, pulling out his wallet.

He hands her his ID with a wink and her entire demeanor changes, fluttering her eyelashes and suddenly all smiles. You fight your eyeballs as they try to roll.

“Enjoy your Corvette, Mr. Hargrove,” she says as she hands the keys over.

“Corvette?” he cocks an eyebrow at you, seeing that you’re just as stunned as he is.

The two of you follow her directions in the parking lot, walking up to a bright red convertible. You both gawk at it, you’re trying to figure out how your father as paid for it when Billy lets out a loud, happy laugh.

“I could kiss your dad,” he says, his tone excitedly shifting.

You scoff, “Please, don’t.”

But you smile. You wished you had a video camera to record this moment for your dad. You help him load your luggage into the small trunk, playing Tetris with the suitcase and backpacks. When he gets into the front seat, he starts feeling the dash with his hands and shaking his head as he laughs.

“Would you like to be alone with her?” you tease, tossing your head back to look at him.

He laughs again at your joke, “Maybe. No, I want you to watch.”

“Kinky,” you throw back, raising your eye brows.

He slides the keys into the ignition and rubs the dash, “Come on, baby. Purr for me.”

That’s it. You’re turned on by a man talking dirty to a car. Awesome.

He turns the ignition, bringing the engine to life and surprising you both as a Men At Work song blasts loudly through the speakers making you both jump. Billy’s hand quickly turns the dial, mumbling as he does so, “Well that ruined the moment.”

“Aw, you don’t like Men At Work?” you ask, mocking disappointment as you grab your bag full of cassettes.

“No,” he says, pressing the eject button but the cassette doesn’t pop out. “Oh, fuck no, please no.”

You turn to look, a devious smile spreading over your face, “Looks like you’re going to after this vacation.”

Billy shakes his head in disgust, repeatedly slamming the button with his finger before giving up with a sigh and hitting the AM/FM button. He scans through the stations until he finds his favorite station and the disc jockey’s voice fills him with nostalgia.

“So we headed to the beach now?” he asks with hopeful eyes.

You shake your head, “I gotta wash the plane off me first. Then beach.”

He chuckles, putting the car into gear and driving out of the parking lot. “Where are we staying?” he asks and you pull out the paperwork, scanning over it to find the motels name.

“Uh… Sunset Motel,” you start to rattle the address and Billy’s reciting it in sync with you. “Been there before?”

“Once or twice,” he smirks.

You wince as you feel a slight twinge of jealousy, “Oh, god, you didn’t lose your virginity there did you?”

Billy laughs and looks over at you, “No, no. I took a couple there.”

“I don’t know if that’s worse. Where did you lose it?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He scratches the side of his nose and smiles, “Summer Camp.”

You nod, frowning in amusement, “Stereotypical. I like it.”

Billy asks, “What about you?” but he’s not exactly sure he wants to know the answer.

You purse your lips, it was an embarrassing story. At least to you. “It was at a party. I was a sophomore and I just wanted to get it over with.”

Billy nods, though he looks sad. You were sad about it too, though. When you looked back, you wished you’d waited. A part of you actually wished you saved it for Billy but you had no idea he existed before October. Which was a weird thought, since now you were so enthralled with him. You weren’t sure how you functioned before him.

“I worked there for a couple months,” he points, turning your attention to a mechanic shop. “Before we had to move.”

You smile, imaging him fixing up cars with oil smeared all over his face and clothes, “Did you have a uniform with your name on it?”

“Sure did. I still do,” he replies and you raise your eyebrows.

“Why didn’t you try working for my dad?” you ask, realizing maybe there was a whole side of Billy you didn’t know.

He shrugs then, “I don’t know. Missed the water so the pool seemed like fun. Besides, all I really did there was oil changes and like basic repairs.”

“Pool will be closed when we get back… I know he’d hire you in a heartbeat. If you want, that is,” you suggest, eyes trained on the blonde behind the wheel, trying to read his expression.

He glances to you, “Might have to take you up on that. I’m actually gonna need a job, I’m expecting my shit to be all packed up when I get back.”

“What? Why?” you ask, looking at him quizzically.

Billy scrunches his nose up before he speaks, “Dad’s kicking me out. Gave me two weeks to find a place and well, this is week two.”

You gasp then, “Why is he kicking you out?”

Billy gestures around, “Think it had to do with coming here.”

You feel guilty again. You just kept fucking his life up for selfish reasons. “I’m sorry,” you apologize and he shakes his head.

“I feel so…” he thinks for a beat, “relieved to be back here. I’d skip the flight back if my car wasn’t there.”

A smile tugs the corners of your lips up, thinking about staying here with him. If he’d let you.

-

Billy stands behind you as you unlock the door, all the luggage in his arms and hands. You again tried to help but he wouldn’t let you. He sees the single queen size mattress in the room and bites his lip. Well, shit, he thinks.

“This is the only room I could afford for three weeks,” you inform him, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Billy nods, following you into the room. He tosses your backpacks down on the bed and places his hands on his hips, looking around the room. You drag your huge suitcase over and lift it onto the bed, unzipping it and digging through the mess of clothes. You pull out what you plan to change into, grabbing your bag of toiletries along with them.

“I’ll be quick,” you say, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

The shower feels great, considering the humidity here was thicker than at home. You shave your legs so you’re not quite as quick as you’d promised. But Billy’s lounged on the bed, just waiting, when you emerge from the bathroom.

He jumps up, “Let’s go.”

You giggle, reaching for your bag and sliding your shoes on, “Alright, alright.”

The drive is short, you’d made sure to book a motel close to a beach. You think the two of you could’ve even walked, but Billy seems excited to drive the car again. He pulls into a nearly empty parking lot and you watch as his eyes glaze, taking in the ocean this close in nine months. You can feel the euphoria radiating from him.

Since it’s rather late, it’s too cold to swim. Plus, Billy told you the ocean on this coast isn’t warm like it is in Florida. You two walk along the shore, holding your shoes in your hands. You stop and look out at the ocean, then to Billy.

“Go stand in it,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He looks back at you, “Come with me.”

You’d follow him anywhere. Kneeling down, you roll up his jeans for him. The two of you walk up to the tide, the temperature covers your skin in goosebumps but you feel relaxed. You watch as the waves form and crash down and you itch to reach over and lace your fingers with Billy’s. You don’t, you give him this moment to gaze at the ocean, to feel at home.

It’s starting to get dark, you’re not sure how long you’ve been standing there but you put the ball in Billy’s court, even though your stomach is screaming for some sustenance. Like he can read your mind, he sighs and looks over to you.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he offers to which you nod.

“Can we get something we can take back? Or something quick? I’m tired, the time zone change kinda messed me up, I’m sorry,” you reply, shyly.

Billy laughs then, “Just means we’ll wake bright and early. Best time to surf.”

-

You’re lying on the couch, unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, glancing up to the clock on the nightstand to gauge just how many hours have passed. So much for being tired.

You think you can hear Billy’s steady breathing, indicating he’s passed out. It’s not even late, so you try not to feel bad. Lights were turned off by nine but it’s nearing midnight. You tell yourself its because the couch is so uncomfortable but deep down you know you can’t sleep so close to Billy without being close enough to feel him.

After some thought, you sit up. You search in the dark for the robe you’d brought and your slippers. Digging in your purse, you find your pack of cigarettes and slip out the door, but not before grabbing a beer from the mini fridge. You sit on the white, plastic chair next to the door and light up the Marlboro. The smoke fills your lung and you relax instantly. Cracking open the beer, you look out at the parking lot illuminated by the Motel’s neon sign. Everything about this place is so pretty and so Billy. You imagine what he’ll smell like after being in the water, salty and musky. You close your eyes, pretending like things aren’t different, like you can go back into the room and cuddle up to him, flowering him with kisses and whispers of love.

The door opens, startling your eyes open and you let out a surprised yelp, clutching your chest as you turn to see a sleepy Billy— eyes puffy and hair wild from sleep.

“Oh my god, you scared me,” you say breathlessly.

Billy rubs his eyes, “What are you doing?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you answer apologetically.

He takes the seat next to yours, donned only in boxers and a white tank top. And his gold necklace but you’ve never seen him without it on. He grabs the can of beer, guzzling half of it down easily before snatching the pack of smokes without asking if he can have one.

“It’s peaceful out here,” you note softly.

He just hums as he sucks down the cigarette, eyes wandering to the ocean. He seems deep in thought and as pretty as this place is, he’s a better view and you can’t look away from him. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“There’s a rental place down the road. I bought my first board there when I was twelve,” he says and you swear he’s got some magic power to read your mind. “We’ll go there in the morning to get the gear.”

“Sounds good,” you reply nonchalantly, reaching for the beer and sipping it.

When you get back inside, he collapses on the bed and you venture back over the couch. He doesn’t say anything and eventually, you fall asleep. Though it’s a restless sleep and when the alarm starts blaring, you feel as if you had just closed your eyes. Billy slams the alarm off and shuffles around the room, getting dressed in the dark and crouching down beside you.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently shaking you.

“Hmm,” you whine.

Billy whispers again, “Time to get up.”

You turn over, “Why don’t you go without me? I’ll go tomorrow morning, I promise. I barely got any sleep.”

He chuckles softly, “Okay, princess.. er, fuck. Okay.”

You blush at the pet name, sleepily reaching over to stroke his cheek. “Is that okay? That you go alone?”

He nods, you can feel it against your palm, “I think I might need to do it alone first. Make sure I didn’t forget how and make a fool out of myself.”

“Oh, whatever,” you giggle as he pulls away.

Once he shuts the door behind him, you find the tank top he was wearing the night before and crawl into the bed with it, bringing it up to your chest and fall asleep to have the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Billy’s back before noon, waking you up when he unlocks the door. You sit up slowly, watching as Billy tries to juggle two surfboards and a duffel bag. You look at him curiously, one is smaller than the other and it’s hot pink.

“Isn’t she purty?” he asks, hands on his hips as he leans the boards against the wall with a giant smile.

Leaning forward on your elbows and resting your chin on your palm, you ask, “Is the pink one yours?”

“No!” he rolls his eyes, “I’m a little too advanced for that board, thank you very much.”

You giggle and look up at him. His hairs wet and you can smell the ocean on him from here. “How was it?”

Sauntering over, he drops the duffel bag in front of you, “Like I did it yesterday. So peaceful… so fun.” His smile gets even bigger as he unzips the bag and hands you a wetsuit. “I think this will fit.”

You grab the material as you sit back up, holding it out to look at it. “It should. What else are we doing today?”

Billy walks over to his suitcase, flipping it open and grabbing a change of clothes and his toiletries. “I’m gonna show you around town, there’s a spot I want to take you for lunch and a bar we can go to tonight,” he stands in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Alright,” you smile up at the blonde, “How should I dress?”

He shrugs, “However your little heart desires. No dress code anywhere.” He winks and closes the door, you can hear him start up the shower. You turn the radio on the alarm clock, turning it up as loud as it goes before you make yourself a pot of coffee, knowing you have enough time to have at least one cup because Billy’s got to style his hair.

Lighting a cigarette, you pour in the little creamer packet into your coffee and think about what clothes you brought. You two really oughta unpack or this room will be a disaster before the weeks over.

After getting dressed, you place your jewelry case on the nightstand and open it. Your fingers ritualistically pull out the necklace Billy gave you but you sigh, you can’t wear it but you tell yourself one of these days you’ll just put it on and see what he says. If he says anything. You still don the dagger earring everyday. Many attempts to take it out but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You worried he wanted it back but he’s seemed to replace it with something similar already.

A Great White song comes on the radio as you’re doing your hair in the mirror above the bed, which has proven to be a difficult task. You wobble around and almost lose your balance every time you lean one way or the other. When Billy emerges from the bathroom, you’re swinging your hips along to song as you tease up your hair and it makes you lose what little balance you had. You launch off the bed but you feel big, strong hands catch your arms and lift you to your feet.

You look up at him, cheeks red and an embarrassed smile. He smiles back at you, “Clumsy girl.”

A familiar sensation climbs up your body, the way he looks at you makes your head swim and you actually feel like you two might kiss. You’re just looking at each other, his hands still gripping your arms and your breath gets caught in your throat. Then Billy pulls away, walks to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. Disappointment settles into your stomach.

“Will this outfit be okay?” you ask, gesturing to it while he turns to look at you. You worried the pleather leggings might be too hot but you’ve paired it with a tiny shirt you’d turned into a tank top so you figure it evens out. You see as Billy swallows the lump in his throat before he just nods, turning his attention back to the coffee. You think you won, whatever game you’re playing.

-

The bar is loud and you’re exhausted from the heat of the day. The leggings were a bad choice but you could feel Billy’s eyes on your ass anytime he was behind you so were they really?

It’s apparent that Billy frequented this place before the move, the bouncer was excited to see him and didn’t bother to ID either of you. They chitchat for a while before Billy guides you inside. It’s dark but there’s bright neon lights scattering across the ceiling and walls. It wasn’t like The Hideout at all, which is the only bar you’ve been to. People in California are much prettier than in Indiana and you feel insecure, eyes scanning over the blondes with big hair and tight skirts. Billy places his hand on your back, ushering you to the bar.

He waits patiently for the girl working to turn around, a big smirk on his face. When she does, her face opens up with shock.

“Billy fucking Hargrove! What the hell are you doing here?” she screams over the music excitedly. She hops up onto the bar and over it to hug him tightly. You awkwardly stand next to them, watching as the hug lasts longer than your comfortable with.

“Did you move back?” she asks before glaring daggers at the patrons complaining about her not doing her job.

Billy shakes his head, smirk still plastered on his face, “No, my girl,” he motions to you and it makes your heart skip, “surprised me with a little vacation back home. I’m here for three weeks.”

His girl? Was it that easy? Were you his girl again? You have a million questions but you just smile as the bartender turns to you.

“How sweet!” she reaches over and hugs you, holding onto your elbows when she pulls away, “Nice to meet you! I’m Jennifer.”

You tell her name, blushing as you do so because you’re voice isn’t loud enough over the music and she asks for it again. You blame it on the shock from Billy calling you his girl, you’re usually the loudest person in the room.

“Well, let me get you to the house special,” she says before climbing back over the bar and turning to pour two shots of Jameson and slide over two cans of PBR. You now realize why when you’d ordered that at The Hideout he said you were his kind of lady.

“To home,” Billy cheers his shot with you once you sit on the stools.

You down the shots and you wince a little, but Billy’s smile doesn’t leave his face. Him and Jennifer talk for a bit while she’s busy pouring shots for other people and you look around the bar again, watching girls dance with guys and wonder if Billy used to dance with them. Overall, you wonder what he did here. Was it all surfing and hanging out at this bar? He’d hinted in the past that it was his fault that they’d moved across the country. Something about Susan not liking his lifestyle and thinking it was a bad influence on Max. You’re sure Neil probably wasn’t too stoked on it either. It seemed like maybe he had less control over Billy out here. So many places to be while in Hawkins, everyone knew everyone and there was really no where to go and nothing to do.

Billy leans into your ear and whispers, “You can go dance if you want to.”

You’d been zoning out everything around you while you were thinking, not realizing you continued to stare at all the people dancing. You look back up at him and blush, “You dancing with me?”

Billy laughs then, shaking his head, “I don’t really do that.”

“Then I’m perfectly happy right here,” you reply with a smile.

-

When you finally get back to the motel, you feel like as soon as you lay down on that couch you’ll be out. Mechanically, you dig through your suitcase for pajamas as Billy sits back on the bed and kicks his boots off.

He turns the TV and lights a cigarette, “Hand me a beer, will ya?”

You straighten up, cocking him an eyebrow and place your hand on your hip.

Billy’s oblivious for about five seconds but then he’s still not got a beer in his hand so he glances back to you and smirks. “You deaf?”

Then your jaw drops and you’ve got a fight the smile threatening to crack through.

He huffs when you don’t move and then pouts, “Pretty please.”

“There he is,” you grin and turn to the fridge, digging in it and retrieving a beer for him.

As his fingers wrap around it, he hums and looks up at you with a smile that reaches his eyes. He’s tipsy, it’s written all over his face in the cutest way.

You gather up the clothes you’d picked and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change and wash your face. You comb all of the snarls out of your hair and brush your teeth before exiting. Billy’s watching music videos, singing along around his cigarette. You saunter over to the couch, laying your head on the pillow and pulling the blanket over you. Billy stumps out his cigarette and turns the TV off, deciding it’s his turn to get ready for bed. Once he’s finished, he turns all the lights off and crawls into bed. Of course, you can’t sleep. This couch is lumpy and you keep tossing and turning.

After a beat, Billy softly calls out your name.

“Yeah?” you whisper back.

He sighs, “Get in the bed.”

No need to tell you twice, you shoot up from the couch, carrying the pillow with you. Under the covers are warm, heat always radiating from Billy. You hum happily, much more comfortable in the bed than on the couch. You remain on your side of the bed though, not wanting to push any boundaries. But then you feel Billy’s feet moving towards yours and he’s tangling your legs together. You open your eyes to see him looking back at you, the faint moonlight settling on his face.

“What did Steve think about us still going?” he whispers, his voice sounds like he’s nervous to use it.

You knit your brows together, “I don’t know. I didn’t ask him.”

“Ah,” Billy purses his lips. “Don’t you think he’d be uncomfortable with it?”

“Why would he?” you whisper, confused as to why he’s asking about Steve.

“His girlfriends in the same bed as her ex,” he explains softly.

You gasp at that, looking as you can see the sadness in his eyes. He thinks you’re with Steve. You place your hand on his jaw, “I’m not his girlfriend.”

“But—“

“I fucked up but I’m still in love with you. There’s no way I could be with anyone other than you. At least… not for like years or something,” you whisper.

Billy nods against your hand but then he sits up, “Why did you do it then?”

You lay on your back, figuring nows as good time as any to finally have this conversation. Before you speak again, you’ve got to collect the right words. You don’t want to word this the wrong way. If it even matters. Billy should not forgive you. The reason you did it was stupid and you couldn’t expect to be exonerated completely for it, ever.

“I… I got scared. When it seemed like intimacy turned you off. I freaked out,” you start, “It’s so stupid, I know, but it like fucking tanked my self esteem. I thought like maybe you weren’t attracted to me anymore and that’s why. So I guess I kind of just… accepted the next attention I got to try and feel better.”

Billy nods, surprising you as you expect him to judge you even more. “I’m still very much attracted to you,” he whispers, “I was scared something like this would happen so I uh, don’t like to get close.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you sit up, looking at him and reaching for his hands, “I did exactly what you were scared of… I’m so sorry. I just…”

He shrugs, “I get the whole like… self esteem thing though. That’s why I called Stephanie. I wanted to feel better about myself.”

“And Stephanie would hurt me so it was like two birds with one stone,” you say, wiping your cheek and Billy laughs softly at that.

“Yeah, wanted it to hurt so bad.”

“I deserved it. You slept with her?” you ask. You figure you know the answer and it already fucking hurts but you want to give Billy the satisfaction of hurting you back some more. And you realize how fucking unhealthy that is.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

You nod slowly, “We should get some sleep.”

Billy sighs, “I feel like this conversation should be longer.”

“We can continue it. I don’t know what else to say but if you have more to say to me, then by all means, please do.”

Billy lays back down, pulling you with him and again, you turn to face each other. “You really hurt me,” he whispers and you can see tears in his eyes. It stings. “I… I want to have what we had but I don’t know if he can.”

“It’ll be different for sure, but we can work at it,” you tell him. “If we both really want it.”

“Do you?”

“More than anything else,” you whisper and Billy nods.

Then you’re both silent, looking in each others eyes and Billy strokes your cheek before rolling over and facing away from you. Without a clue how, you manage to fall asleep.

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

a/n: a reminder that my inbox is open and i would looooove requests!!! smutty, fluffy, angsty, whatever :)

This will probably be an odd ask/idea

But I've had a thought. Imagine billy x fem reader who has a seriously religious mother and billy accidentally gets reader pregnant. They aren't in a relationship or anything, just a one night stand.

So readers mom finds out and she drags reader all the way to Billy's house and demands to talk to Neil. At this point billy doesn't know, you just found out you were pregnant. And he's watching your mom scream and yell and demand billy marries you because she doesn't want her daughter to be a wh*re.

Anyways imagine if billy didn't care, not one bit. He thinks you're really pretty anyways and figures he would've likely never settled down (he probably has serious anxiety that nobody will like who he truly is, feels like they would've abandoned him like his mom)

And he's forced to get an apartment with you, so now you're both married with a baby on the way and your own apartment (thankfully your family has money to spare and your dad isn't as serious as your mom is, he's probably sending you a little extra each month) Billy's sleeping on the couch every night, you two haven't taken your so called marriage seriously.

And its still like that when the baby is born (its a girl!) And you've decided to name her Jude because reader had the Beatles song stuck in her head her entire pregnancy.

And you're laying there in the hospital bed alone, your baby is in the nursery with all the other newborns, and you feel billy slide in behind you. He's cuddling you from behind (imagine the ending scene of Juno when she had her baby) and you both fall asleep feeling perfectly content with your life. Even though you never intended to get pregnant or marry billy, you can't help but feel complete

(Sorry this is long)

So angsty but sweet! I hope this tickles your fancy!!

The collage of crosses on the wall remind you of what a charlatan you are. Your vision blurs the longer you look at them, listening to your mother screaming about how you’re going to hell for having premarital sex and with the Hargrove boy no less.

It was a simple checkup, you hadn’t been feeling well and it was supposed to be an easy checkup but your mom insists they test you every time you go to the doctor. She’s been doing it since you got your period. You didn’t expect it to come back positive but then again, when you’d hooked up with Billy, he was so pretty and charming you couldn’t bring yourself to insist he use protection.

He never called and you stopped showing up at the pool. A night to be forgotten about. Unfortunately, God apparently decided to punish you. Your mother tells you as much on the drive over to Billy’s house. When she bangs on the door, you’re standing meekly behind her, unable to meet the blonde’s eyes as he opens up.

“You,” your mother seethes when she sees him. “I need to talk to your father. Now.”

He obeys and your mother drags you inside without an invite, already screaming. Billy stands with his arms crossed with his dad, the both of them equally looking confused as your mom babbles on about angry she is. Then she motions to Billy, “He’s knocked up my daughter! He’s ruined her for any good man.”

Billy’s face drops, finding out the news like this probably not the best way. You tear your eyes away from his, staring down at a stain in the carpet, wondering what caused it.

Neil’s now screaming at Billy and two domineering voices echoing throughout the house is unfortunately a sound you’re used to. And it seems as if Billy is too, but when he’s forced to apologize to your mother you find it odd, eyes darting back up to him.

“They have to get married. She’s not going to be an unwed mother. She’s not going to be a whore,” your mom insists and you’re genuinely shocked when Billy doesn’t protest.

-

Sharing an apartment with your “husband” is awkward at best. He doesn’t sleep in the bed. You wonder if maybe this was just an easy escape from his apparent shitty home life. It was for you. There’s no yelling anymore. It just feels empty. The bed is empty. Just you, and you know your husband should be in here with you. It hurts that he’s not. You don’t know Billy but you do like him. You like looking at him, you like the polite conversations you have when you have dinner or watch TV together, and you want so desperately for him to come crawl into bed with you and suddenly confess he’s madly in love with you and he’s so happy to be the father of your baby and your husband. But he won’t and he doesn’t.

The ring on your finger doesn’t make you feel married but you are. You have been for almost nine months now. You’re so pregnant you look like you might pop.

As you attempt to sleep, like clockwork, Hey Jude gets stuck in your head. It does almost every night. It is a song that brings you joy so perhaps that’s why. A little lullaby to lull you to sleep. You sing it out to yourself, quietly. Over and over until sleep comes.

Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better

-

Labor is a long twelve hours and Billy isn’t in the room. Your mother complains profusely about it but you’re not surprised. You didn’t even call him at work when your water broke, but when your mother found out he didn’t know, she called him.

Still, he doesn’t come.

The nurse hands a clean newborn girl to you and your heart melts at the sight of her. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes and a button nose like daddy. Some of you is in there too, not as clearly but it’s there. She looks up at you with big eyes and a wrinkly face and you kiss her forehead.

“Hey, Jude,” you sing to her, naming her after the song that cradled you to sleep every night.

She’s so beautiful and pure.

It’s not until everyone’s left and they’ve tucked Jude away in the newborns room that Billy opens the door. You sigh, turning over and closing your eyes.

Then warmth. He’s getting in the hospital bed with you, chest pressed tightly against your back and an arm wrapping around your waist. It’s the closest you two have been in these long nine months and you don’t realize just how deeply you wanted it.

When he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, you feel hot tears staining your cheeks and everything feels wonderful all of sudden. It feels whole. Complete.

You fall asleep cuddled up like that. Billy clinging onto you and you know he’ll feel the same way when he sees Jude.

Wicked Sensation

part seventeen // billy hargrove x f!reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen

a/n: I’m going through a bit of family stuff but writing is my outlet so i don’t think it should be affected but to play it safe, this is going to be the hardest week of my life and I might get to requests slowly and post chapters slowly but maybe I’ll post more who knows. Anyways, thank you all so much for reading. I appreciate you all endlessly.

word count: 6k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, hey Eddie still exists!, Neil being Neil, pregnancy, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v

tag list: @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh @likeanimagepassingby2

Okay, so maybe it’s a bit ridiculous. The man has put a baby in you and is moving in to your parents house, you shouldn’t have to devise a plan to get him to propose to you. You never even pictured yourself in this role before but with all the pregnancy hormones and the devotion you feel towards Billy, the prospect of being his wife and the mother of his kids is insanely appealing. Perhaps this was all Mary’s fault. She’d put the idea in your head and now it was all you could think about.

That’s how you’re awake at the ass crack of dawn with her, making a lunch for Billy to take to his first day at your dads shop. You think that maybe if you start doing wife type things, Billy will realize how badly he wants to marry you.

“You wake up this early every morning?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Mary smiles wide as she pours you a cup of coffee, “How do you think I get anything done?”

“There’s like more than 12 hours left of today, that seems like too much time,” you complain as you hear footsteps down the hall.

You turn to see a sleepy, messy haired Billy with an unlit cigarette perched between his lips already. That same familiar feeling warming your chest and making you swoon whenever you see him. He walks into the kitchen, pulling the cigarette from his mouth to lean down and peck your cheek.

“Morning,” he grumbles to Mary and reaches for the coffee pot.

“Oh, here!” you cheer, extending out the cup Mary had just poured for you.

Billy takes it, smiling at you, “Thanks, darlin. Care to join me?”

“You haven’t quit smoking?” Mary gives you a look of shock.

Shamefully, you shake your head. You were going to schedule an appointment today for the doctors and figured you’d ask him about your options for that. You’d been smoking since you were thirteen and weren’t sure if you could quit and Billy wasn’t going to anytime soon so you’d always have the temptation.

“They’re Lights,” Billy offers, “It’s something.”

Again, your heart swells. It’s a small thing but you love how he defends you at any opportunity. Mary gives you both a disappointed look as you follow Billy out to the backyard. He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag before handing it to you.

“We can share,” he says, “At least you’re cutting back.”

You nod and lean your shoulder into his, “Thank you. I feel like you’re the only person who gets me.”

He kisses your temple but doesn’t say anything. You’d like to think you’re the only person who gets him. Billy’s still not good at talking about his feelings. He shows you how he feels through touch, and maybe that’s enough. For now, at least. If you’re gonna start a family with him, you’d like that to change.

He takes another long drag from the cigarette and speaks up, “I’ve got to get my things today. If there is anything left. You willing to make that trip with me when I get back?”

You think that means he feels safe with you. With a soft smile, you tell him yes. You know you two have to tell Neil that you’re pregnant, or at least, you think you should. See, Billy hadn’t told you about his dad finding the Polaroids of you and you still thought that Neil liked you, so you think maybe he’ll be excited that you’re pregnant. Billy knows better and is dreading telling his dad. In fact, he doesn’t really want to tell him, doesn’t want Neil to be a grandfather at all. He knows Neil will try to control his kid since he can no longer control Billy.

“Are you excited to work for my dad?” you ask.

Billy nods, he genuinely is. He likes working on cars, figures it’ll pay enough for you guys to find an apartment in a few months. He is thinking about marriage, but he’s afraid of it. Having a child together isn’t enough to make sure either of you stay, he’s learned that. He’s also worried you might run off into another man’s arms at the first sign of trouble. It’s a fear he can’t shake.

“Yeah. You looking for jobs today?” he asks as he stumps the cigarette out in the ashtray.

Sighing, you shrug. You hadn’t planned for that but you know you should. Billy shouldn’t have to have all the financial responsibility but you had no idea what you would do. Working at your dads shop could easily turn into a career but you didn’t have that luxury. Your options were limited with only being able to work until the baby was born.

“I suppose I should,” you tell him as he stands and helps you up.

-

You pick up the phone and dial a number you’ve had memorized since grade school but you don’t remember the last time you called it.

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice rings through.

“Hi,” you say meekly.

Eddie scoffs, “You remembered I exist.”

You lay on your mattress, looking up at the ceiling as guilt drips into your system. Billy kept you so distracted from everyone and then when you were broken up shortly, Steve took up most your time. Eddie wasn’t supportive of you and Billy and selfishly, you decided Billy was most important. He still was, even more so now that you were carrying his child but you and Eddie had so much history that it would be cruel to never talk to him again.

“I’m sorry… I haven’t been fair to you,” you say softly.

“I expected you to call when I heard Billy dumped your ass but you never did,” Eddie replies, “Guess you couldn’t bear to hear an ‘I told you so’.”

“We got back together,” you mumble, “But I should’ve called. I don’t want to have to chose between the two of you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Eddie, you’re the one who made me feel like I had to in the first place,” you explain, “Billy has no issues with you.”

He’s silent and your skin crawls. You didn’t want to lose him but you understood if Eddie wanted nothing to do with you.

“I just don’t want to have to deal with it,” he says finally, “If you guys are constantly breaking up and getting back together, I’m never gonna come around to the idea of him.”

“I don’t see that happening,” you reveal, “He’s moving in and I’m pregnant, so…”

“You’re what?” Eddie’s voice sounds shocked.

