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#harringrove week
skyjynxart · 1 year
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#HarringroveWeek gave me the perfect excuse to finish this- I’m utterly in love with the idea of an AU where Billy is a selkie ( his mom was, too ). Billy has to tread a very careful line between bringing his coat with him to risky places like school, where it could so easily end up in someone else’s hands, versus leaving it at home, where it’s not uncommon for Neil to threaten to cut it up, ensuring Billy can never escape to the sea.
I like to think that somehow, it ends up in Steve’s hands and leads to happiness for both of them, but I haven’t really gotten that far with the ideas in my head.
I don’t know if I’ll have the time to make anything for the prompts, but I wanted to at least do something!
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wrecked-fuse · 1 year
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Harringrove Harvest Day 7 (aka 1) - serial killer
🔪🔪🔪 в вк не репостить🔪🔪🔪
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"Sleeping beauty"
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clownwix · 2 years
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@harringroveweek June 26th:
After School Detention
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theladycarpathia · 1 year
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burn
Max is late. Again. 
Billy flicks the lighter open and shut again and again, half considering giving into his impulse to burn everything down. He never thinks about it too seriously, but it's always there in the back of his mind. A flickering ember, just waiting. 
The only question is what will come first - getting out of this town, or when he finally gives into it.
But for today he clicks the lighter shut and stows it away in the glove-box. It’s just one of the shitty ones he buys at the gas station, of no actual value if Neil decides to search his car. He learned a long time ago that even the Camaro isn’t safe.
He thinks briefly about leaving her to skate home. He’s done it before, and it usually works well enough that she doesn’t pull the same stunt too often. He promised to keep out of her business and away from her friends. He’s followed through with that. But if he’s giving her a ride, he expects her to be on time. 
And if they’re back late, it’ll be his head on the chopping block. 
A familiar flash of red catches his eye and he grinds his teeth. Fucking finally.
She’s not alone, four boys trailing his stepsister like puppy dogs. He recognises them, half knows some of their names. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t even attempt to get out of the car, not since last November. He’s kept his promise. 
If Neil ever catches Max with them, that’s her own problem. 
One of the boys with dark hair says something that makes Max laugh. Another dramatically clutches his hands to his chest and staggers backwards and Max affectionately slaps him on the arm. Something about the easy, casual way they all walk in sync together makes bile rise in Billy’s throat. It seems that Billy’s the only one suffering in this town. For all of Max’s initial griping, she appears to actually like Hawkins.
He shouldn’t want her to be as miserable as he is. He just doesn’t want to be the only one drowning in it.
He doesn’t get why the boys are coming over to the high school until someone behind him leans on the horn. That’s when he spots the BMW.
That’s another promise he’s kept.
He’d woken in the Byers house, bloodied, sore and alone. The bitch had taken his car and when they’d returned, Billy had snatched the keys, grabbed Max, and driven off without a word. They were all dressed weirdly, with gloves, goggles and scarves wrapped around their faces. Max had strange dark smudges on her skin and her clothes reeked of smoke until laundry day. But she never once told him what they’d been doing and Billy decided that he didn’t want to know. Whatever fucked up shit she was involved in, he just didn’t care anymore. It was entirely up to her to explain to Neil and Susan, because he wasn’t about to cover for her.
But she’d told them something, and Neil hadn’t come into Billy’s room looking for an apology so Billy had left it. He’d cleaned the blood from his face and his knuckles, and he hasn’t looked too closely at what happened at the Byers’ since then.
Nor has he spoken to Harrington. He’d looked at the bruises on his face with some pleasure, and what the hell does it say about him that he wants to ruin something that pretty? Much to his annoyance, it had only made it worse: the cut on Steve’s bottom lip, the dark marks across his cheekbones.
The wounds eventually faded but Billy’s desire to make a mess of Steve did not.
Harrington climbs out of the front seat, clad in that same clingy green sweater that he’d worn to school today. It’s fucking insane that the former king of Hawkins High dresses like some golf-playing middle aged parent. Polo shirts, jumpers, khakis…every single item of Steve’s clothing makes Billy want to rip every single stitch.
