☆°.Pairing: Bakugou X Reader

Morning Cuddles

Prompt: Being bothered by a bearbug Character(s): Bugbear, Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Fluff Body: N/A Words: 304 Tag(s): N/A Authors note: Enjoy this little writing blurb ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You could feel the cold air from outside under your blankets, you could have sworn you closed it before going to bed last night. Nonetheless you sleepily closed the window with a click of the lock before slipping back under your covers. You had a few more hours before you had to get up anyways and sleep was starting to get harder to get because of Bugbear’s nocturnal schedule. 

The warm covers lulls you to sleep and makes you miss the soft footsteps walking around your dorm. Eventually Bugbear got bored with watching you sleep and searching through your things to “borrow” so that you would have to beg for them back later in time. He shook you slightly only earning him a tired huff and you clutching the blankets closer to you. He giggled at your reaction before poking your face causing you to finally open your eyes to look at the man. 

“What?” Satisfied with getting you somewhat awake he started his proposal. 

“I’m hungry.” He whined but his smile was still firmly in place.

“Then go raid the kitchen buggy, I’m tired.”  You went to pull the blanket over your head before he stopped you. 

“Come ooonnnn.” He dragged out the ‘on’ for a few seconds causing you to get irritated. You opened your covers and looked at him, he tilted his head at you for a second. You patted the space that you opened up for him. 

“Come cuddle me and in the morning I'll make you breakfast. Deal?” He scrambled into the space, sealing the deal as he tucked himself in your arms a satisfied sigh came from him. You nuzzled into his neck and fell back into a peaceful sleep that lasted only a few more hours before Bugbear started to kiss and then bite you to wake up. 

my boyfriend billy hargrove headcanons

alarmingly protective

tries to keep you in check with bad behavior as much as possible, doesn’t want you turning into him

like if you’re upset one day and cussing up a storm he’ll tell you to stop and probably say something like “that’s not good for you,”

doesn’t like exhaling his smoke around you because of second hand smoke, around anyone else he wouldn’t care but, you? big no no

unless you ask him to blow smoke into your face or mouth, then of course he’ll do that

dacryphilia, enough said

not really good with heart to heart conversations,

they mainly only arise when he’s super vulnerable like after a fight with his dad

you’re constantly fixing up his cuts and bruises, whatever they may be from this time around

let’s you wear his leather coats only deep enough into the relationship to where he knows he can trust you

when cuddling, holds you indescribably close, longing to make up for the lack of it he never got as a child

earlier in the relationship tho, you two stayed to your opposite sides of the bed,

until one night after a brutal fight with his dad, he climbed through your window and let you fix him up. that night as you lay down, he pulled you into his chest for the first time, and you knew some barriers had finally been broken.

climbing. through. your. window. all the time.

he won’t let you tell anyone but he has a secret love for video games and on off days, he’ll bribe keith so you guys can have the arcade all to yourselves

sometimes will have shutdown periods to where you think he’s ignoring you but in truth, he’s gone off the grid from everyone and will most likely not be back for a couple of days

he’ll be back tho, and you’re the first person he comes to, explaining it wasn’t your fault and never will be and that he just needed his time.

always smells incredible

actually very clean and keeps excellent hygiene

bad jealousy issues. will usually act out at the smallest detail. you’ll calm him down, tell him you’re his and only his, and he’s usually back to normal in a good few minutes.

territorial. leaves hickeys in very visible places, insists on driving you home from school almost every day, throws his arm around you whenever he can sense someone lurking +etc

car sex. all the time. any messes tho and you’re cleaning.

late night drives frequently

spoiling you but being very discreet about it. something like “you said you needed new perfume so,” *tosses you a new expensive perfume, carelessly*

when in fights, he usually takes a drive to calm himself down. he fears he’ll turn into something worse if kept in close proximity when angry with you although you both know he’d never hurt you

when sleeping over either at his place or yours, and he has trouble falling asleep, he’ll light a cigarette in the middle of the night, in bed, and attempt to soothe himself that way by just smoking one

can be mean but that’s to be expected, you’ve grown to take it. although if he ever goes too far, and he notices, he won’t apologize but do something indirectly like a hand to your thigh or a “you ok?”