“Yeah. I’m having Billy Hargrove’s baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” he exhaled, “I tell you what, I didn’t see that one happening.”

“Yeah, we didn’t either,” you chuckle.

“And he didn’t run away? He’s moving in with you? Are you guys engaged or something?”

“No! Well, not yet. I don’t know if he wants to get married,” you admit, shyly.

Eddie laughs, “He’s moving in with you and you guys are having a baby. Why the hell would he skip marrying you?”

“I don’t know. Marriage is like a big deal, a big commitment,” you say and Eddie’s laughing harder, you picture him doubling over from it.

“Why are you laughing?” you pout, feeling like you’re missing out on some joke.

Once his breathing calms down, he starts, “He’s all fine and dandy knocking you up and you’re scared he can’t commit.”

Eddie starts laughing again and you really don’t see why it’s hard to believe. You and Billy both know that kids and marriage don’t keep people together. Eddie should know that too, but here he is laughing hysterically.

“It’s not funny,” you whine and finally, he sighs.

“You’re right,” he deadpans, “it’s stupid. So I have Hellfire tonight but if you’re not busy later this week, we should hang out.”

“Can I bring Billy?” you ask, twirling the phone chord around your finger.

Another sigh and he says, “Yeah… guess I should get to know him if he’s gonna be the dad of my god child.”

You’re heart swells, but you deep down knew Eddie would forgive you. You guys were practically family.

-

Dale holds out the light blue uniform shirt to Billy, tells him they can get him an embroidered patch soon and Billy thanks him. Having a name on the shirt was a privilege at the shop in San Diego and Billy never earned it. At your dads shop, it was something everyone typically got from the first day. He wanted his employees to feel important, like they belonged on a team.

Billy pulls the shirt over his white tank top and starts buttoning it up, eyes scanning over your dads office. It’s in disarray. Tools, papers and empty paper coffee cups placed sporadically. On his desk, is a photo of you and your brother. Billy picks it up and looks closer. He suspects it’s from a past trip to Florida because your hair is shorter.

“You’ll have to come out with us from now on,” Dale says.

“What? Sorry,” he places the frame back on the desk.

“Florida. For Christmas, you’ll have to come with us,” your dad explains and Billy feels weird but not in a bad way. Christmas wasn’t ever a special holiday since his mom left. In fact, they didn’t really even celebrate it before his dad met Susan. The only thing he’d looked forward to was a card from his grandparents. However, you talked about Christmas excitedly, you’d told Billy it was your third favorite; after Halloween and Thanksgiving of course. It must be that it was fun in Florida, that holidays with your family weren’t as empty or angry as the ones Billy was used to.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling at the thought, “Wonder what the surfs like down there.”

Your dad laughs, “The waters a lot choppier than California but I imagine you’ll have fun.” He gestures to the door, “Let me give you a tour, real quick.”

Billy listens closely as your dad explains the routine of the shop and what Billy’s primary responsibilities will be before sending him in with Darla from accounting and Billy recognizes the name when your dad says it. He walks into the little office and is met with a member of his fan club, one of the housewives that would hang out around the pool.

“Billy!” she smiles wide, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi,” he says as he walks up to her desk.

She keeps looking over Billy’s shoulder, causing him to turn and look.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says, “We’re alone.”

He looks back at her with his brows furrowed. Alone? he thinks and his eyes dart down to the worn romance novel sitting on her desk. She stands and he shakes his head, “Oh, no.”

“No?” she looks disappointed.

Billy chuckles, “Dale just hired me, he sent me in here so I could fill out paperwork.”

Her disappointment evolves back into excitement, “You’re working here now?”

“Yep!” he chirps as he sits at the plastic chair across from her desk. “Saving for the baby and all.”

“Baby?” she asks and Billy revels in the defeated tone.

“Yeah, that’s why Dale’s giving me the job. His daughter and I are having a baby,” he puts his elbow on his knees and leans forward.

“Congratulations,” she says as she slams a clipboard on the desk. “Just fill this out quickly and I’ll have you in the books.”

“Awesome,” he grabs it, “Thanks.”

-

Billy takes the long way home, chain-smoking and listening to an entire cassette even though it’s typically a fifteen minute drive from the shop to home. He just needs to clear his head and his favorite way to do so is to take the road that stretches all around Hawkins and back. It’s mostly fields and farms, but it’ll take him right where he’s needs to go and he likes that it’s empty roads. He figures his alone time will be limited from here on out.

When he finally gets home, you’re voicing concerns. They’re in the form of questions, he knows you were worried but he can’t help but feel a bit suffocated. He knows these feelings are because of his looming fear of seeing his dad but he can’t help but lash out.

“I just took a drive,” he bites, “Can you chill out? It’s not even late.”

You stare back up at him, a little stunned but you press your palm on his chest and rub in circles, “I’m sorry.”

Billy doesn’t expect that reaction and his first response is to push you away, but that’s Neil getting in his head. He sighs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest and tucking his face into your neck.

“No, I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, “Just not looking forward to going over there.”

Your hands circle around his waist and you squeeze him, “I’ll be with you. We’ll make it quick, just grab as much as we can and leave.”

He pulls back and hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head back as he leans in to press his lips to yours. It’s chaste but lets you know he trusts you. And anytime his lips are on you, it heats up your thighs and leaves you a little breathless.

“Shall we get it over with then?” Billy grumbles though his tone suggests he really doesn’t want to.

You lace your fingers and pull him out the door. He allows you to lead him across the street and then the two of you just stand at the door. Billy feels as if he has to knock, like he hasn’t just spent a little less than a year living in this house. His knuckles tap against the wood as he prays Max answers the door. She doesn’t.

“It’s about damn time,” Neil spews as he stares at Billy, eyes dark. He eyes dart to you and then back to his son, “Needed your safety blanket, did ya?”

Your blood boils so you squeeze Billy’s hand tighter, “We’re just here to get some of his stuff.”

You figure you’ll do the talking, maybe make this a little easier. Neil opens the door wide, stepping back and you can see Susan peeking her head out of the kitchen. Billy tugs you inside, making a beeline for his bedroom door. Upon opening it, Billy sees that Neil has sold all his stuff and all that’s left is his stereo system and two packed boxes on the floor. His face heats up, he wants to scream at his dad but it’s a losing battle. He knows what Neil will say. He bought everything that was in there. Billy knows because the stereo is still there, it was the first thing Billy bought when he got his first ever paycheck.

He heaves a sigh and then looks over to you, “Can you manage the two boxes? It won’t hurt the… ya know.”

“Billy, I’m like maybe a few weeks along, it’s a little tadpole in there,” you say and then your eyes widen, realizing that you’ve just admitted you were pregnant.

You turn around to see Neil standing in the doorway, looking dumbfounded.

“Fuck,” Billy curses, bringing his hand to rub his brow.

“What was that?” Neil asks, stepping into the room.

Billy heaves a sigh and turns to his dad, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he scoffs, “Sounded to me like your little girlfriend just said she’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Susan’s voice rings through the hall and she hurries to stand in the doorway.

Billy doesn’t say anything, he just starts stacking the speakers onto the cassette deck.

“You really fucked up,” Neil laughs sinisterly, the sound startling you and causing bile to rise up your throat. You swallow it down and go to grab the boxes but Neil stops you, “I’ll get the boxes. You shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting.”

“No, it’s fine,” you try but he’s already picking them up with ease and heading for the door.

“Shit,” Billy says, grabbing the stereo and following after his dad.

You eye Susan curiously before walking out behind your boyfriend. Neil’s already at your doorstep when you get outside and Billy’s quickly shuffling across the street after him.

“Dad,” he calls out.

Neil bangs on the door and your dad opens it. Your hearts in your chest as you run after them. You have no idea what Neil’s plan is but you’re scared he’s gonna deck your dad right in the face.

“Neil,” your dad says, opening the door wider to let him in. You and Billy right behind him.

“Go ahead and just set those down anywhere,” Mary says to him, perched over the kitchen counter.

You shut the door behind you, letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Dad,” Billy pleads again, but nothing follows. He doesn’t know what he’s asking Neil not to do.

“So my sons knocked your daughter up, has he?” Neil says after dropping the boxes on the floor.

This is all your fault. The guilt rises in your throat and threatens to pour out, you reach to Billy for comfort once he’s set the stereo down.

“It would appear so,” your dad says, leaning against the kitchen table as he looks to Neil casually.

“And you didn’t kill him?” Neil responds, crossing his arms.

Your dad shrugs, “I like the kid.”

Neil chuckles, but it doesn’t sound happy, like he can’t fathom anyone liking his son. He shakes his head, seems defeated and you and Billy both admire your dad.

“Is that all, then?” your dad asks, crossing his arms.

“Well what’s the plan then? When are you getting married?” Neil asks, turning to his son now.

Billy clears his throat and you notice he starts tapping his foot, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Neil scoffs, “Well, boy, you better figure it out. You don’t want to marry her? You should’ve thought that before you did something so damn irresponsible.”

The words sting your chest and your dad moves in front of Billy, physically shielding him from Neil.

“Thanks for stopping by,” your dad says, “We’ll make sure to let you know the plan.”

Billy’s shocked when his dad retreats, through all the years of abuse, he’s never seen his dad give up on a fight. He takes a deep breath when the door slams. Most of all, though, he’s embarrassed. Without a word, he picks the stereo up and lugs it into your room.

“Thank you, dad…” you hug your father, unable to truly express your gratitude.

“Let Billy know that I didn’t only do that for you, I did it for him,” your dad says, a solemn smile on his face.

You nod, squeezing him once more before trailing to your room to see Billy still holding the stereo. He has no idea where to put it, you have too much stuff. You put your hand on his shoulder, “I’ll give mine to my brother. Yours is better anyways.”

Billy heaves a sigh, remaining silent as he watches you unplug your stereo and gather the speakers. You leave to put it in your brothers room, saying a quiet hello to him when he peers up at you from his book.

“Aw, really?” he sets the book down and sits up.

You place it on his dresser, “Yeah, Billy’s is better than this one.”

“Thanks, sis,” he says, springing up from his bed, “I don’t have any cassettes.”

“I’ll give you some,” you offer, placing your hands on your hips as you look at him.

“Was that his dad?” he asks, biting his nail.

You slap his hand from his mouth, not wanting him to form the habit, “Yeah.”

“Are you really having a baby?” he asks, a tilt of his head.

You nod, giggling as you ruffle up his hair, “Yeah, you’re gonna be an uncle.”

He grins up at you, “I hope it’s a boy.”

“Billy does too,” you reply, “I hope it’s a girl.”

“Typical,” your brother says, poking at the buttons on the stereo set.

You roll your eyes and head back to your room, noticing Billy’s set up the stereo but he’s no longer in the room. You peer curiously out the door to see him walking up to you with the boxes in his hands. He sets them on the floor and sits in front of them, opening the first up to inspect what Neil wanted him to keep. To his surprise, it’s all the things he's kept of his mothers. His heart aches, wanting so desperately to tell her she’s going to be a grandmother, wanting to tell her everything that’s happened since she left.

“He didn’t throw any of it away,” Billy mumbles in disbelief.

“Is it your moms stuff?” you ask, as you sit beside him.

He hands you a photo, it’s of an infant Billy being held by a beautiful blonde lady. You’d never seen any photos of Billy as a baby.

“Huh,” you say, “So our kids gonna be this cute.”

Billy shoves you playfully, “With any luck, it’ll only have my genes.”

You giggle, happy when this side of Billy makes a resurgence. “I’m hoping and praying.”

He hands you another photo, one of when he’s roughly a year old and he’s standing in front of his mom while holding onto her hands. He’s learning how to walk. You scan over it, smiling back at his mom. “She’s so pretty,” you muse, “You look like her.”

You swear he blushes, “Yeah, she was beautiful.”

He continues pulling the items out, showing you every photo and explaining every random item. Billy visibly relaxes, an easy smile plastered on his face and he’s never looked prettier. You kiss his face, starting at his jaw and all the way up to his hairline.

“Oh! Wait!” You spring up and barrel out of the room, only to return with an empty photo album. You sit back down and hand it to him, “Here, you can put them in here.”

He takes it gratefully and gradually, the two of you fill the photo album. Billy then moves onto the second box. It’s his jewelry and a few clothing items but at the bottom of it, his dirty magazines sit. Billy laughs, pulling them out.

“Why the hell didn’t he just throw these away?”

“Who is he to become between a man and his porn collection?” you tease, pulling the first Penthouse magazine from him.

You start flipping through it, seeing in your peripheral that Billy’s watching you with an amused expression. After flipping a page, Polaroids fall into your lap. You drop the magazine and gather up the photos, blushing when you see they’re of you and Billy. Some raunchier than others.

“You kept these?” you ask, softly.

“How do you think I got through those weeks without ya?” he nudges your shoulder.

You look at him, mouth agape. You’re extremely flattered at the thought of Billy pleasuring himself to photos of you. Granted, half of these, his dick is inside of you but still.

“You jacked off to these?” you ask, lowering your voice.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, grabbing them from your hand and shuffling through them. “This one’s my favorite,” he hands you a Polaroid, it’s one of the day at the lake.

You’re embarrassed as you look down at your body, riding Billy on a towel with your swimsuit top not covering your breasts but pulled to the sides. Then you tilt your head, looking at where your bodies meet and you can see just the tiniest inch of his cock. It is a hot photo and you remember how turned on you got when Billy reached for the camera.

Suddenly, you feel his lips on your neck and then his tongue, wet and hot against your sensitive flesh. You moan softly at the feeling, tilting your head even more to give him access while you continue to look at the photo. He reaches into your pants, cupping you over your underwear and your breath hitches in your throat. He gently moves his fingers, teasing the wetness out of you. The photo flutters out of your grip.

“You like it, too,” he notes, feeling you soak through the thin cotton.

“Uh huh,” you moan, awkwardly spreading your thighs and feeling as the magazines and photos fall from your lap onto the floor.

His hand rises a bit, just to snake into your underwear and his fingertips drag up through folds and stop at your clit. He sucks on your neck, rubbing languid circles against your sensitive bud. You lean back, hands pressing on the floor behind you to keep you upright. Billy’s fingers feel like magic, always do. You ache for him, want to feel him all over. You get frustrated sometimes, wanting him closer even if he’s as close as he can physically be.

“Billy,” you whimper, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up but when he slides two fingers inside you, you collapse onto your back and kick your feet out to spread your legs further.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. He pulls away too quickly, so you cling onto his shirt and pull him back down, feeling his smile into the kiss. You lick against his teeth, still pulling at his shirt. He gives you what you want, licking into your mouth and curling his fingers inside you. Your back arches off the ground, moaning into his mouth. He groans back, his fingers faltering when you reach over to feel his cock straining against his jeans. You’re eager, unbuttoning his jeans and trying to claw them down, but with the way he’s positioned you can’t. He lifts his bum up and helps shove them to his thighs with his free hand. Your fingers wrap around his cock as soon as it’s free, stroking him quickly. He laughs against your mouth.

“Slow down,” he mumbles and you lick his teeth again, groaning in protest but you still listen.

You can hear his breathing and the slick sound of his fingers pumping in and out of your soaking pussy. You swipe your thumb against his tip, feeling his precum bubbling out and you spread it around which earns you a guttural groan from the blonde. You lift your other hand and push him back, leaning yourself over to take him in your mouth. You have to taste. Swirling your tongue around his pulsing head, your hand strokes whatever’s not in your mouth. Billy leans his head back, biting his lip to stifle his moans. If only he’d turned on the stereo when he plugged it in.

Billy’s pulling his hand away only to snake both of them into your hair, propping himself on his knees and pushing you further down on his cock. You’d be pissed about the loss but his pursuit of his own pleasure turns you on more. You position yourself better in front of him, grabbing onto his thighs while you breath through your nose as you take him into your mouth as deep as you can. You bob your head, by the aid of Billy’s grip on your hair as he guides you up and down. You look up to see his eyes meeting yours, mouth slightly agape and his eyes glassy. You can’t help but gag as he reaches the back of your throat and he moans, voice hoarse and just a tad whiny. It makes you squirm, feeling slick dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck,” he whines, as you pull off him with a loud pop, drool stringing between your lips and the head of his cock.

You stick your tongue out, eyes wide up at him and he wraps his fingers around his cock as he slaps it against your tongue. Your lips tug up before you wrap them around his head again, sucking hard and then pulling off again. Billy’s pushing you down into your back, then. He rips your leggings and panties off before following suit with your top and bra. As he’s lining himself up with your center, you start unbuttoning his work shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, the sleeves catching at his elbows. He gets the hint, smiling when he pulls it off and then grabs the hem of his tank top, bringing it over his head and tossing it aside. He presses his palm against your chest, easing you back down. He grabs his dick again and presses his tip through your folds, shaking it against your clit. You gasp, hands squeezing your own breasts.

“Give it to me, Billy,” you beg, “please.”

He smirks and then plunges his cock into you. It stings slightly as he bottoms out, his hand coming up to dig his fingers into your thigh. Your eyes flutter shut and he brings his other hand to grab your jaw.

“Look at me,” he orders and you obey, eyelids flying open to see his gorgeous, flushed face looking back at you.

Billy shoves his fingers in your mouth and you suck on them lazily, moaning around them as he rocks his hips against you. He pumps in and out of you, deep and slow as his thumb digs into your cheek. It’s crazy, with his fingers shoved in your mouth and his cock balls deep in you, all you can think is how fucking much you love him. How you can’t live without him. How you never want to go a day without this.

“Closer,” you mouth around his fingers.

He pulls them out and looks down at you curiously, slowing his thrusts.

“Closer, want you closer,” you plead.

Billy smiles, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you before pulling you up, holding you against his chest. Your arms circle his neck, holding him close while he moves his hips quicker again. You moan softly against his ear, clinging onto him for dear life. His arms tighten around you and you’re thankful for all the working out he does. He’s able to press against your g-spot with every thrust as this angle and you’re quickly coming undone around him. In attempt to help, you writhe against him. His labored breathing followed by small, high pitched moans in your ear pushes you along. You scratch at his upper back, letting him know you’re close and he starts pounding up into you harder. It snaps, the build up of your orgasm falling over the edge and you shake against him, biting his shoulder to quiet the cry you let out.

Billy’s leaning down, resting you on your back and relentlessly thrusting into you. You scratch all the way down his back, overwhelmed with pleasure as you ride out your climax. He freezes, eyes squeezing shut and gritting his teeth as he releases inside of you. You hold onto his face, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding your hips up against him. He whimpers, hands grabbing onto your hips to pin you down. He collapses his weight on top of you and it’s the most comfortable feeling in the world. You squeeze him in your arms and pepper his neck with kisses.

He finally lifts himself up to his elbows and gazes down at you, curls sticking to his face with sweat. He looks ethereal, always does but more so now than ever.

“I love you,” he whispers, caressing your face.

“I love you, Billy.”

-

Three months of saving and he’s about to burn through it in an instant. Billy peers down at the ring, reading the engraving and second guessing himself. Not about proposing, but about the words he’s chosen.

Forever, Snoopy.

He knows you’ll get it but it feels cheesy and he’s a bit uncomfortable with that side of him showing. He knows he shouldn’t feel embarrassed around you. Besides, girls like that kind of mushy, romantic stuff. Billy has a hard time with being perceived as anything other than tough and cool so he tells himself you’ll think the ring is cool and that it was very cool of him to reference how you met and totally not tacky and cheesy.

It burns a hole in his pocket as he walks into the restaurant, seeing you sitting there with your dad, brother and Mary and wonders if proposing in such a public setting is a bad idea. Oh, God, what if you say no?

He feels his lunch threaten to make a reappearance and he redirects his path to the bathroom. He locks the door behind him and looks at himself in the mirror. He wore his best shirt, the maroon one and he’s only buttoned the last two buttons. He shimmies out of his leather jacket, suddenly feeling too hot. He rests it on the counter and then turns the cold water on. He splashes it on his face and then takes a deep breath. Why would you say no? There’s no possible timeline in which you say no to marrying him.

Hell, he’d asked your dad this morning and if he doubted your acceptance he would’ve said something like ‘Sure, Billy, spend all of the tiny bit you’ve saved to move out of my house to get rejected by my daughter’ instead of “Yes, of course you have my blessing.”

Billy takes a deep breath and exits the bathroom, only to turn around and retrieve his jacket. Nerves be damned, he was gonna marry you. He arrives to the table and you stand to greet him, his eyes darting to the tiny baby bump more obvious than it’s ever been in the tight dress you’re wearing. He kisses you, hand pressing to your hip as he does so.

“Hi, baby,” you say to him with those dreamy eyes.

“Hi,” he coos back, his nerves subsiding the second your eyes meet. He forgets why he was nervous in the first place. “Sorry, I'm late,” he apologizes to you and then your family, as he sits down.

Your dad gives him a knowing smile and it makes Billy even more nervous. He’s in his own head during the whole dinner, missing questions directed at him. You reach over and squeeze his bicep, asking if he’s alright and Billy just nods.

Then he tells himself he’s got nothing to worry about and maybe right now isn’t the right time to propose. He ignores your dads pointed looks and when you excuse yourself to restroom Billy announces to the table, “I am going to propose just not here.”

“You nervous?” Dale chuckles, sipping his wine.

Billy blushes, “I just… I don’t know, feel like we should be alone.”

Mary reaches in her bag and pulls out the Polaroid camera, “Then you have to take the photo.”

“I can’t do both at the same time,” Billy explains, a little exasperated.

Mary grins, “Why don’t you do it when she gets back? As she walks up, get down on one knee.”

Billy’s eyes widen, thinking about what a spectacle that would be, “God, no. I want to do it when we’re alone.”

“It’s their story, Mary,” your dad says, “Let them write it.”

“Fine,” she grumbles and reaches for her wine.

“I’ll ask for you if you’re scared,” your brother offers Billy earnestly.

Billy pats his back, “Thanks, kid but I’ve got to do this myself.”

You return to the table and raise an eyebrow as they all turn to Billy expectantly, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Billy smiles too wide at you.

And he doesn’t ask, he thinks about it when you’re cuddling before bed that night but he can’t bring himself to do it. He presses kisses against the back of your neck

“You know I love you, right?” he mumbles, almost too quiet for you to hear.

You lean your head back, awkwardly angling your lips to his. He squeezes your waist and kisses back deeply.

“I love you, too Billy. Why are you acting weird?” you turn around to look into his eyes.

“I’m not acting weird,” he argues, but his cheeks feel hot.

“Are you trying to ask for a blow job?” you tease, pushing his hair back.

“I mean…” he laughs, “If you’re offering, I’ll accept.”

“Go to bed,” you giggle and tuck your head in his shoulder.

He’ll ask in the morning, he decides.

The Haunting - Masterlist

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI 🔞 Don't reposed my work anywhere.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: It’s been a few months ever since your boyfriend, Billy Hargrove, died in the battle of Starcourt Mall. You’re still struggling to come to terms with his death, when weird things start happening in your house - almost as if you’re being haunted. Against your better judgement, you get the growing feeling that it’s Billy, and that he’s trying to tell you something, but you cannot figure out what. And then the Vecna attacks start happening, and you and your friends are hurled back into an adventure that seems closely tied to the weird activities in your house, to Billy, and above all, the cursed town of Hawkins, Indiana.

Warnings: A lot of grief (especially in the first few chapters), angst and heavy survivor’s guilt. Some spooky stuff, but no outright horror. Mentions of nightmares and past trauma. Fluff and a lot of hurt/comfort. Swearing. Implication of an us against the world type of relationship.

Overall, this story features heavier topics, please bear that in mind before reading, but it will also, definitely, have a happy ending!

Also, as an additional disclaimer, this story does not follow all of the events and timelines of season 3 and 4. Yet it will contain spoilers for both.

As I am still writing parts of the series, the warnings will be updated accordingly and may be subjected to change.

A/N: This idea has been stuck in my mind for ages now! Initially, I planned for this story to be released for Halloween but, uh, looks like that worked out great!

Anyway, I really wanted to capture a certain eerie atmosphere in this story, and you can find some of the visual inspirations I’ve used for it here, as well as a playlist, which you can find on Spotify here.

I've also decided to start doing a taglist, so if you want to get tagged in anything I write, you can fill out this form, or let me know in a comment or something <3

Read this story on AO3 here.

Chapter I - I See You In Everyone

Chapter II - coming soon

hi, can i request a hurt/comfort fic where reader is struggling with family problems (maybe like billy or maybe something different) and they’re kind of a jerk like billy too? but then something happens that breaks them down and he just so happens to be there and he actually helps them deal with it. if you’ve already written something like this then i’m sorry, i’m new here 😅 but i love your writing and i’m excited to read more 💓

GOT A LIGHT? - BILLY HARGROVE X READER

W.C 1948 - INBOX (please request !) - GIF CREDIT TO OWNER

A/N: ohh my god i'm sorry i went MIA for like two weeks!! more to come soon, i promise <3 warnings: mentions of abuse, reader is abused similar to billy, they smoke together, angst, angst with a happy ending (? maybe hopeful, not happy 😅)

He's in his car when it happens. It's late, past 2AM, which is why he supposes your mother sees no problem opening the door and shoving you out. You trip over the porch step when she pushes you, landing hard on your ass on the concrete while she looms over you.

"Find somewhere to stay for the night," She seethes, spitting mad, "Because you're not welcome here."

He's suspected it for a while. Anger like the stuff inside of him, anger like the stuff he's seen ooze out of you, that doesn't happen for no reason. He's disappointed but not surprised to watch you fall, staying concealed in the darkness of his car as he watches from across the street.

You don't even try to get up, and Billy knows exactly how you feel. Sometimes, when you're knocked on your ass, you don't get back up. You're a modern day Sisyphus, and the boulder's rolled back down your hill one too many times. He decides to help you push.

He doesn't want you to startle if he slams the door to his car, so he leaves it open. Under any other circumstances, he'd close and lock it, watching from the other side of the street to make sure no one even breathes near it. But it's in the back of his mind as he crosses the street to your house, the slightly chilled night air nipping at his bare, toned arms.

He stops behind you, boots scraping slightly against the pavement. You don't dare look at him, you know who he is. There's only one person across the street that would be out at 2AM, and he's the last person you want to see.

"Come sit in my car," He murmurs, keeping his voice low in case your mom can hear from inside.

"Fuck off." You keep your eyes down, still turned away from him and splayed over the pavement. You're propped up on your elbows, and Billy sees one of them slowly staining the ground red.

"You can sleep in the backseat if you want," He presses on, ignoring your hostility the way no one ever ignores his, "I'll pass out in the front and keep the heater running."

"Fuck. off."

"I'm not allowed inside tonight either," Billy finally admits, "My dad and your mom took the same parenting class."

You're quiet, and Billy knows you're thinking about it. Thinking about all the times you've seen him threaten to blow, all the times you've heard the whistle of his teapot before it boiled over, all the times he lingers on the street too late to be casual.

"I have a first aid kit under the seat." Billy looks at the red-stained concrete, "And you can bum my cigarettes."

It's a peace offering. It's all a peace offering, a confirmation that there's someone else like him out there, and he'll be damned if he lets you slip through his fingers. He's spent enough time hiding from everyone that could never understand, and now that he knows someone can, he can finally talk. He can finally feel, he can finally relate, he can finally live.

Everything hinges on this. He can't keep doing this, he can't keep spending cold nights on the front steps or sneaking to the kitchen for an ice pack to put over his ribs. He can't do it alone, and you're the only one that can help him. He feels his heart beating out of his chest, pounding in his ears and pooling blood near his feet where they're bent against the sidewalk. His thighs are burning from how long he's been squatting, but he'd rather die than give up and walk away.

He uses your silence to mentally heal your wounds. He thinks about bandaging your fingers, disinfecting your cuts with a thin, pale antiseptic wipe that'll burn his own abrasions. He fantasizes about the simple act of sharing a cigarette with a friend, and you seem to share his thoughts.

"You- uh, you got a light?"

He knows that surrender. He knows the witty quip, the emotionally-distant snark meant to change the subject and disguise hurt for indifference. It's why he doesn't demand a 'Thank you,' because the way you look back at him is enough of one. You let him help you off the ground, and support half of your weight when the knee you'd tweaked gives you trouble. He helps you hobble back to his car, and he even shuffles you into the driver's seat to get you in quick and easy, where the door is still open. No one else has ever sat in the driver's seat of his car.

"I'll get the first aid kit," He murmurs, "Take a smoke."

He hears you wrestle with the pack of cigarettes he'd left on the center console while he digs around in the backseat for his first aid kit. When he gets back with the little plastic box there's one between your lips unlit, and he remembers your earlier question.

"Here," He fumbles in his pocket for his lighter. He yanks it out, sparking it until a flame roars to life. He holds it against your unlit cigarette, watching as the embers form and glow in the dark.

"Thanks," You mumble, and he nods while reaching for your hands. They're scraped and raw, blood dark in the creases of your fingers but light over your palms like you'd formed a fist and bunched it up there. There's rocks in your cuts from the concrete of your front steps, and he picks it out with his fingernails, crimson gathering under them that, for once, isn't his own.

You hiss as he pulls a particularly rough rock from its spot, and he fights not to acknowledge it. He doesn't want you to feel weak, so he keeps picking until your hands are gravel-free. He's far too good at wrapping wounds for an 18 year-old, but neither of you comment on it. He knows you are, too.

"There," He keeps your hands in his own, only a thin layer of gauze separating his skin from yours. He only moves his hands to pluck the cigarette from between your lips with one, and you blow smoke out of the side of your mouth instead of in his face as a thank-you.

"You sleep in here?" You raise an eyebrow, and he throws a scathing glance at his house.

"Sometimes. Only when my dad's having a bad night."

"So all of them," You scoff, "I've seen you out here before. I was gonna-" You pause, scoffing, then bury your face in your bandaged hands, scrubbing it clean of something Billy's sure is vulnerability. He takes a drag from your cigarette while you hesitate.

"I was gonna come out and ask if you were okay," You grumble from inside your protective shell, "But I- I dunno, I try not to be out here at night if I don't have to be."

"You don't know if they'll let you back in," Billy mumbles, nodding while funneling smoke out of the corner of his mouth, "I get it."

