i'd rather you imperfect
billy hargrove x f!reader
-ever since the first time you met billy hargrove, you've hated him, but after the two of you understand each other more, your relationship blooms into something one of a kind
-(slight) enemies to lovers, violence, arguing, angst, fluff, characters are 18+, domestic abuse, aggression, cursing, flirting, slut shaming, poc reader, reader has curly hair
-word count:3.3k
It was an unbelieably hot day, hot enough that you could practically feel your skin on fire. You were covered in sweat, every inch of your body dripping and red from the sun. You wore a simple tanktop and jean shorts, but you'd rather be naked just for a little bit of relief.
The only thing that kept your spirits up in the heat was the excitment of going to a pool party. You couldn't wait to submerge yourself in the chilly chlorine water and feel the relief of coolness.
Your keys were poised in your hand and your bag swung over your shoulder as you pulled your front door closed behind you, slapping the ground as you rushed to get in your car.
Just as you pulled the door open and threw your bag inside, you heard arguing next door. That was enough to get you to pause, your arm leaning against your cars roof before you flinched away at the burning sensation of the metal.
The neighbors next door had just moved in not even a week ago; a young girl, a teenage guy and their parents. They were chaotic as they moved in, and your parents had invited them over for dinner, but they never showed, which immediately created an opinion of them in the neighborhood.
You cared little. The guy—Billy Hargrove—was set to be enrolled at your school next year and he was the typical bad boy: old Mustang, greased up curly hair, leather jackets and the occasional cigarette notched between his lips as he sat in his car, blasting all sorts of music that your parents sneered at.
"What the fuck's your problem?" Billy spat as his father shoved him out the front door of their house, hands heavy against his shoulders. Neil Hargrove and his son were a carbon copy of each other, despite the obvious aging.
You knew noothing about Neil besides his occupation as a security guard at a nearby facility and the fact that he'd just recently re-married, which further created a negative view of him in your seemingly picture-perfect neighborhood.
"Get the fuck out of my house and don't come back!" Billy stumbled down the steps of the porch and skidded onto his hands and knees as he raised his middle finger at his father, "all because I told you to keep your fucking hands off me? What'll you do when I call the police on your dumbass, huh?" Billy stumbled to his feet and flinched when his father rammed towards him.
Neil punched Billy square in the jaw, knocking him to the side, and when Billy was thoroughly quiet, he scoffed, "fucking pussy." Neil slammed the door closed behind himself and you watched with shocked confusion as Billy pulled himself up once again, muttering things underneath his breath.
As soon as he was standing, he glanced in your direction and immediately locked eyes with you. His face skewed up with nasty contempt, "hey, what the fuck are you looking at?"
"I saw absolutely nothing." You called, beginning to step into your car, but Billy was stomping towards you, mussing his sore jaw.
"Fucking liar, I saw you! I bet you saw the entire thing." He crossed his arms while staring at you, eyes filing over your body like you were a piece of meat.
"Pervert!" You spat under your breath, slamming your car door closed, watching Billy flip you off as he crossed the property line and returned to his house. He hesistated to open the door, then he spun on his feet and got into his car then sped off.
⭒˚｡⋆
After that day, Billy Hargrove swore that you were his enemy, and he did everything he possibly could to make your life miserable. He'd blast loud music from his bedroom, throw pebbles at your windshield until little dents appeared, dump out your trash and laugh at you when your parents forced you to pick it up.
That's when you vowed that he was also your enemy.
On the nights where he'd decide to smoke, you'd make the excuse of watering the plants and accidentally spray him. This would illcit violent anger that included the two of you screaming back and forth.
When Billy broke your car window, his father forced him to give you the money to fix it, and from then on, he hated you.
You'd decided to go to the store to grab yourself some candy one day, when Billy coincedentally came out of his house at the same time as you.
He spotted you immediately as you got in your car, and he veered towards you and knocked against your window (the one he'd paid to fix), motioning for you to roll it down.
