My Girl - B.H.

Hii, can I request an angst filled fic with billy please? I’m thinking he doesn’t die when him and eleven are fighting the mind flayer and y/n is part of the gang and helps fight the mind flayer. But when everything is getting back to normal Billy is having a lot of nightmares and calls you for comfort even tho he’s so hard headed he doesn’t actually admit the reason but you know..

Billy then realises you knew all along he was suffering and he’s shocked with the amount of love you’ve shown him and he wants to be with you but as he goes to admit his feelings to you he comes across you and Steve Harrington out on a date and it kills him..

That night he makes a plan to make you his and when you come home billy is tapping your window asking to sneak in.. I’ll leave it up to you how you end the fic but just a silly idea I had lol and I’d love to see how you write this :)

a/n: This took longer than I meant for it to because I ended up writing way more than I initially meant to so, here you go! (This was so fun tysm bbys) also I wrote with fem reader cause it's what I do by default eee....

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female pronouns)

Length: 6.4k (yeesh)

Warnings: Billy is struggling, mental illness, thoughts of death/dying, Billy curses ofc. OOC Billy a little ooc maybe, mentions of abusive parents

Hii, Can I Request An Angst Filled Fic With Billy Please? I’m Thinking He Doesn’t Die When Him And

My Girl - B.H.

Sleep was meant to be the escape from reality. It was the escape from all the bad things around you, all the bad thoughts and memories that demanded to be heard and seen. A moment in time where there was nothing, your brain was empty, or it felt that way, and you were free.

But people like Billy Hargrove weren't so lucky.

Whenever you sleep, people say you always dream, it's just a matter of whether or not you remember the dream when you wake up. Most of the time, dreams are forgotten the moment you open your eyes.

But people like Billy Hargrove remembered them when he opened his eyes.

Half the time, they were the reason his eyes had opened. They were less dreams, more memories, of that thing. The Mind Flayer. But they always ended differently than how it had really ended.

His corpse, on the ground in the mall, you leaning over him. Begging. Max, crying.

Or maybe it becomes your corpse instead of his. Or Max. Those ones are the worst. The ones where you or she die protecting him, or in his place. Because if anyone had to die that night, it had to be him. It should be him.

Sometimes, in the darkest parts of his brain, the deepest corners he tried to ignore, he truly thought it might have been better if he died. Not just for everyone around him but maybe for himself.

It was hard. Some days were agony, while others weren't. Some days things felt so slow, and unreal, especially the first few weeks after the incident. He had grown a special distaste for hospitals for all the time he had spent in one.

Phantom pains would wrack his body some days, and nights. Some days it hurt so bad, especially his chest where the gnarly scarring lay, that he couldn't do much of anything. Days where his only reprieve lay in a bed that would let him fall asleep for minutes before it woke him up again with harsh reminders of everything. Tonight was one of those nights.

A night where he woke up covered in a cold sweat, quite literally soaked through the clothes he wore to bed into the sheets; pale and rattled as he sits upheaving- it mixes with the sharpest pain in his chest that he has come to expect but it doesn't matter how much he expects it, it still knocks the wind out of him.

For a brief moment, he feels like he's going to throw up what he had for dinner that night. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes close as he tries to breathe properly again; the erraticness of his heartbeat and his uneven breathing only make his body ache. Phantom pains. Like he's there again like he's watching through his own eyes as he takes someone else to be a puppet to it- screaming inside because he may be an asshole but he does not want to do this. The only thing his body can do on his own accord in those moments is cry; it must've been a sight to see. A newly 18-year-old boy, with tears in his eyes as he does horrific things for something else.

Usually, it works. Usually, closing his eyes and just trying to breathe works; kind of. Billy can eventually find his bearings again and lay back down- maybe not to fall asleep again immediately, but just to lay there. Granted, he's not good at coping. He never was good at coping, and any mechanism he ever had has been dangerous or stupid.

Yet tonight it won't work. When his eyes open again, it's still like he's in that moment. It's still like those tendrils are digging into his sides, into his chest, and like he's hearing himself scream as whatever that thing is tries to take one more soul before it too fades away. If he looks down at his chest, he is almost sure that he'll see the gaping wound again.

He needs to talk to you. That's all he knows in those moments as he peels himself from his sweat soaked bed; he has to change the sheets and take a shower. Who knew a person could sweat that much?

Billy had never been so glad before that he had a phone in his room; sometimes he wondered how the fuck he got away with that with his father. Before everything happened, it was something only Billy used in the house, everyone else used the phone in the living room, but nowadays, when Max really wanted to quickly call someone, she would use it too. Anything really to avoid Neil, and Susan at times too; Max said once that complacency could be just as bad as actually committing the act. That still stuck in his mind.

Sitting on the edge of his bed beside his bedside table, the mint-colored phone in his hands, his body cries but he doesn't listen to it. Had he realized the time, Billy may've had second thoughts, not that he cared really what time it was, but you were most likely asleep and anyone in this house could've answered.

After two rings, Billy sighed preparing to just put the phone back on the base and do something. Anything, to calm down. Maybe go out for a drive- but you'd kill him for that one, it was dangerous when he felt like this especially considering when he felt fine he still drove like a mad man. The cold shower sounds nice but at the same time it doesn't; it scares him because he liked it cold. He loved it cold. And Billy never wants to feel that cold again.

"Hello?" you sound tired, you swallow, throat dry.

Billy doesn't say anything at first. What was he doing? It was the middle of the night, and he needed something to ground him again, to remind him he was here. He needed you; somehow it always came back to you, the comfort he needed.

You had just been some girl that watched those stupid bratty kids, one of them being his sister. Someone who had been friendly with them since before Max and himself came to Hawkins. Someone, who in school, offered to show him around if he wanted. Someone that spoke to him as a person first rather than a nuisance or a piece of meat to snatch up. You became so heavily intertwined with him via school, his sister, her friends, and the Upside Down. He wouldn't admit it genuinely, but he was a bit disappointed that you got a job at JC Penny in Starcourt over the other position for lifeguard you had mentioned you might go for to him.

He fucking hated Hawkins when he arrived the previous year. But maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought if you were in it.

"Hello...?" your voice alone made his muscles loosen, if only by a fraction. But now there was a new pressure in his chest, a tightness in his limbs not related to the dreams and memories or the aches and pains- it was related to you and he's not used to it.

Billy hears you breathe out, preparing to hang the phone up, and he reminds himself; he is Billy fucking Hargrove, not a sissy baby who can't talk to girls. Right?

But you were different.

"It's Billy."

He feels silly in that moment and his own name on his lips for some reason doesn't even sound like his name to himself. He was used to being so in the moment with his decisions; live now because it doesn't matter what you do, he won't ever like it- and rarely did he ever regret those decisions truly, but every other emotion in his body was working overtime.

"Oh," your voice seems to perk up but takes on an edge; worry? He can't tell. He still isn't used to the emotion of worry being directed toward him, "What's wrong, is something the matter?"

It's then the words get stuck in his throat. All of the "yes, I can't forget tonight"s and the "I think maybe I should have died that day"s are lodged in the back of his throat. Billy Hargrove is stubborn; there's no chance in hell he is going to tell you the truth. No way he is going to let others really know. Though, he is pretty sure Max kind of knows- she was a lot more observant than he realized till now.

Sometimes, Billy Hargrove is akin to a caged animal.

He is so used to people not caring. He is used to being hit for the small things and the big things; like the time he got a D on his history essay, or the time Max went missing. That is what he is used to. Telling the truth about how he feels is not in his vocabulary, and he isn't sure how to respond when someone opens the cage that he has been confined to for so long; scared that if he steps out, it is the wrong choice, and that choice means punishment. He doesn't trust, but he wants to. He doesn't want to seem weak, but sometimes, he truly is.