You nod, then shiver. Billy suddenly remembers he's still crouched on asphalt and not safe inside, because a cigarette and a friend concoct warmth he's never known before. He pats your knee, then stands, "I'll crank up the heater."

It's weird being in the passenger's seat of his own car. He's been in there to clean, scrape mud from the wheels of Max's skateboard off of the floor while he curses her under his breath. But it's different settling in the seat, head leaning back against the headrest while you shut the driver's side door. Silence envelops the car, and Billy clicks the lights on so that you've got a warm glow cast over you.

"Thanks for the cigarette," You take it back from him when he offers it to you, "That's what- uh, that's why I was out there. My mom found mine."

"My dad doesn't care," Billy spits, grateful for the freedom but doomed by the negligence, "I think he'll be glad if I die of lung cancer so he doesn't have to kill me himself."

You snort, and he's so glad you don't apologize. There's a certain familiarity that the two of you can speak with, you don't have to preface anything with 'okay, this is kind of dark, but-' or 'can i tell you something personal?'. You both have the same lives, and conversation clicks into place like puzzle pieces.

He wonders when the last time you got to relax was, as you sink into the seat. Your shoulders aren't tense and your eyes drift shut, both things that seem impossible for Billy in his own home. He suspects it's the same for you, which is why he doesn't lament the night ending so soon.

He wants to say goodnight to you, like a friend would. He wants to pretend he's at a sleepover on your floor, like your mom had brought you two cookies an hour ago, and now you're playing cards in your sleeping bags. He wants to pretend things are normal, that you're kids hopped up on sugar and giggles, not teenagers on nicotine and despair.

But the scent of smoke fills his car, and there are bandages on your hands. So he waits for your breathing to even out, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest in time with the seconds that slip away from your last encounter with your family. In, out, in, out, further and further away from the horrors in your house.

Only when he's absolutely certain you're asleep does he dare speak, and his voice is barely anything above a whisper, raspy and cautious.

"Goodnight," He murmurs, because he feels incomplete shutting his eyes without saying it. He keeps his head turned towards you as he sleeps, legs splayed open as he slumps against the seat behind him. He's almost afraid to go to sleep, on high alert to make sure that nothing can steal away his opportunity. Making sure the lights in his house are still off, that his dad won't give up and push him back into the house in case the neighbors see him sleeping in his car. He's busy making sure your lights aren't on either, that your mother doesn't storm over and demand that her child be released from the young man's car. And he's making sure you don't slip out yourself, like you're a puff of smoke that could vanish if he puts too much faith in you.

But eventually, his eyes slip shut and don't open again for hours. He goes to sleep with a friend in his car, and he wakes up with one, too. There's light streaming through the windshield, and the car is more than warm because of it. There's birds chirping, there's people walking their dogs, there's chatter over backyard fences, and there's you.

You're flipping through a book of postcards that he keeps in the driver's side door, all of California's scenic spots. Your fingers are brushing over his favorite now, the beaches along the coast that he'd swore to surf clean across. You glance over at him when he shifts in his seat, and you bite the inside of your cheek before breaking the silence.

"Morning," You mumble, averting your eyes to the postcard in your lap, "These are.. these are really pretty."

"Yeah they are," Billy rasps, morning voice in full effect, "Prettier in person, though."

"I'll have to go sometime, then." You hum, and Billy's decided before you flip to the next page that he'll be the one to take you.

😍😍😍

BASIC BIOLOGY - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART THREE | FINAL PART) | PART ONE | PART TWO

word count: 9492 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: you're paired with billy for a biology project. you only visit his house once, but it's enough for you to understand why he doesn't want you to come over again. when he starts showing up more and more in your life, you realize that it's basic biology: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

Contents: mentions of injuries (healed/healing), trauma, discussions of billy's past, angst with a fluffy ending, cows !

A/N: oh my gosh ! the end ! it feels like i've been working on this forever and thinking about it even longer, and as a new-ish writer on the billy scene, i just want to thank you all for how sweet you've been, in response to this fic and many others. your support is so important to me, and i'm so glad that many of you enjoyed this fic. i hope that you like the ending, too, please tell me what you think!

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

You wake up beside Billy Hargrove differently than you’d fallen asleep beside him. Where his face had been previously tucked snug to your neck, his breath fanning out over your collarbones, his cheek is smushed to your chest now. His arm is slung over your stomach, one of his legs thrown over your own as his torso lays slumped up against yours. His cheek chubs up where it’s resting on your breast, and- god, his eyelashes are beautiful. The eyes behind them are just as gorgeous, but for now you’re glad they’re shut. He looks so relaxed, so peaceful, and you’d stay still for an eternity beneath him if it meant he’d be able to stay in that drowsy state of serenity. 

His curls are mussed with sleep, bent out of shape and frizzy where they’d typically be slicked. There’s still bruises littered over his face but they’ve already begun healing, shifting in color to be lighter and less jarring. 

Your fingers come up without you noticing to brush over one of his curls. It’s soft to the touch, and you give it an experimental squeeze, watching as it bounces back. You notice that it’s tangled slightly with another strand, and brush your pinky between them to separate the tangle.

It must tug lightly on Billy’s scalp, because he heaves an unconscious sigh. You wait for him to frown, to wake and snap at you for touching his precious hair, but he never does. Instead he settles again, eyes still firmly shut.

You can’t help it; you reach for his scalp. Your nails scrape gently, ever-so-slightly over his skin, brushing over hundreds of individual strands of hair rooted there and curled together. 

Your breath catches in your throat as he moves. He hums, deep, soft, and low in his throat, the sound vibrating in his chest that’s pressed to your side. It sends a shiver up your spine, but it’s quickly quelled with the warmth that comes from his face as he presses it even further into your chest. Now his cheek is practically invisible, buried in your breast and angling his nose to one side. He tightens his arm around your waist, hoisting himself up and over you even further than he’d been before. He reminds you of a cat, purring and leaning into soft touches.

He seems to like it, so you don’t stop. You rove your fingers through every inch of his scalp, scratching and stroking and smoothing through his curls until they’re a mass of individual strands instead of grouped twists. It’s ridiculously soft, and you wonder how you’ve been able to refrain from touching his hair before now.

There’s nothing you’d rather do than stay here for eternity. Holding him, brushing through his hair, loving him. But your bladder has other wishes. 

Wrestling yourself out from under him is difficult, but he accepts a pillow in exchange for your torso. He burrows his face into it just the same, and you can’t help but brush over his curls one last time as you stand over him, tucking the blankets up and around his shoulders.

When he’s securely tucked into your covers and snoozing away, you pad out of your bedroom, thankful that your parents work early shifts.

You seem to have woken up at a perfect time to make a breakfast larger than you normally do. It takes double the time to prepare a meal for the two of you, and you’re thankful that you think to group the eggs together in a pan to cut that extra time down. You’re setting plates at the table, stuffed with eggs, toast, and fresh fruit when Billy emerges from the hallway, staring cautiously at you where he stands.

His hair is haphazardly smoothed, but there’s no fixing the frizz that your fingers had worked out of it. Your clothes look good on him, even if the sweatpants are stretched over his upper calves instead of at his ankles from how he’d shifted in his sleep. Your shirt is riding up at his stomach and you politely avoid looking at his toned torso, even if you really want to.

“Breakfast,” You hum, pointing your spatula at the table, “Orange juice or milk?”

“Uh-” He flounders, blinking rapidly, “Water, please. Or- I can get it.”

He makes to step towards the kitchen but you whirl your spatula around to face him, intent on pampering the boy, “No, just go sit down. I can do it.”

He looks properly chided, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he ducks to hide it from you.

You set an ice cold glass of water at his place and notice that he’s waited to begin eating until you sat down. You give him the go-ahead, digging into a chunk of egg with your fork.

“Sleep good?” You glance up at him, a questioning glance shot through your lashes. He nods, silent and careful, and you realize that he seems to have closed himself off since last night, and you think that maybe leaving the bed before he woke wasn’t the best idea, even if it was just to make breakfast. You try remedying it by knocking your foot against his under the table, and he nearly chokes on his water. You leave your foot pressed flush to his own, a constant reminder of your touch on his skin.

“Does your stomach still hurt?” You try again, gulping down OJ. 

“A bit,” His morning voice is raspy and you know you’re going to fawn over it later, even if you’re trying hard not to take advantage of his vulnerability.

“It’s mostly a cut up here,” He reaches a hand under his (your) shirt, rubbing at a patch below his left pec. You can see his fingers move under the shirt, and you remember the wound that’s there from last night.

“That probably means your ribs aren’t broken,” You conclude, relief washing over you at the fact that his bruises are just that.

“Nah, not broken,” He shakes his head, stuffing fruit into his mouth and ignoring the way juice drips down his chin, “I know what a broken rib feels like.”

You still, looking up suspiciously at him with your head ducked to your plate. His shoulders slump, “Just some kid from school. He had rings on, and he hit hard.”

“Oh,” You supply lamely, “I’m glad they healed.”

You eat in silence for a few bites, but he doesn’t shy away from your touch beneath the table, and you’re thankful for that. He even shifts his foot to press more against yours, his sock slightly itchy against your skin. Right after he leans into your touch, he speaks.

“My dad doesn’t usually… do this. This was bad, he tries not to leave marks. I think-” He hesitates, and you nudge his foot with your own again, encouraging him, “I think he’d be even more angry if I missed school than whatever he was mad about in the first place. So he has to keep things inconspicuous. And if anyone sees anything I just have to make excuses.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, not out of pity, but sympathy, “I… I really don’t know how you do it. You’re strong, Billy, y’know that?”

He scoffs into his honeydew.

“I mean it,” You press on, “You just… take it. You let him do that to you because if you fight back other people might get hurt, and that takes strength. Even if it feels weak to get beat on, just know you’re saving your stepsister and her mom, and… I’m proud of you.”

He stills for a moment, jaw stiffening in the middle of a chewing motion. He swallows dry, but whatever it is goes down fine, and he clears his throat without meeting your eye.

“He used to hit my mom,” Billy admits, voice now hoarse from emotion rather than sleep. He scrunches his eyes shut momentarily, “I.. I couldn’t stop him. I was too young. And she left. So I guess I just… got bigger. Just in case.”

You recall seeing a set of weights in his living room. You had presumed they were his, but hadn’t bothered to ask among discussions of mitosis. Now, though, you realize he’s bulked himself up to combat his dad’s abuse, even if he uses it to protect others rather than himself.

It spreads a thin layer of mist over your eyes, the thought of preteen Billy experimenting with handheld five-pounders in hopes of blocking a punch. What hits you even harder is his current image, a toned teen who still doesn’t have the heart to hit back.

You can’t figure out how to respond. If you say you’re proud of him again, he might shut down. If you sound like you’re pitying him, he’ll be angry. So instead you reach over the table, your fork clattering to the wood as you take his free hand.

He’s startled by the sudden movement paired with the noise, but he makes up for his momentary flinch by ghosting his thumb softly over the back of your hand. His fingers don’t curl against yours, so it’s not a mutual gesture, you’re just holding his hand. Slowly, surely, his fingers move inch by inch, slipping between your own and settling against your skin.

You wonder if it’s the first time anyone’s ever held his hand.

“Thanks,” He breathes, his breath a huff of cantaloupe scent. He sniffles, hard, aggressively, and you know he doesn’t want you to acknowledge the tear that streaks fast down his cheek. 

You let him wipe it away without saying anything, even though you want to tell him it’s okay. You hope that the way you squeeze his hand tells him that, though, because it’s true. It’s okay for him to cry, and you’re glad that, even if he tries hiding it around you, he feels safe enough to let the tears fall in the first place.

The rest of your breakfast is filled with mindless chatter, a few gossip strands weaving their way through an otherwise pleasant conversation. He learns that Amanda Weaver has been telling everyone he gave her a promise ring, but you’d seen her fish the plain silver band off of her keychain. 

“I don’t even know her,” He snorts, “And promise rings are dumb.”

Your nose wrinkles, “I don’t think so. They’re cute.”

“They’re pointless,” He insists, shoveling egg into his mouth, “Having a ring to chuck in the garbage is gonna hurt a whole lot more when they leave.”

“If.” You murmur.

“Hm?” He glances up at you, mouth full.

“If they leave.” You correct him quietly, “Some people stay.”

He’s frozen. Baby blues unblinking, he stares at you like a deer in headlights. You hold his gaze with your own steady one, waiting until his brain wraps around what you’re really trying to tell him: I’ll stay.

He’s quiet, for a long time. He keeps his eyes on his eggs, roving over every crease and hill in their structure. Then he mumbles so soft you can barely hear it, “Right.”

There’s a thousand things you want to say. A thousand promises you want to make, a thousand reassuring words you want to mumble against his skin so that they’re absorbed. But the not-so-nice blare of your kitchen timer kindly reminds you it’s time to get to school, and you settle for none at all.

“Shit,” You mumble, shoveling your last bite of melon into your mouth and standing, “I’ll get my-!” 

You glance back at him when you feel a tug, and he’s sitting in place, hand still entwined with yours. He’s cautious, frozen, and you melt into a smile, squeezing his hand.

“My bag.” You clarify, “Are we taking the bus, or walking to your place?”

“Let’s walk,” He decides, his hand never letting up in its grip on yours. It’s bold, it’s forward, it’s healing.

“Okay,” You grin, keeping your fingers tightly curled around Billy’s and tugging him up through the shared embrace, “Let’s go! I’ve gotta be on time today, we’re taking a quiz in first period.”

“We don’t have to go in, we can just get my car.” He lets you drag him to the living room, “The only thing I keep in my bag are cigarettes, anyways. I can bum a few.”

“Billy,” You scold, “Where do your papers go?”

“In the trash.”

“Nice,” You scoff, wincing as you step outside and the harsh sunlight hits your eyes. You fumble with your house keys, slipping them into the lock to close up the house, “I’m gonna buy you a binder. And you’re gonna put your school stuff in it, nice and neat, and you’re gonna carry a pencil, and you’re gonna bring water, and you’re gonna-”

“And you’re gonna fall,” He yanks on your hand, pulling you tight to his side as he points at a rock you’d been headed for, “Pay attention, clumsy.”

“Oh.” You flounder, his toned arm against your cheek as you struggle to right yourself, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” He flashes you a grin you’ve seen before, primarily aimed at his basketball teammates or a girl he’s chatting up. It’s confident, shit-eating, and it sends a wave of butterflies through your stomach.

The walk to his house isn’t terribly long. It’s a trek, for sure, but you’re there in under a half-hour, laughing all the while. Billy’s hand is still firmly gripping yours, and he’s funny, you remember, when he’s not crying.

“Dad’s not home,” He clocks the car missing from the driveway, “I can get mine and go.”

“Get your bag,” You order, face stern and brows scrunched, “And don’t throw away any of your school papers today!”

“No promises, babe,” He teases, his own key in his pocket as he jams it into the door. You’re thankful that he turns away to step inside so that he doesn’t see your eyes widen at the nickname, but you hope your hand doesn’t begin to sweat, or he’ll notice.

“Maxine?” He calls, shouting through the house. There’s no reply, and her sneakers aren’t by the front door, so you presume she’s not home.

“Probably skated,” Billy shrugs, “My bag’s in my room.”

He doesn’t have to drag you there, you know the way. You send a withering glare towards the room at the end of the hall, where you know Billy’s dad sleeps, as if it’ll cast a curse over the doorway and land him seven years of bad luck. You see the fireplace poker on your way, set neatly back in its place. There’s blood on it.

He changes quick, and you occupy yourself with the collection of tapes by his closet. He’d yanked your shirt right off of his head like you weren’t standing there, but when you’d turned with burning cheeks to give him some privacy, he hadn’t said anything.

Billy’s persistence on holding your hand is sweet, but surprising. The last thing you’d have expected from him was a clingy puppy-boy, but his head turns to track you whenever your hand nearly slips out of his own, and he wrestles with his bag one-handed instead of dropping the embrace. You’re just glad he’s finally holding onto something good in his life instead of pushing it away.

You think it’s a massive inconvenience that he can’t drive while holding your hand. He tries, at first, resting them on the center console, but when he changes lanes and almost overshoots it, you pry your hand out of his own.

“Two hands,” You laugh bashfully, “It’s okay, we- uh, later… later we can…”

“Later,” He turns his head to grin at you, a brilliant display as he slaps his now-free hand onto the wheel,  “Later’s good.”

Unfortunately, later gets pushed back a lot. When Billy pulls into the parking lot, the bell rings. He knows you’re going to be late for your quiz, so he doesn’t try to keep you, smiling softly, “Just go. See you in bio.”

Then between classes, you catch a glimpse of him in the hall. Your stomach starts acting up again, butterflies coming in droves, mind reeling with the thought of him grabbing your hand in public. He almost does, eyes widening as he catches sight of you, broad shoulders muscling everyone out of the way. But before he can reach you, a similarly-toned man steps up beside him, a basketball jersey slung over his frame.

He talks, and talks, and talks and talks and talks, all waving arms and loud jeering. Billy tries holding your gaze over his shoulder, nodding mindlessly along to whatever the boy is saying, but the warning bell rings and you send him a soft, defeated smile.

‘Later,’ You mouth, and his eyes dim when he nods.

Your efforts are futile at lunch, too. He has the class period before with a few of his friends, loud and brash, not your style. It means that you occupy your normal seat, a corner of a bench that the group to your left isn’t using, and tug out a book to entertain yourself. You feel his gaze burning against the side of your head, but if you get caught staring at him, his friends will turn it into some wild story about how you’re infatuated with him, and you’re not the type of person that makes that observation a compliment, at least, not to Billy’s friends. You almost hope he stops looking at you, too, because if they catch him staring, you don’t know how they’ll torment you.

It almost kills him to wait until you’re seated together in biology to reach for your hand. You’d never seen him arrive to class earlier than today, he’s even there before you are. He doesn’t bother to hide his staring, icy eyes tracking you from the second you walk through the door to the second you sit beside him.

You’re thankful that you’re officially seated together now, and you’re thinking that maybe you don’t hate group projects as much as you thought you did.

“Hey,” He murmurs, sliding his hand across the back of yours under the desk.

“Hey,” You hum, flipping your hand over to meet his palm-to-palm.

Everything seems right with the world again.

There’s a certain security you get from Billy’s touch, even if he probably gets more from yours. Having someone to hold grounds you, and you hope it does the same for him. It’s strange, feeling such a strong connection to someone you’d only started talking to days before, but you suppose that’s what happens when you remove all of the formalities of friendship. Your first sleepover just happened to be in an effort to keep him alive, not to eat junk food and watch movies.

You try to pay attention to the teacher, you really do. But she’s nowhere near as interesting as the soft scratching of Billy’s pencil on your paper, and you can’t help but watch as he writes.

You need a ride home?

You reach for your own pencil, scrawling your answer and sliding the paper to him in response

I can take the bus. You should take Max, she skated this morning.

He nearly breaks his pencil writing: She’s got tutoring after school today, she skates home anyways.

Okay, You decide, and you see him smile out of the corner of his eye as you write the word, Thanks, Billy.

He squeezes your hand, and he doesn’t need to write ‘You’re welcome’ for you to know it’s what he’s saying.

Biology typically drones on. You try to stay on top of your schoolwork, of course, but that doesn’t mean you enjoy it. The class is suddenly a lot less dreary with Billy beside you, and it becomes a game of stifling giggles. He steps on the toe of your shoe beneath the table, you tug at one of his curls. He crowds your space with his shoulder and nudges you to the edge of your seat, you let go of his hand to pinch at his thigh. He has to stifle a groan at that one, and to do so he thumps his head forwards on his desk, using the cool plastic against his forehead to quell his rugged laughter.

The thunk of his head against the desk alerts your teacher, and you sit up straight, eyes on your paper that’s covered in doodles as you try not to laugh. She scoffs, seeing Billy slumped over the desk, and probably assumes he’s fallen asleep. When she turns away, you elbow him, dipping your head down to where his rests on the desk to whisper in his ear.

“Cut it out,” You hiss, kicking his foot beneath the desk, “She almost saw!”

“Oh no,” He gushes, turning his head so that a sliver of his face shows, glinting with a shit-eating grin, “Do you think we’ll get in trouble?”

“It’s not funny!” You insist, keeping your voice as hushed as possible, “I’ve never been in trouble before, and if I get sent to the principal’s office, I’ll-”

“Y/L/N! Hargrove!” You stiffen at the voice of your teacher, your eyes widening where Billy’s only sparkle with excitement, “You two seem distracted. Anything on your minds?”

“Not mitosis.” Billy quips, straightening up from the desk and leaning back in his chair. He earns a few laughs from his scattered friends, and the teacher’s face hardens. Your stomach drops.

“You think you’re funny? You’re one missed homework assignment from failing this class. And now you’re dragging Y/N into this, too? Both of you, head to the front office. This ends here.”

There are tears burning at your eyes. You’re not the best student in the world. Hell, you’re not even in the top ten. But you’re not a bad one either, at best you slip through the cracks. You’ve never had disciplinary action taken against you, and gathering your things amongst the tense silence of your peers feels like a death sentence. 

Billy barely remembers to get his own bag, and he pointedly leaves his papers scattered over his desk. You scoop them up in your own handful, and he waits diligently by your side as you pick up your things. When you’re finally packed up he snatches your hand from where it’s hanging at your side, marching the both of you to the door.

He offers the teacher a very quaint, very polite middle finger as he drags you out of the door, and that’s what does it. The second the door shuts behind you, you burst into tears.

He looks up, alarmed at the sob you let out. The classroom you’d just exited has a row of windows that your back is facing, and he’s worried that if you turn slightly, your classmates will see you cry. As much as you’d told him it was okay to cry this morning, he’s sure you wouldn’t want your peers witnessing the meltdown you’re having. He acts fast, using your intertwined hands and yanking you into the nearest bathroom.

Your sobs echo off of the tile, and he pulls you haphazardly into his chest. Your head rests there pitifully, shoulders slumped as you cry.

“Jesus, okay,” He pants, peering under the few stalls in the back to make sure you’re alone, “What’s wrong?”

“I- I don’t know!” You do know, but it feels embarrassing to say it out loud, “I just- I’ve never been in trouble before, and it’s going on my-” You break to quell another sob, tamping it down in your chest, “Permanent record, and-!”

“Okay, calm down.” Billy scoffs, and you’re surprised to find that it’s not a derogatory one, but a fond one, “It’s fine. All we were doing was talking, it’s not like we were smoking weed in the bathroom.”

Your head shoots up and you recognize your surroundings. You glare at him suspiciously, “You don’t have any weed on you, right?”

“No!” He laughs incredulously, “I do not have any weed on me. Now,” He takes your shoulders in his broad hands, and your fingers go cold now that his aren’t intertwined with them anymore.

“You and I are gonna calm down,” He tells you, voice slow and steady. You’re the only one that needs to calm down, but you appreciate his cooperation.

“Then we’re gonna leave this bathroom, and do you know where we’re gonna go?”

“The front office,” You recite, but he breaks into a grin, shaking his head so that his curls fly.

“But that’s where she told us-”

“She can suck my dick.” Billy scoffs, “She made you cry. Forget her.”

“Billy, I can’t just forget her,” You insist, eyes wide and teary, “She’s our teacher!”

“Today’s Friday,” He reminds you, “She’s not our teacher again until Monday.”

“Fine. Where are we really going?” You look at him skeptically, raising your hand to wipe your nose against its back.

“Okay, first, ew.” Billy wrinkles his nose, yanking your hand away from your face and wiping it with a paper towel that he jerks out of the machine. He wipes your nose next, but he does it aggressively, smearing the paper towel against your face and pushing your head back until you’re laughing, trying to swat him away. The sound makes him smile, and it doesn’t fade as he continues talking.

“We’re gonna go see a movie,” He decides, hiking the strap of his bag higher up on his shoulder. Your face darkens slightly, goofy grin dimming.

“We can’t.” You protest softly, “She told us to go to the front office. You said it yourself, Billy, we were just talking. But if we ditch, we’ll be in more trouble, real trouble.”

“I’m always in trouble,” He huffs, “And you’re never in trouble. You really think this’ll be a breaking point for either of us?”

“What’s gonna happen when we don’t show up to the office?”

“They’ll give us detention.”

“We have to go, then!” Your eyes go wide, and you start for the door. He lunges for your hand, grabbing it just before you can push your way out, and this time he doesn’t drop it when he pulls you back inside.

“Detention means we’ll get to sit together for two hours and mess around.”

“No we can’t,” You scoff, “They monitor you. So we can’t just mess around.”

“Hey.” He snaps, begging your attention with those icy blue eyes of his, “Have you ever been in detention before?”

“No.” You admit quietly.

“Right. I have. They don’t care. They don’t want to be there, and they know we don’t either. They’re not gonna punish us any further, ‘cause then they’d just have to sit there with us for longer. Trust me, this will be fun.”

“Fun,” You groan, slumping forwards into his chest rather than covering your face with your hands. It’s a bold move, but a well-received one, and you feel his firm chest shake as he chuckles.

“Yes, fun.” He promises, “But if you really wanna walk up to that office and get lectured…”

“Billy,” You bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your head up so that your chin rests against his chest, “I.. I do. I’m sorry, I know you want to have fun, and- and you can go to the movies if you want! But I don’t want detention on my record. Even if it won’t do anything, I just- it sounds bad.”

“Okay.” He says, after a moment of tense silence. His grin fades, but he doesn’t scoff or push you away. He sighs dramatically, “You’re changing me, y’know. Normally I’d be halfway home by now, but you’ve got me hauling myself in to see the principal, this is bullshit.”

“I told you you could go to the movies!” You gush, laughing weakly at his dramatic display. He brings one of his large hands up to your face, smearing his rough thumb beneath your eyes and wiping away the sticky tear tracks there.

“No,” He sighs again, huffing and puffing, “I’m the one that got you in trouble, I’m not gonna ditch you. We’ll just suffer together.”

His words strike something in you. He’s chosen to change himself, to face consequences for his actions when he’d normally flee. You’re proud of him, so insanely proud that you decide to change yourself as well, and when he leads you towards the office by your intertwined hands, you turn sharply and drag him the other way.

“Wha- Woah.” His eyes widen as you yank him down the hallway, your feet slapping against the shitty linoleum flooring. You beeline for the door, bursting into the daylight with your adrenaline-pumped chest heaving. You come to a stop just outside the building, looking back at him with a thrill glowing in your eyes.

“What movie are we seeing?” You pant, and his grin reappears.

“You’re trouble.” He declares in a laugh, “Let’s go.”

Billy drives fast. This time it doesn’t seem like recklessness, though, but fun. The windows are rolled down, and wind whips through the car and ruffles your hair. His own blonde curls are flying, in his face and over his shoulders against the seat.

“Slow down!” You shriek, laughing through your words, “We’re gonna crash!”

“What are we gonna crash into,” He gestures to the empty road in front of you, all farmland and dust as the same laughter bleeds into his own voice, “A haybale? You want me to slow down so you can admire the scenery?”

There is no scenery. There’s fields, half-dead grass rolling on for miles and miles and passing by so fast that it looks like the sand on a beach. The sky is your ocean, blue and foamy white where clouds streak across it. You pass isolated barns, groves of trees, and-

“Cows!”

“What?”

“Cows! There’s cows up there,” You gush, pointing aggressively at the pasture, “Stop!”

“I can’t-! Uh, okay,” Billy rushes to step on the brakes, wheels screeching against the poorly-paved asphalt as he skids to a stop.

You’re surprised he doesn’t burn through his tires with how fast he stops. You’re out of the car before he can even turn to look at you, seatbelt long unbuckled in favor of dashing for the cows. They’re grazing aimlessly in their pasture, only a weak white fence standing between you and them.

“Hey- Hey!” Billy shouts, rushing to get himself out of the car. He’s panting slightly when he finally stands beside you, regarding you with an indignant look, “What the fuck was that about?”

“Cows,” You croon, sticking your hands over the fence and reaching for the animals, “Come pet the cows with me, Billy!”

One of them seems very interested in any potential snacks your hand might be hiding. Its large, wet nose bumps against your skin and you laugh, long and loud and free, letting the animal explore your scent and petting along its face when it finally realizes you have nothing yummy to offer it.

There’s damp bits of grass stuck to your arm from where its mouth nuzzles against you,, and its tongue is purple when it comes out to swipe along your skin. You shriek, the sound morphing into an elated giggle.

“Oh,” Billy’s nose wrinkles and he takes a step back, “Gross.”

“It’s not gross!” You insist, pulling your arm away to wipe the grass on your jeans, “That’s just what cows do. You’ve never pulled over to pet some?”

“No,” He scoffs, “That’s the most ‘country’ shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah,” You nod gleefully, and he thinks maybe you’ve misinterpreted the scathing tone of his voice, “Come on, Billy, come pet the cows!”

“No thanks,” He shakes his head, “I’m gonna go smoke in the car. Jus’ come back when you’re done.”

You let him head back to the car only for long enough to get a few more scratches in under the chin of a cow to your right. Then you beeline for the passenger’s side, and Billy looks surprised at your arrival.

“Done?”

“No,” You shake your head, reaching for your backpack, “I’m just getting my strawberries.”

“Uh,” Billy watches, apprehensive as you pull a plastic bag of the fruit from your backpack, “You’re not gonna feed those to the cows, are you?”

“Duh,” You nod, pulling the bag open and nearly ripping the seam, “Cows love strawberries, I feed ‘em all the time.”

“You what?” Billy looks at you like you’ve told him you’re made of the red fruit you’re holding, “You’re gonna stick your fingers next to those animal’s faces with food in your hands and you don’t think they’re gonna bite you?”

“No, Billy, cows don’t bite! Not like that,” You insist, hair flying as you shake your head. “I’m not gonna put my fingers in their faces, I’m gonna hold the strawberries on my palm. Then they can’t bite me. Come on, I’ll show you!”

“I’m not feeding cows,” Billy insists, but he moves to get out of the car anyway. When he’s standing at full height he rips the cigarette out from between his lips, blowing smoke into the road, “But I’m not gonna let you run off on your own and get mauled by some hunk of beef.”

“You’re totally gonna feed the cows,” You grin, eyes narrowed at him as you turn on your heel and head back to the fence, “You’ll see!”

