hargrov - Tumblr blog

[hargrov]

Internet personality Steve Harrington likes to have a little fun too~

After the countless weeks of his fans questioning who his mysterious lover is he decided to throw them a little bone.

No matter how hard they try to enhance the photo the results are still inconclusive but the majority is starting to realize this could actually be Billy Hargrove.

Thank you to these lovely people who let me use their urls for my au 💕

@hephaestn @ashyyboyy @officialjoekeery @spocknbones @stedilly @imsodishy @riordanversexreader @tundrrra @emzular @bruise-pristine-serene @onebrainsel @big--yikes

[hargrov]

Romeo and Juliet but make it a crime family rivalry AU Moodboard

[hargrov]

love your shitty little sister, max

[hargrov]

"Listen, man. Stop apologizing. It was self defense. I backed you into a corner. I shouldn't have started it."

Billy's face turns red and he feels like he might explode. He isn't sure if he wants to laugh or cry or scream.

He's turning out just like his father; hurting people he claims to care about, even if he's only ever admitted it to himself.

But something snapped when his options became going through Steve or taking another hit. He reached out on instinct. The plate was the closest thing. He doesn't like knowing that it could have been a knife; or something heavier, like an iron skillet. It's pure luck that Steve survived that fight; and Billy hates himself for it.

Steve seems to read his mind, reaches for his hands and checks for bruising or blood. Soft and gentle as always, Steve searches for his own answers, rather than asking Billy for confirmation.

He showed up, out of the blue, on Steve's porch. Middle of the night in December is cold, so Steve dragged him inside without a second thought.

It's who Steve is. The protector. The babysitter. The guy Billy knocked out with a plate and then his fists.

He hates the way Steve looks at him, glancing past bruises to give him a look that says he's never done a single thing wrong in his life. Like Steve gets it.

"You wanna stay here tonight?" Steve asks, releasing his hands before wrenching open the freezer door to glare at the icepacks on the shelf. They're all rigid, no good for injuries. So he grabs a bag of frozen green beans and tosses them to Billy. "For the shiner," he says over his shoulder, giving Billy time to formulate an excuse. He makes a lot of noise sifting through the cabinet by the door to find aspirin. He tosses the bottle to Billy as well.

Neil was serious this time. Billy is no longer welcome in his house, no longer his son.

"I can stay," he says. "If you're sure."

"Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't," Steve assures him. It's a lie. There's no way he'd have turned anyone out into the Indiana winter, even if he hated them.

He doesn't hate Billy. That's what he's been trying to convey with the icepack, and the aspirin, all of it. Like feeding a stray cat until it comes close enough for you to pet it. It's subconscious, but it's intentional. It's what he'd hope for if the situation were reversed.

"Did you eat yet?" He asks, leaning next to the stove. Giving Billy space.

Billy shakes his head. No, Susan was making dinner when Neil decided now was a good time for a tantrum. They weren't paying enough attention to him, and Billy was gonna take the punishment for it.

Steve hums low in his throat, thinking over what was in the house. Spaghetti but Billy doesn't like mushrooms. (Steve totally doesn't make mental notes of everything Billy complains about, everything Max has mentioned, the way he slides certain things to the side of his lunch tray before throwing it in the trash. No, that would be weird.)

He decides he'll just call in an order to Benny's. He recently added a third shift to take advantage of the thru-traffic overnight. The travelers. Benny will probably deliver it himself rather than send his one overnight waitress or the cook. He's a good guy like that, would rather brave the snow himself than send one of his crew.

The knock on the door startles Billy, who had zoned out after Steve's last question. Hadn't heard him pilfering for the menu or making the call.

Steve pats his shoulder as he walks by, as if to say that everything is fine.

Billy doesn't follow him to the door. Somehow he's convinced that it's Neil, searching him out to continue their fight. He knows it's ridiculous. Neil wouldn't look for him here anyway. Wouldn't look for him at all. Still, he stays put.

