#billy hargrove prompt

[love-toxin]

billy brainrot🤭 xxxi. "You're mine. Get that through your dense little brain." with him after a breakup!! pretty please

took me 1001 years to finish this but here i am babey

(cws: violent behavior, jealousy, toxic relationship, gn pronouns + fem nickname, possessiveness, post-breakup sex, needy billy, vaguely dubcon, shower sex, pet names, gaslighting)

Billy broke it off with you, not the other way around. He should not be the one banging on your front door, waiting by your car to catch you on the way to work, bothering you at your job to try and talk to you--and he especially should not be sabotaging your dates with other guys by showing up and causing a scene.

Punching your car window and dragging your date out to get into a fistfight with him? It's about as mature as a twelve year old's attitude. It was a first date too, not even that serious.

But that's just Billy. Just like it's quintessential for him to act all offended afterwards, like he's the one that's been put out cause you got mad at him. Then he starts up with the sweet talking, the "c'mon, mama", the kissing on your neck and telling you he missed you when you know he was messing with at least three other girls just this week. There's no reasoning with him, nor any point in entertaining his immature frame of mind. He's messed up and violent--a dangerous and unlikely-to-last cocktail for a partner.

Yet it's no surprise that you ended up in the showers with him, the pool empty and the parking lot dark since it's well close to midnight. You shouldn't have forced him to sit down with the first aid kit when he refused to go to the hospital for his cuts and that sprained shoulder--"'m not a pussy"--he said. It's different once the hot water hits his body, when he's got his hands bracing the wall behind you and his eyes burning a hole through your skull.

"You're mine." He growls over the hail of thudding water on linoleum. His skin burns as it slides over yours. "Get that through your dense little brain."

His muscles pin you like a brick wall against the shower, too broad and too strong for you to possibly resist. He slides your thigh up his hip to hook your leg around it, using the leverage to bump the tip of his rock-solid cock against you. That kiss he gives you is searing.

"Billy," You moan between kisses, your sentence finishing in a gasp as he slides in with a smirk. "You're an ass."

"You love me."

Thump. "No I don't." Thump. Each thrust knocks your head back against the tile, but Billy's hand creeps up to cushion it on the third time onward.

"You'd bite my dick off right now if you didn't."

"Nnh. I might still do it," Your warning comes with absolutely no venom, not nearly enough to wipe that grin from Billy's face as he gets exactly what he wants. Your answer makes him chuckle while he repositions you, hikes your other leg up with a grunt to hold you up against the shower wall. With both hands free you can cup his face as he makes out with you, adding to his perception that this is really what you wanted all along as your touches reminisce on a time not so long ago. When fucking in the pool room showers was a daily occurrence, tending his wounds was a kindness, and hearing him say 'I love you' felt like it actually had some meaning. Now it just feels like it's meant to placate you.

"Put on a condom, at least, you animal." You mutter amongst the sounds of skin slapping, tongues meeting teeth, and your back hitting the wet tile.

"I love you." He murmurs back. His voice rumbles against your throat, preceeding a soft but stinging bite that leaves a mark behind. You've got no idea what that answer means, but maybe it, too, means nothing. He could just be ignoring you for all you know.

"I'll pull out, baby. Y'know I will." Billy nips at your lower lip when he finally raises his head from your neck, having not had enough of using his teeth, evidently. "C'mon, mama. Love you."

"Quit it." That nickname hits you in the chest like a hammer on cloth, more than even those promises of love. He liked to tease you with that, then it became a term of endearment. You've always cared for him; reassuring his difficult emotions, cooling his anger, tending his wounds, even cooking for him and giving him affection in the simplest ways. Maybe that's why he's not letting you go. He can't do any better, but he can't let go of the only comfort he can find.

"That's it, baby..." He's losing himself now. His thrusts are aggravated, growing more aggressive as he reaches the finish line. His eyes squeeze shut and his grip tightens on your hair as his hips buck faster. "Squeeze down on it. That's it--that's, there--oh, fuck!"