You almost didn't listen, feeling the irritation settle in your body as you sighed heavily, reaching down to crank the handle. Billy smiled falsley as he saw you, elbow resting against the door as he looked down at your outfit, "a bit slutty don't you think?"
You were wearing a simple pair of shorts and a tank top. You could admit the tanktop was a bit small, and your nipples were peaking through the fabric, but that wasn't a good enough excuse to justify his slut shaming.
Scoffing in response, you flipped him off, pulling your shirt down over your peaking belly as you started up your car and hooked on your seatbelt, "why are you always worried about what I'm wearing, Billy?" You muttered, glancing at him once more, your cheeks flushed from the heat as you squinted.
Billy moved to block the sun from your face, "I'm assuming you don't want unwanted attention from perverts, do you?"
Huffing once more, you shoved him out of your car, "you're the only pervert I see." Billy let out a violent chuckle, watching you pull away with a frown, which seemed to be his only goal.
⭒˚｡⋆
Billy Hargrove was fighting with his father again. It was violent and loud and angry, full of splattered blood on the concrete of their driveway, and the sound of screaming from inside the house.
Billy spent most of his nights in his car, the seat pulled as far back as it would go, the lights out and one of his legs lifted onto the dash as he bobbed his head to low music, being respectful for once in his life.
The first night you'd seen him in his car, you were coming home late from a party—a party that your parents had no idea you went to. So that meant sneaking back up to your second story window by the ladder leaning against the side of the house.
You were a bit tipsy and giggly, and when you passed by your mailbox and saw Billy sitting in his car, blankly watching you, you flinched, almost dropping to your knees before you pressed a heavy hand to your chest.
"What the fuck are you doing?" You spat quietly, moving around his car to the passenger side. You yanked on the doorhandle mutiple times before he finally cursed and unlocked it for you, snatching your purse from your awaiting grip and tossing it in the backseat.
"And what'll you do if I run to your parents and tell them what you've been up to?" He said it with a quiet scorn, barely any threat in his tone, and you rolled your eyes, leaning your seat back as you stared up through the skylight, watching stars glitter in the sky.
The dress you wore was short and tight, and when Billy glanced down at your bare legs he scoffed, "God, when will you fuckin' learn?"
You ignored him, turning on your side to face him properly.
"You can't walk around fucking naked, dumbass! Especially at night." It seemed he was trying to drill a lesson into you, but you were a teenage girl who knew no better and wanted to look cute—besides, you could wear anything you wanted.
"And when will you learn that it has nothing to do with what I'm wearing? I could go out in a hoodie and sweats and I'll still get catcalled. It doesn't matter."
At your words he quieted, sighed heavily as his red eyes rolled closed. "Get out of my car."
You didn't hesitate as you pushed open the door, knowing if you didn't listen the first time, he'd surely pop off—especially because of everything that had been happening this week.
You could feel Billy's gaze as you traveled to the side of your house, lifting yourself up the ladder carefully, still thinking of his tired eyes.
⭒˚｡⋆
Your father had hired Billy to change the oil in your car. He'd seen Billy working on his own car and decided he was a very skilled person, so the next morning, as you walked out your house to check the mail, there he was.
Billy was slung underneath it, chest sweaty and bare, a few meaningless tattoos spread across his abdomen while he wore a pair of stained jeans.
When you saw him you chuckled, "you should cover up, Billy." He rolled out from under your car and rolled his eyes, hands stained as he pulled a pan full of black oil out, "take your own advice."
You were about to swim in your pool so you wore a simple bikini top and jean shorts, your hair pulled into a messy bun while your skin glistened with sunblock.
"Instead of complaining about my outfits, how about you just compliment them?"
He groaned in response, standing up and easily towering over you, slipping beside you to grab a towel that was slung over the mailbox. Your face skewed up in mock disgust as his sweaty chest touched your arm, "you are disgusting."