Steve returns with two greasy paper bags and starts rummaging around for plates. He finds them, his favorites from the thrift store that his mother likes to hide at the back of the cabinet. They're colored glass and Steve thinks they're neat. He sets a blue one out for himself and after some internal deliberation, choose the yellow one for Billy.

He unwraps Billy's burger before placing it on the plate, tossing the crumpled wax paper into the bin from across the room. Then he unwraps his own cheese steak, puts half on his plate then thinks about it for only a second before placing the other six inch half on Billy's along with his burger and fries. He hasn't eaten since lunch, and Steve innocently noticed he didn't eat much then either. Steve tosses the other order of fries onto his plate before leaning into the fridge for a couple of Cokes.

"Ice or no ice?" He asks, finally getting Billy's attention.

"No, thank you," Billy says, and it makes Steve laugh.

They weren't friends before tonight but that doesn't stop Steve from reaching out to ruffle Billy's curls. "Lighten up, man," he smiles.

Billy doesn't crack a smile. He's actually pretty sure now that the pressure in his chest is tears threatening to choke him. He could have killed this guy, almost did; and here he is sharing his food, taking care of him, asking him if he wants fucking ice... Letting him sleep in the guest room.

"Hey, hey! That's like the opposite of what I said!" Steve says in a panic, and Billy realizes he is crying. Silent tears streaming down his face. Steve doesn't think about it when he reaches out and pulls Billy into him. He hugs him like he's trying to force the broken pieces back together.

Billy cries harder. Steve doesn't let go, just plays with the ends of his hair and rubs his back. After a minute he says, "let's go eat. You can pick the movie."

Steve carries both plates into the den, comes back for both drinks. He stops in the doorway to give Billy an expectant look. Follow me, it says.

Billy does. He thinks maybe he always will.

[hargrov]

‘You’re ok, I’ve got you’   Some Harringrove season 3 hurt/comfort

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it’s the last missed assist that does it.

something’s been off with hargrove today. more so than usual. steve doesn’t give a fuck about the moody asshole and his mercurial temperament, except for when it’s costing them a serious chance at the tournament. any chance to get out of this town for a few nights. steve’s not gonna let hargrove ruin this.

the door slams against the brick exterior of the high school building, steve storming out after practice in search of the fucker who keeps shitting on his chances for a few quiet, monsterless nights. he spots hargrove’s taut form as he jumps at the sound.

if steve’d been paying attention, he’d probably be wondering at the way hargrove’s kept near silent these past three weeks, eyes nailed to the ground as if avoiding steve’s face will undo everything. he’d have a queasy feeling about today, how hargrove’s been flinching away from him during practice. flinching like—haunted.

steve’s only out here for that last wasted winning shot, though.

‘what’s with you today?’

hargrove shivers, and doesn’t even bother hiding it. something’s—way off. the way his jaw clenches looks painful, in a grounding sort of way. ‘take a hint,’ he growls, ‘stay the fuck away.’

steve—sees red. ‘listen, fucker,’ he hisses, manoeuvring hargrove around with a force that leaves them both reeling, ‘you wanna go around throwing tantrums, that’s none of my concern. but i need to score a place at that tournament, and you don’t get to spoil it for me.’

hargrove laughs, but it’s watery, delayed. ‘maybe you should learn how to hold on to the ball then.’

‘maybe,’ steve growls, jabbing a finger at hargrove’s chest, the two of them in a loop neither can escape, ‘you should learn to keep your crazy outside the court.’

instantly, hargrove steps back, lip trembling in a way steve recognizes as uncontrollable. ‘stop yelling,’ he mutters, barely audible over the rustle of the trees across the street.

it—stops steve in his tracks. the arm raised in mid-air falls limply to his side. he can finally see hargrove’s haunted look for what it is, in all its painful familiarity. the look of the prey, moments before the kill and ruthlessly aware of it.

‘okay,’ he says, deflated, palms splayed open in surrender, ‘i’m not.’

hargrove’s frozen, looking at steve’s hands like he’s surprised to find them empty. a car revs in the distance, and hargrove breathes shakily, pale as death. ‘last night,’ he says, ‘i dreamed you killed me.’

steve stumbles back, face stinging from an invisible slap. ‘that—jesus, that’s fucked up.’