The end comes as a surprise, a sudden moment of pleasure that overwhelms his ability to hold out. Billy's weight presses into you and you know--you just know by that distinct pulse inside you--that he's not pulling out like he said. Your nails dig deep scratches up his back as he closes in on it, harshly pressing your hips completely still as he forces himself past that one, last boundary that could've still allowed him an out. Now there's no choice but to drain himself inside you; cum splattering in thick drops down the drain as your legs tremble with pleasure. He always manages to get it on the last try--triggering your orgasm like it's a switch at the last possible moment. But he never misses, not even once.

Now it's sinking in. You're floating off your feet, barely able to stand when he finally lowers you down, and you have to let him hold you just so you don't fall. As much as you want to push him away, he made it so you need him to rely on. Again. And you don't feel as bad about it as you should.

"Break up with that dickhead." Billy growls into your ear, suddenly riled up again--probably over his own thoughts more than anything else. The way he has to tilt his head down just to reach your ear is a new level of intimidating...and regrettably, incredibly hot. "We need to get back together."

"You'll change your mind once your brain evicts itself from your dick." You mumble dismissively, nudging his arm down so you can grab a towel. But he stops you--he blocks you back under the water, his mouth barely a hair's width from yours as he whispers.

"I want you back, baby."

"This was a mistake. It was a first date anyways, weren't even 'together' in the first place...and I still don't want you back."

"Doesn't change the fact that I love you. We fit together." He murmurs into another kiss that you less than reluctantly accept. A lock of your hair curls around his bronzed skin as he twirls it round his finger. "Think about it, at least. I know you want it."

"Why the hell would I?"

"Cause you can't last a week without fucking me." That, at least, is true. But that doesn't...mean anything. Plenty of people backslide, it doesn't mean you're still in love with him. You turn your head in a pout and he smirks at the idea that he's right.

"I like your dick. Not you."

"Then take it every day." He grabs your hand and moves it over his crotch, just to laugh when you yank it away and slap him. It's not hard. Much less hard enough to make him feel anything but affection at how feisty you still are. "You're still mine. My pretty little slut-"

As he whispers low in your ear you finally break away from him, just barely stepping out of the shower when he grabs your ass on the way out. You have to wrench his wrist off to get him to let go and that's fortunately enough for him, but it doesn't change the downright predatory stare he gives you as he watches you dry off and get your clothes back on in a hurry.

"Come by the quarry later. Tomorrow. Let's have some fun in our old spot."

"Don't count on it."

You're done up and out the door before he knows it. Your car revs up in the parking lot outside before peeling out like a madwoman--and he can only imagine the way you're yelling and hitting your steering wheel as you drive, trying and failing to force your thoughts of him out of your head and the way that orgasm felt rippling through you, just as good as he always makes it feel.

He'll definitely be seeing you at the quarry tomorrow night.

[rigginsstreet]

TV APPRECIATION WEEK 2024 Day 2: Favourite male character -BILLY HARGROVE (stranger things) insp.

[oceanbilly]

after billy finally moved out he got a puppy. he wasn’t sure why he did it, he’d never had a pet before. but the apartment was too empty and quiet and he needed some noise that would remind him of max yapping in her room

[harringroveera]

Harringrove soulmates/soulmarks AU

[avalonlights]

for @billyhargrovebingo | C2: “finds a baby animal” 😌

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Angsty Harringrove idea where Billy goes missing and Steve's the only one who notices. Turns out Billy was kidnapped by someone (or something considering the Stranger Things verse), and he was completely convinced no one was coming to save him when Steve shows up to rescue him. Cue Billy becoming an emotional mess as he clings to Steve, who helps carry an injured Billy back to safety.

[akioukun]

for art prompts could you do this meme

with harringrove and its billy with a giant shark plushy? i'll take anything with billy and a shark plushy really if youre not down for this specific one lol love your stuff and congrats!

