#goes with harringrove too

[plistommy]

Letting all the new followers know too that I only post Bottom!Steve 💕

[discodeviant]

honestly though so so so much of my fandom experience in the last couple of years has been fucking horrific, I forgot what it was like to find real joy in characters that comes from within myself and not anybody else. I think that's why harringrove is so timeless and personal for me because my love for them has always just been mine. not skewed by or played up for anyone I was trying to please, not reluctant or embarrassed, I've never doubted or had to ask myself why. the answer is because. that's it. I don't need anything else. I don't care what anyone else thinks. they make me happy and no one's taken that away from me, nor will anybody ever take that away from me because it wasn't anybody else who put it there in the first place. all me, baby.

[hickory-smoked-ass]

Why Don’t You Every Call Me Honey? Pt. 1

Hey! I love writing on my own, but never posted any of my own work, so I decided to post a small snippet of something i’m working on rn to get some feedback and to see if people like it! So hopefully, enjoy!

AU where Billy lived with his mom until Neil came back from Vietnam (1975). Also Billy only threatened Steve at the Byers, didn’t actually beat him up here. Also the tranq Max injected Billy fucked up his brain so now he reverted back to 6 year old happy Billy, before Neil came back. *Because fanfic magic*

‘Ocean-eyes, Sunshine, Sweet-baby’ Mary never called Billy by his name. A sugar-coated nickname was always on her lips, making Billy giggle sweetly in a way only children can. Billy thought his name was sunshine until his first day of Kindergarten, where Ms. Friday harshly corrected him. ‘Your name is William, boy’.

He never really liked the name; William was too pretentious, too stuck-up for Billy, he much preferred the cherished and loved names his Mother provided. It wasn’t until Neil returned that he found himself missing these names. William or Boy were his new names, spat out with such venom, Billy sometimes wondered if they hurt on the way out. 

As Billy got older, grew meaner, and colder, he stopped listening out for those sugar-coated nicknames. Any hope that his mom would come back was beat out of him years ago, by his Father’s fists and sneer. ‘You really think that bitch would come back for you? Some faggot?’ 

Billy moaned, beginning to curl up on the paper laden floor, tugging at his blonde curls. “Max? What the hell is he doing?” Dustin whispered. “I-I don’t know- let’s just go okay? He’ll be fine”. Stepping over Billy’s shaking form, she storms out of the house. The rest of the party quickly followed suit, save for Steve, who continued to stare at the boy. 

Crouching down, Steve reached out towards Billy’s shaking shoulder. “Hargrove? Man? You good- well you were tranquilized- you can’t be great but y’know-” Steve cut himself off, watching as Billy’s eyes rolled back into his head and he began to seize. “Shit! Fuck- okay, uh- where’s the phone- it’s alright Hargrove! I’m- fuck- i’m calling an ambulance!” Steve yelled, tripping his way to the phone. 

Billy let out a high pitched groan as his body trembled, spit beginning to foam at the corners of his lips. 

“Fuck! Hi- uh I’m with someone here who got injected with a- uh tranquilizer? Shit- he’s having a seizure or something- I need help i’m at 149 Coastline Road- fuck!” Steve cursed as one of Billy’s arms slammed into a table leg, “I don’t know what to do man- I gotta- I gotta go- shit!”. Steve slammed the phone back into the receiver, quickly stumbling over to Billy’s side. 

“H-hey man, it’s gonna be alright- okay? I called help- they’re, uh, they’re gonna be here soon, okay? You’ll be fine…you’ll be fine..” Steve continued to chant to himself, gripping Billy’s convulsing, and quickly bruising, arm. 

Steve’s head shot up as sirens began to approach, quickly getting up to flag down the ambulance.

[thissortofsorcery]

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race!! It's been so much fun so far, and I'm so excited to share my piece!

Thank you so much to @kuroubojin for passing the baton to me 💕

--

Billy thought that finally getting King Steve into bed would be different. 

Well, he didn’t think he’d actually get King Steve into bed, in the first place. But as much as Billy hates to admit it, now that he has, he’s feeling a little out of his depth.

In the many, many times he thought about what sex with Harrington would be like, he’d pictured something a little more… Wild. He thought fucking Harrington would be like a fight, biting and clawing and pushing to see who’s gonna come out on top. He thought he’d have to wrestle King Steve down and show him who the real king was, and it would be rough and hot and loud. Impersonal, though. Billy likes to get off fast and easy, after all. There’s no reason to draw it out or to linger after. 

But. But. 

Harrington caught him off guard. Billy never expected the teasing and the pigtail-pulling to pay off in the first place. He didn’t think he’d actually see Harrington’s fire turned on him, giving as good as he got, every barb out of Billy’s mouth being met with burning words and an upturned nose. It only egged Billy on more. 

It came to a point where Billy couldn’t put his eyes on Harrington without his whole body responding, heart thrumming and veins singing with adrenaline, palms sweaty at the sight of an answering smirk. 

And now, well. 

Running into each other at the quarry turned into a shared case of beer and a cigarette, turned into this. 

Billy pinned down on the backseat of Harrington’s damn BMW, leather seats sticking to his sweaty back. Billy doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing; all he knows is that he lost his shirt somewhere in the middle, and his jeans are open and rucked down to his hips. Harrington’s skin is hot, feverish under Billy’s fingertips, soft skin covering firm, defined muscles that roll with every movement of Harrington’s hips. 

Billy’s never cared much about kissing, but he can’t get enough of Harrington’s mouth. It’s obvious that he likes it, having latched onto Billy’s lips however long ago and not relented since. Billy’s not complaining. Harrington finds places in Billy’s mouth that he never thought could feel this good, takes over every one of his senses easy as breathing. He’s a tall wave bowling Billy over, taking up all the space in his head and chest and lungs, and it’s all he can do to hold on. 

There’s no fighting while they fuck, no raucous and derisive laughter, taking potshots at each other like they have something to lose. 

It’s good. 

Billy was sure it would be, but… It’s like nothing he’s felt before. Harrington is everywhere; the scent of his hair products in Billy’s lungs, the taste of his sweat on Billy’s tongue, his body a heavy weight on top of Billy’s. His name on Billy’s lips, a litany of Steve, Steve, Steve that Billy barely registers is coming from him. 

Harrington’s mouth never leaves his skin, not for a second, the maddening slide of his tongue leaving a line of fire wherever it goes. Harrington’s breath is hot on his neck. 

Billy can’t figure out why it feels so overwhelming, why this feels so different from anyone else he’s fucked before. After a while, he stops trying to. 

By the end, Billy doesn’t know which way is up, if it’s been minutes or hours. He can barely hear himself breathe over the thundering of his pulse in his ears. He forgets that he’s not supposed to drag this out, that he’s not supposed to linger, too busy riding the aftershocks of the pleasure Harrington brought out on his body. 

He’s struck dumb. Or fucked stupid, more like. 

This is nothing like he thought it was going to go. It was supposed to be about getting off, but Harrington turned it around on him. 

The backseat is cramped, and Billy’s skin is uncomfortably sticky against the warm leather, but his body sings when Harrington rearranges them so Billy’s lying on top, on his stomach, and with his nose tucked into Harrington’s neck. 