‘that bat,’ hargrove goes on, still staring at steve’s hands, waiting for the magic trick, ‘doesn’t belong to my sister. she was keeping it in the house, i’d have gotten wind of it.’ he finally raises his eyes to steve’s. ‘it’s yours.’

‘yeah. i—yeah. it’s mine. is that what i—’

hargrove creeps closer, virgin mary bouncing at the movement. slowly, he raises a hand up to steve’s face, fingers curling under his jaw to lock him in place. he traces the edge of a fading, rot-yellow bruise with the tip of his thumb, along the jawline. ‘does it hurt?’

steve’s holding his breath, afraid something might shatter. maybe he will, or the whole world around him. ‘not anymore,’ he mumbles, ‘two weeks ago, i’d’ve screamed, but it’s almost—’

‘i’d deserve it,’ hargrove says. ‘if you did.’

‘i’d never.’

hargrove laughs, warped and mirthless. the tips of his fingers climb higher, pressing on the curve of steve’s cheekbone. ‘i know,’ he says, ‘ain’t it funny? we’re both scared of the wrong things.’

‘i’m not afraid of you,’ steve says.

‘i am,’ hargrove whispers, voice carried by nothing but the proximity, ‘terrified of you. my life’s a bad dream i can’t wake up from but you—you’re my nightmare.’

up close, steve watches hargrove map the fading colors on his face, follow the line of bruises he left there. he traces the matching colors on hargrove’s face that steve didn’t.

‘i wouldn’t do that, either,’ he tells him. on his face, hargrove’s hand is trembling. the arm hargrove’s keeping to himself is looking miserably desolate, so steve catches his wrist inside the circle of his fingers. ‘you know,’ he says, ‘getting into the top 25 means lots of overnight trips. out of state, even. definitely out of this town.’

hargrove lets his hand drop, still shaking. ‘i’ll do better,’ he says.

steve takes a step back, then another. ‘i know.’ he realizes it’s true once it’s out there. ‘the rooms are twins, by the way. it goes alphabetically.’

[hargrov]

Confessional // Sue Zhao

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[hargrov]

Part 2 to my Harringrove YouTuber AU

Steve Harrington's community is on fire and already the fans have coined this suspected couple "harringrove".

They're looking for Billy in all of Steve's old posts, combing through videos and posting their screenshots. So far Steve has yet to confirm or deny the link between him and the surfer but most fans have agreed that this is Steve's mystery boyfriend.

Harringrove YouTube AU

[hargrov]

season 2 except steve is still “king steve” and billy is the new kid but instead of chasing for steves title he just keeps to himself, doesnt talk to anybody, has a bunch of rumors going around about him that he did some fucked up shit back in cali and thats why his dad moved him out to indiana. some say he killed a guy, some say he blew up a government office, some say he ran with the cartel… billy never comments on any of it tho. lets people think what they want. he’ll be out of there in a few months time anyway

but steves interest is piqued and one day in front of the whole cafeteria he goes to sit down with the new kid, billy all alone at his table reading some book until steve starts chatting him up, has this cocky air about him

and like billys smitten immediately but hes also already learned his lesson about fooling around with pretty boys like steve harrington so hes got his guard up, wont give steve the time of day. gets his shit and leaves

but of course steve is used to getting what he wants and he wants billy. even moreso after such blatant rejection

anyway cut to steve constantly ambushing billy when they see each other around town etc etc steves charms eventually wear billy down. they start hooking up in secret. keep it as strictly sex and nothing else. until of course they start actually enjoying their time together with their clothes on and theyre seen hanging out at school and everyone wonders how steve managed to get in with the new kid also everyones panicking cuz they think billys crazy and is gonna kill steve which steve admits its kind of amusing this concept of him being in this supposed danger being in billys presence when in reality billys the one on his knees for steve every night but no one needs to know that little detail besides them so

yada yada billy and steve growing closer and opening up to each other and steves the only person who knows the real reason billys in indiana now (shitty divorce between his parents coupled with neil finding billy with his ex boyfriend one night)

and steve gets the softer side of billy no ones allowed to see and billy gets the caring compassionate version of steve no one else thinks exists… and theyre both still total bitches to everyone else around them :’) wholesome

