#well. very PRE harringrove

[ihni]

Every weather is sweater weather in Hawkins

For Harringrove Harvest day 3: ”Claudia Henderson’s hand-knit sweater”

(Read on AO3)

~~~

“I’ll miss you.”

The voice is low, and coming from outside the partly-open kitchen window that is facing the back of the house. Claudia Henderson pauses on her way to the sink with a pile of plates in her hand and listens, because it’s not the voice of any of the kids – they were all accounted for in the living room, ten seconds ago – but whoever’s speaking sounds … sad. And tonight is supposed to be a pre-Christmas celebration; a night of family and friendship and cheerfulness. She doesn’t want anyone to be sad in her house, especially today. That’s why she insisted on cooking for everyone.

“I know,” another voice says, and this one she recognizes as Steve’s. Which means the last speaker must have been his friend, Billy Hargrove. Max’s brother, the same boy that the kids had such a hard time accepting in the beginning, for whatever reason. Claudia can’t imagine why. He seems like a sweetheart to her.

Steve continues, “I wish I didn’t have to go. But mom got it into her head that we’d spend Christmas together as a family, and –“

“No, no, I know,” the voice of Billy Hargrove comes through. “I’m happy for you. Getting to spend time with your parents, in Europe? Sounds awesome.”

“Won’t be so awesome without you. I wish I could take you with me.”

“I know. But it’s only two weeks.”

There’s silence for a while, and Claudia carefully sets the plates down on the formica countertop and takes a step closer to the window under the guise of reaching for the dish soap.

“Are you gonna be okay, Billy?”

There’s the sound of a laugh, and Claudia’s heart twists with how forced it sounds. “Of course, pretty boy. I think I can handle two weeks without you.”

“That’s not … I mean with your dad. Are you gonna be alright at home, if you can’t come to my place? I can leave you a key, if you want?”

“A key to …?”

“To my house.”

Billy’s voice softens when he says, “It’s alright. What reason would I have to go there, anyway, if you’re not there?”

There’s silence again, but this time it comes with the rustling of fabric and the sound of a kiss. It brings a fond smile to Claudia’s face.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Stevie. I’ll be alright. It’s just for a couple of weeks.” Another kiss. “You’ll be back in no time.” Another. “I can’t wait.”

“Me too.”

Someone calls for Claudia from the living room, and she puts down the dish soap. She can save the dishes for later. For right now, she has dinner guests to attend to and some plans to make.

~~~

It is a lovely evening, all around. Despite what she heard through the open window, the boys don’t let anything show when they come back from their “smoke break”. Claudia, naturally, pretends like she is none the wiser, but watches the boys as they hang out with the rest of Dustin’s friends. Steve is dragged right into the thick of things, of course – her Dusty is so fond of that boy, and by extension so is Claudia – and Billy keeps a little to himself but he looks content enough to sit in an armchair with a mug of eggnog (home-made and very good, if Claudia may say so herself; she used a recipe that was handed down to her by her mother) and watch the kids play their games. After a couple of minutes, his sister rolls her eyes at her friends’ antics and goes to squeeze in next to Billy in the armchair. Billy grumbles, but Claudia can’t help but notice that he doesn’t push her away. She also notices that while Billy’s gaze flits around the room, he seems to be watching Steve the most. And well, it is quite obvious to Claudia that Steve is watching him right back.

Boys. Subtle, they are not.

When the evening is approaching its end – when everyone has had their fill and more of food and drink and snacks and good company – Claudia makes sure to hug everyone goodbye before they leave. And if she hugs Billy and Steve a little bit longer than the others, well. She doesn’t think anyone notices.

They do notice when she steals a couple of hairs from their heads though, if the “Ow!” they let out is any indication, but she laughs and apologizes and says that their hair must have gotten tangled up in one of her rings, and it is soon forgotten.

She puts her plan into motion that very night. When the house is empty and the dishes are done and Dustin has gone to bed, Claudia takes the hairs – blonde and brunet – and carefully braids them together. She goes to her yarn basket and picks out a nice dark blue cotton/wool blend, brings out her knitting needles, sits down in her favorite chair in a well-lit corner of the living room, and starts knitting.

~~~

Christmas in the Hargrove-Mayfield house is … Well. Not something to write home about, even if Billy had had anyone left to write to, back in California.

It could be worse, he guesses. Susan loves Christmas, and Billy’s dad usually tries to keep his temper over the Holidays, which means less bruises for Billy. But it also means more tension, as his dad doesn’t have an outlet for all his frustrations over the course of several days. Billy will take what he can get, though. He’ll take these days of peace, knowing it’ll most likely cost him a blow-out some time in the time between Christmas and New Year.

It’s a farce, of course. One they all play along to. Neil pretends that they’re all picture perfect, when he makes them go to Church and have a family outing to the Christmas fair on the Sunday before Christmas. Susan plays along, only too happy to have the kind of husband that she deluded herself into thinking she’d get when she married Neil. Max rolls her eyes, but has learned enough by now not to rock the boat when the sea is calm. And Billy? Billy plasters a fake smile onto his face and says thank you for dinner and offers to help with the dishes before Neil can tell him, and he buttons his shirts almost all the way up and wears a small ring instead of a dangly earring and generally tries to keep his head down.

It’s easier that way.

He draws the line at caroling, though. Luckily for him, Neil doesn’t seem to expect him to join in when he drags his wife and daughter out to bond with some of their neighbors, so Billy gets a whole evening to himself in the house.

If Steve had been home, Billy would have gone over to his place. They’d have made some crappy food together, eaten in front of the TV, kissed a bit … But Steve is not home. Steve is in Prague, and has only been gone for two days.

Billy has been missing him since before he even left.

It’s fine. He’s fine. He managed just fine before he got together with Steve, and he’ll manage now. It’s just. Breaks from school are not Billy’s favorite time. Don’t get him wrong, he quite enjoys not having to do schoolwork, but he doesn’t quite enjoy having to stay in the house for an extended period of time. Back in Cali, he could go to his friends’ houses, or go to the beach or just hang around downtown. Here, he doesn’t really know anyone well enough to show up during the Holidays without there being a party – which there isn’t – and it’s too goddamned cold to just hang around somewhere outside.

To put it simply; when Steve’s not here, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He’s got nowhere to escape to. He can’t do anything but keep his head down and grit his teeth and play the part of the perfect son in the perfect little small town family.

It’s going to be a long two weeks.

He has just settled down in the couch – making the best out of his time alone by eating his heated-up dinner in the living room instead of the kitchen; something he is never allowed to do when his dad is home – when the doorbell rings.

He rolls his eyes and ignores it, turning his attention back to the TV. But it rings again. And again.

With a great big sigh, he heaves himself out of the couch and makes his way to the door. If it’s carolers, he’s gonna scream.

He’s only in a T-shirt and gym shorts, so the cold air hits him as soon as he opens the door, covering his skin in goosebumps.

Outside the door is … Dustin Henderson.

Billy frowns. “Max isn’t here,” he says, and starts to close the door. He is fine with the kids nowadays, and he likes to believe they are fine with him. That doesn’t mean that he is keen to hang out with them.

Before he can close the door, though, Henderson puts his foot inside to stop him. Billy graciously doesn’t slam the door shut anyway, but pauses. “What?”

“I’m not here for Max,” the kid says, grumpily. “Mom sent me. Said to give you this.” He hands Billy a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with red yarn. There’s a cardboard tag on it which says Merry Christmas Billy.

Billy takes it, out of surprise more than anything else. “Why?” he asks, dumbly.

“I don’t know,” Dustin says and rolls his eyes, as if his mother’s whims are beyond even his understanding. He indicates his backpack, which seems to be bulging. “But I have more deliveries to make, so. Bye.” Turning his back on Billy, he trudges back down the newly cleared walkway (Billy shoveled it this morning, as a way to keep his dad happy and also to get out of the house), and only belatedly throws a “Oh and merry Christmas, I guess” over his shoulder without even looking back.

Billy doesn’t bother answering. Instead, he closes the door and examines the parcel. It’s something soft, probably clothes of some sort. The paper crinkles when he presses down on it. Part of him wants to open it right away, but it’s only Christmas Eve and there’s something thrilling to know that he will have something to open tomorrow, too. He doesn’t put it under the tree, though. Instead, he goes into his room and places it under the bed. For safekeeping.

~~~

Christmas morning is about what Billy had expected. A slightly stilted family breakfast while they open presents – Billy gets a dress shirt from Susan that he’s pretty sure he’ll never have an occasion to wear, two slightly crumpled ten dollar bills from his dad, and a lighter which actually has a pretty cool skull logo on it from Max – and in the lull that follows Billy retreats to his room for a bit. He puts some music on, but keeps the volume low – it wouldn’t do to interrupt the Christmas music playing from the tinny radio in the kitchen. Then he takes out two more presents. Ones he wouldn’t want to open in front of his family.

The first one is from Steve, who gave it to him before he left with the promise that he would bring back something better from Europe. It’s a small box, the kind that jewelry comes in, and Billy’s heart rate speeds up as he opens it. For a second, he thinks it’s a ring, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. But then he sees that it’s not, not really. It’s a keyring, with a shiny metal lightning bolt attached to it. There’s a note, too. “For your key to the apartment we’ll get when we move in together”, it says. There’s a little heart drawn in the corner, and Billy’s own heart does something complicated in his chest.

Suddenly, he misses Steve so much that he aches with it.

The second present is the one that Henderson brought him, apparently from Claudia Henderson herself. Billy likes Claudia – she is friendly and caring and has never held the fact that he used to be an asshole over him, like the rest of the Party. He flirts with her when he’s over, but she just laughs fondly and leaves him to it without acknowledging it. She’s safe.

But they’re hardly close enough to exchange Christmas gifts. Or so Billy had thought.

Tearing the paper open, his fingers brush over something soft. After pulling it out and holding it up in front of him, he finds that it’s a sweater. A knitted sweater – dark navy blue and simple in design. It looks warm and cozy, but also kind of stylish, and from the looks of it it’s about the right size.

He stands up and goes to stand in front of his mirror. Holds the sweater up in front of his chest. Runs his fingers over it and admires the way the color seems to accentuate his hair and bring out the blue in his eyes. Billy doesn’t usually do knitwear, but Hawkins winters get cold and for something knitted, this sweater isn’t actually that bad.

On an impulse, he pulls it over his head. He’s only wearing a T-shirt underneath it, and is half expecting it to feel prickly – he had a knitted sweater when he was younger that itched like crazy – but it’s not. It’s soft, and strangely warm and …

He runs his hand over his own chest, to feel the texture of it on his skin. It feels like safety. It feels like a hug.

No, really. It feels like a hug. And not just any hug.

Closing his eyes, he can almost hear the whispers of Steve’s voice. Can feel the ghost of his boyfriend’s hands encircling his torso, and feel the warmth from another body at his back, as if he’s being spooned. It’s almost enough to make him imagine Steve’s calm breath on the back of his neck.

He opens his eyes and is almost surprised that he can’t see Steve behind him in the mirror. Because he can still feel him. There’s a smile on Billy’s face that he hasn’t seen in a long time – a smile, not a smirk or a leer. He wonders, absently, if this is how he looks like to Steve.

It’s weird. That a sweater can remind him so much of his boyfriend, when none of them have made a habit out of wearing knitwear. But he can’t deny that wearing this one feels a little like coming home. He decides, then and there, that he’s not taking it off for the rest of the day.

~~~

It helps. Keeping up appearances during Christmas in the Hargrove house is stressful at best, but wearing the sweater somehow makes it more manageable. He doesn’t know how, but it makes him feel less alone, somehow. He even finds himself smiling when he’s helping Susan by setting the table for dinner – because it almost feels as if Steve is there with him, nudging him out of the way and laughing softly in his ear. Unfortunately, Neil sees him and barks, “What are you so happy about?” and Billy has to school his face into something less love-struck.

“Nothing,” he says, shrugging. “It’s just … Christmas.”

He’s in luck. Neil’s face is getting red and he doesn’t look pleased about Billy’s answer, but at that very moment Susan flutters into the kitchen and, having obviously heard what Billy said, sends a blinding smile his way. “I know, there’s just something about the holidays, isn’t it?” Susan loves Christmas. Billy hasn’t been able to relate until now.

He keeps the sweater on for the entire night. While they have dinner, while Billy and Max do the dishes (without arguing, even – Billy goes as far as putting some foam on his chin and pretending to be Santa Claus, which makes Max laugh), and while they all sit down in the living room to watch some Christmas movie.

Neil, Susan and Max sit in the couch. Billy sits in the armchair off to the side. It’s his usual spot for family time like this – always on the outside, never fully a part of the household. Normally, that would make him feel a complicated mix of emotions – because it’s not like he’d really want to sit squeezed in next to Susan or his dad – but today, it doesn’t bother him at all. Because today, he’s wearing Claudia’s home-knit blue sweater, and when he crosses his arms over his chest it sort of feels like they’re someone else’s hands.

He is so distracted by it that he barely knows what goes on in the movie.

When it’s over, Billy knows that his Christmas obligations have been fulfilled, and asks to be excused. Neil grants it, barely looking up, and Billy goes back to his room, where he lies down on top of the covers and looks up at the dark ceiling. Colored lights from the neighbors’ Christmas display light up parts of Billy’s room at random intervals. Outside his window, the snow falls down slowly over Hawkins and covers the world in white.

He rolls over to the side and closes his eyes. Imagines Steve’s arms around him, hugging him close. It feels real enough that he can almost imagine Steve’s heartbeat against his back. It makes him feel safe, and the beat of it lulls him to sleep.

He falls asleep like that, and dreams of Steve.

~~~

There’s something strange about Claudia’s sweater. Not bad-strange. Good-strange. But still. Feeling your boyfriend’s presence whenever you wear it is not exactly a natural thing, Billy thinks.