“C’mere,” is all Harrington says. Then he drapes his dumb members only jacket over Billy’s back. “I know how cold you get.”

Billy thinks he might be able to fall asleep like this. He’s not even itching for a cigarette. 

“You good?” Harrington says, and Billy grins against his chest. Harrington’s chest hair tickles his lips. 

“You gotta ask?” Billy laughs, a soft, light thing. He didn’t know he was capable of making a sound like that. 

Billy still can’t feel his toes, but he’s not gonna tell him that. 

“Dunno,” Harrington mumbles. There’s a note of uncertainty to his voice now, a dip in his confidence that Billy wasn’t expecting, not now.

Billy lifts his head to rest his chin on Harrington’s chest. He’s staring at the darkened car ceiling, but his hand is tight on Billy’s hip. 

“Could be better,” Billy says, and Harrington’s eyes jump to him, a touch too wide. Billy’s smirk grows. “The beer’s outside.”

Harrington bursts out laughing, pale throat stretched and gleaming in what little light spills into the car.

“If I go out and get it you’re gonna freeze to death,” he says, one hand coming up to Billy’s face. The tips of his fingers stroke lightly over his forehead, almost imperceptible, and push a stray curl away from Billy’s eyes. 

It hits him then, why everything feels so different from his other fucks. He barely has two brain cells left to rub together, caught in Harrington’s warm gaze, and it’s been niggling at him this whole time. How is it that Harrington can make Billy’s brain just shut off. 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Billy mumbles distractedly.

“No.” Harrington’s smile goes soft around the edges, and his fingers stroke Billy’s cheek. “I wouldn’t.”

Harrington’s looking at him like he’s precious. Like something he wants to keep. 

Billy’s retort gets lost on the way to his mouth.

“I’m good,” is what he ends up saying. Harrington smiles. 

He is good, Billy thinks. Right here, under Harrington’s jacket, legs tangled together, the chill of the night shut away for now. 

He’s better than he’s been in a while. 

--

Thank you for reading my piece!

Please look forward to the next one, done by the the lovely @billysblueeyes!!!! Go go go!!

[steviespanties]

what are your thoughts on omegaverse!harringrove in which alpha!steve gets bitched into an omega by alpha!billy?

HOW DID TUMBLR NOT SHOW ME THIS BEFORE?? I'm so sorry Anon😭

(cw for (oblivious) dubcon, insults in a sexy context, mentioned pregnancy kink, omegaverse gender fuckery)

Ah man, I kinda lovee it. Like a scenario where it happens on pure instinct: Billy and Steve wrestle all the time and compete with each other in the beginning, but Billy will always be the one who fights harder and dirtier and Steve inevitably gives in and goes slack in his grip or with Billy's teeth again his throat or the back of his neck.

It just feels right to Steve and he gets all warm and tingly when Billy gets soo satisfied and happy over just holding him down for a while.

They're pretty much attached to the hip already and everyone is confused how they could go from bloody knuckles and bared teeth rivalry to essentially two puppies rolling around in the dirt. No one quite makes the next logical step to "they're fucking" but obviously they are!

And Billy is a kinky fucker, so of course when he's on top he'll call Steve his little omega while he knots him, lube spilling everywhere, Steve moaning through the stretch and how much it turns him on.

But then they also start on these small things in everyday life. Billy ears one of Steve's jackets on a cool autumn day and then keeps it for a week until they go shopping for one for himself. When Steve gets the jacket back it's thoroughly drenched in Billy's pheromones and he doesn't even think of washing it.

Billy comes over a day or two after Steve has been wearing the jacket while running errands and his nose immediately lands in the crook of Steve's neck with a deep inhale. "Shit, you smell so fucking good like this."

It opens a whole new can of worms, because they've been casually scent marking each other before, sure, but not this deliberately. And it's specifically Billy marking Steve that drives them both a little wild. Suddenly there's pretty much always a worn shirt under Steve's pillow that smells of Billy. He hands over jackets and scarves and when they're returned wears them with that growing, tingly happiness in his belly.

And then Billy starts calling him his omega.

It's on top of all the other mean and sweet nicknames he has for Steve, his bitch, his princess, his little slut, bending Steve's legs up to his chest when he fucks him, noses almost touching, telling Steve to open his mouth so he can spit in it. Calling him the perfect little omega when he swallows. Fucking his face and coming all over his nose and chest, telling Steve that a good omega lets his alpha mark him properly.

And he's a good omega for Billy, right?

They're both a bit reckless and thoughtless about the whole thing. They've come to like each other, they move in with each other, they fight and make up quickly, they get a little domestic. Billy's rut comes around and Steve helps him through it as best as he can. It still doesn't prepare him for how exhausted he gets by day three, how his limbs get so heavy and his mind has fogged over with tiredness and pleasure-pain from how fucked out he is.

Billy notices it too and slows down as much as he can, coos into Steve's ear that he's such a good omega, turned himself into nothing but a fuckhole for his alpha. How he can't wait for Steve to get his heat so he can pump him full of pups.

And for a moment, everything swims together inside Steve's mind. The tender ache in his hole. Billy's scent all around him. The months of being called an omega, Billy's omega. The thought of having kids, not just a nebulous concept but a combination of him and Billy growing inside him. It's not just that he wants it- for that blissful moment as he's coming, he truly believes that's what will happen.

It kinda messes with his head afterwards. Makes him sad and confused, because even when the fog lifts and he knows that he's always been an alpha and always will be, he still wants that. So much. It's very hard to put into words though and so all that he manages to do is seek out Billy in less combative ways, staying in skin contact longer, dragging Billy's hands and mouth to his neck when they fuck, allowing Billy to scruff him when that's a line they didn't cross before.

Now, Billy isn't stupid. He notices the shift in behavior. Maybe even a slight shift in scent. But it's been so gradual that it doesn't fully hit home how much has changed until one day when Robin visits from college and comments on how much Steve's scent has mellowed out. It plants a small seed in his mind.

Not enough to fully reflect on everything that's changed, but it has him on alert even more to Steve's moods and condition. Like how he's been getting stomach aches more often, claiming it's probably just gas or indigestion only to get ravenously horny shortly after and begging Billy for his knot.

It's not quite on the level of "we should go see a doctor" until Steve starts getting exhausted more often, bundling up the moment he comes home and the usual time of his rut comes and passes without anything happening.

They both feel very stupid at the doctor's office when they're told they're pretty much fully on track of Steve becoming an omega.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Why does Steve Harrington sometimes hate the new guy? Billy Hargrove or whatever his name is?

Sometimes, mind it. Not always. Usually he doesn't give a flying fuck about the dude.

Well .. because. Have you, by any chance, noticed how the guy sits? Yeah, how he fucking sits.

The bitch manspreads.

Wherever Steve comes across him - in a class, in the lunch hall, in the gym and the locker room .. oh, at parties .. ?? On Tommy's couch once when he invited some guys over to watch a basketball game, drink beer and smoke pot?

Hargrove's sitting with his legs splayed apart. Widely. Like he fucking owns the place, owns the stupid couch, the motherfucking gym bench. And it doesn't look ridiculous, oh no, he does it with style. Self-assured. Cocky.

Steve has never been made so uncomfortable in his whole life. He wants to look away. He .. he's only human.