Billy’s not been spotted. He slinks down in his seat, eyes focused on the rear-view mirror at Steve’s long body as he shouts for the kids to move their asses. Max waves at Steve, who returns the gesture. The boys shout their goodbyes to Max, scurrying across the concrete to their waiting babysitter. Billy doesn’t miss the expression on Max’s face as she watches them go.
Max climbs in and slams the door, even though he’s told her a thousand times not to. He watches her dump her bag at her feet, skateboard pulled onto her lap.
“You’re late,” he says, even though they could have peeled out of the parking lot by now. With Neil waiting, he probably should have. He’s still watching the rear-view mirror, watching Harrington in a sea of kids. 
“I forgot about the time,” she snaps back, but she’s picking at one of the stickers on her board. 
“Sure,” he drawls. The kids are piling into the BMW, but Steve is still standing, poking around in the trunk. One of the boys’ backpacks is wedged in, preventing the trunk from closing.
“We were talking and I just forgot,” she says defensively. “The others didn’t have to meet Steve until later and I just forgot.”
“You didn’t want to go with them?” Billy asks. She shrugs.
“They’re just going to play that stupid game,” she mutters, but she’s watching the rear-view mirror too. “El’s not even going to be there so it’s not like I’d have anything to do.”
It hurts a little sometimes, how alike they are. Maybe in another life, it would have made them good siblings.
But Neil made sure that was never an option. 
“We can’t be late,” Billy reminds her and her mouth twists. She’s starting to learn now and that frightens him. Neil’s rules are made to be obeyed and she’s no longer exempt. 
“I know, that’s what I said!” she bites out. There’s a curtain of red hair half-hiding her face. “Steve’s taking them all. There’s no space for me anyway.”
In the mirror, Steve stops and straightens up. He slams the trunk shut and looks around the nearly empty lot, tugging out a pair of sunglasses. Billy watches the light glint off the glass as Steve slides them onto his nose. There’s something so elegant about the easy way that he does it. King Steve never quite faded away, even after the fall from power. For some people it’s just built in: the delicate curve of his throat, the flick of a tongue across a bottom lip, the confidence in every movement.
“Good old Steve,” Billy says bitterly and Max shoots him a look.
“Shouldn’t we be going?” she says pointedly and Billy takes one last look at Harrington climbing into the front seat of the BMW. 
“We’re going,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. He grabs his own sunglasses from his pocket and then shifts into reverse. Billy swings the car around so he beats King Steve to the punch, effectively blocking the BMW in. 
“You’re being an ass,” Max says, her voice dangerously low. Billy gives her a grin, and takes his sweet time shifting into gear. He knows what lines he can cross. 
He catches sight of a few middle fingers as they pull off, and the move does little to stifle the itch under his skin. Nothing ever does these days.
Max stares out of the window as they pull away, dark clouds swirling around her bright little head. Billy dares one last look in the rear-view, watching the BMW reverse, allowing him one last look at Steve.
All he ever does is want to burn pretty things down.
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lorifragolina · 2 months
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Harringrove lovefest day 2
Second day of @harringrovelovefest!
I particularly loved writing this one, Billy in California with Argyle is one of my favourites headcanon!
This is for 9th February prompts "What if...?".
What if... they meet in San Diego instead of Hawkins?
I saw the stunning art of @akioukun (of course I asked their permission) when I was writing the fic and wew! It was exactly the idea I had in mind about... well, the atmosphere they are creating there.
And the plants? Are you ever seen plants so perfect?
What if..? A cabin by the sea
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Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Harringrove
TW: mention of weed, alcohol
WC: 4836
Read it on Ao3
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ihni · 2 years
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For Harringrove Week day one: "only one bed".
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passivenovember · 1 year
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Goldie (harringrove week day two: Carol Perkins’ curling iron)
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The first time Carol and Billy met she spit a wad of gum in his hair. 
It had been hilarious. Hot, even, when Billy dug his fingers through Steve’s diet coke and pulled away with two ice cubes, working the gooey lump from his pretty blonde curls like this wasn’t his first rodeo. 
With a devilish, impressed smirk he declared, “I like that girl,” 
Steve tried not to stare at Billy’s fingers as they fiddled with the strawberry gum. “She’s a piranha.”
“We’re gonna fuck,” Billy said, plain and simple, and popped Carol’s gum into his mouth with a pleased hum.