That doesn’t stop him from wearing the sweater to bed every night. And Steve keeps appearing in his dreams.

~~~

Two days before New Year’s Eve, Neil’s patience for Billy runs out, which is longer than Billy had been expecting. Max is out with her friends, apparently learning how to ski, and Susan is nowhere to be found when Neil finally snaps and lays into Billy for playing his music too loud and leaving dirty dishes in the sink – not caring that it was Max’s turn to wash them.

After, Billy’s got a smarting left side of his face and is tasting blood from where his teeth cut into his cheek, but he looks in the mirror and doesn’t think it’ll leave any marks. Even though he’s on break, Neil is usually aware enough not to leave too much visible damage on his face. Instead he normally concentrates on Billy’s torso, which he’ll be able to cover up with clothes.

Today was no different. Billy got pushed up against a wall while Neil hissed accusations at his face, and then he got a sucker punch to the gut which made him double over. But he barely felt the hits that came after that.

Neil must have been holding back this time, because when Billy lifts up the hem of his sweater (Claudia’s sweater) to inspect the damage in front of the mirror in his room, he finds that there isn’t a mark on him. The pain from the hits has already faded, and it doesn’t hurt at all to breathe or move. He tests it by taking a deep breath, and reaching up and out with both his arms. Nothing. Not a twinge.

Neil must be losing his touch.

~~~

When the break is over, and the Sunday before they’re due back at school, they have another get-together at the Henderson house. The official excuse is to have a nice ending to the break, but the unofficial excuse is to celebrate Steve getting back from Europe and having everyone back in the same state again – Lucas’ family spent New Year’s with relatives in Pennsylvania, and he only returned two days ago.

Billy hasn’t actually met Steve since he got back. He and his parents flew in late last night, and Billy hasn’t dared to call his house in fear of disturbing him or his parents if they’re sleeping. Billy himself has never flown anywhere and hasn’t ever experienced jet-lag, but Steve assures him that it’s the worst.

There is too much nervous energy buzzing under his skin all day, and not even wearing the blue sweater can calm him down. Wearing it today almost itches, with how much he longs to have Steve’s arms around him for real. But they’re not supposed to be at the Henderson house until five.

At four, Max barges into his room. “We going, or what?” She hasn’t met with Lucas in almost a week, so she is almost as anxious to leave as Billy.

Almost.

He doesn’t even scold her for barging into his room, instead he just nods and gets up, grabbing his keys and his jacket as he goes.

They’re the first ones to arrive at Claudia’s house, which he knew they would be since it’s just a five minute drive. Max and Henderson chat loudly while she takes off her winter gear, and then they disappear into Henderson’s room, leaving Billy with Claudia in the hallway. She looks at him, wearing the sweater, and smiles warmly.

Before she can say anything, Billy speaks up. “Thank you,” he says. “For the sweater. It’s … it’s perfect. My new favorite.” He swallows. “Thank you.” It’s just words – not enough to convey how much this one piece of clothing has managed to get him through the last couple of weeks, but he needs to say it anyway. Needs to try.

She seems to get it. Her smile softens. “You liked it, then?”

“I loved it,” he says. “I mean, I love it. Present tense.”

She laughs and opens her arms, and he can’t help himself; he takes a couple of steps and ends up in her arms, with her hugging him and him hugging back. There’s no one here to see him, after all, and despite the strange way the sweater has made him feel embraced for the better part of two weeks, it pales in comparison to Claudia Henderson’s arms around him, and her gently patting his back.

“I’m glad,” she finally says, still smiling, when she releases him. “Now, what do you say about helping me prepare dinner?”

Billy can only nod, and give a shaky smile of his own.

~~~

The others show up, one by one, but it’s not until Billy hears a familiar car in the driveway that he bothers to look up.

“I’m gonna … go smoke,” he says by means of explanation, and leaves Claudia and Mrs Byers and mini-Byers in the kitchen, where they had been helping put everything in order.

For once, he has no intention of smoking. Instead he just gets out on the porch in time to see Steve’s BMW roll to a stop behind Mrs Byer’s little green Pinto. Steve gets out of the car, struggling to bring a handful of bags with him, and Billy’s heart jumps in his chest at the sight of him.

He’s beautiful. His hair is perfect, he’s wearing a new coat that brings out the width of his shoulders, and under the jacket …

“Nice sweater,” Billy says, not even pretending to play it cool as he walks down the steps to meet Steve by his car. Steve turns, and at the sight of Billy his face splits in a grin that makes warmth spread through Billy’s veins. A second later, Billy’s words seem to register, and Steve looks down at himself. Pinches the dark red, almost maroon sweater that he’s wearing under his open coat.

“Thanks,” he says. “It was a gift.” When he looks back up, he seems to notice what Billy is wearing for the first time, and his smile widens. “I see you got one too.”

Billy walks up to him. Reaches up to run his knuckles over Steve’s sweater. “Yeah. Yours is as soft as mine is.” When he looks up, Steve is right there. Looking into his eyes. “It’s gonna sound weird, but it made me think of you.”

“No,” Steve says and reaches out, too. Lets his hand feel along the sleeve of Billy’s sweater, and then up his arm. “Doesn’t sound weird at all. It was the same thing for me, actually.”

“I wore it to bed,” Billy confesses, and doesn’t know why. “Kept dreaming of you.”

“Me too,” Steve breathes. And that’s it. Billy can’t stop himself from dashing forward and pressing a kiss to Steve’s lips, not even caring that they’re in front of the Henderson house and that they can be seen by anyone who walks by or looks out the window.

“I’ve missed you.”

Steve kisses back, almost fervently. “I missed you too.”

And Billy finally, finally – after two long weeks – gets to feel Steve’s arms around him for real.

~~~

In the house, Claudia peeks out through the little window in the front door.

She knows that her particular brand of magic is small-scale. Nothing big, nothing life-changing. She can’t fight monsters or stop time or bring back the dead. But she can bake courage into cookies and bring comfort with her hugs, and with a little bit of effort and a few strands of hair, she can weave love into her knitting, so that two people who are separated by an ocean and a twelve-hour flight can still feel close when they need each other.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #claudia henderson #harringrove #harringroveweek #harringrove harvest #ihni writes #every weather is sweater weather in hawkins #claudia henderson's hand-knit sweater #honestly she is even more magic for managing to knit two whole sweaters in a matter of days #the woman is a superhero

[spicyghosts]

Harringrove, A/B/O AU

Ft. omega sw billy

So I've been thinking about this AU where o!Billy is a sex worker. He mostly specializes in helping alphas through their ruts. It's intensive, and dangerous, work but it pays well and makes it so he only has to work a few weeks a year to get the money he needs.

Plus most of the people that hire this sort of service are richer and it means that Billy gets to spend a week away from his father in his client's big fancy houses, even if he usually doesnt get to see much outside the bedroom.

In this AU this kind of sex work is in a legal grey area, and omegas who are infertile/unable to get pregnant can get more work/get paid better. This is because ruts can make many forms of birth control less effective and people that hire these sex workers like the extra assurance that they wont get baby trapped or anything.

Billy has medical paperwork saying he's infertile, maybe bc of an accident or something when he was younger? idk.

Billy's got a decent set up going, regular clients, a good reputation in the right circles, enough money for him to get by and save up to try and get out of his father's house as soon as possible.

But then things go to shit somehow and Neil moves them out to Hawkins (and takes all of Billy's savings).

Billy needs to rebuild his business from the ground up, only this time with no pre existing contacts and in a location where there just isnt as much work. Hawkins has almost none, and getting established with clients in Indianapolis is difficult when no one there knows you.

And with Neil making him pay rent and stuff, Billy gets a bit desperate.

So when he gets a call from someone in Hawkins looking to hire him for their alpha son he is very relieved. When he shows up to the big fancy house for the initial meeting, it does not go well.

There are a bunch of red flags and stuff that is normally an immediate deal breaker for him. Like, he's supposed to be able to meet his alpha clients before they go into rut but apparently the son of the woman who hired him is already in rut. And the parents want to change the terms of the deal last minute, and a bunch of other stuff.

But they're offering a lot of money, and he's desperate. So he doesnt call it off, and he doesn't leave.

The parents ditch before he can even ask them all the questions he has. Something about a work trip.

When Billy heads upstairs to find out that the alpha he's been hired to take care of is Steve, who he already met through school and fought that night at the Byer's, he almost just turns around and leaves then and there.

But, again, he's desperate for the money.

So he stays, and convinces himself that he does it because he already knows that he can take Steve in a fight, and definitely not because Steve seems absolutely miserable and obviously needs someone to take care of him since his parents fucked off to who knows where.

It does not go smoothly. But in the overall scheme of things it does go well.

Steve makes sure that Billy is hired again for his next rut, and that one goes even better. Then Steve asks Billy if he can hire him outside of his ruts too, and Billy probably would have said no back in California. But he's still having trouble finding clients here other than Steve, and he needs to try and save up again if he's ever going to have a chance to get out (and also he likes sleeping with Steve, but he's not going to acknowledge that aspect of it). So he agrees.

And... ? idk thats all i've got so far.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #harringrove #omega billy hargrove #alpha steve harrington #sw billy hargrove #not a neil hargrove friendly post

[queer-coded-camaro-driver]

Prompt idea maybe: "You look so pretty when you cry."

sorry this took me a minute, but the right scenario needed time to formulate

Harringrove pre-relationship, post S2/pre S3, marijuana

---

He’s stoned as hell when he says it, of course. Otherwise he would never have opened his mouth and let something so totally idiotic come flying out in front of Hawkins’ notorious bad boy, Billy Hargrove. But they both show up at one of the quarry’s lesser known spots at the same time and both outright refuse to leave… So the somewhat-rivals begrudgingly agree to share some of Eddie Munson’s better shit and ignore the tension brewing between them. At least for a few glorious hours.

Until Steve exhales a cloud of blue smoke and says offhandedly: “You look so pretty when you cry.”

Billy’s head snaps up, expression grim – he’s borderline murderous already. The blond’s upper lip curls back until he’s snarling, until Steve is staring down a Billy who’s more wolf than boy. “What the fuck did you say to me, Harrington?”

Steve blinks. Shit. How is he supposed to answer that when he hadn’t even meant to open his mouth in the first place!? How the hell is he supposed to tell the guy who beat the shit out of him a few weeks ago that he looked stunning from below–

In retrospect, obviously. At the time of their altercation, Steve had been angry and frightened and was trying his best to protect the kids; which is, ironically enough, also what Billy had been trying to do. He’d been trying to protect Max from an entire room full of strange guys.

Which, like, fair enough.

But even after the Billy’s-fist shaped bruises have healed and the cuts fade to nothing, Steve’s mind keeps wandering back to those awful but electrifying moments before unconsciousness. The memory is glorious: blood dripping from that statuesque nose, tears forming at the corners of the younger boy’s wrathful blue eyes as he drives his fist into Steve’s face over and over. The howl Steve saw but never quite managed to hear, straining like distant thunder in the back of Billy’s throat. 

He’d been pissed at Billy, going out of his way to avoid the blond until Max filled him in on what went on at their house on Cherry Road. Staying mad about something as stupid as a misunderstanding in the wake of El’s incredible victory and this new information seems childish. Stupid. Steve has seen the end of the world and faced it head on, so what’s one equally lonesome asshole from California, really?

“Hey, pretty boy, you gonna fuckin’ answer me?”

“Oh!” Steve shakes his head and bites his bottom lip before exhaling. “Right… I mean, you have like–” Fuck. “–I don’t know dude, I’m high as fuck!”

“Well that’s kind of a weird thing to say, man.”

“I know that, Billy. Christ, you think I wanna sound this stupid all the time? Kids make fun of me when I open my mouth.”

Unexpectedly, the blond boy’s frown deepens. He starts rolling another joint on the hood of Steve’s car. “That’s not very nice of them, considering how much of your trust fund you’ spend on gas to tote them everywhere. If I were one of those brats, I’d be worshiping the ground you walk on.”

Steve gives Billy a look of outright awe. 

Did Eddie lace this shit? Am I dreaming? 

“Huh?”

“I rarely see you around without one of those nerdy little brats hanging off your jacket, so you clearly spend a lot of time helping them out and taking them places. They think it’s okay to treat you like crap just because they’ve read a few more books and gone to a few less parties? Dumbasses.”

“When I said you’re pretty when you cry, I mean your eyes get more intense. You have nice eyes for, like, a dude. I guess.”

Now it’s Billy’s turn to stare at Steve in shock. 

He lights up the joint and takes a drag before passing it to Steve. “Thanks, Harrington. That’s kind of nice, in a weird way.”

“It’s already been established that I’m pretty weird.”

“And sweet.”

“What?” 

“You’re sweet,” Billy reiterates, taking the joint back. “But you didn’t hear me say shit.”

“Course not,” Steve smiles. He’s really stoned; his head is full of cotton and he has the deep desire to reach out and touch Billy’s golden curls. “Hey, can I touch your hair?”

“Can I touch yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, sure.”

They each reach out with one hand. Billy tucks what he can behind Steve’s ears and Steve tugs gently at one of Billy’s ringlets only to watch it bounce back into place. Quietly, so quietly it’s barely audible, the older boy whispers: “What are we doing?”

Billy shrugs, fingers still tangled in loose brown locks. “Dunno. But I kinda like it.”

“Me, too.”

“Cool… Do you really think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

They watch the sun rise over the far edge of the quarry in silence, shoulders pressed tightly together. They’re almost sober again, and Steve isn’t sure if things will go back to the way they were yesterday or if this new sense of understanding is permanent. The tension in the air hasn’t returned and he’s terrified to think that it may. 

He doesn’t want to lose this side of Billy.

“Hey, Hargrove…?”

“Yeah, pretty boy?” 

“Are we– Does this mean we can stop being assholes to each other?” Steve asks.

Billy laughs, bright and loud and so fucking beautiful that Steve’s chest aches. His gorgeous blue eyes go squinty and thin as his smile grows, slivers of seafoam iris showing through. “Yeah, Harrington. I think we can figure out a way to be friends.”

Steve’s grin is unstoppable. Genuine. Something is stirring in his heart like an animal waking from hibernation. 

“Cool.”

#harringrove #harringrove ficlet #anonswers #anon prompt fill #harringrove prompt fill #harringrove fluff #marijuana tw #billy hargrove #steve harrington #snark #flirting

[fizzigigsimmer]

@mania-mono I had to move my reply so I can give this my best shot at an answer without worrying about a word limit. So here I go, and pardon any pre-coffee typos.

