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#harringrove

I don’t know it just popped in my head. I didn’t say this one was me just to clarify in case anyone was thinking otherwise I did not try to cook a chicken with a firework. So far the only dumbass incidents from my own life I’ve used are the popcorn comment (In my defense I was really tired and a little tipsy) and the toaster, though my incident was less dramatic and porny.

So specifically this relates to the tags form this post. It’s part of Dumbass Steve and takes place after the Toaster adventure. 

Dumbass Steve and the Firework Chicken

Steve takes the kids to the flea market a town over, ending up with a haul of fresh fruits and candied nuts before the kids are dragging him into a little shop selling fireworks. Despite that fourth of July night the kids still think fireworks or awesome, hell they might like them even more after having used them to defeat an inter dimensional monster. Steve is hesitant because Billy understandable does not do well around fireworks. The kids keep insisting making a promise not to use them anywhere near the house of the mechanic shop and to give Steve’s a heads up on the where and when and Steve goes in with them.

 Steve is definitely not planning on buying any, he does not have any use for fireworks but the salesmen is very persistent, is not really taking no for an answer and just starts spitting out various uses for fireworks trying to convince him. The kids scoff at some of his suggestions because obviously he is full of shit but Steve poor gullible Steve is taken in by the spiel and when the man mentions cooking with them well Steve is curious. One of the kids points out that the man is “full of shit, no one cooks with fireworks” but the man insists even offers to write a recipe out for Steve and well Billy is going out of town next week, he could give it a try without worrying about upsetting him. 

 Max is not with them on this trip or she would have nipped this shit in the bud and told Billy as soon as they got home. Instead Steve starches his fireworks and recipe in the rarely used guestroom closet until next weekend. Steve is excited about it, it is one of the only thing keeping him from getting too sad about a whole weekend without Billy but he is going to have Tommy around for the weekend to keep him company like old times and Steve has missed just hanging out and shooting the shit with him.

 Tommy shows up with a duffle and booze shortly before Billy is leaving gets a firm “Keep him the fuck out of trouble this time or I swear to god Hagan!” on Billy’s way out the door. Billy ignores the middle finger Tommy sends his way as he pauses to give Steve one last kiss before he leaves.

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My Stupid head canon for this week is: Billy Hargrove is a Massive Stick in the Mud.

Hear me out.

He spends years trying to get beyond the stretch of his own skin. Sitting around all day because he’d rather be alone. Poking and feeling the curves and valleys of something too soft to belong to a boy. An alpha male, a. Hargrove. Until Billy can’t stand the sight of himself in the mirror over the bathroom sink.

So he gets into bartering. 

Selling his soul.

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hi please send me harringrove stuff (or just one of the boys, i’m cool either way)

headcannons, ideas, blurb-y things, etc. etc.

i don’t care. i just wanna talk about my boys

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i love starting out as an ‘x reader’ writer and then dissolving into someone who falls in love with two guys fallin’ in love.

ahhh how the tables have turned.

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i was thinking of susan teaching billy to sew to work on his fine motor skills while his hands are still stiff, but he’s hesitant to tell anybody he’s…sewing (“boys don’t sew” etc). but then steve offhandedly mentions he wishes he had a vest just like han solo because sometimes he pretends his family video vest is a han solo vest but it’s green and that’s just not the same when he’s pretending to whip out a blaster and weeks later billy presents him with a goddamn han solo vest.

and steve is like “HOLY SHIT WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?! IT LOOKS JUST LIKE HAN SOLO’S VEST!”

and billy mumbled, “i kinda made it sorta.”

steve is astounded. “you made this??? with your own hands? that’s AMAZING.”

could not be more impressed if billy was an actual jedi.

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break (like waves)

e, 93.2k, 12/12, complete

‘We’re good together,’ Harrington says to the darkness above. Not a question. Matter of fact. He turns to Billy, a smile sweet enough to make Billy want to do something reckless. Something stupid. ‘I’m telling you, heartbreaker. We’re gonna be unstoppable.’

Billy wants to ask. If he means tomorrow. If he means just for the game.

Wants to ask if he means forever.

He’s never wanted anyone to mean forever before.

or; falling (in love), the hard way

read it on ao3

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Billy has a great dane (or rottweiler) that is absolutely humongous but he can and will carry it around like a baby.

It always brightens Steve’s day when he comes home to Billy bouncing around to the radio with this huge dog in his arms.