And okay, class or lunch - that's not a big deal, really, it's not like Harrington's gonna be peeking under the desk or table - he's not a perv, alright? - to .. uhm ..

But in the gym ?? .. When the asshole's wearing those tiny shorts? In the locker room after shower casually shooting the shit with the guys, wrapped in a goddamn towel? Your dujeels are about to fall out, dumbass, for the whole wide world to see

For Steve Harrington, to see.

Huh, if only.

Or, one time the towel was almost falling off his half naked butt - Steve's hands were itching to pull it down and slap it, but the hunch has always told him - messing with Hargrove isn't worth it, it'll cost ya, it'll bring trouble upon your own ass.

There's just this bulge .. that doesn't let Steve live and breathe freely. The bulge .. And Harrington is not stupid, he's an adult for fuck's sake, - he's got a bulge of his own alright and it might actually be bigger than Hargrove's, Steve has an idea of what's under that towel, and under those shorts, and under those jeans.

He might've snuck a peek in the showers at the real thing. Didn't look, god forbid, stare, no just grazed the whole landscape with the corner of his eye. No time and opportunity to pay attention to all the savoury details.

Might've peeked at the tight firm naked ass the same way a couple of times too.

Dammit.

The problem .. it goes deeper. Steve has started wondering how it would feel like to see Hargrove splayed like this on his couch. Or .. in his bed. Like that, wearing undies only, after a super private party Harrington would invite him to. Getting out of the pool at Steve's house - just the two of them to swim there ..

What was the question again? Why does Steve hate Hargrove? You get it now, right?

Harringrove manspreading? 🤔

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Harringrove Lovefest Day 9: Conversation Hearts Hurt/Comfort | T | 1.3k @harringrovelovefest

🤍🤍🤍

From what Steve's gathered over the three or so months that he's been 'dating' Billy, he knows that the blond has issues.

Like, issues issues.

Which is fine, because so does Steve, and they both do their best to be patient - even when it does wear thin. Steve knew that it wouldn't be easy to love Billy. He doesn't make it easy, because his temper gets the best of him sometimes, which leads to fights and silence that spans days. He pushes Steve away, says shit like 'I don't need you or anyone' and puts his walls up. He refuses to go on dates or hold Steve's hand, even in private. Only kisses during sex. Never cuddles.

But, if Steve's anything, he's persistent. And desperate to love and be loved.

So, he waits. He lets Billy have his space when he needs it, reassures Billy that he's not going anywhere, even after they fight. And Billy never says 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry', but he'll always listen whenever Steve talks after a fight, when he explains how he feels. He communicates and Billy doesn't, which is the most frustrating part.

He's begun to feel a little hopeless.

As he's feeling torn between giving up and hoping for the best, Valentine's Day arrives.

He's at school, watching couples be couples with gifts and flowers and cards, and watching Billy watch them, too.

Steve doesn't expect anything, in all honesty. They hadn't made plans, and if he can't even call Billy his boyfriend, he doesn't expect a gift. Which is, admittedly, disappointing because Steve wants to shower Billy in gifts - his favourite snacks, the new Metallica tape, his favourite beer, maybe a rose or two or three - but he doesn't want to scare him off. And it's hard, because Steve's always been a romantic and Valentine's Day has always been one of his favourite holidays.

And here he is at his locker after last period, still holding onto hope that maybe Billy's stuffed it full of love.

But when he opens it, it's empty.

His heart drops and he frowns, takes a deep breath as he shoves his notebook inside and slams it shut, swallowing down his disappointment.

Whatever.

When he gets to the parking lot, Billy's Camaro is already gone and Steve clenches his jaw.

"Whatever," he mutters to himself as he rips open his Beemer's door and slumps inside, driving home with a heavy heart.

🤍🤍🤍

He'd never admit it, but Steve hides in his room for the rest of the evening. His parents leave him money for pizza before they head out for their own Valentine's Day dinner, but he hasn't bothered.

He doesn't know what to do. He feels stupid. He should just call Billy and tell him how he feels, tell him how disappointed he is, how he wants to do something for Valentine's Day.

But, what will that get him? At best, a silent phone call or maybe a small hum of acknowledgement. At worst, Billy gets angry and annoyed.

Ugh.

He goes downstairs and eyes the money on the counter, considers taking it to go grab some beer instead - and then the doorbell rings.

Brows furrowed, he heads over to it and peeks through the hole, sees a fisheye view of Billy standing there with his hands in his jacket pockets, looking off to the side with his own pinched expression.

When Steve opens the door, he doesn't bother to hide his confusion, even as those blue eyes meet his.

They're guarded, as usual. Unsure.

"Hey," Steve mutters, frowning, "What're you doing here?"

Billy's mouth twitches as he half rolls his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he gives Steve a look, "To see you?"

"Well, obviously," Steve huffs softly, and they eye each other for another moment before Steve steps aside, silently inviting the other boy in.

Billy steps inside and Steve locks the door behind them, leaning against it as he watches Billy toe off his boots. The last time Billy had worn his shoes inside, his mom had flipped.

"Parents went out?" Billy asks, eyeing the living room and kitchen before turning back to look at him.

He looks fucking gorgeous, as always. His hair is perfectly styled, he changed into that white t-shirt Steve loves on him, his jeans cup his ass perfectly.

And the way Billy looks at him, eyes half lidded, as he checks Steve out in return, makes his face go a little warm.

He's fucking blushing, as if he's never been alone with Billy.

In response to the question, he nods quietly.

"You're being quiet," Billy mutters with a small lift of his brow, "Usually I can't get you to shut up."

Which is true. Should he just say it? Should he tell Billy how he felt earlier? Would it do any good? What if Billy's had enough and if he said anything, he'd just get dumped? On Valentine's Day.

Billy takes a deep breath and looks up to the ceiling, his jaw clenching as he thinks something over, until he finally takes his hands out of his pockets and holds one out to Steve.

Dark brown eyes go to that palm, seeing three small hearts resting there. Yellow, pink, and green.

Steve blinks in surprise and steps closer to get a better look; stamped in red letters are three small, simple messages: BE MINE, KISS ME, FOR EVER.

He flicks his gaze back up to Billy's face, who's looking off to the corner but his face is flushed, like he's embarrassed.

Steve feels hope bloom in his chest.

He cracks a small smile, still a little unsure, as he asks quietly, "What're these for?"

"They're for you," Billy says just as quietly, his eyes going down to his palm and an annoyed look flashes across his face for a second before his other hand is rearranging two of the hearts, swapping their place.

BE MINE. FOR EVER. KISS ME.

Steve's smile grows but he dampens it, his eyes widening as he flicks his gaze back and forth from Billy's face to the hearts, feeling his own begin to race. "You trying to tell me something?" He asks playfully, his voice a whisper.

Billy finally meets his eyes then, the blue of them so much brighter when he blushes, and he clenches his jaw again with a small shrug. "I...I know I'm not good at saying how I feel," he whispers, his eyes going down to the conversation hearts again, "And Susan bought a bag of these, so I figured, y'know - I'll just...show you how I feel. And I know you like all this romantic pussy shit, so..."

