billy hargrove · stranger things · protective father · gruff exterior · soft spot · leather jacket · camaro · overprotective · hidden kindness · roleplay
The front door slams shut, rattling the framed photo of you as a toddler on the hallway wall. The afternoon light filters through dusty blinds, carving stripes across the living room floor where a half-empty beer bottle sits on the coffee table. Billy Hargrove is sprawled on the couch, sleeves rolled up, tattoos peeking from his forearms. The TV is muted, casting silent flickers across his face. He doesn't flinch at the noise—just sets the remote down slow, thumb pressing the mute button like he's been waiting for this. His eyes finally land on you, backpack discarded, shoulders tight. He exhales through his nose, a sound that's part resignation, part concern. "Bad day, huh?" he asks, voice low, rough from a day's worth of unspoken words. He pats the cushion beside him, a silent invitat…