"No," he scoffs into the phone as if he wasn't the one who called so late, but you were, "It's nothing, I just..."

Just what? He can't find an excuse. He can't understand himself.

You're wide awake on your end now. If he could see you, he would've seen the way your face softened, eyes half-closing as your brows dipped in sad understanding. He doesn't need to speak for you to know. He is good at hiding, that you figured out, but not good enough because you can hear it in his voice, the way he speaks as he might just start either screaming or crying at the drop of a pen. The way his voice softens immediately after he says no, down to a low whisper, like he is trying to just disappear. The rattle in his breathing that he doesn't even realize himself like he still can't catch his breath properly.

He is hurting. He is scared. You know he is. Nightmares aren't uncommon to you, but you're sure the ones he gets must be even worse than the ones you do, and they must be almost constant. If you were there, you would've wrapped his larger frame into your smaller one and tried to comfort him, but you were miles away in your room.

"It's okay," you finally respond after he loses his voice, his brows furrow, "I mean... It isn't okay, how could it be, after everything?"

Billy doesn't respond, only holds the receiver tighter in his hand, almost thinking it might break.

"I just mean that it's okay to talk about it," you continue after his silence, "you don't need to talk about it at all if you don't want to Billy. But I want to listen if you ever do, and I think Max would too."

You hear a small snort. Billy isn't so sure Max would want to listen. Maybe she would, their relationship had been doing leaps and bounds better than before. Billy never hated his step-sister; in his own twisted ways he loved her, but he hated that it was her mother's marriage to his father that took him away from California- one of the last things in his life Billy could say he truly loved at the time. He's horrible with his words still when it comes to talking to Max or most anyone about anything that troubles him, or saying sorry (which he has- it's just been very awkward and he just can't seem to get it right, not the way he wants to) and he just wishes he could explain why. Why he is how he is, or how he was- still kind of is- someone like him isn't so easy to break and mold, especially with his father still in his life. But he wants to try. He is trying.

"She would," you insist, "I know it's tough between you two still sometimes, and you're both trying to navigate the relationship you both want, but she cares. Like you do. It's just hard for both of you."

Billy thinks about what you're saying in silence again. His actions define him, and they continue to do so every day. Saving the kids and you, and Steve, Nancy- the whole gaggle of people- that night has defined him as well, but it is muddied behind his other actions, ones he had taken out of anger or fear. The time he almost ran over Max's friends comes to mind; he wasn't ever going to do it, but that is their first memory of him. How he treated Max as a whole; the only times he was (almost) not under his father's foot. Or the time he threatened Lucas Sinclair; as much as he didn't want to admit it, it was as much for Max as it was for himself- or so he believed it was.

He saw her upset- and as her older step-brother (albeit an unwilling one) he didn't like that. But even more than that, his mind immediately went to his father. Neil Hargrove wasn't a good man, never had been, never would be. Good at acting like a nice guy; it was how he scored Susan, and he assumed his mother too initially. If someone hurt Max, if Max was upset by someone at school, and Neil saw, or Susan, who would inevitably tell Neil, it would be his fault.

Max fell into his lap, his father would reign hell on him for anything bad in any way that happened to Max because of the fact she was Susan's daughter. He didn't hit Max, but he'd hit Billy because of Max, maybe even in place of her at times, he didn't know. He was glad he never actually touched her, however. Not to mention his father was racist. Lucas Sinclair being near Max, and his father finding out? It would somehow come back down to Billy. And maybe even Max wouldn't be spared from his anger.

There was a bitter part of him towards his sister sometimes too in that aspect even if it wasn't her fault that his father chose to use Max as more cannon fodder to hurt him. But she never really took that into account when she did things like running out the window, leaving him to pick up the pieces. He always picked up those pieces.

The conversation between the two of you was one-sided at this point, not that you minded, nor did he because he still didn't know what he was supposed to be saying.

"I know things are hard right now. I know it has to be hurting a lot still, and I can't even tell you when or if that hurt will ever stop. Maybe it won't, maybe it will just dull with time but always be there, or maybe one day it will just be a distant memory. I don't know. But you do have people who care, Billy, I care. Try to sleep, if you can. I'll be just a phone call away anyways if you need someone to talk to. Or to talk your ear off; I hear I'm pretty good at that."

That elicits a single hoarse chuckle from his chapped lips. He told you that once. He licks them as he takes in a breath.

"Yeah... G'night."

"Goodnight Billy."

Even after he hears the click of you hanging up, he still holds the phone to his ear. He notes that his breathing has evened out considerably and that his muscles are looser than before. His chest still aches slightly with the phantom pain, but it doesn't feel like he is there with that thing in his body again anymore. He's actually sort of cold from the way the cold sweat he had woken up in soaks his sleep clothes; he knows he's taking a hot shower before he lays back down.

It's in those moments, between him finally letting the phone sit back down onto the receiver, and getting ready to move to the bathroom to shower, that he realizes. He realizes you knew all along; well, clearly you did, because you knew what to say exactly when he didn't even say it himself. You noticed he was suffering, and likely always had. When it came to you, Billy Hargrove was naked even when he was fully dressed- you saw through him.

And he didn't hate it like he thought he would.

You were something special. Someone who had made him feel... Loved.

He was almost sure that if you hadn't been there if you hadn't cared for him as you had even when he was a complete and utter piece of crap, then he would actually have died in that mall. He just needed someone to try for him, and always believe in him even when that monster was using his body as its little puppet, and that was you.

Billy Hargrove couldn't imagine a future that didn't have you in it. And he had to do something about that.

_____

It had been a week since Billy had called you in the middle of the night. He'd seen you a few times since, mainly when he was dropping Max off to the Arcade which you happened to work out; the kids were once again subject to the arcade in town and the little shops around there now that Starcourt had been 'destroyed by a fire.'

But those were only small moments, moments where you had a minute to say hello and ask what he was doing that day, and then you were off again and so was he. But he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. All he needed to do was admit it to you. So, on a day he knew you wouldn't be working, he took his beloved Camaro and started the drive to your home.

Billy didn't worry about if your parents answered the door or not, because he was good at charming people. He was good at making good impressions when he wanted to, it was how he got Mrs. Wheeler to bend like putty. But he wouldn't be flirting with your mom.

The way to your home took him through part of town, the part that had the silly little movie theatre that paled in comparison to the one Starcourt had, or even any of the ones he had been to in California. But that was the price you pay for a small town, an interdimensional being, and the Russians in the only big mall Hawkins had had.

Maybe if things went well, he'd take you to that small theatre and-

The stop light turned red, forcing Billy to stop his Camaro right beside the theatre. It wasn't a problem, or it wouldn't have been, if he didn't see Steve Harrington walk out of the stupid little theatre with you by his side, smiling and talking animatedly.

You weren't his. So he had no right to feel how he did in that moment. To feel the blood pumping in his veins, in his ears, to feel it boil like hot water on the stove. To feel the sudden nausea he'd feel when he woke up from a dream that was far, far too real. To feel jealous. The burning jealousy in the pit of his stomach gnarled together with the other feelings he felt, and the moment the red light turned green, he hit the gas not caring how over the speed limit he was going. He did that anyways, he liked to drive fast, but now it was for a whole other reason.

Tanned fingers held the steering wheel with newfound emotion; it hurt. He hated the hurt. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to anywhere. So instead, he just drove off towards Lovers Lake and sat in his Camaro.

