#happy birthday Billy!!!

[hgrve]

s3 billy + text posts -> Happy Birthday Billy Hargrove!

[chrisbitchtree]

Eggs

A tiny little something in honour of Billy's birthday!

800 words - G

***

“Funny how Easter’s on my birthday this year,” Billy said, bypassing a greeting completely as he grabbed a post-run glass of water from the fridge. “Fucking weird how it moves around every year. I can never keep track of it, and now it’s so early, it’s throwing me off. I know we’re going back to Hawkins to Hop and Joyce’s house for Easter lunch on Sunday, but maybe we can do something afterwards, or the next weekend, if we’re not too busy?”

Steve nodded and turned away, trying to hide the grin taking over his face. Sure, they were busy trying to get the record store they were opening off the ground, but it was crazy to Steve that even after a decade together, Billy didn’t know well enough that Steve had already been planning something for his birthday for months.

In fact, given that it was his 29th, his champagne birthday, Steve was planning something extra special, a huge party with all of Billy’s favourite people, Hop and Joyce, all the kids, Robin, and some of their other friends from the city, all of them congregating at Joyce’s for a big turkey dinner in honour of Billy.

“How were you at Easter egg hunts when you were a kid?” Steve asked Billy, trying to steer the topic of conversation away from birthdays.

Billy shrugged. “Can’t really say. Neil told my mom to stop setting them up for me when I was about five. Said I was too old for that shit. Too bad, I love those little eggs. Just never felt the same to eat them after without earning them on a hunt.”

A tiny piece of Steve’s heart broke at the words. He knew it was part of Billy’s healing process to be really matter of fact about Neil’s cruelty, that it wouldn’t help at all for Steve to make a big deal out of it in the moment, to try to comfort him or tell him everything was all right now. So, he did as was requested and just told Billy that that sucked, kissed him on the top of his sweaty head and they moved on with their day.

Or so Billy thought. As soon as Billy was in the shower, safely out of earshot as he blasted metal so loud Steve was sure the neighbours would complain again, he placed a call.

“Hi Steve,” Joyce said, when he informed her of who was calling. “It’s very nice to hear from you, but you don’t typically call the store. Is everything ok?”

“Of course,” Steve replied. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m just hoping that you can do me a favour. Does Melvad’s have any chocolate eggs left?”

“Sure,” she answered, sounding confused. “We have about thirty or so bags left.”

“Great!” Steve smiled. “Can you buy them all? I’ll pay you back as soon as we get there on Sunday.” He went on to explain his plan, a giant easter egg hunt, stretching all over Joyce and Hop’s new farmhouse property. Forget the party, Billy was going to lose his mind over this.

Joyce promised that she’d buy the eggs and enlist the kids to hide them all over the yard. Steve thanked her, then settled in to wait until Sunday.

***

Easter Sunday came, and as Steve had guessed, Billy hadn’t been at all expecting a party, and thanked Steve and Joyce a million times over for getting everyone together for him. They had a great time, feasting on ham and turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing, hot cross buns and three kinds of pie, along with a huge birthday cake for Billy, and they all toasted him with champagne as they sang happy birthday.

Then finally, it came time for Billy to open his presents. Steve could no longer hide his grin as Billy tore into his gift from Steve, two tickets to see Metallica, cradled inside an easter basket. “Uhhhhh, thanks, babe? I think?”

Steve laughed, explaining Billy’s task to him and the crowd gathered around them. “It just seemed fitting that since your birthday is on Easter this year, that we do something extra special. Besides, you’re never too old for an Easter egg hunt, right?”

Billy smiled at him, giving him such a fond look that Steve had to take a moment just to look at him, capturing that moment in his memory forever.

They all spent the afternoon helping Billy on his hunt, laughing and smiling, posing for Jonathan’s camera, as they filled his Easter basket almost three times over.

They ended the day curled up together in bed, surrounded by little balls of tinfoil Easter egg wrapper, groaning as their belly aches started to set in. Even as he reached for the Gravol, Steve knew that this would quickly become a cherished memory.

[neoymm]

happy birthday!

Dec 23rd

[ihni]

A wee little scene inspired by the beginning of @platypanthewriter's fic "Hug", excerpt below:

In the Byer's trailer, Steve’s fingers had pressed against his chest, and Billy’d followed them. Whenever he laid awake in bed after—as his lip healed, as the skin of his knuckles stopped pulling and stinging where they’d met Steve’s face—he felt those phantom fingers.  Steve’d just...touched Billy with the tips of his fingers, pushing him away, and Billy’d wanted to lean in, yank Steve Harrington in like he had on the basketball court, breathe in his air.

Read the rest on AO3 here.

[terrorofthetrident]

“Every job I do, I’m always trying to hone my craft and develop new skills to add to my arsenal. Every job I do is like an apprenticeship because I never went to drama school. I’m learning on my feet.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EWAN MITCHELL!

