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billy hargrove | heaven-sent | one-shot

masterlist|series masterlist |request|ko-fi

billy x hopper! oc

words: 2.9k

warnings: kidnapping, trauma! at hawkins lab, violence w/ guns (but no shooting), angst, comfort, strong language,superhuman oc,bad plot probably,set between seasons two and three

prompt: Hi I was wondering if you could write a Billy Hargrove x reader. She has powers like 11 and know each other. One day he sees her handcuffed and led by some men to a van and she has some bruises on her arm so he goes after her.

– I adjusted this because it fit too well with my heaven-sent series to not turn into a fran x billy heaven-sent one-shot.hope that’s okay!

Billy changed the route of his daily morning jog around the same time that he and Fran became…whatever it is they are. Whatever that aching knot in the very pits of his belly means. The first day, he pretended as though he hadn’t gone out of his way to run by the trailer on the edge of the lake. The second, she caught him and offered him coffee. Now, it’s pancakes or cereal or whatever she has on offer that day, and he can never say no. Not to her.

But something’s wrong today. In front of the trailer sit three white vans. Not her father’s, the chief’s. Just…plain, ominous white vans. He slows and yanks off his headphones, sweat dripping down his neck. And then the trailer door swings open, and his heart sinks into his stomach. Fran is being pulled along by a group of neatly dressed men, and her eyes…golden. Round. Filled with fear that can’t mean anything good.

“Hey!” he shouts, but when they spot him, the men only urge her toward the vans quicker. Fran stumbles and strains to get a look at him, and only then does he realise she’s handcuffed. “Fran. What the hell’s going on?”

One of the men holds him back like she’s some sort of celebrity. Or prisoner.

And a part of him already knows, then, or at least can guess what these people would want with Fran. With his Fran. She’s shuddering just like she always does when an episode happens, a speck of blood beneath her nostrils. They know about her powers. They’re trying to take her away.

“Call my dad, Billy,” she begs.

“I’m afraid Hawkins’ chief of police won’t be able to do much this time,” the man yanking her forward drawls. As though he’s enjoying it. It makes Billy sick.

“No. No way. You’re not taking her.” He shoves the human barrier aside and runs for the car, but his arms are pulled back and there are more of them restraining him now.

And then a cold piece of metal presses against his head. A gun. He stops writhing, his blood going cold.

“Let her go.” All he can do is beg, fear a shivering fist around his gut. “You’ve got it wrong. You can’t take her.”

“Just call my dad, Billy,” Fran pleads again, and then her head is lowered and she’s pushed into the back of the van. The last thing he sees before the doors close is that terror contorting her features, and those gold eyes, and the pain he knows she feels when it happens.

A lump forms in Billy’s throat, hatred curling his upper lip, but he doesn’t dare move. What good would he be to her if his brains are splattered across her driveway? She’s right. He needs to get Hopper. “Let her go,” he grounds out anyway. “There’s a mistake here.”

“You won’t tell anybody about this.” The gunman clicks the safety off just to give his message loud and clear. If Billy talks, he dies. “Billy Hargrove, isn’t it? How’s your sister, Maxine?”

That, he hadn’t expected. They know who he is. Know about Max. Probably know where he lives. Jesus. How long have they been watching Fran? To what fucking end?

He can’t even think about that. If he gets angry, he’ll do something stupid like get them both killed, and he can’t let that happen. She needs him strong, steady, something Billy Hargrove has never felt before and certainly doesn’t feel now.

But he’ll do his damn best for her.

“I won’t tell anybody,” he whispers.

“Not even the chief.” The gunman’s finger hovers over the trigger.

Billy shakes his head, defeated. “Not even the chief.”

“Good.” He slaps Billy’s back, the group dispersing back towards the vans. “Glad we could clear that up. You forget about all of this and you won’t have to worry.”

He climbs into the van and slams the door, cool gaze still fixed on Billy. They drive off, leaving Billy in the dust. He watches the van with Fran inside, his lower lip trembling. What the fuck does he do now?