At first, he had his music blaring on the radio. Max always said that he would go deaf someday because of how loud he played his music. She also said that he was probably already going deaf whenever he didn't listen to her. It always earned Max a half glare and a look of annoyance and the title of shitbird.

But what people didn't really understand was that sometimes, when he played the music loud enough (especially in recent months) it would deafen out the rest of the world and even his own thoughts. It was in those moments, listening to his favourite songs on painfully loud volumes that he wasn't anyone, he was just a guy listening to music.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone that. It sounded deeper than it really needed to be, and he'd rather leave it at just being the bad boy who liked his music way too loud for his own good.

Eventually, the music would run its course. For hours, he listened to the same tapes of music he enjoyed. But now it was just loud and did nothing. Now, it was just loud background noise to the hurt and anger in his chest. In his head.

He really needed to learn how to cope better.

Billy had never been on good terms with Steve Harrington, and he was fairly certain if it had been anyone else with you, he wouldn't have been as upset as he was. He'd still be upset, sure, but something about Steve Harrington scratched at the sorest parts of his brain and triggered an annoyance unbridled.

At first, he wasn't even sure what it was about Steve that got on his nerves. But it was over time, and more recently (everything, he realized seemed to happen so much more recently) that he started to figure it out. It wasn't that he was a popular kid before and now he was quote en quote, nothing. It was jealousy.

Billy realized he felt jealous quite a bit it seemed.

Jealousy for the fact that even if he wasn't King of Hawkins anymore and that the title had been snatched by Billy, he seemed happy still. Jealousy over the fact that he had gotten away from people like Tommy and Carol. Sheep, followers, who never really cared about you as a person but only your popularity and what it had to offer.

Jealousy because he was angry. Angry in general, at the world, and the people in it, and Steve Harrington became the easier target for Billy's overflowing negative emotions that he couldn't find a place to put.

After Starcourt, after everything, the feelings simmered. But they still remained, it was hard for Billy to change his feelings. Especially seeing how people liked Steve and were friends with him for that. Not to mention, that night with Max disappearing, and then Steve lying about it and insinuating he was dumb even though he could see Max in the window? It still bugged him.

But seeing him with you had sparked the fire in his belly again. It was as if every feeling he had tried to quash towards the man had come back tenfold.

Steve Harrington was going to get you. He was going to have someone that Billy actually wanted. Someone that he didn't just look at with lust- one of the first people to ever show him care, and Steve was going to snatch that.

Progress be damned, being nice and not letting his anger or jealousy override him be damned as well- he had to tell you. He wanted you to be his. And if it didn't work out, well, he'd cross that road when he got there he supposed.

That's what he usually did.

___

The music in your room was on a low volume, not wanting to wake your family members in the other rooms. It was late, and you were finally winding down for the night.

It had been a long day, one that left your feet aching a bit, but it was a good pain. One that told you that you'd accomplished a lot during the day.

You fully intended to relax on your bed for a bit, reading a book and listening to the music on your small stereo, dressed in your comfortable pajamas. Maybe you'd grab a snack too, and-

The sound of something tapping on your window made you freeze. Immediate thoughts were full of sudden fear, almost like your body was preparing itself for the flight or fight response. It had become something your body did without much thought, solely because of the past events that haunted Hawkins that very select people knew about. It had been quiet for a few months now since Starcourt, but you had learned to never really truly trust Hawkins to be completely normal.

Internally you knew that you were overreacting in the moment, so you reminded yourself it was fine; probably wind, or maybe a tree branch near your room hitting the windows. But it didn't hurt to check the window. You were glad to have done so because what you weren't expecting to see was Billy Hargrove at your window, looking at you with an unimpressed look in his eyes- waiting for you to open the window.

Which you did, quickly at that.

"What are you doing?!" with the window open, Billy hauled himself up and into your room as you moved to the side, holding your arms out to help him in case he needed it; you doubted he did, you doubted he would want you to help him too much either.

"You have a tall ass window," Billy groaned as he lifted himself into your room, booted feet meeting the wooden floor with a soft thud.

"Cause it isn't meant to be climbed into!"

Not wanting to wake anyone in your home, you hissed when you spoke, closing the window softly behind him. With him in your room, your immediate thought was to check him over, to check if he was hurt in some way, shape, or form that was visible to the naked eye.

People knew. People knew now what went on with him at home, and it wasn't Max who told them, it was technically Eleven, when she looked into his memories, his mind. You had suspicions before; he was someone you cared about, your friend, and his father had never been someone Billy mentioned fondly. He wasn't even someone Billy would mention unless he had to.

Bruises that hadn't been there before, or tired eyes that were past tired and held an emptiness that was much more telling than maybe he realized. Those were signs, those were things you looked for and always had whether he noticed or not.

"Are you checking me out?" he suddenly asked, as your eyes finished a final sweep of his body. The smirk on his lips made your face heat up, and well, it did kind of look that way, didn't it?

"What? No- I was just, well..." you couldn't exactly say it because you didn't know how he would feel about the fact you were looking at him, inspecting him, for any sign of his fathers abuse. It was a sore subject, it wasn't something he liked multiple people knowing.

He rolled his eyes. He either knew, or your hesitance annoyed him. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Billy.

"I don't blame you," he chose to continue the line of conversation, moving to examine your room. He'd been there before, in high school, when you both hadan asignment together. But he never really took it in; it was simple but suited you.

"You're insufferable sometimes, you know that?"

Billy still has the smirk on his face but doesn't respond. It's odd. For the time you have known him, Billy Hargrove has never been the type of man to stay quiet in these situations, never the guy to back down first in a game of sarcasm and witts- and never ever to back down from flirting with anyone he initiates it with.

You're worried. And Billy sees it in your eyes; it's another reminder to him for why he is here.

"Is something wrong?" you speak softly now, moving to turn the stereo volume down completely. It's still a bit jarring that he's in your room nearing the middle of the night, but you had let him in, and you had no reason to turn him away. Not with everything.

"Why would something be wrong?" he was bluffing- you weren't stupid.

"It's almost the middle of the night," you point out, leaning forward on your bed to peer into his face, "and you came to my window."

"Nothings wrong, jesus."

Silence again.

"Saw you while I was out today."

The way he spoke was suddenly a bit more serious, a bit cooler, a bit more fenced off.

"Oh? Why didn't you come over and say hey?"

"You were with Harrington."

Oh.

The way Billy said Steve's last name was like he was talking about a bug he had seen or like he had seen something that made him sick.

"I was headed to find you, and you were with that shithead."

You shot him a look, he sort of made it sound like whatever was wrong was your fault or your being with Steve when he went to find you was an offense towards him. He also didn't need to call Steve names, but that likely wasn't going to change, even with the two of them on more neutral terms.

"Is that the problem?" You probed, mild annoyance on your face, "that you wanted to see me but I was with Steve? You couldn't just... Talk to us both, but Steve was there?"

"Seriously?"

Billy knew he was struggling in that moment with what he came here for. He was still angry, upset. He still struggled with his words and he was surprised it hadn't been the death of him at this point.

"Well, yea? What's your issue with Steve still, Billy it doesn't-"

"That isn't the problem, Jesus christ! It isn't just that I wanted to go talk to you and you were out with him. The problem is that you go around and make me feel these stupid fucking feelings I don't know what to do with, and I see you on a fucking date with a guy like Harrington!"

Oh. Oh.

There was something deeper about this, you knew from the start, but that wasn't the deep you thought it would be. Having Billy be at Steve's neck was something you expected. It was something you had grown accustomed to after everything, especially Starcourt. They could play nice with one another- well, as nice as they could. It was mainly Billy.

"That-" you pause, frozen sort of, if what he was insinuating was true, the he... "A date, with Steve?"

"The theatre."