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Okay I think this will get it out of my system. I started writing this before I even finished the other part last night, just jotted a few notes before finishing the other one and then going to bed because I was really tired. I think I like the way this one turned out better.

A kind of continuation of the one I posted last night where Billy pisses on Steve

Warnings for watersports, does this count as bladder desperation I’m to lazy to look up the definition and check but I think it technically fits, anal sex, creampie. 

Steve Pissing on Billy

Steve is panting cock spent as Billy’s softens inside of him sweat cooling on their skin. Billy below him is in a similar state but far less worn as Steve had been doing all of the hard work. Billy’s hands find his hips holding tight when Steve goes to lift up.

 "Stay a while you’re warm.“ Billy gives his hips a little roll to indicate exactly what part of him he wants Steve to continue keeping warm and Steve does not think it is attractive.

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After a shower, when Steve’s skin is shiny with lotion, he is almost irresistible to Billy. It’s like his flushed shoulders are begging to be touched and the warm insides of his thighs call for Billy’s lips to mark him up until he’s hard and leaking onto his stomach.

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Answer

one of my favorite hcs is that steve can carry billy :’)) it’s so cute ugh

i have an odd hc that steve kinda grew post s3?? like mayb gained some healthy weight and/or muscle and isn’t as skinny?? idk but he looks Good ok

i can totally see steve doing it in front of the party for the first time and everyone being like ??? huh??? and him doing it in public?? he has billy turning bright red aaahhh this is so cute thank u

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I feel like Billy is one of those people who laughs so hard they snort. He would then get embarrassed by said snort but would continue laughing. Also because he dates Steve, it happens every day.

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after finding his way back bringing hell with him. after all of them fighting the good fight against the monsters and winning billy kind of— ‘inherits’ hopper’s cabin.

(“it’s yours, kid. for as long as you need it. for as long as you have to stay”).

that’s where he hid, the almost two years and a half he spent on the upside-down. and that’s the right word, isn’t it?, because he can’t go away, like he once dreamed, because somebody has to. stay. and billy, he feels like he’s the inevitable option, the one that’s been scarred the most for what’s gonna forever lurk on the other side, awaiting for a new opportunity to come back so

most of the kids go and joyce goes and hopper goes taking jane with him and, even max goes, eventually (finally. away from this. away from him) to try and live their lives without fear in their hearts and the handle of an axe always at hand’s reach, resting against the side of the bed but

steve

he stays, too,

re-opens that old dinner at the end of randolph lane with that girl-friend of his (“c'mon, hargrove. as if she’d ever let you forget what her name is”) comes visiting billy way more often than, if billy’s reading him right (and billy learned his lessons. got good at reading people. he is right), he himself expected.

but he does and,

hangs out with billy on the porch some afternoons. crickets chirping. sun setting. beers in hand. rolls his eyes at the jokes billy makes. makes jokes billy rolls his eyes at. helps billy repair the boiler, even if he keeps on complaining all the time. bites a wayward, sideways smile, back leaned against the creaky door of the chicken run as billy feeds his chickens

“but look at you, hargrove. who would have thought you’d become such a hick? with your chickens and your wood-cutting thing and now that beard

“got a problem with the chickens?”

his eyes on the wicked kind of bright as he purses his lips and

“mmm no. with the chickens? no.”

and days go by and go by and go by, like handfuls of sand slipping through his fingers but, steve keeps on coming visiting way more often than they both expected and they play cards and ‘clue’ and baseball until the weather turns too harsh and their winter clothes too restrictive and

"you know? you― look unexpectedly good in that”

says steve the morning of the first snow, reaching out to rearrange the neck of billy’s heavy winter jacket, the one he kind of inherited with the cabin too, the one that’s soft shearling on the inside and dark-red plaid on the outside and isn’t as big for him as it used to be, anymore

“sure? not to hick-y?” billy snorts, hands warming up from the cup of coffee steve brought for him, heart warming-up a little too when he shrugs and

“definitely hick-y but. it suits you. and that stupid beard too”

and it gets lonely, sometimes, in the middle of the woods. gets cold and dark and scary. but steve comes visiting almost every day, now. eats the shitty food billy makes or brings some from the restaurant or even cooks it himself right then and there because

“people who’ve been to hell and back shouldn’t live on boxed spaghetti, hargrove. besides, i like doing it”