Steve can't help the way his eyes and smile soften, endeared beyond belief at how Billy is trying. It's a relief, a clear message he's been waiting for, sent with three simple little candies.

All for Steve.

Carefully, he takes them from Billy's hand and steps even closer, their eyes meeting once more as Steve whispers, "Thank you."

Billy's face twists a little, a frown on his face, "Don't thank me, it's not much."

"But it's something," Steve argues gently, taking Billy's hand in his and giving it a squeeze, "And I'm not asking you for more than you're ready for, Billy. I'm yours, and I'm not going anywhere."

He can see the tension bleed out of Billy's shoulders then, and the way those blue eyes line with tears makes Steve's heart ache. No one's been this patient with Billy before, he can see that now.

"You want this - with me?" Steve asks softly, lifting the yellow heart that says FOR EVER between them, Billy's teary eyes landing on it.

Without hesitation, he nods and Steve doesn't hide his smile this time. He lets Billy see it clear on his face.

"Wipe that goofy smile off your face, Harrington," Billy mumbles with a tiny smile.

"Make me," he hums, challenging him.

And Billy doesn't disappoint. He feels Billy's hand on the nape of his neck, his thumb resting along the side of his throat as he's pulled in, their lips meeting in a soft and sweet kiss.

It's one of the many Valentine's Days he spends with Billy and it's always his favourite.

[robthegoodfellow]

I've wanted to commission art for @fizzigigsimmer's fic He Who Holds the Devil (Harringrove Hannibal AU of my dreams) for ages and ages and ran the idea by @ihni a couple weeks ago who proceeded to create this masterpiece as a gift to gift to Fizzi 😭 Just a whole sequence of sneaky gifting.

But just LOOK at this!!! I'm still in slack-jawed awe. STEVE SWIMMING IN BILLY-SHARK INFESTED WATERS 🤩 Thank you thank you @ihni you're amazing 💛

Read the scene below:

Hargrove holds his stare and repeats slowly, “You do process it. Things the rest of us can barely even get a sense of, right?” 

Across the table, Hargrove has started to change yet again. The light of admiration washes over him in colors of pale yellow and sweet cream, until he shimmers—like Steve is viewing him from behind the glass at the aquarium. It’s stunning.

Steve swallows hard, and it takes him a deliberate moment to blink his eyes slowly and push the vision away. An uncomfortable heat prickles in his chest, discomforted with the evidence of the other man’s admiration of something he himself can only see as flawed. He doesn’t know what to do with it. [...]

The pink tip of Hargrove’s tongue appears in the corner of his mouth as he considers Steve with that probing gaze. He swaths a slick trail over his bottom lip, dark pupils dilating. Steve looks him in the eye, just for a moment, just for a taste, and sees blue lightning crackle within their depths.  

He inhales quick and soft as swirls of blue fill the room, transforming into waves. They push at the walls, breaking the diner around him like it’s made of matchsticks, obliterating it from existence. A wave crashes over his head, and Steve barely has time to gulp in a breath before he’s thrust down into the water. 

His heart pounds heavy and fast in his chest as he fights to swim toward the surface, but his movements slow when he senses that he is not alone in the depths. Turning slowly, he sees a dark shape in the water, growing larger as it swims towards him—recognizes the graceful sway of its body before it comes fully into view. Steve goes still, the surface forgotten. 

It’s a sandbar shark, colossal in size—king of its kind. It glides towards him, turning its long powerful body as it makes a wide arc and begins to circle. The meaning is clear: somewhere in the depths of Billy Hargrove a predator lurks, and Steve is in its sights. 

He’s gone too deep. He should be fighting to get back to the surface, back to himself, but that’s not the job. Steve doesn’t fight the pull of Hargrove’s mind. He forces his muscles to relax. His heart begins to slow. He kicks his feet and delves deeper.  

As he swims down into the deep blue the shark is never far, sometimes gliding just below or above in a lazy orbit. Despite Steve’s initial fear, it seems in no hurry to harm him, and he takes advantage of their silent truce to admire the impressive length of its body and smooth bronzy skin.  

What a beauty you are. 

[shieldofiron]

Hiii I just wanted to know if you had any nsfw for Harringrove or Hellcheer 🙏

(Btw I really like your writing)

YK WHAT ACTUALLY... thank you so much ❤️And also I should write more hellcheer so have a hellcheer ❤️

They don't have sex.

Chrissy's not sure why. She wants it kind of really bad. Purrs it in Eddie's ear when they're in the middle, paints a picture in words that make her blush later.

But this feels so good. Eddie wears these tight jeans, and when he slots between her thighs, pressing her panties against her and rutting just right.... her brain goes all hazy and she can't remember what she's supposed to do besides what feels good. When they start, they don't want to stop.

And Eddie's so sweet, but he treats her kind of dirty. Which she loves. She's not precious when he has her panting and grinding back against him, when they're sweaty and shivering in the back of his van. She's not breakable, or too pretty, she's...

"Chrissy," He gasps, like it's some sort of magic spell, silvered at the edges. He has his hand up her shirt, thumbing a nipple while she's using the seam of his jeans to get herself off and he's leaning close, his hair forming a curtain around them. It feels so safe. and it's so perfect.

"Eddie," She whispers, straining so she can see how wet she's gotten, white cotton showing the edges of reddish-blonde curls, and Eddie's jeans, darker in one spot.

It's almost filthier than sex, like this. She tugs his hair so hard when she comes she ends up with a little pile of strands in her fingers. He comes in his jeans not long after, chanting her name over and over. They laugh drunkenly afterwards, and kiss and kiss.

They will have sex. Someday, she knows they will. But she hopes they never give this up either.

[magniloquent-raven]

Harringrove 😬🧸 and 💦 (since the breakup)

hey! 🥰 yall are getting tiny ficlets instead of blurbs because i have no self control lmfao especially when it comes to writing billy and his feelings

😬 confessing their feelings + 🧸 exes with feelings + 💦 sleeping together for the first time

**

He's just getting this out of his system.

That's what Billy keeps telling himself.

It's a closure thing.

He can get one last orgasm from Steve, knowing it'll be the last. He can savor it, memorialize it, commit every bead of sweat and tiny sound to memory, and then move on knowing he got everything he could from whatever this thing between them was.

Last time was a quickie in the backroom of Family Video, and Billy left before either of them said a word to each other, if he'd known...

He digs blunt fingertips into Steve's sweat-slick back. They can't get any closer, but he tries anyway, ignoring the sting of future rugburn forming on his chest where Steve's carpet of hair has been rubbing against his skin.

"Billy..." Steve says, warm and close, his nose brushing Billy's temple. He sounds fond and teasing, like he knows—

He knows nothing. There's nothing to know.

Billy turns his head, licking into Steve's mouth and stopping any dumb shit from coming out of it.

It's a bad distraction. Not because it doesn't work, Steve kisses him back with enthusiasm, but because it hurts. Billy's chest cracks open, and a terrible, wounded noise rips from his throat.

It must startle Steve. He jerks away, eyes going wide, but stopping is even worse than starting, because the second Billy's lips aren't occupied he gasps—

"I love you."

Steve goes very still.

Regret hits Billy like a bag of bricks. He's buried under it, choking on the dust. He needs out. Away. The wall he tried to build collapsed on him and he can't let Steve see the wreckage.

