One-shots and Imagines

Billy Hargrove - Soccer

As Y/N gets out of the car, he realizes that Billy parked a lot closer than he thought he did. Y/N walks past Billy, flashing a small grin. It looks as if Billy was going to wave because he lifts his hand that isn't holding his cigarette up — but he just moves to scratch at his chest.

While he's on the field, he feels someone staring. He wants to say that it's Billy, because god knows no one comes to watch for Y/N — but he really can't pin point it because of how intense the game is.

But to no one's surprise, Hawkins wins again. Y/N scoring 5 goals. He's wiping his sweat as he walks to the car and is startled by a figure leaning against the driver's side.

"You're on my car."

"I know that."

Y/N sighs, he really doesn't want any trouble. He's just tired and he seriously wants to shower. "Look man, I don't know what you want from me — "

"Who said I wanted anything?" Billy says, pushing himself off the car to walk towards to Y/N. "I just wanted to tell you that — "

"Did Greg do something again? I suggest you take that up with him and not me." Y/N interrupts, adjusting his bag on his back.

Billy's a lot closer now and he smiles and — woah this guy is a lot more attractive up close. "I'd understand the attitude if you guys lost, but you made that team eat your dust."

Did Billy Hargrove just compliment him?

"I don't think I follow.."

Billy laughs at that. "Didn't think Mr. MVP would be so humble." He throws an arm over Y/N's shoulder, despite how sweaty he must be. "I'm tryna' say that you killed it out there, dude."

Y/N has to fight a smile at that. Despite being known at school for playing on the soccer team, nobody's taken the time to actually go and tell him that he did a good job. "Thanks. Thank you. I tried."

Billy pats Y/N's back, moving to walk away. "Keep up the good work."

"Wait — " Y/N says without thinking and Billy turns around, "Did you come here for me?" There's a pause. "Last time you were here you didn't talk to anyone."

"You watching me, creep?"

"You didn't answer my question."

With the field lights glaring down on them, Y/N can see the red tint that comes up to Billy's face. "Don't let it get to your head, punk." He smiles and struts towards his stupid Camaro.

Y/N smiles to himself. Maybe this Billy Hargrove isn't so bad after all.

The next couple games go by quickly, faceless teams losing — Y/N doesn't remember much, other than after the games. He and Billy would lean against his car and talk for as long as it takes for the field lights to turn off, leaving them laughing in the dark.

On the night of the championship game, Y/N's mom drops him instead of having him take the car because she has a late meeting.

Y/N steps out of the car, and just as he does — hears that damn Camaro, he hates to admit that it's become music to his ears.

Billy pulls into the parking spot while Y/N waits for him to get down. "Mommy dropped you today?" He says jokingly.

Y/N lightly punches his shoulder and hands him his bag to hold. He's already put on all of his equipment, but he's worried that it'll rain tonight — he doesn't want his bag to get soaked.

"Good luck, hot stuff. Not that you'll need it." Billy says and Y/N can't help but mentally shut down at that for a minute, then he decides to fire back.