***

He shakes. For the rest of the day, he shakes like a fucking leaf. He goes to school because he knows he’s being watched. Pretends everything is normal; like Fran isn’t gone. He tries not to think about what they might do to her. She’s not normal, maybe not even human, and he realises somewhere along the line that he was wrong. He has seen those vans before, the night that Fran and him found Hopper underground. Those vine things alive, curled around him.

He needs Hopper, and much as he hates it, he does the only thing he can think of. Gets the police’s attention.

If those damn freaks knew anything about him, they’d know he’s had a few run-ins with the law. So he skips fifth period and speeds around town until those damn lights follow him. Callahan takes him into the station as predicted with a smarmy, “No girlfriend to bail you out this time?”

Billy grits his teeth, remembering the first time Fran bailed him out for drunk driving. They take care of each other. It’s what they do. And it kills him that, this time, he doesn’t know how.

“Chief around?” he mumbles after he’s been questioned and left with a strike in his license.

“On his lunch break,” Callahan replies.

Great. Fuck knows how long that could last. He leans back in his seat, knee bouncing as he tips his head and blows out a long, ragged breath.

“Don’t think he’ll be too impressed to find you here again. You wanna date the chief’s daughter, you better stop being a delinquent.”

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to talk to him. Can you call him in?”

“No need. You’re all done here, as long as you pay the fine in the next two weeks. Another strike on your license, and it’s gone. You hear me?”

Thankfully, the station door opens and a heavy-footed Hopper struts in, a box of donuts in his hand and a bear claw in his mouth. Both are left on Flo’s desk when he catches sight of Billy. “Are you kidding me?”

“I need to talk to you in your office.”

“Oh, you’re gonna.” He glares and yanks Billy up by the collar, causing him to scowl. “Jesus Christ, what the hell does Fran see in you? What are you in for now?”

“Speeding,” Callahan supplies.

Another grumble as Hopper shoves him into his office. Billy waits until the door is closed, and then all his pent-up worry finally pours out of him. “Fran’s gone. She’s gone, chief, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to fucking d —”

“Woah, woah. Slow down. Fran’s gone where?”

“They took her.” His voice rises with panic, no matter how badly he tries to keep quiet. “Those guys in the white vans. The ones who were there that night…they took her. Said if I told anyone, I’d be dead and made it pretty damn clear the rest of my family would be, too. I wanted to go after her, but there were too many. There were too goddamn many.”

Hopper’s features turn grave in an instant. “When was this?”

“This morning. Around eight.”

His knuckles whiten, hands curling into fists. “You should have come to me sooner.”

“They’re watching me. What the hell was I supposed to do? They threatened my goddamn sister.”

Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. You’re right. We have to be careful about this.”

“But we can get her back, right? You know where they’d take her?”

“I have an idea, yeah.”

Billy blows out a breath of relief, still trembling all over. “So let’s go. Now.”

“We can’t just waltz in. We need a plan. I need…Jesus, I need to call Joyce. She can get us in, I’m sure.”

He knows nothing about Joyce’s place in all this, but any plan is better than playing sitting ducks. He runs a hand over his mouth, exhausted and desperate to get Fran back. “Do you think…would they hurt her?”

Hopper purses his lips as though he can’t bear to answer. Finally, his brows lower and he heads to the telephone on the desk. “No. They won’t hurt her. We won’t let them.”

Billy wants so badly to believe it.

***

An hour later, they’re at the gate of Hawkins Lab, Joyce and Hopper in the front seats. After a lengthy argument about Billy’s role in it all, he’s hiding on the floor of the back seat while they attempt to convince the guard that it’s urgent. Something about Will. A flashlight flits around the car and then the gates buzz. They’re in.

“You stay in the car,” Hopper rattles for the tenth time. “If they see you, they’ll know what’s going on.”