Suddenly Billy grabbed you, his hands heavy against your waist as he pulled you close, lips against your cheek. You tried and failed to not smile, a scream erupting from your lips as you pushed him away and spun around to run.
"Don't fucking run now!" He shouted from behind you, following you through your gate to your backyard where the pool was. You stopped on the other side of the pool, watching Billy eye you from the opposite side.
"Don't you dare put those sweaty hands on me again." You said with a betraying laugh, moving around the pool as Billy chased you. When he got his hands on you once again, he threw you over his shoulder, laughing when you did, then he threw you in the pool.
You were airborne for a bit, then when you hit the surface, the chilly water surrounded you like a ice cold blanket. As you finally swam back up, you saw Billy near the edge, still chuckling, his soft, puppy eyes a bit red as they watered from his laughter.
"You asshole!" You climbed out the pool and tried to grab him, but he dodged you easily. When you broke off to grab your towel lying on a lounge chair, Billy let out a loud sigh as he sat on the nearby chair, elbows resting against his knees.
"I think you deserved it."
⭒˚｡⋆
Working as a waitress wasn't an easy job, and although you'd had it for a couple of years now, bad days still hit you as hard as they did in the beginning. You'd had a patch of thrown food on your chest, a hurt ego from being cursed and yelled at, and aching muscles from standing majority of the day.
So as soon as you got home, all you wanted to do was lie in your bed and cry the rest of the day away, but as soon as you saw Billy Hargrove step put of his house, keys spinning on his fingers, you already knew you were going to burst—rather in tears or in anger.
As soon as he saw you, he made his way over, watching you get out of your car and completely ignore him as you walked up your driveway. He followed you, "what the fucks your problem?"
When he noticed your parents weren't home, he followed you inside, slamming the door shut behind himself as he watched you slip off your shoes with no words.
"Hello?" He called as you walked up the stairs, following you shortly after when he realized you still weren't responding. He examined your room as he entered, closing the door again, and leaning against it while watching you with furrowed eyebrows.
When you climbed under your covers without another word, he scoffed, sitting at the edge of your bed, staring ahead at himself in your vanity mirror.
"Get out, Billy!" You suddenly shouted, voice muffled with sadness and tears, a whimper slurring your words at the end. When Billy realized you were crying, he hopped up and threw the covers off of you, ignoring your angry eyes as you fought to get the covers back.
Billy held them tight as you pulled and stood, eyes red and tears streaming down your face, your lips pulled into a pout as they shook to keep in a sob.
"Why the fuck are you even in my house anyway?" He ignored you, grip moved from the covers to your forearms as he grabbed you firmly and pulled you, shaking you, "why the fuck are you crying?"
He held you close by the arms, preventing you from moving away, the two of you pressed chest to chest. When you finally gave up and collasped into him, face buried in his shoulder, Billy froze a bit, body like a stiff board as you cried against him.
Your sobs racked through your body as you struggled to breath, and when Billy finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you close.
He said nothing the entire time, just stayed oddly silent, rubbing up and down your back while his other hand rested against your lower back.
"God, what the fuck am I doing?" He muttered to himself falling backwards against your bed, your head against his chest as your cries finally subsided and you fell into a deep sleep.
⭒˚｡⋆
When you woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty and groggy, Billy was still there, under you and snoring softly as he slept. You panicked when you realized he was there, wondering if your parents had come home, but either way, they didn't know he was there, so you pulled yourself up slowly, slipping from his tight grip.
And once you were finally free, you pulled your cover over his body, sort of confused, but also accepting.
You took a shower afterwards, realizing your parents weren't home and must've decided to take another day on their trip. You decided to wear a cotton pajama set with mini shorts that barely covered your ass and a long sleeve shirt with a lemon in the center.
When you returned to your room and saw Billy rubbing his eyes as he sat on the side of the bed, you paused in the doorway, curious on how he would react. He'd either curse you out and blame you, or accept it.