avid coffee drinker but again, won’t let you tell anyone because that’s “lame” and “for old people”

when in his lifeguard era, sneaks you into the pool after hours just so you can both night swim in peace and maybe skinny dip

was actually the first to say i love you, one night whilst you were applying rubbing alcohol to a cut on his lip,

“this is gonna sting,” *dabs* *silence* “y/n,” “yeah?” “i love you”

has only cried in front of you once, again after you had finished fixing him up and cleaning up some cuts, he began to cry, hard, so you just pulled him into your chest as he sobbed. neither of you have talked about it since.

gets off on you crying, dacryphilia as aforementioned, but usually only when it’s over something petty. if it’s serious, he knows to switch on the best listening front he can and try to shove those other feelings down.

likes his fair share of alcohol but refuses to let you consume too much

the one time you did, he had to prop you up on his shoulder just to get you home. once home, he laid you down on your bed and stood, kind of clueless as to how to take care of someone in this condition

bonus: on good days, he’ll let you bring max with you as you go out and run errands

Watch "I Will Start an Only Fans..." on YouTube

You bitches better WORK

acidentally snooping on bf! katsuki's phone and seeing something... kinky.

you were just on katsuki’s phone, playing subway surfers. you honestly didn’t even remember because the moment you accidentally swiped to his notes app, your eyes landed on a particular note titled “shit to try w/ her” and curiosity got the best of you.

at first, you thought it was something mundane—maybe new date ideas, training routines, or even a new recipes. but as soon as you opened it, your face went hot.

because it was a list. a very detailed list of all the filthy things katsuki wanted to do to you. some of it was stuff you’d already done—rougher, filthier things that had you squeezing your thighs together just remembering them. but then there were the others. the things he clearly hadn’t brought up yet.

shit to try w/ her

- overstimulating her (worse than usual. she looks so pretty when she cries on my dick)

- mirror sex while making her watch (want her to see how fuckin’ pretty she looks fallin’ apart.)

- recording it (for us only).

- thigh riding while i just sit back and watch (bet she'd whine so fuckin pretty too)

- more praise. (she likes that. she gets all shy. cute as fuck.)

- see how many times i can make her come in a single night.

your eyes widened at that last one. oh.

you kept scrolling, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. you knew katsuki was a freak, but seeing it written out like this, with all the little notes and thoughts he’d clearly been holding onto—made your breath hitch.

this was… a lot. not that you were opposed to most of it, but the fact that katsuki was sitting on this list, keeping it to himself, planning? that was almost hotter than the list itself.

you were still staring at the screen when you heard the bathroom door open. before you could react, a shadow loomed over you.

“the fuck you doin’?” katsuki’s voice was gruff, but he sounded relaxed—like he was toweling off his hair as he walked into the room.

you scrambled to lock his phone, but it was too late. the second he saw the look on your face, the way you were gripping his phone like you’d just uncovered a government secret, his eyes narrowed.

“…what did you see?” his voice was cautious now, tinged with suspicion.

you slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “me? what are you doing making a list of all the filthy things you wanna do to me?”

katsuki froze .a slow, deep flush crept up his neck, spreading to his ears. his jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he should snatch his phone away or act like nothing happened.

“…you weren’t supposed to see that.”

your smirk widened. “oh? and when was i supposed to?”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “dunno. when i fuckin’ brought it up.”

you leaned in, voice teasing. “well, damn. didn’t know you had all these filthy little fantasies about me.”

“shut up,” katsuki sputtered, face burning, his hand swiping for the phone. he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “fuckin’ kill me.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “y’know, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

his fingers dug into your waist, his jaw clenching. “don’t—”

“i can’t believe you wrote it all down,” you teased breathlessly. “you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

katsuki groaned, muffled against your neck. “i’m gonna kill you. you keep runnin’ that mouth, and i’ll start checkin’ shit off that list right now."

you bit your lip, feeling bolder. “you know… we could. cross something off the list.”

his eyes snapped to yours, darkening in an instant.

“…get on the bed.”

and then, without another word, he crushed his lips against yours and, well—you did end up checking something off that list that night. particularly, the last one.

you lost count somewhere after the third orgasm, but katsuki didn’t. oh no, he kept track. every time your body seized up, every time you sobbed his name, every time you gasped that you couldn’t take anymore—he whispered the number into your ear like a reminder.