He shoves Steve off him and scurries back in one clumsy movement, panic making his limbs heavy, his fingers numb.

Steve catches his wrist. "Wait."

"Let go."

"You said you didn't want...y'know."

"I don't."

"So you don't want me to tell you I love you too?"

It's Billy's turn to freeze. Tears prickle at his eyes. "No," he says quietly.

There's a determined, defiant tilt to Steve's chin. "Well, too bad. Because I do."

A dozen retorts rattle Billy's teeth, and he grinds molars, trying to swallow them back. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say right now, but he knows nothing that's coming to mind should come out of his mouth.

"Billy." His voice is doing that soft, mushy thing again, and he scoots closer, sheets wrinkling around his bare legs. "I love you."

It hurts. Like it hurt when Steve kissed him. Like it hurt the first time he did something stupidly romantic for Billy, out of the blue, laced their fingers together while they were sharing a cigarette at the quarry. They were sitting on the hood of Steve's car, bathed in sunset orange, and Billy couldn't stand how picturesque it all was.

He takes Billy's hand again now, slipping down his wrist into his palm. This time Billy lets him.

💕tag list @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove💕

[harringroveera]

Me when people use a character or a ship tag only to trash talk about said character/ship

[spaceofentropy]

Thank you, @ihni , for the baton! Without further ado, here's my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race!

It's a little fic (that I'll post on ao3 later, when I'm awake and cosplaying as a functioning human) and that is very cleverly (not really) titled...

A Pirate's Life For Me

Billy's always known he wasn't lucky in life and this, right here, is the culmination of it all.

Not even two months at sea, working his ass off for a meager pay in the hopes of earning enough to exstinguish the debts his father and Chrissy's father put on their shoulders before dying, and his ship gets captured by pirates.

Worse: captured by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who has a reputation as a great swordman and a ruthless bastard who doesn't leave survivors.

Billy did his best in the fight, but he's just a farm boy turned deck swabber, his swordmanship goes very little further than "the handle goes into your hand, the pointy part goes inside the enemy". So now he's kneeling, hands raised, on the deck of the Panthaira, along with the rest of the surviving crew and passengers.

Well, with all the survivors except Captain Loman, who's huddled against the main mast. The Dread Pirate Roberts is crouched in front of the captain and talking to him in a low voice while the captain clearly draws his last breaths, shirt painted a vivid red with the blood gushing from the puncture wounds in his chest. Loman was a petty tyrant, so Billy is not exactly bawling his eyes out at the prospect of the captain being gone soon. It's just the principle of the thing that counts. The Panthaira has been captured, and, to put it mildly, Billy is fucked.

There are too many pirates keeping them under threat of more stabbing, and also no damn place to go even if he were able to escape the ship. They're in the middle of the ocean, nothing but water in every direction for hundred if not thousands of miles.

So Billy stays where he is.

And looks either at the back of the Dread Pirate Roberts or at the slow rising and falling of Loman's chest.

He waits and hates how his arms are getting heavier and heavier by the second. Soon, he'll be dead and, back home, Chrissy will have to mourn her best friend too, not just her parents.

Captain Loman's chest at last goes still and Roberts extends a careful, gloved hand to close the man's unseeing eyes, before turning towards his prisoners in one swift, elegant movement.

Robert's dressed all in black and wearing a mask, just like the stories say. He has long brown hair tied in a low pony tail, and dark eyes that sweep the crew and passengers of the Panthaira like he can weigh the wort of each of them with just one look.

Billy lets his hands fall down, tired of this charade. If he's gonna die anyway, what good comes from obeying? Might as well die with some feeling left in his arms.

Someone shouts at Billy to raise his hands again and he just ignores him. Roberts is walking their way, his steps slow and his attention pointedly fixed on cleaning blood off the blade of his sword.

Somewhere behind Billy, a woman starts weeping. One of the crew members pleads for his life. Another offers all the money he's got to be spared.

Bunch of cowards.

Roberts stops in front of Billy, ignores everyone else.

"You're not pleading," he says in such a voice and cold tone that the people around them fall silent, too scared of what's happening.

"I don't plead."

"Aren't you scared, boy?"

"To death."

Roberts grins. It makes the moles on his cheek dance.

"Should I bestow on you the sweet mercy of death, then, or not?"

Billy licks his lips and grins back.

"You should let me live, sir."

"And why should I make an exception?"

That's the true problem. Both Billy and Roberts know it, judging by the predatory look in his eyes.

Why, indeed.

"True love?" Billy tries.

Roberts laughs.

"She must be an exceptional lay, to make you believe someone will let you live only so that you'll be able to bed her again!"

"Wouldn't know, I've never wanted to fuck my best friend. Is there truest, purest love than the one that's never been tainted by lust or carnal needs?"

The Dread Pirate Roberts laughs even more and then shakes his head.

"Unbelievable," he says in a stage whisper. "What's your name, boy?"

"Billy."

"Well, Billy, I find myself in sudden need of a personal attendant." Roberts pauses for a beat, cocks his head to the side. Predatory is now an understatement for the look in those dark eyes. "Do a good job and one day you'll be able to return home to your best friend. Do a bad job, and your friend will never see you again. Are you interested in the position?"

Billy grits his teeth and never lets his gaze waver from Roberts.

The decision is so simple he doesn't even need to think about it. He nods and Roberts smiles.

Billy doesn't know what's in his future, but he'll do all he can to survive whatever Roberts throws his way and then return home. His best friend is waiting for him.

And with this, my installment of the race is done and it's time to head over to @liverditty in an hour for his contribution! I can't wait to see what he created for this beautiful event! In the mean time, thank you for reading, fair tumblr users, and thanks for organizing this, @harringrove-relay-race ! ❤️

[manwrre]

This is my contribution to the harringrove relay race!

Title: 💫 heaven at your fingertips 💫

Rating: explicit content

Word Count: 3,055

Tags include: trans male character billy, alternate universe - college/university, domestic boyfriends and afab language while describing genitalia.

•

Despite what anyone with working eyes and a brain might think, Steve doesn’t actually hate his job.

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to entertain the thought— everyday at a campus coffee shop is rough— but he doesn’t dislike it. His hours are pretty flexible and his coworkers are all great. There’s an endless amount of staff drinks allowed on a single shift and Steve’s allowed to bring home as many leftover doughnuts as he wants. His boss and the owner of Bean’d, Todd, isn’t really around to micromanage them but whenever he does pop in, Steve feels lucky enough to be there despite the minimum wage paycheck.

So hate it, he does not.

Not even on the worst days when he’s spread thin and exhausted. Not even on a brutal day like today. The shittiest day that he’s had in a while, he thinks, stepping out of the rundown elevator and unto his floor. The fact that he’s practically home doesn’t even seem to help. If anything, the distance between the elevator and his front door seems longer than usual as he walks. His shoulders are heavyset with eight hours of tension and his feet ache so deeply that the dusty, burgundy of the hallway’s carpets look comfortable. Perfect for a seat. Or a nap.