“Right, and they wouldn’t suspect you,” Billy retorts.

“They think they can control me. I let them think that. But you’re a livewire and you have no idea what we’re walking into here.”

“Because nobody tells me a damn thing.”

“Thank your lucky stars for it, kid. You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

“Just like Fran didn’t want to know?” It’s a low blow, especially now, but Billy is pissed off and he knows how badly it hurt Fran when she found out she was adopted. She’d come from the lab and hadn’t known it. Hadn’t known she was gifted at all until recently. She deserved better than that. She deserved the truth.

“I’m not arguing with you, Hargrove.” Hopper pops a cigarette in his mouth before ordering, “Just stay in the damn car.”

Joyce and Hopper get out, and Billy waits all of five minutes before impatience gets the better of him. He peers out of the window on all sides before sneaking out, weaving between the parked cars and behind the back of the building. Hopper is taking the long route, but Billy just needs Fran back. Now. He can’t sit by and wait and hope a small-town police chief and Joyce Byers can take on the group he saw this morning. No fucking way.

That’s why, when a guy dressed in a lab coat comes out of the back entrance by the dumpster, Billy wastes no time in knocking him out. Neil might be a piece of shit, but he’s taught him how to throw a decent punch. The scientist goes straight down, and Billy catches the door with his foot before it closes, bending over to yank off the coat. He finds a key card in the pocket and slips the coat on, licking his palm and slicking back his curls in the hopes it might make him look less like a Brat Pack teenager and more like a kidnapping, experimenting piece of shit.

The lab is bigger on the inside. He takes the stairwell in the corner of the building where he’s less likely to be spotted, finding a list signposted on each floor. He has no idea where Fran might be, until he’s breathless and finds the word subjects listed under the sixth level. He can’t even think about what it might mean, only that it’s the closest he’s come to feeling Fran since she was taken. So he smooths down his shirt, takes a deep breath, and steps into the corridor.

It’s grey-walled, with sad excuses for rainbows painted along every edge of it as though this could be anything but hell. He peers through each door and finds empty rooms — until the end one. There Fran is, curled on her side with her back to him. His heart leaps into his throat and he uses the key card to get in.

“Fran.”

She’s trembling, and he isn’t sure she’s even heard him at first. Not until she murmurs, “Go away. Go away. Go away.”

“Fran, angel.” He walks cautiously towards her, crouching but not daring to touch her yet. “It’s me. It’s Billy. Look at me.”

She stiffens finally and turns around, sitting up. She’s pale, bandaids on her elbows as though she’s had blood tests or IV drips inserted into her. Anger swirls in him. If they’ve used her as some damn lab-rat…

There are bruises, too. From the way they manhandled her, maybe. He hopes that’s all it’s from. If someone hurt her, he isn’t sure what he’ll do.

“Billy,” she whispers, her eyes becoming glossy as she wraps her arms around him. “Oh my god. Billy.”

“I’m here.” He tucks a curl behind her ear gently. “What did they do to you? What did they do, Fran? I swear to god, if they hurt you —”

“Tests. They did tests.” Her voice wobbles, so far removed from her usual cockiness and wit. It breaks his heart right down the middle. “I’ve been here before. I remember…”

“Let’s get you home, okay? You can tell me everything when I get you home.”

She nods, her chin wobbling. “I’m scared, Billy.”

“You don’t need to be scared. I’m here.”

She places a hand on his chest as though she can’t quite believe it, and his fingers curl around her elbows to help her up. Her legs are wobbly, eyes glazed.

And then the alarms go off.

“We need to go. They know we’re here.” He pulls her into him and they set off into a staggering run back down the blaring corridor. She’s barefoot, unsteady, but she’s in his arms and that’s all he can focus on. Footfalls echo behind him and he knows they’re close. Breathless sobs leave her as they skip down the stairs two at a time, back the way they came. He realises at the last minute that it isn’t a good idea and pulls her into the next corridor to take another flight of stairs. Somebody will have found the guy he knocked out by now and he can’t afford to run into whoever it was.

