Stranger Things - Imagines

Billy Hargrove X Reader - Last Name

A/N - This chapter was inspired by the song Last Name by Carrie Underwood. Both Reader and Billy are over 21 at the time of this story and are both legal to drink, even if they are doing it pretty irresponsibly. I hope you all enjoy it. 

You were giggling as you weaved your way through the crowd, well aware of the fact that you'd lost track of your friends a couple of drinks ago. You loved your friends, of course, you did, but they tended to be a little too motherly when you were drinking and sometimes, it became a bit of a buzzkill. So, you'd allowed yourself to slip away, hoping that they would leave you be rather than hunt you down. That had been about 45 minutes ago and you'd yet to see a search party bustling around the bar. 

A soft sigh slipped out of you as you finally reached the bar, leaning on it heavily. Yep, you were definitely drunk and you would almost certainly regret it in the morning. But God, it was so fun at the moment that you couldn't really bring yourself to care. The music was loud and the people around you were laughing and dancing and drinking. The energy was so high that you would've been buzzed off of just that, alcohol or not. 

"Having a good time?" a voice started beside you, and your head lulled sideways to see a man resting against the bar in a pretty similar stance as you. Hell, there was a possibility that he was even drunker than you were, which really was saying something. You nodded, your eyes roaming over his face, absorbing the sharp jaw and kind smile. God, he was hot as all Hell, too. "Billy," he hummed, holding out his hand in your direction, his body stumbling slightly before he caught himself on the edge of the bar again. 

"Y/N," you responded, offering him your sweetest smile as you took his hand, your heart practically beating out of your chest as he lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

"It's a pleasure," he told you, his eyes slipping out of focus for just a second before settling back on your face. "God, you're gorgeous," he pressed on, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as you snorted with laughter at his comment. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, acutely aware of his hand continuing to hold yours, his thumb running over the warm skin delicately. "Yeah?" you hummed softly, watching him nod his answer. "Then how about you buy me a drink?"

Billy was grinning when he shifted a little closer to you. "Damn," he murmured softly, patting the bar lightly to get the bartender's attention, his eyes still focused on you. "Can you get this Pretty Lady whatever she wants, on me? And a bottle of Bud, too." 

You quickly ordered your drink of choice, letting Billy's hand wander to rest on your hip lightly. 

*Time Skip*

Waking up was more painful than you had been expecting, the sun pooling through threadbare curtains and directly into your face. Perhaps, if you hadn't been so hungover you would've appreciated the sensation of its warmth on your skin, but right now all you wanted you to lay completely still in a pitch-black room until the throbbing in your head dissipated. You grumbled, reaching unsuccessfully for the curtains in an attempt to pull them closed a little further and give yourself a little reprise from the sunlight. And then, as you shifted a little further forward, your fingers grazing the fabric, an arm slipped over your hip, drawing you back into a firm body. 

You froze on the spot, hand still outstretched as you attempted to take in your surroundings. Nope, those weren't your curtains. And that tree outside the window definitely wasn't visible from your bedroom. This wasn't even your house, let alone your bed. 

A soft exhale sounded from over your shoulder, warm breath fanning over your skin. Shit. This was definitely someone else's bed. You shifted forwards slightly, scanning the floor in search of your purse and finding it propped up on a desk chair on the other side of the room. 

"Quit moving," a voice mumbled, his grip on your tightening slightly. You knew that voice. Why the Hell did you know that voice? In a flash, a memory of the night before came flooding back to you. You and Billy were in a dark corner of the bar making out like you were two idiot teenagers rather than the grown adults you knew yourself to be. Fuck. You'd known Billy for not even 12 hours and you were waking up in his bed in a pretty obvious state of undress. Your mom would lose her mind if she knew where you were right now. Hell, your friends would go pretty crazy too. 

"Billy?" you breathed out, reaching down to take his hand in yours, squeezing it in an attempt to make him wake up properly. It was then that you felt the metal band on his ring finger, and your mind went completely blank. Shit. Billy was a married man and he'd brought you back to his house. You'd been the other woman. God, you'd not even thought to ask-

Billy shifted forward, burrowing his face into your neck and taking a deep breath. And then, he'd gone completely still. He wasn't exactly a stranger to a one-night stand, but usually, he was sober enough to remember them happening and right now, he was more lost than ever. 

"Hi," he uttered, his confusion clear in his voice as he pulled back again, retrieving his hand from yours as delicately as he could manage. 

"Hi?" you breathed out, scrambling out of bed and grabbing the first piece of clothing you could find to throw on a cover your modesty. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" you bit at him, making a beeline for your purse and searching through it to check that all your stuff was still there. As long as you had your wallet you could at least get a cab home-

"Why're you mad at me?"

You froze, turning to look at him with wide eyes. "You're married and you didn't even tell me," you bit out, watching his brow furrow in confusion. "I wouldn't have slept with you if I'd known I was destroying some poor woman's marriage-"

"I'm not married."

You were glaring at him now, looking so damn mad that for a second, Billy considered whether he was wrong. Maybe he was married. You seemed pretty damn certain about it. 

"You're wearing a Goddamn wedding ring," you spat at him. "God, if you're going to lie to me, at least try and make it convincing."

Billy lifted his hand, his eyes focusing in on the wedding band on his ring finger. Well shit. He didn't remember that one bit. "I don't have a wife," he breathed out, twisting the ring around his finger delicately. "You're welcome to look around, you won't find any wife shit-"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes roaming around the room. He was right. There wasn't a single feminine touch in the room, besides your clothes littering the carpet. "Then why are you wearing that," you started, your voice a little softer as you gestured at him. 

He sat up rather suddenly after that, clutching at the covers as he moved along the bed towards you, catching your hand and pulling it closer. "Okay, Little Miss High-and-mighty," he uttered, holding it up to show you your own finger. "Looks like someone's been projecting-"

The breath left your lungs as you looked at your hand, finding a ring of your own decorating your finger. "Fuck," you muttered. "I'm not married," you pressed on, fishing your wallet out and pulling out your ID. "Miss. Not Mrs," you pointed out, watching his brow furrow as he glanced behind you at your purse, nodding towards it.

"What's that?"

Peeking out from under your bag was a shiny bit of photo paper. When you pulled it out, your stomach turned over. There you both were, looking happy as anything but drunk off of your asses, standing outside a 24-hour chapel. Billy was holding you tight to him, his lips pressed to yours as you were clearly giggling. Shit, you knew that place. You'd gone out there when your friend had gotten herself knocked up by her high school sweetheart. 

"Fuck," you breathed out, blinking down at it in the hopes that it would change if you looked for long enough. "I think I'm your wife."

Billy reached past you, grabbing for another piece of card. "Well," he hummed, holding it up for you to look at. A wedding certificate, a completely legally binding one with all the right signatures, too. "Looks like you're Mrs Hargrove now."

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