He said it like you didn't know the word, and like he was losing patience. With you, or himself, you couldn't quite tell. Maybe both. You don't want to get angry with him because you know that will only escalate things further and if you antogonize him now, you may never get a proper answer or response out of him- and your family might just come barging in because of all the noise.

"You don't have to say it," he suddenly throws his head back, looking at your ceiling before bringing his head back down, his blue eyes looking directly in yours, and he looks tired, "It's his stupid fucking hair isn't it? Or whatever the fuck there is about him, I don't know. I came here with a purpose, to tell you, to make you mine. My girl. But-"

He lets out a breathe, an angry one, a frustrated one, one that could blow down a not too sturdy house if given the chance.

"What the fuck am I doing," he said it to himself mostly, but how could you not hear him, he was right there.

"Billy..." you want to reach out for him, to help, to make things better, but he's already pulling himself away.

He's good at that, pulling himself away.

"I gotta go, before my dad decides he wants to check if I'm in my room," he bitterly says, "crazy how he wants to seem like a parent sometimes; piece of shit." It had become quite apparent after Starcourt and Billy's almost death that his father was trying harder to put up appearances; he was still the same man, same abusive piece of shit, but now more people were aware. And that meant something.

Given everything, it was a shot in the dark for you to reach out and grab his wrist. Given his emotions, and the issues with his father, it really could have went one of two ways; he could've reacted badly like a caged animal, or he could've let it happen.

Thankfully it was the latter.

"No, don't," you spoke softly, a hint of pleading in your voice. His wrist is bigger than you realized as your fingers wrap around it; he has a watch on you note and his skin is warm, "Stay. We can talk about this, we should talk about it."

It stops him, you're surprised it does, but he looks at you, incredulous. To him, in that moment, there is nothing to talk about; he has likely made a fool of himself, his emotions always getting the better when he really needs them to stay down. His intention to make you his was gone the moment he came, because when he looks at you and thinks about it, about everything that has happened, he finds himself thinking- god forbid Steve Harrington finds out about this- that maybe he's the better choice.

Not because Steve Harrington is more attractive than him, or that Billy thinks he can't pull someone like you; he's always been fairly confident in himself on the outside. But things are different now. And there's something in him deeper that's more broken than it was before in some ways, he didn't think that was possible. Someone like you? You would only give him kindess, one that he's sure he'd somehow fuck up. He will ruin you like his dad ruined his mom. How can he be anything right now when his thoughts are plagued with a interdimensional being that should have killed him.

He should be dead.

"Y'see," he starts, already preparing to rip himself away, "I don't think there is. This was a shit idea."

"I wasn't on a date with Steve!"

It's the only thing you can think to say in that moment to stop him from leaving, because you don't want him to leave. You don't want him to go back to his father right now, or sit in his car somewhere in the dark, alone with thoughts that he so desperately wants to hide but overtime it begins to crack because one can't stay hidden forever. Especially not with the trauma he was holding onto.

It works, because he isn't moving anymore. Rigid like a board.

"I wasn't on a date with Steve," you repreat in a more calm and even voice now, dragging on his wrist to pull him away from a window, scared that he might just jump out of it anyway if you're not careful, "Steve, he... Sure, he asked me out before, I said no. That was forever ago, and I think he just wanted something to distract himself from Nancy, to feel like he moved on. But he's my friend still, and we were just going to see a movie. That's all that was. I don't like Steve that way."

The unspoken 'but I like you that way' is in the air but you haven't said it. For everything that happened between you and Billy, you're scared. You cared for him, more than some people thought you should. But you had never been one to let people's first interactions define them for the rest of their lives; it was a good thing you felt that way because if you hadn't then you could've very easily been like everyone else who saw him as Billy Hargrove: Asshole, King of the Keg and Hawkins, seriel flirter who was just bad.

It's sudden, but his large hands are suddenly cupping the back of your neck and head. He's gentle, but there's a forcefullness within his touch that makes a tingle run down your spine. Forced to look into his eyes deeply, you see so much. Eyes that he liked to keep empty are full of emotion in front of you.

"All I'm hearing," his voice is low, husky, something only you would be able to hear if there was anyone else in the room with you, "is that I have a chance."

It's so like him. So like him to make it a little less serious than it is. It's definitely a mechanism to dodge the conversations that might just make him uncomfortable, the ones he isn't used to or maybe hasn't even had. And that's okay right now, you'll let him have that for now.

"And that you jumped the gun," you offer back slyly, "it's kind of cute. You'll have to work on it though... And work on having some heart to hearts."

It's a subtle confirmation that you want him. You want him too, like how he wants you. And if he was anyone but himself, it might've made him cry. But instead, it just makes his smirk grow; no, not a smirk, it's a smile. He's so beautiful when he smiles. You wonder if anyone has ever told him he's beautiful; you add it to your list of things to tell him at some point. He's beautiful.

"Cute? You're killing me babe," he whines like he's a child, but you can see how giddy he secretly is inside and it only reaffirms what you said to yourself, "...I'll work on it."

"You deserve to be happy. And we can work on it, together."

Again. Its like you've read through him. Like you saw his thoughts and feelings on thinking maybe he should've died. Or feeling like he can't have this because he will just ruin it. There are no words he can scrounge up as his heart beats heavy in his chest. He can only put his forehead against yours.

It's silent for a few beats as he keeps his hands on the back of your neck, his head tilted down towards yours. It's odd to see him act that way, but it's not a bad odd. It's good. You want to see it more.

"So... My girl?"

He sounds so cocky, it makes you roll your eyes.

"Your girl."

Reblog if you're gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, transgender or a supporter.

This should be reblogged by everyone. Even if you’re straight, you should be a supporter.

2,287K notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

❛ 𝐈𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰,𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧? ❜+ {Akashi, Midorima, Aomine, Kise, Murasakibara, Kuroko, Kagami, Teppei, Tatsyua }

image #bftd collab#knb x reader#knb x y/n#knb x you#knb hcs#knb headcanons#knb fic#knb fluff#knb fanfiction#knb fanfic#kuroko no basket x reader#anime x reader#anime x poc!reader#anime x female reader#anime smut#anime headcanons#anime hcs#manga x reader#manga smut#manga headcanons#anime imagines#anime scenarios#knb smut#kuroko no basket smut#anime fanfiction#anime fanfic#anime fic#anime drabble#fanfic writing#fanfiction

+. CWs—» : fluff, comfort, afab-reader ,established relationship,dacryphillia, mature language, explicit smut, nipple-play, oral sex, mild exhibitionism & PDA, mention of alcohol and cigerettes, unprotected sex, branding, spanking (one-time in case of Akashi), use of pet-names, dirty talk, praising, sub-dom dynamics, power-play, mention of daddy kink, mommy kink, indication of sir kink.

+. SYNOPSIS —» : The blast from the past. Nothing could surpass years of longing than reminding each other how maddening love you two shared other than making love to each other. • tap here to view my works.

+. NOTES—» : this is a part of bftd collab hosted by @cyancherub & @chaos-night happy reading <3

:彡𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞

Keep reading

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izayanara

2 years ago

its just lust — b.h

part 2 to it’s just sex || part 3 — coming soon

a/n: so I was in an angsty mood today. i know someone asked for a part 2 and I said why not. hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts!

contents: 18+, smut, angst, FWB, degrading, f!receiving, oral, swearing

word count: 1k

[ in which the lack of touching from billy questions your actions with him. ]

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 || 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

The more you would fuck billy, the more you started to question his motives.

He was your best friend, but ever since you started this friends with benefits relationship, he wasn’t so friendly anymore.