I don’t speak for every Billy fan, because I can’t, nor do I speak for every POC because I can’t do that either. Blanket statements, generalities, and opinions grounded in the belief that what you see in front of you - which can only ever be a sample size - is everything, leads to closed mindedness. We are all vulnerable to these things. I think it is human nature to accept what we see and what we are told, in order to make friendly in our groups. So that we feel accepted as well as acceptable and to never think beyond that.

So I understand where opinions like “People only care about Billy because Dacre is attractive [and white]” come from. Within those opinions I can hear the faint echos of social discourse that I as a woman of color have had to bring to the table at one time or another, and I recognize that there is a merit of thought there, that I am 100% sure some fans need to reckon with.

I will never be the person sitting out here trying to disprove that the general fandom is suddenly unproblematic and completely free of the persuasion of whiteness combined with attractiveness and a preference for men.

This black girl will certainly never tell you that she hasn’t run into Billy friendly hot takes and writing that did have whiffs of white washing and erasure that made her uncomfortable and irritated at times. I have no reason to be afraid or to hide from that fact because it’s my lived reality. Every day in every fandom, in every ship. It’s my reality. It sucks. And I am confident and grounded enough in my own thinking to say something when I feel it needs to be said, or to just move on and find something better to read for my own peace of mind.

Yes, some Billy fans are problematic. But that is not my whole experience nor even half of it, and that matters.

Because I will also tell you that in my year or more of engaging in Harringrove fandom I have experienced that type of blindness and bias less than I have in other fandom spaces I have taken part in.That’s why I am here. I do not subject myself to being in places that make me consistently uncomfortable.

My empathy for the character brought me, and I stay because it’s a lovely place to explore my thoughts & feelings and make friends. For the most part I have found this pocket of fandom to be filled with nice people who actually do think through the characters flaws and have conversations about culture and social issues as often as any other fandom space. We bond, we have fun, and occasionally I might get into a debate with someone who I disagree with or disagrees with me about how we perceive the character’s flaws and their cultural impact.

I will tell you that I avoid many other subsections of Stranger Things fandom because my experience was that the balance is not the same in other tags. Because I felt consistently attacked, provoked, and silenced. Not just where it comes to discussions about race, but also disability, fat phobia, and my experiences of trauma and surviving abuse.

The problem I see a lot in fandom is that people are very good at manipulating others. There are whole communities that thrive on the basis of taking popular progressive opinions and using it to bully others for their entertainment or to control their behavior, or both. They rely on the public memory of the valuable work other people have done within culture and use those talking points to invoke fear and shame in their peers for their own selfish reasons. To feel good in the moment. For more reblogs. To feel like they’re part of the winning “team”. To feel like they’re meeting requirements of acceptable behavior. And for many more reasons I’m sure.

Whatever their reason, these folks know when they type out, “people only like Billy because Dacre is attractive”, that most people will instantly remember every discussion they ever sat through on the topic of bias and think ‘I don’t want to be that guy’. Because that’s natural and good and without those natural and good instincts we couldn’t be manipulated into a fear response. But the reality is even just a little bit of critical thinking would make it obvious how biased and unreasonable this take is.

When I hear “People only...” no mater what follows, a little yellow warning light goes off in the back of my mind. Because yes we can joke about certain things and make dumb memes for the fun, but when it comes to making a serious judgment, “People only” is a dangerous place to start. More people need to remember that.

Because I don’t think anyone actually needs to spend a great deal of time talking to Billy fans or researching much of anything at all to debunk this theory. If you replace Billy’s name with any aspect of his character that a person might relate to it falls apart. Because they are there to be related to. And if they are there to be related to, you’d have to be carrying some deep seeded rage and wearing some thick ass blinders to stick to the argument that you truly believe that nothing but white male attractiveness matters to anyone.

“People only care about that teenager because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that child, whose mother left, because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that blue collar boy because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that child of divorce...”

“People only care about that boy who was forced to move towns right in the middle of high school because...”

“People only care about that kid whose dad was abusing him because...”

“People only care about that kid who was dragged into the dark by a monster one night and violated because....”

I think the ridiculousness as well as the danger of this thought process speaks for itself.

I think that if someone finds it easy to believe a blanket statement like “People only care about Billy because Dacre is hot,” and can’t think up a single other reason someone else might relate to the character and talk about it honestly while defending their opinion, that’s their problem and not mine or yours. Either this is someone who doesn’t think much for themselves and is just parroting others, or someone who knows what they are saying probably isn’t actually true, but doesn’t care because the aim is to hurt some and manipulate others.

#Just my opinion #thoughts #on me liking Billy just because he's hot #tw: fandom discource #tw: fandom wank #Billy Hargrove #thanks for asking and I hope this was clear #I am not a morning person lol

[clarytee]

Hear me out. I listened to „Unholy“ for the first time today and here‘s my Harringrove (-son) headcanon.

CW: sex work, cheating, unhealthy dynamics

Steve is a regular at the strip club. And he‘s not content with just looking anymore, Billy notices. He‘s seen him slip out the backdoor with Eddie more than once after Eddie‘s sets. Hopefully the snob pays well, Billy thinks.

He‘s seen the type a million times: pillar of the community. Probably with a sizable inheritance in the bank. Wife and children. Still very much into dick. Able to pay himself out of almost any sticky situation.

That‘s where he usually stopped his train of thought to keep his blood from boiling. He hated the type.

Of course there‘s no ring on his finger when he pushes up to the bar and orders his next drink from Billy. But Billy can practically see the outlines of its imprint in the dark. And he lets Steve know as much when he tries to get in his pants.

Or:

Billy‘s a bar tender, Eddie‘s a stripper and occasional sex worker, Steve is a family man but really wants to fuck Billy. Billy is many things but there‘s one thing he is not: a home wrecker.

Steve is stubborn and Billy is persistent, slowly but surely making Steve address his bullshit. But. They like each other. They‘re doomed, they make no sense, they hit each other where it hurts. But they can’t seem to avoid each other.

Can Steve navigate getting out of a life he built but never truly wanted (apart from kids) and live with himself and the hurt he caused? (Starting out very much with pre redemption arc Steve)

Can Billy stay true to himself and the boundaries he‘s finally learned to set?

We‘ll never know because I‘ll probably never write this.

What we do know for sure though is that they both fuck Eddie.

#harringrove

[thatgirlwithasquid]

Harringrove Week - Summer Rain at Skull Rock

(This fic is also posted on my AO3 account: here)

It also fits the prompt ‘Hawkins Community Pool Shuts Down For The Day’ but I’ll be doing that again tomorrow anyway because I like that prompt.

Pre-Season/Series 03 | Fluff | Implied/Referenced Sex (but you see nothing) | Kissing | Kissing in the Rain 

Words: 2,089

-

Summer in Hawkins gets hot. It gets very hot. The kind of hot where your clothes cling to your skin and your head aches from the heat. The kind of day where a cloudless sky means the shelter of your home is a much better bet than braving the glare outside.

On summer days you see mothers slathering their kids in suncream before they head out to get icecream or to have a picnic. On summer days people pile into the pool, splashing and screaming and squealing, desperate for a reprieve in the form of even a splash of that chlorinated water. 

Steve goes, too, on days he’s not working. He watches from behind his shades as the mothers swipe sun cream onto their kids' faces like warpaint before they run, armband adorned, into the war waiting to happen. Wisely, most parents sit on the sidelines until the lifeguards call it and the kids have to vacate the water so that the adults can have a calmer swim.

Steve tends to sit on the sides, too. He claims a couple of chairs and tosses the kids’ shit on one, lounging on the other. Sometimes Steve does join the fun, joining in the splash battles Dustin and Lucas always start. Most of the time he just tries to enjoy the limited shade the parasols offer. 

Robin comes with them sometimes. Her time is split fifty-fifty between swimming and lounging. They talked a lot at their job at Scoops, and, oddly enough, now here they are, best buds - well, tied with Dustin cause Steve has a soft spot for the little nuisance. They gossip about the other Scoops employees, the customers they get at work, school life, Steve’s ‘inability’ to tell when a girl is hitting on him during his shifts. They also joke about how they’re just here to check out the lifeguards. And it’s half-true for Steve, at least. He just sure hopes Robin and him don’t have eyes for the same one…

You see, the thing is, Steve can, despite what Robin’s whiteboard tally may suggest, figure out when a girl is flirting at him during his shift. He can always tell. He’s Steve The Hair Harrington - as Robin keeps liking to remind him! He knows. He just thinks it’s a little typical that girls are showing more of an interest now he’s not trying to flirt with them. He doesn’t want to flirt with the random girls. He’s got eyes for someone else.

He’s not the only one, either. Steve’s not blind, he sees the way the girls stare and, more disturbingly, the grown women pose. He likes to think he’s not a jealous person… but he is, he totally is and he knows it. After all, that shit with Nancy and Jonathan? Yikes. Not his best move. So, yeah, maybe Steve is slightly inclined to glare at Mrs Wheeler from across the pool time to time because she keeps staring. He mostly manages to restrain himself, though, by reminding himself that they’re not the ones Billy Hargrove grins at from across the pool.

And they’re certainly not the ones that get pulled into the locker room, or showers, or even, on one memorable occasion, the place where they keep the chemicals for things that, frankly, are probably arguably public indecency. 

Steve Harrington has been dating Billy Hargrove for three months.

They keep it mostly on the down low, other than the impromptu kissing in any half-concealed place, and the frankly concerning amount of times that has escalated to something a little less PG. Steve and Billy don’t flirt in public, or go on dates to diners. Their relationship isn’t traditional like any of the other ones Steve has ever been in, and it’s absolutely nothing like Nancy.

Their relationship is sneaking in each other's windows at midnight to steal a few hours pressed together and gasping into each other’s mouths, or whispering conversations and tracing featherlight fingers across sunkissed skin. Their relationship is driving - read ‘speeding’, because Steve has not managed to talk Billy out of being an absolute maniac on the road - through the streets on the edge of town at sunset. Their relationship is sitting at the top of the quarry that no one has dared go to since the not-actually-Will incident and laughing at stupid shit. Their relationship is stolen moments and fleeting glances and it’s theirs.

Sure, Steve would like to be able to walk up to the guy and bury his face into his shoulder with no regards for who’s watching, but that’s just not possible in a town like Hawkins. It’s just not possible with Billy’s father - not that Steve’s would be happy with it either. So they settle for heated stares across a community pool, and it still burns hotter than any time Steve had flirted with Nancy without a care given to who saw or heard. It’s better because it’s Billy and the guy is a fucking piece of art, even if at first he was pretty damn pissed at himself for being so into the asshole.

Max knows, because of course Max knows. Neither of them has said anything, and she hasn’t either. But she knows. And Steve knows she knows, and it’s oddly cool. Steve didn’t think he was possessive, but he can’t deny the little bit of smugness he gets from knowing that someone knows he’s the guy who claimed Billy Hargrove.

Billy, however, is incredibly fucking posessive. What, with the dragging Steve into whatever dark corner he can to thoroughly melt his brain because ‘Can’t have you forgetting just how good a thing you got going here, Pretty Boy’? Then there’s how he always has a hand on him, an arm over his shoulder, something whenever they’re together. And how, when Steve tells him about Robin bullying him again because he didn’t make a move on whatever random girl flirted with him that day, Billy practically growls out ‘Well, they’re gonna have to get lost, because you’re mine’ - which always makes Steve’s stomach swoop.

So they keep stealing their moments, keep telling each other with prolonged stares how much they want to be together right then, how much they want to talk, and touch, and taste, even if they can’t. 

They can’t always, though. Life gets in the way. Billy has to work, Steve has to work. Billy has to babysit Max, Steve has to mother a group of six shitheads… which also happens to include Max. Basically, they have other commitments, so some days they only see each other for twenty minutes between their shifts ending and whatever their next respective tasks are - and Billy makes those minutes mind blowing.

As of today, Steve hasn’t seen Billy in three days. Three. Whole. Days. And it’s about the worst experience of his life.

They’d planned to see each other at the pool during Billy’s shift. Make eyes for a while before sneaking off to the bathrooms to get more handsy than is publicly acceptable in any situation. But, for some reason, it’s raining. Not just a gentle patter, either; it’s raining buckets out there - it’s as if, to make up for the cloudless sky from the last few days, the sky had decided to save up all its tears and cast them down all at once. 

So, yeah, the pool is closed, and Steve is inside, staring at the raindrops hammering against his own pool mutinously because what the hell is he supposed to do now? Steve was supposed to be able to spend today gawking at his boyfriend and maybe getting off somewhere else they shouldn’t - Steve thinks Billy has a list of inappropriate places he wants to fuck Steve because it’s rarely ever the same place twice. But, no. The rain.

He’s so bored and pissed off that he’s almost considering calling up Dustin to bitch at for the sake of something to occupy his now disgustingly empty time, but then he hears it. A familiar rumble of an engine and a car pulling up his drive.

Steve’s grin is manic as he scrambles to get himself together.

Within a handful of minutes he’s shoved his feet into some shoes, shrugged on his denim jacket - the one he stole from Billy last week - and is throwing open his front door.

Billy is leaning against the side of his car, clad in only jeans, a half-buttoned shirt and his boots like the downpour currently matting his curls doesn’t so much as register to him. Not that Steve really cares, either, since he barely remembers to throw closed and lock his front door before he’s sprinting out to meet his boyfriend. 

His boyfriend, who grins down at him with that familiar feral look. That familiar feral look that heats even further when his eyes flick down to the jacket that is currently getting drenched across Steve’s shoulders. 

“Get in the car,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve doesn’t even hesitate before he’s sliding into the passenger seat.

The car hums back to life and Billy is pulling out of Steve’s driveway and down the road, away from that achingly empty house. Steve can’t take his eyes off of him. Not for a second. He’s too entranced with the way rain glints like diamonds in his eyelashes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says into the empty air between them.

Billy’s grin is smug and taunting.

“Oh, princess, I know.”

Steve snorts out a surprised laugh.