Idk ab you but I temp named him Mr. Snorkles. This shark's seen enough tears to fill an ocean. Thanks for the req! I loved every second of this <3

[thissortofsorcery]

30. “this is my husband/boyfriend”

SURPRISE!!!!!! Damn, you all sent me these prompts over a year ago, and I really dropped the ball. I finally got around to writing now that I'm trying to get back into writing slowly after taking a long break. Writing about the boys made me so so happy, I missed them so much. I hope you enjoy this, even a year later!

----

Soft prompt number 30: This is my boyfriend

Billy flicks the turn signal to park the Camaro on the curb, trying to ignore the anxious clench of his stomach. 

He hears the crunch of the leaves under the tires; the sidewalk is littered with them, yellow and orange and brown, picked from the branches of the trees by the wind. Fall is in full swing in early November, and Billy shivers at the cold air coming through the open window. He’s less annoyed with the cold than he used to be back when he first moved to Hawkins, but it’s still terrible. He’s bundled up in enough layers under his leather jacket as it is; Joyce wouldn’t let him leave the house without putting a sweater on, rambling about the weather in Indianapolis. 

Billy double-checks the address Steve sent him on the GPS needlessly — the university library stands tall and imposing to his left, the red bricks of the building looking faded in the watery light coming through the heavy clouds. It’s a two-story building that stretches wide across the lawn, with large windows and glass doors on the entrance. 

Steve is waiting for him on the steps.

He looks up toward Billy’s direction as soon as he steps out of the Camaro, familiar with the squeaky noise the door makes when it’s opened. There’s a grin stretching his lips wide, white teeth showing and eyes crinkling, and Steve climbs down the library steps two at a time. His gaze only leaves Billy to glance down at his own feet, trying not to trip on the steps.

Their bodies meet with a thud in the middle of the lawn, Steve’s arms coming down around his back tightly, and Billy sighs as he sinks his face into Steve’s neck and breathes him in. He smells just as Billy remembers.

The cold wind doesn’t break through the warmth of Steve’s arms, and Billy’s body relaxes, leaning his weight on Steve almost completely. Steve only hugs him tighter, holding him up easily — like he’s always done.

The tight fist in Billy’s chest lets go, maybe for the first time since Steve left Hawkins to go to college in September.

Rationally, Billy knew Steve wasn’t far, with Indianapolis being only a couple hours away from Hawkins, but not seeing Steve every day at school was more jarring than Billy had anticipated when Steve graduated in May. 

Billy knows from personal experience how insular Hawkins is. If moving from San Diego to a small town had been a shock, he can only imagine that moving from Hawkins to Indianapolis must feel the same, only in reverse.

Steve’s world expanded far beyond the comfortable bubble they lived in during the summer, and he met a host of interesting people he told Billy about during their calls, making friends quickly. Billy was happy for him; Steve still had some insecurities from the year he spent friendless aside from Nancy Wheeler, and Billy was glad he had people who saw Steve the way he did.

But there was still a niggling voice on the back of Billy’s mind, insisting Steve would get sick of him eventually. It fades down to silence now, blown out like a candle by Steve’s presence and his warmth, by the way he smiles at Billy like there’s no one else he’d rather put his eyes on.

“I missed you,” Steve says, and then he presses a kiss to Billy’s lips — with all the sweetness and hunger that Billy’s always felt from Steve, the feeling that Billy clings to when Steve’s not there, like an old sweatshirt that still holds his scent. Billy doesn’t wait a second before licking at Steve’s lips, turning the kiss dirtier than it should be in a public space, but Billy doesn’t care. Steve’s hands come to cradle Billy’s face, but not to push him away (they never do). Steve’s fingertips catch on Billy’s jaw, dig into his hair, until he can’t stop a shudder from going down his spine. Only then does Steve pull away, a smug smirk clinging to his spit-slick lips.