⇢March 8, 1997

[biillys]

did you see that? yeah, i saw that! that was at least seven feet! i don't know what it was, but it almost gave me a heart attack.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BILLY!

[slutforsnow]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE 🫶🏼

[adorearchie]

Find all da fours !!!!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 84

Amity Park absolutely adores her little ghostling, her little Gatekeeper who was of her own ectoplasm, reborn from her own blood in the center of her new heart. She absolutely adores her baby, practically a newborn, being only a year dead! 

So of course she had to gush and boast about her little phantom to the other city spirits! They all got together to gossip sometimes after all. And both Smallville and Fawcett started to gush about their own little ones back! 

Gosh they should set up a playdate at some point, her little phantom could use some friends in the mortal realm. Well some more friends, three is obviously not enough. Oh, Gotham and Bludhaven have come over as well! It’s a playdate then! 

Now if only each of their world’s timelines were synced up, but at least everyone is around the same age! 

[hgrve]

s2 billy + text posts -> Happy Birthday Billy Hargrove!

[avaitothegal]

YOU GUYS NEED TO LET ME KNOW WHEN ITS UR BIRTHDAY EARLY ON SO IM PREPARED 👹👹🫵🏿🫵🏿🫵🏿

Happy birthday! 🥳🎉🎂👏🏿👏🏿😌

Ur old ❤️😘😘

@endomentendo

[callmebrycelee]

happy 55th birthday

skeet ulrich

[stephstars08]

🎂Happy Birthday Ralph Macchio!🎂

Happiest Birthday to one of the most talented actors in the world!

Pretty much every character Ralph has played I immediately fall in love with them and they become one of my comfort characters!

Make sure you all go wish Ralph a special Happy Birthday!!!

(How he’s turning 63 I have no idea because he for sure does not look like a guy in his 60’s!!)

[ihni]