“Where are we even going?” he asks through his grin.

“You’ll see.”

-

Billy pulls his car up along a stretch of empty road. There’s nothing here other than trees for as far as the eye can see - that being up until the bend in the road - but Steve thinks he knows where they’re going. After all, he’s one of the guys who put it on the map in the first place.

Steve and Billy don’t go to Skull Rock often, despite their reputations as ladies’ men and their habit of getting handsy in any cliché place that could possibly come to mind. That isn’t for any lack of wanting to go there and kiss under that famed shape. No, they simply avoid it because it’s too popular, and they can’t afford to get spotted. 

Other than that one time they drunkenly wandered past the spot after some party they both went to, and then secretly scarpered off from together, they’ve never been there together.

But today it’s pouring, so no horny teenagers will be out getting drenched just to make out at The Spot. No horny teenagers, that is, other than Steve and Billy.

When their car doors thunk closed behind them, Billy strides round the car and takes Steve’s jaw in hand to tilt him into a bruising kiss before clasping their hands together and leading him along as they weave through the trees. It’s not an easy trek, mostly because they keep slipping and sliding in the mud beneath their feet as they try to walk. It’s also partially because of how they keep stopping to push one another up against some tree trunk to brush their lips together briefly, leaving them giddy and breathless and half forgetting that they even had a destination in the first place.

When they do get there, though, Billy grins at him, threading his fingers through Steve’s belt loops and tugging him along as he walks back, back, back. Back until Billy’s leaned against the rock, pulling Steve in close until the space between them is entirely eliminated, their drenched, skin-warm fronts plastered together. They’re breathing the same air, puffing against each other’s lips.

Billy’s eyes are so fucking dialated as Steve stares into them that he thinks he could actually drown in them. Thinks he could fall into that pool of darkness and never breathe again. But that would be fine, because it’s Billy and Steve doesn’t need air when he’s around him. His affection for this boy rolls like a steady tide into his chest, rising, filling his lungs with life should he start to suffocate.

Fuck, he loves Billy Hargrove so much.

“You’re wearing my jacket,” Billy observes, eyes breaking from Steve’s to flick back down only for an instant before they’re on his again, somehow hungrier than before. His voice is gravel-rough, sending shivers down Steve’s spine that has nothing to do with the warm summer rain hammering against them still.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Think it looks good on me?”

“Princess, you look ravishing in it…”

#harringroveweek #stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #fanfiction #that ended abruptly but i think continuing it would've ruined it so you're gonna take what you can get #squid writes

[jennathearcher]

(Meant to send this earlier but I'm forgetful) I know you haven't caught up fully yet but I feel like I have to send Stranger Things for the TV show meme (even if I could probably guess some answers) :P

Leave a TV show or movie in my ask box and I'll tell you...

yes YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING LAURA I WAS SO HOPING YOU WOULD 8D

favorite male character:

If you had asked me this pre-s4, I would have said Jonathan hands down, and I don't love him any less now, it's just that EDDIE FUCKING MUNSON HAS STOLEN MY HEART!!!!

favorite female character:

Nancy Wheeler, that much still hasn't changed :P though Chrissy Cunningham is a very close second, I had her for five minutes and I got SO ATTACHED TO HER SHE DESERVES THE WORLD!!!! (also obligatory mention of Max because I adore her)

least favorite character:

M I K E. OH MY GOD I CAN'T STAND MIKE HE'S THE WORST XD Like I find Murray annoying but I at least understand why he is the way he is, Mike is just. a TOTAL DICK.

prettiest character:

Henry Creel :P try and tell me I'm wrong

funniest character:

Dustin 8D He is a CONSTANT DELIGHT

favorite season:

All the seasons have their strengths and their flaws, honestly I think in terms of overall strength I would say s3, the only thing I didn't dig about that season was the extremely stereotypical Russians :P But in terms of storyline, content, and characters, it's still s4 even though I haven't finished it yet XD

favorite episode:

So far it's s4 ep4 for sure with Max's whole storyline :P

favorite romantic ship:

Nancy/Jonathan and Eddie/Chrissy :3 also like.......Billy/Karen rights I don't make the rules :P

favorite family ship:

THE BYERS, Joyce, Will, and Jonathan and I absolutely count Eleven and Jim in that as well <3

favorite friend ship:

STEVE AND ROBIN. OH MY GOD THEIR WHOLE DYNAMIC MAKES ME CRY. DEFINITION OF PLATONIC SOULMATES. ADORABLE.

worst ship:

I'm gonna get eaten alive for this but, Steddie and Harringrove :P like I get it, you wanna see two hot dudes bang, at least make sure they actually have chemistry first XD Steve is the most boring character ever to me I'M SORRY LAURA :P CLEARLY HE WAS JUST MADE FOR THE FANS TO LOVE

#damngoodbabysitter #save tag

[sunflowerdigs]

008! for the ask game

Thanks!

In canon I think Lumax has my favorite dynamic (if you couldn't tell from my tarot card list). They work very well together. Max has a mean bark but Lucas is so confident that it doesn't phase him. And Lucas can be a little goofy but Max is goofy along with him, so it works. Plus, Max hasn't let any of the racism in her home environment influence her, which shows she has a strong sense of self. Idk. I'm not big on shipping pre-teens because it's just not realistic that their relationships would be that serious. But it would not shock me if Lumax went the distance. I'm really looking forward to seeing more of their dynamic in S4.

Of course, outside of canon, it's all about Harringrove for me. I have zero expectations for canon (lbr, Billy is dead and Steve is all about the ladies anyway), but I'm hoping we at least get some good fodder for our fanfics in S4. It's so easy to read Billy as being into Steve but unable to express it properly in S2. It's inevitable that the experience with the MF would influence Billy, and I'd expect him to come away from it determined to do better but unsure of how (if he had lived, obviously). And Steve has already made that journey, so he'd be understanding. Idk, their dynamic feels almost like Mileven's but a bit more mature.

#harringrove #lumax #stranger things ask game #stranger things

[cherrydreamer]

My entry for Day 19 of the HarringroveApril challenge Vines Steve doesn’t sleep well anymore.

He hasn’t done a full eight hours since that first night at the Byers’, since he got dragged into this whole mess. He hasn’t done a full five hours since the tunnels, since Dustin dragged him in even further.  He’s pretty sure he hasn’t done a full two hours since Starcourt. He can’t. There’s no room for restful sleep in between the ringing in his ears when he lies on his side and the nightmares that come when he finally slips under. So he’s already lying awake when the phone rings, eyes shooting open as soon as he hears it.

He’s out of bed by the second ring.  He’s in the kitchen, hand on the phone, by the third. He takes a few deep breaths, gets himself calm.

Tells himself that It’s probably not monster-y. There’s protocol for those, for the ‘Red Alerts’ which  come through the walkie, the one stashed by his bed, nestled next to the bat, both within arm’s reach.

Hand’s reach, really.

Ready.

So it has to be his parents. Something’s happened. Something bad. He knows it. Knows they’d never ring otherwise, not when it’s not his birthday or a holiday. 

Steve’s mind whirls with the possibilities: his parents’ lawyers, ringing to inform him that the Harrington’s luxury cruise ship took a shortcut through the Bermuda triangle and that, sadly, Mr and Mrs Harrington have been poofed out of existence and, hey congratulations kid, you’re the sole heir to the Harrington empire.

His dad calling to tell him that he's gambled everything away, ‘bet it all on black and lost. Let that be a lesson, son’ and in twenty minutes there's going to be some beefy guys hammering at the door to pile everything in a van, Steve included- just another shiny trinket in amongst the vases and dusty bottles of expensive wine- and drive it all to Vegas.

His mom saying that she's done it. She's finally done it. She's caught his dad, legs wrapped around another young, blonde secretary, and she's finally followed through on those threats she made last time, she’s grabbed a kitchen knife and chopped off his- Steve stops his train of thought there, crossing his legs together and wincing at the image he’s conjured.

The phone rings again, seemingly shriller than before, and Steve steels himself for whatever’s about to come. He takes a deep breath and picks up the receiver, “Hello?”

The lights flicker once, so quickly that Steve convinces himself that he imagined it, and then there’s a crackling, a kind of static-y hiss against his ear, and then a voice, “Hey, I need, uh, police?” 

There’s something familiar about it, something twitching at the back of his mind, the tip of his tongue, but Steve can’t quite place it. 

“Hello? Anyone there? Please?” it comes again, a hint of desperation that has Steve’s neck prickling, “I need- shit, I need help.” 

And Steve feels a little bad for the guy but, for once, this isn’t his responsibility. He doesn’t need to help here, doesn’t need to throw himself headfirst into danger. He can let the professionals handle this one.

“Yeah. You’ve got the wrong number, this isn’t 911.” Steve hangs up without even saying goodbye, but his hand is barely off the receiver when it rings again and Steve can hear the same voice, a little more panicked this time, before he’s even got the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Hello? I need...I need help, please.” 

“This isn’t 911” Steve says it more forcefully this time, slamming the receiver down only to have it practically vibrate back into his hand with another ring. He doesn’t even wait for the voice before he’s snapping, “I dunno how, man, but you managed to mess up pressing three numbers again. ”

“Hey!” the voice gets angrier and the shift in tone makes something flutter right at the back of Steve’s mind. A fleeting memory, a flare of pain across his face. He strains to catch it, to fix it in place, but it flickers away again as the voice becomes more desperate, “I keep pressing 911 and you're the fucker who keeps answering,” 

Steve puzzles over that, over what he can mean, and the guy takes advantage of his silence to beg again, “ You gotta- you gotta help me.”

He sounds so distressed, so wrecked, that Steve can’t put the phone down on him again, can’t leave him like that, whoever he is. Some kid on a really bad trip, probably trying to order a pizza and hitting his number by mistake. 

It’s nowhere near the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him, and it’s not like he had anything else planned, so Steve resigns himself to a few minutes of listening to some drug-induced rambling until the guy tires himself out or one of his friends comes to get him. Hell, stick a warm beer in his hand and it's  not that different from some of the nights he spent with Tommy. Good nights too.

Fun.

Steve slides down the wall and makes himself as comfortable as he can against the cold tiles.

“Ok, ok,” he soothes, “What, uh, what do you need?”

The guy sighs, a long, stuttery exhale that Steve swears he can feel down the phone line, and he sounds a little calmer when he asks, “What the hell happened to the town?” 

“Huh?” 

“The... the damn town. Hawkins. Was it a bomb? Was it, I dunno, fucking Russia or some shit?”

Steve freezes at that, a shudder running through him, his face flaring with more phantom pain and the flutter of memory becoming more insistent. There's something about that voice.  But it can't be what Steve's thinking.

“Hey!” the guy on the phone shouts, “Talk to me!”

So Steve does, keeps his voice calm, “What bomb?”

“Jesus...fuck!” The guy snaps, “Fine then. Whatever it was. Whatever the hell happened. Why there’s no other fucker here. And why it’s all-” he stops, and Steve can hear him taking shaky breaths- “It’s all, it’s all dark and there’s ash just...floating. And the damn-” he cuts off again, voice cracking, “and the vines. The fucking...the vine things everywhere. Had to-” he breaks off and Steve can hear the shudders in his breath through the phoneline, “-had to burn one of the fuckers to get it off my leg and I...shit. It’s all radiation, right? The...the bomb fucked it all up. Like the dogs. With the...with the messed up faces? Please, you gotta get me out before it...before I-” “Where are you? What can you see?” Steve interrupts, but the guy’s still rambling, still panicked, "Is there some bunker? Somewhere safe? An air raid thing, is that where you are? Fuck, is there somewhere safe?" 

Steve can hear the desperation in his voice, can hear that particular hoarseness that comes when you’re trying to keep yourself from crying.

"Where are you?" Steve asks again, louder.

The guy’s voice is shaky when he answers, “Loch Nora, the rich bit. But it’s just as fucked up here. Everything’s...wrong.”

Steve’s heart leaps into his mouth, he’s pressing the phone so hard against his ear that it’s hurting, and his hands tremble so much that he almost drops the handset. “Where? Where exactly are you?”  

“Why does that…? I don't fucking know the number. It's the...it's the Harrington place, big house, near the forest, got a-"

Steve does drop the phone at that. It falls with a clack on the floor beside him as his eyes flick around the house, looking for any movement, anything unusual. There’s nothing, not that he can see, nothing creeping around in the shadows, nothing growling or prowling.

Nothing. Not. Yet.

He’s not breathing and then he's breathing too much. Gasping.  Head swimming.

He wants to run upstairs and hide under his bed, wants to grab the bat, wants to stay here and not move until the sun comes up, wants to call Robin, wants to call Dustin, wants to call his mom, wants to hang up the phone and pretend it never happened, wants to know what to do.

He doesn't know what to do.

Instead, he presses his head into his knees and grabs at his hair.

Because it can’t be what he’s thinking. Can’t be what it sounds like. Who it sounds like. It’s a mistake, it’s got to be a mistake. The guy’s high, he’s confused, he’s just some kid with memories of Steve’s parties, he’s got Steve’s house running round his brain, it’s a bad trip, just a bad trip that happens to sound like every nightmare Steve’s been having for the last year, hell, maybe Steve’s hallucinating this whole thing, lack of sleep finally kicking in, maybe Steve’s asleep and this is a dream, maybe- 

“Hey! Hey!” the guy is shouting again, Steve can hear the tinny voice echoing out beside his feet. He picks up the phone again to hear the guy almost pleading, “Don’t go, don’t… you gotta tell me what’s going on. You gotta help me before-” 

"Are you...  are you sure that's where you are?" Steve interrupts,

“Pretty fucking sure,” 

“But that’s...my house...” Steve manages, weakly, "You're in my house?"

There’s a long pause down the line. Long enough that Steve starts to worry. And then the voice comes back. A whisper this time.

“Harrington?” 

It clicks then. The memory. The flutter. It settles and fills his mind with technicolour images. The voice rings through his ears, Harrington, right? Don't sweat it, Harrington. Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington? And it can't be. “Billy?” 

Steve's certain it is. But. It can’t be. 

Because. Billy. Billy’s dead. 

