Chapter Text
It was the beginning of the new school year. You watched from the hood of your car as the hordes of students found their cliques; the cheerleader’s squeals ringing in your ear and hurting your teeth, the jocks doing that stupid half-hug half-handshake bullshit to show their affection in the least emasculating way possible, and the nerds gathering around some stupid DND magazine. You hated it. Every school was the same – and you’d been to a lot of them throughout your eighteen years – and you dreaded spending the rest of the school year with these animals.
You took a last drag of your cigarette before you stubbed it out on the ground and grabbed your bag from the passenger side of the car. After locking your car doors, you made your way towards Hawkins High School’s front doors and began your journey to homeroom. That involved grabbing your schedule from the front office, manoeuvring your way through the confusing hallways, and getting lost a few times before you finally found the classroom.
As you walked in, you immediately felt everyone’s eyes turn to you. Fuck me, it really is the same everywhere. Everybody loved to stare at the new kid. Well, they could stare all they wanted; they weren’t going to be staring at you for much longer.
School wasn’t really your thing. What with the constant moving and inability to fit into any school you were forced to go to, you had pretty much given up with it all. Sure, that meant you’d been held back a year which you begrudged, but you refused to give the education system satisfaction in knowing you were going to conform to their bullshit. That’s why, after homeroom was done, you were going to find the nearest spot to smoke in and plant yourself there until you felt like going to the classes you actually thought would be important. You only needed to attend the bare minimum to graduate, and so you would only do that and nothing more. Fortunately, first period was art class, and who the fuck needed that?
You found a seat in the back of the class, all eyes staring and mouths whispering as you walked past the students. You found it hard not to roll your eyes at everyone; instead, you turned your attention to the window next to you and found something to busy yourself with.
The classroom overlooked the football pitch and bleachers framing it. It was empty, of course; classes hadn’t even started yet, apart from one figure trapsing his way across the field towards the bleachers, disappearing behind them. Your brows furrowed curiously; maybe that was where everyone went to skip class. You decided you would head there once homeroom was done.
And you did. As soon as the bell rang, signalling the end of homeroom, you grabbed your bag and headed out of the building, beelining towards the back of the bleachers. It took you around ten minutes or so to get there, and when you did, you saw a dark figure sitting with his back against the metal braces of the slanted bleacher frames, smoking a cigarette and leaning his head back as he blew smoke through parted lips.
You watched him for a moment; his whole demeanour was attractive, you had to admit. Long hair, a black leather jacket hugging wide shoulders and bulging arms, a single earring catching the light as his head tilted. You only realised you were staring for longer than expected when a voice pulled you out of your thoughts, making you jump.
“What the fuck are you looking at?”
Sharp, almost like a hiss, his words made you swallow and try to recompose yourself. You’d never been caught gawking at someone like that before and you were lucky it was so much darker under the bleachers since you were sure your cheeks were flushed.
“You got a spare smoke?” you asked coolly, as if nothing had happened, shoving your hands into your black denim jacket pockets.
“Get your own and fuck off.”
Your brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I ain’t some fucking charity handing out cigarettes I bought with my own damn money. You want to smoke? Get a job and buy your fucking own.”
You started marching up to the figure, dropping your bag down before you squared up to him. He stood up when he saw you approaching, and it was only then you realised he towered over you, shoulders. Regardless, nobody spoke to you like that, and you were about to give him a piece of your mind.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, asshole?”
He didn’t back down. His body stiffened, sure, but it was almost like he was standing his ground more than anything. “You, princess. You think you can wander into this school and make demands? What do you think this is, the royal high school of fucking pushovers?”
“Oh, yeah, just keep ‘em coming, prick. Show me how little your mommy taught you how to be polite and share with people.”
You really didn’t expect this guy to do what he did next, but suddenly your positions were flipped, and he was pinning you against the metal of the bleachers. Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed his forearm against the length of your collarbone.
“Keep that fucking name out your mouth, or I’ll find a way to close it for you.”
