a collection of everything i've written about billy hargrove. imagines/oneshots/stories, whatever you would prefer to call them. all fics are either fem!reader or gn!reader.
none of the gifs i use are mine! credit to the original sources/owners!
word count: 1,651 warnings: swearing, car accident, hospital, mentions of blood and being hurt, billy had a rough night a/n: okay so billy was MOST DEFINITELY not going to see karen THAT NIGHT and i fixed this because i am saving my pretty prince baby boy, you hear me? i'm saving him right fucking now and also, look at me writing and shit! but what?? 4k reads made me giggle idek what the hell to do with that. every time one of you comments or interacts i also blush and i appreciate it more than you know!! and i kinda like this?? so i hope you do too <3
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Billy slammed the door of the Camaro shut before situating himself in the driver's seat and pulling away from the curb. He was running low on cigarettes, and he'd never make it through his shift tomorrow with the few he had left. Sure, he'd been told not to smoke on the clock, but sometimes he really didn't give a shit. Glancing down at the fuel gage, he realized he needed to fill the car up, and he sure as hell wasn't going to want to do it tomorrow.
He turned his music up a little louder, not bothering to stay in the right lane of the road, considering this part of town was pretty fucking dead at seven thirty on an evening in early July. He tapped his hands against the steering wheel in time to a song he had yet to learn all the lyrics to.
He flipped the visor down, running a thumb across the polaroid he kept there. Max had taken it on his birthday. You were sat on his thigh, legs resting between his, his arms around your waist. You smiled up at the camera, and it was your real smile. Not the one you usually used when your picture was being taken. Billy's face nuzzled into your shoulder, hiding from view. He flipped the visor back up, and drove a little further before—
"Shit!" Something smashed into the windshield, and he swerved out of the way. The car spun off the road, smacking over the worn out curb and into a bush. Billy groaned, registering the pounding in his head, and the fact that he'd just crashed his car. "Oh, no. No. Piece of shit!" He reached up, fingers touching his forehead. He was bleeding. "Shit." He pulled himself out of the car, walking around to assess the damage.
The passenger side door had been dented in, he couldn't get it open. A slew of curses left his mouth, fuck he was frustrated. A shine, almost a glaze, caught his eye. There was something on the windshield. Swiping his fingertips against it, he muttered, "What the hell?" But then he heard a noise. A rustling. Loud. Unmistakable. He'd watched enough horror movies with you to know he needed to get out of there.
Heart pounding from fear of whatever was out there, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he rushed to get back in the car, quickly pulling away from the abandoned warehouse he'd found himself outside of, trying his best to see clearly out of the now cracked glass. He was freaked out. Confused.
He drove, not knowing exactly where he was going, trip to the gas station completely forgotten. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pulling into the police station. He recognized the chief's Blazer outside. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was he doing? What was he going to say? He didn't know Hopper. He'd only ever dropped Max off with El, and maybe said a few words to the man. But Max knew him. And whatever the hell was still on his windshield made him uneasy. He wasn't a dumbass. He knew something was up last fall when he'd had to go get Max. Hadn't forgotten the inside of the Byers' house. Or the snippets of conversation he'd heard from Max and her friends. He just had this feeling. This feeling that Hopper might be the right person right now. So he got out and walked in, not even thinking about how he looked.