You’re already jamming your hand under a cow’s mouth, a strawberry staining your palm red and sticky, when Billy saunters up to the fence. He watches warily as you let the cow nose at your fingers, then it sticks its tongue out to sweep the fruit off of your skin.

You giggle at the ticklish feeling, but Billy’s mouth falls open in horror.

“Oh,” He groans, nose scrunched and grimace strong, “That’s so fucking gross. Its tongue is purple.”

“It’s cool!” You insist, offering the cow a hearty rub between the ears as it munches on your strawberry, hand slimy with spit, “Is there much farmland in California?”

“A bit,” Billy shrugs, blissfully unaware of the curious cow sneaking up behind him as he’s turned towards you, leaning sideways on the fence. “It’s kind of a mix. We didn’t live anywhere near farmland, but sometimes we went to visit Susan’s-!”

Before he can tell you what random relative lived far out in the California farmlands, there’s a cow tongue in his ear.

He jolts away from the fence with a squawk, nearly toppling over as one hand comes up to cover his ear. You’re roaring with laughter even as you help steady him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his waist while he stumbles to a stop a few feet away from the fence.

“He was looking for strawberries,” You giggle, pulling your sleeve over your hand to wipe cow spit off of his cheek, “I think that was your official welcome to Indiana, Billy.”

“Laugh all you want,” He groans, smearing his own hand over his face to rid his skin of any residual slime you’d missed, “But if we ever make it to an ocean and you wipe out, I’m laughing at you.”

“Deal,” You grin sideways at him, another strawberry in hand.

Of course, Billy does end up feeding the cows. It takes another round of hand-holding, though, where you place the strawberry in his palm and flatten yours beneath it. 

“Just be patient,” You murmur, feeling Billy’s hand tense as the cow noses at his fingers, “He just wants to say hi.”

“We’ve been acquainted,” Billy drawls, grimacing once more as the cow licks the strawberry off of his palm, “He tried eating the thoughts out of my head.”

“What thoughts?” You tease, but before you can gauge the situation and figure out whether you need to start running or not, Billy flips his hand over his shoulder to where you’re standing pressed to his back, and smears his sticky palm across your face.

“Oh,” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut and nose scrunched. You stagger backwards, nearly colliding with his car,  “Gross!”

“Oh, really?” Billy roars with laughter, grabbing you around the waist and leaning his chin over your shoulder as he presses your back to his chest, “I thought it was an Indiana welcome! I thought it was cool!”

“Not when you do it!” You can’t help but laugh, trying desperately to hold the cracked pieces of your disgusted facade together, “You’re not as cute as a cow!”

You’re lying, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“And to think,” He scoffs, loosening his hold on you but not letting go completely, “I was gonna buy your movie ticket for you.”

You’d almost forgotten your movie adventure. You’d been so wrapped up in having fun with Billy, soaring down the streets with music blaring from the speakers that you’d completely ignored the way he’d driven miles away from any nearby movie theater.

“Hey, yeah,” You stiffen in his grip, turning your head to knock your forehead with his. You try not to pay attention to how close you two are, keeping your focus on his stunning blue eyes, “Why are we out here? The theater’s back that way.” You jerk your thumb behind you in the direction you’d came, and his face settles into a smirk once more.

“We’re not going to that shitty theater,” He boasts, “We’re going to a drive-in. It’s a few miles into the next town over.”

It makes sense, you suppose. He has a cool car, and what better place to show it off?

“I’ve never been to a drive-in,” You gush, excitement brewing in your belly, “What are the showtimes?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, finally letting you go to saunter back to his car and lower himself into the driver’s seat. You follow to the passenger’s side, tucking the empty plastic bag back in your backpack.

“We’ll catch something.” He reasons, hands finally back on the wheel as you shut your door and buckle your seatbelt, “People around here have nothing better to do, I bet there’s movies playing every hour.”

He gets started on the road once more, and you decide to let him drive uninterrupted. Although it hurts you to watch unpet cows whizz by the windows, you know you’ll be back too late if you keep stopping. When his tires crunch against gravel, then smooth over dirt, the unlit neon sign of the drive-in looms overhead. He leans out of the window at the counter, ordering a large popcorn and two sodas along with your tickets in that rough drawl of his.

He’s a bit rough when he stops on the asphalt, but that’s just how he drives. He’s used to driving recklessly, it’s not a habit easily broken. You hope you can help him live better, sending him a soft, sweet smile as he passes you your soda.

“This view good?” He glances over at you, hand already buried in the popcorn.

You nod emphatically, “Mhm! What movie?”

“No clue,” He lets out a huff of a laugh, “Does it really matter?”

“No,” You shrug, “‘Guess not.”

“It’s almost five,” Billy glances at his watch, “Are your parents gonna freak if you’re not home by dark?”

“They’re having dinner with friends tonight,” You recall relievedly, “They’ll probably be out way later than us. And they’ll just leave dinner in the fridge, they won’t know I’m gone.”

“Nice,” Billy nods, absentmindedly gnawing on a solid popcorn kernel, “My dad never goes out with friends. He doesn’t really have any, I don’t think. Susan does, work friends, but she’s probably not eager to show off her husband.”

He speaks about his dad with a bitter tone in his voice, words coming out brittle like they’ll snap if he tries putting any feeling into them. You hum in understanding; if your husband was like Neil Hargrove, you wouldn’t bring him around your friends either.

“You have friends,” You hum, “Don’t you ever eat out with them?”

“Uh,” He turns his head to stare expectantly at you, “Hello? Remember how I drove you a town over to see a movie, and I let you stop us halfway to stage a petting zoo?”

“I don’t mean me,” You gush, “Like, your other friends! The guys on the basketball team, or whoever you usually hang out with. That little crowd. You don’t go out with them?”

“Not really,” Billy shrugs, “They’re not my friends. Not like- um,” He drops his gaze to his lap, picking at the bucket of popcorn, “Not like you are.”

“Oh.” Is all you can manage, then you wet your throat to speak again, “They seem… no offense, shallow. Like- like they only talk about superficial stuff together. I’ve heard some of your conversations, I think.”

“Oh, so you’re updated on the riveting world of Hawkins High’s popularity pageant?” He scoffs, reaching for a cigarette, “Shit’s so stupid.”

“You say that from the top of the food chain,” You point out tentatively, “You don’t like it there?”

“It’s better than nothing.” He slows his attempts to self-medicate, hand frozen where he’s striking his lighter, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m not getting pushed into lockers. But, it’s like-” His fingers tighten slightly around the cig, jaw tight, “I got there because of what I have, not who I am. And not even that, I got there because of what it looks like I have. They think I’m some kind of rich kid ‘cause I have a nice car, but we’re lucky we don’t live in the trailer park. They think I’m mowing my way through the cheerleading team because they’ve seen us talking before. Sure, maybe I’ve flirted with a few, but-” His face darkens in frustration, nose scrunching slightly, “On the weekends, my dad makes me do shit around the house. And on the weekdays, I’m looking after my sister.” 

You don’t point out his slip-up, how in a fit of passion he’s dropped the ‘step-’. It’s nice to hear.

“I have no time to sleep around,” He chuckles darkly, disdainfully, “Not often. But because people like me, or- or like what they think of me, they just assume I’m selling myself out for it.”

“It’s bullshit,” He concludes, huffily so, “It’s all bullshit. And it’s not gonna last past high school.”

A tense silence falls over the car after he’s finished speaking. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised anymore, not after two days of emotional curveballs from the man, but you think it might be the most you’ve ever heard him speak.

He looks nervous, fiddling with the keys in his ignition. Before he can regret opening up, you reach out to take his hand, pulling it away from the keys and linking yours into it on his thigh.

“I’m glad I’m your friend, Billy.” You confess, equal parts honest and tender. You want the words to soak into his veins, flow through his bloodstream and bloom sweet blossoms inside that light up his dark world.

“Me too,” He breathes, eyes glued to your intertwined hands as he tightens his fingers into the grip. As if on cue, the movie screen lights up, and it’s just barely dark enough outside to see the film.

“Here we go,” You settle in your seat, keeping your hand securely in his own, “Popcorn?”

Billy uses his free hand to pass the bucket over, and you can feel the heat concealed by the thick paper bucket hovering just above your hands. You munch on the buttery snack, a kernel already lodged in your teeth.

To Billy’s slight disinterest, it’s an old romance movie. He should have known, all that ever plays at these movie marathon nights are romances and beach flicks. He has a fleeting thought that he’d rather be watching women in bikinis, but it seems like something he shouldn’t think while holding your hand, so he pushes it away and tries to focus on the grainy, black-and-white footage. 

The transatlantic accents and over-dressed main characters only hold his attention for a few minutes. But he’s family to Neil Hargrove, and he knows how to tune out a boring speech. He focuses more on the warmth that your hand pushes against his, sweet and soft and soothing like the blanket he used to get tucked in under at his grandma’s house. His grandma who knitted that blanket herself, just for him, and who slipped him strawberry sweets anytime his dad got too drunk to notice. And the way you hold his hand feels just like his mother used to, with her thumb stacked on his so that she could stroke it like you’re doing now. He’s only held his dad’s hand a few times, and he’s not able to remember much. He just remembers his mom had always dropped Neil’s hand in a big dramatic fashion, claiming that it was like holding a dead fish.

There’s nothing morbid about holding your hand, though. You’re not stiff and cold like his father, your fingers curve around his and mold to his skin. You not only reciprocate, you initiate, squeezing at a funny line or brushing over the back of his hand.

You’re all the best parts of the people he’s loved, and none of the bad parts of the ones he couldn’t. If he was any sleazier, he’d ask if it hurt when you fell from heaven.

You let out a particularly sweet laugh at a scene and the sound takes him back to only a few nights ago, sitting on his bed and feeling safe. He’d actually forgotten about his father until the man had stormed his bedroom, and he marvels at how you’d managed to suck the terrible thoughts from his head. 

Your study session puts mitosis in his mind. Then biology, and he wonders if there’s ever been two organisms more compatible with each other. Personally, he thinks your biology is pretty basic: you were made for him, and he was made for you. 

He’s broken out of his scientific reverie when your head falls to his shoulder. You throw a quick glance up at him through your lashes, silently begging for permission for something you’ve already done. His heart thuds in his chest as he watches you with curious eyes, and a slow nod of his head is all you need to settle against his side. You’re at an awkward angle, side arched over the center console to get your head to his shoulder. That makes it better, Billy thinks, that you had to work for it. It means you really mean it, that you’re not just doing it because it’s convenient. You’re loving him because you want to.

“Shitty movie,” Billy grumbles, his voice hoarse from its prolonged silence.

“Good popcorn,” You hum, reaching for another piece. Billy leans down to snatch it out of your hand with his teeth, and chews it with a growing grin as you chuckle. 

“You’re a monster,” You tease, and a word that his brain usually whispers at him past midnight, loathing in his thoughts and venom in his veins, becomes nothing more than a nickname.

He thinks he wants to be your monster if it makes you laugh like that, all teasing teeth and careful manhandling.

You’re almost afraid you’ve insulted him with the title until he leans his head against yours, neck bent at an angle. His ear is pressed to the crown of your head, and just in case he can hear your thoughts, you think extra hard: I love you.

You last longer than Billy had, but you lose interest in the film, too. It’s not that it’s boring, it’s just not particularly interesting, and your brain is moving too slow for you to concentrate on careful dialogue. Apparently, the excitement of the day has caught up with you. Your eyes are starting to droop, and you think Billy might be able to feel your lashes flutter against his bicep. If he can, he doesn’t say anything, he just stays curled around you in his seat.

Slowly, second by second, minute by minute, you fall asleep. You drift away from the world and all that remains is Billy’s arm against your cheek, his hand holding yours. You don’t know if you’re fully sleeping or not, all you know is that Billy is the one constant between your life and your dreams.

Billy feels your breathing even out, the soft puffs of air that hit his arm soft and consistent. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but he lifts his head to peer at your face, seeing that you are, in fact, asleep.

He has the strongest urge in the world to kiss your forehead. He doesn’t, half because he’s scared you’ll wake up and think he’s a creep, and half because he’s not sure he’s capable of loving back. He’s taking it slow, and he’ll stick with leaning his head on you. 

He does that until the movie’s almost over, and the romantic climax is shining on the screen.

The woman has fallen asleep on the man’s shoulder. They’re not in a car, they’re on a park bench, but her nose is nudged up against his bicep, too, and their hands are intertwined.

The man reaches up to her cheek, and so does Billy.

His hand is warm and slightly rough against the soft skin of your cheek, but it’s his warm breath against your face that wakes you. Your lashes flutter open, and the only thing you can see are Billy’s pretty blue eyes. You’re almost startled, almost caught off-guard, and then you notice the dark flecks of insecurity in them, ridged between peaks of blue like ocean waves. 

He can’t speak. He’s paralyzed, eyes unblinking against your own, unable to ask, to tell, to beg. All he can do is stare, and hope that his hand isn’t shaking against your cheek.

He licks his lips, and you know what he’s trying to muster up the courage to do.

“Billy,” You breathe, soft and careful, “Are you sure?”

He manages to hum questioningly, but it’s a choked sound from somewhere deep in his throat.

“You’re speeding again,” You let out a breathy chuckle, but you raise your hand to hold his to your face, “Is this because you want me or because you think you’ll never get the chance to have me again?”

“I want you,” Billy murmurs, and the man on screen echoes his sentiments.

The woman on screen leans in, and so do you.

The kiss you share is unlike anything Billy’s ever felt. What he’s used to is prodding tongues, nipping teeth, below-the-belt grabbing, but this is new. This is the soft, dewy sweetness of lips barely touching, and the watermelon balm spread over your mouth. It’s tender in the way that you hold his hand to your cheek, and only made more so by the fact that you’re still holding hands between the seats. It’s less of an active kiss and more of an embrace, lips holding each other in place and noses bumping.

Billy’s never felt safer letting his eyes drift shut. At night there’s always the possibility that his dad will unlock the door in the middle of the night and take out insomnia-fueled rage on him. In his car he’ll get arrested for loitering. Now there’s nothing but you, and that’s all he ever wants there to be.

There’s muted claps from the other cars around you as the movie ends, and you choose to attribute the closing scene of fireworks to your kiss and not the leads’. When you draw away it’s with soft, content sighs, awestruck and breathless.

“I want you too, Billy.” You vow, more than happy to let him know he’s loved, “I’m glad we didn’t go to the front office.”

“Me too,” Billy breathes, leaning in to brush his lips against yours one last time, just holding them there as his fluttering eyes stare into yours.

The sound of revving engines breaks you out of your trance, and Billy pulls away from your face to look over your head. He’s still got his hand on your cheek, and you’re cradled to his chest as he watches everyone around you disperse.

“Let’s head home,” You murmur into his collarbones, kissing the skin there chastely, “You can stay the night at my house again, if you want.”

“I should get home,” He admits reluctantly, “My dad is probably still freaked about last night.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go back,” You hum, tracing the outline of a bandage through his shirt against his stomach.

“Me too,” He sighs, and finally lets your face go when the overhead lights to the lot flick on, “But we’ll get out soon.”

“Oh? Where are we going?” You settle back in your seat, turning to face him with curious eyes.

“California,” He smiles, and his genuine one is a breathtaking sight, “And anywhere you want to stop along the way.”

“That sounds perfect,” You sigh happily, head leaning comfortably back against the headrest. A yawn breaks through your lips and scrunches up your face, and Billy has to fight himself so that he doesn’t pull over and kiss the lines near your mouth.

The silence in his car is peaceful now, serene. There’s nothing left unsaid anymore, nothing hidden in your eyes and nothing withheld in your touches. You drift off to sleep wishing you were still holding Billy’s hand, and when you wake up, you are.

“Hey,” He whispers, squeezing your hand where his is interlocked with it, “Hey, wake up. You’re home now, we’ve gotta get you inside.”

“Hm? Oh,” You hum, bleary eyes taking in the outline of your house against the harsh beams of Billy’s headlights. “Thanks, Billy.”

“Uh-huh,” He nods, offering you a hand after you undo your seatbelt, “C’mon, if you can stand, I’ll carry you up to bed.”

You;re more than happy to let him sweep you off of your feet. He can feel your smile as you bury it in his neck, and he doesn’t even worry about shutting his car off and locking it before he pushes open your front door. Sure enough there’s tinfoil covered dinner on the counter alongside a note from your parents, and Billy marvels at how well they take care of you even when they’re not home. 

“To the right,” You instruct him, realizing he’s only ever gotten into your room from the window outside, “And it’s the second door down.”

“Got it,” He murmurs, chin bumping your cheek.

Your bed is still unmade from that morning, and he yearns to slip beneath the covers again. He’s jealous when he tucks you in, and you’re glad you wore comfy clothing to school so that you can burrow under your blankets and not worry about changing.

“Goodnight,” Billy leans down, an inch away from your face, “Can I…?”

You lean up to do it for him, pushing your lips against his once more.

He melts into it, and the way that your nails scratch the hair at the base of his scalp only makes it worse.

“Goodnight,” You mumble, words wonky and misspoken against his lips, “I had fun today, Billy. I’m glad we’re friends, and I’m glad we’re more.”

“Me too,” He agrees, and the sentiments he’s agreeing to feel foreign to him. Five days ago he’d have been the least likely person on earth to have a friend, and now he’s got a partner to boot. In every sense of the word, he loves you, even if he won’t say those three words yet.

“Please be safe,” You cup his cheek, stroking over his slightly bruised cheekbone with tenderness he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to, “And if he hurts you again, stay with me instead.”

“I will,” Billy promises, dotting a dewy kiss to the side of your mouth as you settle into sleep, content with his safety.

He tells himself he’s just puttering around, throwing a stray sock into the laundry hamper and straightening a book he’d nearly knocked off of your nightstand on the way in. But really he’s waiting to make sure you’re really asleep, ring already slipped off of his finger and growing sweaty in his palm.

Once he’s sure you won’t wake, he peels back the covers on your bed, taking your hand in his. It’s got a familiar weight to it, a fact that he mentally celebrates, and his fingers shake as he slides the metal band onto your finger.

Having a ring to chuck in the garbage is gonna hurt a whole lot more when they leave, he reminds himself. Then, ‘If’.

“If they leave.” Your soft voice rings in his ears, and as he treks back to his car, revving the engine in the silvery light of the moon, there’s a feeling he’s never felt before rising in his chest. Hope: “Some people stay.”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

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simmer down

billy hargrove x f!reader

masterlist • requests are open! • read on ao3

summary: being tommy hagan’s sister had it’s perks, but when the new kid from California catches your attention, it seems like more of a curse than a good thing

warnings: 18+ minors dni, Steve x Reader, underage drinking, partying, smut, p in v, angst, Billy is a mystery, Steve/Nancy, slow burn, forbidden romance

Being Tommy Hagan’s sister had its advantages. Your freshman year of high school, you had a guaranteed spot with the cool kids and an invite to every party. Tommy wasn’t protective by any means. You two were buddies, you and Carol were buddies and of course, you and Steve Harrington were buddies. Freshman year was a blur, until Nancy ripped Steve away from the group. Still, the three of you were determined to keep the good times rolling. Sure, you spent every single Saturday, Sunday and Monday hungover but it was worth it. You think.

Maybe you didn’t remember the parties very well but hell, you knew you’d had fun. Plus, you were lucky enough to lose your virginity to the King on your fifteenth birthday and even if he pretended you didn’t exist once he started dating Nancy, it was worth it. Okay, so you weren’t totally over Steve but you were coping just fine. Carol didn’t let you mope for long. There were too many parties to go to.

Then one day, Steve Harrington is pushed to the very back door of your mind. Perched on your brother’s car, sharing a cigarette with him and his girlfriend, a pretty blue Camaro whips through the parking lot and slides into the parking spot across from you. A small, angry redhead bolts out, slamming the door and zips up to the middle school on a skateboard. Every head in the parking lot is turned to the muscle car and the gorgeous, denim-clad, mulleted blonde motherfucker. He takes your breath away. Takes Tommy and Carol’s breath away. The guys dripping in cool. Not another person like him has stepped foot in this midwestern hell hole. The three of you can’t wait to sink your claws in him. He flicks his cigarette away, a small hint of a smirk curling his lips and your eyes follow the Marlboro as it tumbles to the ground. The fucking guy didn’t even smoke half of it. The nicotine fiend in you is tempted to snatch it up, but that’s like, super uncool.

You watch as Tina and her girls eyes linger on the stranger, practically salivating at the way his ass looks in his jeans. It must take at least ten minutes for the fucker to pull his pants up.

“Who the hell is that?” Carol wonders aloud for the group.

“One bitchin’ dude,” Tommy scoffs, an impressed tilt to his voice.

;;;

Tommy moves fast. You know this. He had an easy way about him, friendly even though he was the biggest asshole you knew. That blue Camaro is parked on the curb in front of your house. Your parents are outside, doing the yard work necessary to prepare for the cold front sweeping in. Your whole life was spent in Hawkins so you know nothing else but god, do you yearn for year long summers.

You were eager to listen to the new record you’d just bought. A quick wave to your parents and you’re opening the front door, flooded with the sound of Metallica’s The Four Horsemen. Tommy’s pulled out his only metal album to impress the new kid. The feeling in your gut isn’t new. You used to get the same excited feeling whenever Steve was over. However, this was different because Steve knew you. He watched you grow up. You’d known him since you were little. This new guy hasn’t played Barbie’s with you from the age eight to twelve.

You take a deep breath before heading towards Tommy’s room, leaning against the doorframe. Tommy’s head banging obnoxiously, Carol is checking her nails looking bored and the blonde boy is nodding his head along to the bass line. He’s got a cigarette pinched to between his fingers and as he’s bringing the filter to his lips, he sees you.

He takes a drag, smirks and says, “Hey.”

You’ve never loved your brothers ability to make friends more.

“Hi,” you try to say in the coolest way you can.

Tommy pauses his thrashing and motions to you, “Oh, Billy! This is my sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy’s sister,” he drawls.

You tell him your name, awkwardly lingering in the doorway before Carol’s tugging you inside.

“Whatcha got in the bag?” Billy asks, fingers pressing to the brown paper.

You swallow, “Uh, just a record.”

“Which one?”

You pull out the cellophane wrapped vinyl, displaying the copy of Out of the Cellar by Ratt you’d just excitedly purchased with your allowance.

“Oh, fuck yeah! Atta girl,” he cheers as he snatches it out of your hand.

The praise causes a flutter downstairs. Five minutes into meeting this fucking guy and you’re already a puddle. The excitement at impressing him is unmatched.

Billy shimmies around you, places a strong hand on your hip as he passes to stop the Metallica record and replace it with your new one. You plop down on the floor next to Carol, eyes drawing back up to Billy as he turns the volume up, cigarette hanging between his lips. He bobs his head, his earring dangling against his wispy curls and you don’t like feeling this arousal while in the same room as your brother and his girlfriend.

“Did you see Steve with the princess today? Ugh, gag me with a spoon,” Carol nudges your knee while mimics gagging herself.

Billy snorts, “What’s the deal with that guy? People kept telling me I was gonna be the new King, whatever the fuck that means.”

Tommy chimes in, “He used to be the King. We were good buddies until he started sticking his dick in the priss.”

“Steve’s nice,” you shrug. Only Carol knows what happened between the two of you and you’d sworn her to secrecy, too embarrassed to let your brother know you’d fallen for his best friend. She gives you a pointed look before rolling her eyes.

“He used to be cool, now he’s nice,” Tommy deflects, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He pulls a beer of the sixer and tosses it to you, which you fumble to catch.

You tap your nail on the tap, trying your best to rid the memories of Steve kissing you late at night from your head. You know if you glance over to Billy, they’ll dissipate but then you’ll be imagining kissing him and you don’t want that either.

“So where’d you move from?” you ask, not looking up from the beer.

Billy sits next to you with the thud, his knee knocking yours which absolutely does not shoot heat to between your legs. He lifts his can to you, indicating he’d like to cheers you. Sometimes Tommy’s friends did things like this with you and while he wasn’t protective of you, he made you promise that friends were out of the question. You could not hook up with any of them. Acquaintances were fine and while Billy was only that right now, you know Tommy wanted to be good buddies with him so you were awaiting the conversation. You were getting ahead of yourself. A cheers does not mean Billy’s attracted to you.

“California,” he replies as you clink aluminum cans. “Much better than this shithole.”

“You’re telling me,” Carol whines, “I fucking hate this place.”

Billy drops his cigarette in the empty beer can sitting in the middle of the floor, apparently the designated ashtray. He leans his head back to look at you, “What’s there to do here?”

You feel shy under his gaze, almost choking on your swig of beer once your eyes meet his. You clear your throat and swallow hard, “Uh, parties, mostly. Hang out in the woods. Go to convenience stores.”

“Ah. I expected more hick shit. Ya know, tipping cows, shooting guns, kissing cousins,” Billy chuckles, biting his lip as his eyes dart between your brother and his girlfriend.

“Carol knows about kissing cousins,” Tommy sneers, throwing his girlfriend under the bus.

“Do you have to tell everyone?” she hurls a rolled up sock at him. She turns to Billy, “He’s exaggerating. We’re not even blood related.”

Billy laughs, a cackle that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can’t help but giggle. You’d heard the story a million times. Carol was at a family reunion and didn’t even realize the guy was a distant cousin. However, shit, it’s a family reunion. Who’s trying to get their rocks off at a family reunion?

“You guys smoke grass?” Billy changes the subject and the three of you nod in unison. “Know where I can get some?”

“Eddie “The Freak” Munson,” Tommy tells him, “I think I have some, though. Hold you over in the meantime.” He gets up and sifts through his sock drawer, returning with a tied off ziploc bag to hand to Billy.

“And now,” Billy takes it and shoves it in his pocket, “We’re best buds.”

Tommy beams at the declaration. And with those words, Billy Hargrove has just become verboten. Damn it.

Tommy tells you as much when Billy leaves, rattling off about his dad being an asshole and he’s got to get home before he does.

“I saw those eyes,” Tommy raises a scolding finger at you, “Don’t even try it. He’s too cool.”

“Aw, Tommy,” Carol pouts, “Let her have some fun.”

“No,” you raise your hands defensively, “You didn’t see any eyes. I don’t even think he’s cute.”

Tommy scoffs, “Yeah, right. Even I think the guy is hot.”

Carol raises an eyebrow, “You going queer on me, big boy?”

“Me? Queer?” Tommy laughs, “Let me show you how untrue that is.”

“Okay, ew, I’m leaving,” you push yourself off the ground and run out of the room, closing the door behind you.

;;;

“Does Tina throw bitchin’ parties?” Billy asks you, taking a drag off his cigarette before passing it.

You take it and try to ignore the tingling feeling on your lips as you take a hit. You’re leaning against the trunk of his Camaro, Carol and Tommy are nearby but too busy making out to listen to the conversation.

“I guess?” you reply, “All the parties here kind of bleed together. They’re fun and all, just… the same thing.”

Billy looks over to your brother with his tongue down Carol’s throat, “They do that all the time, huh?”

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” you shrug.

“What about you?” he turns slightly towards you, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

You can feel the way your cheeks redden, “I don’t know. No one’s really caught my attention, I guess.”

“Is he protective?”

You shake your head, “No, the opposite. Tommy doesn’t give a shit what I do. I just haven’t met anyone I like in that way.”

“Yeah,” Billy muses, “I know the feeling.”

That catches your attention. Every girl at Hawkin’s High is throwing themselves at him but not a single one special enough to tickle his fancy. You included.

“I’m young, anyways,” you deflect, “I have plenty of time to find the man of my dreams.”

“Oh, yeah?” Billy digs his canine into his lower lip, “What’s the motherfucker you’ve dreamed up like?”

You, you don’t say. “Oh, I don’t know!”

“You’ve thought about it. Is he nice, like King Steve?” Billy raises his eyebrows, “Is he a freak like Munson?”

No, he’s blonde with a mullet and pretty eyelashes.

“He hasn’t made himself known yet,” you urge, “Maybe he’s a millionaire, maybe he’s a rockstar.”

“You want Vince Neil?” he knocks he elbow into yours.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you shrug.

Billy cackles, “All you chicks are the same.”

You scoff, “Oh and guys aren’t? Like you’re not pining over Lita Ford.”

“Nah,” he laughs, “Not my thing.”

“What is your thing then?” you ask, eyes meeting briefly before you can’t handle the heat of them. Billy’s eyes are too pretty. The bluest you’ve ever seen.

“Someone real,” he says, sincerely and it tugs your heartstrings.

“Billy, the romantic,” you tease, shoving your hands in your pocket.

“Far from it, sweetheart,” he pats your shoulder before pushing himself off the bumper and heading into the building as the bell rings.

Sweetheart drips down your throat and curls around your heart.

;;;

It’s not much of a costume. It’s a short skirt, fishnets and a too tight top. You can say you’re Madonna but how many girls are going as Madonna. You just want to look hot. Want Billy to look at you like you’re more than Tommy’s little sister. Like you’re some video vixen and he just cannot keep his hands to himself. It’s a flourishing thought that you push deep down. Tommy can’t control you but you think of the conversation you’d hand the day before. Billy isn’t into you. He had the opportunity to say something and he didn’t. And one thing you’ve learned about boys your age is if they want it, they’ll make it known.

“Are you ready yet?” Carol’s asking as she peers into your bedroom. You scan her outfit up and down, you think maybe she’s channeling Madonna as well but you can’t pin exactly what she’s dressed as.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, fixing the smeared lipstick.

“Yeah, just about,” you mumble, reapplying your mascara.

“Billy’s meeting us there,” she sings, grinning wide at you in the mirror.

You roll your eyes, “Carol, he’s off limits and even if he wasn’t, I don’t like Billy like that.”

“Sure,” she purrs, slapping the doorframe, “Vamoose, pretty girl. I wanna get wasted.”

Tommy’s a bad driver. He was also drinking before he left so he’s even worse, by the time you get to the party you feel like you’ve already got the spins. You hold onto Carol’s wrist to ground yourself and Billy’s rushing up behind the two of you.

“Boo!” he shouts, pressing a hand to your lower back.

