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greyghoulclub · 2 years ago

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Harringrove Flip it Reverse it prompt 1 - fluff becomes angst: stargazing

Billy antis DNI

For @harringrove-flip-reverse-it

edit: <a href = "Look up to the stars - greyghoulclub - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]"> ao3 link here! </a>

When Steve was little, his mom taught him about all the constellations in the night sky. The big dipper, Orion and his belt, Ursa major and minor. They would go out in the middle of the night to sit on the lawn and use a telescope to see them. His mom would point in the general direction of a constellation and Steve would find it with the telescope.

“Mom! Look!” little Steve beckoned her over to the telescope, the biggest grin on his face. His mom would chuckle, push her long brown hair over her shoulder, and bend down to look through the telescope.

“You can see the big star in Orion’s belt right? Beetle- uh- juice?” Steve was talking a mile a minute because the star in question was brighter than usual. His mom chuckled from her position at the telescope, a beauty mark on the corner of her mouth moving into the crease of her cheek.

“Yes, I see Betelgeuse sweetheart, and there’s Rigel right next to it.” When Steve looked confused, she told him to look at the constellation again. “You see the blue star next to Betelgeuse? That’s Rigel.”

“It’s really blue,” Steve was fascinated by the little blue star, as they usually didn’t see it this bright. His mom only smiled and wrapped them in the blanket she’d brought outside.

When Steve got older and girls turned out not to be so yucky, Steve would take them out on stargazing dates to be romantic. The girls had loved it, something about how romantic it was to be kissed under the stars. And how they thought that King Steve couldn’t be as romantic as he was. Steve would chuckle and say something along the lines of ‘well, I like to make it special for a pretty girl’. Then Nancy came along and it didn’t work with her. For once in his life, King Steve had to work for something.

“Do you take all the girls on these stargazing dates?” she had ribbed at him, not in a bad way, but she was right. Nancy wasn’t going to be as easily wooed, but Steve liked a challenge. So he tried to do things that aligned with her interests, like library dates, the librarian raised an eyebrow at seeing him there. Nancy had liked going to the Hawk for a midnight showing of a new mystery movie, and trying to figure out what was going on before the characters did.

Then the upside-down stuff started happening, and Steve didn’t believe it at first, yeah right his pool had a portal to a different version of Hawkins right in the middle of it, and there were monsters that took creepy Byers’s little brother. Steve still didn’t believe it until he had seen the monster with too many teeth had to beat its face, if you could even call it a face, in with a baseball bat. Steve still saw the thing in his nightmares.

What he didn’t count on was Billy Hargrove. The Californian transplant who had crashed into his life with Motley Crue blaring and a bad attitude. He seemed to be King Steve cranked up to eleven. Billy Hargrove, who had stolen two titles right from under his nose. Billy Hargrove, who had beaten the shit out of him at the Byers' house in November and smashed a plate over his head. But also Billy Hargrive who had come to his house in the middle of January with a split lip and bruised ribs. Billy Hargrove who had silently cried into his shoulder when Steve realised it was his dad who was hitting him and that night at the Byers’ finally made sense.

They had kept their relationship a secret, out of necessity, only ever being intimate when no one else was around. Steve treasured those small moments when Billy had finally let his guard down. The real Billy was someone who had the oceans in his eyes, someone who had a soft spot for the stray cats around Hawkins, someone who was completely at ease in the water. Steve could’ve sworn that he was a mermaid in a past life.

Then Billy got possessed by the Mindflayer.

It was so goddamn painful knowing that he could’ve done so much more to help Billy but he was scared. Scared of the world knowing but Billy had also sworn them to secrecy. He knew that Billy was possessed and he did nothing. He worked the shitty ice cream parlour job at Starcourt acting like he didn’t know what was going on with Billy.

When Billy sacrificed himself to save everyone from the monster, after El had gotten through to him, Steve felt like his heart was ripping in two. There was no way Billy was surviving that. Billy died not knowing that Steve was there in that mall too, that Steve wanted to help him too. How scared must he have been? Not knowing what the hell was going on but his body was doing something that he never asked it to. Steve saw Max sobbing over Billy’s limp body and he was angry with everyone for a second, El had the psychic powers that could’ve saved them all and Billy wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice himself. Why didn’t the kids help Billy like they’d helped Will? Why didn’t he do anything?

Steve watched on as Billy’s body was taken away by guys in white suits for testing. He knew there wouldn’t be a body in Billy’s casket. Steve felt as if he got a limb ripped off. His life wasn’t going to be the same now that Billy wasn’t in it. He didn’t think it was ever going to be the same.

After Billy’s closed-casket funeral, Steve got out his old telescope and found Orion in the night sky. Standing proud and tall with his bow. Focusing on that blue star in the belt. Steve hoped that Billy could see the same from wherever he was now.

#harringrove #harringrove flip reverse it #harringrove flip it reverse it prompt 1 #billy antis dni #harringroveflipitreverseit2023 #flip it reverse it 2023 #billy hargrove