Starry-eyed under starry skies

For @weird-an <3

~~~~

“It’s my birthday today,” Steve said, apropos of nothing, swirling his can of soda around and listening to the carbonation fizzle. He could see his breath in front of him, like a cloud of white against the blackness of the January sky.

“Really?” Billy said from his spot next to Steve on the back porch of the Harrington house. He emerged from the thick knitted scarf that he’d wrapped around his neck just long enough to look pointedly over his shoulder at the decidedly empty house. “Then why aren’t there a hundred shitfaced people and a keg in there?”

Steve shrugged, and then couldn’t help but grin at the way Billy immediately buried himself back into the scarf so that it covered both his mouth and (adorably red) nose.

Billy noticed Steve’s grin – because he had an uncanny ability to notice the little things – and narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”

Instead of answering, Steve raised one eyebrow. “You sure you have enough layers, there?”

It was Billy’s second winter in Hawkins, but this time around he’d prepared with tons of second-hand winter clothes which he layered on top of each other, uncaring of how they looked together as long as they kept him warm, claiming that he didn’t care that they didn’t match, because ‘he could make anything look good’.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t have a point (although Steve secretly thought he looked more cute than good), but perhaps getting possessed by an otherworldly creature who liked it cold also had something to do with Billy’s current fashion choices.

Case in point; “Shut up,” Billy said and looked away, like he always did when something touched a little too close to home. Then he deflected, like he also always did; “Why aren’t you throwing a party if it’s your birthday?”

And Steve dropped it, like he always did. “I am. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Some party,” Billy muttered. “A guy who don’t drink and a guy who can’t smoke.”

After what happened at Starcourt in the summer, Steve had stopped drinking, finding that he didn’t appreciate the loss of control as much as he used to after being drugged and beaten by the Russians. And Billy, well. He only got out of the hospital in November, and the doctors had expressively forbidden him from both drinking and smoking – or, as Billy said, ‘everything fun’ – for at least a year. The two of them had bonded over that, as well as a thousand other things (monsters being one) in the last couple of months, and now they were here. The two of them. Alone in Steve’s backyard.

“I’ve hosted a lot of parties in my day,” Steve said, taking a deep breath of cold air that burned his lungs. He tilted his head back and looked up at the stars, impossibly far from Hawkins, Indiana. “This is better.”

“This?” Billy said, sounding almost incredulous. “Being out in the cold and the dark and watching the sky is better than booze and girls and music?”

And. “Yeah,” Steve said simply, feeling the truth of it in his chest, like released tension.

“How?” It wasn’t said disbelievingly, though, but it sounded as if Billy really wanted to know.

The words slipped out of Steve before he could stop them. “Because you’re here.”

He hadn’t meant to say it; not now, and not out loud. But there was something about the two of them here – next to each other, nursing sodas of all things, braving the cold because Steve wanted to look at the stars – that made the truth so easy to speak. And there was no confusion, no barely-hidden panic like with the Russian truth serum. It was just Steve, and Billy, and the starry sky.

At his words, though, Billy let out a breath as if he’d been punched. His eyes widened, and if he hadn’t been hiding behind three layers of wrapped-up scarf, Steve was sure that he’d see his mouth fall open.

“You …” he said, and shook his head a little before looking away. “You can’t just say shit like that, Harrington.” Always Harrington, when he was uncomfortable.

“Why not?” Steve asked, feeling brave for once. “It’s just the two of us here.”

The moment stretched out between them, and he could hear Billy as he swallowed hard … and after a second or so too long, Steve gave a little shrug, trying not to feel disappointed as he added, in a too-obvious attempt to break the tension, “Besides, it’s my birthday. I can do whatever I want.”

Billy huffed, and Steve expected him to jump on the opportunity to steer the conversation back to safer grounds … But he didn’t. Instead, he dug into the pocket of his (eyesore of a) winter jacket and pulled out a misshapen, badly wrapped little bundle, and half-shoved it into Steve’s chest.

“Here,” he muttered. “For you.” And then, in a lower voice, “Happy birthday or whatever.”

A thrill of something warm shot through Steve as he took the little present from Billy’s mitten-covered hand. He glanced over at Billy, eyebrows raised in question – “You knew it was my birthday?” – and watched Billy shrug and not meet his eye.

He’d gotten presents from others earlier in the day – from his parents, from Robin, even from Dustin – but this felt different. None-too-gently tearing the paper open with stiff fingers, he let out a little laugh when he saw what was inside.

“I saw it and thought of you,” Billy said, and Steve looked up fast enough to catch him watch Steve with something like fondness, before he averted his eyes yet again.

It was a little Care Bear plush, light yellow in color and with the image of a cupcake on its belly. The cupcake held a single birthday candle, and the bear had a plastic heart-shaped nose, which Steve couldn’t help pushing at with a finger.

The bear was soft to the touch, and Steve suddenly felt soft, too. “He’s cute.”

A beat; two. Then, “Yeah. That’s what made me think of you.”

Steve’s head shot up in surprise, and this time Billy didn’t look away. His face was red – could be because of the cold, but it could also be something else – and he straightened up and worked the scarf bundle down with his chin so that Steve could see him properly. “It’s nothing, just a stupid bear. But I, uh.” His eyes flicked to the side for a second, but then he looked back, as if determined to see this through. Whatever this was. “I have something else for you, too.”

Steve waited – for what, he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing and dispelling the crisp feeling in the air between them – and watched as Billy drew himself up and took a deep breath. His breath came out in a cloud, too, and for a second Steve imagined the cloud sticking to Billy’s lashes and freezing there, like tiny crystals, glittering like snow. How would it look, and how would they feel when melting against Steve’s skin?

“Close your eyes,” Billy said, and Steve did, because right now Steve couldn’t deny Billy anything.

Holding the little bear in one hand and the soda can in the other, Steve stood there with his eyes closed. The darkness became all-enveloping, the cold became sharper, and all the little sounds around them – the creak of the branches in the woods in front of them, the electric hum of the outdoor lamp behind them, the distant sound of a car driving down a street – became all that he could hear.

And then. Warm lips pressing against his, a cold nose touching his cheek; there for a heartbeat, two – and then gone. He opened his eyes and found that Billy was right there, not gone at all, just having drawn back an inch or two. His blue eyes were open wide and shiny, the porch lights reflecting in them like the brightest stars in the sky. Billy swallowed and licked his lips before saying, hoarsely, “Happy birthday, Steve.”

Steve, not Harrington, despite being uncomfortable, despite being visibly terrified.

And wasn’t that the best birthday present Steve had ever gotten? Hell. Closing that one or two inches of distance to kiss Billy again was the easiest thing Steve had ever done.

~~~~

(Also works, quite incidentally really, for the @harringrovewinterbingo, square C3, prompt "Starry sky, starry-eyed".)

[peachyxxkeens]

[tomblythismyhusband]

happy birthday [ tom blyth x fem!reader ]

[summary]: tomblyth x fem!reader | You make a dinner for Tom’s birthday and enjoy time together :)

[warnings]: none

[wc]: 1k

[note]: little blurb i wrote bc HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MAN. (who is most definitely not my man)

“Damnit.” You muttered under your breath as a glob of chocolate frosting fell onto the previously clean kitchen counter. You swiped it up with your finger before sticking it in your mouth letting taste make you hum.

You glanced at the cake you had frosted. Well- could you even call it a cake at this point? It was a mound of chocolate frosting, cake and sprinkles that was sagging with every second you took staring at it.

You let out a sigh. You wanted tonight to be perfect. It was your boyfriend, Tom’s, birthday today and the stress of getting everything just right was finally settling in.