The lab gets busier the further down they get — but then Hopper and Joyce are there on the ground floor, relief written across their faces.

“Go!” Billy yells, urging them all out. They do, Hopper sprinting to the car ahead of them so he can unlock it. People are running onto the parking lot now — scientists, guards, people in suits like the ones from this morning, but they don’t know where the threat is, still bewildered, and it gives them the chance to get out.

Only the gates are closing. Billy pulls Fran into the backseat and Joyce collapse into the passenger. They don’t have time to fasten their seatbelts before they’re speeding away, and just in time before the gates close.

Billy chokes on his relief and focuses on Fran. Still pale, still shaking, still not her. “We’re going home now. We’re getting you home, okay? You’re safe.”

She shakes her head at the same time Hopper replies, “‘Fraid not. We need to get out of Hawkins. Are you okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” It’s an uncertain whisper.

“I left you on your own too damn much,” he mumbles. “Should’ve been there.”

“Yeah,” she repeats. She’s clutching Billy’s hand so tightly his skin is turning white, but he doesn’t care. He’s needed this all day. He can’t put into words just how much he’s needed it. He’s alone in the world without her, floating in an abyss, and he needs her. He needs her so damn much he aches.

He smooths down one of her knotted curls, his finger trailing down her cheek, her jaw. She gulps and closes her eyes, nestling into his chest.

“The two of you need to stay out of sight until we’re out of town,” Hopper says. “Get down.”

They do, cuddling up on the cab floor together. Billy can’t bring himself to let go. “Scared me so damn much, angel. Jesus.” He can still feel it pressing into him, that fear.

“I’m never going to be normal,” she replies, her voice cracking. “I’m never going to be me again.”

“You’re always gonna be you.” He squeezes her hand. He wants to rip the hospital gown off. It’s too harsh a reminder of what she’s faced. What he couldn’t save her from. “And I’m always gonna be here to make sure you remember it.”

Her eyes fall shut finally, and he’s never seen her look this small, this young. He wishes he could help her. Wishes there was a quick fix. But Fran will never need fixing. She just needs to be set free, and the world won’t let her.

“My fuckin’ angel, huh?” he murmurs, dragging his knuckle against her cheek again. “Always my angel.”

And he’d happily be her devil if she let him. He’d be anything for her. The fucking halo on her head. He doesn’t care as long as he’s hers.

“You shouldn’t be mixed up in this,” she says.

“Too bad,” he replies without missing a beat. “‘Cos I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and me.”

She cups his jaw finally, resting her forehead against his chin. “Thank you for getting me out.”

“I was never gonna leave you, Fran. Never.” He kisses her forehead and then cradles her head against his shoulder, snuggling in this cramped, unknown space while the engine whirs beneath them. And he’s still terrified, but he’s not floating untethered anymore. She’s here, and it has to be enough until they figure out what comes next.

“Never,” he repeats, just to be sure she knows it.

@alloftheimagines

Sat, 04 Jun 2022 17:35:15

masterlist|request|ko-fi

words: 1.7k
warnings: no spoilers i ~~don’t think~~, panic attack, ptsd from, well, hawkins, anxiety, mention of nightmares, monsters, and deaths. nothing you haven’t seen before if you watch the show. angst, comfort, fluff.
prompt: could you do a request for stranger things where the reader is hanging out with everyone (mike, el, max, dustin, will, and Lucas) and they end up having a panic attack and either they calm the reader or they call Steve to come and help calm the reader down.
— I changed it up a bit because i really wanted to write a soft steve thing for a change!!!!

Everybody else seems to move on so quickly, but not you. You feel like you can’t breathe most days. You can’t watch television anymore without seeing the monster in the white noise. You jump at everything: car horns, conversations, loud music. You sleep with the light on because you worry that even now it’s over, the demogorgons still wait in the darkness — where they’ve always been. It was easier before you knew.