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ihni · 4 months ago

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Of pets, chapter 1/2

For @harringrove-flip-reverse-it day 4, prompt "Collar and leash" (NSFW prompt made SFW)

~~~

“Have you gotten a dog?”

Jim hadn’t meant to startle the kid, but Steve Harrington jumped about a foot in the air and let out a noise that was best described as a squeak at his innocent question. Whirling around so he was face to face with Jim – or, rather, face to chest; Jim was very well aware of his size – he looked even more startled when he saw who was there. Jim nodded meaningfully at the leather collar Steve was still holding.

“Oh,” Steve said, eyes wide and unblinking. “No? I mean, yes. It’s for Billy–“ His eyes widened a bit more and he added, almost shouting, “–s dog! Billy’s dog!”

“Hargrove?” Jim asked, and watched as Steve’s head bobbed up and down in something akin to a nod. “I didn’t know you were friends.”

“Oh, we are. Friends. The best of friends, nowadays, actually.” Steve pointed to himself with a thumb and grinned somewhat unsteadily. “Yup, all those bygones are … under the bridges.” He made some vague gestures with the hand that was still holding the collar, which brought both of their attention to said collar. Steve let out a little sound that sounded suspiciously like a ‘meep’ and hurried to lower his hand. When he spoke again, his voice was a little strained. “Sooo, what are you doing here?”

Jim sighed. “El wants a hamster.”

“A … hamster.”

“Yeah. Someone’s been telling her stories about the merits of having a pet, and since I’m not letting her start out with a cat or a dog, and she vetoed fish since they’re apparently ‘too boring’, here we are.” He indicated the store around them; shelves upon shelves of pet-related items. “Figures, right? The closest pet store around, and it’s two towns over. Gotta say, I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, his smile just a tad too wide. “What a coincidence.”

“I didn’t know the Hargroves had a dog. I haven’t heard Max mention it, and I’m sure El would have insisted on a pet earlier if she had.”

“It’s … uh, new. And not really, uh, a sure thing, just yet.” At Jim’s look, Steve took a deep breath and continued, “It’s … He found it.”

“Found it?”

“Yeah. It’s a stray, um, he found it out by the … by the junk yard. He’s thinking of maybe … keeping it.” Jim’s mind flashed to images of demodogs and four-legged faceless monsters as Steve obliviously continued, “I offered to help with some, uh, with some things.” The kid held up the collar with a sheepish smile, waving it around a little. Then he took a deep breath and started saying, “Well, I should probably –“

Shaking away the image of monsters, Jim offered, “You know, I used to have a dog when I was younger. A German Shepard, great dog.” Bessie. She’d been Jim’s best friend for a good while. “I could give you guys a few pointers if you want.”

“Oh god.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘oh good’.”

“Oh. Well, first of all, what kind of dog is it?”

Steve’s whole face was looking strained at this point. “We don’t know.”

Jim had to frown at that. “You don’t know?”

“No, it’s a … mutt. Like a wild dog probably.” He grimaced as if he regretted his words, but twisted it into a smile almost seamlessly. “But hey, you know how Billy is! With challenges, I mean. He, uh. Really wants to, um. Help that dog.”

At the mention of a wild dog, Jim’s eyebrows drew together further, because he’d honestly had enough of ‘wild dogs’ to last him a lifetime. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice as he asked, “It’s not some kind of … monster dog, is it?” It probably wasn’t, but kids these days were stupid – proven by the Henderson kid – so he felt he had to ask.

Taken aback at the – honestly valid - question, Steve shook his head. “No! No no. No monster … dog.”

“Hmm,” Hopper said with a nod. “Still, a wild dog can be dangerous. You shouldn’t approach it alone, it can bite you if it feels cornered.”

“Oh, uh,” Steve said, “don’t worry about it. It’s a … good dog. Just an overgrown puppy, really. All he needs is some … love and affection.” He paused a bit, and then added, “And food.” Then, after a beat and under his breath, “And like … someone to play with, I guess.”

“Hm,” Jim said again. He nodded to the collar in Steve’s hand. “Well, if you do catch it, make sure you keep it collared. You should probably invest in a leash as well,” Steve made a choked noise. “You don’t want it running away from you. And I don’t need another feral thing running around town.”

“Yup. Yup. Understood.” Steve yanked down the closest leash and held it up with the collar. “Well, that’s my shopping done. I should really get going, wanna get home before it gets … dark.” He cleared his throat. “So I’m gonna.” Pointing at the front of the store, he nodded again, slightly resembling a bobblehead. “Go. I’m gonna go.” He’d been backing up while he was talking, and when he reached the end of the aisle he threw up a pair of fingerguns. “Good luck with the hamster!”

He’d barely dashed out of sight when Jim called after him, “Get some treats, too! It’ll help with training your mutt.”

Another choked noise was his only answer.

What a weird kid.

(On AO3) (Chapter 2)

#harringrove #steve harrington #jim hopper #stranger things #harringrove flip reverse it #flip reverse it 2024 #ihni writes #of pets

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medusapelagia · 12 days ago

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Harringrove Events - November Update

Harringrove microfic and art ( @harringrovemicroficandart) Prompt: Moon Wordcount: 965 Event info

Harringrove Holiday Exchange (@harringroveholidayexchange) Sign up are closed! Get ready for a lovely gift in December! Event info

Harringrove Winter Bingo ( @harringrovewinterbingo) The bingo takes place 1 Jan - 31 Mar, 2025! They are looking for prompts if you're willing to give your contribution! The sign up opens on the 15th of November! Event info

As always feel free to reblog and add other events!

Under the cut past events

Harringrove Kinktober ( @harringrovekinktober ) Here is the AO3 Collection

Harringrove Summer Bingo ( @harringrovesummerbingo) Find a lot of beautiful stories and art in the AO3 Collection

Harringrove Relay Race @harringrove-relay-race is over but our incredible creators gave us 48hours of content Here is the AO3 Collection but check their Tumblr page as well!

Harringrove Flip Reverse ( @harringrove-flip-reverse-it), masterpost

#harringrove events #stranger things events #signal boost #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove

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harringrove-flip-reverse-it · 5 months ago

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Harringrove Flip Reverse It 2024: DAY 1

It's Monday and I'm so excited to see what you've got for us! As a reminder, today's prompts are as follows...

Fluff: Found family Angst: Misunderstandings NSFW: Dom/sub SFW: Language of flowers Trope Subversion: Love at first sight

I'll be reblogging any of today's posts that I can find, so don't forget to tag and @ this blog to make sure I see it! If you're writing fic, don't forget to add it to the AO3 collection here.

Don’t forget….. Fluff prompts should be angsty…. Angst prompts should be fluffy…. NSFW prompts should be SFW…. SFW prompts should be NSFW…. And Trope Subversion prompts can be anything EXCEPT the traditional way of interpreting the prompt!

Looking forward to seeing what you've got!

#harringrove flip reverse it #flip reverse it 2024 #harringrove #harringrove event #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things

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chrisbitchtree · 2 years ago

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The Laws of Attraction

My fill for Day 1 of @harringrove-flip-reverse-it!

Prompt - SFW - School Project

2k - Rated E

***

“How’s that for chemistry, Harrington?” Billy asked, on the edge of a moan. Steve laughed, grasping Billy tighter and stroking faster, eliciting another deep moan from the blonde. “Too bad we can’t write about this for our paper. I’m sure we’d get an A+.”