Granted he was never really the ‘friendly’ type, but the moments that you did have with him that were soft and caring, were starting to slip away. He became a little more possessive of you, telling you not to sleep with others as he didn’t trust their sexual history. But of course, would gladly find someone else to sleep with when it wasn’t you.

It was late, nearly three in morning when you both decided to fuck around.

You were in his Camaro in the school parking lot, the sparse lights that had occasional burnouts, lit just enough of the inside of his car.

His mouth sucking around the wetness of your folds, his fingers gripping tightly at your inner thighs to move them further apart.

He was always so good at eating you out.

It was a tight squeeze, your back hitting against the window as his face was buried into your cunt, it made the sensation all the better.

All you wanted to do was praise him and tell him how good he was being to you as you pulled at the curls of his dirty blonde hair. But you couldn’t. Billy didn’t like that. He thought of it as being ironically degrading.

He knew what he was doing and he didn’t need you to confirm it for him. The last time you slipped up, he didn’t talk to you for a week.

You craved love and care, something Billy didn’t want to give you, and it was starting to hinder the experience of sex with him, for you.

You knew you were both friends, you knew there were no strings attached, but why was the touching and caressing of the face such a heinous crime to him? You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

His tongue was vile. Shamelessly and dominating at your clit. You gripped at your seat and the dashboard of the car for steadiness, he loved tongue fucking you. He loved the way your sweet taste mixed with the lingering tang of his cigarettes.

“Billy,” you whimper out, your head hitting the back of the window. You could see his eyes peering up at you, he was annoyed.

You wanted more friction and you didn’t care if he got upset. You started to rock your hips, your cunt grinding intoxicatingly with his mouth, but the pleasure only lasted for a moment.

Stopping his movement with his tongue, he grips firmly at your thigh, his blue eyes cold even in the dark lighting, “Don’t fuck yourself onto me,” he rolls his eyes, taking a moment to return back to his actions.

Your eyebrows furrow apprehensively, not liking the way he talked to you.

He pulled your hips closer to him to get a deeper taste of your pending orgasm.

Slapping at your inner thigh, his mouth sucks on your clit furiously, humming as his nose buries into the warmth of your pussy.

Your mouth agape as you release breathy moans into the sweet smell of the air, you can’t contain the way his lips and the stubble of his mustache feel against your sensitive core.

“Fuck, Billy,” you unconsciously take one of your hands and grip the back of his hair, pulling his head in further into your trembling cunt.

“Didn’t I just fucking tell you-” he yanks tightly at your wrist from the back of his head, breaking you out of your daze, “don’t ever grab my hair like you own me,” he spits harshly onto your clit, his fingers taking the spot of his mouth to annoy you.

You wanted to cum, but you didn't want to be treated as something disposable. You look away from him, your eyes focused on the building far away from you as he flicks his digits at your bud. It feels good, but you’re hurt.

You move your leg over him, stopping him from touching you any further. You scoot back into your seat, pulling your underwear and shorts up as you cool down from what was supposed to be a build up.

“What are you doing? You didn’t cum yet?” He questions irritatingly.

Propping your elbow up against the window, you stare out into the dark fogginess of the night that surrounded Hawkins High School.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” You ask, your eyes still fixed on the coldness of the fall weather outside of the car window.

“Jesus,” he sighs, reaching for a bandana he had slaying around, wiping you off of his fingers, “because I don’t want you to,” he shifts in his seat, his head leaning against the headrest.

“But why?” You cock your head over at him, your eyes not convinced of his statement.

“Does it matter?”

Scoffing, you shake your head, “Yeah, Billy, it does. You can touch me, but god forbid I touch you?” You let out, “and what about the way you talk to me?” You shoot him a glare. You were upset and his explanation wasn’t good enough. Just because you had a friends with benefits relationship, didn’t mean you deserved to be disrespected by his ego and his persona he so desperately wanted people to know him by.

“Whining like a bitch right now because I won’t let you pull my hair like a dog?” he laughs at your attempt to confront him.

“Fuck you, Billy,” you start to grab at the handle of your door, but he pulls you by your forearm, making you face his condescending glare.

“You know what your problem is? You think because I fuck you, you think I’m yours,” he almost states through gritted teeth, “you’re a charity case,” He pushes your arm away from him, “you think I can’t find another slutty friend to take your place?” he hums, grabbing for his lighter as he pops a cigarette into the corner of his mouth, “you can walk yourself home?” he turns to you, the smoke of the cigarette fuming with the sarcastic smile he gives you, “Right, sweetheart?”

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izayanara

2 years ago

post mugen yoshiwara

1K notes View Post

izayanara

1 year ago

HOW THEY FUCK YOU IN PUBLIC.

HOW JJK MEN FUCK YOU IN PUBLIC. (semi public.)

warnings: semi-public sex, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, exhibitionism, fingering, blowjob, use of vibrators, jealousy, marking, edging, dacryphilia, degradation kink, praise kink. reblogs are appreciated:)

gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, megumi fushiguro, sukuna & yuuji itadori.

Gojo Satoru:

This man will make it obvious. He’s not embarrassed, in fact, he would be aroused by it. Noticing people giving the both of you stares, them noticing the hickeys on your neck, the messy makeup, it’s too much for him. Makes him hard again.

And it would happen at the most random times.

Mostly because he gets jealous, this man gets jealous because of everything. He doesn’t trust the other men around you. So that’s why he likes to show what’s his.

He’s more of taking the both of you to the restroom and fuck rather than a vibrator. Oh, and he loves teasing your legs with his fingers near your entrance, your trembling voice, hot face, making his pants get tighter and tighter.

“You like that. Don't you? Slut. Keep that pretty mouth of yours shut if you don’t want other to know how good i’m fucking your pussy right now.” You couldn’t contain your moans, not even covering your mouth helps. It was too much, he was too much.

“Don’t tell me you’re into that? Of course you’re into that. You fucking whore. I’ll make sure for everyone to know how good you get fucked. This pussy is mine.”

Geto Suguru:

This man is elegant. Uses vibrators, and fucks you in public as a punishment. He might not seem like it, but I swear this man is a JEALOUS man. Loves hanging out with others, sitting at the table while you’re by his side, hands down the table, control in hand and shakily sound coming out of you.

He would have a box of vibrators with different sizes, colors, and levels, just for this time of occasion or whenever he’s in the mood to just fuck with you.

Because he loves that, not only because he gets yards seeing you angry at him, but because of how turned on he gets while reclaiming what’s his.

He’s discreet about it, but makes it clear for you to never disobey him or look in direction towards another man.

“Am I going to fast baby?” He says in your ear, in a slow seductive low voice. Friends talking in front of the both of you, like nothing is happening down the table. “Aw, we’ll that’s so fucking sad for you, you decided to act like a big girl with other men, then take it like one.” He says while leveling up the vibrator, his hand resting on your thigh, looking happily at his friends and laughing at whatever they were talking about.

This was going to be a long day.

Nanami Kento:

He’s not the kind to fuck in public.

Prefers doing it in private, having his time, and enjoying it.

But when you get a little bit too bratty for his liking, he would snicker his legs(shoes) down the table to your center. Slightly moving it through your panties and clit, touching it with the point part of his shoe.

Edging you for release, he would retreat his shoe just in time for you not to cum. Asking the waitress for some water.

But when you get a little bit TOO bratty for his PATIENCE, he wouldn’t say a word. And that’s how you know you fucked up. Wouldn’t care if someone watched the both of you, he makes the two of you enter the restroom and fuck the soul out of you.

“You fucking slut. Couldn’t wait some hours to get fucked huh?” One of his arms wrapped around your waist, while his free hand rests on your neck. “And you need to have it right now. Like the fucking brat you are.”