“four,” he’d growled, dragging his thumb over your swollen clit. “look at you, fuckin’ cryin’ for me.”

“five,” he rasped later, his grip on your thighs tightening when you tried to squirm away. “told ya you could give me more.”

by the last one, your body was boneless, your voice gone, and your mind a hazy blur of pleasure. katsuki finally relented, collapsing beside you and pulling you into his chest.

you felt his lips press against your temple, his breathing uneven as he whispered, “fuckin’ champ.”

the morning after, you were sprawled across katsuki’s chest, his arm draped lazily around your waist as the sun peeked through the curtains. your entire body ached in the best way possible.

you groaned softly, shifting to get more comfortable, and his chest rumbled with a low chuckle, his fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare back. "you alive?"

"barely," you mumbled into his chest. "my legs hate you."

he chuckled, the sound vibrating beneath your cheek. "told ya you could take it."

you huffed a laugh, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. his crimson eyes were soft in the morning light, the usual sharpness replaced with warmth—and just a hint of smug pride.

“well, i didn’t know you were gonna go for the damn world record,” you teased. “how many times was it?”

his smirk deepened. “seven.”

your jaw dropped. “seven?”

“mhm,” he squeezed your waist. “you were real fuckin’ cute, too. cryin’, beggin’, squeezin’ me like that. thought you were gonna pass out on number six.”

your cheeks burned. “oh my god, stop.”

“why? can’t handle hearin’ how fuckin’ pretty you were last night?”

you covered your face with your hands, groaning. but katsuki was having none of it—he pried your hands away and pinned them to the mattress, leaning down until his lips brushed yours.

“seven,” he repeated against your mouth, grinning when you squirmed beneath him. “and next time? we’re goin’ for eight.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

Play Along (B.H)

Warning(s); mentions of drinking alcohol,smoking,creep,Billy being a sweetheart,kissing.

Pairing(s); Billy Hargrove X (Afab) Fem! Reader

Summary; you turn to a stranger when a creep won’t leave you alone.

A/n; just so we are clear I write a non-racist Billy. I write him as much in character as possible but understand I know his character did wrong things but I don’t write him that way. If you don’t like it just move on. Thank you.

You were getting annoyed,frustrated even. You started a conversation with a guy who seemed nice but you quickly realized he was a misogynistic,creepy, asshole. You scanned the bar trying to think of a way out of this situation because the guy wasn’t shutting up. You decided maybe If you just said you wanted to dance he’d leave you alone. You hadn’t been on the floor for more then 15 minutes when you caught the man staring.

You went to the bathroom not that long after and he was in a different spot one where he could see the bathrooms, he moved with you wherever you went always in a spot where he could see you. You were scared to leave at this point and when you caught him walking your way you turned to the guy closest to you.

“Excuse me” you spoke softly urging him to turn around from his few friends. He was rather attractive a pair of baby blue eyes that enticed the fuck out of you. He wore a pair of jeans and a red button up the top few buttons undone, a cigarette hung from his lips his curly blonde hair shaped his face. “This is gonna sound weird and I’m sorry but there’s this creep and-”

“Where?” He questioned and you nodded behind you the man’s eyes set on someone and he narrowed them. As if he read your mind his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him in a almost protective way. He stepped around you so you were next to the bar and he was on the outside where people walked by. His friends were a mix of obvious drunks and a few sober people. You remember one of them from high school but he didn’t seem to remember you so you left it be.

His friends went back to chatting with him and he would blow a puff of smoke every few minutes. You could still feel the guys eyes on you and you visibly tensed when you heard his voice behind you calling your name. The man who was helping you turned to look back before spinning around keeping his arm locked on your waist as his friends stood up standing behind him. It was like that were screaming at the guy to try him. Try you. To try to Fucking graze your skin.

“Can I help you?” He asked followed by a puff of smoke. “Oh, I was just talking to her earlier that’s all” he glanced between you and the man next to you. “Didn’t realize she had a boyfriend” he commented and your helper chuckled sitting the cig between his lips and holding out his hand. “Billy Hargrove, nice to meet you” the man just eyed his held out hand until he retracted it.