Carol shrieks but you’d seen him coming. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling the two of you two his chest. He reeks of whiskey and Marlboro Reds. Seems like Billy had a bit of pregaming himself.

“Hi, Billy,” the two of you sing in unison.

Tommy barrels around the car, running up from behind to jump onto Billy’s back which causes all of you to tumble to the ground. Carol screams, scolding Tommy about ruining her hair but you’re distracted by the laugh erupting from Billy, his lips so close to your ear you can feel his breath fanning against it. It makes you tingle all over and you desperately want to grab him and pull him closer, want to press your lips to his in a hungry kiss. Then it’s gone, he’s up from the ground with Tommy pulling him towards the keg and Carol’s reaching her hand down to you.

You stumble along with her and when you’re reaching the keg, Billy’s pumping it and filling cups for you and Carol.

“You’ve got to beat Steve’s record, Billy! Come on,” Tommy urges his friend, hands clasped tight around his shoulders.

You stand over by Carol and Tina, watching the way the brunette fucks Billy with her eyes. A pang of jealousy surges through your stomach but you chug from the red Solo cup to drown it out. You sway along with the Motley Crüe song, unable to stop your eyes from scanning the crowd for familiar chestnut hair and brown eyes. Carol must notice because she grabs your face and turns it to look at Billy. She wants you to get over Steve just as badly as you do. You notice Billy’s costume, you think he’s going for terminator but it’s laid back. An homage rather than a costume. His abs look nice, you imagine what they must feel like. Carol’s a good friend.

They lift Billy up, he bites around the tap and makes eye contact you for a brief second before beer is flooding into your mouth. He easily beats Steve’s record. Seems like he could’ve gone longer but the second he beats it, they’re pulling him down. He spits the foam out, beer dripping down his chin to his chest and it’s… a sight. They funnel inside but you stick by Carol.

“God, he’s so yummy,” Tina gushes, turning to you and Carol.

Carol agrees excitedly, winks at you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Tina.

“What? Did you call dibs already?”

“God, no,” you say, a little too defensively. “I just have eyes and Carol wants to live vicariously through me. It’s not happening.”

“Well, I’m definitely not holding back,” Tina quips.

You imagine the two of you as cats, tails high and backs arched, ready to pounce.

“Go for it,” you shrug, holding your beer close to your chest.

You retreat first, heading inside in search of a better time. A spiked punch is in your future. It’s only slightly dampened when you see Nancy downing cup after cup in the kitchen, Steve upset and asking her to cool it. He doesn’t even notice your presence and that’s totally fine. You’re a fly on the wall like you usually are around him. Steve reaches for her cup again and they struggle for power until the force of their hands pulls the cup back and spills the sticky red punch all over her white sweater. Everyone reacts in shock and you have to still your mouth from the smile threatening against your lips as you quickly avert your attention.

When they flutter away, you copy Nancy. Downing as many cups as you can before you start to feel numb. Seeing Steve was a shock to your system. All prior feelings rush to the forefront of your brain and you want to find him, pull him into a empty bedroom and kiss him from head to toe. It’s a shame when you see him and Nancy lock themselves away in a bathroom. You linger, clutching your drink to your chest as you watch drunk teenagers dance the night away. Nancy doesn’t deserve Steve. He shouldn’t have to change to be with her. You liked Steve the way he was.

Steve opens the door and slams it behind him, he pushes passed out, shoulders colliding and when he turns to look at you, you notice tears in his eyes. The brunette is quick to swivel back around, stomping outside and you wonder what in the hell just happened in there. Half of you is tempted to follow him outside, offer comfort in whatever way you can but then you feel large, strong hands wrap around your waist. You tilt your head back to see Billy standing behind you with a drunk smile plastered on his face, his eyes are tinted red like he’s been smoking more than cigarettes.

He leans down, lips close to your ear so he can whisper, “Why are you hiding from us?”

“Hiding? I’m not hiding,” you argue, lifting your cup to explain further, “Where is everyone?”

“Backyard,” he smirks, releasing his grip and stumbling towards the sliding glass door.

He turns his head briefly to make sure you’re following him.

Tina’s backyard is trashed. You can’t imagine what the cleanup is going to be like tomorrow. As soon as you step out the door, Billy grabs your hips again and urges you to the left. You look down and see what looks like five smashed beer bottles, right outside the door. You mumble a thank you before wiggling out of his grip. The last thing you need is for Tommy to see it. The blonde guides you over to the group and you collapse down next to your brother and Carol.

“Steve and Nancy just got in a fight,” you tell them before bringing your cup to your lips.

Carol raises her eyebrows and leans closer, giving you a look you know all too well. You quickly shake your head, slouching your shoulders and trying to sink away from her gaze. Tommy lets out a cackle, leaning his body back with it.

“We heard, he threw punch on her?”

“Well, no, he didn’t throw it on her, it just spilled,” you explain, watching in your peripheral how Tina leans her body against Billy’s and whispers in his ear. Immediately, your stomach turns but you ignore it. There’s no way you could be jealous, you don’t even know the guy yet and you’re going to make sure you don’t stew on how attractive he is. You know how mad Tommy will be and besides, your brother isn’t exactly loyal to you. You imagine if you did make a move on Billy and he rejected you, Tommy wouldn’t stop hanging out with him. Or god forbid, he doesn’t reject you but instead breaks your heart and Tommy would still pick Billy’s side. You know this about your brother.

“But they went into the bathroom and I guess argued, because Steve came storming out and he looked like he was crying,” you continue, picking at a loose thread on your skirt.

Tommy snorts, “I knew they wouldn’t last long.”

Carol nods along with him, “She’s too prissy for Steve. I bet the argument was something stupid too.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, allowing yourself to turn slightly and just in time to catch Tina shoving her tongue down Billy’s throat. You’re quick to turn back to your brother and Carol.

“You guys wanna leave soon?” Carol asks, you know she’s trying to be casual but only asking to save you the displeasure of watching Billy and Tina make out for the rest of the night.

“Yeah, I’m pretty over it,” you admit, stretching your arms up.

Tommy scoffs, “You guys are so boring. It’s still early.”

It is, you don’t even feel drunk yet but you are bored and too many unpleasant feelings are swirling around you. If you get any more alcohol in you, you’re libel to throw yourself at Steve, or worse, Billy.

“This party kind of blows, though,” Carol argues and wraps her arms around Tommy, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she said has him grinning and jumping to his feet. You’d rather not know.

;;;

You’re sitting in study hall, trying to stay awake when a note lands on your desk. You turn and see Steve failing at trying to look innocent, he fake coughs in his hand while stretching his opposite arm up and then back down. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quickly looks away, a hint of smile on his lips. You unfold the note and see Steve’s messy handwriting scrawled lopsided on the top of the page.

Wanna listen to my Abba record?

You stare at it a little dumbfounded, because it was an inside joke between the two of you. It was his lame way of trying to get you alone at one of his parties. It was only the second time you guys had ever messed around and as your relationship continued, it became something Steve would say just to make you blush or laugh. Worse, though, it turned into a code for sneaking away to hook up. His fight with Nancy must’ve been more serious than you thought. This was Steve’s olive branch, and it was sleazy but it was also romantic, unfortunately.

You write back in neat, straight handwriting, Right here in study hall?

You carefully slide the paper onto his desk and turn back to your textbook. From the corner of your eye, you see Steve grinning wide as he reads what you’ve wrote before furiously writing and handing it back.

Is that a yes?

It’s a maybe. I don’t think Mr. Delfin would appreciate it.

Fair enough. The albums at my house anyway. After school then?

You chew on your bottom lip. It would be very easy to fall back into this but you have plans with your brother, Carol and Billy. However, the prospect of being alone with Steve seems way more appealing. And you can’t help yourself, you think about Steve more than you think about anything else. You absolutely miss touching him and you’ve been rather frustrated since he started going out with Nancy.

Meet me in the library after school.

;;;

You made some dumb excuse to Carol about having to work on a class project in the library. She bought it but tried to insist on you ditching it entirely to get to know Billy better. Which you knew Carol was aware you wouldn’t go for.

When Steve walks up to you, you’re standing at the window. He leans against the wall and looks at you quizzically.

“Whatcha doing?”

You watch as Tommy and Carol pile into his car and drive off, the blue Camaro following after them and you say to Steve, “Just making sure it’s… safe. Okay, let’s go.”

Steve let’s out a scoff, “Don’t want them to see you with me?”

You crane your head sideways as you look up at him, “I’m ditching them for you. They’d be mad.”

Steve nods his head, pursing his lips like he can taste your words. You keep your hands to yourself on the walk to his BMW, you’d learned to do as much when you guys were fooling around. Steve talks a lot on the drive to Loch Nora. None of it really makes much sense, or is important but you like listening to his voice. It’s adorable, he stutters every so often and rambles on, losing his thought and then rushing into a completely new thought. The reason you like it so much is you’ve seen Steve hit on girls throughout the years and weirdly enough, this is how he does it so you feel special when it’s directed at you.

His house is empty, it usually is but what always shocked you was how clean it was. A teenage boy lived there alone for eight months of the year, you expected it to be messy but then again, you’re sure they have a cleaning lady coming often. Steve leads you up the stairs and to his bedroom. It smells clean, like laundry detergent and his cologne. Your stomach is doing flips at the familiarity of it all, you’ve been in this exact position many times before and you’re anticipating his next moves. As you sit on his bed, Steve wraps his hand around your hip and lays you on your back. You shyly smile up at him, the weight of his body makes you tingle all over and his big, brown eyes look into yours. There hasn’t been a night in months that you haven’t pictured this exact moment happening, ushering you to sleep and hopefully dream of Steve.

He pushes tucks your hair behind your ear as he cracks a smile, teeth bright and white while his cheeks flush just a smidge. You want to tell him how much you’ve missed him but him and Nancy have only been broken up a couple of days, you know what this is. That’s your downfall, though, you’ll bend over backwards to have Steve. When his lips caress yours, a small moan rises up your throat involuntarily. It’s a soft, sweet kiss and he gently holds your cheek as he does it. Your fingers snake into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer so you can deepen the kiss. Steve takes things slow, he always did and you’ve always been bursting at the seams, eager for more. You drag your tongue against his lower lip, begging for entrance and he allows you easily. Your body lights up, feels like you’re on fire when he grinds just barely on top of you. His thigh between your legs presses against your center and it makes your head feel heavy, falling apart beneath him. Steve’s like a drug and you’ve been sober for far too long. Your desperation makes you feel antsy, you want things to progress much faster than they are but Steve is stubborn, he sets the pace. He’s different than any other man you’ve been with, he’ll kiss you until your jaw hurts and you’re trembling. That seems to be his intent now because when you try to pull away from it, he grabs your jaw and kisses you harder. You whimper against his lips, wriggling your hips to demonstrate how badly you need him.

Steve pulls back and smiles down at you, stroking his thumb along the apple of your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

You flush, grinning from ear to ear as you avert your eyes, unable to hold eye contact. With a giggle you tell him, “So are you.”

He lets out a small, breathless laugh, “Thank you.”

Steve places kisses along your jaw and down your neck, he licks against your skin but he’s always been careful not to leave any marks. Back when you two were fooling around regularly, you weren’t so careful with him and you’d litter his neck and chest with love bites. Steve could always explain them away much easier than you could.

He continues kissing against your collarbone as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. You inhale sharply, goosebumps rising all over your skin when his fingers brush against your now exposed stomach. Steve’s lips descend once he gets your blouse completely undone, brushing them against the curve of your breast. This is the area he doesn’t hold back, sucking and biting gently at the tender skin until it’s raw and sore. You know you’ll have a bruise there by the end of the night but you don’t mind. It’ll be proof this isn’t a dream. In sync, you prop up on your elbows as Steve leans back and reaches around to unclasp your bra. You dispose of the blouse and bra before reaching for the hem of Steve’s polo and pull it over his head. You smooth your hands over his head before he leans down and licks at your perked nipple, his Bambi eyes looking up at you curiously. You whine, arching into the touch as your eyes flutter shut. For a moment, you picture blonde curls and blue eyes but quickly push the thought away as shame begins spreading through your stomach. You try not to think about it too much, not willing to admit even to yourself that you want Billy in that way.

“Steve,” you pant out, for good measure.

He sucks your nipple between his lips as he hand moves to squeeze and knead at your other breast. Another moan falls out of your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and knit your fingers into his hair. He grazes his fingertips across your neglected nipple and laps against the other. It’s intoxicating, you focus on his soft his hair feels between your fingers. Your thighs tingle as heat surges through your stomach and straight to your core. It’s quiet in the house, in the room, the only sound is Steve’s mouth on your and your paired labored breathing.

When he moves back up to crash his lips into yours and press his body close, you feel his cock hard in his jeans against your navel. He grunts softly against your lips moving both his hands to grip your jaw as he licks into your mouth eagerly. This is unlike Steve, he usually doesn’t express desperation until he’s already inside of you. It gets your hopes up, like maybe he’s been missing you just as badly as you’ve been missing him. And maybe that’s wishful thinking but in this moment, you’ll take it. You grab onto his waist and writhe up against him, letting him know you’re just as needy.

Steve pulls back from the sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as his hands lower and he’s making quick work getting your jeans and panties down to your ankles. They hang awkwardly there, your tennis shoes are still on but you're really liking the frenzy of it all. Steve props himself on his knees and does the same with his jeans and briefs, pushing them down to his knees as his long cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. God, you’ve missed the sight of it, your mouth waters as you breathe heavy. Memories of the way it felt in your mouth flood your mind, causing your hips to jerk up in arousal and Steve smiles down at you, clearing taking the movement as a compliment. He circles his hand around himself, pumping a few times before dragging his head through your folds.

“Steve…” you moan out slowly, another surge of wetness flowing out of you.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes look glassy. It’s such a pretty view, you wiggle against him.

“Need you,” you admit, shyly.

He licks against his bottom lip before rubbing his tip against your fluttering hole, “You been with anyone else since me?”

You shake your head, knowing the reason behind his question, “I’m clean.”

Steve nods, his hair bouncing with the movement before he sinks his cock inside of you. You gasp out, grabbing onto his bedspread while you melt at the sensation. It’s been way too long. You’re tight, haven’t had anything stretch you out since the last time you had Steve like this. He grunts softly, eyes squeezing shut as he slowly sheathes himself completely inside you.

“Oh,” you moan out, feeling him fill you out in the most delicious way. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to watch the way Steve’s face contorts in pleasure as he stills his movements. He grazes his fingers up your sides as he lowers himself, his chest flush against yours while his lips find yours again. The kiss is languid, matching the stroke of him between your legs. It’s sensual which is typical from Steve but a stark contrast to the short foreplay. It takes your breath away, regardless. He pulls back an inch, panting against your lips as he rolls his hips deeper, running his hand down to hold onto your hip.

You try to spread your legs further, but the clothing around your ankles makes it difficult. Your hands scratch down his back and you arch your back, moving your hips to chase your high. Steve grunts out and then bites his bottom lip hard, moving his hips faster and more wildly than before. It’s exactly what you need as the pressure building inside you is pulled taut, you’re so close you can almost see it.

“Fuck me, Steve,” you whine out and he makes a pretty, needy sound that has you reeling. It was the type of sound that was the reason you’d always loved going down on Steve.

He rocks his hips into you harder and faster, pulling out little breathy moans from you as you cling onto his back.

“You like that?” he pants out, his hair bouncing with every thrust and you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowing as your orgasm looms closer and closer.

You press your palm against his cheek and he kisses you deeply, smoothing his hands up and down your sides as he moves against you. The kiss pushes you over the edge, a sharp cry flooding out of you as you climax around him, your walls fluttering around his dick and Steve starts making the familiar sounds, desperate and whiny little noises. He pulls out of you quickly, spilling his load over your stomach with a strangled groan. You hum happily, eyes dancing across his gorgeous face. He stuffs himself back in his pants and walks over to his hamper, grabbing a shirt and walking back over to wipe his mess from your navel. He pants as he does it and when he moves away again to dispose of the shirt, you pull your clothes back on.

“You want me to just drop you at home or back at school?” he asks, his eyes everyone but on you.

“Home is fine,” you say, trying to hide the way your heart is splitting yet again from Steve Harrington.

The car ride there is awkward and when you’re a block away, you notice Tommy and Billy’s cars parked on the street.

“Just drop me here,” you say softly and Steve pulls over. As you get out, he leans over and grabs your wrist. You kneel down and lean back in the car. He kisses you gently and then smiles awkwardly at you.

“I’ll see you later,” you say before shutting the door and slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

You walk up to the front door, noticing as Steve makes a u-turn and heads back in the direction of Loch Nora. Tears are threatening to break free but you will them back down, stepping inside the house and waving at Tommy, Billy and Carol as they’re lounged on the couch, watching music videos. You close yourself in the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hair down and fixing your makeup. Once you feel you’ve calmed down enough, you make your way back out to the living room and very nicely ask Billy if you could bum a smoke.

“I’ll join ya,” he says, standing from the couch.

Tommy moves to follow but Carol grabs his wrist and pulls him back down, leaning close to whisper something and he looks like he’s about to protest until she starts kissing his neck. You make a face and lead Billy out the back door. You sit down on the plastic furniture and graciously accept the cigarette he hands over. Billy pulls out his zippo and lights it for you. Seeing him, unfortunately, eases the way your heart aches. Deep down, you know Billy would do the same thing Steve just did to you but you try not to focus on that. You feel ridiculous that you thought things might be different this time. It’s obvious that you’ve always been an easy lay to Steve and it hurts that you’re still that.

“How was the library?” he asks as he lights his own cigarette.

You shrug, “Really exciting at first, until it sucked.”

“So what’s his name?” Billy asks, smirking up at you as he exhales the thick smoke.

You blush, dropping your head before replying, “That obvious, is it?”

Billy lets out a big, belly laugh. It’s a nice sound, you want to make him laugh over and over.

“I can always tell when a woman’s had an orgasm,” he quips, sliding his tongue out almost obscenely along his lower lip. It’s insane how quickly he’s making you feel better, no matter how blunt he is.

“Yeah, well, his name isn’t important because the whole thing,” you gesture your hands in big circles, “wasn’t important to him.”

Billy inhales sharply, gritting his teeth, “Well… speaking from experience… ‘cause I am one so.. yeah, all guys want the same thing.”

You curl your lips down in a frown as you chew over his words, deciding you’re not much better than Steve because you went along with it for the same reasons. You wanted to fuck him and shit, you got that.

“Sometimes,” you giggle softly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips, “Girls are after the same thing.”

The blonde laughs again and you wanna breathe it in, wanna taste his laughs and his lips and his whole body. He’s different than Steve, physically rougher around the edges which makes him that much more interesting. Exotic maybe. His hair doesn’t look nearly as soft as Steve’s, not nearly as cared for. You’d seen the Farrah Fawcett spray in Steve’s bathroom and you can guarantee Billy doesn’t use the same thing.

“I’ve seen my fair share of that,” he agrees, “but I think a big difference is once guys have it once, they don’t want it again but girls do.”

“Or they want it again when it’s easy,” you point out, reaching over to snatch the beer from his hand and taking a big gulp from it.

“Beware of those assholes,” he says, raising his eyebrows and looking at you seriously.

You groan softly, “I was trying to stay away from him.”

“Who is it?” Billy asks, curiously. “I won’t tell.”

“But you so will,” you gush, bringing your hand to your face, “It’s premium gossip.”

“You think I’m that type?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow up.

You turn to him, “This is juicy. It’s be hard not to tell people.”

“What? Harrington?”

Willing your face to remain still, “No.”

Billy scoffs, “King Steve. No way. That is something.”

“It’s not Steve,” you seethe, though you know your face is giving it away.

He chuckles softly and grabs the beer back, “Your secret is safe with me but uh… you could do better.”

Billy gets up from the chair, tossing his cigarette before walking back inside.

Daisy Is Typing

Billy Hargrove x Henderson reader

Summary: You meet a boy on your new computer while surfing an instant massenger

Continua a leggere

simmer down - 2

masterlist • requests are open • read on ao3

previous chapter

warnings: 18+ minors dni, reader x steve, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), swallowing, slow burn, angst, this is end game Billy x reader I promise

summary: you think maybe you can fall back into secretly hooking up with Steve, even if Billy knows. you find that he isn’t going to tell your brother, Tommy. but he’s sure as hell gonna tease you about it.

By some weird force of nature, Billy hasn’t spilled your secret. It’s stressing you out that he even knows at all, because he doesn’t know much of anything about you. And now he’s the sole holder of that secret. You don’t know Billy so you’ve got no clue if you could really trust him to keep his mouth shut. The other night at dinner, Tommy announced that Billy had joined the basketball team and you panicked because Steve is on the team. The possibility of Billy saying something makes you absolutely sick to your stomach.

You used to fuck off with Carol during practice but since Billy’s joined, the two of you sit in the gym and watch now. It’s tough to watch, Billy has this need to antagonize Steve and you end up feeling sorry for Steve. He’s not as good on his feet as the Californian. And Billy’s a fucking show off. He dribbles the ball between his legs and is constantly attempting trick shots. What’s worse is he makes them ninety percent of the time and everyone cheers. You can see the annoyance on Steve’s face, his comebacks aren’t as well executed as Billy’s. Also, how Billy always ends up on skins while Steve ends up on shirts seems intentional, like either Billy asks the coach or the coach really likes to see them compete.

“It’s insane to see Steve like this,” Carol mumbles to you, nudging your shoulder as she does so. “He used to be such a hot shot.”

You wince, watching Billy knock Steve onto his back and grin wildly down at the brunette. It’s definitely a foul, yet the coach doesn’t call it out. No, instead he yells for Steve to get up.

“Billy’s kind of a dick,” you admit, your face scrunched up in secondhand embarrassment for Steve.

Carol shrugs, “He’s just a better player. Steve’s so pathetic, it just looks sad.”

With a sigh you can’t help but agree. It’s only solidifying Steve’s fall from grace. You can’t really imagine Billy taking his place though, he’s in a far different league of his own. He’s exotic in ways Steve isn’t. Billy’s not rich but he has a way cooler car than Steve. He hasn’t spent his entire life in Hawkins and you make a internal note to ask him more about the west coast. Talking to Billy was surprisingly easy. Sometimes you’d catch yourself rambling on and repeating yourself because you’d get so excited about whatever you were talking about and he was an amazing listener. He asked questions, nodded along and laughed when you apologized for talking too much. The crush was kind of growing, but you were pretty sure it would pass. He was pretty regularly hooking up with Tina, she’d tell you and Carol all about it and you pretended not to picture yourself with him while she described their encounters.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Billy’s maniacal cackling and Steve whining, “Coach! Come on! That was totally illegal!”

Carol’s laughing along with Billy, but you can’t help but agree with Steve. He plays dirty, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. It is also glaringly obvious how sexy he is. You find yourself thinking about licking the sweat off his chest. Why did he always have to be skins?

This was torture but you enjoyed it enough to keep following Carol into the gym every other day. And after practice you’d walk with Billy to his car if Tina wasn’t around. Today she wasn’t, so here you are standing next to that pretty blue Camaro looking up at even prettier blue eyes. Billy’s hair is still wet from his shower. He shrugs off the compliments from Tommy and Carol while he lights a cigarette. He gives you this look when Steve walks to his car and your eyes linger, watching Steve’s tall legs as he strides past the four of you.

“So what’s the move?” Tommy asks, “You wanna come over and listen to records?”

Billy shakes his head, sucking on the Marlboro before frowning, “Gotta watch my step sister.”

“It’s Friday,” Carol points out and Billy scoffs, though his lips are turned up in a slight smile.

“I’ll be free around nine,” he says.

“We can go to quarry,” you suggest, raising an eyebrow up.

Tommy grins, “That could be fun. You down, Hargrove?”

Billy smiles, “Sounds like some hick shit. Count me in.”

Your head turns as you hear polyurethane wheels against the gravel, seeing the redhead barreling towards the Camaro. She’s got this pissed off look on her face and Billy’s smile quickly falls as he hands you the rest of his smoke.

“See you then,” he says, looking at you before tossing his bag in the backseat and climbing in the front seat. His step sister doesn’t even spare any of you a look as she climbs in the opposite side. Billy pulls his sunglasses down and shoots you a wink before he reverses out of his spot and speeds off. Carol squeals and slaps your arm.

Tommy groans, “Absolutely not. Do not fuck him.”

Carol pushes him gently, “He totally likes her, who are you to get in the way of that?”

You shake your head, “I’m not going to fuck him. Let’s go.”

;;;

Carol insists you ride with Billy, so you can give him directions. Tommy doesn’t protest but you can see it on his face. Billy’s car is very clean, it’s the first thing you notice. You know he smokes in the car, he’s doing it now, but there’s no ash lingering on the dash and it smells like leather and well… man. It smells like a man. His cassettes are organized alphabetically in the glove compartment, you notice it when he asks you to pick one out. You settle on a Def Leppard album and he doesn’t have anything to say about it but he drums his fingers against the steering wheel along with the music. He’s got a six pack of beer, placed neatly next to your feet and he drives slower than you expected.

“So…” he muses, passing the cigarette to you, “Is King Steve a good lay?”

“Oh my god,” you flush, dragging your hand down your face.

Billy cackles, “That embarrassment tells me yes. If he were shit in the sack, you wouldn’t be so fucking red.”

“Why do you even want to know?” you grumble, taking a hit of his cigarette and passing it back.

He takes it and drags his tongue across his lower lip, “I guess I don’t. It’s just funny to see you turn that color.”

“Is Tina good?” you try to make him feel as embarrassed as you are.

You don’t know what you anticipated, though. He just grins big and wide, leaning his head back to look at you while he says, “She’s alright. I do most the work so I don’t know if I’d say she’s good. But I get what I need.”

“Gross,” you roll your eyes and snatch the Marlboro back from him. “That’s not how she retells it.”

Billy hums and then purses his lips, “She does have a big mouth. She tell you anything you didn’t wanna know?”

You scoff, “Yeah, everything.”

“She describe my dick?” he asks, eyes crinkling up with his cocky grin.

“Feel like I’m old friends with it,” you exhale, trying not to picture it.

Billy laughs, it’s loud and genuine and you hate the way it makes you feel all warm inside. A part of you wants to open the door and roll yourself down the cliff he’s driving along.

“I always knew girls talked about that stuff.”

“It’s all she talks about. You better be careful, I think she’s obsessed with you,” you reply, “Most girls don’t do that, by the way.”

“That…” he starts, “Or you just haven’t had it good enough to brag about.”

“Oh, I could brag,” you say, tossing the cigarette butt out the window.

Billy scoffs, “Then why don’t you? Why not shack up with King Steve? Make it official.”

“Neither of us want that. We’re perfectly fine with no one knowing.”

You don’t dare tell Billy that all you want is for Steve to make it official. You can’t admit aloud that Steve is using you and you’re fully aware of it and so deeply hurt by it but you like him too much to do anything about it. Unfortunately, Billy’s smart and he can see deep into you somehow.

“You mean Harrington’s fine with you being a secret.”

“Tommy wouldn’t take kindly to me hooking up with his childhood best friend,” you supply with a shrug.

“You hook up with him since? Or was it a moment of weakness?” Billy asks, the question makes you squirm in your seat. You don’t want to answer it so you don’t. And you don’t have to.

“Take the next left, it’s like maybe half a mile and then it’s like a grass field you can park on,” you instruct him.

“Yes ma’am,” he purrs, peering in his rearview mirror to see Tommy and Carol behind. “You secretly fuck all your brothers friends or is the King just special?”

“Shut up.”

He does, shocking you as his lips straighten up and he looks ahead intently. You don’t know why he seems upset but you’re not trying to figure it out either. You’re not gonna get your hopes up and assume that was his way of propositioning you.

;;;

You’re three beers in and you feel it, you skipped dinner because you were nervous about tonight. The happy buzz spreading through you is exactly what you needed. It’s kind of dampened when Carol and Tommy sneak off and you’re left sitting in the grass with Billy, staring over the edge of the cliff down to the water.

“Tina’s just… there,” he says and it surprises you. There’s a slur to his words and you’re sure Billy’s just as buzzed as you are. “Like I don’t know she kind of just forced herself on me and it was easy and I’m fucking bored in this stupid town.”

“We’re all bored here,” you admit, “nothing to do but get drunk and fuck.”

“Like she’s pretty and all, but she’s kind of trying to box me in and I’m not into it,” he keeps ranting and it’s odd, Billy let’s you talk and talk and talk but he doesn’t usually do it himself.

“Aw, is Billy Hargrove not a one woman kind of guy?” you fake a pout.

He chuckles, “What’s the point? I’m young and love is bullshit. It’s not real. It’s just what people say to manipulate you into doing what they want you to do.”

You can’t help but think about the way Steve looked at Nancy, like she was the reason the fucking sun shines. He doesn’t look at you like that. You’re an end to a means. Something easy for him to get his rocks off. Either Billy’s been burned or he doesn’t think too highly of women.

“Someone break your heart?”

He shakes his head with a scoff, “No one can break it if they don’t have it.”

“That’s smart, I guess…”

“What about you? Anyone break yours?” he asks, laying on his back but turning his body to look up at you.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you admit, laying on your back and turning to meet Billy’s eyes.

He smiles, it’s warm and fuzzy and you can stare at him all night. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“We’re a couple of losers,” you joke, giggling softly when he laughs.

“As long as we’re not idiots.”

“Love makes you an idiot?”

“Oh, it’s not a real thing, but believing you’re in love makes you an idiot,” he mumbles, turning to face the sky. “You know anything about stars?”

You follow his eyes, looking up at the sparkles illuminating the backlit canopy that is the night sky. You don’t but now you wish you did. “They blink when they’re dying apparently, and like… when we see that, we’re watching the past or something? Like the star itself has died but we’re light years away and so it hasn’t happened yet? I guess? I have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Billy laughs softly and goes silent for a beat, “Can’t see this many stars back home. There’s too many lights.”

You hum, “What do you miss most about home?”

He sighs, “The ocean, for sure. I surf.”

“You surf?” you ask, a little shocked but you can picture it, the salty water soaking his hair and you wonder if maybe there’s a chance you could still smell it on him.

“Or I guess I used to. No waves here,” he muses, sounding more melancholy than you’ve ever heard.