Tommy H., was panicked about the whole thing, especially when all Carol could talk about after that first catfight was Billy Hargrove. Malibu Barbie. The Surfer Boy, Firefly from Hell.
She always said it with a flush to her cheeks. A snap of her gum, like if she chewed hard enough she could taste him on each new stick.
Steve had never seen a friendship birthed from that kind of rivalry, except maybe their own, but Billy seemed to have that kind of affect on people. Especially girls.
It drove him crazy. 
The way Billy never had to try to get everyone’s eyes on him, raking over him desperate to map every curve and valley that swam through their dirtiest dreams. And Steve had been that way once, too, but.
Billy was different. 
Effortlessly alluring and beautiful.
Steve did backflips to try and get his attention. To keep that fiery blue on him, and Carol was the first to notice. 
“He’s a bitch,” She told Steve one night, last month, after he drank a little too much trying to beat Billy’s keg stand and then drank a little more to forget the memory of Billy kissing Heather Duke.
Carol held Steve’s hair for him, that night, muttering, “He’s a slutty little fucking shitty fucker bitch.”
“He looks like Goldilocks,” Steve had whined, ”He’s so beautiful, I love him,” and everything went black. 
Carol doesn’t feel the way she used to about Malibu Barbie. They’re friends, now, which makes things a hell of a lot more difficult for Steve. And, obviously, it’s about him. Everything’s about him.
Things come back around. 
Steve feels better than he did last year. More in control. It’s Hawkin’s High’s annual Who’s Who Halloween bash, and even Keith made the cut this year, dressed at C-3P0, which is a testament how dire the situation is now that Steve’s graduated, but it’s not a coincidence.
None of it is a coincidence. 
The Camaro rolls to a thundering stop out front and Billy steps out in a fucking Goldilocks costume, and--
Steve sucks a glob of flat beer up his windpipe and down his nose, because Carol’s laughing. 
Steve glares at her, snatching the napkin she offers with her lips coiled like a stale licorice whip. “What did you say to him?” He snarls.
Billy’s surrounded by girls. And guys. Just a whole crowd of drunk, horny country bumpkins who can’t think with his thighs encased in white nylon like that, and.
“Did you tell him?” Steve demands.
“Tell him what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,”
“I dunno what you mean, Stevie,” Carol bats her eyelashes at him, witch hat falling to the side. She snaps a piece of gum Steve doesn’t remember her chewing.
The sea of assholes part, and Billy spots them, and. “Harrington!” He calls, happy and loose.
Steve grips the witch bitch next to him, “He’s wearing lip gloss,”
“I helped.”
“Perks, he’s wearing mascara--”
“He’s Goldilocks,” Carol tells him smugly. She falls quiet, stepping aside to let Steve look his fill “Isn’t he a Betty?” She asks, and.
And. 
Steve’s never been so hard in his life. He doesn’t register the people around Billy, or the way everyone’s tugging on his curls and watching his ass as he walks toward the porch, because it doesn’t matter.
Billy’s a vision. 
Everything Steve never knew he desired, rolled into one funny, smart, beautiful package.
Billy laughs, giving Lonnie Clark a high five and the cup of his bodice straining deliciously against his chest. He fiddles with his headband when Heather Duke tries to play keep-away. Says goodbye to his Fanclub as he tries to get closer. Billy looks at Steve with worried, impatient eyes. Waves, with a little, “Gimmie a sec, I wanna talk to Steve,” to the girl who won’t step off, and that’s it. 
A line of the hottest people in Hawkins could be on their knees, mouths open, waiting to suck Billy’s dick right now and Steve wouldn’t be jealous.
Because Billy wants to see him. 
He’s making a beeline for the front porch, eyes scanning Steve from head to toe. His hips sway in that little yellow skirt, and despite the nylon Steve can see something moving. 
Something straining, a little.
“Holy hell,” Steve rasps. He can’t breathe. His lungs don’t work, his throat is swollen shut. 
“See something you like, Hair Bear?” Carol scrapes his cheek with her nails and Steve finishes his drink, tossing the cup onto the lawn to grab Carol Perkins and tickle the shit out of her.
Carol swats at him, giggling all bright and panicked. “I can feel your hard on, you freak!”
“Carol,” Steve hisses, and then Billy’s there. 