“Dickhead,” Billy grumbles, knees still weak, and Steve huffs a quiet laugh. Billy raises his eyes to meet Steve’s, eyelashes fluttering, and it’s like a punch to the gut and the first gulp of air after coming up from underwater. 

“I’m glad you could make it,” Steve says, but he doesn’t move an inch away from where his nose is grazing Billy’s, so the words are spoken onto Billy’s lips. “Let me show you—” 

A wolf whistle interrupts Steve’s words, and Billy sees Steve’s cheeks turn crimson before he pulls away to look back towards the library. He can’t help but scowl at having his moment disrupted — he wasn’t done with Steve.

“Hey, Harrington!” An unfamiliar voice calls, three college kids standing by the library steps, grinning with mirth. Billy identifies the one in the middle as the one who spoke, the only guy in the group, with a douchey beanie and vintage glasses, the embodiment of the college students Billy imagined luring Steve’s attention away from him. Billy notes the breadth of his shoulders and his square jaw, and his stomach turns sour. “Who’s your friend?” 

This is what Billy’s been afraid of. The demotion from boyfriend to situationship, the “I want to see other people” said into a phone late at night. Being brushed off in front of Steve’s new, interesting friends. 

Billy stands up straight and squares his shoulders, tilts his chin up so he can look at the group down his nose; the same stance he takes when he’s facing down something he wants to bowl over. Something he’s scared of.

But Steve turns back to look at Billy, and the warmth in his eyes hasn’t diminished at all. His thumb strokes Billy’s cheek before he slides his hands down Billy’s arms, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. When Steve answers, he’s grinning, wide and happy, teeth showing — the same smile Billy saw all summer.

“This is Billy,” Steve says. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

And Billy breathes out, the weight of his doubts falling from his shoulders and being brushed away in the autumn wind.

Steve squeezes his hand, and Billy squeezes back.

[runraerun]

Billy with hanahaki disease ?🌸?

Pain!:’)

I love it! Here ya go🌸🩸

Fic prompts are: OPEN if anyone else is interested 💌 -> 📬

Tw; blood, slight body horror.

—

It started shortly after Billy moved to this shitty little town in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He chalked it up to the air quality being dogshit compared to California, or maybe he was allergic to that pungent smell of manure that the locals seemed totally nose blind to. The absolute last thing he would have considered was a goddamn plant had started growing inside of him–a love plant.

It was rare. You were only susceptible to it if you had a certain gene that you inherited from your maternal line. Lucky him.

Guess he can’t say his mom left him with nothing when she packed her shit up and skipped town. No, instead of a forwarding address, Billy’s mom left him her shitty, fairy genes. Thanks, Mom. Real swell of you.

“Has there been anyone you’ve had your eye on?” The school nurse asks, voice pitched low, gentle, like she was trying to soothe some kind of volatile beast.

Billy spits another mouthful of blood into the pan he’s holding, the crumpled up flower petals that he’d just finished hacking up look like chunks of his lung rather than a part of a plant. Runs his tongue along his teeth to try and fish anything out that may have gotten left behind in the carnage.

“No.” He says, stubbornly. He doesn’t look up from the pan.

“Well, Hanahaki disease can only take root under very specific circumstances. It feeds off a pheromone our bodies release when we experience a certain emotion; the stress of a love that’s unrequited. It’s the only–”

“I said no, alright?” Billy barks, voice still a little ragged from his coughing fit. Like he’d swallowed with a mouthful of gravel. “Get off my back.”

The nurse sighs, but she doesn’t move to stop him when he puts the pan down beside him and gets to his feet.

“It’ll only get worse if you ignore it, Mr. Hargrove.” She warns.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Billy mutters, but he doesn’t have the energy to put any heat behind his words, so it doesn’t do much to wipe that stupid sympathetic look from her face. He grabs his jean jacket and leaves, shoving the door open with enough force that it slams back against the wall.