Steve doesn’t know a lot, but he knows that. He saw it happen. Saw him die. Saw it and then re-lived it every night straight for a month afterwards- the Flayer, the blood, Billy's body, Max’s scream. He went to the funeral and stood awkwardly next to Tommy as the coffin was lowered into the ground.  Max had cried, muffled sobs against Susan’s chest.

Because. Billy died. Billy is dead. But he’s also on the other end of the phone line, talking to Steve. Pleading with him.

“Harrington, Steve, shit, please don’t...please don’t hang up."

"Billy? Is that? Hargrove? But you-"

Steve doesn't know how to say it. Doesn't know the etiquette involved when telling someone that they should be dead. It definitely feels like the kind of thing you probably shouldn't draw attention to. Like a stammer or some kind of disfigurement. But maybe it's something Billy needs to know. Like pointing out when someone has spinach in their teeth.

Because Steve's talking to a dead guy who doesn't seem to realise he's dead.

He's in his kitchen talking to a dead guy. His kitchen. Where he used to stand on tiptoe and lean against his mom's legs and she'd slip him tiny pieces of sliced apple whenever she made pie.

Where he can reach out and run his finger around the black smudge in the counter, the burn he made when he'd been learning to cook for himself. He'd almost scorched his hand, but instead he just seared a crescent into the wood.

His kitchen with the overflowing trash and the half finished glass of orange juice and the dead guy on the phone. The dead guy who’s in his house.

“You’re in my house?” 

Repetition. It’s all he can manage. All his brain is capable of right now. Four words to cling to.

He tries for another four. Billy is not dead. He's in Steve's house.

He needs Steve's help. Now with a (mini) Part 2 (and plans for more!)

#harringrove #well. very PRE harringrove #harringrove april #and yes this is the one that MIGHT become a longer one later if I ever get past my mental blocks over it #so I thought I'd tweak it and air it out for this challenge instead! #cherrywrites

[hargrove-mayfields]

Harringrove tag game! by @lovebillyhargrove

I was tagged by @mrsblackruby! tysm!! <3

1. Do they get together BEFORE MF possessing Billy or AFTER shit goes down? (Or maybe DURING😲)

Typically I say before, like at around Christmas time in ‘84. I think anybody in a small town puts aside character prejudices around the holidays and tries to make those connections with everyone, so I’ve always felt, especially since the fight was literally only a month before, that Steve would reach out to Billy the night of the Snowball and things would, well, snowball from there.

2. Who kisses who first?

Definitely Steve. I firmly stand by the hc that Billy’s never kissed a boy before Steve, and maybe Steve hasn’t either, but he’s the romantic, no way is he going to let Billy kiss him first.

3. Where do they have their first sex? (Location) (HJs and BJs count)

I don’t really have a solid answer for this? But definitely somewhere very spur of the moment, maybe somebody’s couch or the locker rooms?

4. Who says 💖 I LOVE YOU 💖 first?

Imma say Billy. Opposite of my last answer, I don’t feel like either of them would say they love each other on accident or like, in the moment. I think their first I love you’d would be very very controlled. I also think Billy has less experience with actually being in love, so when the time comes that he’s actually mustered up the courage to say it to Steve, I think he’s super nervous and practices the perfect scenario in his head a dozen times. It’s definitely not blurted out.

5. I believe this fandom is way past having hard feelings about it, so

BottomSteve! or BottomBilly?

I don’t have a strong opinion either way, but typically, I prefer bottom!Steve. No particular reason, that’s just the way I tend to read things!

6. Do they give gifts to each other?

Absolutely! Billy doesn’t have the disposable income to run out and buy Steve new things every time he wants to give him something, so I think he does a really cheesy like, giving him a kiss as a present and making a big deal out of it.

Steve is sort of the same way, in that he doesn’t like to give Billy material things, because he doesn’t want him to think he’s being pretentious or trying to hold his wealth over Billy’s head like he’s his mom or something, so he only gives Billy personal things. Old pilled t-shirts to wear to bed and a blanket to keep on the couch in his room that smells like him. Things like that.

They also try to make eachother things as presents, like food or little knick knacks in art class, but they always fail miserably and think it’s really funny when all they have to show is a smoking mess.

7. Where do they end up living? California, Chicago, Hawkins... Idk .. Alaska??)))) Any other location?

I honestly think they stay in Hawkins. I don’t think after everything Billy would be able to leave Max behind, and I also think that Steve would like having a connection to where he grew up, even if bad things happened there. If they did leave though, I see them going down south, maybe tourist trap Tennessee?

8. What are their future jobs?

In my mind that very much depends on if we’re following canon and this is post Starcourt or like, if it’s a whole new AU. Because after that I don’t think Billy would actually ever be physically well enough to work again. I know it’s a pretty unpopular opinion, bc the general hc is that he bounces back within a year or so with some scars (which is cool! I’m not knocking that I’m just sayin) but I think he'd be permanently disabled, on oxygen support 24/7, and just with all sorts of health complications from, you know, literally having a gaping hole in his chest, that would make it impossible for him to work. In that sort of scenario I usually think of Steve as a being teacher or an artist, something that he doesn’t have very long work hours or can do from home so he can be there to take care of Billy.

If we’re going with like, a no upside down or a Billy is never hurt au, I think he stays in Hawkins and just works in some sort of a mom and pop until he’s the new manager, like at an antique store maybe?

(p.s. stay tuned for an upcoming fic about Billy working in a fix-it shop!!)

As for Steve, I feel like he wouldn’t ever be able to settle on one career when he didn’t have limitations. I don’t really know what he’d eventually decide is his calling, maybe design of some sort? Jewelry making?

This is a hard question, I don’t really see them as being tied down to one career indefinitely, but I do know I don’t see either of them ever working desk jobs.

9. Who's a better cook?

Neither of them. Billy wasn’t allowed in the kitchen growing up because Neil said it’s a woman's place, and Steve is just god awful at following directions, like, can’t tell the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon or preheat the oven awful. They just eat takeout and like, cold sandwiches literally all the time until someone (Joyce) notices and teaches them how to cook on the weekends.

10. Steve Hargrove or Billy Harrington?

Billy Harrington. I don’t see him wanting to be a Hargrove anymore. He has no positive ties to the name with his mom leaving and his dad being his dad, so I think he’d want to take Steve’s last name. Also this is kinda weird but I am VERY particular about my middle name hcs (I think it’s an ocd thing? idk) and I have an alliterative name for Steve that wouldn’t work if he was a Hargrove instead of a Harrington, so that’s also part of the reason.

11. What's Max's reaction when she hears they're together?

I think probably just like, confusion. Not over Billy being with a boy, but over that boy being Steve. Like, she doesn’t know Steve well, but she knows he’s the responsible big brother to Dustin, and that’s the exact opposite of what her brother is like, so it catches her off guard. She’s definitely a little gossip though, wanting all the not-gross details about Steve from her brother. She’s basically just a little sister about it, I guess.

12. Describe in ONE SENTENCE Hopper's reaction when he hears the names Hargrove and Harrington mentioned together?

Not again.

13. Does Robin like Billy OR does Robin hate Billy?

I think she likes him. I have a little hc that she and him were together in an underground pre-gsa kinda thing in high school. She pretends she can’t stand him, but the two of them are quick best friends. (this might just be me but I think the two of them together would give statler and waldorf vibes)

14. What about Dustin?

Dustin I think actually thinks Billy is really cool. Like, he’s like a little double agent, hearing from Max all the annoying things about Billy, and from Steve the good things. He’ll gag if Steve gets too mushy over him and he’ll definitely join in with Max in calling Billy gross, and he also absolutely gives Billy a (very non-intimidating. he’s too soft) shovel talk, but I think he really likes and looks up to Billy as like, his other big brother.

15. Fav Harringrove AU?

Oh gosh, I can’t even pick. I think I like childhood friends aus best? They’re really fun to play with and it always ends up being super sweet. I’m a big fan of soulmates too for kind of the same reasons. I like mushy stuff.

16. Billy+Camaro=...??? (Not strictly Harringrove, but I can't not to ..)

I honestly don’t think Billy cares about the camaro that much. He’d be sad when it gets totaled because that was his only way of getting around and also his first car, but I don’t think the car itself has that much value to him. I mean, he treats it with absolutely zero respect, jumping curbs and driving too fast and slamming on those breaks. The camaro is just a car. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I’ll tag: @lifegaurd-hargrove85! @deardmvz! and @strangebrainrot! no pressure! and as usual, if anybody else sees this and wants to participate, feel free!

#tag game!! #long post #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer

[magniloquent-raven]

See What This is Worth

Harringrove Week of Love: Day 4

Teacher AU || School Dance

Rated: T

Read on Ao3

Billy is not, by nature, the kind of person who likes to be overly helpful. He doesn’t go out of his way for people he doesn’t know. He’s not especially charitable. 

And yet here he is, taking time out of his Friday night, setting up tables and supervising idiots with no upper body strength who think they can move a whole stack of chairs on their own. He has better things to do than hang out at work and chaperone a bunch of middle-schoolers trying to score their first kiss to some truly grating top 40 shit. 

He didn’t even like school dances when he was a student. As a middle-schooler he was too fucking terrified that some girl might ask him to dance, so he just never went. And in high school...well. He ended up more the type to get high in the parking lot and ditch with whatever chick was too drunk to notice he didn’t put out. 

There was never a boy he liked well enough to do this shit with. Get dressed up and pretend not to want to dance and get flustered when he so much as touches a hand. No one in school was worth suffering through this shit for. 

Until now, unfortunately.

He’s a grown-ass man and somehow feels like a dumb, lovestruck teen and it’s all Steve Harrington’s fault.

Him and his fucking face, and his ass, and his looking unfairly good in a suit. 

He looks good in his stupid dorky khakis and paint-splattered apron too, but holy shit Billy never really got the phrase cleans up nice until he saw Steve in formal wear. His hair all combed neatly for once, wearing a blazer and slacks that have clearly been tailored. 

Billy is seriously considering sending a thank you note to whatever tailor Steve visits, because they are very good at their job. 

Good enough that Billy’s spending half his goddamn time staring at Steve’s ass instead of setting up. He’s bossing some volunteers around, gesturing animatedly about crepe paper and streamers and it’s so distractingly endearing that Billy kind of forgets he’s supposed to be doing anything other than watch Steve work.

And he gets caught. Steve turns, spots Billy staring. Scowls. Which is kind of his default expression when looking at Billy. 

As much as Billy secretly wants to have Steve look at him like he can actually stand spending more than five minutes in the same room, the irritated frown kind of suits Steve. It’s cute. And when he gets pissed it’s hot. His eyes get all intense, mouth set in a firm line and Billy may or may not have had a fantasy or two about Steve making that exact face right before absolutely destroying his ass, so...Steve might not like him, but Billy’s dealing. 

By being annoying, but still. 

He wiggles his fingers in a sarcastic little wave, leaning a little more pointedly. He’s been lounging against the wall for way too long, his shoulder is going numb, but he’s not about to scramble to look like he’s doing something just because Steve spotted him.

Steve’s shoulders heave as he sighs, eyes rolling skyward. He hands his clipboard to the nearest volunteer, whispering something before turning on his heel and marching over. 

Billy’s inspecting his nails when Steve reaches him. Stops a few paces away and folds his arms. 

“Something I can do for you, Harrington?” He knows the bored tone gets to Steve, so he plays it up.

“Yeah. You were supposed to be helping Nancy put chairs out. You know, the thing you signed up for?” There’s still an edge to that statement, has been since Billy walked into the first committee meeting with a big, shit-eating grin and Steve glared at him looking like he was about to pop a blood vessel. He always says it all accusatory, like he’s not sure Billy even did sign up, and he’s just hanging around to be a nuisance.

Which, he is, but he’s doing it officially. 

Has his little chaperone badge and everything. It’s pinned to his jacket, which he isn’t actually wearing, but he has it. 

“Got tired,” Billy says with a dramatic weariness, head lolling to the side, rolling back against the wall. He looks up at Steve through his eyelashes. “I’m allowed to take a break aren’t I?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hargrove, you’re telling me moving flimsy plastic chairs tired you out? You’re built like a brick wall.” He puts his hands on his hips and gets the same look he gets when his students start throwing clay around. 

“Are you objectifying me?” Billy puts a hand on his chest with mock-offence, the corners of his mouth turning upward with genuine delight. His grin brightens when Steve’s cheeks flush, gaze darting away, the annoyance flagging a little, replaced with something else for just a moment.

“I’m stating a fact. In a completely...imparted way.”

“Think you mean ‘impartial’.” 

The flush darkens, a splotchy red instead of the petal pink he was a moment ago, and his mouth twists. “Whatever,” he mutters. “You’ve been standing here for like ten minutes, man, get back to work.”

He stalks off in a huff, leaving Billy wondering how the hell Steve knew how long he’d been slacking off for.

Then again, he is in charge, so. He’s probably keeping tabs on everyone. At least that’s what Billy has to tell himself so the butterflies in his stomach don’t get any ideas. 

He wanders off, back to where he was supposed to be, but Wheeler doesn’t actually need his help. She got most of the chairs in place while he was checking out her ex. He gets an impatient brush-off when he half-heartedly asks her if there’s any more work to do. 

She never did like him much. 

Not that he’s bothered, he doesn’t care for her either. She’s too snooty. Up her own ass. Self-righteous. ...and Steve’s ex. 

Rumour has it Steve’s finally over her, but Billy will believe it when he sees it, the man hasn’t been on a date since Wheeler tore his heart to shreds three years ago. 

Heather gossips, okay. She’s nosy, and her family knows Wheeler’s family, who know Steve, and word gets around. These upper class assholes never have anything better to do than talk behind each other’s backs. Especially when the only son of a wealthy family is, at 28, single and teaching snot-nosed brats how to fingerpaint. 

And Billy has a vested interest, sue him. He asks some pointed questions here and there. 

God, he’s never gotten this fucking desperate over a guy before. Pining away. Putting up with Nancy Wheeler bossing him around at meetings because he doesn’t want to piss her off too much just in case that’s the final straw for Steve. The thing that tips their rapport from not-friendly to outright hostile. 