It makes you sad. You imagine what he was like back home. What else he got up to besides surfing. You have no idea what to say. You want to comfort him but how could you?

“Oh, food too. The food here sucks,” he laughs, “The only Mexican food you fucks have is Taco Bell.”

“I like Taco Bell,” you knit your eyebrows together and Billy giggles.

“I want tamales. I want menudo.”

These foods are foreign to you but you know Taco Bell doesn’t offer them.

“My best friend, Argyle, his mom made the best food,” he says, sounding nostalgic and happy while he reminisces. “I was over at their place like every night for dinner. My dad didn’t cook. We had like TV dinners before Susan came along and she can’t cook for shit, but I mean, she tries.”

“You can come to ours for dinner,” you offer, “Might not be Mexican food but my mom cooks well.”

Billy giggles, again, and you start to feel light headed, you want to say fuck it and pounce on him. But there’s no way he wants you to do that.

“I like your moms cooking, yeah…” he trails off and then points up at the sky. “Did you see that? Shooting star!”

You nod, you were just in the middle of wishing on it, wishing Billy would kiss you. Before the wish can even come true, Tommy and Carol come stumbling back.

“Good fuck?” Billy asks as he remains laid on his back.

You sit up and gag as Tommy answers, “Yeah it was! She let me stick it—“

He’s interrupted by Carol forcing her hand over his mouth, “Tommy! For fucks sake! Shut up!”

Billy lets out a cackle, lacing his fingers together over his stomach as he continues staring up at the sky.

“What did you two get up to?” Carol asks in a sing-song voice as she sits beside you.

“This,” Billy deadpans as you turn to glare at her. “You two fucks know anything about stars?”

“No,” Tommy admits almost sheepishly as he lays next to Billy. “Like I know the Big Dipper and shit but that’s it.”

The blonde hums in response and Carol nudges your side.

“I have to pee, come with,” she says as she stands up, reaching for your hand and helping you stand with her.

When you turn to look at the two boys, Billy turns his head to look at you. His expression is unreadable but there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach do flips. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You follow Carol’s footsteps away, a spot hidden by trees but too far away. Carol pulls her pants down and squats, looking up at you with her elbows resting on her knees.

“Did you guys kiss?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes before you answer, “No. We talked.”

“Ugh,” she groans, “That’s all you guys ever do.”

“Maybe Billy isn’t into me, did you ever think about that?”

Carol shakes her head, “No, that’s stupid, he totally is.”

You wonder how she could possibly know that, if maybe Billy’s said something to her and Tommy when you weren’t around. But that seems unlikely. You think that if he was interested, he would’ve already made a move by now. And besides, you’re still so wrapped up in Steve. Anything you’ve felt for Billy has just been because he’s extremely attractive and that doesn’t mean you like him, it just means your eyes are functioning.

“How do you know?”

Carol pulls her pants up and shrugs, “Just a feeling. Come on, I’m so exhausted.”

“Gross,” you shake your head but follow her back. The boys have gotten up and Billy’s standing beside his car.

“I’ll see you guys later,” he calls out before climbing in and driving away. It’s strange how quickly he left but you try not to dwell on it. You can’t help but wonder what him and Tommy talked about.

;;;

Steve looks to you, his elbow is a little close to your face but you don’t mind. How could you when you just swallowed his cum? Not to mention how soft and handsome he looks. His eyes are so big and brown and pretty.

“That was awesome,” he says and smiles around the last word, his teeth on display.

You giggle and lean over, cupping his face in your hands as you kiss him. He welcomes you in his arms, smiling against your lips and pulling you closer. His hands feel nice on your waist, you melt against him and you can’t help yourself as you deepen the kiss.

When you pull away he says something that makes your head spin, “You’re so easy to be around.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” you tell him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “I like looking at you.”

He laughs, smoothing his hands up your back, “I mean it… with Nancy, there was like all this pressure and she’s so kind and smart but I felt like I was disappointing her.”

You hate when he talks about her, when he compares the two of you because you’re so fully aware of how different you and Nancy are. You hate the knowledge but you know Nancy wasn’t as eager in bed. You’ve got more experience than her in the field. You think maybe you should be ashamed by your sex drive and how hungry you get when it comes to Steve. But then you think about the sweet and whiny sounds he makes when he’s about to climax and you don’t care, you love to make him feel good.

“Well… I know you. I’ve known you almost my whole life,” you reply, combing your fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to be anyone other than yourself, Steve.”

“Remember when I used to play Barbie’s with you?” he asks, grinning up at you.

“Remember when you taught me how to kiss?” you smirk, leaning down to brush your lips together.

Steve moans softly, allowing your tongue past his lips and he deepens it, grabbing onto the back of your neck. With that, you’re ready for round two as you reminisce on the night Steve snuck into your room and asked if you’d ever been kissed, how you told him no and he said he’d show you. The way he held you gently and licked slowly into your mouth. You remember how turned on you got and how you could feel Steve’s hard on in his pajamas but the two of you didn’t do anything but kiss until the sun came up and then he snuck back into Tommy’s room before anyone woke up.

He pulls back from the kiss with a loud pop and says, “Remember how I took your virginity?”

You roll your hips against him at the memory. It was your fifteenth birthday. Steve was there for the family party and insisted he threw you an after party at his house. Late into the night, after everyone had left and Tommy and Carol had passed out, Steve lead you up to his room. He slowly undressed you, kissing all over your whole body and asked if you were ready for your present. It was gentle and so wonderful and you were so sure you were madly in love with him by the end of it. He kissed all over your face and kept saying, “Happy Birthday, beautiful.”

Now, in this moment, thinking back, you want to cry. How could he just leave you for Nancy like that? Steve had made you feel so special like he loved you or something. But what sucks… is you feel it again. Looking down at him, naked in his bed all this time later. Well, it hasn’t been that long but still, a lot has happened.

“I’m happy it was you I gave it to,” you say, smiling.

“Me too…” Steve mumbles, pulling you back for another heated kiss.

He’s hard again, you feel his cock fill out against your thigh while you lick into his mouth, tongues meeting and swirling together. It’s so easy, falling back into the routine of secret rendezvous with him. As long as Billy stays under the impression it was one time, you’re safe. You can keep this up, you can keep getting this little piece of Steve.

“Baby,” he whines when you angle your hips so his cock brushes against your aching center.

You love when he calls you that. You can almost pretend he’s your boyfriend.

“Can’t believe you already wanna go again,” he mumbles, grabbing onto your hips so he can help you get him inside. You gasp when you do, wriggling your hips down and grinding against him. You keep your hand on his face as you bounce on top of him, aimlessly stroking your thumb against his cheekbone. He keeps licking his teeth and lips while his eyebrows knit together, eyes locked on yours.

You sigh softly, “S’your fault. You get me so worked up.”

“Uh-huh… me too,” he replies, eyes falling down to where your bodies meet, watching the way your pussy swallows his cock up.

It makes you smile and you want to look as sexy as possible for him, so you press your hands on the bed and lean back to give him a better view. It quickly progresses to you placing your feet on the bed so you can move faster and easier. Steve props himself on his elbows to watch, this needy look on his face; his eyebrows scrunched up with his eyes wide and his kiss stained lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he tells you, voice low.

His words encourage you to work harder, his bed springs squeak and the headboard starts hitting the wall with rhythmic, satisfying thuds. After a moment, Steve can’t help himself and starts jerking his hips up to meet your thrusts. He keeps whimpering and whining, it has you so hot and tingly all over. He wraps his hands around your ankles, watching intently as you ride him.

“Baby, that’s so good,” he babbles, blinking rapidly and it’s one of the tell tale signs that he’s about cum.

You double down, though your thighs and calves are burning from the exertion. It’s all worth it to see Steve fall apart. Once he squeezes his eyes shut and you can see the strain in his neck and jaw, you pull off of him and quickly get your lips wrapped around his cock, closing your eyes tight as you take him as deep as you can and using your hand to stroke what you can’t fit.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m—“ he cries out and then empties down your throat.

He tastes sweet, you’ve always found that strange because you’ve been told that cum taste depends on what they eat and Steve doesn’t eat all that healthy, mostly junk food. Maybe it’s the fruit, he does eat a lot of fruit. You swallow it and pull off him with a loud pop. He’s breathing heavy, eyes still closed tight as he recovers. You rub soothing circles against his thighs as you watch, smiling too yourself.

“C’mere…” he breaths, opening his eyes and looks down to you, “sit on my face.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You straddle his head and Steve wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you down on his mouth. He eats you out sloppily, tongue all over and shaking his head while he does it. You whimper and knot your fingers in his hair, trying to keep your body from tipping over at the pleasure. He digs his fingernails into your thighs, moaning while he licks your pussy. The vibrations of it feel immaculate, your eyes start to roll back and you grind against his face, chasing the high that’s so close you can almost grab it.

“Steve,” you whine out, “right there, oh fuck, yes right there.”

He listens, working his tongue harder against your clit until you’re shaking above him, fingers pulling at his hair while your orgasm crashes through you. You try to hold yourself upright but fail, bending over and muffling your cries in his pillows. He lets you ride it out and when you pull off of him, he’s panting with the widest grin you’ve ever seen. You can’t help but kiss it, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

He pats your thigh, “Why don’t you stay a little longer? We can watch a movie or something.”

You nod slowly, “Okay… that sounds fun.”

He kisses you again before climbing out of the bed and pulling on a plain t-shirt and his briefs. You also get dressed but you don’t put your pants back on, just your underwear and then you follow him downstairs into the kitchen. You sit up on the counter as he opens the fridge and pulls out two water bottles, offering one to you. You take it graciously and the pair of you swallow them down quickly, smiling at each other as you pant afterward. Steve chuckles softly and then makes his way back to the fridge.

“Ya hungry?”

“I could eat,” you admit, watching as he picks through the groceries. He pulls out fruit. All kinds. Some you’ve never had before. He places them on the counter and you point to one.

“You just eat limes?”

Steve giggles, picking up the fruit and extending it towards you, “It’s guava.”

You hum, looking over the fruit, “I’ve like had it in juice form, I never knew what it looked like.”

Steve takes it back, places it on a cutting board and reaches in the drawer for a knife and spoon. He cuts it open and scoops a spoonful out, passing it to you. You wrap your lips around the spoon and suck down the fruit. It’s very sweet, kind of like a strawberry but also like a pear. You knit your eyebrows together as you chew.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, smiling as he slides between your legs and places his hands on your bare thighs.

You shake your head and say around the mouthful, “No, it’s good.”

After you swallow, Steve kisses you and slides his tongue along your lower lip before pushing past and rubs his tongue against yours. He pulls back and licks his lips, like he’s savoring the taste of the fruit.

“It’s really good,” he says, smirking at you and you flush all over, wanting to kiss him more but he pulls away and starts cleaning the fruit before cutting it up and arranging it on a plate.

“Come on, let’s pick a movie,” he says as he walks out into the living room and you jump off the counter to follow him.

The movie doesn’t matter, you can’t help but watch Steve instead of the TV. He looks so obscene while he’s eating it, sucking the juices and licking them up from his hand and wrist when they drip down. He seems fully interested in the film, even pauses it when you’ve finished the plate of fruit and he goes to wash his hands. You figure you should wash yours too.

When you get back to the couch, he’s laid on it and he makes grabby hands at so you lay in front of him, getting butterflies when he wraps his arms around your waist and presses kisses to your neck. This is by far the most domestic you’ve ever felt with Steve and it makes you feel dizzy and so so warm. You end up passing out on the couch.

;;;

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice wakes you up and you panic, sitting upright.

“Shit,” you gasp, “What time is it?”

Steve shrugs, “Like nine. Why don’t you…” he shakes his head, “No, never mind.”

“No, what?”

“Why don’t you just spend the night?” he asks, shyly as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I… okay,” you can’t believe Steve thought you’d say no to that. “I should probably call home.”

“Yeah, no, totally,” he smiles at you, “You know where the phone is. I’m gonna just clean up the kitchen really quick.”

“Okay,” you tell him and then make your way to the phone. You pick it up and dial home, pressing the phone against your ear.

After two rings, Tommy picks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” you say, twirling the chord around your finger, “Can you—“

“Where have you been?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“At a friends. I accidentally fell asleep,” you explain, “Can you—“

“What friends?”

“Becca’s,” you quickly lie, you can tell her at school tomorrow to back you up. “Can you tell mom and dad I’m gonna crash here tonight?”

“Sure you’re not with a guy?” Tommy asks and you scoff.

“I’m not at a guys house. Can you tell them please?”

“Fine. But tomorrow we’re all going to hang out at Skull Rock. Carol wants you to come,” he says.

“Yeah, cool, I’ll be there,” you say, turning to see Steve leaning against the doorway and smiling at you. “Thanks, Tommy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hang up quickly and turn to smile back at Steve, “You’ve got me until the morning.”

Steve steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist, “Oh, that’s a long time. I wonder how we can spend the time…”

You giggle, melting at his touch.

“Wanna listen to my Abba record?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks down at you.

“Jesus, Steve, again?” you blush, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I bet I we could listen to it like three more times,” he grins and picks you up. You squeal and wrap your legs around your waist, giggling as he carries you up to his room.

;;;

“This is her place,” you tell Steve as he drives, pointing to Becca’s place. He pulls closer to the curb and shifts into park.

“I had fun,” he smiles at you, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Me too,” you gush, “My legs are still like jello.”

He blushes but leans close to kiss you, pressing his palm against your cheek as he deepens it, licking into your mouth. You melt into it, moaning softly as you feel tingles rise up your thighs and heat surges to your core. You pout when he pulls away.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispers past a smile.

You nod, smiling shyly before you open the door and wave as he drives away. You make your way up the steps and knock on Becca’s door. It takes a while before her mom answers and she smiles around her cigarette, letting you inside and you walk to Becca’s room. You knock before opening the door and Becca’s doing her makeup. She gives you a look up and down before smiling smugly.

“You spent the night here last night?” she asks with a laugh.

“I certainly did,” you giggle and open her closet, looking through her clothes for something to wear.

Becca turns to you, “You look absolutely fucked, like you haven’t had a blink of sleep. Who is he?”

“It’s a secret,” you smile, settling on a pair of jeans and a white blouse. “And I slept like maybe four hours.”

“No way! Who?” she gushes, throwing her mascara down with her eyes wide and mouth open.

You want to tell her so bad. And Becca’s a close friend, but you know she can’t keep her mouth shut. But you really want to tell someone. Carol wouldn’t tell but she’d be mad. Billy already knows but something feels incredibly wrong about telling him the juicy details of your sex life.

“He’s in college, I can’t tell anyone,” you lie as you get dressed.

“Ugh, you lucky bitch!” she squeals and hands you her mirror and makeup bag. “Give me the juicy details, spare his name.”

“I went over there at like four yesterday and he just dropped me off. We had sex seven times. Seven!” you gush, using her concealer to cover up the bags under your eyes.

“I hate you! Is he big?” she asks, leaning against her chair.

You blush, picturing Steve’s cock and immediately feeling aroused all over again, “It’s long. If I had to guess like I don’t know… close to nine inches.”

“How are you not split in half?!” Becca squeals.

“Trust me, I am,” you exhale sharply.

;;;

Billy’s offering you a cigarette as you and Becca walk up to the group. You take it, letting him light it and greedily inhaling the smoke. You need it after the night and morning you’ve had.

The blonde leans close to your ear and whispers, “So how was King Steve last night?”

You glare at him before turning to make sure no one is paying attention to the two of you. You whisper back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

Billy chuckles, “Look at you. Either you were with Harrington or you’re lezzing out with Becca, and by the looks of it, she’s good.”

You flush, your fingertips shaking as you bring the cigarette back to your lips. The lowness of his voice and the implications make you feel warm all over. You’re fucking turned on by it. By Billy knowing. You wish you had the guts to tell him Steve made you cum seven times and by the morning you forgot your own name with how fucked out you were. Wish you could tell him about riding Steve’s face and how you’d almost fallen off the bed with how Steve had positioned you and fucked you relentlessly. Maybe you don’t need to, perhaps he can see it.

He grins wolfishly at you, “Guess that’s how he got the name King Steve.”

You choke on the smoke in your throat and everyone turns to look at you. Billy slaps your back like it’s gonna help, like you actually choked on the smoke and not his words.

Tossing the cigarette you ask, “So what time are we meeting up tonight?”

“Eh, around eight or so,” Tommy says, eyes slanted like he sees something he doesn’t like. Billy quickly shoves his hands in his pockets and inches away from you. That’s suspicious, that makes you feel weird all over. Immediately, you're sure Tommy’s said something to him and it makes your blood boil. It could all be wishful thinking, though, you remind yourself. Maybe Tommy didn’t say anything and Billy assumes he’d be upset. You don’t have much time to think about it when Steve walks by and your group of friends, his old friends, start berating him.

Billy calls to him, “Long night, Harrington?”

Steve stops in his tracks, turning to see you and Billy leaning up against the Camaro and he gives you this look like he’s been betrayed. He exhales, looks like he’s about to say something but stops himself.

“Crying over the princess all night?” Tommy chides, grinning from ear to ear.

Steve steps closer to him, chest puffed out, “You’d fucking die if you knew what I was up to last night.”

You hold your breath, beside you, Billy cackles and elbows your side. You widen your eyes and step further away from him.

“Oh yeah?” Tommy asks, “Try me.”

Steve meets your worried eyes with his own, chews on his bottom lip when he looks back at Tommy. He shakes his head, “You're not worth it.”

He walks away, not turning back to look at any of you. The group stands stunned, but Billy looks at you with this sly smirk and Becca looks at you with persistent eyes and her mouth hanging open.

“The hell did he mean?” Carol asks, her face contorted in confusion.

You stand there, a mess of nerves like everyone knows before Billy speaks up and you don’t expect for him to be the one to save you. “I bet you hit the nail on the head, Tommy boy.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to save your own ass. “Bet he was crying over Nancy all night.”

When the herd of you start walking towards the school, Billy leans into your ear and says, “You’re welcome.”

You fucking hate him but also, you kind of love him for it.

HAVE YOU SEEN JAMIE?????

this will sound absolutely crazy but just imagine ...

you're dating billy. everything's fine but one day your boyfriend gets possessed by vecna. so you think you're still dating billy however, it's kind of also henry/vecna. he then falls in love with you ... let's skip time ... we obviously know billy doesn't survive the starcourt mall battle and so he's out of your life and so is henry or so you thought because henry can't get you out of his head. so he starts to appear in your dreams as well as in your every day life. you think he's a real person but no one really knows who he is. nevertheless you form somewhat of a bond/relationship with him. after a while he tries to lurk you into the upside down to finally be together with you again and then boom ... you find out who he really is. what will you do? he obviously helped to kill your boyfriend billy, he is the reason teenagers all over hawkins died and he's the reason everyone lives in fear.

thoughts?

Can't wait for pt 2!!!!! I especially love it when the shitty asshole gets beaten tf up🙈😻 so well written and had me feeling the anger too

It's Personal

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

TW: Violence against Y/N (not via Billy), farfetched for the plot, Billy is mean, angst, possible cringe idk. We're all friends here. THE VIOLENCE IS DESCRIBED IN DETAIL FOR THE MOST PART. A little bit non-canon Billy, but if you're reading his dialogue as sassily and as dry as I'm writing it, it's not quite as jarring to his personality.

Notes: I literally just learned about the "Who did this to you?" Trope and now I'm giving it an angsty go. This is not smut, womp, womp. Also, I did the gifs like a picture book so you can kinda see the expression or energy I was going for. Summary: Billy's been an ongoing bully/ nuisance in your life since you met. He's acting a little different after finding out you've been hurt.

"Can you try not to take up half the lecture dick-riding the professor?" Billy catches you as you're making your way across campus. He's always been an issue for you, ever since he moved here your junior year in high school. Now you're both freshmen in college. He'd taken a year off to pursue other outlets, but sometimes you're convinced he did it just to be able to torment you in college, seeing as he was always a grade above.

"What are you talking about, Billy?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. Already too exhausted from studying late the night before to deal with his endless harassment.

"I'm saying every time we have this course, you ask a million fucking questions the whole time," his voice is low, but filled with a palpable hate. Why does he dislike you so much? You've never known. You've never asked. "Try to save your desperation for after class, cool? It's hard to watch," He jabs, speed-walking ahead of you.

Most days, you'd say something back. A quip just as hateful, if not worse. You were his rival in every sense of the word. The two of you even shared the same genre of fashion sense. You stole his spotlight, and he doesn't like it, so he notices when your venom is running low. You're silent the entire lecture, not because of what Billy said to you, but because you're tired.

Your study session only ran so late because you and your boyfriend spent most of the day arguing. The gaslighting is constant, and his moods have become more and more unstable and harder to navigate. You tell yourself over and over that you love him. You've loved him since you were young. He's your high school sweetheart. Andy was on the basketball team in high school and while that type usually didn't take to a hair-metal gal like you, he seemed so smitten when you met.

The room is dismissed and you try to file out long before Billy can make it to the door. He laughs at your desperate attempt to get away. Like a cockroach scurrying away from a suddenly illuminated bulb. You're not fast enough and as he passes you before you reach the exit to the building, he leans over and taunts you in your ear.

"It's about time you listened," he hisses and walks away laughing. You're indifferent. Nothing he says could hurt the way Andy's words do. You tune everything out to make room for your insecure thoughts to take over. You blame yourself for Andy's rapid change in personality. What could you have done to make him feel like this toward you? Your mind is far too occupied by these untrue concerns, that you barely feel the anxiety settle in until you get back to your dorm. It was a bit more pricey on your tuition, but your scholarship allowed you to have a dorm room for yourself. Instead of another bed, it has a small "living room" area.

With a deep, grounding sigh, you reach for the door handle and step inside. Things are fine. Andy greets you with a smile and kisses you sweetly as you set your things down by the door. You're pleasantly surprised, allowing all the toxic thoughts circling your mind to melt away under his gentle touch.

"How was class?" He asks.

"It was fine. Nothing spectacular," you giggle, smiling warmly, overtly relieved that he's not still upset with you. You can barely recall what he was angry about, to begin with. You snuggle into him as you both relax on the couch. He stares straight ahead as he opens his mouth to speak.

"One of my buddies said he saw you talking to that Steve guy," Andy's voice becomes colder, and you realize it was all a trap. You're wrapped in his arms, feeling his body go rigid as you hesitate to answer. "Y/N." He finally looks down at you, meeting your anxious gaze.

"Oh, uh," your throat goes dry. "I did talk to him. He was a little late and just needed the notes from the first section. I charged him five bucks." You begin to ramble, hoping to defuse the situation before he explodes. "He's still going steady with that Debra girl, too. She's in my journalism class. I bet those cookie-cutter losers end up married, honestly."

"You know I don't like you talking to other guys without me." Andy clenches his jaw.

"I know! I completely understand, too. You know I love how possessive you are, babe. It's hot," you're desperate and hopeful that stroking his ego will put this anger to bed. "There were so many people around, so I was thinking nothing could happen." You furrow your brow at your own words. "Your friend was even there to make sure!"

Andy's grip around you tightens, nearly cutting off your ability to fill your lungs just using one arm.

"I don't ask you for a lot, Y/N." His free hand reaches up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes, though you weren't looking away to begin with. "Don't make me look like a fool." When he loosens his grip, your lungs inflate with a loud gasp and his shift in position slides you off the couch, into the floor with a small thud. Now you're angry. The two of you have screamed at each other plenty of times, but how dare he act so bold?

"Andy," you stand, hovering over him where he remains on the couch. His arched brows frame his bright eyes with anger. "Get out." He smirks, and it fills you with unease. Standing from the couch, he takes one step forward, nearly chest to chest with you, if it weren't for the dramatic height difference. He towers over you, stealing the feeling of power you thought you were cultivating.

"What'd you just say to me?" He asks with a sociopathic smile.

"I said," You swallow hard. "Get. The fuck. Out." You barely get a chance to speak the last word of your sentence before a fast, hard open hand meets your cheek, knocking you to the ground, and almost sending you across the room, it felt like.

"Do not ever talk to me like that just because you got caught," Andy's words are full of anger. You stare at him with wide eyes, arching your brow in an expression that asks him who the fuck he thinks he is. He storms out of the dorm, but you know he'll be back. And after these events, you're scared to try and stop him. His college teammates are at every corner, it seems. It's as if ever since Jason went out of state for college, they all bend to Andy's will. Losers. Andy doesn't come home until after you've fallen asleep. You stayed up as late as your body could take, but he wasn't back in bed until 5 AM. You have no idea where he's been.

The next day, it's your misfortune that you and Billy share yet another class. This one was early in the morning rather than yesterday's afternoon lecture. You're running on very little sleep, and the trauma of Andy snapping and putting his hands on you. It's just something you could never even fathom. The way he would kiss the ground you walked on when you first met, how could he? You're more than distracted, staring directly at the floor as you walk until you run flat into someone else in the hall.

"I stood here, completely still, to see if you'd notice. I guess other people don't exist to you, huh, princess?" He mocks you. It's not long before he notices the dark bags under your lifeless eyes and the speckles of red that have risen in the hazy shape on the side of your face. Assuming it's an allergic reaction like you had back in high school, he didn't hold back. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You look like shit."

"Still look better than you could pull, pussy," you sneer, shoving past him. "Don't fucking make me late." He steps in front of you again, knowing neither of you is late because he's on the same schedule.

"What happened to your face? It looks like your boyfriend had to tell you twice," he bursts out laughing at his distasteful joke. You can feel your blood begin to boil. You no longer wish to exchange hateful comments. Now you want to hurt him. You want to hurt Billy the way Andy hurts you. You can't swing on him, so you take your next best shot.

"Yeah? How many times did your mom have to tell you before she just gave up and left?" You boldly stare Billy in the eyes, hoping so badly that none of Andy's henchmen see the two of you going at it. Billy's jaw is rigid, and you can see it tighten as he grinds his teeth, subduing his emotions. You've never come at him like that, it wasn't expected. His taunting smirk is long gone.

"Are you trying to get your fucking ass kicked, Y/L/N?" Billy's disgusted with himself the minute he says it. Of course, he doesn't mean that. He'll drive you into an early grave, but it's never been in his moral compass to hurt a woman the way his father hurt his mom. He wants to rescind the rhetorical threat, but his ego just clamps his lips shut. Your eye twitches as you wonder what else you've got to lose. Or would Andy hit you again for letting another man kick your ass? Your thoughts are exaggerated and full to the brim with frustration. You finally explode.

"Fucking do it then, Billy! Swing! Hit me, motherfucker!" You drop your belongings and stomp toward him and he's unsure how to react now that you've called him on his bluff/ intrusive thought.

"Calm the fuck down. You look ridiculous," Billy takes a cautious step back.

"No, let's go outside. Let's see how hard you can hit someone half your fucking height, pussy!" You're nearly causing a scene, but the building is empty for the hour. Tears well in your eyes and you refuse to let up, demanding he act on his "big, scary" threat. He won't. He stares at your watery, red eyes. Your face is flushed and only your cheeks, nose, and around your eyes hold any pigment. He essentially waits until you tire yourself out.

"You've gotta do something about that shit, Y/N. You're fucking losing it," he shakes his head.

"I'm not losing any-fucking-thing, Hargrove. Don't ever mistake me for a bitch you can scare off with an empty fucking threat," you spit, grabbing your things and taking off, leaving Billy standing confused in the empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that?" He questions aloud. He has no idea you've been drained with no way to recharge. You've been hurt with no way to heal. To him, you're losing your goddamn mind. After that, he's not even angry at your comment anymore. He's just, concerned? Maybe just curious, really. After all, he's supposed to be your burden. Anything else takes the attention off of him.

The class is long and just like yesterday, you're quiet when you usually never stop engaging. Even the professor notices, and she asks you to linger behind after the lecture is over.

"Hey, Y/N. What's up? You were so quiet today," the professor's soft voice is sweet to your ears.

"I've just been, um, tired." You shake your head, barely convincing yourself.

"Is that a bruise on your cheek, honey?" The kind, older woman asks with two hands resting on her coffee mug. Just outside the open door, Billy waits for you to pass by before he realizes you're staying behind. He scoots as close to the door as he can, flat along the wall, listening.

"A bruise," he whispers to himself, recalling what he thought was a rash. His stomach almost attempts to simulate the feeling of guilt as he remembers the joke he made at you. The one that set you off.

"Oh, no. It's a reaction. New laundry detergent fucked me up," you stop yourself. "Messed me up, sorry."

"Y/N, you're an adult. I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, but it's very clearly not hives," the professor sighs, her eyes full of concern as she stares at the ever-developing bruise as it slowly takes the shape of a hand. "Is it another student at the University?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm dealing with a lot right now. I will see you on Wednesday. Goodbye." You snatch your things up and zip toward the door, holding your breath. The wind from your speed walking blows your hair back, giving Billy a perfect view of the hand-shaped bruise yellowing on the side of your face. You're too determined to get out of there to react to his eavesdropping, so the two of you just share a look, and you keep going.

Billy furrows his brow. He's unsure you even have a boyfriend, so who exactly is leaving bruises like that right, front and center on your face? After his last course of the day, Billy congregates with his friends at a nearby frat house belonging to a different college.

"Hey, Tommy," Billy calls his friend's attention. Tommy pulls himself away from the group of guys he was laughing with and sits across from Billy. "You know that Y/N girl? Lots of denim, nice ass?" It's not until the last two descriptors that Tommy recalls who you are. Figures.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"What's her deal? She dating anybody?" Billy asks, innocently enough.

"I don't know, man. Why do you always ask me about shit like that?" Tommy laughs.

"Because you gossip like a woman," Billy smirks, standing from his slouched position on the couch and grabbing a beer from the large, ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. "She's some annoying broad in a couple of classes with me. I thought I'd ask around and see if there's a reason she never shuts her goddamn mouth." Both of them laugh at his hateful remark, but it's true to him. You get on his nerves, but it's less what you say, and more so the fact that you do "him" better than him. The men drink irresponsibly and cause a ruckus until late, late at night where they then wander back to their campus/ dorms on foot.