***

It had all started when Steve had missed his Intro to Human Sexuality class three weeks before. Steve never gets sick. It’s his thing, and he’s weirdly proud of it. Healthy as a horse, with an immune system so strong that the pediatrician would joke that Steve should be studied by science every time he went in for a checkup. Steve would laugh long after the joke got old so he could always be sure the doctor would offer him his favourite sucker, a blue one, at the end of the appointment, after his reflexes were checked and the ice-cold stethoscope was pressed to his chest.

Being so healthy meant that Steve had to get really good at faking colds and flues so he could stay home and eat soup and crackers and watch either game shows, soap operas, or 80s sitcom reruns, depending on which nanny his parents had employed at the time.

Once Steve had started high school and his parents felt that he was past the point of needing a nanny to care for him while they were away and could always reach him on his cellphone if they needed to anyway, he was able to drop the sick act and just ditch school instead. Nobody was going to go to the trouble of tracking down his parents to bother them with the news that their son wasn’t in class that day.

It had gotten even easier once Steve had gone away to college. He would pick and choose what classes he felt like attending and didn’t need to answer to anyone as long as he kept his grades up.

But of course, the first time in his entire life that Steve was too sick to go to school, struck down by food poisoning from some questionable Chinese leftovers he’d found in the mini fridge he kept next to his dorm room bed and used like a fridge, unable to do anything except either puke or lay on the floor next to the toilet waiting to puke again, shivering, and shaking and wishing he was dead, refusing when his floormates tried to offer help. He just had to puke it out.

Finally, at about 8pm, he was feeling slightly better and like the illness had finally run its course. He dragged himself back to bed and curled up in a ball, picking up his phone from where he’d tossed it in the sheets when he’d run for the bathroom and checking his missed notifications.

He had a couple texts from Robin, updating him on all the Hawkins High gossip he was missing out on, and a whole string of them from Dustin that had gotten increasingly frantic as the day had gone on, but the ones that stood out were from Nancy, who of course had ended up at the same school as him, even sharing some of his classes. They’d talked on occasion since breaking up in the fall of their senior year, but it was usually only if they had something important to tell each other so he clicked on hers first.

Nancy – 11:12am: Steve, are you skipping health class again? I heard what Ms. Johnson said to you the other day about your attendance!

Nancy – 11:22am: Partners are being assigned for the huge project in Human Sexuality today. If you don’t get here soon, you might be stuck with Billy. He’s not here today either.

Nancy – 12:37pm: I’m sorry, Steve, you’re going to have to work with Billy. Your topic is chemistry and attraction.

Steve groaned. Just his luck, the one time he’s actually sick, something like this actually happens. He’d done his best to avoid Hargrove since their big fight at the Byers’ the fall of their senior year of high school, as much as you can avoid someone in a town as small as Hawkins, where there was one high school with one basketball team that they both played on.

He’d counted down the days until he was free and could make a fresh start, only to find out that it wouldn’t just be Nancy at his new school, Billy Hargrove would be there too. And then the first day of Human Sexuality, there were both Billy and Nancy, on opposite sides of the front row.

Steve does his best to pretend that Billy’s not there, tamping down an attraction that’s been there since the moment he laid eyes on the other boy. Billy hadn’t confirmed nor denied his sexual preferences since he’d come crashing into Hawkins with his stepmom and stepsister, Max, to be closer to Max’s grandparents after Billy’s dad had died that summer, but if the rumours were true, Billy happily slept with anything on two legs.

Steve doesn’t judge, has no room to, considering how many girls he’s slept with. But that was before Nancy. Since his time with her, he’s been a relationship guy, someone who wants heavy commitment, and Billy just doesn’t seem like that type of guy, so Steve pushes his feelings down, ignoring them in favour of finding someone he could have a relationship with.

Now though, Steve had no choice but to spend time with Billy. A lot of it, considering that the project was worth half their grade. And of course, of all the possible topics, they got chemistry.

***

For the first few weeks that they met with each other to work on the project, they kept their conversations strictly school related, at Steve’s behest, both because Steve didn’t want to end up down a road he wasn’t prepared for with Billy, and because success in academics didn’t come easily to Steve like it did to Billy. Steve needed a good grade in this class, so he had to stay focused and work hard.

They divvied up the research, Billy focusing on attraction while Steve worked on compatibility. It was coming along good until they met to discuss their findings and work on their thesis topic. They were in Steve’s dorm room, Steve at his desk, and Billy sprawled out on Steve’s bed.

He had his textbook open and upside down across his stomach and his arms crossed behind his head. His white t-shirt was riding up, exposing a strip of flesh between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans, and Steve wanted to pull the shirt up, expose him, lick and kiss and nip his way up to Billy’s mouth, wanted to pull the backwards baseball cap off his head and sink his hands into Billy’s curls.

“Hey, Harrington, have you ever thought about whether we have chemistry?” Billy asked. For all his usual bravado, the question came out of his mouth quietly, as if he wasn’t even sure if he wanted Steve to hear him ask it.

Steve looks up, meeting his eye, and he’s giving Steve a look that’s equal parts considering and wanting, his eyes dark. They travel down the length of Steve’s body and back up again, and Steve can’t remember the last time he felt so seen, so wanted.

“What if I have?” he replies, trying for breezy, and failing miserably. He’s way too into this, and it’s showing all over his face.

“Come over here and tell me what you’ve thought about,” Billy says, sitting up and patting the bed beside him.

Steve closes his laptop and takes the few steps to his small bed. He sits next to Billy, their bodies pressed together from head to toe. Steve rubs his knees nervously, trying to wipe some of the sweat off as he psyches himself up to kiss Billy.

He doesn’t have a chance to before Billy turns to him, slipping a hand into the back of Steve’s hair and cupping the back of his skull. Billy pulls him in for a kiss that’s surprisingly tender, as deep and searching as it is.

They stay like that for a long time, exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues, getting familiar with each other in a way Steve’s only previously dreamed of. Finally, they pull back to catch their breath, and Billy gives him a dopey grin before leaning in to nip and suck at Steve’s earlobe. He lets out a loud moan at the contact, too turned on to be embarrassed by the sound.

“Like that, don’t you, pretty boy?” Billy asks, rhetorically, before returning to the task.

Unsure of what to do, Steve slides his hands up under Billy’s t-shirt, exploring the planes of his stomach and the pecs that were the driving force behind most of his senior year jerk off fantasies. And god, they feel just as good as he thought they would, soft and pillowy, but firm at the exact same time. He’s in heaven.

“Can I give you a hand, Harrington?” Billy asks, hand hovering over the button on Steve’s jeans.

“Yes, yeah. Can I, you, uh,” Steve replies, barely able to get the words out, motioning gracelessly at Billy’s own jeans, and Billy undoes the button on Steve’s jeans and unzips his fly. Steve stands and pulls his jeans and boxers down to his knees as Billy undoes his own pants and pulls them down.