Despite his repeated denial, Billy knew who was responsible for this fucking mess.

Steve Harrington.

With his perfect hair and his stupid fucking Bambi eyes, lighting up every goddamn room he strode into with those long legs of his. Jesus… How could Billy ever have stood a chance?

Just thinking of him brought a tickle to the back of Billy’s throat. He suppresses a cough into his fist as he stomps down the hallway, now empty due to everyone else having gone home for the day. Except Billy, who of course couldn’t fucking breathe after gym class today after getting a little too rough with Steve.

It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way Steve elbowed Billy away, how he barked at him to give him some breathing space, yelled at Billy to fuck off already—it had Billy’s chest acting up.

He held out for most of the class, fighting against the fucking petals that were pushing their way up through his fucking esophagus by beating at his chest, shouting to clear his airways, but then in the showers, Steve had avoided him completely. Had somehow managed to slip and out of the stalls without Billy noticing, depriving him of their usual naked back and forth banter that Billy had come to look forward to.

It was one thing for Steve to hate him, but it was another thing entirely for Steve to be indifferent toward him. That was way fucking worse.

The sting of rejection quickly turned to a coughing fit, worse than any he had experienced before. Like he’s hacking up a fucking lung. A few of the other boys had asked him, ‘you okay man?’ or, ‘should we get the coach?’, and worst of all, ‘oh shit is that blood?’

Billy was barely able to shove his legs back into his jeans and shoulder one of his classmates out of his way before he stumbled into the nurse’s office.

Fat lot of good that did him…

He’s gotta pick up Max. He can’t afford to hang around and talk about his pathetic, one-sided love with a complete stranger anyway. Billy leaves the school, gets into his car, puts the windows down and cranks the music as loud as he can stand it, and he tries very hard not to think about Steve and this ever growing thing that’s taken root inside of his chest, steadily consuming him from the inside out.

Christ, who knew he was such a fucking romantic…

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Herding Cats

Day #23 - Up and Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Talk of Previous Sex, Brief Teasing about Daddy Kink, Minor Appearance by Billy | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie, Platonic Stobin, Minor Others | Tags: Road Manager Steve Harrington, Having to Herd These Assholes, Like Cats, Famous Corroded Coffin, The Morning After a Show

1 Night, 4 Rooms The morning after. Is also standalone, but everything is is below.

Eddie | Goodie | Gareth | Jeff | Steve (Bonus morning after!)

Steve walks down the hotel hallway, knocking on each door of their block, giving them each a shave and a haircut, two bits so they know it's him, but that he doesn't need them to actually come to the door, just get up and at 'em if they aren't already.

There's a hotel security guard watching him work, which he's pretty sure they didn't request. For better or worse, they've got their own security now.

And speak of the devil, and the devil appears, walking towards him from the elevator is Billy, and Steve pulls the daily schedule from his binder, and hands it off as they pass each other. Not stopping, not saying a word. It's easier this way. They can work together, but decidedly apart.

In the private dining room, Steve does a loose headcount. Crew is all over, filling tables, and Eddie's sitting with Gareth and Di, his plate already piled high. Jeff's at the buffet now, but Goodie's nowhere to be seen.

Steve catches Billy's eye, taps his watch, holds up the number three, and rotates his hands in a well? motion.

Billy gives him the three back, then points upwards. Then switches his extended finger to his middle one, flipping Steve off. Fucker.

The baseball-style hand signals work well, but there are downsides, unfortunately. Steve's given them each a number: Eddie's one, Jeff's two, Goodie's three and Gareth's four. 

And three's missing.

If Steve doesn't see him in ten minutes, he'll go do an in-person wake up call.

Still no Goodie.

Goddamnit.

Steve lets himself into room 1013, and Jesus Christ. It looks like a tornado hit it. The condom wrappers alone.

At least he was safe.

On the bed, Goodie is facedown, bare-assed. Scratches all up and down his back.