You wake up in the morning finally feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, despite the sudden changes in your relationship. You look over to see Andy's side of the bed is empty. You assume he slept over at the frat house after getting too fucked up. You know he likes to party.

Sitting comfortably on your couch, watching an episode of your favorite show, though it's a rerun, you involuntarily flinch when you hear the door open. Andy slightly stumbles through, laughing with messy hair. His clothes seem disheveled, but you chalk it up to drunken hijinks.

"Hey, babe! Did you have fun?" You ask, smiling, beaming, really. Hoping the sound of his laughter is a sign he's in a good mood this morning.

"Huh?" He looks over at you as if he didn't notice your existence until you spoke.

"I was just asking if you had a good time. Sorry I couldn't go with you, I was just too tired," you laugh.

"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it when it's just me and the guys, actually." His confession makes you a little sad, but you try to understand.

"Got any plans for today?" You grin, letting your guard down.

"For the love of God, dude. Can I get in the door first?" He snaps.

"Okay... Sorry," you quieted yourself down at first, but then quickly realized that's not who your daddy raised. You're getting ready to confront him again despite the smack until you notice something that makes your stomach drop, a small trail of three faint hickeys along your long-term boyfriend's neck. "Babe. Where did those come from?"

"What are you talking about?" He groans, throwing himself on the couch next to you, gripping your thigh possessively.

"I'm talking about the hickeys on your neck, Andy. Where did they come from?" Your voice is low and shaky. "Just you and the guys, huh?"

"Don't start with this shit again, Y/N. I'm too hungover." He dismisses you entirely, and all the rage you'd been holding back to be the "cool girlfriend" comes pouring out.

"You knocked me to the floor for looking at Steve Harrington! You put your hands on me for some made-up story you formulated in your own head and now you're coming home with hickyes?!" The longer you scold him, the darker his expression becomes.

"I'm giving you one fucking chance to get on your fucking knees right now and apologize," Andy's unsettlingly calm. You're frozen. Too scared to be openly defiant, but too angry to fold at his command. "One... Two..." He stands, softly placing a hand on your cheek and sliding it up into your hair, gracefully scraping the tips of his fingers behind your ear. It's so soft and soothing, that the sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and just as they're about to open again, he closes his fist around a large portion of your hair and forces you to the ground.

"Andy!" You scream, both terrified and in pain.

"I'm so sick of this, Y/N. I'm sick of you," he growls through gritted teeth, holding you painfully at his side like a heeling dog.

"God damn it, stop! It's fucking over! Fuck whoever you want!" You cry, shifting your position against him in hopes of loosening the pull against your scalp.

"And let you whore yourself out to every other guy on campus? Fuck off. You're mine." He finally releases your hair, tossing you forward in front of him. He kneels down to get closer to your face, speaking lowly. "I heard Hargrove's been asking about you. Think you're safe with your playboy side-piece?"

"He's not my side-piece! Please, Andy. Why are you being like this?" You hold a hand up to defend yourself.

"You think I don't see you two whispering to each other? You think you're smart enough to hide anything from me?" Andy's voice is slowly rising in volume. You worry the other students will hear the commotion. You don't want to lose your solo dorm rights seeing as men aren't supposed to "live" with women in the dorms.

"He's a dick, dude! I fucking hate the guy, please stop!" Your makeup is trailing down your face as you continue to cry for mercy. He shakes his head at the scene.

"I tried warning you. I tried getting my point across to you, but you won't hear me," he sighs as he snatches your hair back into his fist in one, quick, snake-like action. You wail at the aching tug, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. Just as you go to open them, you see his hand flying toward you. It starts with open-handed smacks, knocking the wind out of you from how bad they hurt, but he progresses until he's landing blow after blow, all over you. Anywhere he can reach as you try to block him.

Eventually, you're badly roughed up, and Andy stands to look at what he's done. The remaining alcohol seems to clear from his system as the reality of his actions sets in.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he mumbles, tearing his shirt off as it's stained with your blood. He shoves it deep into the trashcan and disappears to wash the evidence of the horrors against you off of his hands. He returns to where you lie in the living room. He's wearing a fresh shirt and his breath heaves as he stares at your seemingly unconscious body. You're awake though, barely. Holding your breath as long as possible, only allowing the shallowest of breaths, basking in the stillness after the abhorrent beating.

Andy bolts out the door and after a few moments of silence, loud sobs of relief and pain emit from your sore chest. You roll over into a ball, holding yourself close as you process everything. You mourn who you were before the person you trusted most betrayed you. You mourn your relationship, regardless of the last few days. You mourn your own face as you imagine the recovery process will be long and draining. You lie there for a while until night falls.

Once it's dark out, you sneak to the old gym building to use the showers there, hoping to avoid running into anyone and having to answer any questions about your battered appearance. No one uses the old gym because it's full of spiders and has a terrible draft, but it's still open to the students 24/7. It's your run-of-the-mill college basketball court with a weight room and showers.

You get inside the building and listen to the silence of the empty halls. Peace. You're numb now. You've cried all you can, and the pain has become a dull hum. Now you just want to shower and try to find yourself beneath all the blood. You scale the walls of the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel what you can only imagine is human flesh.

"Oh fuck!" You and the mystery person exclaim in unison, startled by each other's presence. Still on edge, you duck down, covering your face. The light flips on and you recognize the sweaty figure who stands before you. Billy. He comes to this gym for privacy in the weight room and always has. Not as confident as his demeanor would lead you to believe.

"Had to be you, didn't it?" He rolls his eyes. "Did you come here to- Oh fuck, Y/N." His uncreative insult is cut short when you lower your arms, revealing the massacre of swollen features and bloody skin that used to be your face. His mouth hangs open for a moment. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. Like you fucking care, Hargrove. Get out of my way," you're angry, and it feels like you'll be angry forever.

"Hey," he stops you from walking past him by stepping in your path. "I said what happened?" His voice sounds different. Like you've never heard before. Uncharacteristically concerned, but don't let that fool you. It's still not a lot of concern and it's quite monotoned. His eyes search yours for any kind of answer and it's the least arched his brow has ever been. He's being so... Quiet. You're silent too, stunned by his behavior.

"Thought you were gonna kick my ass too, Billy. You scared now?" Your remark is meant to be a bold taunt, but your voice cracks as you fight for your life to hold back tears.

"Y/N, I'm serious. Who did this to you?" He asks sternly, losing patience by the minute. You still can't seem to trust him enough to open up, so you look down at the ground in silence. "Fuck it. Come on." Billy's long legs float him swiftly down the hall and you hesitate to follow, ultimately deciding all these years arguing with Billy have at least felt better than the last three days with Andy. He leads you to the empty men's locker room where he retrieves an old first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the coach's office, then he makes his way to a locker and retrieves a clean shirt. It's soft and worn in and has the name of your university written across the front.

"Thanks," you mumble, taking the box and other supplies from him. You douse the shirt in water and begin to try to wipe your face clean. There's no mirror, so you can't quite tell what you're doing, causing you to scrape over your open wounds and flinch.

"Just fucking," Billy snatches the damp shirt from you. "Let me do it." He's careful and thorough as he gently works the soft, wet fabric across the new and old blood covering your identity. You can't help but stare at his eyes as they focus so intently on each section of your face that he wipes clean. Just as he's finishing up, his eyes meet yours for a moment. It's a short, little second, but it felt so drawn out. Billy breaks the eye contact when he sets the shirt to the side.

"That should be okay, for now." He reaches for the kit in your hands.

"I can do it, Billy," you remind him, yanking the box away, rejecting any more gentle touch. It doesn't feel like you deserve it right now.

"Let me help," he demands softly, popping the little tin box open and rummaging around for bandaids and antibiotic ointment. He patches you up and while he's working, you're watching his intense face. His brows are arched and his lips every so slightly pursed. You can't clock what emotion he's feeling. Obviously, he's expressing some sort of sympathy, but he hates you. He always has. So maybe he's just having a human moment.

"What's the matter with you, man? Are you fucking with me?" Your guard begins to rise again. You don't trust your own intuition anymore. You tighten your grip around a plastic pair of scissors from the first-aid kit. Billy notices and releases a laughing sigh.

"No, I'm not fucking with you." He places one final bandage. "You're insufferable as fuck, but I don't think you had this coming." He looks you up and down. That's as close as Billy can get to "comforting" anyone. "Don't stab me with those." He points to your hand and you blush, a little embarrassed by your overly-cautious behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Billy?" You ask, point blank as you release the scissors, catching him off guard.

"Because you're the worst. You're loud, you're egotistical, you're an ugly crier," he chuckles, all too quickly, being put on the spot.

"You're just describing yourself," you knit your brows, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes after his ugly cry comment. "I'm serious. You'd think we'd have so much in common. You hated me the second we met. Why?"

"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm putting bandaids on your split fucking eyebrow. You're just fun to get a rise out of." Billy closes the kit and tosses it aside with the bloody shirt. It's not news to him that he torments you because of a mix of annoyance and attraction, but you have no idea. What started as his catty attempts to pick you up turned into an all-out rivalry when you were the first girl to tell him to shut the fuck up instead of batting your eyelashes at him. To you, he's just a mean dude. But right now, it's like he's someone else entirely. When he's acting like this, you're finally able to see what makes him so irresistible to every girl on campus. Your rivalry kept you blind to it, but now, you can see his brilliant teeth in his wide, warm smile. You can see his sunflower eyes, framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His jawline, his shoulders, everything about him seems so beautiful to you now.

"Thank you, Billy," you smile weakly. He scans your swollen features and something in him awakens. A possessiveness. Rage ensues. Every opinion of you he's ever had melts away except for his attraction to you. Your voice, your mannerisms, everything he's ever absolutely torn you to shreds for, suddenly he admits to himself that it never bothered him. In his eyes, you're his, even if you're just a target for his teasing, a bit of banter around the school, you're still his.

"You never said who did it," Billy chews his inner lip, trying to keep calm until he gets the information he needs from you.

"It doesn't matter-"

"It matters. Who was it?" His voice is stern and sharp. He's still knelt close to you even though he's done tending to your wounds.

"It just... Happened so fast..." You flinch as you recall opening your eyes to his incoming hand.

"Start from the beginning," the sternness in his voice softens. You give him the full run down. Billy's face remains stone, motionless, but his eyes twitch and flutter with each gruesome new detail dragging him further down to the point of no return.

"We've been together so long. I never thought..." You hold your hands up in confusion, dropping them hopelessly in your lap.

"A name. Now." Billy stares deep into your eyes as he makes his demands. You can almost feel a heat coming off his gaze as it bores into you. It's clear he will not relent until he gets the answer he's asking for.

"His name is Andy." That's all Billy needs before he's standing up and exiting the locker room without another word. "Billy?" You call after him, still sitting on the bench. You finally stand to follow when you don't hear a response from him. "Why do you care?" This stops him in his tracks. He turns around for a second as if he's going to explain, but he never does. He tilts his head with a small shrug and disappears. "Wait!" You call, but the exit door is already closing behind him and he stalks off into the dimly lit campus. He sparks up a cigarette on the way, exhaling a large cloud behind him. Andy better have life insurance.

Billy ponders your question as he makes his way across the courtyard. Regardless of any flirtatious feelings he has for you, this comes down to wishing he could've defended his mother in this same way. He was too small then, he's not now, and Andy's about to face the full extent of that rage extending all the way back to his childhood. For now, it's personal.

You take the time alone to have a quick shower to wash away the blood in your hair and hopefully make yourself feel a little better. You're careful not to get your face wet and ruin Billy's careful doctoring. Once your shower is finished, you grab your bag and head back to your dorm. It's still dark, so you keep close to the dim, yellow street lamps that lead to the student housing. There's a dull hum that vibrates from each light post, it's all you can hear, all you can focus on to make yourself stop thinking about Billy.

Back at your place, you lock the door as many times as possible before shakily taking a seat on the small couch. You flip the TV on, just to have something to fill the silence. Every time someone passes by your door, your heart rate leaps and you lose control of your breathing. After the third or fourth time it happens, you seem to desensitize. Billy's new demeanor he has toward you is all you can think about. The softness of his words, his touch. You didn't think he was capable of it. You curl up, pulling your legs to your chest as you snuggle into the plush cushions, nearly dozing off, trying to remember the way his shirt smelled when he was using it to clean you up.

Billy's hell-bent on getting his hands on Andy, tonight. Crossing the lot, he reaches his car and slides inside. His face is blank as he stares ahead, with only one objective in mind. He follows the sound of blaring house music to a nearby frat house and angrily tears the door open. Wasting no time, he walks right up to the first person he sees.

"Where's Andy?" He asks, yelling over the music. The first few people have no idea who he's looking for until he comes to Tommy. "Where's Andy?"

"Andy from Econ? He's upstairs. Dude's super stressed about something and took a bottle up there. Finals, man." Tommy laughs, but Billy's already walking away before he's even finished his sentence. The entire party becomes muffled beats in his ears as he climbs the stairs in pursuit of the man who made you look like a bad Halloween decoration.

First door, nothing. Second door, nothing. Third door, Billy slings it open and a stressed out, curly-haired brunette man jumps out of his skin.

"Fuck, dude! You fucking scared me!" He exclaims.

"You Andy?" Billy asks, already breathless with anticipation.

"I- yeah? Why?" Billy answers his question by crossing the room in the blink of an eye and scooping him up by his shirt. He slams Andy against the wall, eyes wide with unbound rage. "What the fuck are you doing, man?!" The commotion can't be heard over the party below. It's just the two of them.

"You know how much of a pussy you gotta be to beat up on someone half your height?" Billy strains through gritted teeth. This is a thin reference to what you said to him when he let his emotions cloud his judgment and threatened to kick your ass.

"Wait... Y/N? She's alive? Jesus Christ..." Andy's eyes nearly roll back with relief and Billy looks at him disgusted.

"What? You thought you beat her to death? Then, you just left her there and went to a party?" Billy raises his eyebrows, almost seeming to smile. "That's fucked up, man." He slams Andy against the wall again, harder, to accentuate his point.

"Come on, dude. Whatever she told you-"

"I'm not here to talk about her." Billy silences your cruel, long-time partner. "Right now, we're not gonna talk at all."

"Dude-" Billy tosses the guy to the floor, cutting off his futile begs.

"I think right now, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you," Billy kneels at Andy's side. "And then I'm gonna go fuck your girlfriend."

Billy lands punch after punch, unintentionally mirroring the way Andy laid into you. The only difference is that Billy's got a lot more size, muscle, and strength training than Andy. He lays into him, pummeling in any way he can figure out to mimic all the bruises and blood he could see on you. Billy grips Andy's shirt by the shoulders and forcefully pulls him to his feet just to uppercut him in the stomach, over and over. Blood and saliva fly from Andy's mouth as Billy hooks his fist up against his stomach.

When he's finally done, Andy's no more than a gargling mess on the floor. Properly bloodied just like he left you. Once again, Billy kneels down to Andy, establishing dominance and reminding him who he's fucking with now.

"If you come near her again," Billy inhales and exhales a shuddering breath as adrenaline continues to surge through him. "I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. There is no hiding, I will fucking kill you." His threat is no more than a low whisper before he stands and leaves Andy to wallow in his filth.

Billy's drive back is short and sweet, but he doesn't trust Andy or his entourage of prissy jock boys, so he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot in front of the women's dorms, and makes his way to yours. He's always known which one you stay in, though finding out was an accident while he was being snuck in by one of his one-night-stands. It was common practice, hence why Andy pretty much lived with you since he had a shared dorm on the men's side.

He raises his hand to bang on the door, but hesitates, knocking softly and even calling your name through the door so you'd know it was him.

"Y/N, it's Billy." You smile with relief, still steadying your anxiety from his initial knock.

"Billy? How did you know which dorm was mine?" You question as you pull the door open.

"I knocked on every single one. And asked for you by name. At 11 PM." He looks at you, straight-faced, annoyed that you think so little of him.

"Are you fucking serious? They'll crucify me," you sigh, unsure if you can even feel any more stress at this point.

"I'm fucking with you. I know where your dorm is because I pay attention."

"And here I thought I was so annoying," you chuckle. There's a short silence between you, something unheard of for you two. "Do you, um, wanna come in?" You step to the side, inviting him in. Nervous, but not sure why. He's never had that effect on you before.

"No, you're coming with me."

"I am?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I just stirred up a lot of shit, probably. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here alone." His words are compassionate, but the delivery is so blank, that you'd think he didn't actually care at all.

"Oh, alright. Let me grab some stuff." You gather your things and follow Billy to his light blue Camaro. He opens the door for you, but even he's wearing an expression that says this is a foreign act of kindness for him. He closes the door and takes his spot in the driver's seat. Billy glances over at you, but you're peering out the car window, searching the shadows for movement. The copper-colored light shining from the street lamp illuminates the high points of your face, exposing your expression as he watches the anxiety dissolve into comfort. Something about being the cause of it strokes his already inflated ego.

"You know what?" You break the silence, turning to meet Billy's gaze.

"What?"

"Contrary to the way my face and body look right now, he really can't hit that hard." You raise your eyebrows and nod, reassuring him that you mean that with your whole chest.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't give him a chance to swing." His grip around the steering wheel tightens, but he grins proudly.

"Don't worry, I took enough for the both of us," you joke, earning a shocked laugh from the curly-haired man you positively loathed just a day or so ago.

"I dunno. I think you could've taken him if the circumstances were different," he smirks at you, chin up.

"Oh, absolutely. If the emotional ties weren't there, we'd at least have gone a round or two," you mimic boxing the dashboard. It's obvious to both of you that this is not the case, but making a joke of a bad situation is a lot easier than crying. Billy's relieved, as he would have zero idea how to even approach you if you were crying. He's the "tell you you're not a pretty crier and then wonder why you cry harder" type of guy.

"Matter of fact, put me back in coach," you chuckle, accidentally reopening the split on your lip. "Oh, fuck," you mumble, pressing a finger to the wound, worsening the mess.

"Shit," Billy grabs a napkin from his glove box. "Don't touch it," he snaps. You quickly pull your hand away from your face and for just a moment, your breath hitches in your chest. You don't mean to react this way, you're not scared of him, you hope he knows that. He gives a small smile and a nod, almost like a silent apology for scaring you. He holds the napkin to your lip for you as he pulls into the Men's dorm parking lot. His family, much like yours, paid the extra fees to have a large dorm room all to himself. It was sort of a necessity for Billy considering his short temper and inability to compromise.

"How's your lip?" He asks as you set your overnight bag on his small futon in the tiny living area the solo dorms come with.

"It's fine. I think the bleeding stopped and everything," you smile, keeping it small so as not to pop open another split.

"You can take my bed. I got the futon," once again, his words are so kind and generous, but his tone is flat and bare.

"Don't be stupid. I'm your guest. You've..." You sneer at yourself in disgust as you prepare your next sentence. "You've done a lot for me already."

"God," he stares at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"It looked like you were gonna be sick from saying that out loud."

"Came pretty close, bud." You squint your eyes. It's clear to both of you that this is weird. It's awkward and even a little uncomfortable. He's done so much for you, yes, and you do feel it outweighs all the innocent hell you gave each other, but where do you go from here?

"So, now what? I sleep here. We go to tomorrow's lectures. Then, I just go back to normal?" You don't want to insinuate that you expect him to play bodyguard forever, but it would be kind of nice. You lie the futon into its flat, bed position as you ask.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. 'Night." Billy climbs into his bed.

"Goodnight, Billy," you say, lowering the tough-gal front you attempt to keep up, usually when you aren't dealing with shit like this. Your voice sounds different when you let your walls down. It's sweeter. And the sound of it makes Billy's chest light.

In the safety of Billy's dorm, sleep finds you swiftly. You're out like a light, but Billy can't say the same. He lies with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. His mind is incoherent, bouncing all over from the possibility of the entire college sports program jumping him to the thought of you and him going back to "normal." It all started when he saw you, thought you were hot, but learned pretty quickly how self-assured you are. You would never be the easy catch he was used to and it pissed him off, igniting a multi-year feud between you. What if that feud were to end?

Billy lies on his back, his two muscular arms propped beneath the back of his head. He glances diagonally in the direction where you sleep. You're peacefully out, features slowly healing from the damage. He could stare at you all night, and that pisses him off too. He rolls his eyes and expels an exasperated sigh before rolling over, hoping that keeping his back faced in your direction will help shield him from the ambiguous thoughts invading his mind.

The next day, you're awake long before him, and to avoid overstepping, you rush through your morning hygiene routine and begin to reset the futon. You're as quiet as possible, but the second your fingertips graze the doorknob, Billy stirs.

"No," he says, wiping a hand over his face to rub the sleep away. "Just give me a minute. We'll go together." He sounds annoyed. You shake your head, dropping yourself down onto the futon while you wait for him to wake up.

"It's really no rush. I gotta get back across campus to get ready anyways." You call to him as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom.

"I know you do. I'll drive you, just give me a minute," he waves away your excuses to leave without him, his voice becoming a little harsh as he repeats his request for more time. You know walking across campus isn't a treacherous walk. It's long, sure, but not unmanageable. What's really at stake is you running into anyone from the basketball team. And while that's your main concern, Billy has his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep you around. She's nice to look at, he tells himself, but it's more than that.

He walks from one end of the dorm to the other, wearing nothing but a dark grey pair of boxers. He's so lean and huge with well-toned muscles. He must spend a lot of time in the old weight room. You begin to wonder if Andy's in the hospital or not. Your eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the V shape at his waist. You're unsure if it's your newfound ability to see him as a person, or maybe a trauma bond, but this man has you feeling out of character.

"Alright, car." He points out the door, using his primitive two-word command to instruct you to get into his car. He's still waking up.

"Billy, you know I could've just come back by myself, right? You didn't have to get up so early." You're the first to break the sleepy morning silence in the car. He looks at you like you've suggested possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"I know that. That's stupid. You're too trusting." Billy stares straight ahead through his black sunglasses.

"I guess," you shrug, not taking anything he says too seriously. How could you after all these years? He pulls into the Women's dorm lot and the two of you approach your personally decorated dorm room door. To your horror, the doorknob opens with ease. You forgot to lock it. A wary breath falls down your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, grounding yourself before opening the door. Billy's confused until he finally sees inside. It's just as you suspected. The entire room, top to bottom, is trashed- thoroughly.

"What the fuck?" Billy inserts himself in front of you, taking a few steps inside to further assess the damage. His eyes narrow in anger as he catalogs every broken picture frame and demolished knick-knack. You seemed to have had a lot of curiosities and oddities, all of which were destroyed on your equally ruined floor.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna lose it," you whisper, exasperated. You place your fingers on your temples and apply gentle pressure in hopes that it'll do any fucking thing for the way you're about to break the fuck down right now. "They want me to fuckin' lose it." Your voice is nearly inaudible.

"Hey, okay. Don't... Lose it. Let's go find 'em and beat the fuck out of 'em." Billy grins, still bloodthirsty. It's as if defending you almost feels like having you.

"I'm gonna get dressed. I'm gonna fix my fucking hair and makeup. And we're gonna go to our goddamn morning classes. This afternoon, we will figure out which one of them is getting their mom's severed middle finger in the mail."

"Sure thing, Killer Klown. That's not at all an overreaction." Billy shakes his head, laughing at your misfortune, though he does feel for you. You disappear into your restroom. It's miraculously, for the most part, untouched. You do a quick version of your usual big, glamour hair and slap on your makeup. It feels good to look like you again, even with the scabs and colorful bruises threatening to peek through the foundation. When you return to the common area, looking and feeling more like yourself, you radiate a type of glow. Billy catches himself in the very initial stage of staring but quickly nips that in the bud. You hardly notice.

"I guess I'm ready. You walking me to class, big guy?" You ask, teasingly.

"I am."

"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but this isn't nes-"

"Y/N, have you looked at your dorm? Do you see how every single thing you own is destroyed? Stop being an idiot." His harsh words carry an air of motivation with them as he scolds you.

"Fine. But you're gonna have to pick up the pace or something," you snap your fingers repeatedly, in a circle to show him it's time to leave, now. He sighs, standing and leading the way out the door.

He walks you to your first lecture and waits outside for the entire hour. You don't know, but he actually doesn't have any classes today. He just knew you'd make a big deal out of it if you knew he was going any more out of his way than he already is. All 60 minutes drag by painfully slow, but all the while, Billy notices a few familiar faces casting passing glances into the building, only to suddenly change direction when their eyes meet his. He huffs out a satisfied sigh.

"Don't even think about it," he whispers, staring out the small door window. He glances at the clock, and just a moment before the lecture hall dismisses, he steps outside and waits for the crowd. After a handful of peers pass by, he then walks inside, keeping up his ruse.

"Oh, just in time, I guess," you say, meeting him in the middle of the breezeway as if he'd come from the other end of the college.

"As always," Billy sighs, unbothered, indifferent. You don't mind. It's a peaceful shift from his usual behavior before everything went down. The two of you step out the door and immediately, your eyes meet Andy's. He is standing around his car with his goons. They're all staring, not at Billy, at you. An intimidation tactic that might've worked before, had you not been walking next to a brick wall of a man. As the two of you strut past the bitter sportsmen, you hear Andy decide to pipe up.

"Told you she was a slut. It's already happening," he laughs and his teammates join in. You are unfazed by this sort of insult. Before the trauma at the hands of Andy that you'll now have to work through, you've always been a confident, self-assured person. At least that's all you'd allow anyone to believe. You shake your head at the insult, but when you look beside you, Billy's nowhere to be seen.

"That's pretty bold Andy. How're you healing? Doctor already tell you it's safe to get your shit rocked again?" Billy smiles sadistically as he stalks up to Andy. His crew of bench warmers seems to tighten up, taking a few steps closer, surrounding Andy. Billy can't hold back his laughter.

"Are you guys gonna jump me?" He asks, taunting, grinning as he does. "You think it's gonna be easy because there are so many of you?" Billy's only getting closer by the second, and the confidence of most of the players begins to waver. "Do you think I'll stop if I get my hands on you a second time?" Billy's icy blue eyes are dark with rage, almost black in the right lighting. They bore into Andy's and the two men fall silent.

Eventually, Andy's the one to back down. As expected, of course. And from the look on his face, you'd think he'd just been mugged and told his mom died. Billy smiles, tongue between his teeth as he watches the team climb into their cars. They have a visitors game, so you won't have to deal with them for the next 48 hours at least. As Billy returns to where you wait for him on the sidewalk, he wraps a protective arm around your shoulder. You're visibly jarred by this action, but Billy just stares straight ahead, leading you back to your dorm. He's wearing a self-satisfied grin as each and every busybody on campus whispers when they see the two of you.

Billy's a known bachelor and you're a known bitch. Even his more reoccurring hookups never got the public treatment. And you, fuck you're mean sometimes. Andy liked that about you. You'd be mean to anyone but him, but you guess it just stopped being enough. Even you and Andy weren't exactly "public" with your opposing schedules. You'd only ever been seen together at parties.

You finally reach your room and Billy leans against your counter, silently smiling at you as if he expects you to say something.

"What?" You ask, already starting the clean-up process.

"Just thought a 'thank you' would be in order." He shrugs.

"Thank you, Billy. Please hand me the broom," you groan, pointing to the tiny closet in the kitchen area. He rolls his eyes and carries the broom over to you. You're picking up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placing them into a small trashcan, hoping to make sweeping easier.

"Careful," Billy says as he notices a crack in the shard you're holding. His warning didn't reach you in time though, and the piece snapped, catching the upper part of your palm, slicing it open. "Jesus fucking-" Billy drops the broom and you follow him to the counter where he tears a wad of paper towels off the roll and shoves them into your hand. He stares at you with a straight face, almost like a disappointed parent. You stare back, blinking.

"What?" You ask, daring him to give you a hard time or risk being kicked out of your domicile.

"Nothing. Just getting tired of having to play doctor for you all the time." You release a huff and he smiles, a little sweeter than before.

(Do we want a part 2? Do we still read angst or are we all into smut rn? Maybe sex next chapter. idk.)

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

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

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

————

November 1985

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

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

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

“You have work today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Besides what?” 

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

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

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

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

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

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

————

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

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

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

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

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

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

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

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

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

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

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

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

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

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

“Really?”

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

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

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

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

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

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

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

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mere then.”

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

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

“Billy.”

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

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

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Billy.”

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

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god.”

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

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

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

“Whatcha doin’?” 

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

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

“I understand, Billy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

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

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

“Billy!”

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

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

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

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

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

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

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

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

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

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

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

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

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

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

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

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

You’re healing him. You. 

————

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

gonna pretend i didn’t disappear for two months and come back just to reblog this masterpiece…

The Sinner

You're more than willing to help Billy Hargrove find his faith. The only problem is that he wants you on his knees for a different reason.

Billy Hargrove x Religious!FemReader

CW: Smut, some corruption, religious themes, Reader is holier than thou type, and Billy likes to break things.

Is this a result of my religious trauma? Absolutely.

"Hey,” Billy cornered you one day at the end of school as you were grabbing your books from your locker, “I wanted to ask you something.” You felt yourself staring for a moment, wondering what you had to offer for Billy Hargrove. You did your best to avoid gossip, but it still found you at times. You were smart enough to know that Billy had one thing in mind if he cornered a girl alone.

“You’d have to ask my father if you want to take me out.” You responded nervously, shoving the books into your bag. He chuckled, his charming smile lighting up the hallway. You could feel your hands shaking at the sound. You had never had him actually speak to you unless he was making fun of you reading your bible. He thought your devotion to your religion was something to make fun of. You always reminded yourself that he was lost and would one day hopefully understand. You always prayed for him when he would tease you about it. You didn't think anyone should have to burn in hell for eternity, especially when they were so young and could switch their ways. Then again, maybe that was your father's words inside your mind.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that actually, but noted,” You felt a warmth spreading through your body as you grew embarrassed. You hadn’t actually thought he’d ever be interested in you, but there was only one question Billy ever asked girls, “I doubt I’d get daddy’s approval anyways.” He muttered correctly.