His voice was dark, low; almost like a growl as his piercing blue eyes darkened as they bore into you. Why… why were you suddenly aroused? You swallowed and kept quiet, your heart beating so harshly against your ribcage you were sure he’d feel it.
There was so much tension in the air as you both stared at each other intensely. Neither of you moved a muscle, and after a while it was clear you were obviously just taking each other in as the anger in his demeanour receded slowly. You could see him scanning your features, his eyes studying yours, then moving south to your cheeks then your nose, landing at your mouth and… staying there.
It was like he was tracing the outline of your lips with his eyes, and it made the subtle tingling in between your legs become more prominent; the feeling of dampness forming against the cotton of your underwear. Fuck. Nobody had ever had this effect on you – why was it suddenly the man becoming borderline violent with you that seemed to do the trick?
He finally broke the silence, his voice still low and gruff but not so venomous anymore. “What’s your name?”
“Y/N.”
You embarrassed yourself by the way you blurted out your name like it was nothing. Fuck. You were literally putty in this stranger’s hands.
“Hargrove. Billy Hargove. Welcome to Hawkins High School, Y/N, now stay the fuck away from me, alright?”
With that, he gave you a slight shove as he pushed himself off you. The cigarette, which had been in his free hand the whole time, was begging to be flicked free of ash, and so Billy did just that before he placed it back between his lips and took another drag. He purposely blew the cloud of smoke towards you, and you coughed a little as you waved the smoke away from your face, before looking over at him as he walked away from you.
You were so fucking turned on at that point you had no idea what to do with yourself.
As a distraction, you decided to go to your next class. It wasn’t a useful one – drama, of all things – but at least it would take your mind off things, and hey, a little extra credit wouldn’t hurt.
You weren’t really listening when the teacher was explaining the plan for the class. All you caught was ‘group scene, play fighting’ and you pretty much got the gist of it. Your group was composed of two girls, including you, and two guys. The guys wanted to fight each other, meaning it would be you and the other chick fighting too, but you found it cliché, and after mentioning that you decided it would be a mixed-sex fight scene. Maybe you just wanted to have another man’s hands on you after the Billy incident.
The kid you were paired with was taller than you, a jock with broader shoulders and bigger hands than you’d ever seen. He was the quarterback, and you could see why. You’d worked out a plan on who was ‘hitting’ where, who would be missing, who would be falling… and somehow, you’d managed to convince him to fake choke you. Okay, maybe you were still a little heated from Billy after all.
By the time your group was up to perform, the scene was going well. Your other two partners had started the scene by tumbling through a makeshift door and going at it. You were the ‘backup’ – you had started running towards them to help but you felt strong hands on your waist pulling you back and spinning you around so the antagonist could ‘punch’ you. You recoiled, stumbling back, and holding your face, but you bounced back quick, retaliating with ‘punches’ and ‘kicks’ where you could.
Suddenly, after recovering from a ‘blow’ to the stomach, the jock ran towards you like a bulldozer and his hands wrapped around your neck. Of course, he was putting no pressure on you at all, but you had to make it seem like he was choking you out.
And it was at this point that you realised the door of the classroom was open, and Billy Hargrove, who’d just happened to be passing by at the very moment you were getting fake choked, was watching you like a hawk, smirking as he crossed his strong arms over his chest just a few feet outside the doorframe.
You were gone; the way he looked at you mixed with the sensation of a strong hand on your neck… fuck, your panties had to be soaked by now.
Thankfully, it had been scripted for the choke to take you out of the fight until your partner managed to save you by ‘hitting’ your antagonist over the head with a blunt object after winning her own fight, and you were released, your hands reaching to your throat as you pretended to recover from the fight.
“You alright?” your partner asked once the scene ended, the concern on her face looking so genuine you could swear it was real.
You took a final glance back at the door, only to see Billy had disappeared, before you looked back at her. “Yeah,” you said breathily, nodding as you rubbed your neck, “I’m good.”