Toji Fushiguro:

This man wouldn’t care. Not even like Gojo, he would make it SO obvious it becomes uncomfortable for the people around you watching the both of you having… intimacy.

His fingers would roam around your skirt/dress, making it easier for him to touch you, and shamelessly get under it. Touching the wet patch forming on your center, chuckling to himself. He loves knowing he has this type of power over you.

He would finger you to the max, his arm visibly shaking so you could get some pleasure, all while maintaining a smile like he’s overstimulating your core.

“I want to fuck you so badly.” He says while rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Too bad your fucking my fingers right now. I would love to fuck you infront of all this people. Such a piece of art.” A specific curl of his finger was enough for you to reach your climax. Trying to moan the lowest as possible to not bring any more attention, would be in vain, because he would shamelessly get his fingers out and insert them inside his mouth to lick your liquids off.

Megumi Fushiguro:

He’s not into it. Actually, you initiate it. By teasing him in public, touching him by ‘accident’ near his crotch. Showing a little bit more of your thigh to him, being all touchy.

But he’s a hard man to break, so you would get bored and annoyed easily. So that’s why you try to make him jealous.

And he won’t show it, but inside he’s figuring his own shadows to not fucking take you right there and erase that smirk of yours.

Taking advantage of you being way too busy trying to claim his attention while flirting with Yuuji, he went near the both of you and placed his hand on the back of your waist. Plastering a small smile on his face.

Yuuji noticed in less than a second he was mad. His hand traveled down your figure to your ass, your eyes widening looking back at Yuuji who was as shocked as you.

He gave a small almost visible smack, which caught you by surprise and made you squeak at the surprise. Feeling your face heated up, while Yuuji scratches the back of his neck. “Uhh…” He looks down at his phone, thanking god he has a way of leaving this situation. “Gojo-Sensei is calling me. Talk to you later guys!”

He sprinted as fast as possible towards the door, leaving the both of you alone. Wasting no time he laid you down on a desk and started taking your panties off and unbuckling his pants.

“You fucking whore. Can’t get enough of a cock you want another one huh?” He said while thrusts, a phone on his hand recording your fucked uo faces, tears dried down your cheeks. Messy moans and whines coming out of your mouth while he records the entrance where his cock appears and disappears inside of you.

The next day, he would ask Yuuji to meet him alone and show him the video. Threatening him to never let himself be that touchy with you.

Sukuna & Yuuji:

This would be more of a threesome tbh, this isn’t a lot like “public sex”, but i’ll start with explicit comments coming out of Yuuji thanks to a sukuna mouth appearing on his cheek. Saying how good your ass looked in that dress, saying how he wants to rip it apart and fuck you infront of everyone. Calling Yuuji a virgin and saying he has the same thoughts of you.

Yuuji would be bright red, looking at his classmates who were shocked and laughing at him at the remarks of Sukuna.

So that’s how you ended up in his room. Someway Sukuna and Yuuji being in control at the same time, while you fuck his cock in your mouth and ride his feet which has a mouth on it. Sucking your clit and tongue circling your entrance, until he appears with another arm and fingers you.

“Nn-ngh~ Don’t stop! You’re such a good girl…” Yuuji said while bobbing your head with his hand on top of your head. “She’s more of a brat. She’s teasing a lot, stop with that.” Sukuna said, curling his fingers just right, making you moan with his cock inside of you. Sending vibrations which made Yuuji moan and release inside of you. “Step back kiddo, it’s my turn to fuck with her.”

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izayanara

1 year ago

Rengoku x Kocho Sister! Reader idea

This is just something small I’ve been toying with so… idk if I’d ever turn it into a full blown smut fic but Ehehe

Rengoku was a bit mortified when Kanae and Shinobu Kocho cornered him one afternoon while leaving Kimetsu Academy. “Rengoku-san~” Kanae’s voice was as light as air, but he could tell by the look on her face that he was in huge trouble. “Good afternoon… you two…” he shifted a bit, clutching the strap of the bag resting on his shoulder. “We’d love to have a chat with you, Rengoku-san.” Shinobu was smiling as well, but the vein protruding from her forehead gave him every reason to be scared.

“O-oh? What about?” He laughed nervously, eyes shifting between the two sisters. Typically there was a third with them… you. For you to not be present, he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. “Oh~ I think you know.” Kanae smiled, motioning for him to follow the two of them. He sighed, heart hammering as he begrudgingly followed the two sisters. They brought him around to the side of the school, the track field off in the distance with kids practising for the future track meets.

Once they were a fair distance away, where nobody would disturb them, Kanae turned to face him again. “So, Rengoku-san~ Shinobu and I just want to ask you a few things~” his eyes shift nervously to Shinobu, who’s smile has dropped, her face is stoic. “Of course, ask away.” He swallows nervously, the collar of his shirt feeling suffocatingly tight. “As you know, my little sister y/n just became the new school nurse…” he tries to still his breathing.

Though there is no point in getting overly nervous considering it’s quite obvious the two sisters are already aware of what’s happening “y-yes I.. we’ve met” Shinobu scoffs a little. “Let’s not dance around the subject, sister.” She glances at Kanae who seems a bit sad her little integration is getting cut short. “Fine, fine~” she clears her throat, smile dropping as she stares at Rengoku. “You’ve seemed to have taken something from her, Rengoku-san~”

He flinched, nodding. He was convinced they had been so careful, though it seems the Kocho sisters had eyes and ears everywhere. “Did you at least have the common sense to use protection?” His cheeks are turning red as he quickly nods. “W-we… I promise we were careful! Protection and everything…” he swallows, absolutely mortified that they had been caught. Or maybe you had told your sisters about it, either way it didn’t help his warm face.

“Good, good…” but something seems a little off. “You used a terrible brand, you know, they are notorious for failure… I’ll have to keep a close eye on my little sister.” Rengoku stiffens, realizing what is being implied. “F-failure?” Shinobu and Kanae both nod. “Geez, Rengoku, even my little sister Kanao knows those things suck ass…” He’s practically neon red now. “Oh…” his hand is coming up to hide his face. “I went by Uzui’s suggestion…” Shinobu nearly fell over at that.

“Kanae! She’s definitely pregnant if this fool is taking advice from that womanizer.” Shinobu ground out, arms crossing as Rengoku seemed to curl in on himself. “Now Shinobu, while he may be foolish to take advice from him…” Rengoku cut Kanae off, dropping to the ground before the two and bowing deeply. “I-I know it’s a stupid mistake but I promise you I truly care for your sister, y/n. She means the world to me and if it just so happens she’s pregnant I will support her in whatever she chooses to do.”

Both women looked surprised but after a moment Kanae smiled. “My my, Rengoku-san~ I believe your words are sincere.” She trailed off a bit, waiting for the man to lift his head. “But please understand, if you do anything at all that brings y/n any sort of sadness” Shinobu cleared her throat “she means anything, Rengoku.” Kanae smiled a bit “then you’ll have to face our wrath, as well as our baby sister Kanao’s.” Kanae concluded. For some reason, Rengoku felt like Kanao was the one he should fear the most of all. “Understood, ma’am.”

Both women smiled “good, good…” Kanae watched him stand, Shinobu had begun walking away as Kanae grabbed Rengoku’s collar. “Next time, take her back to your own place. I’ll give you credit, you two stayed pretty quiet but… not quiet enough.” She patted his shoulder after she let him go, turning to catch up with Shinobu. Rengoku stood there, red from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. It took him all of three minutes to regain his composure before making his way back to the front of the school.