"Goods!" Steve yells, banging on the dresser with his fist.

Goodie jumps, startled awake.

"Morning, Casanova. Breakfast, ballroom seven," Steve says.

He's still not moving.

"Charles!" Steve yells, and Goodie growls in response. Steve'll pay for that later, but at least Goodie's responding. 

"And put something on your back, it looks awful," Steve says, only staying long enough to make sure Goodie is moving.

It's like herding fucking cats. Feral, maybe a touch rabid, cats.

Back at breakfast, Eddie's clearly looking for him.

"Steve," Eddie says, and pats the empty chair next to him, "Come. Sit. Eat."

Steve looks at his watch. Yeah, he better do that if he's gonna before they go.

Standing at the buffet, Robin comes up and hip checks him, "Hey, dingus. You look tired," she says, and he feels tired. It's gonna be a long fucking summer, no matter how this all shakes out. "Let me pick up some of the slack. Put me to work."

He leans down and kisses her head. He just may have to, for his own sanity.

Goodie eventually blunders in, looking a little worse for wear. 

"Hey, Daddy. Long, hard night?" Gareth says, and everyone that had been within earshot last night laughs, while everyone else is just confused. Steve hadn't actually heard any of this himself, he was long asleep by then, but Gareth made sure to relay all the dirty details to anyone that would listen. 

Apparently whatever hellcat Goodie brought home last night had a daddy kink that they all loudly got to experience. They didn't even have to pay extra for the show.

Steve's shocked Eddie didn't call the hotel to complain about the noise. Goodie did that to them once, and he knows Eddie would love to repay the favor, just for fun.

Goodie reaches down and squeezes Gareth's neck from behind, but he's laughing. Steve's already seen the scratches on his back, and now he can see the marks all up and down his neck, so he must have really caught himself a wild one.

Good for him.

"They can call me anything they want, as long as they fuck like that," Goodie says, reaching over Gareth's head, pulling all the bacon off Gareth's plate. There are complaints, of course there are when it comes to Gareth and Goodie, but Jeff is walking by and just takes bacon from his plate and drops it on Gareth's.

Keeping the peace.

It's not like there isn't an unlimited supply. They paid for it, they can eat all they want before the bus leaves in, Steve checks his watch, forty-six minutes.

It's a day off, and they don't have far to go, but they still have a schedule to keep, and playing catch up is a pain in the ass. It's so much easier to stick to it, even if he has to strong-arm them to get them anywhere on time.

Steve stands by the steps of the bus, marking everyone off as they get on. The crew bus already situated, and long gone. But Goodie's been on and off their bus twice, as everyone else was settling in for an on-time departure. Steve looks up at Saul, the bus driver, "We're waiting on Goodie to get on again. And then we're ready."

Saul gives him the thumbs up. 

Goodie comes walking back across the parking lot, six-pack of beer under his arm. Hair of the dog, Steve supposes. 

"That it? We're good?" Steve asks, and Goodie nods behind his sunglasses, shuffling up the steps and crashing onto the open spot on the couch next to Jeff.

"Wild night, huh?" Jeff asks Goodie.

"I'm fucking sore. Everywhere," Goodie moans, and Steve chuckles as he does the final headcount. 

He thinks they're all here, but he doesn't want to get fifty miles down the road and realize Gareth isn't anywhere to be found.

Not again.

Eddie's in his bunk, reading. 

Billy's foot is dangling out of his, blocking the aisle.

Steve steps over it, and knocks on the back bedroom, getting responses from both Gareth and Diana. That's everyone. All here.

"Saul, it's all yours," Steve says, sliding into the jump seat, as the bus finally pulls away. 

Next stop, Jacksonville.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[weird-an]

Jim Hopper doesn‘t know what crime he has committed to be punished like this. But that‘s what you get from being a softie and taking in another stray in.

Billy is pacing up and down in the living room, spitting insults and mumbling incoherent sentences.