The truth was you did like to imagine yourself going out with Billy. He was attractive, popular. It would be like one of those cliche movies. Maybe that was why you prayed for him so hard. You wanted him to better himself so you could dream of being with him. As much as you liked to pretend that you were, you weren't any better than the girls in your grade. You wanted him all the same. Late at night when you would toss and turn, dismissing the naughty thoughts that weighed in your mind. Those were the nights that you would pray and pray until you were too exhausted to think anymore. Your father would never allow you to go out with Billy, however much the boy could change. So, you pretended that you weren't interested in him. You'd still sneak glances, but you never told anyone about how you felt towards him, too afraid of the repercussions you would face. God always knew though.

“What’s your question?” You asked after a moment of silence. You swung your bag around your shoulders before pulling your bible from your locker. It was black and leather bound, and you liked the way the words were printed neatly on the pages. For some reason it made it easier to read.

“I want to repent, but I’ve never prayed before. I was hoping you’d help me.” Billy looked at you sincerely and you felt yourself growing lost in his blue eyes. A small smile formed over your lips as you pulled your bible towards your chest.

"You want me to teach you how to pray?" You repeated, filling yourself grow with pride. You couldn't believe Billy Hargrove had come to you for help. He nodded, almost bashfully as he looked over his shoulder, "I'd love to, but I really don't know how to explain it. It's just, talking to God." You explained, watching how his expression changed.

"I don't know how to do that. Please, I don't want to spend an eternity in hell. Teach me." You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you considered him. You thought of his words again, understanding that you wouldn't want to burn in hell either. It was your job as a Christian to help eithers find the Lord, even if that person was someone like Billy.

"Okay," You responded slowly, watching how he grinned widely at you, "We could do it here?' You questioned him, watching how his blonde curls moved as he shook his head no. You found yourself raising your eyebrow in confusion, wondering why he was denying this location if he was so desperate to save his soul.

"I'd prefer a church. What about the one your dad runs? Is anyone there right now?" You faltered for a moment, not realizing he knew your father's position. You reminded yourself that it was a small town and he had more than likely overheard it from someone.

"Sure," You nodded in agreement, "No, he shouldn't be there right now. We could go by now?" You asked unsure, clutching the bible to your chest. Billy looked down at it, nodding like he was considering something.

"If you're scared about other people seeing you, you shouldn't worry. There's nothing to be ashamed about in welcoming the lord into your life." You smiled, repeating the words you had heard your father preach with hundreds of different times. You sounded robotic, like an exact copy of him. You thought of how proud he would be with you at the moment.

Billy faltered for a moment, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip, "It's not that," He responded easily, "How about I give you a ride over? It's not that far." You nodded, thinking of how it would be a lot easier for you. However, you were worried your parents would grow worried once you didn't arrive home at your usual time. You shook the thoughts away, once again thinking of your father's beaming face once he heard that you had saved a sinner.

“Okay, thank you,” You smiled, completely missing how he already knew the location of your church. You walked alongside him through the long hallway, unsure of what to say, “You know I pray for you every night.” You finally spoke up, meaning it as a compliment.

“Yeah, why’s that?” His blue eyes casted down on you and you felt nervous suddenly. He had such an intense way of holding eye contact. You quickly glanced away and towards your shoes while you walked at his pace.

“I pray for all of the sinners. I don’t think anyone should spend eternity in hell would they could forever live in God’s Grace.” You explained, meaning it in the best way possible. You looked ahead, missing the way he rolled his blue eyes back in his head.

“How sweet,” You felt happy in Billy’s response as you stepped out into the breezy wind. It was warm the sun sitting high in the air. You didn’t even have to follow him to his car, already knowing where he parked from hearing the other girls talking about him, “Here. I’ve got it.” He opened the door for you, his smile shining against you. Your heart hammered as you felt nervous suddenly. You had never been alone with a boy in a car before.

“Thanks,” You slid inside, carefully tucking your skirt under you to keep from sitting on the hot leather seats, “It smells nice in here.” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but you had seen the way he smoked. It was shocking that the car didn’t smell that way.

Billy grunted in response, turning the car on as his loud metal music blared to life. You jumped, completely taken aback from how loud it was. You bit your lip hard to keep from saying anything. Your father had warned you about listening to this type of music. He said it was as good as devil worship.

“Something wrong?” Billy questioned, noticing your expression. You should your head quickly, not wanting to seem fussy over the music he listened to in his own car. You didn’t want to scare him off either. If he was just now learning how to pray she couldn’t imagine trying to explain how the music he listened to worshipped Satan.

“It’s just loud,” You strained your voice louder to talk over the music. You quickly buckled up, realizing he wasn’t going to wait for you to do so before he left, “What about your sister?” You asked suddenly, remembering the small redhead. Billy shrugged.

“She got another ride tonight. I told her I had other plans.” You felt a bit guilty for taking her ride but quickly got over it. You reminded yourself that Billy had done it for a good cause. He was going to he learning of God’s love. That was even more important.

“Oh, okay,”

“Do you have a boyfriend or something?” Billy asked, turning his loud banging music down a few notches. You still had to strain your ears in order to hear what he said.

“No,” You spoke a little quickly and tried to correct yourself, “Daddy says I need a good Christian man.” You thought of what your father would say right now with you sitting in Billy’s car. He wouldn’t think of anything good, that was for sure.

“Huh,” Billy glanced over at you. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes lingered against your bare thighs where your skirt had risen high, “Have you been with someone before?” You could feel your whole body go warm as your hands clenched into fists, not wanting to have this conversation with him of all people.

“It’s up here,” You told him, pointing forward as your fathers church came into view. You purposely ignored his question, not wanting to feel the guilt and shame form in your chest, “It’s not much but it’s nice.” You admitted, unsure of why you found yourself needing to defend the size. You had never worried about it before. Perhaps, a small part of you wanted to impress Billy. After all, he had came to you specifically. Maybe you could change him.

It was tiny and white, with a long dirt path that blew up dust as he drove up towards the dirt parking spots. The sugar maple trees leaves had turned from orange to red as the seasons began to shift into Winter. It was one of those days where it had been chill in the morning, but the afternoon sun had made it hot. You smiled at him, hoping that he wouldn't be too worried about his nice car getting dirty.

“This is it,” You mumbled, thankful when he turned the music off, “I think it’ll be good to pray at the altar.” You responded after a second. He held onto his keys as he watched you

“Why there?” He asked, actually seeming to be curious. You grinned again, more than happy to explain the importance of the altar to him.

“In the Bible,” You began watching as he reached across you and pressed the button to your seat belt. You gulped, feeling the warmth from his hands linger against your side, “It’s where people used to make sacrifices for atonement of sin.” You explained, unsure if you made very much sense by the way he held your gaze. He nodded gruffly, before stepping out. You followed behind him, racing up the short cement steps as your skirt picked up in the breeze. You hastily flattened the material back down before opening the door.

“This is nice,” Billy spoke up after you, lingering behind your movements. You popped your knuckles, trying to walk as straight as possible and keep your hips from swaying, “Do many people come?” He questioned as you walked into the service room. You looked around the wooden, red pews before turning to face him.

“Sometimes. Usually around Easter and Christmas. Daddy says that’s when sinners feel the guiltiest.” Billy tilted his head as he watched you curiously. You dug your heels into the wooden floor, unsure of what he was thinking. You watched in a trance, staring at the curve of his hands as he reached into his back pocket. The church was so quiet that every little sound echoed in the room. Your eyes widened as you watched him bring a cigarette between his lips.

“No, no,” You quickly placed your hand over his fist as he began to open his lighter, “Not here. There’s no smoking in the house of the lord.” You explained quickly, watching how his lips curled up just enough to look as if he was smiling. You could tell that irritated him, but you stuck to your fathers' rules, watching as he placed his cigarette back in his box.

"S'alright," He grumbled out, glancing back up at you. You fiddled with your fingers nervously, unsure of how to speak to him, "Can we sit?" He asked after a second and you nodded quickly. You turned and walked towards the altar, sitting on the front row. You sat your bible next to you as you turned to face him, crossing your legs together.

"What do you want to pray about?" You asked, resting your hand against the side of his face. He faced you, mirroring your position. You thought that he looked far too large for the tiny pew. His shirt was unbuttoned in the manner that it always was. You found your eyes drawn to the necklace on his tanned skin and the blonde chest hair that peaked out from his blue shirt.

"My sins," Billy cocked an eyebrow, shaking his foot as he spoke. His movements were causing the pew to shake lightly, "I've drank, cursed, fucked. You know, all of that stuff." You turned away from his intense gaze, not liking how he cursed in the church. You didn't necessarily need all of that information.

"Maybe you should wait to speak to a preacher over that?" You could think of your father's gleeful face now, thinking of how he would be proud to bring another man like Billy to God's light.

“I don’t want to speak to a priest, I want to speak to you.” He reached across the pew, taking your soft hand in his large one. You stared, looking at how your hands connected. You thought of praying suddenly, trying to remove the thoughts that were clouding your mind. There were times you wanted to be like the other girls and have a boyfriend, but you knew your father would simply tell you to focus on God's love instead.

"Do you want me to write you down a prayer then?" You asked him, your skin burning as his thumb rubbed soft circles against you. You breathed in deeply, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. You pushed your legs closer together, feeling a warmth growing between your legs and shame rush into your chest.

"Maybe you could show me how to do it first? I'm so lost, I'll just follow your lead." He explained. You didn't know how to describe it, but his blue eyes looked darker than usual. You blamed it on the dim lights in the church. You didn't want to risk turning them on and having your father yell at you for running up the light bill.

"Over here, then." You stood, ignoring the wetness that was growing between your legs. You'd have to pray for your own sins later when you were finished with Billy. You walked to the alter, looking at the velvet red cushion that your father had spent so much money on. Billy stood close behind you that his warmth was seeping into you.

"Is he going to watch us?" He asked, sounding almost bitter as he motioned towards the very large cross with Jesus hanging from it. You smiled kindly, nodding as you watched his reaction. You were sure it was odd to see, gruesome even, but you knew it was a reminder to everyone of what Jesus had gone through to save people from their sins.

"Okay," You knelt at the altar, looking up at the blonde boy as he lingered above you, "Sit, with me." You smiled sweetly, completely unaware of the way he huffed and seemed to be growing irritated with you. You were too excited to share something with him that you were so passionate about. Not only that, but you would be saving him from damnation.

You flipped your bible open in front of you, referencing John 3:16 as it stared up at you in a golden hue. It was your favorite quote and the only time you actually allowed yourself to write on your bible. You thought of it as too holy to decimate but allowed yourself the pleasure to do so with this one quote.

"I think I should get behind you, that way I can mirror how you sit." You furrowed your eyebrows confused. You didn't understand how he wouldn't be able to copy how you were sitting by looking at you, but you believed him, nonetheless. Your breath hitched a bit in your chest and your body grew warm as he sat behind you. You moved your knees further apart as he nestled his knees next to yours and reached around to link his large hands over your own. You weren't sure you should be feeling this way in the house of the lord.

"Alright," Your voice was shaky as you spoke up again, ignoring the warm feeling growing inside your stomach. You glanced over your shoulder, noticing how intensely he was watching you. You felt like a trapped bunny suddenly and he was the big bad wolf. You exhaled, turning away and ignoring the picture of Mother Mary that seemed to be judging you. You reminded yourself that nothing you were doing was wrong, "Dear Heavenly father-," You began as you bowed your head and closed your eyes. One of Billy's hands moved away from yours, but you ignored it as you thought of the way your father prayed so powerfully and tried to mirror his words.

"We come to you praying for forgiveness of our sins," You continued, ignoring the rustling sounds that Billy was making behind you, "Billy comes to you, exhausted and needing your guidance to right his wrongs." Billy made a sound behind you, and you felt your eyebrows raise but kept your eyes shut. You were slightly worried but then remembered he had come to you for assistance. You reminded yourself of how eager he sounded to learn to pray earlier. You hadn't allowed him to smoke either, perhaps he was acting out of nerves.

"Billy invites you into his life-," Your voice caught in your throat as you felt a slight breeze underneath your skirt, feeling it lift above your thighs. You gulped hard, too lost for a second on the shivers that crossed your skin before you snapped your eyes open, "What are you doing?" You rushed out, turning to look at him.

"Praying with you," He replied simply as his hand toyed with the hem on your skirt. You felt your mouth turning dry. It had been so long since you had been touched in this way. It brought shame to you as you thought of the previous incident. One night at church camp was all it took for your father to think the worst of you. You had spent many evenings like this, on your knees repenting for what you had done in the dark, "What's wrong?" He asked oblivious as his other hand moved from your clutched fingers and traced the exposed section of your thighs. You gaped, feeling more warmth rush between your legs. You hoped he wouldn't raise your skirt too far to see the wet patch that had formed on your panties.

"This isn't praying," You responded quickly but were unable to push him away. Your body seemed to purr against him, urging for more of his touch as his fingers dipped under your skirt and near your panty line. You burned in shame as your hips moved forward to their own accord, "Billy." You warned as his chest vibrated against your back as he laughed. He pressed up against you and you could feel a hardness against your backside. You fought everything in your power to grind back against it as you remembered where you were, what you were doing.

"We're worshipping God, aren't we?" He rested his cheek against yours and you could feel the tickle of his mustache against your skin as he turned to speak to you. He smelt of smoke and mint, "What are we doing wrong?" You knew exactly what you were doing wrong as his hands curved over your hips and ground his bulge against you. You whined, overly enjoying how good it felt.

"You're praying?" You looked at him for reassurance, watching how his blue eyes held onto you. You felt nervous, but ultimately believed him. Was there really a written doctrine on how you were supposed to pray? You realized you'd have to ask your father later. Perhaps this was completely okay as long as it done in prayer.

"I'm praying for my forgiveness," Billy confirmed, letting the material of your skirt rest against your back as his hands traced over your backside. His fingers gripped the hem of your panties, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You didn't have any protests as he slid them down your thighs, "Keep praying for me. You don't want me to go to hell, do you?" He drew you away from your sinful thoughts and feelings. You blinked back as you looked at the words of the bible in front of you, unsure of where to begin again.

"Billy invites you into his life," You repeated again, taking a shaky breath as he rubbed the bare skin of your backside. You closed your eyes tightly, ignoring the sound of plastic tearing, "To fill the emptiness in him and make him w-whole." The gasp caught on your words as you felt pressure between your thighs as Billy slid his hard cock inside of you. He fit into you perfectly and you felt as if you were putty in his hands. The sounds that left your mouth was pathetic as your pussy squeezed around his cock, urging for more of him. Your hips rocked forward against the altar, elbows digging into your bible and curling up the delicate pages as he bottomed out in you. Moans left you breathlessly as you shook your head, trying to find the words to speak again. He pushed all the way forward, bottoming out inside of you as his balls pressed up against your bottom. He grunted in your ear, lips ghosting across your skin. It was sinful, it was pleasurable.

"Help him to understand your grace, your mercy," You squeaked out as he dragged his hips out slowly before pushing back into you. It felt so good, so good that you were unsure you'd feel anything like this again. You were having a hard time thinking of God when all you could focus on was the drag of his cock inside of your fluttering walls, "Your peace." You finished as you rested your head against your enclosed hands as Billy rocked into you. The grip on your hips was tight as he held you steady. Your knees were burning from digging into and slightly dragging along the hardwood floors. You began to pray for more, to never ever go a day where you wouldn't feel Billy's cock inside of you.

"Fuck," Billy's curse drew you from your thoughts and you felt your mouth open in horror as your conscience overtook your lust. You were letting Billy fuck you on your knees against the praying altar, "You're not so pious now, are you?" His warm breath tickled against your neck as you stared up the large cross that was hanging proudly above the two of you. You trembled against him, your thighs shaking as his cock rubbed against the bundle of nerves inside of you.

"Wrong," You moaned out, your hips pinning against the altar as he drilled into you, his hands gripping your waist and shoulder harshly as he kept you still. Not that you would purposely move away anyways. Your pussy was wrapped around him tightly, coating him in your wetness as you begged for more, "Billy, this is so wrong." You pleaded but you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to continue, to bring you over the edge. Praying had never been this pleasurable before.

“How could this be bad if we’re with the lord right now?” Billy hummed from behind you. Your hands were linked together so tightly that they were turning white from the pressure. Your elbows were digging into the red cushion of the alter as you stared up at the portrait of Jesus hanging above the two of you. You prayed for forgiveness silently, hoping he would understand this one moment of lust.

"It's wrong," You replied weakly, a squeal leaving your mouth as he pulled his cock out until only his tip remained before slamming back into you. He laughed as his lips traced over the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, "F-Forgive me lord." You pleaded, begged even as your body responded differently from what your mind was saying. You knew this was wrong, completely forbidden but you couldn't help how your body was reacting.

It felt so incredible. Your body felt as if it was lifting slowly into the air, warped in pleasure as Billy bent you down harder over the altar. Your hands were still crossed, and you could just barely hear the sound of paper tearing from being pulled against your skin over the sound of your skin slapping together. His rhythm was brutal, and you responded just as eagerly to him, coating his cock with your slick. The sounds that left your mouth that begged him for more, pleaded for him to never stop making her feel this good.

You could remember the way people reacted to your father, cheering him on and praising him during his service. You had never heard anyone sound the way you did at the moment when they responded to God. Billy was drawing out feelings and sounds from you that you didn't think were possible.

"Look at you," He mocked, smacking your cheek lightly, "So fucking desperate for my cock. What would your daddy say if he saw us?" You whined, licking the drool from the corner of your mouth as his cock repeatedly hit against your g-spot. You were so wet, drenching his dick so badly that every time he pulled out it was easier to push back into you and go that much further. Your toes were curling as you cried out.

"He'd be so mad," You whined pathetically, a gasp leaving your mouth as Billy wrapped a large hand around your throat. You moaned when he squeezed softly, tugging your head back so he could lick at your parted lips. It felt so dirty, so wrong as his wet tongue slid inside your mouth. You were desperate, rutting back against him as you opened your mouth wider for him to explore, "Oh God." You took the lords name in vain as Billy swatted at your ass.

"Oh, the poor preacher would be so disappointed in you," Billy tsked as he pulled his mouth away. His cheeks were flushed, lips red and eyes dilated as he spoke full of bitterness, "Knowing his daughter was such a sinner. Letting a stranger fuck, her in his church." He spit out and you turned your head in shame, not liking how his words affected you. They went straight to your core, making you clench around him as his movements became more rapid. For the first time, you didn't understand how something so wrong could feel so good. You felt as if you had been made to be forced upon your knees and fucked in this manner.

“Please stop talking,” You whimpered out, unsure if you could take any more of his words as you felt your stomach muscles tightening together. Your hips were rocking back against him with such urgency, such deprivation as your knuckles turned even whiter, “Billy!” You yelled out as he reached between your legs, rubbing harshly against the bud there that had been begging for attention.

He pulled his hand away quickly before swiftly smacking your pussy. You yelped, the force of his movements pushing you deeper onto his hard cock. You blubbered, moaning as the sensation from his slap traveled across your pussy. It was so embarrassing, but you could feel yourself growing wetter from his actions.

"I don't listen to slutty little preacher's daughters," He yanked on your hair, pulling you back and pressing you against his chest. You mewled pathetically as his cock moved into you harder and faster, "So drunk on my cock, aren't you?" He squeezed your neck, and you felt your face grow warm as the air left your lungs. You felt your eyes beginning to strain before he released his grip, and you were gasping for breath.

"Yes," You whispered out pathetically as he swatted your cheek, making your head more towards the side. You stared at where the piano was positioned in the corner, trying to focus on that instead of the way his hips were rolling into you, "Feels so good." You could feel tears forming in your eyes. You were unsure if it was from the pleasure or the shame.

Billy reached between your legs, his fingers tracing across your folds before rubbing your sensitive bud again. Your whole pussy felt sore from where he had smacked it earlier. You were whining, grinding into his hand as he played with your clit. The sound of the two of you echoed loudly inside of the church and you were sure that anyone nearby could hear your desperate cries.

It didn’t take long after that. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you, stretching you out with each thrust and hitting your g-spot mixed with his fingers rubbing your wet clit had you chanting his name as you shook around him.

"God," You cried out as you came, fully shaking and trembling around Billy as he held you in place. You were afraid that without his strong grip you would've melted into a puddle on the floor. You partially wish you would so you could slip between the tiles and disappear forever, "Oh my God." You repeated.

Billy grunted into your ear, slamming you against the altar so harshly that your hips burned and screamed in protest. You felt your toes curling as he held himself deep inside of you, before he pulled away quickly. You were stunned, shaking on your knees as he gripped your hair harshly and turned you to face him. You stared up at him from your knees, your hands still clenched together in front of you as he pumped his cock with vigor. You watched the lines of his face, watching how they curled into pleasure. His mouth fell open when he groaned loudly and released white, stringy liquid across your face.

You gasped, blinking your eyes quickly to avoid getting any of the liquid in your eyes. You felt the warm, thick goop resting on your cheek before slowly sliding off and landing on your chest, your arm, your bible. He cursed again, reaching down to wipe the goop away from your eyes. You opened your lids hesitantly.

You thought he looked like an angel. Surrounded in golden light with his cheeks red and his eyes dilated. He scooped his liquid from your face, watching you intensely before pushing it into your gaping mouth. You moaned as his thumb pressed down on your tongue. You held it there for a moment, unsure of the taste. It was odd, too salty and musky. His eyes narrowed.

"Swallow it," He commanded, holding your chin in his hand harshly. You closed your lips together but couldn't find the strength to swallow the odd taste. He frowned and pinched your nose together, cutting off your hair, "Do it." He spoke calmly and that scared you. You forced it down, furrowing your eyebrows together and wincing as you felt it settle heavily in your stomach. It almost burnt you.

"That wasn't God," Billy looked down at you, seemingly surrounded in the golden haze, "That was all me." His words left a gaping hole inside of your chest where your heart had once been pure. You could feel the darkness swirling in as it mixed with the guilt and the shame. You gaped, when he spit on you. It dripped down the side of your cheek, moving towards the curve of your lips. You hastily wiped it away, smearing the saliva onto your cheek and palm. You were repulsed with how good it made you feel.

You shook, still sitting on your burning knees as your emotions flooded inside of you. Billy seemed to be enjoying how conflicted you looked at the moment. You had to pull yourself away from his gaze as your eyes searched the altar for some kind of relief. You looked back, gasping as you looked down at your ruined bible. Pages were torn and ink was smeared from the drool that had left your lips. There was a large puddle of his liquid against your highlighted words. You were horrified and felt the swell of tears rising within you as you were suddenly too aware of what you had just done.

"You've damned me," You cried weakly, pathetically as Billy adjusted himself. He tilted his head, a grin ghosting across his lips as he looked down at you. Your hair messy, lips swollen and eyes red. Your knees burned as you moved to sit on your backside. Your thighs were slick from your come and your panties hung pathetically on your thighs as you tried to pull them up between your blubbering. He had taken away your faith and left you with an entirely different craving inside that you feared only he could solve, "Why?" You asked a loaded question, too full of your emotions to care. It was just as much your fault as his, but he had tempted you.

He crouched down in front of you, ignoring your rules from earlier as he lit his cigarette. You stared in horror as he blew a puff of smoke out at you. You suddenly wondered if he was the devil. The bible had spoken of Satan being so beautiful, so appealing that he could easily persuade those who were weak of faith into sinning. You realized your father had been right all along about you. You were weak. The worst thing was that you knew if Billy asked, you'd do it all over again. Despite your shame and humiliation, you would let him take you on the floor of your father's church again.

Billy cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at you as he stared at you with hardened blue eyes. You had thought that they were so pretty earlier, but now all it did was remind you of the terrible things you had done, "We're both sinners now," he mumbled, looking like he had just devoured his favorite meal, "God will forgive you if you just pray it away."

005 Pt.1

1983

My eyes feel heavy and the buzz in my head is killing me. 

I try to move my hand, but it was strapped to the bed. 

Why I’m strapped? Where am I?

My senses were slowly coming back to me, when I heard the noise of opening door. 

“Hello darling” this voice... I heard it somewhere. 

“It’s time to wake up, 005”

005. T-that’s me. 

Slowly I open my eyes. All was blurry, but I manage to spot the figure of Dr.Banner. 

“Why...W-what happened to me?” I croaked, my throat feels dry. 

“You are very brave, 005” he said in low voice, stroking my cheek with his cold fingers, while doctors were releasing my wrists. I tried to sooth the burning feeling of the ropes

“You became more powerful than you’ve already been, darling”

I’m so confused. What did they do. Then a sudden jolt of migraine hit my head. 

I grimaced. 

“Why my head is killing me, Papa?”

He smiled a little to me “It doesn’t matter now, child, it’ll go away” he was holding the strand of my golden hair between his fingers. “Rest now. We’ll check you later for your new training” He glanced at me one more time and leaved with the click of the door. 

I was just laying on the bed, trying to remember, but I can’t. Why can’t I remember anything... 

Then it hit me. A cold sweat broke out of my skin. My whole body started trembling.  My whimpers became louder. I jolted from the bed, my vision got blurry from the sudden movement. On my weak legs I manage to stand up from the bed. Grasping the railing for support I was approaching the metal door. I was so drained, so I collapsed on my knees panting, before started screaming: “W-WHERE IS MY BROTHER?! WHERE IS HE?!” 

I feel the whole room started shaking furiously and the lights flickering above my head. But I didn’t notice this, all the thoughts were running through my head about my brother.

My cries and screams echoed from the lab to the whole dark forest of Hawkins. 

005 Pt.2

Previously 

Me and my twin brother 004 were sitting in our cell. We were inseparable since birth, he was older for 5 minutes than me. Our bond was so strong, that Dr.Banner wasn’t able to place us in different rooms. 

Sometimes a little girl named 011 was sitting in the opposite cell of us. We were keeping her company. She is sweet, innocent and didn’t know about things these people were trying to do with us. She is like what? 12? We were the oldest here, we were 16. I heard about the girl named 008, maybe she was our age. But I’ve never seen her though. That’s it, there are 4 of us. I were thinking about our tattoos: why 005? Where are the others? What happened to them? Maybe its just random numbers…

I was so into my head, that I didn’t hear my brother were speaking to me.

‘’Hey, what are you thinking about, shortie?’’ I snorted at his nickname for me. I wasn’t even this short. Yeah, he was taller that me and so what?

‘’Nothing, brother. Just random things’’ i let out a sigh, rubbing my wrist with the tattoo.

‘’Hearing the voices again?’’ he asked me, looking concerned.

I glanced at him with a small smile ‘’No, not today. Don’t worry about me’’ always so protective.

‘’Than, what’s in your head, doll?’’ he sit beside me, dropping his arm around me. I leaned on his shoulder with the sigh. 

‘’Eh…I was thinking about what’ll happen to us in future’’

He tensed a little and squeeze you closer to him. ‘’I don’t know sis…I don’t know’’

I closed my eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat. His other hand was holding mine. One memory came to my head, I smiled at the thought:  we have our thing, when one of us is sad or nervous, the other is holding their pointer finger in their hand, rubbing the knuckle with the thumb. We have a lot of things like that, but that is my favorite.

When we are alone, we weren’t talking about our powers. I don’t like to talk about it, he too. The comfortable silence dropped between us.

When suddenly the door to our cell was threw open. Two guards came in with Dr.Banner trailing behind them.

We quickly stood up. My brother shielded me with his body, keeping the arm around me protectively. 

‘’Well, well, well…my two strongest twins. I hope you rested well’’ That low timbre of Dr.Banner’s voice was always frightening you to the core. My brother’s arm tightened around me. I was looking at Dr.Banner over his shoulder.

‘’There is a special task for you, it takes a lot of….training and preparations’’ He walked closer to us, 004 made a step back, my right hand was clutching his shoulder, other hand his waist. A sly smirk broke out of Banner’s face, watching us.’’I made a decision: one of you will come with me, so you need to decide yourselves who it will be’’

I feel my brother’s body going rigid, he bring me closer to him, before I clutched him even more tighter. 

‘’You know the rules’’ Dr.Banner said after a while.’’You’ll come willingly, or…’’ Two of the guards grab longs tasers, turning them on. I flinched by the sounds of electroshocks. My body started trembling with fear.

Then my brother’s voice suddenly distract me from the guards.

‘’I will come, but don’t touch her’’ you hear 004 said. Banner’s face broke out with grin. 

‘’W-what are you doing??’’ I whispered in his ear, as his grip on me loosened. He turned around to face me with his hard look on his face.

‘’I know what i am doing, sister’’

‘’Very well, I thinks it all settled’’ Dr.Banner clapped, before made a movement with his hand to the guards.’’Take him’’ The guards came closer to us.

‘’NO, please don’t leave me!’’ I said with despair. The tears filling my eyes. 

004 gripped my arms to steady me. ‘’Listen to me’’ he said while looking down at me ‘’Listen, you’re going to be fine, doll, okay?’’ I were furiously shaking my head, tears started falling.

‘’N-no..no, you can’t leave me here alone. W-what if you don’t r-return’’ My hands were shaking uncontrollably.

’’We don’t have choice…’’ He said while his hands came around me. His left hand was holding me to him tightly, his right came to the back of my head, stroking my hair. I was crying so hard, that i couldn’t breath.

‘’Please, munchkin, don’t cry.’’ He slowly pulled away, while his hands came to my face, brushing away tears from my cheeks.

‘’I love you so much, sister. You’re gonna be okay, I’m sure of it.  You are very brave, smart and strong, my little cupcake’’ He grinned down at me, trying to comfort me with his stupid nicknames. I smiled at his attempt. 

‘’There is beautiful smile i love so much’’ His came closer ‘’I love you, doll, always have and always will’’ I closed my eyes. 

’’I love you too, so much’’ I said with the shaking breath ‘’Always have, and always will’’ 

His lips lingered on my forehead, slowly inhaling. Then he pulled away from me, while I whimpered.

Dr.Banner was watching out interaction, rolling his eyes. ‘’That was very sweet.’’ he said with sarcastic tone ‘’TAKE HIM! NOW!’’

The guards came closer to my brother. 

He was holding my pointer finger with his hand, still trying to calm me. 

I was watching how soldiers were taking my brother from me. Our hands disconnect. My heart was breaking in million pieces. Our eyes were locked on each other, until the door clicked close. I collapsed on my knees, rocking myself, my hands came around me for comfort. I cried and cried until my head started to hurt.

Then everything gone black.