“Oh! There you are!” You smiled sweetly at him, waving as you exited the academy. A sense of relief washed over him seeing your sweet face. “I missed you.” Was all he could utter as he crossed the distance and hugged you. You laughed a little “I take it my sisters got a hold of you?” Rengoku nodded, mumbling out a “yes” as he hugged you tighter. “I figured they’d find you, it’s impossible to get anything past them” you let go, holding his face in your hands.

“D-did you tell them?” You shook your head. “No, they kinda figured it out on their own… I’m surprised it took them this long to say something to you.” He sighed, hands holding your waist. “The weekend break protected me” he chuckled softly, kissing your forehead. “I suppose that’s true.” You laughed, taking his hand in yours as you began to walk off of campus. “Did they give you… the talk too?” Rengoku asked cautiously. It wasn’t sure if this whole “pregnancy” idea was their own scheming or if you had given them any reason to think you were.

“Oh yeah, they told me the brand of condoms we used suck… which I’ll be honest, I knew they did. But ya know, heat of the moment and everything I didn’t really care.” You shrug, swinging your arm as you walk beside him. Rengoku blinks, surprised that you were fully aware and still decided to go through with it. You glanced over at him, chuckling softly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Famous last words, he was certain of it now. “If you insist”

Was all he could muster, walking you in the direction of his apartment opposed to your family home. As he walked beside you, he had a funny feeling a lot was about to change over the next year.

397 notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

*pops in* can.. we ask for more? If not please ignore this and I am sorry!

Buuuut if yes...

Can I ask for kabedon with Kiyoshi Teppei again? 🥺

I just.. his height is just.. asking to be put into this situation????

I absolutely LOVED the neck kisses with Teppei! Thank you so much for writing it.

kabedon with kiyoshi » kuroko no basket

*pops In* Can.. We Ask For More? If Not Please Ignore This And I Am Sorry!

“Shh.. hold still.”

Pressing his large body over yours a bit, he leans his forearm on the wall above your head and looks at something to the side.

You can’t really focus, your cheeks flushed from the close proximity Kiyoshi is with you, feeling his hard-worked abs against your skin.

“There.” He returns his attention down at you and offers a sweet closed-eyed smile. “Sorry about that, I had to do that in order to get those guys away.” He sheepishly laughs while you just silently shake your head.

“H-hey, you okay?” Kiyoshi doesnt move as he notices your silence and lowered head, so he leans down to get a look at your face. “Did I hurt you?”

His soft voice is by your ear, sending shivers down your skin and your cheeks warm further. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your red tipped ears and he blinks, before smiling and giving a soft hearty laughter.

“Oh, sorry [Name], I didn’t realize- but your blush is quite adorable, so maybe I’ll do that again sometime?”

I’m sorry this isn’t that great in my opinion, I kind of just wanted this out :( I’m making an aomine one though, and hopefully that one is better!! <3

231 notes View Post

izayanara

2 years ago

One More Moment - B.H.

a/n: here's a little angst one shot for you guys as an apology for how slow I'm being rn with requests and a lil something while yall wait. I was super depressed and just couldn't help and couldn't write requests it I needed to do something so I wrote this instead. I hope y'all like it ilysm 💗

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Depression, grieving, death mention, Billy is dead in this, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts lowkey.

The air is cold. It's the end of fall, and winter is rearing its head. Ready to take over and cover Hawkins in snow and ice.

Two things he hated.

He hated colder weather. He hated Hawkins.

Yet he's stuck here now, forever.

You blow some air onto your cold hands, stepping in front of the tombstone.

William Hargrove.

No one ever called him that. Not one person. Except maybe his dad sometimes. But even then, it was a word used to show hate.

To tie him down.

You always wondered why they wrote William, not Billy on his grave.

Maybe it was because it was his legal full name. Or maybe it was because his father never knew his son enough, loved his son enough, to write the name he always went by. Billy. A way to dehumanize him further than he had already done for eighteen years.

You didn't know. But anyone who knew him knew he never answered to William.

No one used to go to the cemetery. You used to never go to the cemetery. It's mostly older graves for older people. People who were at an age that they were ready to die. But more recently the cemetery started to fill with people who were too young to be here. People who still had lives to live, had people to love, had a chance to be happy. To change.

People like Heather Holloway, Barbara Holland...

Billy Hargrove.

Max had been there recently. You see the remnants of an empty cassette beside the stone. She had started bringing them.

No music on them. His cassettes were too precious now. Too raw to give up, even to his own grave. But music meant something. Those cassettes meant something.

It sort of felt like a connection between herself and the dead brother in the ground- one they didn't get to grow before he died.

Maybe one day Max can let his real cassettes go.

You hope so. It's what you're here to do.

To let go.

To try to let go.

You crouch in front of the stone on cold and dying grass. The fallen leafs from trees skitter around with the wind, performing a weird dance together. It breaks the silence in the graveyard.

"Hey Billy..."

Your voice is soft. So quiet, it's almost as if you didn't speak at all. His name sounds foreign on your lips, but all to familiar at the same time. His name is like a curse and a blessing. You could hardly stand to hear it, but the longer you didn't hear it, the more the boy behind the name really faded away.

He was fading.

And eventually, one day in the future, his grave would be another grave with a name no one recognized; one that no one visited.

You clear your throat, suddenly it's gone dry; it feels like you've been in the desert for months, no water in sight.

"How are you?"

He doesn't answer of course. He's not really there. Yes, the body six feet under is his but its not him. Him is somewhere far away. A place you can't reach.

But this is as close as it gets.

Be always hated small talk like this. But he doesn't have a choice but to listen in silence now.

"I'm..." you want to say you're good, but you're not. You aren't sure you'll ever be good again- it's why you need to to this, "okay."

Okay was safe. It was a non-answer. A lie but not a lie.

You dig your hand into your coats pocket, looking for the rectangular item in your pocket; when your fingers touch it, it burns- it hurts. But that's why you're here. To stop the hurt. To...

"I'm leaving," you say it like you're breaking the ice to your boyfriend.

In some way you are- he was your boyfriend. Is... Was. You can't date a dead man.

"I don't think... I can't stay in Hawkins anymore," you miserably offer to the grave in front of you. You're speaking to dead space- but you need to do it.

Leaving and not telling him feels like a betrayal. Even if it's a stone in the ground- it's... He's...

"I'm sorry," you pull your hand from your pocket, a cassette held tightly in your hands, fingers digging into it- you could break it if you're not careful, "I know Max leaves you empty tapes sometimes. But I thought you might like one with music for once."

It's a tape with a dozen songs. One that you had made with him long ago, in the beginning months of your relationship. Back when things were brighter, when the world around you was colourful and when life seemed to have some hope within it.

Back before Hawkins took everything you loved.

"I can't keep it anymore," the air leaves your lungs shakily- you can feel the emotions building up in your chest, begging to be let out. But if you did that now, you know you won't be able to do this.

And you need to do it.

At first you couldn't. Couldn't listen to it, couldn't look at it. It held all your favourite songs and his favourite songs which would subsequently also become your favourites. You couldn't even listen to music for a while after because it stung. It hit too deep, bled too much. It was something you enjoyed doing with him in his room, in his Camaro. Anywhere.

It didn't bring you happiness anymore; it only deepened the gaping wound that he had left when he died.

But over time you listened to it again. One song a day. Till you listened to it all. And then you listened again, and again, on repeat. In your car, in your room, anywhere.

The songs became an escape. One where when you closed your eyes and blocked everything else out, you could imagine in those minutes that he was right there. That he was laying with you. Or standing behind you and putting his hands in your jeans pockets pulling you close.

Sometimes you swore you could feel him. Feel his touch. Smell is cologne. Feel his love.

But then the songs would end. And your eyes would open and everything was grey again.