The class applauded and the teacher praised you before giving you feedback. It was all pretty positive, apart from a few things she told you to improve on, but overall, it was a great performance. You wanted to be happy, but all you could think of was Billy. Billy fucking Hargrove who’d been nothing but a dick to you since you met him. How could someone you’d barely had a civil conversation with get in your head so much? You had no idea. All you knew was how badly you wished it was his hands wrapped around your throat instead of your scene partner’s.
You had a couple of free periods in between classes, and you wanted nothing more than to run to the bleachers and smoke there, but you were terrified of running into Billy again. You couldn’t deal with another encounter that left you wetter than a water slide when you could do nothing to relieve yourself. So, you escaped to the library, studied for the classes you needed to, and slowly got through the rest of the day without bumping into him again.
Well, or so you thought you had.
As you walked out of school towards where you left your car, your heart stopped as you saw Billy walking to the car next to it. Of course. Of fucking course you just happened to park next to his fucking car. It made sense, of course, it was a gorgeous car – you’d admired it this morning as you smoked, but just didn’t see who the owner of it was.
You stopped in your place, hesitating to move towards your car. You considered waiting until he left, but as you saw him pull out his cigarettes and lighter you figured he wouldn’t be leaving for long and it would look even worse if he saw you idling like an idiot. So, you sighed, pulled out a cigarette of your own, lit it, and continued the walk towards your car.
Your scarlet 1967 Mustang glistened under the sun, and you were happy to see no little turd had scratched her while you were away. You tried to beeline for the driver side door, but a familiar figure stopped you before you could open the door.
“Y/L/N, I thought I told you to stay away from me?”
“Says the dick who was spying on me during drama class.”
He chuckled as he blew smoke towards your face, again. You huffed and turned your head away from it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of becoming a coughing, spluttering idiot again. When your gaze returned to him, it was a glare.
“Oh, come on, how could anyone resist watching a bitch get choked out like that? You look hot with those pleading eyes of yours, babe.”
Fuck, there goes the tingling between your legs again.
You raised your hand to take a drag of your cigarette, but before it could even get close to your lips, Billy’s hand clasped around your wrist, catching it, and holding it firmly as he looked you in the eye. “Thought you didn’t have any cigarettes, huh? Were you lying to me earlier?”
You tried pulling your wrist free, but Billy was strong; so much stronger than you, so you simply narrowed your eyes as you returned the stare. “I got some from someone else.”
Okay, it was a lie. The whole borrowing a cigarette from Billy this morning was purely a spur-of-the-moment lie that just backfired. You always had cigarettes on you. Usually a couple packets so you would never run out. You just wanted to not look like a gawking idiot under the bleachers, but you obviously hadn’t thought all that through. Oh, how you regretted it.
“I can tell when you’re lying, sweetheart.”
“And how the fuck would you know that? You don’t know shit about me, Hargrove.”
“Hmm… I just know when people are lying. They always have a tell, and yours is that you glance away so you don’t have to look at me and see me watch you lying to me.”
The way he carried himself, so confident and dominant, was so fucking hot – you wanted to explode. The way he held you in place, captured you both physically and mentally; you wanted to give him everything he wanted from you. But you had to stay strong. You couldn’t give into him so easily.
You finally managed to break free just before the ash from your cigarette was about to drop onto your hand, and you flicked it away quickly before it could.
“I’m going home now. Goodbye, Billy,” you responded, statically, trying not to show any of the effect he had on you. You placed the cigarette between your lips as you opened your car door and slipped into the driver’s seat. You threw your bag onto the passenger’s seat before slipping the key into the ignition and starting up the Mustang with a satisfying rumble. You rolled down the window instinctively, almost forgetting Billy was still there, until he dipped his head into the car.
You jumped a little at the sudden proximity of him.
“Sexy fucking car, by the way,” he said as he took a quick scan of the interior before his eyes landed on yours. “You should let me ride her sometime.”
“In your dreams, Hargrove. Now get the fuck out my car.”
With that, you put the car in drive and pulled out of the space, only giving Billy a small window to actually pull out of your car before he would be pulled along with it, and you finally left the school premises.
Thank God. You had a dildo at home with your name on it.