Problem is that you work in a movie theatre. While you usually avoid having to work in the screening rooms, your co-worker has called in sick and you have no choice. Worse, Aliens is screening. The creatures remind you all too well of what you and your friends have faced over the last couple of years. What killed Barb and almost Will. Almost all of you. You’re trying to avoid the screen as you stand by the doors, making sure everything is running smoothly, but even when you close your eyes, you see that grotesque face printed on the inside of your eyelids, made more real by the vile noises of the creature in the movie. Your palms grow clammy and cold, your fingers trembling until you clasp them behind your back. When a character screams, you’re not in the theatre anymore. You’re back there, fighting monsters that shouldn’t exist.

Your stomach plummets and fills with sharp-edged nausea. Your lungs tighten until your breaths become shallow gasps. You turn away from the screen in an attempt to distract yourself, but there’s no escape from it now. It’s happening. As though you never left. You can’t stay. You run through the doors and into the light, dizzy and holding back sobs as you search for the bathroom. You’re too disoriented, the world turning beneath your feet — until you hear your name.

“Y/N?” Dustin is suddenly in front of you, brows knitted in concern beneath his cap and a box of popcorn in his hands. “Woah. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I…” You stutter on your own words, your knuckles turning white as you fist your uniform and try desperately to breathe again.

“Hang on.” Dustin is pushing you back. “I’m going to go and get Steve.”

“Steve?”

“He’s right over there.” Dustin points to the queue of people waiting for popcorn and snacks. Steve is at the front with a humongous tray of nachos and a tall cup of cola. “See?”

The sight gives you a little bit of relief — until Dustin mindlessly shouts across the foyer: “Steve! Over here, man!” And then everyone is looking at you, and if you’re not eaten by the monsters in your head first, you’re most certainly going to get caught and fired for leaving your post. But you can’t think about that, because you can still hear the faint rumblings of the movie slipping through the red double doors, and you still can’t breathe, and Dustin or even Steve can’t fix what was broken the night you discovered that monsters are real. That Hawkins sits on top of another world that wants to eat you all up.

Steve abandons his ten-dollar bill as well as his snacks on the counter when he sees you. He runs over to you both, concern etched into his features. You can’t even ask what he’s doing here. Usually, he tells you when he’s going to stop by — to have lunch with you or pick you up, but sometimes to watch a movie with Robin. Your relationship, friendships, was the one good thing to come out of all of this, and you’re terrified now that you might lose it when he sees just how broken you are. You’re usually so good at hiding it. At waiting until you’re alone at night to descend into the fear that never goes away. At smiling and nodding when he asks if you’re okay even though you’re having flashbacks and trying not to scream.

“Babe?” Steve asks again, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

You choke on your own words, squeezing your eyes shut until tears pour down your cheeks. Steve looks at Dustin in question. Dustin shrugs. “She was like this when I found her.”

“Alright. Let’s just sit you down.” Gently, Steve guides you to the nearest bench beside a poster for Stand By Me. “Are you not feeling too good? Stomach flu or cramps or something?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” You say it to convince yourself as well as him, clamping down on your wobbling lower lip until it hurts.

“No, babe, you’re not. Talk to me.” He crouches in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs and running his fingers across the shape of your face. “Please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

“I…” A sob breaks from you as you try to put it into words; can’t. “I don’t know.”

“Did something happen? Did someone do something to you? Is it that hotdog jerk again?”

Another shake of your head. The hotdog jerk is the arrogant, gross thirty-year-old who works on the hotdog stand and is trying to make his way around every female member of staff here, but you’ve already told him where to shove it and he usually leaves you alone. In fact, you wish it’s only that now. A human man you can deal with, even a slimy one like him.

This… This you’ll never be able to fix. It just feels so big sometimes. Like any moment, the Upside Down will open up again and swallow you.

“Then what’s got you this upset? C’mon, baby.” He’s whispering now, begging.