“Well what did you want?” Billy asked a little bit more bite to his tone. “Just to talk” you shrugged and turned into Billy’s hold as if you were cold. “She doesn’t wanna talk so, bye” he shoed the guy off with his hand. “You said you came alone..” the guy said and you just kept your head turned away as if you didn’t hear him. “Yeah, she did but then I showed up so she’s not alone. Did you not here me? She doesn’t wanna talk, pal.” The guy went to talk again and Billy interrupted “if you don’t walk away soon you won’t be able to. Get the picture big guy? Good.Bye.”

Billy leaned down and kissed the top of your head as if to show that he was comforting you. The guy reluctantly left and you finally looked up at Billy. “Thank you.” He hummed “you alright sweetheart? Want me to walk you to your car?” You shook your head “my friend drove me so I’ll just call a cab” Billy put the butt of his cigarette out in one of the trays and shook his head. “I’ll give you a ride. Where do you need to go?” He was already leading you out before you protested.

You instructed him where to go and felt oddly safe inside a complete strangers car. “Nice car” you commented and he smiled “ah, thanks. You live close to one of my friends” you smiled “oh yeah? Who?” Billy almost bit his tongue “Harrington?” He proposed and you thought for a minute “Harrington….uhm who?” He sighed “Steve? Steve Harrington” you shrugged “I’ve no clue who that is”

Billy couldn’t tell if you were just messing with him or if you were being completely honest. How could you not know who’s Steve Harrington is though? Everyone knew him.

as Billy passed his house he nodded out “that’s the Harrington’s” “ohhh! Them? Oh yeah no we don’t talk to them” Billy was intrigued now as he pulled into your driveway. “Why not?” “Well, his mom likes to flirt with my dad. Not to mention I’m assuming Steve is their son?” You paused for Billy to nod “yeah he used to Bully me when I was younger. Throw balls at me and shit” Billy chuckled quietly and you sat there for a minute.

“You going inside?” You nodded “just trying to figure out how I’m gonna explain to my parents why I’m stumbling in drunk at 4am “eh, I just tell them to fuck off and walk past them” you let out a soft giggle which makes Billy smile. “Thank you again for your help. You’re a good guy Billy” he nods in reply and you slip out of his car.

He sat to watch you get inside but you turned around heading back to his car. He rolled own his window “what’s wrong? Can’t get in?” You shook your head and dipped your head down into the window. You pressed your lips against his, it was soft and slow and it made butterflies erupt in your tummy. He tasted of cigarettes and oddly enough cherry chapstick, once you finally pulled away “thanks Hargrove, I’ll see you around” and with that you hopped off back inside.

*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

“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

How the big three (three musketeers??) would try and convince you to quit your shitty job

one 'cute little housewife' from billy but reader is otherwise gn, some mysoginy from billy as a treat if you squint but not much also what do you expect lol

You know that friend that when you bring up your boyfriend they're like "dump him"?? That's Stevie. You breathe one word about your day at work being subpar and he's like "oh my god that sucks they shouldn't treat you like that, you should quit" when you protest he DOUBLES DOWN. "C'mon, you should quit. You don't need to work there, I'll buy you whatever you want. Bank of Harrington, the only interest is kisses." He loves spoiling you, you know he does, and he watches you seriously considering it. He'll offer to take you shopping right now to tip the scales, hyping you up and picking out the cutest stuff that perfectly fits your taste. "You could wear this next monday, we can go to the movies, keep me company while I drive the kids around..." You tell him you have work next monday and he gives you one of those looks "You don't have to." He's so hot and so caring and so good at babying you it's incredibly hard not to fold immediatley.

Eddie pulls you into his lap first thing. Right off the bat, he pulls you close to him to straddle his thighs. He's looking at you with that attentive sweet look, clearly paying full attention and equally in love with you while you tell him about your day. You're laughing at something ridiculous and terrible that happened and he's laughing with you and you think you're on the same page and then he hits you with the "Screw them. Quit." you start to laugh and he does too but you can see a little bit of seriousness behind his eyes. He squeezes your waist and continues "You're my muse. I need you here so I can write songs, come up with good lyrics." He runs his hands up and down your waist, he knows it's working, so he kicks up the dramatics, dipping you and declairing, "The future of corroded coffin depends on it..." pecking your lips. He's not shy about telling you how inspired you make him, he never has been, and you're sure his bandmates would be overjoyed that Eddie has his muse with him full time.