Billy pulls him back into a kiss for a minute before pulling away again.

“You got lube in here?” he asks, even as he leans over and pulls a bottle out of Steve’s bedside table drawer. He squirts some on his own and doles out some to Steve before dropping it into the sheets.

They grasp each other in their slicked up hands, and holy shit, Steve’s not going to ask long. It feels too amazing to finally have Billy’s hands on him. If the little whimpers and gasps coming out of Billy’s mouth are anything to go by, he’s not going to last long either.

They stroke each other at a fast pace as Steve tries to see how many hickeys, he can give Billy before they both cum. Three’s the magic number, then Billy’s bucking into Steve’s grasp, and Steve’s doing the same for him, then they’re coming all over each other��s hands and stomachs, gasping into each other’s mouths as they come down from their shared high.

***

They’re laying in bed after, sweaty and panting, Billy starfished out over Steve’s body, with his boxers pulled up but his jeans kicked off onto the floor, a heavy, reassuring weight. When Steve used to fantasize about this moment, he always pictured Billy to be the kind of guy that would hook up and run, but if anything, he seems to be settling in, using Steve’s chest like a pillow, and twining their legs together. It’s exactly what Steve would have asked for if he could decide how this would go. It’s nice, it’s sweet, and Steve could get used to it.

“So, Harrington,” Billy says, his voice quiet but rough, probably from how deep he took Steve’s cock into his mouth. “Do you think we should add this to the paper? Maybe we’ll get extra credit for doing hands on research.”

Steve snorts, swatting him. “As much as I could use the extra points, I think I want to keep this all to myself.”

#harringrove #harringrove flip reverse it #harringrove reverse it 2023 #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove fic #lemon #chrisbitchtree writes

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magniloquent-raven · 6 months ago

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Oh, and what is "trope subversion event"?? That tickles me.

that's where i put the prompts for the harringrove flip reverse it! i wanted to participate last time but i ran out of time to get anything done so this year i keep tellin myself im gonna get some fics written ahead of time lol. right now it's just a list of some rough ideas

my favourite idea i've got so far is for day 1 the found family prompt. i wanna write billy coming back post s4, max is in a coma and everything's a mess. steve lets billy crash at his place because no one will think anything of it after the "earthquake" displaced so many people. and while billy's snooping around steve's house one day he finds the letter max wrote for steve when she thought she was going to die.

and it's basically about max being grateful that steve was always acting like the big brother she wished billy was. which is not a fun thing for billy to read, especially while max is in a coma and may never wake up again.

#WIP ask game

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discodeviant · 2 years ago

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HARRINGROVE FLIP REVERSE IT DAY 1: School Project SFW NSFW | Mature | 2.2k

Sort of unofficially doubling up with Harringrove Week for this one since both events have similar prompts. Also been sitting on this one for a WHIIIILE so I'm excited to share it! Please enjoy 🥰🥰

Read on AO3

Made for @harringrove-flip-reverse-it!

Steve told Billy to bring over a shoe box.

“You’re lucky I keep these.”

“Nice to see you too.”

And it was, despite the odd circumstances that served as an excuse for them to see each other, and for Billy to go to Steve’s house after school without being asked too many questions. When Miss Brown assigned them together, it was because they were the only two no one else wanted to partner up with. Steve and his C-average, Billy and his attitude—a match made in Hawkins High Heaven.

So, the war. One of them. A battle sometime in the late 19th century was the object of their diorama, which would be constructed in a Doc Marten’s box. Steve already had the materials laid out in the garage, all thanks to Dustin, whoever that was. Billy didn’t care, not when he had Steve to focus on.

“Steve, that’s not gonna stick,” Billy told him close to an hour later, after they’d decided to let Billy handle the note cards. Steve was gluing something to the box’s roof, a piece of clay with a glob of Elmer’s. It was laid flat, but still.

“It’s still wet, asshole, of course it’s not.”

Billy laughed. “You got a hot glue gun?” he asked, and Steve pointed to a cabinet where one might have been. “Here, you copy that stuff down. I’ll do this for a bit.” So Steve agreed, and they switched for a few minutes once the glue gun heated up. Steve said he was clumsy and didn’t want to use it anyway. “Can’t let those pretty hands get hurt, huh?” He slapped Billy’s thigh.

Saying so was an omen, apparently, because soon after he started, Billy hissed and swore under his breath. “What happened?” Steve asked, and Billy just laughed and picked at his finger.

“Fucking burned myself,” he said, laughing. “Christ, of course I did.”

“Shit. I’ve got some stuff in the bathroom—“

“It’s fine, man, I’m alright.”

Steve sighed, and Billy surprised himself by letting Steve drag him to the upstairs bathroom anyway, if only because it was Steve. “Max said you like to play nurse,” Billy said. Steve looked through the medicine cabinet until he found a tube of burn gel, sitting it on the counter expectantly.

“You get hurt in my house, you fix it.” One of Steve’s hands perched on his hip, the other flat on the surface of the counter he leaned against. Billy looked at him with both brows raised, a skeptical grin, then held his finger up to Steve’s face.

“You do it.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“Wanna play nurse, play nurse,” Billy said like it was obvious. “Come on.”

So Steve rolled his eyes and picked up the tube, twisting the cap halfway before flipping it into the sink with his thumb. Billy, suddenly, was aware of how close they really were, surprised that it had gone this far even though he initiated it and knew very well that he did. Steve Harrington, then, was holding his hand; not conventionally, but he was. It was tender. Billy’s playful edge wavered.

Maybe they had passing moments like this sometimes, brief glances upon skin that never led to anything. In the gym, the showers, but mostly the parking lot where there were too many people for anyone to notice. Neither were shy; just cautious.

Now they didn’t have to be. Not in Steve’s bathroom when his parents weren’t home, behind the safety of a locked door, the warmth of Steve’s two-handed grasp. Billy looked from his hand to the tube of burn cream on the sink, expecting Steve to have used it by then, but he only stood and stared at the tip of Billy’s finger. Inspecting the burn, perhaps, but it wasn’t that bad.

“What the hell are you doing, Harrington?” he asked with no bark, no bite. Steve’s thumb rubbed over his knuckle. Billy swore he saw the gears in his head turning ever-so slowly, contemplating, gauging Billy’s pulse from his palm.

Then, just as slowly as those gears turned, Steve tugged just enough for Billy’s finger pad to reach his mouth and press against soft lips—they were just as hot. Billy flinched, and Steve’s hold tightened, but he made no move to pull away completely. He held his ground enough to let Steve know that, yes, he wanted this, and, yes, right now. Steve glanced up from beneath short lashes that Billy hadn’t yet the chance to see arched over his eyelids so perfectly.

“Is this how you charm every project partner?” Billy asked with a smirk and jealous eyes, but Steve shook his head.

“Just you,” he said. A second kiss. Billy relaxed. “I put your name down, you know.” A third.

“Did you?”

“Mhm.”

Billy faltered before asking, “Why me?” and Steve shrugged, teasing him.

“Wanted to see you up close.” A forth right at the bend of his knuckle. “Have a real conversation.”

Smiling, “What’s a real conversation?”