Everything hurt again.

Because he wasn't there. And he wouldn't ever be there again. You were only fooling yourself; using this tape as an escape from a reality you needed to face. You were fading away, just like he was, but you were still living in all ways that mattered medically.

Beating heart, pumping blood, functioning limbs, warm skin.

The other half of you was dead.

It would kill you.

He would kill you, even in death, Billy Hargrove was your greatest weakness. And he'd kill you if you didn't stop.

Maybe you should have let him. But he'd be angry. So, so angry. And Max too. Your family. Friends.

At what point did you stop your own hurt instead of stopping others hurt?

Closing your eyes as tight as you can, you place the tape onto the grave in front of you. It feels like a weight is lifted, but at the same time, like a new one has arisen.

It is pain. It is hurt. It is agony. It is a love that you can't ever express the way you want to because he's not there to recieve it. It is a darkness that threatens you and tells you this is the wrong choice.

But you need to. To let him go, to get away. Before Hawkins (and the ghost of a dead man) swallows you whole. Drowns you.

"Take care of it, please."

You know the weather will destroy the tape. Maybe it will find its way back to him wherever he is- wherever death takes you. You can't say where, you don't know where. Anything could be possibly considering all Hawkins had shown you.

When you stand and turn away, hand still burning metaphorically from where the tape had been, the wind blows a harsh gust. It goes through you like you're a rickety old house, holes and all, just a skeleton.

It's cold. But it feels like you're being wrapped up by the wind into a hug. For one moment, a single, fleeting moment, you aren't alone.

Then it's gone. Just like everything else. The wind dies down as quickly as it came, and its quiet again, the leaves settling. You're alone.

Hawkins couldn't have you. You wouldn't let it. No matter how much part of you wanted it to take you.

All you needed was one more moment with him. And that was it.

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izayanara

2 years ago

Just...

Billy Hargrove would love a thick girl. He would love squeezing her thighs with his large hands, leaving his fingers imprinted on your soft and squishy skin. It would make him feel so good to see his finger prints in your skin, fading away as he pulls them away.

He'd love the feeling your love handles and the way your body feels against his hands. He would love you breasts and resting his full weight onto them, squeezing them, etc. Loves the way hickeys look on them, or anywhere on you in general. He'd love your rolls, your thicker arms. Everything.

He'd just love a thick girl okay.

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izayanara

2 years ago

fixable — b.h

billy hargrove x reader (gender neutral)

tw: cursing

inspired by a prompt from @babyprincessharrington <3 thank you!

in which billy makes a surprise visit to the reader after a breakup

a/n: first billy ficcc hope it’s not too awful 🫶🏻

the clock reads 2am as you’re finally in bed, ready to try and sleep the edge off, nothing but the white noise of your bedroom filling your ears.

it’s november, and although no windows are open, the atmosphere is cold enough to slink its way under your walls and into all throughout the house. the bone dried broken autumn leaves still falling even in glistening moonlight.

your boyfriend, well, ex boyfriend billy, snapped your heart in two only a month ago today. prior events were seeming to make this the hardest fall of your life, in more ways than just the weather.

you knew billy, though, and that just didn’t make sense. was he having another episode? with thoughts crowding your minds forefront, you’re brought back to reality by a startling knock on your window.

you knew of only one person who’d dare try and enter through your hellscape of a window. at 2am? in november? ‘guess it had to be serious.

another knock. “i’ve had a long day and you’re about to either be a waste of my time or the object of my tantrum. i’m calling the latter,” you say, as you pry open your window to find a dirty blonde mullet and a dangling earring.

“no need for all that, sweetness,” he calls as he pushes past you into your dark and quiet bedroom. you scoff and gently pull the window down, securing the cold to stay outside and not in.

“what the hell are you doing here,” it’s more of a statement, more disbelief than genuine concern.

“truth be told,” he pauses as he lights up a cigarette he extracts from his brown leather coat, “i’m not sure.”

this was so typical. wasting your time like this when it could be spent doing something much more fitting of the hour; sleeping.

“go to hell.”

“i’ll have to see you there then,” he slinks closer, gently placing a hand to your waist.

you scowl, the domino effect beginning as his face twists into a smile, knowing he’s done the right thing to garner a reaction. “do you know if hell has spots for shitty boyfriends? oh i’m sorry,” you mockingly clear your throat, “ex boyfriends?”

you stand there, eyes blazing as you stare up into his deathly glare. no ones a match for those blue eyes. no one.

he scoffs. “come on, y/n, don’t be like that,”

the new fallen silence consumes the room as he looms over you, dread clear in his expression, confusion clear in yours.

you suck in a deep breath and look down before you speak, knowing your next words might cause a riff. “you should leave, bill.”

you refuse to look up. what, meet his damned eyes that you’d never be able to look away from if given into? he couldn’t keep doing this. running back after he’d cooled off whether it be an hour later or a month later, this time the latter.

your thoughts are disrupted as he takes a hand and slowly lifts your chin with it, forcing you to meet his eyes.

your eyes are glossed over and you hope he can’t tell. the last thing he needs is to know you’re showing a sign of weakness. you’d hate for him to feel bad although you know deep down he should.

“i,” he stops short, not being able to continue his thought. squeezing his eyes shut, it’s as if he wants to tell you, but knows it wouldn’t be like him to. you press, hoping he’ll be willing to break the image for just a second, “what, bill?”

you lightly press a hand to his chest, showing him you’re at least attempting to break up some of the tension in the dim room.

“i can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you.”

regret etching onto his features practically instantly after the words leave his mouth.

the air in the room suddenly feels exceptionally heavy. what did he just say?

“billy,”

he removes his hand from your chin and turns his back to you in a panicked motion, “no, y/n, don’t. spare me the pity bullshit.”

a single tear escapes your eye as you stand there facing his back, knowing once he turns around his old habits of wanting to protect you at all times will kick in.

“no billy listen,” your voice breaks against your will and in an instant, he’s turned around, remorse written all over his face.

you quickly clear your throat and wipe your cheek, hoping he didn’t get too good of a look.

“y/n,” he takes a couple steps, until he’s directly in front of you, his eyes meeting yours. the distance between you mere inches.

“billy, i don’t know what you want anymore,” your voice merely a whisper, hands curling into fists as the rage you’ve felt the past month threatens to spill out into the thin space dividing you both.

he closes his eyes, sighing. you two being so close yet not touching in any sense only adding to your anger. why won’t he just look at you? is he ashamed?

“damnit billy fucking look at me,”

“i can’t ok!” he throws his hands up and lets them land on his face, covering his eyes.

“and why’s that?”

“because i fucked up and i don’t think i can fix it this time. that’s all i do. fuck up and expect it to not reap any consequences.”

he runs his hand over his mouth, refusing to let his eyes drift up and meet yours.

you stand there, now with some distance between the two of you as he leans against your dresser.

“you know that with us,” you begin to inch closer to him, causing him to look up and meet your eyes as you settle directly in front of him, “it’s always fixable.”

your eyes ache with unshed tears at this sight of him, clearly beating himself up and probably having done so since the night he broke it off.

he had never cared for anyone the way he did you. he was always afraid he was doing it wrong, or he’d fuck up and there were lots of those times, but he was learning. and he never let that stop him from attempting to be the best he could to you.

you place a hand to his jaw and let another tear fall, except you don’t realize it’s fallen until he reaches up and swipes it with his hand.

without saying another word, billy stands up from his previous slumped position on the dresser, and wraps you into a tight hug, clearly stemmed from his spoken fear of not being able to fix things and possibly losing you for good this time.

slowly but surely, you hug back, placing your arms around his middle.

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