With Billy, he really, really likes playing house with you. If you tell him someone at your job did anything, made your day harder, upset you, said something rude, gossiped about you, you can see the change on his face instantly. He starts picking you up and dropping you off more often than he did, figuring out which coworkers he needs to send intimidating glares to. if you have a rough day he will ABSOLUTELY drop what he's doing and cover you with kisses. He'll rub your back and pull you to sit on his lap and rub his thumb over your cheek. "You should just fucking quit. Fuck them." You tell him it wasn't that bad, just one bad day, but he's been noticing more and more bad days recently. "Hey. Look at me." he guides you to look up at him, locking eyes with that intense eye contact of his. "You don't deserve to be treated like that, and those bastards sure as hell don't deserve someone as great as you." You smile and he does too. "You know, you could just quit. Stay here and be my cute little housewife..." you giggle and he bites your neck, telling you how cute you'd look cooking together while you wear his shirts.

i think we need some more of billy being a simp for the reader. like he’s still a dick to everyone else but when it comes to the reader he’s a sweet blushy simp mess and everyone is just 👁👄👁🧍”huh?”

a/n: fr this might be my worst fic yet but i- i... oh well, i hope its okay ily anon forgive me pls i promise i tried- but i also was tired for part of it (i like to sit in my bed while half asleep and write at like 4 am sometimes) but here you go! I also kept it maybe slightly lowkey? Cause I do think Billy would be sweeter more so in private; but he can pull the charm and sweetness out in public too yk.

Length: 1.5k

Pairing: Billy x reader

Warnings: none really; slight mention of maybe apathy towards life on Billy's end, fluff if that's a warning lmao, OOC Billy probably? also Jason Carver ew

Oh, he's a Simp - B.H.

The majority of Hawkins High school population believed they had a good read of Billy Hargrove's character. He was the same with everyone; tough and a bit of a jerk- no sometimes just a straight-up asshole. Be it the tone of his voice, the way he wouldn't take people seriously, or the mischievous lit in his voice when he spoke to someone sometimes, Billy Hargrove was bad. And pretty much anyone around him who befriended him were like sheep; craving someone to follow.

But then there was you.

You were the object of his desires. The one who had taken up most of his thoughts- the good ones- and made him into some weirdly shapeable putty.

Not that shapeable though; no one could truly dictate Billy Hargrove. He wouldn't let them.

Billy leaned against the school steps railings; Tommy H and Carol stood near him with Jason Carver. All people that Billy could've really cared less about. He made 'friends' with them, but not really. When it came down to it, they just followed. And it felt nice to have that sort of power, the type where if he so much as gave Tommy a certain look, the freckled bully would heel like a dog and wait.

Stupid. He hated them.

Especially Jason Carver. And he knew that too.

The only meaningful bond he'd made since coming to Hawkins was you. So, when he saw you exit the school he visibly perked up, akin to a puppy seeing his family after they'd been out all day.

It was a bizarre sight for anyone to see. Billy Hargrove, looking at someone who such clear difference to how he looked at anyone else.

"Hey," Billy calls out to you, making you whip your head to look at him leaning on the railings.

He sounds like he usually does. Indifferent. Indifferent to people around him, to what they wanted or thought. He didn't care for them and they cared for him but only in the way of popularity. If Billy Hargrove were to die tomorrow, the only loss for these people would be someone to follow. No one would mourn him.

Maybe you would. If he did die, he hoped at least you'd mourn him.

You pivot to walk towards him, a smile dawning on your features. One that makes him almost smile in return. To everyone else, it looks like maybe his face twitched a bit, maybe a reaction to the sun or a thought he'd had. But his eyes are soft.

When you reach him, your messenger bag strap clutched in your hands, you give him a questioning look, but still smiling. Choosing to ignore the friends Billy kept around him; they'd never been nice people. And you avoided them as best you could. But you didn't avoid Billy even when he was with them.

Billy Hargrove was special. He was rough around the edges; someone who could be cruel and harsh- he could make people cower but also swoon.

He didn't scare you. He had yet to ever do a thing to you that suggested you should be scared. He had intimidated you before, how could he not? The way Billy carried himself demanded that he be respected, that he was a possible force to be reckoned with. Sometimes he still intimidated you, specifically when he was surrounded by his 'friends.'

"You need a ride home doll?"