“One where I don’t flip you off…” A fifth to the back of his other knuckles, as if Billy was the royal. “One where you call me pretty boy and mean it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve said and smiled coolly, resting his chin against Billy’s palm. Billy thought he was dreaming when Steve lay his finger between parted lips, first only until the tip hit his teeth, and then right over his tongue. Sweat prickled at Billy’s temples; Steve pulled off, mouth still pressed firmly to warm skin. “You’re salty.”

“I’d have washed my hands if I knew you’d be all over them.”

Steve chuckled. “Mm, it’s okay…” And he licked at Billy’s finger pad like a cat. “I like it.” Then it was two knuckles deep and rolling over to the dip in Steve’s cheek.

“You trying to tell me something?” Steve’s eyes opened, found Billy’s, arched into a smile as he shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, slurred from the space Billy took up in his mouth. “How’s your finger?”

“Better,” Billy said, and Steve leaned in closer, so deliberate that he thought time was slowing down just for them. He pulled his finger out from Steve’s mouth that chased it reluctantly, wanting more but not allowed to have it. His mouth hung open dumbly, and he was leaning against Billy with most of his weight, melting into the other hand that slid up his arm.

Steve was the one to lean even further, up until his open mouth found Billy’s closed lips, overwhelming him to the point of being perfectly still. The face he made when he pulled back was heartbreaking. “Kiss me back,” he said, pleaded, yet Billy could still only stare at his perfectly pink lips, freckled cheeks and forehead that frowned. His eyes were so big, filled with yearning that tugged at every heartstring Billy had.

“Steve…” It came out as a whisper. The last crumb of aching denial rolled away. Billy’s chest worked before his brain, a deep inhale fueling the surge of want that hit him like a train. He kissed Steve back. Oh, did Billy kiss him. Slow, heavy, his movements were sharp, and it was like learning how to do it all over again. He didn’t know what to do with his tongue or his teeth—or his hands, besides gripping tighter to Steve’s hair and t-shirt. He was long gone.

They weren’t so different in height. A couple inches, if that, in Steve’s favor, so even weak in the knees, Billy’s chin turned up to meet his kiss. To look at him in the brief moments they pulled away for air and let their eyes flutter long enough to capture a still of the other, desaturated and pale but beautiful nonetheless. Steve’s arms wrapped around Billy’s shoulders, pulling him closer while pushing back against the wall. Words became blissful sighs and groans, one body dragging the other against it from head to toe. Hips rolled in waves with their spines and sent shivers up their cores.

If Billy tried moving his hands to Steve’s shoulders or back, he nuzzled his head back under Billy’s palm. If he tried to leave Steve’s mouth for his neck, those runaway lips were chased. “Stop it,” Steve said. “Just—let me—please.” Billy huffed a breathy laugh as he was rubbed against like a scratching post.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, baby.” His voice was low enough to vibrate through Steve’s brain and turn him to mush, a useless block of melting ice trying desperately to hold its shape.

“Then don’t make me wait,” Steve told him, pulling away for just long enough to send a message through his eyes. There might have been fear in that look for a moment, a question of whether this was a good idea, whether they would do this and regret ever letting themselves have it, but decidedly they didn’t care about that. Steve was kissed once more, and then began sinking lower to the floor, stamping open-mouthed kisses over Billy’s neck while both hands found shelter under his shirt. It took the two of them to rip it off and throw it into the sink; Steve froze.

“What’s the matter?” Billy asked, suddenly self-conscious when Steve glazed over his torso with sad, pleading, yearning eyes—Billy had never known the difference. “We showered this morning, what’s wrong with you?”

“I know, I know, just—“ Large hands pressed into his sides, thumbs drawing over the front, up to his chest, over each nipple and back down again. Steve lost his train of thought entirely. Then he lowered himself down onto one knee, pressed the side of his face against Billy’s abdomen, listening for the heartbeat as it pulsed through him in waves. A kiss placed just next to his belly button slowed Billy’s breaths down before they accelerated again, both hands still wading through Steve’s hair and following the motions of his head.

Lower it went, lips and teeth and tongue still dragging over Billy’s skin like a thirsty hound, and frantic hands followed with reluctance to part from their station on his bare hips. He hadn’t even realized when Steve unbuckled his belt until the zipper of his jeans was being pried apart. Embarrassment washed over him and rose goosebumps everywhere. Steve chuckled, and Billy started to yank them back up when he was asked, “Do you always go commando?”

“What?”

Steve moved Billy’s hands away and pushed under the waist of his jeans, kneading his hips, seemingly unbothered by his unimpressive size: small enough to get away without briefs and not draw prying eyes. “Just for me, then?” Steve looked up, matching Billy’s gaze between kisses to his pelvic bone, cheek and jawline dragging over the hair and making brief points of contact against an aching cock.

“You don’t—you’re not—“

“Billy.” His jeans were down to his ankles by then, and he was more exposed than he’d been in his life. Physically, emotionally, intimately with someone he’d fantasized about and drooled over for months. Someone whose palms were firmly pressed against his glutes, whose fingers they melded to effortlessly. “You’re gorgeous.”

He could have cried, but Steve’s mouth fitting around his shaft kept those tears behind his eyes and made him shudder hard. He supposed the king’s tongue was a myth, then, only rumor dictating how sophisticated Steve’s palate was. Perhaps Billy was a delicacy, which he considered while Steve rolled over and under, pulsed against the tip, pushed a hand between Billy’s thighs to rub palm-up against his balls. There weren’t words or a sound he could make to express, with uninhibited honestly, what this meant and did for him, but Steve didn’t mind the quiet.

Billy’s huffs and hisses filled the space, harmonizing low, long hums with Steve’s. Every so often, his hips jerked, and he got teeth in return. Not hard but softly gliding along the stretch of his cock and around the base, sucking where his scrotum started and coaxing louder grunts.

Steve swallowed. Kept a hand firmly against Billy’s groin when he stood back up and kissed him some more. “Salty, salty, salty…” For a moment, Billy was reluctant to kiss him back but did anyway when his face was turned forward by a firm hold on his jaw. It was disgusting and arousing at once, to kiss Steve with the ghost of his own flavor. Not that he cared all that much, because he was still kissing Steve Harrington; Steve Harrington was still kissing him. It was bliss.

Breathless, Billy pulled his jeans back up and tugged on his shirt with languid arms and Steve’s assistance. “We can go to bed if you want,” Steve said against Billy’s ear, a hand on his chest and fingers tracing over reddened collarbones.

“We’ll—let’s—“ God, he was so dizzy. “Project first, Harrington, come on.” He sniffed, trying to play it cool, like he hadn’t just had the next week’s energy sucked out of him. “You’re not getting a C on my watch.”

One more kiss—there was a joke in there somewhere—and they were back in the garage for a while. Closer this time, more touchy, more distracted, and more sure than they’d ever been that this was right.

#harringrove flip reverse it #harringroveweek #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #flip reverse it 2023 #.discowrites #fanfic #one shot #ao3

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ihni · 5 months ago

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The flower whisperer

First fill for the @harringrove-flip-reverse-it; day 1, prompt: "Language of flowers" (SFW prompt turning slightly NSFW)

(Read it on AO3 here)