“mmmm. the infamous king of hawkins. who would have thought” billy echoes, spreading cream cheese on a slice of toasted bread for the appetizers. just because he can, because steve always glares at him but it’s always there too, that blinding smile he has, along with the raw honesty laying heavy on his eyelids,

“well, i’m not specially good at it but― i’m not bad either. and for me that’s. more than enough” he says, words carrying the weight of a first-time-spoken secret. because, apparently, billy has become important enough, close enough, for him to grant him that privilege but also the one of steve lowering his gaze, lowering his voice, lowering his guard, adding “and i’m tired of trying to be enough for anybody else”

and, apparently, billy has become bold enough to admit out loud that

“well, pretty boy. for me, you’re pretty much amazing”

and he can see it, the unexpectedness of it, lighting steve’s smile even brighter, making his own heart even warmer, but it’s an unexpected kind of life, this one he’s living, full of ‘who would have thought’s

full of steve’s own unexpectedness,

and billy should feel alone. five years hiding in the woods. half down. half up. and before that, a whole lifetime of hiding in the open. felt alone for so long but. steve lingers, now the days get shorter and nights turn colder and having no reason to stay around becomes even more unreasonable. but then one of them finds one that seems reasonable enough like

 "they’re passing die hard in channel four in about half an hour so. ‘am gonna get the fireplace running and, you can make popcorn?“

"die hard” steve snorts “you’re such a testosteronic cliché, hargrove”

"and you spend way too much time with robin”

uh, so it’s robin now?”

and it’s die hard one day and conan the other and then steve snoring all the way through the terminator (“really, steven?”). and there’s barely anything else to do, december snow falling into january, curling around itself to hibernate its way through february’s cold. so it kind of becomes and every-four-days-or-less kind of thing, then every-two-days-or-less kind of thing and it’s always steve making the popcorn and billy lighting up the fireplace and

“god. i love that fucking smell” sitting on the carpet right by where billy’s fanning the embers back into flames, taking a deep, satisfied-sounding breath.

“uh?”

“the warmth and the pine and just―” pauses. looks at billy with those dark, reflective eyes he has. flames coming back to life inside his pupils. words sounding like they’re emptying all the air inside his lungs “it smells like i imagine a home would”

and billy’s caught. like a moth. he’s been caught since the very beginning.

“didn’t you have a fireplace? back at your parents’?”

steve looks at him as if he’s thinking of something, holding on something. and there’s this line they still don’t cross. it separates the ‘too personal’ the ‘too intimate’ from whatever they’ve been doing. but today billy just blinks and finds himself on the other side of it.

hey. a penny for your thoughts”

and steve breathes out this tiny-tiny smile like ‘you always come get me, uh?’ like he can feel it too, that step they’re both taking forward.

"yeah but―” steve says “didn’t smell like yours” four simple, nearly whispered words that feed the flames inside of billy, blow the ambers into that something they’ve been nourishing inside for so long.

so it’s jokes and coffee and food and games and movies and popcorn and the warmth coming from the fireplace. it’s billy not ever feeling alone anymore and steve snuggling closer to him under the blanket one wednesday night on what the news have labeled as ‘the coldest winter of the decade’ and saying

“bet it smell good too, that hick beard of yours” and not giving billy enough time to react, to say anything, to think before he’s burying his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in, in, sighting hot and soft and ticklish against that tender spot of skin and “god, i knew it”

and isn’t even that unexpected, billy thinks, the feeling that makes him trail his lips down steve’s cheek to find his, lick steve’s mouth open, eat up what’s left of that sigh. it feels too brief, compared with the time it’s been brewing inside of billy, and when it ends, steve looks at him with those soul-searching, open-hearted brown eyes, 

“you just―” he breathes in, breathes out. and he’s a flammable feeling, pumping in the direction of billy’s heart “kissed me

he’s a terrifying feeling. the only reason anything’s been making sense. the only reason this house smells like a home to billy. the only one that’s ever come back. the only one that’s ever truly stayed. 

and billy had to go and risk everything by falling in love.