He pulls his arm out from behind him and pulls you over to the railings, arm around your shoulder and neck almost engulfing you with his large leather jacket-clad arm.

His body was warm against yours as he held you close to his side. It was like you were made to fit in that spot.

Billy gave you special attention and affection he didn't dare offer to anyone else in the entire world. It felt nice, to have someone like Billy be this way with you.

Your relationship was a mystery to everyone around you, and even to yourself if you were being completely honest.

You weren't dating per se; you'd never spoken about being a couple and whatnot, and you weren't sure if you'd been on an actual date with him before. Did the times he took you to the diner after school count? Or the times he would sit in his car during the lunch period while you sat outside eating a sandwich count? No. No, you were pretty sure they didn't. 

Whatever your relationship was with him as of right now was something that lingered in limbo; it teetered between the unknown and something very obvious and clear-cut.

Billy was always one to make it known where he stood with people. Be it with words, or with his actions (aggressive or not, depending.)

Yet with you, he found himself keeping the status of your relationship covered in shadow. It was safe. Not defining it because defining it was committing.

And commitment was scary. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he didn't know how to handle something like that. No one had ever been committed to him, so he was never committed to anyone.

He knew how he felt for you, and it was something he had never felt for anyone before. He had been in relationships before, Billy Hargrove was no stranger to relationships and being with someone else in an intimate manner. However, what he felt for you was something more than a lust that he could deal with in a night.

Was it love? He didn't know. He just knew that you were different. And he was different with you.

"It's okay," you respond to his offer, looking at him through your lashes, his cologne invading your senses when you turned your head to look up at him, "I actually was going to be staying after school to work on a project in the library... I just needed to use the payphone to call home and let my family know."

The library and Billy Hargrove didn't mix. But you and him, they mixed. They mixed well.

Carol and Tommy shared a look at the way Billy was interacting with you.

It was as if no one else existed around him when you had walked out the school doors. It was as if the bad mood he had been in (Tommy couldn't figure out why, but it was mainly Jason's fault, that's all he knew- anytime he'd try to broach the topic, Billy's claws threatened to peak out) had dissipated, or at least it had simmered at the sight of you. And his shoulder muscles seemed to ease a fraction, and his face, while it still looked indifferent, had warmed if only slightly.

It was small. But it was obvious to them. And everyone else.

"I'll stick around with you," he said after he took a deep breath in, getting ready to push himself off of his position against the railing, "can't have you sitting like a loser in the library on your own. Or trying to walk home in the dark."

"My dad could come get me you know," you roll your eyes but secretly you're happy, happy that he wants to stay with you. The library was boring, and albeit Billy wouldn't dare step foot inside the library on any occasion whatsoever, you made it different.

Bearable even.

He also knew he could convince you to leave within the first hour of being there. So it wasn't all bad.

"Scared of driving with me?"

"Sure," you jokingly say, pulling away slowly, "one day when you crash that pretty car cause you're driving way too fast it won't be funny anymore."

"Yeah, 'cause that's gonna happen."

It could, it was just a matter of if he cared if it did or not. That car was precious, the person inside? He wasn't so sure.

"Fine, you can stay," you were glad he was staying, you enjoyed being near this man, "but you can't talk or distract me."

"Never."

"Seriously Hargrove?" Jason Carver opens his big mouth. One that Billy could slap if he so desired, "You're going to the library, with this..."

"Go ahead," Billy had immediately changed in demeanor, fully pulling himself away from you and situating himself a foot in front of you as if he were protecting a baby doe, "finish the sentence shithead."

For everything, Jason wasn't someone who could even fight back against Billy, just like everyone else. Unless he really wanted to have a bloody nose, he would keep his mouth shut.

"...Whatever."

Tommy and Carol, for all their stupidity at times or rude comments and bullying of others, at least knew in those moments to be quiet. As weird as it was to see Billy so easily enraptured by someone, it had been this way since he met you. And nothing would change it.

"I'll see you in the library babe," how can he just call you that so casually; it makes your stomach flutter.

"Okay," you linger for a moment as if something else might happen. But it doesn't, and that's okay.

Because right now, your relationship is still trying to find its ground. It's still trying to see where it stands, and Billy Hargrove is still trying to figure it out himself.

All he knows is that he's a fool for you, and he doesn't hate that. He doesn't hate it at all.

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

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." 

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?”