“Hey, hey, leave my girl alone!” He chuckles, and. Pressing close to get his arms around Perkins, Billy manhandles their very own Evil Cheerleader to the side her so Steve can’t finish what he started.
Without 90 pounds of meddling redhead in the way, Billy stares at him. His eyes burn from the furry neckline of Steve’s costume, all the way down to his sneakers and back again.
Billy smirks, tongue wagging between his cherry red lips. “What the fuck are you supposed to be, Harrington?”
“Carol picked it out,” Steve puffs his chest, suddenly defensive, when Billy frowns at him. “I’m a teddy bear.”
“Bullshit,” Carol howls, smoking a joint someone handed her on their way into the house. “He’s mama bear!”
Billy’s eyes widen. He looks down at himself, cataloguing the vee of his hips, before scowling. “Perkins, you little shithole.”
“What’d I do?”
“Yeah, Hargrove, what’d she do?” Steve deadpans, only a little guilty for liking the angry pink flush that covers Billy’s tits.
It’s not very often the guy gets upset, not where anyone can see. 
Billy’s eyes flash for a moment and then it’s gone, replaced with sharp humor as he slings an arm around Carol’s shoulders. “Nothing, teapot,” He kisses her forehead, never once taking his eyes off Steve. “You just wanted Mama and Daddy to get along, right?”
“Right,” Carol whimpers pathetically, smirking up at Steve from the protective pit of Billy’s arm. 
Billy’s tongue wags. Steve wants to suck it. Bite it off, maybe, “Don’t worry, Perks, Mommy and Daddy are just fine.” Billy lightly pats her ass, with a little, “Ain’t that right, mommy?”
And it’s just unfortunate.
Absolutely heinous that Steve’s dick, graciously hidden by the fur suit Carol had to wrestle him into, fills out. 
It chubs. Throbs. Weeps, a little, When Billy takes the joint that’s handed to him and says, “Come find me later, Mommy.” Before disappearing through the front door.
--
Steve does a couple of keg stands. Takes a shot off Veronica Lee. Smokes a blunt with Keith in the backyard and loses track of Goldilocks, somewhere between wishing he could pull Billy upstairs now and forgetting that he’s supposed to.
Steve’s playing with Carol’s cat when someone pats his shoulder. 
“’Mm busy,” Steve tells them, giggling when the cat nibbles softly at his index finger. “If you wanna play with Arugula, you better hop the fuck in line and then die in line waiting because I’m playing with Arugula, we’re best friends and she loves me and I’m not moving, you fucker--”
The hand on his shoulder starts rubbing, fingers toying with the curls at the base of Steve’s neck. 
He swallows, resolute. “She’s so soft, she’s like a cloud of marshmallows and cotton and cotton landy--”
“Candy, pretty boy.” 
Steve cranes his head, laughing when it lands on Billy’s shoulder and he’s right there, pressed tight against him, watching with plush, smiling lips as Steve pets Arugula. 
“Billy!” Steve shouts. “I’ve been missing you so much.”
Billy leans away a little, and then comes back again, grinning down at the head on his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, we were supposed to go someplace, right?”
Billy combs the hair off Steve’s forehead. “Yeah, upstairs. I’ve been looking all over for you, where have you been?”
“Here,” Steve says, gasping when Arugula climbs into his lap. She’s an angel. She’s Steve’s best friend. He cries out, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Please don’t make me go. I don’t wanna go. You can’t make me, you’re gonna have to kill me.”
“Jesus Christ, how much have you had?”
“Enough to forget that I’m allergic to cats.”
Billy freezes. “How allergic,” He demands.
When Steve doesn’t say anything, Billy crawls to the front. “Steve--” He begins heavily, and Steve clutches Arugula to his chest, worried that Billy’s going to try and snatch her away.
Billy frowns, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with something secret, not quite mixed in so it’s grainy and raw.
He climbs to his feet, hand outstretched for Steve to take. When he doesn’t, Billy grins. “C’mon, pretty boy,”
Steve shakes his head. “I wanna stay here with Arugula.”
“You can come back to Arugula, you just have to take some allergy medicine so you don’t, fucking, die or something.”
Steve shakes his head, and the cat hops out of his arms. 
He glances around, shocked. 
Billy’s smiling. “See, baby, she wants to go shit in her box.”
That makes sense. Steve nods, like, “I think I might need to shit in my own box, soon.”