He doubts his neighbors would mind if he just settled there for the night. Mr Stewart might pretend to be pissed but Mrs Maulkin, who lives next door, is just about the sweetest, little lady. She pinches his cheeks and always goes on and on about him getting more sleep. Once, she’d even watered their plants when he and Billy visited the kids back in Hawkins on break so yeah, she’s pretty neat.

Ideally, she would probably prefer if he didn’t get said rest on her welcome mat but he wasn’t going to be picky. His shift had just about driven all of the pickiness out of him. Whacked it out of him with a broom sometime between the morning rush and the midday rush or maybe, it was between the evening rush and clean up? Point is, it’s been beaten out of him.

Above his head, the yellow bulbs blink almost lazily and he reaches for his keys. He swings the lanyard around his finger almost idly and eyes the peeling, black paint of the apartment numbers.

505……506…….507…….508……509…….Ah.

He unlocks the door, shuffles inside with a sigh and for a second, just stands there. The scent of home surrounds him immediately and some of the day’s weight falls at his feet as he flicks the lights on in the small walkway. He hangs his backpack unto the hook shaped like a little guitar that Billy seems to like so much. Grabs the brown, greasy bag of donuts that Billy also seems to like so much and toes his shoes off.

“Bee, I’m home!” He nudges the pair of kicks out of sight with socked toes and blindly tosses his keys into the nearby bowl. Catches a whiff of himself. Pauses. Almost keels over. All in that order.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gags aloud.

Beneath the cloying scent of artificial syrups, powdered sugar and dozens of iced matchas with oat milk and brown sugar foam, is the usual sweat and grime of a long day. He doesn’t have to look in the mirror either, to know that his hair is all flat and ugly beneath his cap. too.

He needs a shower and a nap and some food and really, just his fucking boyfriend. Again, all in that order but it’s been a long week of barely seeing each other with finals and the usual shifts so he knows that he’s only gonna cover number five on that list before passing out.

“Billy?” he calls again, flipping the main lights on.

The action casts a soft glow across their little, one bedroom apartment.

Fully furnished and equipped with a couple of leaky faucets and chipped wallpaper but theirstheirstheirs. A year ago, she was all they could afford on their meager savings in California but now, she’s home. Steve studies his social work on the bedroom floor and Billy stocks their shelves with books about anatomy. They cook dinner together on most nights in their dingy, little kitchen, watch trashy horror in the living room and spend every night wrapped around each other.

“I brought donuts again. We were outta the pistachio ones so I got glazed and no, Sam didn’t make them this time.”

He pads across the living room, not a trace of his boyfriend in sight and dumps the paper bag on the counter. He’s convinced that Billy might be asleep— it’s been a long week of exams and Steve cracks the door to their bedroom open, fully expecting the room to be shrouded in darkness,

only to pause.

To take it all in.

Because oh.

Steve can’t help it— he’s drawn to the sight of too naked legs and too smooth thighs. Can’t focus on anything but the way that Billy’s hand disappears between them. Can’t wrap his mind around anything other than the fact that Billy is very much awake and very much touching himself in front of him. In the flesh.

There’s a lot to take in.

Billy’s naked from the waist down and facing the doorway; his legs spread to reveal the pink of his pussy as he thumbs across his clit. Steve’s gaze lifts then, up his bare, little waist and to the thinning material of Billy’s tee shirt, which is the only piece of clothing he’s wearing. He zones in on where the worn, blue material fits snugly across his boyfriends chest,

swallows,

and then meets the amused blues of Billy’s eyes.

Billy, who doesn’t dare hide the heat in them or the intent behind his smirk.

“Hi, Stevie.” he purrs, predatory. Like a shark that’s just smelled blood. “Crazy day?”

The lowness of his voice sends a jolt of heat down Steve’s abdomen; one that settles at the base of his cock all hot and heavy. And in response, Steve’s shoulders drop, his body relaxes and the day’s toll leaks out of him. Sludging. Lethargic.

God, he’s easy.

“Uh huh,” he mutters, unintelligibly, at first. Then, snaps out of it enough to flash Billy a smile.

“Funnily enough, I actually think it’s about to get crazier.” He shuts the door behind him and steps closer. His gaze only stray for a matter of seconds to catalog everything about Billy in this moment. The navy blue of their sheets beneath the blonde. The handful of books on their bedside table. Billy’s hair all tied up into a loose bun. His pebbling nipples. His wet, hot cunt and the fact that he hasn’t stopped touching himself.

“Yeah? I wonder why.” the blonde drawls, quirking a brow.

“Dunno, think I’m about to get laid or something.” He’s teasing and Steve loves it.

“Or something,” Billy mocks, rolling his eyes but Steve’s words have him biting his lip.

He’s trying to come off as unaffected but Steve knows he’s anything but. The soft curls sticking to Billy’s forehead, damp with sweat and all, let him know that this has been an ongoing endeavor. God knows how long Billy’s been pleasuring himself— dripping like this; his cheeks flushed a pretty scarlet, eyes dark and lips an almost mottled red. Bitten plump. Half-parted in pleasure for a beat too long whenever he speaks.

Steve doesn’t have to pretend. He doesn’t want to hide the urgency that he feels or the effect that Billy has on him, so he tugs his shirt up over his head before tossing it aside.

He crosses the distance between them in no time and crawls into the alcove between Billy’s thighs oh so easily. Steve thinks, yes and finally and this is exactly where he belongs when he’s got Billy under him. He thinks holy shit, you’re lovely when his boyfriend stares up at him with wide, dark eyes and pulls him closer by the loops of his belt. Simultaneously, Steve lifts one of Billy’s golden thighs upupup around his waist and lessens the oxygen between them with a kiss so hot that the air around them feels supercharged.

He loses himself in the soft give of Billy’s lips and nips at his cupid’s bow with an impatient noise. Beneath him, Billy opens up like a black hole; this consuming, taking thing and Steve licks into his mouth all too eagerly. The blonde’s answering moan is breathy and high and Steve laps at every slick crook with his tongue—to taste, to feel, to map out and to claim. Beneath him, Billy’s hips jerk to life just as Steve becomes breathless with desire and blindly, he seeks purchase in the rough material of Steve’s jeans. The soppy, wet heat of his cunt seeps through to Steve’s skin as Billy rides his thigh.

“Stevie— please, I need you to fuck me.” Billy gasps into his mouth.

Steve takes advantage of this and busies himself by stamping kisses across the curve of Billy’s jaw and throat and neck. He sucks pretty, purpling bruises into the golden skin there and ruts down against his pliant, waiting body. A taste so distinctly Billy explodes on his tongue; clean and citrusy and tangy and Steve loves it.

Steve groans deeply, “Yea, sweetheart? You missed me?”

“You try being celibate in an apartment with your hot ass– ah, boyfriend for two weeks. A perfectly timed breeze could’ve had to creaming my fucking pants at the quad today,” Billy hisses and Steve can’t help it, he laughs.

“A breeze, baby? Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch,” the amusement is palpable in his voice. He knows that Billy must sense it, even with his eyes closed because then, they aren’t. They aren’t and Steve is forced to meet those dark, dark eyes and trace the expanse of Billy’s flush from his cheeks, all the way down his chest. And without another word, he’s undoing his belt; his fly coming undone and everything. He shucks off his jeans and underwear in one swoop and wounds a hand around his chubbing cock.