~~~

The bell over the door jingled happily, and Steve wasn’t exactly surprised to see Billy enter the flower shop. It was a Friday, after all, and Billy usually came in on Friday afternoons, and had done so for the last couple of months.

At first he’d just bought a random bouquet of flowers and left, but as the weeks passed he and Steve started talking more. Small talk at first, and then Billy started asking Steve for his opinions on what flowers to use for his bouquet, and sounded surprisingly interested when Steve got to talk about one of his favorite subjects; different flowers and their meaning. Billy lingered for longer each time, even walking around the shop and appearing happy to just hang out there and wait if Steve was busy with other customers.

Sometimes, Steve wondered who the lucky lady was who got all of Billy’s flowers. The guy wasn’t wearing a ring and he never mentioned a girlfriend, but who else could it be for? One time in the very beginning, Steve had asked who it was for – just to get a feeling of what kind of flowers would be suitable, of course – and Billy had gotten a soft look on his face and even given a crooked smile as he replied, “A … special lady”.

So yeah. Probably girlfriend. Which meant that Steve didn’t have a chance, which was a shame really because he’d recently come to terms with the fact that he was into men just as much as he was into women, and Billy was definitely someone he was into. The man was gorgeous, with his long dark-blond hair and very slightly freckled skin (Steve had been delighted when he’d first seen the freckles, following a couple of sunny days in April) and perfect teeth that were almost blindingly white when he smiled. And he was funny too; biting and sarcastic and quick as a whip, and he could get Steve laughing like no one else – and blushing too, like the times he called Steve ‘pretty boy’ or ‘gorgeous’ and Steve couldn’t help the flutter in his chest.

Steve knew that it wasn’t real flirting – no matter what Robin said – because of the aforementioned girlfriend, but still. It gave Steve the butterflies whenever it happened.

So he was always looking forward to Fridays, and was always happy to see who he was considering to be his favorite customer. Which is why his face split in a grin as soon as he turned around at the jingle of the bell and saw who was there.

But something was off, this time. Billy wasn’t smiling back. Wasn’t sauntering up to the counter and leaning over it like he usually did. Didn’t even say hello. No, this time he stalked up to where Steve was standing and said, short and to the point, “I need a bouquet.”

Not used to such a direct approach without at least some small talk first, but hiding his confusion behind his customer service skills, Steve straightened up. “Uh, okay, are you looking for anything in particular?” He winced internally at the formal tone of voice he had adopted.

Billy didn’t seem to mind, though, as he was also in business-mode. “I need something that says ‘I want you. I need you. I desire you carnally.’”

Hearing those words coming out from Billy’s mouth made Steve’s mind screech to a halt. His mouth fell open and he had to blink a couple of times to come out of his stupor. “Oh. That’s … graphic.” He winced again, visibly this time, because, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Um. I mean, the customer is always right, and all.” He attempted a laugh that sounded more like he was getting strangled, and powered through to avoid letting Billy speak. “Okay! Let’s see. Um. You could use mistletoe, for ‘kiss me’, and a rose for ‘passion’? And maybe, um, sweet pea for ‘pleasure’?”

Leaning on the counter now, Billy still didn’t smile. He held steady eye contact with Steve as he said, “How about ‘I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you. You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and you are everything I think about. It is becoming a problem, and my friends are starting to complain about the amount of time I spend talking about you.’”

Okay, wow. Maybe Steve was wrong before? Maybe it wasn’t a girlfriend that Billy was buying the flowers for, but a potential girlfriend? And now he was going in for the kill.

“That’s a … tall order.” Putting aside his own soul-crushing disappointment, he tried to keep his voice steady as his mind whirred. “I’d probably go with a calla for ‘beauty’, daffodils for ‘you’re the only one’ and primrose for ‘I can’t live without you’.” He thought for a second, and added, “And perhaps gladiolus, which means ‘give me a break’, I mean, for your friends’ reaction, although I’m not sure it’s normally used that way …”

“Right, right,” Billy said somewhat distractedly, staring intently at Steve’s mouth – probably uncomfortable with putting words to his feelings for his crush in front of someone who was still basically a stranger. “And how do I say ‘I can’t stop thinking about how I want you tie me to the bed and fuck me filthy all night long, and not quit even when I’m begging for mercy. I don’t want to be able to stand up the next morning’?”

