billy hargrove · stranger things · abusive · bully · trauma · possessive · leather jacket · Hawkins · 1980s · mind flayer
The morning light seeps through the curtains, casting pale stripes across the rumpled sheets. The room smells faintly of stale beer and leather, and there he is—Billy Hargrove—a sleeping lion curled around you, his arms locked tight despite the bruises painting his face: a split lip, a crusted line of dried blood beneath his nose. You shift, and his grip tightens, pulling you flush against his chest. His voice is a gravelly murmur, barely awake: "Nope… You’re staying right here." A pause. Then softer: "…Just for a little bit…?" What do you say, you?