Billy laughs. Steve wants to catch it in his hands, keep it in a jar next to his bed. “I can take you to the bathroom,” Billy says, holding out his hand. “Do you trust me?”
Steve considers it and takes Billy’s hand, squawking out a laugh when he goes easy like an untethered air balloon, knocking into Billy’s chest.
“Woah, I gotcha,” Billy says gently, and Steve loves him. 
“I love you,” Steve says. When Billy’s cheeks get all pink, Steve touches them, squishes them between two fingers. “I love you so much, you’re so pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“You hair is curlier than usual,” Steve says, confused. “How?”
Billy shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “Carol helped me curl it.”
Steve wraps one around his finger and watches it bounce free. “Pretty,” He says, smiling at Billy’s open, confused mouth. “I’m gonna throw up,” He declares.
--
Steve rinses his mouth in the sink and stares at Carol’s curling iron, wrapped and corded in its little basket. 
He’s floating. Billy’s hand is between his shoulder blades rubbing soft, smooth circles, and.
Steve doesn’t remember how he got here. 
Billy’s telling him a story about California because Steve retched for so long his stomach liner is probably at the water plant, now, but his head feels more clear. 
He wipes his mouth. Watches Billy’s in the mirror. Knows, with ringing clarity, what he wants. Has always wanted. Billy laughs at something and Steve’s heart cracks open.
“You’re so different than I thought you’d be,” Steve says says.
Billy stops cold in his tracks. 
Steve. Can’t feel his lips. His face. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Billy,” He says, “You’re so good. You’re perfect.”
Billy snorts, cheeks bright red. “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah.” Steve admits. “Can I kiss you.”
Billy stares at him. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Finally, after a million years, he blinks. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk, Steve.”
Steve tuns, hips pressed tightly against the marble sink. “Why not?”
“Because,” Billy starts. He fiddles with the hem of his skirt, refusing to look up. To face it. “Because I’m dressed like Goldilocks. Because you’re wired and it wouldn’t be right. It’d be me, taking advantage of someone I love, and you might regret it.”
Steve frowns. “I won’t.”
“But you might,” Billy tells the linoleum. “And when I kiss you for the first time I want it to be because we couldn’t stop it. Because it was killing us not to. Because we want it so bad the sun might light us on fire.”
Steve takes one step forward. Then another, and another still until Billy’s looking at him, his jaw nestled in Steve’s palm.
He holds steady. Keeps those eyes on him. 
“You sleeping over tonight?” Steve asks, knowing Carol had asked them both.
Billy nods. Wets his lips. 
“Tomorrow,” Steve tells him. 
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memes-saved-me · 2 years
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Have some Ghost Adventures but its Harringrove for Harringrove Week Day 5
Link to an old ghost hunters moodboard
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cursedmarshmallow · 2 years
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I know I didn't stick to the theme but here's a little comic for Harringrove week! Always be ready for your dastardly plans to backfire, Stevie boy!
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lymricks · 2 years
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In the morning, sometimes, Billy will roll over and count each dot on Steve's skin while he sleeps. He's never been able to shake years of waking up first to leave before he had to ask permission or to make sure that in the morning, no one would catch him by surprise. Harrington sleeps late, unable to shake--apparently--years of late night parties, back when he was the hottest shit Hawkins High had to offer. Sometimes, Billy will tease him about that, but more often, he will count each freckle and dot on Steve's skin and let him sleep, and sleep, and sleep. He remembers when they were younger and Steve's nightmares kept them both awake. He loves this quiet for them both.
There had been a time when if you had asked Billy Hargrove to define a miracle, he would have laughed in your face, but later, alone in bed and maybe on a very early morning like this one, he might have thought to himself--just for a second, a heartbeat, not even--about peace.
Peace is what he has with Steve Harrington in this stupid little apartment that is theirs, where the light comes in through the windows and makes patches on the floor that their cat likes to lie in, stretched out with her belly exposed, comfortable and safe. Safe, too, might have been a miracle that Billy Hargrove named, even before the shit during that terrible July. Even before he was dragged into that darkness, he'd never really felt safe.