”I don‘t really get what‘s happening here“, Jim admits. He leans against the kitchen counter. He has been watching the teenager for 15 minutes now. He has no idea what‘s going on.

”I… I… bought that fucking polo shirt for Steve and now his parents came and gave him the same fucking thing. I can‘t find the fucking receipt. I spend so much money on it.“ Billy is nearly screaming.

”What?“ Jim asks dumbfounded. He feels like he is missing several things here. A polo shirt? For Steve?

”Are you fucking deaf, Hopper?“ Billy groans.

His foster kid is a drama queen, Jim decides.

”Why would you buy Steve such an expensive gift?“

Billy‘s face turns crimson red.

Oh.

Jim sighs. ”Get your jacket.“

”Are you throwing me out?“ Billy stares at him, eyes wide and fearful.

Jim rolls his eyes. ”No, we‘re buying your boyfriend a Christmas present.“

”He is not-“

”Can I tell him you said this?“

”No! Please, okay, he kind of is my boyfriend.“

”Let‘s go then.“

[plistommy]

I always love a jealous tommy fic. There's so much to explore there. Did he and steve "practice" when they were younger? How does he feel now seeing steve almost blatantly hanging off of another man (eddie or billy, or both hehe)? It's so delicious that tommy in canon obviously assumed steve would always be His, that he was bound to be asshole king steve with tommy forver, and then steve went and changed. Replaced him with someone else. Discarded him. I love when it's so obvious that tommy didnt even maybe respect steve as a person, just the roll steve "the hair" harrington was and now, seeing steve be allowed to just be himself, shamelessly, with another man must make tommy's blood boil. He missed his chance

Tommy felt like he would puke.

There Steve was, laughing so loudly and sweetly with Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson on both sides of him, looking at him with such loving eyes that Tommy would love to rip them off and spit on them.

The three of them were hanging at their schools parking lot, Steve perched on top of his beemer as the other two leaned on it. The freak had clearly made some type of joke, because Steve was letting out a ’You’re so funny, Eds!’ as he tried to catch his breath.

The nickname made Tommy fume with rage.

Eds? What the actual fuck was Tommy hearing?

Four years back he and Steve would make fun of that guy, even bullying him a little when he started to wear those freaky ass clothes. People rumored him being into Satan or some shit and Steve and Tommy totally bought it as they laughed at him in the hallways.

And now Steve was throwing himself at the guy as he leaned towards him, hand lingering a little bit too long on the older man’s shoulder.

Tommy saw how Billy, the asshole who had dropped him almost immediately once he got to know Steve, moved his hand to rest on Steve’s thigh in a friendly way from other curious eyes, but Tommy could see through the bullshit.

He knows what those three are. What they do together.

They aren’t just friendly buddies who come together about sports and music and talk about hitting on girls.

They’re together. Partners of some sort which makes Tommy fucking sick in his stomach.

He knew Eddie was into guys the second he saw the freak, Billy probably too, but he wasn’t that sure.

It was only confirmed when he saw the way Billy looked at Steve the first time they showered together after PE.

Everyone looked at Steve once that way. With desire and want.

Wanting to have a taste of The Steve Harrington. Of the King. The rich pretty boy with the charm no one had.

Tommy knew it the best, because that’s how he had felt.

He had felt it when him and Steve had kissed for the first time, hands lingering on each other’s body when Steve had carefully leaned down and put those soft lips onto his.

Or when he had fucked Steve the first time. Those eyes so huge as they stared up at him when Tommy had clumsily lined his dick into the other’s waiting hole. And oh did those eyes go huge as Steve took him in so well, like no one has after him. How he had begged for Tommy’s name, told him he loved him.

And Tommy had loved him back.

Still fucking did.