“yeah, pretty boy” pauses. breathes. thinks: there’s no hiding anymore “so— a penny for your thoughts?” 

and that tiny-tiny smile, it blooms, the same way steve’s been blooming out of billy’s barren soul

“i’m thinking, hargrove, that i can’t wait to get my hands inside that hick jacket of yours”

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Answer

groovy having the same effect as regina george’s tank top is so funny hdjsks 

but YES i love this hc!!! it reminds me of one i read on here that billy might’ve been going through a depressive state after the move from california, explaining why his hair in the first episode looks kind of,, undone? compared to his hair throughout the rest of the season. (if anyone knows whose hc this is pls reply with their @ !!) 

i know he cringes when he remembers the “plenty of bitches in the sea” line omg his anxiety was probably so high during the shower scene. i wonder if steve would notice this when they start talking??

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Billy puts on this giant front of hypermasculinity to hide the fact that he’s an omega. He wears scent blockers and a blocking patch on his glands and does everything he can to appear to be an alpha.

When he meets the king omega at his new school, all Billy wants is to sink his teeth in.

At first, Billy’s jealous because how in the hell did Harrington manage to take over the school as an omega? Billy writes it off; Hawkins is a small town and none of the teenagers here know any better.

In the big pond that was LA, his hometown, Billy had been singled out for being an omega. He got picked on and jeered at and propositioned in the locker rooms more times than he’d like to admit. It’s why he started barking and biting back, giving every alpha and wanna-be beta as good as he got to prove he wouldn’t roll over for them, that no one could make him submit.

When he gets to Hawkins and Steve’s the fallen king, Billy hears the rude whispers about Steve’s omega status as the real root of his issues. Fell for some beta without a dominant bone in her body. Couldn’t make Steve submit to her because she didn’t even want that. And everyone knows that omegas always want to submit, right?

But that says everything. Because it tells Billy that Harrington won’t just roll over for anyone, not even Billy with all his bravado and confidence oozing false alpha charm, with his status as the new king.

One day, people start talking, and Billy’s pretty sure Tommy’s the one who starts the rumor that Billy’s looking to claim Steve Harrington as his omega.

And the thing is, the rumor isn’t exactly wrong. But Billy can’t claim him in the way they think he will.

He can’t knot Harrington up and fill him with his scent, half because he doesn’t have a knot and the other half because his scent is so distinctly omega. Billy’s been wearing scent blockers for so long he doesn’t even know what his scent would smell like on Steve’s skin. What their scents would smell like mingled together.

It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

They’re in the showers after gym class and Tommy is dropping lines about Wheeler and Byers and Steve doesn’t say a word, not even as Billy steps in once Tommy leaves. Billy calls Steve a pretty boy. Tells him there’s plenty of bitches in the sea, thinking about himself when he says so. Wants Steve’s eyes on him the way his are always following after Steve.

Billy turns his shower off and bites his lip and passes a hand over Steve’s shoulder.

Steve flinches, asks, “Are the rumors true?”

And Billy laughs, because they are and they’re not. “Nervous, Harrington?”

Steve just scoffs and turns his shower back on, rinses the suds out of his face and hair. Billy tries not to think about how gorgeous Steve looks, wet like that.

“I’m not into alphas,” Steve tells him, glowering across the shower. “So don’t get any ideas, Hargrove.” And Billy?

Billy smiles, wide and pleased. Leans against the tile and crosses his arms over his chest. He arches his eyebrow, flicks his tongue out along his lip.

“Who says I’m an alpha?” Billy asks in this deep, husky voice, and his smile only grows bigger when Steve looks at him stunned. Billy chuckles and flashes his tiny omega fangs at Steve. Licks his lips again when the shock turns into awed arousal Billy can smell even over the scent of sweat and soap and mildew that plagues the locker room. “Meet me at my car after school if you’re curious, Harrington.”

When Billy gets outside after school, half expecting Steve to have pussied out, he can’t help the smug smirk on his lips when he sees Steve leaning against the passenger side.

Billy struts up, twirling his eyes around his middle finger. “Gonna go for a ride with me, Harrington?”

So Steve raises an eyebrow, confident and fierce, and Billy feels the burn of arousal sizzling under his skin. As much as he wants to dig his teeth into Steve, he wants Steve’s teeth and fingers marking him right back.

“You gonna rock my world, Hargrove?” he tosses back.

And Billy unlocks the door, tugs it open, and smirks over the roof.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of when I set my mind to it,” he tells Steve in a quiet, focused tone. His blue eyes trace over the curve of Steve’s lips. “Get in the car.”

Steve gets in the car.

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they stared at each other like this from across the school parking lot and y’all still think they’re straight?

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