It’s hot and thick in his too dry palm but the contact sends a surge of crackling heat up his spine.

He sees Billy’s attention shift. Feels his cock throb as he does that thing; the one where he tongues at his lower lip and his gaze flits between Steve’s and his cock almost thoughtfully. And his mouth is suddenly dry as he follows the subtle quivers of Billy’s stomach. Watches it dip and swell and hears his intake of breath because all the while, the blonde’s hips never exactly cease. They just slow into deep, core aching figure eights until he can’t take it and he’s reaching between their bodies for Steve’s cock.

Billy’s touch is warm but callous-rough and feels like heaven around him. In thanks, Steve winds his fingers into the blonde’s curls to steady himself, while Billy uses the precum at the head of his cock to jerk him off hard and fast. The pace has him fucking into the tight ring of fingers with a choked off moan, “Fuck– oh.”

Billy’s smug. He knows this because the demanding slide of his fist slows and well, he says as much. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna bust a nut the minute I get my mouth on you. That’s gonna make it even more embarrassing,”

“Brat.” Steve spits but he’s smiling and scooting up so that his thighs bracket Billy’s head.

“Pushover.” Billy laughs, genuinely pleased and swallows Steve’s cock into his mouth with a wet noise.

The sudden too hot, too wet of it punches an aggressive exhale out through his nose,“Holy shit, fuck” and he grabs unto the headboard while Billy makes easy work of him.

Billy sucks the head into his mouth with a practiced ease that makes Steve weak in the knees and melts all of the fight right out of him. It’s all familiar but Steve will never get used to this. Will never fail to be amazed at how well Billy takes him; unyielding as he tongues at the sensitive underside of Steve’s cock and groans around him in a way that liquifies his fucking mind. It takes everything in him not to shout when Billy hollows his cheeks and instead, his grip grows tighter in the mess of blonde curls until he’s sure it hurts.

“You’re so fucking good at this, baby. So pretty,” He cradles Billy’s cheek, only to be rewarded by a hint of teeth across the thick vein that Steve favors, near the crown.

Billy moans around the cock in his mouth and Steve’s brain collapses in on itself like a dying star. When he speaks, his voice is a low, warbled thing, “Waited all day just to suck me off, I bet. Just to put that mouth to use, huh, sweetheart?” And then, Billy pulls away to slap the leaking, ruddied head against his tongue for Steve to see. He lets it sit there. Lets the precum pool sluggishly on the pink of it and stares up at him in a way that makes Steve feel like coming home. God, he’s so close.

“C’mon, baby. I wanna cum but I’m gonna do it inside of you,” Steve grabs at his jaw affectionately before shifting sideways and falling onto his back invitingly. It takes everything in him to stay there.

He swats at the curve of Billy’s ass as he moves and swings a leg over to bracket Steve’s hips, ignoring his grumbled complaint of ‘being too lazy’. The next part comes easily, however. Billy doesn’t waste any time before he’s sinking down on his cock in a swift, decisive motion; his pussy opening up around Steve with the tiniest bit of give.

And then everything clicks into place.

Billy’s cunt is slick and he makes the prettiest sight on top of him but Steve doesn’t move. He’s trying his damndest not to and ignoring the flex of his thighs as his pelvis seems to ache with need to just do something. But he doesn’t move because Billy loves this. Billy needs this moment, so he waits. He watches as Billy holds himself tightly and he adjusts to the sheer girth of Steve— his palms lying flat against his bare chest and his hips moving in shallow bursts.

“Oh,” Billy breathes out before sitting up and slamming himself down on Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, there you go,” Steve growls and plants his heels deeper in the mattress with every thrust. He grabs at Billy’s hips and at his thighs, brushing his fingers across the curve of his ass where stretch marks color the skin liquid-gold against bronze. Rivulets like the rings of Saturn. Like Billy’s his entire world and here lies the proof of it.

The thought sends a possessive thrill through him and his grip on Billy’s ass turns bruising. Tomorrow, Steve will nip and suck more galaxies into it but for now, he tries to mold a place inside of him with his cock; deep and hard until he finds the place that makes Billy howl and stiffen.

“Steve— right there, right there, right there. Don’t stop fucking me, please,” He cries, shifting until Steve swears his cockhead nudges against the damn near opening of Billy’s womb. And he knows that Billy feels it too because he flinches, as if surprised, as if the pleasure is tinged with pain but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

“C’mon, baby. You can take it, don’t run.” he croons, forcing Billy to do some of the work; to rut back against his cock and envelope it whole and that’s exactly what he does. The blonde’s thighs flex with the strain of working himself open but he takes it so fucking well and Steve loses himself in the suctioning grip of Billy’s cunt. Closes his eyes and swears there are universes being created behind his eyelids. Star by star. Space dust by space dust.

“You were waiting for it, right? Wanted it so badly, gorgeous boy,” he chokes out, needing to let Billy know just how badly he’s got him.

The sound Billy makes in response is winded, all the same and then oh so pleased as he drops his hips into a slow, dirty downward grind. It’s miasmic and Steve feels the sloppy mess of Billy’s pussy against his abdomen and pulsating around him.

“Oh my god— Stevie, I’m gonna cum. Oh please, I’m gonna cum,” he ruts against Steve’s cock in these half aborted, little circles and Steve is equally as devastated by the constant bursts of pleasure and pressure.

The heat in his gut is building just as quickly. It’s a dangerous, tumultuous thing that expands past his groin and into his gut. He feels it in his hips, in his chest, at the back of his mouth and behind his teeth. It’s so close that he can taste it and he meets Billy halfway with the next few thrusts, plunging deeper into him, as if to say, ‘you feel it too, right?’

He’s whispering a mantra of, “Yea, baby? Right there?” and these desperate, half chewed off variations of Billy’s name.

And so many things happen within the next second that Steve can barely keep track of them. Billy muffles a moan between his teeth, whining all high at the back of his throat as he nods. He fucks himself on Steve’s cock with a restless abandon that comes from chasing his own orgasm. And Steve thinks, his womb. Billy’s fucking womb. He must be in it. He wants to knock him up so bad that it’s dizzying. So bad that it’s earth shattering and gravity defying. There’s the build up of white, blinding pleasure and then— the string snaps. Billy’s cumming around him with a shout and Steve’s fucking his cock into him without reprieve; thrusts long and drawn out as they ride the wave together.

He cums for so long and so hard, that Steve thinks he might have passed out a little. When he comes to, Billy’s cunt is still milking him dry and the blonde is plastered to his chest in his own, little world. Boneless but sated.

At that moment, the weariness in his bones hits him all at once and he winces. Shifts a little beneath Billy’s full weight but stamps a kiss to his forehead nonetheless. Billy grumbles into his sweat slick chest before pressing his lips there in return and brushing his mess of hair out of his eyes.

“So… donuts?” And Steve snorts.

“Yeah, donuts. I can’t believe we just screwed and that’s what you’re worried about.”

Billy’s answering smile is wicked and travels straight to Steve’s heart, “You knew who I was before you dated me so now you’re stuck,” and he’s smug about the fact.

His amusement is short lived as Steve’s softening cock slips out of him, alongside the mess of cum and Steve rolls them unto their sides. “Only because rent is killer in California but as soon as I make it big?”