[hargrov]

the day Chrissy is introduced to crystals and gems is the day Billy Hargrove starts carrying around a small rose quartz in his left pants pocket

‘it’s for the heart’, is what she said when she placed the pink crystal in his palm, ‘it heals. keep it on you always, okay?’

he hated it, at first. thought it was stupid. but, looking into her eyes, he knew he had no other choice. he’d do anything for her because she only wanted the best for him.

so, it was always in his pocket - jacket or jeans - and he slept with it under his pillow. he held it in his fist when he was stressed or anxious. he put it on his windowsill when it was sunny, to absorb the warmth and cleansing, to shed the negativity it had collected.

and the worst part of it? the stupid little stone helped.

because when he finally got his hands on Steve Harrington, pressing the pretty boy against that ugly wallpaper in his bedroom, Steve grabbed at his ass with both hands and pulled away from the deep kiss when he felt the hard little lump to mutter, ‘what’s that?’

‘rose quartz,’ he hummed absently, kissing down Steve’s throat, not wanting to pull away for even a second now that the tension between them had been cut.

there was a soft laugh, not at Billy, because Steve reached back into his own pocket and pulled out a small stone, showing Billy a nearly identical rose quartz that was his.

Billy glanced down, blinked, and let a slow grin spread across his face when he realized.

‘Chrissy,’ they said in unison, laughing gently together.

of course Chrissy would give them the same crystal, meant for love - for new love.

when their lips met again, Billy promised himself that he’d buy his best friend some pink roses as a thanks.

[hargrov]

ante up (baby)

Harringrove | M | Complete | 6.7k

From what Billy could recall, Steve wasn’t very good at losing. 

Like, was a loser, a total loser, but that didn’t mean he was good at it. When they lost basketball games in high school Billy would be pissed, but Steve was always furious, one step away from kicking cans in the parking lot and shouting at Tommy for how he fucking fumbled that. It almost made Billy want to lose, just a little, to see Saint Harrington’s chain rattled. To see if he’d actually snap for once.

What Steve was good at, apparently, was poker. Within three hands that was obvious, the stack of plastic chips in front of him inching higher every time. 

“Beginner’s luck,” Dickie said, and Steve simply shrugged and took a sip from his beer. But there was something in his eyes, something smug. Something that didn’t come across when he glanced at his cards or tossed a chip onto the table. With cards in his hand, Steve was a practiced liar.

The next three rounds went the same as the first, groans rolling around the room while Steve grinned. Then Steve lost a hand. His cheek muscles twitched. He tossed his cards on the table and said, “I’m getting a beer." 

The words came out half-right, somewhere between nonchalance and venom, and Billy’s blood thumped. There it was. Maybe shit-heels like Dickie wouldn’t spot it, but that was some genuine grade-A Harrington rage. Dickie, with his royal flush of dumb luck, was too stupid to see the warning signs out ahead. Tommy, Vince and Sam were too busy counting out their chips to care. 

Since high school, Steve had clearly gotten better at keeping himself in check. He definitely wasn’t a good liar when Billy had been prodding him at school, both of their cards easy to read, hands bleeding. Something had changed.

Billy tapped a plastic chip against his chin and turned his beer bottle on the table. He needed to learn how to count cards.

Read on AO3

[hargrov]

safe zone❤️‍🩹

I wanted to practice drawing comics, but I hated drawing the background the most😂

[hargrov]

[hargrov]

Inspiration

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“I am coming for all the monsters that ever touched him, I am coming for all the ones who twisted his stars into shadows, They turned him into a nightmare, So I’m going to be theirs.”

— and they’ll never wake up // k.s.

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