Now he wakes up in a home with patches of sunlight and walks on quiet feet into the kitchen, so he does not disturb his cat or Steve Harrington, to make coffee before Steve can ask about it. Now, he might smoke a cigarette leaning out their kitchen window and watch the neighborhood wake up. Now he might, if he wanted, crawl back into bed and use his lips and tongue and breath to count the marks on Steve's skin, and Steve might do the same, touch the scars Billy doesn't hide from him anymore and say I love you in that quiet, nervous way he does.
This is what a life looks like. If someone were to paint it, to describe it to him, Billy might once have said it was boring, but he was younger, then, and thought a life looked like loud music and hitting first and he'd thought it would end early. The fireworks had been a surprise--he hadn't expected those when he had imagined his death, but now when he thinks about July, he can sometimes make a joke like that, and he has learned what it means to find peace on the days when thinking about July makes him want to shake apart. It's taken a long time, but he can.
This, he thinks, a cat winding around his legs in the early morning sun, Steve in their bed still snoring, this is a life, and if he's honest, there's a version of himself that hadn't thought he'd even want one, but, shit. More often than sometimes, Billy will look around and it surprises him less and less that he feels lucky to be alive.
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wrecked-fuse · 1 year
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Wanna Slice? Then take it yourself
For Harringrove Week day 6
Prompt — Can of Pringles
🔪🔪🔪 в вк не репостить🔪🔪🔪  
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kiraixi · 1 year
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Thursday 30th March ✩  “Roleplaying” (Flip-Reverse) @harringrove-flip-reverse-it
“Billy?”
No reply.
He could’ve sworn he heard giggling.
Probably just next door.
Steve walks over to the kitchen retrieving his coffee. When he arrived home Billy was fast asleep, a usual habit right after class. Steve’s been busying himself with light cleaning and leftover classwork.
He grumbles at cigarette butts littering the coffee table, it’s a habit his boyfriend’s been trying to kick for a while but sometimes he relapses. 
He brushes them into the trash and moves towards the fireplace, righting any lopsided decor. There are photo’s dating all the way back to 10th grade when they first met, picking one up he wipes it fondly.
It’s been six years of love, conflict and forgiveness.
 Steve bites his lip, he’s been mulling over the decision of getting down on one knee, even has the ring picked! It’s been broached as abstract over the dinner table but when Steve gets into the details he tends to clam up. It's been real hard navigating the landmine of Billy Hargrove’s feelings. 
His boyfriend is a free spirit, a wild bird and he’d never want to make Billy feel as though he’s tie-ing down him down.
There’s movement in the bedroom again, now Billy’s laughter is loud and clear. Steve can hear words being said so he puts his ear against the door trying to decipher. 
​​'Oh no, Billy what are you doing?? WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
A pause, 
'Steve not you too! can you please pick her up at least?"
The blonde normally talks to himself when playing games, it’s a cute quirk he’s always had. Steve especially loves to hear his stream of thoughts when they play horror games together, never ceases to crack him up.
He turns the handle walking in. Billy is faced away playing on that crappy  school provided Chromebook. Strange.. he normally uses the PC in the living room for personal things 
"Babe?"
His boyfriend spins in the chair, slamming the laptop shut. The fan working overtime, an awkward ambience.
"oh, hey Steve."
"What are you playing?"
He spins around a few times “Nothing…”
Steve walks up to him, stilling Billy's chair. "Can I see?" He uses those irresistible puppy eyes. "Please?"
"Fine... don’t laugh"
He opens the laptop showcasing a household on a new game he’s been obsessing over, Steve still can’t really understand the allure. It also has a funky name, Simps? Sism?
Billy shyly gives a tour of a family consisting of Steve and him, happily married with three kids. Lillian, Sammy and Cecilia.
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Do I not get a say on our children's names?”
Billy looks away, blushing. "I thought you wouldn't be interested.."
Steve laughs, kissing his cheek, “Is this us in the future?"
His face tints red. "Maybe"
Steve smiles into the affection. He knows what he's got planned for their next date.
I don’t know if sims counts as a role playing game but to it does to me >:) , I’m gonna queue this one since it’s my birthday!! and I’m gonna be out, love coming back home to the plethora of Billy content <3
Hope you guys enjoy this short sweet one!