Steve pats his cheek and yawns, “You’re outta here, hot stuff.”

Billy doesn’t fight him, though. Doesn’t argue that they can afford somewhere a little bigger now or that he’s pulling in more money than Steve is at the mechanic’s shop. He doesn’t point out that Steve’s been saying that almost everyday for a year and yet, still brings home his favorite donuts and will cuddle Billy for as long as he’d like after his shift because he misses him.

He doesn’t say it but Steve knows. He feels it in his chest the same way, too and thanks God and the universe for giving him a little bit of the sun and stars to hold; to keep with him forever.

minor technical difficulties meant that this was a little delayed!! so sorry everyone. i had so much fun working on this!! please look forward to the lovely upcoming work from our next contributor, @racketti and many thanks to @harringrove-relay-race for being such an amazing host 💗

[rigginsstreet]

Modern au harringrove would be so annoying like first of all dating billy would raise Steve’s status back up to its former glory and give him a much needed confidence boost that makes him insufferable

So then you have the two top dogs of the school dating, at every party together up each others asses (both literally and metaphorically), egging each other on like only they can to drink and fight and party.

They’re both insanely jealous so god help anyone who tries flirting with them or so much as stares for too long. And they’re protective too so double goes for anyone trying to start shit, which is rare cuz everyone KNOWS to back off. Usually problems come at basketball games when the other teams try shit talking. Never ends well. Only thing keeping billy from being kicked off the team is he plays so damn well and gets them a lot of points.

They’re always together in dates, always driving around town when there’s shit else to do. Always on each other. Can’t keep their hands off (neil simply does not exist in this scenario he’s gone 😌)

Walk down the halls of Hawkins high with their hands in each others back pockets, wear each others clothes/jewelry to school, rule the whole damn place. Their senior prom is the first time Hawkins high designates two kings as class royalty. The yearbook photo is contested by many the pta but the harringtons name outweighs everything so ✌🏻

[sadhours]

idk some harringrove

Steve talks. He talks and talks. Never has a solid point but that’s fine because his plump, pink lips smack together in a real pretty way that has Billy following. Maybe not the words but the shapes they make of his lips as they leave his mouth.

Dude’s blitzed but this is the funnest Harrington gets. Getting coke is hard in this porta-potty town but Billy’s scored some. And it’s questionable stuff. Ain’t the way it feels back home but hell, does it make Harrington run his mouth. Wiggles his jaw around like he’s bouncing around something in there, and he is— it’s just his words. Billy knows he’s got this fucking dumbass, lovey look on his face. Knows it because when he catches Hagan’s eyes, the fucker bounces his eyebrows. Billy’s been caught. And with the subpar blow and the fiery whiskey, he don’t care too much.

Guards down, maybe because he gets the same type of vibe from these fucks. The vibe his dad gets from him. Spell it out, Billy. F-A-G-G-O-T. Word he says to himself in the mirror to “knock it off” like his good ‘ol dad tells him to. But then you get Harrington in a room with him and it’s all out the window. Wants that word smeared proudly across his fucking forehead so Harrington’ll get the picture. The way Hagan gets it.

Unfortunately, those Bambi eyes might be as empty as they appear. Harrington don’t get it. Even when Billy thinks he’s making it obvious as can be. Harrington will laugh it off, like Billy’s just being guys the way guys are. And that his squeezing of Steve’s face in hands isn’t a gesture of fucking attraction. And well, maybe that’s why Billy does it in the first place.

But he gets that feeling from Steve. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Cognitive dissonance maybe? Billy doesn’t exactly know what that means. Just knows he wants to plant a fat kiss on Harrington’s pretty, flapping lips and knows the dumbass would laugh it off if he did in the first place.

“God, you’re sure are stupid,” Billy tells the brunette.

Steve pauses, tilts his head as his eyes bounce from side to side. No doubt reciting whatever the fuck he’d said back in his head. Trying to figure out whatever the dumb thing he said was. And there wasn’t— or, there probably was but Billy’s too goddamn in love to even recognize what it was. Staring at those pretty lips like there’s no tomorrow.

Hagan giggles. Billy knows his biggest wish is to be in the middle of a Billy-Steve sandwich. And maybe he’d live his dream if Steve was a little less dense. But as far as that goes, Harrington is the most clueless fucker Billy’s met.

And god damn isn’t that the cutest thing about him.

“What did I say?” Harrington asks, Bambi eyes blinking quick and dumb, pouty lips parted. Billy wants his tongue on them.

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t been listening to a damn thing,” Billy cackles, kicks his foot against Harrington’s ankle for good measure.

“Then how was it stupid?” He’s confused, it’s written all over his pretty face.

Billy shrugs, laughs with Hagan. Knows Steve doesn’t get it and they’re both in love with the idiot. Oblivious to the whole bit.

“I said you’re stupid,” Billy smirks.

“Yeah, no I heard you,” Harrington replies, head still tilted in the mess of confusion.

Hagan makes it weird, “You’re cute, Harrington.”

Billy’s a mess of giggles then, on his back as it rips through him.

Harrington looks at the pair of them like they’re insane. And maybe they are. But Billy agrees, Harrington is cute.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Y’all it’s Nutcracker Season!!! This time last year I was playing around with my sims and Harringrove Ballet au was just beginning to take root in my mind. 🥹

Right now, ballet companies around the world are casting their dancers and beginning weeks of non-stop rehearsals in preparation for winter shows. At Mrs. Harrington’s school it’s no different. This is their biggest show of the year, performed right in downtown Indianapolis for crowds of holiday theater goes. Last year Billy was a brand new face. He arrived in Hawkins in mid October, halfway through the semester and almost missed auditions entirely; but he still scored a principle role as the Rat King. A well known critic wrote a review about their production for the first time and called the battles between the Nutcracker Prince and the army of rats “electrifying”. The theater has asked the school to do an extended run this year, and is allowing the principal dancers to attend classes with Indy Ballet as they prepare of their winter show of Cinderella.

Max likes to spend as little time at home as possible so she was one of the students who stayed for the summer workshop. Billy did too, and he might be an ass and well, kinda scary, but he’s also really good, so she’d stalked him at the studio until he called her on it. But then he started giving her tips, and practicing at the same times just sort of became a thing. He’s a shitty coach from an attitude perspective but, well she’s got two solos this year as both a snowflake and a flower! Which means she gets to take the bus with Billy and the older kids to class in Indianapolis on the weekends and stay at a hotel. Lucas and Mike both got solos too so she’s not alone with the high schoolers and their drama. Nancy is pretending not to be upset that Chrissy beat her out for Clara this year, and won’t stop telling everyone who will listen how much technically more difficult the Sugar Plum fairy is. After Nancy made some comment about Chrissy eating a lot at lunch Heather like lost it and accused Nancy of being jealous, so Steve called Heather out and told her to stop being such a bitch to his girlfriend and that really pissed Billy off, since everyone’s like 90% sure that Billy and Heather are dating. Max isn’t so sure. She almost thinks Billy picks on Steve for the attention. He’s like obsessed with Steve.

Max wonders just how embarrassed Billy would be if she ever told Steve how much Billy talked about him all summer. Seriously. It was ALL summer.