“I was… I was in the screening for Aliens and it just… it felt like it was happening again.”

Understanding dawned across his features, his forehead lining with sympathy and his eyes glimmering. “It’s not. You’re right here with me. You’re safe now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut again, trying to block it all out, but it’s still there, running through your head on a loop.

“Hey.” Steve tilts your head down, so soft it’s like he’s worried you might break. “Look at me. You’re in the movie theatre. You smell that?” He takes a deep breath and you frown in confusion. “Breathe in with me.” You do. “You smell it?”

“What?”

“Popcorn. Buttery, magical popcorn. And listen. Shitty music. There are no monsters here, Y/N. Just popcorn and shitty music and me. Focus on that for me.”

You do, breathing in and out again under his instruction. Slowly, the tension in your chest starts to ease. You keep looking at him, replacing the monster’s face with his soft brown eyes and stupid hair and pink lips. And the claws that were scratching you are just his fingers, feather-light and tender over your cheek, your chin, your neck, your hair. He wipes away your tears as you lean your head back against the wall, exhausted.

“Okay?“ he asks.

You give a weak nod, suddenly aware Dustin has watched the whole thing. He winces and hands you his soda. “I still get nightmares too.”

“You think you can give us a minute, Henderson?” Steve asks.

Dustin gives you another solemn smile before walking away, leaving you with Steve.

You can’t look at him. You’re embarrassed and exhausted and you’re not sure what would have happened if he hadn’t been here to pull you back.

“This happened before?”

You tip your head, tears still streaming steadily down your cheeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

A shrug. Your voice cracks as you say, “Everyone else is just trying to move on from it. Forget. I feel… stuck. Weaker.”

“Are you kidding me?” he replies. “I feel like I’m just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Always. It’s terrifying. It’s not something any of us can forget, and you’re not weak for being afraid. Jesus. I’d be worried if any of us were fine after what we’ve been through.”

“Yeah. I guess.” You attempt a mirthless laugh. It’s not that you think Steve is fine about it. It’s just that he holds it so much better than you. He can make jokes about it. He can carry on with his life. And while there are moments with him where everything feels okay again, where his love makes you genuinely, truly happy, it rarely lasts. There’s always something to push you back to this. To the terror. To the “what ifs” and the dread and the unanswered questions.

“You should have told me. I want you to talk to me about stuff like this. I don’t want you suffering all on your own,” he says.

You swallow another sob, unable to reply. Maybe you hadn’t known just how much you needed someone to be with you in moments like this. Just how much you needed him.

“You don’t have to be okay. Not with me. But you need to tell me what’s going on. You’re not alone in this. We went through it together. We’ll keep going through it together. Okay?” He laced his fingers through yours.

You soften, finally meeting his eye and squeezing his hand. The weight of it, the warmth, is more comfort than you could have asked for. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He kisses your knuckles and moves to sit beside you, pressing his lips on your sweat-slick forehead and pulling you close. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You hold him for all it’s worth, steadying yourself in his grip. He’s your shield, keeping you safe just as you’re about to collapse, and you’ll never not be grateful for the way he loves you. “Go find your boss. Tell her you’re not feeling well. I’m gonna take you home.”

You don’t even have it in you to argue. You know there’s no way you could go back into that screening now, even if your wobbly knees would let you.

“Does that mean we’re not watching the movie?” Dustin complains.

“Sorry, kiddo. I gotta take care of my girl.”

Dustin feigns a gag, and a strained laugh bubbles from you. “It’s okay. We can rent something and watch it at home. No monsters, though.”

Steve smiles, peppering your nose with kisses. “No monsters.”

It’s all you need to hear.

“Also, are we going to talk about the fact that you’re willingly at the movies with Dustin on a Saturday?” you tease.

“Hey!” Dustin scoffs at the same time Steve deadpans, “No. Never. We’ll never talk about it.”

Unlikely, but you let it go. For now.