You had been running around all day, getting his gift ready, making a spaghetti dinner, and getting the mood of the apartment set. The cake - which of course you had put off till last minute- was the last step, and looking at the blob of chocolaty goodness you realized maybe you weren’t the best baker.

You hadn’t used your time to your advantage and thought ‘Hey what could happen?’ while slathering frosting on a still- warm cake. Apparently a lot could happen, and now with sugary counters and messy hands you realized maybe you didn’t do this whole ‘cake thing’ the right way.

You glanced at the clock. Tom had mentioned he’d be home at 6. You blink at the glowing 5:45 then turn back to your pitiful excuse of a cake.

“Maybe I can fix it.” You murmur, taking a knife to smooth out the globs of frosting. The cake does not cooperate in the way you wanted as the frosting begins to tear the cake underneath. You hold your breath as you try to salvage the most of it.

Almost as if on cue, the front door slams shut the sound of keys being thrown into a little tray meets your ears

“Love I’m home!” Tom calls. You hear his footsteps start to make their way down the hall towards the kitchen and you quickly wipe your cake covered hands on your apron to rush and meet him.

“Tom hey..” You said breathlessly, stopping him so he couldn’t enter the kitchen. Tom’s lips pulled into an amused smile, seeing how you were basically blocking him from seeing the mess you’d made.

“Love, have you been baking?” He asks, taking a hand to touch your face. “There’s flour on your nose.” He taps your nose playfully with a smirk.

Heat floods your face as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “Yea- I- attempted to.”

Even after dating him for months, Tom still had the power to make you flustered. A single brush of his hand and you forget everything you’ve ever known.

Tom’s eyebrow quirked upwards as he looked at you. “Attempted?” He chucked, a lopsided grin melting onto his face.

You let out a deep sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’ve been working all day on this dinner for you and I just can’t get the cake right. I’ve definitely learned I’m not a baker. I’m sorry Tom.”

Tom’s face lit up. “Dinner-?” He was not expecting this surprise.

Then, realizing you were a bit upset he instantly grabbed your hands, while his brows furrowed with concern. “Woah woah- hey. Why are you apologizing?”

You looked up at him and frowned. “I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Tom shook his head and let out a small chuckle. “Love you know anything you’d have done would’ve been perfect. I didn’t even expect you to surprise me with dinner. And so what if the cakes not perfect? At least you are.” He added.

You felt a smile slowly creep into your face as he leaned in closer. “I’m so happy you’ve done this for me. You didn’t even have to.”

You leaned in to give him a quick kiss, your cheeks flushing with color at his words. “I wanted to. And, Thank you Tom.” You whispered.

Tom gives you another lopsided grin and squeezes your hand. “Well let’s eat shall we?”

The table was set with delicate silverware and flickering candles that made everything surrounding them almost magical. You had bought fresh roses and placed them on the table. You weren’t scared of making things special extra tonight.

You both sat across from each other, sipping wine, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Conversation was light and fun, jokes, stories, a little bit of flirtation. Everything was indeed perfect.

“God y/n-“ Tom said in awe once you had both finished your meals. “You’ve outdone yourself. Thank you.”

“Anything for the birthday boy.” You giggled, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend.

Tom smiled at you. “Though- If you sat me down with a case of beers and takeout I would still be extremely thrilled.”

You blushed at his words then giggled. “Noted for next year.”

You then stood up and smiled down at him, excitement in your eyes. “Now. One more thing before we eat cake.”

“Oh?” Tom questioned, his eyebrows raised with surprise as well as intrigue.

“Stay here for a moment.” You directed before hurriedly walking to your room to fetch his gift.

After a moment, you returned to the dining table with a pink card in your hands. You handed it to him thoughtfully. “Happy birthday Tom.” You beam, sitting down to watch him open it.

His eyes linger on you for a moment before tearing into the envelope. He pulled out a folded slip of paper and opened it, a puzzled look on his face.

Then his jaw dropped. His face lit up with happiness as he looked up at you, still in shock. “Y/n… you didn’t.” He said in awe, shaking his head.

You bit your lip and nodded excitedly. You had bought him tickets to go to the Super Bowl. Tom had always wanted to experience seeing the game played right before his own eyes, and now he would be able to.

Immediately, Tom stood up and rushed over to you, pulling you up from your chair and into a tight hug.

“I’m guessing this is a thank you?” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Tom looked down at you, still grinning widely. “I don’t know how else to say thank you. I love you so much darling.” He said breathlessly, kissing your forehead.

“I hope this was a good birthday.” You said sweetly, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“The best. You're amazing.” He said kissing you again, but this time finding your lips against his.

“How about we finish this night by eating my horribly misshapen cake and watching movies?” You laugh against his lips.

Tom lets out a tiny chuckle. “Sounds perfect.”

“Happy Birthday Tom.” You say again, kissing him one more time.