Because for some reason the guy still gives a shit about the ex who cheated on him. Fucking martyr. 

Billy’s not sure if he’s jealous that she gets forgiven and he gets angry glares for no goddamn reason, or if he’s just flabbergasted that anyone would be that self-sacrificing. Both, maybe. It’s a little impressive, honestly. How far out of his way Steve will go to forgive people. 

Except Billy.

Who still doesn’t know what he did wrong in the first place.

Not that it bothers him. No, not at all. He’s just constantly thinking about it, and trying to hold on to every detail of the early days of their interactions so he can analyze those moments for clues, and sometimes lying awake at night wondering if he’s just fundamentally unlovable and he’s never gonna figure out what he did wrong because he just is wrong. 

He’s fine. It’s fine.

Thank god Steve is occupied for the rest of set-up. Always finding someone who isn’t Billy to boss around when he isn’t physically doing something himself. Gives Billy some room to breathe. And watch, like a weirdo.

He gets a couple weird looks from other volunteers but that’s nothing new. Wheeler glaring at him. Heather smirking. That one parent chaperone who’s here early and was making eyes at him at first, but it’s devolved into side-eye. 

He thought maybe the dance actually starting would be a distraction, but it’s just loud. He’s still constantly stealing glances at Steve. While he’s making small talk. While he’s repinning some streamers that got knocked loose. He looks gorgeous, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting of a school gym, and Billy really wishes he had a flask on him right now.

Yelling at some rowdy kids doesn’t help either. Just earns him a dirty look from that one overprotective chaperone mom. No one asked you, lady, the kid was bouncing around like an over-caffeinated gerbil, someone was gonna get hurt. It’s Billy’s job to break that shit up.

He needs a smoke. This is unbearable.

Slipping out of the gym unnoticed is easier than he thought it would be. No one seems to give a shit that he’s sidling out, which is a little insulting, honestly. But useful.

The hallways are quiet. Empty. It’s always a little creepy being here at night. The squeak of his boots on the linoleum, the artificial white light keeping the nighttime gloom out, it always feels a little dream-like. Nightmarish maybe. Liminal. 

He props the door open on his way out, with a chair he lifted from a nearby classroom. The last thing he needs is to get locked out. Embarrassing. He’d probably just leave, but then he’d get chewed out for ditching.

He sighs, turning his face skyward for a moment to breathe before he lights up.

The cool air is a relief after being cooped up with so many rambunctious pre-teens. Billy’s still not a fan of Indiana weather, and he probably never will be, but anything is better than being in there another goddamn second. 

This was a terrible idea. It was barely an idea. An impulse decision that got his ass stuck babysitting on a Friday night just so he could spend more time staring at Steve. 

Pathetic. 

Maybe he should just ditch right now. 

He’s weighing the pros and cons when a familiar voice cuts into his contemplation.

“Hargrove, where the hell did you—” Steve’s face appears when he pokes his head out the cracked-open door. His pinchy annoyed face. He wrinkles his nose when he spots Billy, and the cigarette in his hand. “Seriously?”

Billy shrugs. Puts the cigarette between his lips and takes a pointed drag, cheeks hollowing.

Steve, who was trying to sidle out past the chair, trips. The chair clatters to the ground, Steve stumbling in the opposite direction, arms out and flailing. 

The door slams shut behind him.

Billy gapes, incredulous gaze flicking between Steve, frozen in place, and the closed door. “Seriously?”

“...Shit. I—” Steve grimaces. Runs a hand through his hair, tousling his neatly combed locks. “You have your key, right?”

The glare Billy levels at him is positively icy. “Yeah, no, of course I do, the chair was there for fun. I wasn’t worried about being locked out at all.” 

“Okay, okay, Jesus. You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“Don’t I?” It comes out far more bitterly than intended. Steve stares at him.

“No? What kind of—” he huffs, loud, frustrated, “What the fuck is your deal, Hargrove?”

Well. That’s a layered question. One he isn’t going to answer even a little bit. He scoffs instead, turning away and taking another angry pull off his cigarette. It warms him but does nothing for the pit in his stomach.

They stand there in silence for a beat. The muffled noise from inside is muted, distant. 

“Fine, whatever,” Steve mutters. “I just don’t get why you hate me so much.”

And he sounds hurt. He sounds sad, and it throws Billy for a loop. Knocks him down a little. But then his chest gets tight, his heart flip-flopping around in the clutches of something caustic and resentful.

He flicks ash in Steve’s direction with an emphatic gesture, a petty vindictiveness. “You’re kidding, right?” he snaps. Steve’s jaw drops, just for a second, surprise passing over his face, before his expression hardens, his mouth snaps shut, jaw clenching.

“Alright, fine, I get it, what’s not to hate.” He clutches his elbows, not quite folding his arms. It looks more like he’s hugging himself. “Good talk.” 

Billy squints at him. The tense line of his shoulders, the way he can’t quite meet Billy’s eye. He’s struck with the absurd urge to pull Steve into his arms. The impulse just pisses him off more. “You know what, princess, you get what you give, alright? You can’t treat someone like shit from the jump and then get mad when they don’t want to be your best fucking friend. Fuck you.” 

“What? I never—”

“Oh, you never? You never asked Heather why she ‘puts up with such an asshole’?” He tosses his hands in the air, air quoting around the phrase, and takes a step towards Steve. “The day after we met? And you never talked over me at my first staff meeting, right? You would never.” Another step. He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t do it on purpose, but he ends up standing inches from Steve. The cold air mists their breath, and it mingles in one seething cloud between them. “You’ve been treating me like the dirt under your shoe since I got here, Harrington, don’t you dare act like you haven’t.”

Steve sets his jaw, a stubborn tilt to his chin. “You were an asshole. I still don’t get why she puts up with you!”

Billy grinds his teeth. He’s asked Heather that himself. With varying degrees of seriousness. It stings hearing it from someone else. 

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be people pleasers,” he spits, hands clenching into fists at his side. To channel his anger, more than anything else. He isn’t seventeen anymore, he can’t just start throwing punches at a co-worker. 

His nails bite into the skin of his palm, sweat stinging the shallow scrapes, and his hands tremble, itch. 

“I’m not—you know what, I’m not doing this with you.” He steps back. Just like that. Like it’s that easy to walk away. Like none of this matters to him, and he’s just...venting frustrations that have nothing to do with Billy. Because Billy doesn’t matter to him. This is about getting locked out of his own stupid party. Or Wheeler saying something bitchy maybe. Or any number of things going on in his life that Billy doesn’t know about because he’s not a part of it. 

And the tumbling, tangling web of twisting thoughts wrap around each other ‘til none of them make sense, ‘til he doesn’t know what he’s upset about he’s just gutted, just standing there in the cold staring at Steve, his eyes stinging and his toes going numb because he didn’t wear his good socks today.

He shouldn’t give a shit about this either, but he does. 

Story of his fucking life, apparently.

Steve’s gaze wanders, looking for what, Billy doesn’t know, but his profile lit up by a dirty streetlamp has got to be the most beautiful fucking thing Billy’s ever seen. He wants to kiss Steve so badly it hurts. 

And he hates that he still does, even when he’s angry. Even bitter and hurting he still wants. 

He flicks his cigarette butt away and shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“The fuck are you looking for, Harrington,” he asks flatly, as Steve cranes his neck peering around the building. 

Steve shoots him a glare. “Trying to remember if any of the doors got left unlocked.” He shivers violently, and sticks his hands in his armpits. “It’s freezing out here, in case you didn’t notice, and I’m not really into the idea of frostbite, so.”

“What, Mr.Born-and-raised-in-Indiana can’t handle a little snow?” Billy sneers. It’s petty, he knows. It’s not fair. Because Steve is out here in a dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, dressed to be in a sweaty, crowded gymnasium. Billy at least grabbed his jacket before he came out here, knowing he was going to be a while, and he’s still clenching his jaw against the urge to let his teeth chatter. 

The look that earns him is withering, though it’s undercut slightly by the awkward way Steve shuffles his arms around, trying to unroll his sleeves without exposing his fingers to the cold. 

Billy rolls his eyes. “Forget it, pretty boy, Wheeler made her boytoy check all the doors before the dance started. Either wait ‘til someone notices you’re gone or break a window.” 

“Great,” Steve mutters, and shudders again. 

“Why do you still talk to her, anyways?” He tries for casual and misses by a mile. Steve’s eyebrows shoot upwards and Billy tries again. “Just making conversation. We could be out here a while.”

“And that was what you—whatever. She and I are friends. Why wouldn’t I talk to her.”

“C’mon,” Billy scoffs, “Plenty of reasons. You still hung up on her or something? Hangin’ around hoping for another shot?”

“Definitely not.”

It shouldn’t make Billy’s heart leap but it does. Just because he’s not still sniffing around after Wheeler’s granny panties anymore doesn’t mean he has any interest in Billy. “Really now.”

“Yes, really, Jesus Christ. Why do you care.” 

“I don’t.” Billy lies, and looks away, affecting disinterest. He sniffs. “It’s just weird, is all. I sure as shit wouldn’t hang around someone after they cheated on me.”

Steve is staring. Billy can feel his gaze boring into the side of his head. He glances out of the corner of his eye, watches Steve furrow his brow and frown. “It wasn’t—It was more complicated than that. I wasn’t...good. We weren’t good together.” He stops himself, biting his lip, and shakes his head. 

“Hm.” Billy chews his thumbnail. It almost feels like they’re getting somewhere, but it’s so fragile Billy’s afraid to open his mouth and ruin it. The silence stretches, filled only by Steve’s rustling shivers, and Billy’s own unsteady heartbeat. “My car keys are in my jacket pocket,” he ventures, after long enough that the silence has gotten awkward. 

“What! How long were you going to keep that to yourse—”

“Do you want to take advantage of my heater, or not.” 

“Jesus Christ, yes.”

“Alright.”

They don’t talk on the walk over. Snow crunches beneath Billy’s boots, and Steve slips a few times on patches of icy pavement. 

And Billy feels somehow nervous. Like he’s invited Steve to his goddamn bedroom or something. 

Or maybe he’s just worried this tentative peace will end with their conversation going where it always does, blowing up in his goddamn face. But they’ve never actually spent that much time alone, he has no idea how this is going to work. 

Best case scenario it ends with Steve half-dressed in the backseat of his car, but he’s not stupid enough to hope for that.

Fantasize about it, sure, but…

Steve actually being in his car is a surreal experience. Filling the small cab with his clean laundry scent, sweet and subtle, faint enough to be a tease, and he has to restrain himself from taking big embarrassing sniffs to satisfy his sudden craving for more. 

He wonders if the smell will linger. How long Steve will be a phantom presence in his space. 

Waste of time to think about it now, while he’s actually here. 

Billy distracts himself by keeping his hands busy. Fumbling with the keys in his stiff fingers. Poking the overhead button to flip on the interior light. Flicking the dials on his console. The heater’s fan drones almost as loudly as the engine. Somehow the white noise makes the silence less stressful.

Steve rubs his hands together in front of the nearest vent, hissing through his teeth. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t feel my goddamn fingers,” he mutters, the hair on his forehead flopping as he moves. 

“You weren’t out there that long,” Billy chuckles. Steve’s clumsy flailing is stupid endearing, Billy is shamelessly turned in his seat to watch him, the doorhandle digging into his spine, his knee pulled up and leaning on the seat’s backrest. 

“Oh come on, you grew up in California, how are you fine right now?” Steve groans, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. His gaze darts up and down Billy’s form before flicking away again.

It’s common knowledge where Billy is from. He doesn’t exactly hide it. There’s a goddamn Malibu postcard tacked up in his office, pictures of his old surfboard. But it still makes Billy a little giddy that Steve pays enough attention to know that. 

“I run hot,” Billy says casually, and grins, tongue between his teeth. Truth be told, he wasn’t fine, he was fucking freezing, he’s just good at hiding physical discomfort. 

Steve’s cheeks flush a little pinker, and his gaze gets suspiciously focused on the vent in front of him.

“So…” Steve licks his lips, pausing, “Uh. What was it like? California.”

Billy blinks at him. “Warmer than this shithole, for starters.” 

He feels off balance suddenly. First-date-jittery. Which is ridiculous because he’s never gotten first date jitters. And this isn’t a date. Not even close. But still, when Steve laughs quietly it gets the butterflies in Billy’s stomach far too excited. Like he’s ten and discovering the wonders of holding a boy’s hand all over again. 

“I uh. Can’t go back there.” Billy chews the inside of his cheek, watching Steve closely. 

“Why, you a wanted criminal or something?”

Billy snorts. “Glad to know you think so highly of me. No, I meant...lotta shit happened there that I’d rather not remember.”

There were good things too. More good memories in California than after they moved, but that doesn’t stop the awful shit from tainting the whole goddamn state for him. Just makes it harder that it does. 

Hard to want to go back to a place where you almost died, no matter how many times your mom took you to the beach there.

Steve meets his gaze, his eyes soft, and it punches the breath from Billy’s lungs for a second. “Yeah, I get that.” He hums, and tucks his hands between his thighs. The position makes him look oddly demure. “I, uh. Have some experience with avoiding bad memories, y’know. Doesn’t end well. Repressing that kinda shit.”

“Pff,” Billy leans his head back against the window. The cold seeps through his curls. “You sound like Kali.”

“...Who?”

“Biker boots. Side shave. ‘Bout yea tall.” Billy waves his hand around his shoulder. “You met her once. I brought her to that stupid Christmas party couple years back.”

“Oh.” Steve looks down at his lap. “Your girlfriend.”

Billy chokes on his own spit. “What?”

“...Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, no, uh. No. Not even a little bit, man,” Billy laughs a little hysterically. 

“She was your date to that party though, right? Did it not work out, or…?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, and rubs the back of his neck. Steve’s staring, all wide-eyed and confused and fucking adorable. He weighs his options. Wonders how much he should divulge. The easiest way would be to just say no, and move on. The safest way. They’re stuck out here alone and he doesn’t know how well Steve would react to finding out he’s stuck alone with a queer. 