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callieb · 1 year
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It's Billy's Birthday Bonanza! 🎂
March 23rd: Mom Returns
Welcome to California
Billy’s first boyfriend is a lanky cokehead with a nose piercing called Nick, and he gives good head and smokes good weed and after they’ve had sex he ruffles Billy’s hair and says: “Tell me about your life.”
“Fuck that,” Billy says.
Nick laughs. “I’m serious,” he says. “You’re not from Indiana, right? Where were you born?”
Billy frowns sluggishly at him. There are hickeys on his chest, and he’s feeling warm and pleasantly sore. “San Diego,” he says reluctantly.
“Cali!” Nick exclaims, with far too much energy for someone who was balls-deep in Billy’s ass less than fifteen minutes ago. “Awesome! Did you surf? Are the sequoias seriously as tall as they look in the National Geographic? You ever been to Hollywood?”
“Jesus Christ,” Billy mutters.
Read the rest on AO3. Updates will be posted every Monday!
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valyriaas · 2 years
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Steve’s always wanted kids. He knew that.
No, that’s not what shocks him. What shocks him is he realises he wants them with Billy.
And Steve, as is the case with most things, realises it at the worst, most inopportune situation ever.
Like, right after coming inside of Billy kind of situation.
Written for Harringrove Week!
Prompts: Breeding Kink & Car Sex
Read here.
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theladycarpathia · 1 year
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“I don’t really think this is magic,” Steve gasps weakly. 
Billy licks his lips, a slow drag over his plush cupid’s bow. His chin is red from kissing, lips slick with saliva. Billy has such a pretty mouth that it should be illegal. Steve’s been fixated on it - the curve of it, the pink from the cold, that full bottom lip. Kissing that mouth has been heaven. Watching Billy do sinful things with it has stolen Steve’s soul right from his body.
“How would you know?” he asks, reminding Steve that before Billy arrived in Hawkins only four months ago that Steve had no idea of magic, or spells, or witches. Billy was born a witch on his mother’s side, enough magic running in his veins to cast curses, summon rain or have flowers grow right up out of the ground. Steve never would have had any idea of it, would have kept on living his mundane life, had he not seen Billy that night at the Halloween party. Shortly after that, he and Nancy had imploded. A relationship doesn’t work when both parties want other people.
It had taken weeks. Billy wasn’t quick to trust - not as a gay witch in a small conservative town - and especially with a father that despises everything that you are. To everyone else Billy dates around, a different girl after every basketball game. He’s the jock, the asshole, just the same popular guy you get in every high school.
But in the quiet of Steve’s bedroom, when they lie together on Steve’s bed and Billy casts glittering lights that dance on the ceiling, Steve can see who Billy really is. Something wild and magical, someone beautiful who wants to grow vines around his fingers and makes it snow in Steve’s bathroom while they lounge in a steaming tub. 
“I just don’t…you’ve never cast magic like this before!” Steve sputters. Because Billy is hovering over his bare crotch, wearing that smile and looking like sin. Even with Steve’s limited knowledge of magic, this feels more like foreplay.
“I've never needed to cast magic like this before,” Billy corrects, tracing a single finger over the delicate skin by Steve’s hip bones. The soft pad of a finger, followed by the sharpness of a long fingernail, weaving patterns into Steve’s skin makes his cock twitch. 
“Right,” Steve pants, feeling vulnerable and desperate and drowning in love all at once. He’s completely naked on his bed, while Billy hovers over his dick, closely enough that he can feel Billy’s warm breath on his skin. They’ve never done this before, not like this. The few short weeks that they’ve been officially dating have been entirely brief, frantic hand-jobs underneath their clothes, making out that has ended with them coming in their jeans. Steve’s never stripped off for Billy before and the process has left him feeling exposed and more turned on than he’d ever admit.
But he trusts Billy. He adores Billy. And he wants more than anything to have Billy know that, truly know that so he never doubts it. He needs Billy to know. 
Billy’s mom left years ago, leaving her small son with an abusive father and growing powers, all of his magic inherited from her. There’s no magic in Neil Hargrove but plenty in his son. That combined with her bright blue eyes, her golden curls, is enough to ensure that Neil hates just about everything Billy is.