Steve blinked again. “You … want … you want this person to … “

“Fuck me. Filthy. All night long.”

“Right. Yup. That’s what I …” Steve swallowed and cleared his throat. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Billy was still staring at Steve, but looking straight into his eyes now. And had he gotten closer? Steve was pretty sure he was closer than he’d been a minute ago. And was it getting hot in here?

“I … You’d need a cactus,” Steve said, thankfully without his voice breaking. “For ‘endurance’. And you could add some grass, I guess, for, um … ‘s-submission‘.” This wasn’t for a potential girlfriend, was it? Steve had gotten it so wrong. “And maybe some tulips for … um. ‘Perfect lover’.”

For the first time since Billy had entered the shop, a slow smile spread over his face. “‘Perfect lover’, huh?” he purred. “I like the sound of that. Add like twenty of those.”

“I, uh,” Steve said, face flaming. “I actually don’t have all of that in at the moment. I can do some of them, but not … not all of them.”

“That’s fine,” Billy said, his tongue darting out through his lips, and great, now it was Steve’s turn to stare at his lips when he spoke. “You get the gist. Make me a bouquet out of what you’ve got in stock, pretty boy. Something for wooing.”

It was actually somewhat of a relief to turn away from Billy today. Steve was almost shaky when he walked around the store, putting together flowers that usually wouldn’t go very well together, but trying to make them look good nonetheless. During it all, he could feel Billy’s eyes on him as he walked around the shop.

Eventually, he had a finished bouquet, which he brought to the counter. He didn’t dare look up at Billy, even as he counted the cost and told Billy his total. Handing over the money, Billy took the flowers for a second, and then promptly shoved them into Steve’s chest.

Startled, Steve grabbed the bouquet so he wouldn’t drop it, and his eyes darted up to meet Billy’s.

“What –?”

“For you,” Billy said, gruffly.

Steve’s brain stalled for the nth time. He mentally went through all the things that Billy had asked for today, and felt his face heat up. “For me?”

“Yes. You.”

“But … Wait, don’t you have a girlfriend?”

That actually seemed to throw Billy for a loop. He frowned and looked genuinely confused. “No? I’m … gay?” Immediately after, he winced. Not used to saying it out loud, perhaps. Steve sometimes did the same when he talked about his own bisexuality. “What made you think I have a girlfriend?”

“You kept asking for flowers that meant, like, ‘you have beautiful eyes’ and ‘I am charmed by you’ and stuff like that, what was I supposed to think?”

“I was flirting – with you!”

“You – what?”

Billy looked heavenwards and muttered under his breath, “Oh my god, I can’t believe Heather was right.”

“Who’s Heather?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

“Well, not my girlfriend!” Billy said, with great emphasis. “Heather is my best friend – my very lesbian best friend – and she said that you probably didn’t even know I was flirting with you.” He looked down, and was that a dusting of pink on his cheeks? Adorable. “She told me that I needed to go in here and be as clear as I could possibly be about my … about my intentions. Which, you know,” he nodded to the bouquet that Steve was still holding. The filthiest bouquet he had ever had the pleasure of putting together.

Steve felt light-headed. Probably because all the blood in his brain had rushed south.

“Well … those intentions were … very clear.” He cleared his throat. “But I actually think we forgot about the ‘filthy’ part.”

“Yeah?”

“M-hmm,” Steve said. “The flower language – surprisingly – doesn’t have anything for that but, you know, we do have daisies in the shop, and they stand for innocence and purity, so you know … You could always, like, burn one of those or something and spread the ashes over the rest of the flowers?” He gestured sprinkling something invisible. “As a finishing touch.”

Billy’s smile reemerged, with a – quite irresistible – mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“I like it. So … is that a yes to the date?”

“What date?” Steve said, letting a bit of snark come back into his voice. “You haven’t asked me yet.”

It only made Billy’s smile grow wider. “Would you, Steve, do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

Heart fluttering in his chest, Steve attempted to fight the twitching in his lips that wanted to bloom into a smile. Instead he raised his eyebrows and tried to play it cool. “Hmm. And what would we do on this date, if I say yes?”

Billy played along, his tongue peeking out again. “I was thinking dinner … maybe a movie of your choosing …”

“Classic date activity, I like it.”

“And then for us to go somewhere private where you can tie me to the bed and fuck me all night.”

Steve pointed a finger at him. “I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing you want me to fuck you filthy?”

“Oh yeah, in the absolute filthiest manner you can manage. Yep.”

“Well then,” Steve said and straightened up. Turned his back and ignored the small questioning noise that Billy let out as he walked off into the back of the shop. But he wasn’t gone long. When he came back – still holding the suggestive bouquet in one hand – he handed Billy one single flower he had dug out from a mixed bouquet that had originally been for a wedding. “Looking forward to it,” he said, biting his lip.

With a nod – and definitely blushing now – Billy took the flower.

An anemone, for ‘anticipation’.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove flip reverse it #flip reverse it 024 #stranger things #ihni writes

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ihni · 4 months ago

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Of pets, chapter 2/2

For @harringrove-flip-reverse-it day 5, prompt "Dog walks" (SFW prompt made sliiiighty NSFW)

~~~

(Read on AO3) (Chapter 1)

~~~

Jim was on his way home after work. He’d just left the station when he remembered that he’d planned to call Steve and ask him if he could pick El up the following Friday – the kid usually drove some of the boys home, and Jim had had to switch some shifts around and wouldn’t be able to make it.

Not particularly keen on turning back to the station just to use his phone, he decided to swing by instead. Harrington’s house was on the way home anyway, so it would save him time in the end.

Pulling up to the house, he parked on the side of the road – he would hopefully be out of there quickly – and walked down the long driveway to the house. He couldn’t see Harrington’s BMW around, but the door to the double garage was closed so the empty driveway didn’t mean that the kid wasn’t home.

He walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. As he stepped back and prepared to wait for someone to open, he heard what sounded like a muffled thud and something like a shout coming from somewhere inside the house. Now, Jim was a cop – a good cop. So when those sounds weren’t immediately followed by footsteps, he frowned and reached for the gun in his belt.

“Harrington?” he called. “You good?”

When there was no reply, he pulled his gun out and tried the door. It was unlocked, so he carefully made his way inside.

His trained senses catalogued everything that was out of the ordinary; there were a pair of beat-up Chucks haphazardly kicked off by the door, at the end of a neat row of more expensive sneakers. There was a jean jacket that was fraying at the seams hanging on a hook, which Jim had never seen Steve wear. And a glance into the kitchen showed two empty glasses and a pair of soda cans on the counter by the sink.

All these things pointed to another person being in the house. It could just be a friend, but Jim would rather be safe than sorry. Besides, if Steve was hanging out with a friend, why didn’t he reply?

“Steve?” Jim called again and made his way to the stairs on silent feet. “Are you in here?”

In the silence that followed, he thought he heard low voices coming from upstairs. When another thud came, he took the stairs two steps at the time. He found himself on the landing, gun at the ready. From here, he could hear hissing and shuffling from what he assumed was Steve’s room – incidentally, also the only room with the door closed.

He walked up to it and – after a brief pause to warn “I’m coming in!” – shouldered the door open.

Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he had to have heard Jim approach, jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around to face him. He was wearing jeans and a shirt with a rumpled collar. His hair was askew, he was barefoot on the carpet, and in his hand he was gripping … a leash.

The other end of the leash disappeared in the crack between the doorway and the closed door to the closet.

Jim’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh, hey Hop!” Steve said, voice cracking. His face was blotchy and red. “I didn’t … hear you there. What’s, uh, what’s up?”

A sound came from the closet, which most resembled a low whine.

“I think I should be asking you that question, son,” Jim said gruffly, but lowered the gun as it didn’t seem like anyone was in immediate danger. He turned his frown on Steve. “What’s going on?”

Steve, wearing the nervous look of any teenager about to lie to the Chief of Police, let out a fake-sounding laugh and said, “Well, I … Uh, you mean this?” He held up the end of the leash that he was still clutching. “I … I told you about my friend’s dog, right?”

“Hargrove’s dog,” Jim confirmed, and didn’t react when a sound came from the closet. “I remember.”

“Well, I’m, uh, dogsitting. And I was … just about to take him for a walk.”

“Uh-huh,” Jim said and raised one eyebrow as he looked Steve up and down, wordlessly drawing attention to the kid’s ruffled appearance. Years of experience had taught him that it was often easier to get a confession if he kept silent. Let the perpetrators talk themselves into a corner.

Steve let out another strained laugh, and attempted to smile. It mostly showed off his teeth. “I … was taking a nap first though. So I was sleeping when you showed up. Just woke up.”

“Uh-huh”, Jim repeated, and couldn’t help himself. “And did you keep the dog in the closet while you slept?” Ignoring the widening of Steve’s eyes, he went on, “Because I’m pretty sure that counts as animal abuse.”

He took a step towards the closet. Steve took a step to the side as if to stop him. Jim’s eyes narrowed further.

“Steve. Who’s in the closet?”

“No, I told you! It’s a … dog.”

So that was the story he was sticking with, huh? Giving the kid one more chance to spill, Jim waited for a second. But when nothing else was spoken, he shrugged as if saying ‘suit yourself’ and went for the closet.

Ignoring Steve’s “No, wait–!” he reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

It was obvious that the kid was trying to hide something, so he was prepared for anything – a shy girlfriend maybe, or a friend trying to hide with the booze, or possibly a real dog that was trapped in a closet – or he thought he’d been prepared for anything. The one thing he hadn’t expected to see was Billy Hargrove staring back at him with wide, fearful eyes.

Billy Hargrove, wearing only a pair of sweatpants – which looked suspiciously like they were worn backwards, like they’d been pulled on in a hurry – and with a leather collar around his neck. A familiar-looking leather collar. Which was what the other end of the leash was attached to.

There were bruises all over Hargrove’s chest. No, wait. On second thought, those were quite obviously hickies.

For a couple of heartbeats, no one moved or even seemed to breathe. Then Jim took decisive action.

By slamming the closet door shut again.

“Nope.”

“Hop –“ Steve started, and there was the same kind of fear in his voice that there had been in Hargrove’s eyes. Jim held up his hand to stop him and shook his head.

“I don’t wanna know.”

“We didn’t –“

Turning to Steve, Jim caught his eye. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. I don’t wanna know.”

But the kid was too upset to listen. “Please, Hop, don’t –“

Jim reached out and somewhat awkwardly pinched Steve’s lips closed, which shut him up effectively. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Jim said and nodded to the hallway outside the room. “I’m going to go. And you’re going to let … your dog …” A choked sound came from the closet, which Jim bravely ignored, “… out of the closet. Then we’re all going to forget this ever happened, and never speak of it again. Do you understand?”

He let go of Steve and raised his eyebrows until Steve – his face tomato red – nodded and managed a shaky “Yes.”

Clearing his throat, Jim repeated, in a slightly raised voice, “Do you understand?”

A beat, then a subdued and muffled “Yes sir” came from the closet.

“Great,” Jim said, slapping his thighs. “Awesome. All right. Let’s never do this again.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. He ignored the sound of Steve dashing for the closet and the frantic whispers that followed, and refused to let himself think of the implications of what he had just seen. As well as the implications of his previous interaction with Steve in the pet store. Instead, he walked downstairs, made sure to close the front door after him –making a mental note to tell the kid to lock the doors, goddammit – and then got back in the car.

He was halfway home before he allowed himself to take in the situation, and promptly barked out a laugh. ‘Billy’s dog’, Jim’s ass. And ‘take him for a walk’, sure.

Kids these days, really. They couldn’t even lie properly. Now, Jim would be the first to admit that his teenage years were far behind him, but he remembered being way better at lying than these kids.

He chuckled to himself the whole way back, and it wasn’t until he was back at the cabin that he remembered that he had planned to ask Steve about giving El a ride next Friday. Oh well. He could give the kid a call tomorrow. He had a feeling Steve wouldn’t refuse if he asked for a favor.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #jim hopper #stranger things #ihni writes #of pets #harringrove flip reverse it #flip reverse it 2024

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