It’s something Billy tends not to take risks on. If guys can’t figure him out on their own, he isn’t going to tell them. But in this case...he’s just annoyed that Steve hasn’t noticed yet. 

And besides, Steve spends half his time hanging around Robin Buckley—who Billy has his suspicions about—so it’s not like there’s no chance Steve would be okay with Billy being gay…

He takes a breath. Exhales slow and stares at the roof of the car. There’s a burn mark next to the rearview mirror where he might’ve stubbed out a cigarette. He’s had this damn car so long he doesn’t remember doing it.

“She’s a friend, Steve. And I borrowed her from her girlfriend that night,” he says, testing the waters. Steve blinks a little, lips parting, but doesn’t react any more than that. Doesn’t seem angry, or judgemental, or disgusted. “I’m not really ready to be out at work. So.” 

“Wait, Robin was right?” Steve blurts, sitting a little straighter, eyebrows shooting up. 

“Of course she noticed,” Billy mutters, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. He doesn’t ask why Buckley was talking to Steve about him in the first place, let alone about his sexual preferences. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“I mean, she kept going on about lesbian psychic sense, and I told her if anyone’s got a lesbian psychic sense, it’s El, not her, but—” he cuts himself off, flushing. “I, uh. Oh. Huh. Guess I shoulda listened to her when she told me my gaydar was busted.” 

Well. That’s...something. Not the reaction he was expecting. Not that he did know what to expect, but still. “Yeah, you usually need to be queer to spot one,” he shrugs. Like he hasn’t been hoping Steve would pick up on his not-so-subtle hints this whole time, while dreading the possibility with equal fervour.

But Steve freezes then. Shoulders going stiff, his hands stilling. And Billy’s heart leaps. 

“I...” Steve fidgets, his palms rubbing together as he shifts his thighs. “Um. Am. I am. I’m bi.”

“Huh...” Billy licks his lips. “Well, shit, Harrington.”

He wonders how well he pulled off cool and unbothered. It’s usually something he’s alright at, but he’s not usually reacting to the goddamn man of his dreams telling him he’s into guys. His whole chest feels like it’s gonna explode.

“Mhm…” Steve hums, staring at his own hands, his face frustratingly neutral. 

“So.” Suddenly their childish rivalry annoys Billy. When Steve was just a straight boy he was pining after it felt good to punish him for being unattainable. Be up in his space without being too obvious about why. Get him all flushed and bothered in the only way he could. But now… “Why did it take us this long to get here?” Billy asks quietly. He knows his side of the story. Knows his own stubborn asshole nature played its part. But Steve…

His anger from earlier resurfaces. Steve treating him like he wasn’t worth his time, running on a loop in his head. 

He draws his knee up, hugging it to his chest, but keeps the bitterness out of his expression. It’s too likely to end up looking like sadness on his face right now. 

Steve shrugs. “Haven’t we already been through this?” He turns to stare out the window. Billy glares at the back of his head.

“No, Steve, we haven’t. You called me an asshole and then said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“What else is there to say?”

“How ‘bout an explanation? What exactly did I do to you, pretty boy? And don’t give me that, you were a dick, bullshit, because you hated me from the jump. Way before I did anything to deserve it.” 

And he did, eventually, deserve it. He knows that. Doesn’t make the immediate brush-off feel any better. 

Steve’s back is stiff, and he’s crossed his arms. And he still won’t look at Billy.

Feels like they’re right back where they started, and Billy wants to crawl out of his own skin. He grits his teeth, and hisses, “Listen, I know you come from a family of fuckin’ bigshot lawyers or what-the-fuck-ever, but it doesn’t give you the right to treat people like dirt if they don’t—”

That, at least, gets Steve’s attention. He whips his head around, stares at Billy with his mouth open. “Is that what you think—Billy I haven’t had a real conversation with my parents in nearly ten years, I don’t give a shit about all that.” 

“Then what—”

“You make me feel dumb! Alright? Happy?”

Billy blinks at him. “What?”

Steve groans, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You—you show up here all, all hot and—” he waves a hand, gesturing up and down Billy’s body, “like that, and it was annoying enough that you knew that, strutting around like you own the place, but then you go and open your mouth and—” Steve buries his face in his hands, sighing, rubbing his eyes. “The first time I heard you talk you were explaining some shit about—about—nemo devices or something—”

“Mnemonic.”

“That! That right there, that thing you always do. I get it. Okay? You’re smarter than me. I’m just a dumb art teacher who gets headaches when he tries to read.” Steve throws himself back against the headrest, all furrowed brow and expressive hands.

And Billy stares. Frozen in place. He is, for once, at a loss for words. His mouth works soundlessly as he searches for something to say. But what falls out of him is, “You think I’m hot?” and he mentally slaps himself. 

“Really. That’s your takeaway?”

“No—no, well, I mean. Kind of. Yeah.” He wets his bottom lip. Tongues his cheek. 

Steve groans, “Seriously?” He tugs at a stray lock of hair. “No one who wears pants that tight doesn't know they’re attractive, alright, why is this surprising. I have eyes.”

“Because it’s you.” Billy’s brain slams to a halt the second he says it, shock freezing him in place. Apparently his filter is just fucking broken today, Jesus Christ.

“...What. Y’know what, fuck you, I’m not that unobservant—”

Billy snorts a disbelieving laugh, “Are you sure about that.” 

“Alright, fine, I didn’t realize you were gay, for like, a really long time, but you didn’t notice that I’m queer too, so there!” Steve looks at him, triumphant, like he’s won the argument—if that’s what this even is. And Billy scoffs, stupid, irrational competitiveness tightening like anger in his chest, and—

“It’s not the same, Harrington,” Billy says flatly, heart pounding. 

“And why not?”

“Because you haven’t been after my dick this whole time! You didn’t care if I knew that you’re queer,” he’s almost shouting, frustrated and not even sure what he’s trying to prove, arms thrown wide to punctuate his dumb and nonexistent point, until exactly what he just let slip sinks in. He lowers his hands, clenches them into fists resting on his thighs. Steve hasn’t said a word, he’s just staring, jaw slack. 

“Wait...so—”

“Don’t.” 

“But—”

“Harrington,” Billy growls.  

“Jesus Christ, Billy would you let me—”

“No.”

“I have been though!” Steve yells over him, and it stuns Billy enough that he falls silent. “Dumbass, I have been into you this whole goddamn time, are you kidding me?”

“...What.”

Steve runs restless fingers through his hair, making even more of a mess of it. “Listen, do you have any idea how irritating it was that you’re as hot as you are? I wanted to badly to hate you because you were so fucking annoying, but you were all—” he gestures to Billy, waving his hand around wildly, “like, a fucking...walking wet dream, so.”

“Gee, thanks,” Billy responds, utterly bemused. 

“And then I find out you’re a great teacher, and really smart, and kind of funny when you aren’t being a douche, and suddenly I’m head-over-heels for a guy I’m pretty sure hates me, because I have no self-respect apparently, and—” He stops, chest heaving, eyebrows drawn, and curls in on himself, folding his arms. 

“I never hated you.” 

Steve scoffs, dipping his chin ‘til his face is shadowed by his bangs.

“Listen to me,” Billy scoots forward, wedging his knee over the cupholders between their seats. He hesitates, a hand hovering mid-air while he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. And then touches Steve’s elbow. He jolts, looks up at Billy from under the fall of brown hair hanging over his forehead, his eyes are wide and questioning. Billy presses his fingertips firmer to the warmth of Steve’s skin under his starched dress shirt. “You care about your friends a ridiculous amount, it’s mind-boggling. Honestly. I grew up around people who would’ve barely given a shit if I died, and here you are worrying about everyone in your life, like it’s your fuckin’ job. You’re a good goddamn person, and I wanted…” he pauses, and bites his lip. “I was pissed that I wasn’t one of the people you cared about, alright. Fuckin’ Wheeler gets to be, but I...” He trails off, gestures vaguely.  

Steve’s fingers are cold, sneaking up from under his folded arm to touch the back of Billy’s hand. “You were. You are.” He ducks his head again, the ghost of a smile just barely visible before he disappears into shadow again. “I came out here to check on you, didn’t I?”

“I mean…I was supposed to be helping out inside—”

“Billy, there’s, like, eight volunteers in there, they can handle a bunch of middle-schoolers.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a quiet breath. “I, uh. I’m sorry. I never thought you gave a damn about my opinion, to be honest. I didn’t—I was just…”

“Insecure?”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah.” 

And that’s something Billy’s more familiar with than he’d like to be. He squeezes Steve’s forearm. “You’re not stupid, you know.”

“It’s fine, I know I am. Everybody in my life is some kinda damn genius, so. Someone had to draw the short straw.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Steve.” That gets his attention, surprised eye-contact, and Billy tilts his head to maintain it. “I don’t give a shit that your goddamn friends can speak five languages, or understand organic chem, or any of that crap, they aren’t better than you, alright, they’re just nerds.” Steve snorts, and rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin tugging at his lips and it makes Billy smile. “Look, you play guitar, right. And you taught that dweeby little friend of yours the chords to his weird song about physics. Wouldn’t have been able to pull that off without at least a couple brain cells floating around under all that hair.” 

“I mean, that was just—”

“That was just something you’re good at. You don’t gotta be able to read Shakespeare to have smarts, you’re just smart about other shit.” 

A blush colours Steve’s cheeks. “I—thanks,” he murmurs. 

Billy doesn’t get a chance to respond.

In the front seat of his beat-up old Camaro, with snow starting to fall outside, gathering silently on the dimly illuminated windshield, Steve Harrington kisses him for the first time. He’s still holding Billy’s hand. One second he’s glancing down shyly, smiling small and crooked, the next…

His lips are soft. Gentle. He kisses like he’s asking permission, barely touching Billy at all. 

Despite the light brush of a kiss, Billy feels it everywhere, lit up with a jolt of electricity right through his chest. He chases Steve when he pulls away, with a hasty press of his mouth, kisses him again. 

And again.

His free hand comes up to cup Steve’s cheek, holding that warmth in the palm of his hand, trying to keep him close for as long as possible. Steve makes a quiet noise against his lips, and his heart clenches, his breath catching in his throat. 

They part eventually, Billy still basking in the phantom sensation of Steve’s smile pressed to his, leaving him tingling and warm. Their foreheads touch, resting together, the point of contact is grounding, the only thing stopping him from feeling like he could float away at any moment. 

“So,” Billy says after a moment, “Fair warning, I’m gonna have to start complimenting you more if that’s how you react to it.”

Steve laughs quietly. His eyes are still closed, so Billy starts counting his eyelashes.

“This some kinda fairy tale, Hargrove? I kiss you and you turn into a polite human being?” 

“Hardly. But I’ll see what I can do about the happy ending part.” 

“The Disney kind, or the massage parlor kind?”

Billy kisses Steve again, grinning. “Both, if I’m lucky.”

And he was.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #a raven's writing desk #harringroveweekoflove #hello yes im still doing these #i have one for each day of prompts and they're GETTING written im just slow lmao

[quantumlocked310]

⁉️ = Give me a Fun Fact! (I’ll honestly answer any question you send)

I have two questions:

1. I want to know about all the pets you’ve ever had 😊

2. All the fandoms you have been apart of ❤️

I love these questions!!! Thank you for asking 🥰

1. I grew up always having Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. They’re so cute and I’ve loved all of them. Grover was the first (who I don’t remember very well cuz he passed when I was little), then Xtra who was so fluffy and a little lazy and so so so sweet. Both of them were from the same breeder. At some point when I was in middle school a friend of mine whose mom worked for the local SPCA let us know about a Ruby Cavalier (an all red coat) and so we adopted Fergie! Fergie and Xtra were quite the pair. Xtra went deaf and then Fergie went blind when they got older so they would lead each other on adventures. Adorable!! (The Cavalier featured below is similar coloring to both Grover and Xtra)

I haven’t had any pets of my own since then. I’ve lived in apartments since college, and had pretty crazy hours that aren’t conducive to pet ownership. Ideally I’d like to get a cat at some point, but I’m enjoying not having an animal at the moment. Considering I’ve lived with other peoples animals the majority of my time after college 😂 I went from living with 2 cats, to 1 cat, to 0 animals, then to 2 cats and a dog. The 2 cats with the dog was a lot, so I’m trying to decompress a little after that lol

2. All of my fandoms!??!?!?!? Oh my lanta… let’s see if I can remember them all. Like a lot of people I started in Harry Potter with Meetings in the Tower (a Dramione fic that I think has since disappeared from the inter webs). Then moved on to Drarry. That took up like 90% of my pre-tumblr fandom experience. Then I found Supernatural and Doctor Who. Destiel was my second OTP after Drarry. And tbh I just really enjoyed the show of Doctor Who and have never really read any Fan Fiction for it. But oh man. If you somehow are able to go look at the first like year or two of my Tumblr it will be 80% Doctor Who (it’s what I based my username on too). After Supernatural and Doctor Who (neither of which I actually watch anymore) I was very infrequently on Tumblr for maybe like 3ish years? Until Stranger Things came out… then Harringrove became my third OTP, until I watched Vikings this past year! And I found Hvitty boy and started creating content. Currently I’m also on the fringes of The Vampire Diaries (I’m a sucker for Klaroline) and some Marvel things. No real focus for pairings in Marvel (mostly reader inserts 😂), and Ben Barnes is his own fandom for me at the moment too.

That’s all 10 years of my fandom hyperfixations as far as I remember 😅 I know we have Vikings in common, but what about any others?

From my 800 Followers Celebration Ask Game!

#800melons #mutuals #ask game #💖 #fandom love #thank you thank you thank you #I guess I’m also in the TLK and Shadow & Bone fandoms too? #technically? #I’m such a lurker normally… Vikings really changed that for me

[pondermoniums]

Harringrove husband/dads headcanon! I’m working my omegaverse story today, so there’s a sprinkling of that too, but~

Steve’s love languages are quality time and physical touch/proximity. He needs to be physically close to the people he cares about.

It takes Billy a long time to figure out that he’s an actions kind of guy. This manifests in all sorts of ways: putting his ego aside to really say what he means, make Steve breakfast even though he thinks putting ketchup on eggs is some sort of blasphemy, etc.