"Are you going home?" You questioned and Billy glanced up at you and sighed, his eyes red from sleep and soft as they usually were. He stood and stretched, shirt slipping up to reveal his apollos belt, the muscles there tight.
Billy didn't answer at first as he watched you silently, eyes running down your body, eyes rolling before he shook his head. "I'd rather not see my dickhead of a father right now." His voice was soft and still musky from sleep, his footsteps light as he walked over to you, hand poised against the doorframe as he looked down at you.
You nodded sharply, gaze moving away from his as he continued staring at you, his fingers gripping onto his waistband which revealed a small sliver of his hips.
"My parents won't be home 'till later tomorrow. At least midnight." Bily smirked at your tone, pushing past you gently, his hand brushing against your side, "I need some fuckin' food."
You chuckled softly, spinning around to follow him downstairs.
Billy began snacking on a handfull of grapes as he leaned against the sink, thinking to himself. You on the other hand made a sandwich and sat at your dining table, one of your legs pulled up on the chair so you could rest your chin against it.
When Billy saw you sitting, he joined you, his feet brushing yours, "why were you crying earlier?"
You scoffed at the thought of the reason, "shit day at work. People threw food at me, cursed at me—"
"—nothing I wouldn't do. And you've never cried." You laughed at his words with a nod, while Billy grabbed the crusts of your sandwich and stuffed them into his mouth.
"You've never made me cry."
"I'd never make you cry."
You scoffed playfully, "with all the things you've said to me, I'm surprised I haven't cried already."
Billy frowned at that, "sorry."
You accepted his apology with a nod, standing up to throw away your trash. When you returned to the dining room, Billy was gone, and before you noticed, he was directly behind you, arms slipping around your waist.
"I don't mean to hurt you."
"Liar." You grabbed his wrists, head against his shoulder.
"Fine, I don't want to mean to hurt your feelings anymore. I want to make you happy."
You hummed, "and what changed?"
Billy rocked back and forth with you, like there was music that only the two of you could hear. As his hands trailed down your thighs and he squeezed you, he answered, "when I realized you struggle. You aren't perfect, and perfect people make me sick."
Your eyes fluttered closed as Billy kissed your temple, his scent of cigarette smoke and cologne surrounding you, "no one's perfect."
⭒˚｡⋆
You were lounging in your backyard reading a book when you heard the back gate creak open. Billy had a towel wrapped around his neck, and pair of camoflauge swim shorts on.
"Here to use me for my pool?" You called, glancing up from your book, setting it aside afterwards as Billy sat on the bottom of your lounge chair.
"Yep, definetely here for the pool and not you." Billy scooted closer to you and eyed you as you moved closer to him, his fingers picking at your bikini bottoms.
"Cute." You wore a simple red and white polka dotted suit, the bottoms tied on near your hips while the top was a simple triangle top.
You hummed in response, standing up to put on sunblock, your ass practically in his face, and Billy shamelessly stared, eyes trailing up your back to your neck where he finally stood and grabbed the bottle, beginning to spray it on you.
"Are your parents home?" You shook your head and Billy practically jumped in happiness as he threw the sunblock aside and delivered a sharp slap to your ass that made you screech.
"Billy, you asshole!" He returned to grip your behind, hands firm against you while he grabbed your hand and tugged you closer, eyes heavy with arousal that made you blush and look away.
"Come on, look at me." He said with a drag, arms wrapping around you, lips pressed against your chin as you watched him, your arms against his shoulders.
Billy kissed rough and passionately, his lips pushing against yours like they've always belonged there, his hand reaching up to grip your hair and tugged you backwards so he could get a better angle.
His skin was soft and sticky against yours, your tongue poking out to dance with his as he groaned into the kiss, your hand tucked into the waistband of his pants.
When he bit at your lip, enough to make you moan out, he chuckled, arm hooked around your waist to support you. You pulled away and pressed your forehead to his chest, "why do you bite so hard?"