“And this will make a bond between us, right?” Steve asks, because he’s still fuzzy on the details. He doesn’t really get how magic works, even when Billy tries to explain it to him. And tries, because magic is mostly instinct to Billy and the process doesn’t really translate into words. Billy had turned up this evening, with another dark bruise on his cheek, eyes glittering with fury and tears, and had crumpled into Steve’s arms the minute he’d crossed the doorway. Fuck knows what Neil had done it for, Billy hadn’t wanted to talk about it. But Steve had said anything and everything to the man curled up in his arms, just wanting Billy to know that he was loved.
It had worked, somehow. Billy wanted to do a spell, something that bound them together.
And now they are here.
“Right,” Billy agrees, and licks a stripe down Steve’s belly. The sound that Steve makes is something feral, a high wail that is pulled from his lungs. He wants Billy so badly that he’s red and leaking, and the mere idea of Billy’s delicious mouth on him has him half ready to come. 
“It’s something witches used to use for their familiars,” Billy continues, as though Steve isn’t spread out and dripping obscenely right in front of him. “So they always knew where they were and what they were feeling.”
“You’ll always know what I’m feeling?” Steve asks, trying to wrap his mind around it. It half terrifies him, sure that Billy won’t want anything in his heart.
“Not always,” Billy amends. “Just the really strong ones. Like pain or joy or anger. That shit, you know? And you’ll always be able to find me.” This last part is said quietly, hesitantly, like he’s not sure that’s something Steve even wants. Steve reaches down to wind his fingers with Billy’s.
“And bodily fluids are required?” Steve asks, because this is the part he’s skeptical of. But Billy gives him a wicked flash of teeth.
“Hey, sex magic is powerful shit, you know, Harrington,” he purrs, eyes turning dark. “That’s why we haven’t fucked yet, as much as I want to.”
“Oh?” Steve asks, heat climbing up his body. He’s clinging to Billy’s fingers like an anchor.
“That’s important, powerful magic. Not to be fucked around with,” Billy explains, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s. “Do something like that without thinking it through and you’ll lose control of it. Magic runs on emotion - gotta have the right fuel behind it - so I have to be prepared for the first time we do it or I’ll blow out every street light in the neighborhood or turn you into a frog or something.”
“That would be the weirdest fucking fairy-tale I’ve ever heard,” Steve quips and Billy snorts.
“I’m definitely not fucking you to turn you back,” he says bluntly. “So we’re doing this first, so I can get a taste of you. Get used to how you feel…how you make me feel.” Steve flushes and then remembers something. He props himself up on his elbows to look at Billy in the faint moonlight. 
“But you’ve had sex before,” Steve says, hoping he’s not about to completely kill the mood. Bringing up other guys this close to a blowjob and sex magic is a risky idea. “You slept with Tripp Heskin at the camp out by the lake.” And Steve’s gut had been squirming with jealousy, staring into the bright fire and knowing that at that moment Billy was being licked open, spread out on someone else’s fingers, moaning on fucking Tripp’s dick. Tripp’s an asshole.
“Yeah but that’s not the same,” Billy says hurriedly, brow furrowed with anxiety. “Fucking like that doesn’t matter. It only counts when I…with the person I…” He stops, the words going unsaid, but it doesn’t matter. Steve stares at Billy’s red face, trying to let it sink in. Billy loves him. 
“Oh,” Steve says, overwhelmed, and tugs Billy up so that they can kiss. Billy digs his fingers into Steve’s hips for balance, licking into Steve’s mouth like he’s starving. His belly rubs against Steve’s dick, the soft cotton of his t-shirt setting Steve’s skin on fire. Steve whimpers into Billy’s mouth, almost crying with the stimulation. Billy bites down on his bottom lip and shushes him, gently stroking Steve’s hips with his fingers.
“Not yet, not yet,” Billy whispers gently, peppering kisses against Steve’s jaw. “Save it all for me, yeah?” Steve nods weakly, tears gathering against his lashes. He chokes down another breath as Billy slides back down his body, clearly deciding that it’s time. Whatever conditions he’d been waiting for have been met.
When Billy licks up Steve’s dick, a long, slow drag up Steve’s overheated skin, he stops to wind his tongue around the tip, gathering the taste of Steve on his tongue. He sits back, face rapturous like Steve’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, savoring every salty drop. 
“Fuck,” Steve gasps. He’s not going to last, not when Billy makes faces like that from sucking on his dick. 
“Here we go, baby,” Billy whispers and lowers his head.
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