Obviously these qualities come with their own drawbacks. Steve’s bad days mean he can be really overbearing; and because he’s self-conscious about it, he over corrects and completely withdraws from Billy until Billy figures it out and glues himself to Steve for as long as he needs.

Billy sometimes can’t just calm down with a really long hug or cuddle session. He needs actions given to him as well as doing them. Of course Steve is happy to provide, but Billy’s a doer, not a talker.

So imagine being a tiny tott, and seeing your grumpy dads kind of staring each other down with loud silent treatments until one of them breaks. Steve might ease himself beside Billy and feather-lightly rest his head on Billy’s shoulder while he’s shredding potatoes for dinner. A soft whisper is answered by a hard reply, and then an earnest whisper before Billy finally comes down to meet Steve halfway. And then Steve finishes making dinner for Billy, while Billy stays, if only to have his knee leaning against Steve the whole time.

The dads are kind of ridiculous, a lot of embarrassing, but a whole lot in love. And whenever one of them has to go out of town, or is working particularly late, or had to go into work early, and the other has to do their morning routine without the other, that empty space is really felt throughout the house.

These dramatic dads behave like someone died. Steve pulls out Billy’s mug before realizing with a heaved sigh that he’s wasting coffee if he makes enough for two.

Their son takes the mug before Steve can put it away, and finds a use for it. Eats cereal out of it, if he has too. Their daughter curls up with Steve on the couch in Billy’s place during morning cartoons. It’s a race to the phone for one of the kids to inform, “Daddy, come home for lunch. Papa’s moody.”

“Is he pregnant?”

“I AM NOT PREGNANT!”

A snort comes through the phone. “I’m on my way.”

Billy stiffly serves dinner like the world is balanced on his shoulders until their little girl sees the stress ease from her daddy’s face when she tells him, “I called papa. He’s bringing your favorite. Red velvet.”

He tells her, “Thanks, baby,” before his son distracts him with a tug on his sweatpants. Billy scoops an arm under his butt without thinking. Just heaving him up easily, only for their youngest to koala wrap around him. Even when Billy sits down to eat, his baby boy stays on his lap until Steve finally comes through the door, loudly announcing himself by dropping his keys, bag, and probably the cake he picked up on the way home. Because cake, why not?

And their kids try to ignore the sighs and kissing noise from the tiny foyer.

• • • • •

Once the kids are able to go to friends’ houses and see the difference, an unspoken understanding happens, both for them as well as their friends. The Harrington-Hargrove house is THE SPOT for everyone to hang out.

Alpha Billy knows how to ride just about any kind of board, and hosts whole neighborhood lessons for skateboarding, or for jaunts to the beach, surfing. Omega Steve (although nobody can tell the difference, and their kids don’t spill the details because they picked up real fast on prejudice bullshit) provides the safety for when one of the friends discovers their mom’s wine closet way too early in life. He’s a mom, dad, and loyal, rowdy uncle rolled into one, so the kids feel safe coming to him for their alcohol and weed curiosity in their pre-teen/teen years. That doesn’t mean he’s giving beer to twelve year olds, but he’s also not berating the kids for their natural curiosities.

Yes, eventually their house is the place where the teens smoke and drink cheap, sweet wine. But it’s better than dangerous jungle juice at a stranger’s house party.

And as fun as a pack of teens might be, a loving environment is magnetic. Steve and Billy lived their teen years through those parties because they needed something that they weren’t getting at home. Turns out, a quieter bonfire in an intimate backyard after a day at the beach drew the kids and their friends far more often than the parties.

Steve and Billy never hide their affection for one another. As the last log burns out in their fire pit, it’s been many years and the kids feel comfortable finally approaching the subject with them. How they do it: stay in love and liking one another. How open they are about things.

Steve admits, I think if I saw my parents hug more, I would be a different person.

Billy agrees. Too many broken plates in my house. I didn’t want to became a permanently violent person.

Steve laughed, Just see what doesn’t work and try differently, I guess. Too many hush-hush things in my house. My parents’ marriage was so under-wraps that they couldn’t dig themselves out to talk to one another.

Billy: Your parents were walking around like it was still the 1950s.

Steve: My mom’s beehive hair is legendary.

Billy: That explains a lot.

The conversation scares the kids in a very calm, adult way. A little bit of the real world, given to them in the safety of their best friends’ back yard, moderated by two dads who are able to guffaw over, Thank god they saw the light of divorce. Is your mom still coming over next month?

#I don't know what this is #i need to be stopped #but it's out of my brain now #so that's good #harringrove #head canon #dads au #omegaverse #harringrove parents #it's kind of a mix of stuff #pondermoniums

[carynsilver]

Favorite Stucky Fics

Reading has been a big solace to me during this time of sheltering in place, both novels and fanfic. I wanted to put a little positivity out there for some of my favorite fanfic writers as a way of saying thanks for providing some of the stories that have been brightening my days.

Today, I specifically want to give some love to my favorite Stucky fics. There is just something about Bucky and Steve’s contrasting personalities and their “to the end of the line” friendship turning into something more that is compelling every time, and I love it. I have read many, but these are my absolute favorites--the ones I go back to time and again.

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail by owlet.

Normally, amnesia/memory loss in a love story is one of my nope tropes, so the majority of my Stucky reading veers toward AUs. However, I saw a Tumblr post about this one, and I was hooked by the first chapter. Barnes is a compelling narrator as he figures out how to piece himself back together over the course of this series. It treats his recovery with so much care, and yet Barnes is also a hilarious and grumpy dude that it is fun to read about. There is a touch of unreliable narrator, which is a favorite trope of mine, but even when Barnes doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, he still gets to the heart of a situation in a satisfying way. This is now my preferred head cannon for post CA:tWS.

I just met you (and this is crazy) by @littlesystems

This was the fic that really hooked me on Stucky for the first time. I tended to avoid Stucky due to my nope trope on amnesia, but a Harringrove fic writer I loved recommended this so I tried it. Modern Bucky pulled me in and I fell into Shrunkyclunks, which then got me into Stucky in general. I love how modern Bucky can compliment cannon Steve, and in this fic, his personality is so pre-WWII Bucky that it’s perfect. Adding in Steve 1000% Rogers and some unexpected Tony heart are great additions. Faking dating is another favorite trope of mine, and while this fic isn’t classic fake dating, it skirts the edge in a really fun way.

Prince Charming by Brenda

Brenda writes awesome modern Stucky AUs, but Prince Charming is the best. The concept of someone who sets their exes up with their best friends is fun, and Bucky’s character growth as he navigates being bisexual for the first time is powerful. The supporting cast is great. I love the mix of Howlies and Avengers in his life, and Cap and Winter the pups are perfect. Also, there is something really compelling about both the tattoo shop setting in general and his specialty in tattooing scar tissue. And if you like this one, check out Off the Record and Lessons in Chemistry by Brenda, too.

Sweater Weather by @odette-and-odile

Another Shrunkyclunks, this one centering around holidays and important events. It starts with a misunderstanding in which Bucky doesn’t recognize Steve as Captain America, and it just gets better and better. There is real character growth in both of characters over the course of the series, the Avengers and the Barnes family get really fleshed out, and there is tons of humor as well.

food for thot by @deisderium

This fic introduced me to a new favorite trope--dragons living as humans who treasure a person. And then Deisderium turned the human into a vampire for good measure. The supernatural elements of this world feel so natural, and the dragon world is especially fleshed out in the most recent installment. Deisderium has a way with story-appropriate turns of phrases and writes thirst and pining like a master (check out deep dive and the one less traveled for more of that).

 Fan the Flame by Avaaricious

As you can tell, I am partial to modern AUs and Shrunkyclunk stories. This one started off with a funny “meet ugly” concept--swiping right on Tinder by mistake--but it has become one of the most well fleshed out, character oriented stories I’ve ever read. Bucky’s emotional IQ in this story is through the roof, and it touches on issues like PTSD with tact and grace. The chapter about Bucky’s no good very bad day made me teary. Also, this representation of the Barnes family as a whole is the best one I’ve ever read. Fair warning, this is the only one on my all time faves list that is still a WIP, but it’s worth it and chapters come out semi-regularly.

Slide to Answer by relenafanel

There should be more wrong number meet cutes in the world. I love Steve the relationship/dating guy accidentally misdialing Bucky the one night stand guy. And the sequel with Bucky fumbling through his first Christmas in a relationship makes the series.

Red Velvet (a.k.a. Sugar Sweet) by @colorcoated01

I’m not sure why I even started this one, because Daddy kink is not really my thing, but this story is so good that does not even matter. Steve is gorgeous, caring, and basically too good to be true, but what really makes this story is Bucky. He’s sweet, funny, and full of heart, but his youth makes him an unreliable narrator in ways both hilarious and delightful. If the summer vacation sequel to this series ever shows up, I will be so excited!

Not Easily Conquered by dropdeaddream and What Are Fears

In this AU, Steve survives the plane crash, lives to marry Peggy, and then, in the 1960s, a set of never-sent letters from Bucky to Steve during the war come out for public consumption, turning everyone’s life upside-down. This is a new one to my list of faves, but man, it was a gut punch in the best way. Here is the best quote: So how long have I loved you for? Womb to tomb, sweetheart. Since before I was even here at all.

If Wishing Made It So by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

I knew that my favorite Stucky fics list would not be complete without something from leveragehunters. This writer’s world creation skills are absolutely incredible. So many of these fics, I’d read and think, “This world is so good, so compelling, that I’d read it without the Marvel characters.” Amazing stuff, seriously! And the way she uses the familiar Marvel characters only enhances the worlds she’s created (and the ones she’s borrowed, too). I love so many of these, I was really torn on which one to put on the list, as there are many I revisit. Finally, I decided on If Wishing Made It So because I wanted one Shrinkyclinks story on my list, and this is a great one. The Winter Soldier as genie works so well, and pairing him with Skinny!Steve was even better. The way she weaves consent issues into the mix is compelling, and their adventures draw you in from the get go. And the all-powerful genie trying in vain to protect the guy who doesn’t want to be protected or healed is a great dichotomy. And if you want other Shrinkyclinks, you can’t go wrong with Chase This Light (dragon trope!) or And Shadows Fall Behind. And, if I hadn’t decided to go Shrinkyclinks on this entry, leveragehunter’s Werewolf? There Wolf AU would totally have been on the list instead.

#stucky #fanfic rec #fanfic #reading #highly reccomend #bucky x steve #bucky barnes #steve rogers #quarantine reads #thanks for writing these fics

[bucketofcowboys]

top 5 books? :) 🌻💗

To be completely honest...I haven't sat down and read a book in years (that wasn't for a school assignment...) So instead I will give you my top 5 fanfics!! (Be warned...most of these have NSFW in them)

1. Arthurs Journal: The Missing Pages by @azurejewel (RDR2 Tilly Jackson/Arthur Morgan)

This fic is so good! I've been watching her add each chapter onto this story for months and I just love it to death! With each update I get excited and its just so soft!! Would recommend 10/10

2. Paradise City by BarleyAwakeP1g (JJBA, Noriaki Kakyoin/Jotaro Kujo)

This fic has me HOOKED +-+ it's very smutty but also angsty as fuck at the same time. I'm mad that I was left on such a huge cliffhanger...but how the hell can I stay mad with such good writing!

3. not perfect, good by @holdenduckfield (probably one of my favorite Harringrove authors) (Stranger Things, Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove)

So soft and makes me wanna cry ;-;

4. (Doesn't really have a title, but I'll call it) Don't Make Me Wait Forever by @holdenduckfield (Stranger Things, Stever Harrington/Billy Hargrove)

I love it! Not only because I requested it but because its so fucking good! It fits the song so well and it shows how complicated Steve and Billy's relationship is and has to be!

5. Yesterday's Protagonist by @valiantarmor (P5, Goro Akechi/Main Protagonist (aka. Akira))

So good ;-; this was made pre-P5R (I'm assuming...) so the explanation they gave for Akechi coming back is so Cool! I love this fic so much and now I'm going to reread it again.

[astralda0602]

Hello!

Thanks for stopping by! My name is Astralda, and this is my Tumblr profile for my AO3 account under the same name. This is where I will be posting updates about the fics I am working on.

My ask-box is open for any questions you may have about my work, as well as prompts and requests for standalone stories, or aspects I might add to existing and ongoing works, should you have any.

You can find me in these fandoms (in no particular order):

Percy Jackson And Related Media

Teen Wolf

Star Wars

BBC Merlin 

9-1-1

Stranger Things

Shadowhunters (TV)

The Maze Runner

Doctor Who (2005)

Umbrella Academy 

Good Omens 

Marvel/MCU (pre-Endgame, I'm sorry...)

I am a shipper of many pairings within the universes, so if there is a ship you would like to see me write, feel free to send an ask, and we will see what could be done. Some of the ones I have written about before (posted and unposted) include: Percabeth, Stydia, Buddie, Newtmas, Harringrove, Merthur, Doctor/Rose (mostly TenRose), WinterWidow. I am also open to explore nearly every platonic pairting there is, in fact, sometimes I even prefer writing those.

I will happily write anything up to mature ratings. I like to keep my works as accessible to as many audiences as possible. That being said, some works will likely have more explicit aspects (extremely graphic themes, not necessarily of sexual nature).

An all encompassing content warning for my works is swearing. Other warnings will always be tagged, and chapter-specific CW will be included in top-notes.

Feedback is always welcome, and much appreciated. I enjoy reading your comments very much, and I try to reply to all of them as soon as possible. They keep me and the story going, they inspire me to keep writing, and I love hearing what you guys might have to say about the chapter in question!

I think this will be all. I hope you enjoy my works, I put a lot of work into them. It is my dream to become a writer one day (as a profession), and fanfiction is usually a good practice. Again, on this blog, I will be posting updates on the fics, and maybe some other shorter works, I don't know yet, we'll see. Thanks again for stopping by!

-Astralda 🦇

#ao3 #archive of our own #percy jackson #bbc merlin #doctor who #umbrella academy #good omens #marvel #mcu #astralda.txt #stranger things #teen wolf #star wars #911 abc #shadowhunters #the maze runner