But then he had fucked it up. Played with the other’s feelings, fucking up with his head which eventually made Steve leave him, his best friend, for fucking Nancy Wheeler. Things had broken that little head of Steve’s too many times and he had finally shattered, showing that sensitive and humane side of him that Tommy knew he was always hiding behind his King Steve persona.

The side he had hated. Because he liked it when Steve was mean.

He blamed the hits Jonathan Byers had given him.

That maybe those made a screw inside Steve’s head loose because how could he ever even think about leaving Tommy like that? After everything?

But he had.

And it made Tommy furious. Sad. Jealous.

Because that should’ve been him up there with Steve right now. Holding onto the boy's thigh and maybe kiss a little if no one was around.

Tommy would give him all the attention he needed. Would’ve fucked him so good no one else would’ve mattered. Steve would’ve never even thought about spreading his legs to Eddie Munson or Billy fucking Hargrove.

Just for Tommy.

”What’s up your ass?” Carol asked, focused on putting her disgustingly sweet lip gloss on, but not enough to not catch Tommy’s suddenly grumpy vibes.

”Nothing.” Tommy groaned out and took a bite of his sandwich.

It tasted bitter now.

Carol brushed it off, going back to chatting with Tina who was sitting beside her, oblivious to whatever Tommy was doing. Not like she really cared. Tommy was sure they’d break up soon, again.

Not that he’d mind.

He glanced back towards Steve and gritted his teeth when he saw the trio start to get in Steve’s car, all happy and smiley because they had ’so much fun’ together.

Ugh.

He didn’t miss how Munson patted Steve’s ass softly when he was bending down to the passenger seat and wait… what the fuck?

Was Billy fucking driving Steve’s car?

Steve never let anyone else drive it. He was too afraid to. Never trusted anyone else with it because his Daddy would get mad if it had even a small scratch on it.

Tommy never drove it.

And that pissed him the hell off, because Billy Hargrove of all people can?

The man with three fucking speeding tickets?

His blood was boiling.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the car.

Not even when his eyes locked with those big brown ones that suddenly looked worried when Tommy didn’t look away.

[metalhoops]

There are lots of modern aus with rockstar Eddie, and actor or professional sportsman Steve but I propose professional wrestler Steddie. I know this is niche, but hear me out. Wrestling is the perfect mix of sports (Steve) and drama/ camp (Eddie). 

You have a baby face Steve Harrington, who the crowd adores because he’s charismatic on the mic and not afraid to get a little bloody in his matches. Then you have heel Eddie who the crowd loves to hate. He’s got a Lost Boys-style vampire gimmick going on, heavy metal entrance music and has adopted the habit of walking in through the crowds. He’s amazing in tables matches and will take any opportunity to do a choke slam through the announce desk. 

The two don’t face each other in the ring often because Steve’s in a longtime feud with Billy Hargrove, whose a hell of a heel but downright dangerous in and out of the ring. He often refuses to sell for Steve and to make matters worse he’s a fan of not pulling his punches. 

Eddie and Steve don’t talk much in the locker rooms, they run in different circles and Eddie has the sneaking suspicion Steve is a stuck-up asshole (he’s not).  

They end up in a Royal Rumble match, where thirty-odd competitors get in a ring and fight to be the last one standing. Eddie’s sticking to the script. He keeps close to the guy he’s in a feud with until he catches Steve take a bump out of the corner of his eye. Billy’s on him and he’s not pulling his punches. Steve’s nose is gushing. The producers will be pissed because the T.V. network is getting squeamish about showing lots of blood. It’s not the 80s anymore. People don’t do that. 

Against his better judgment, Eddie decides to go off script. He takes Billy by surprise and manages to get him over the top rope. He wasn’t supposed to win anyway, so it wasn’t like they were going to dock his pay. He might get hazed in the locker room but that was a worry for another day. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Steve looks at him and shoots him a brilliant smile, his teeth filled with blood, his eyes shimmering with mischief. Someone tries to grapple with Eddie from behind but Steve intercepts, saving his ass. Eddie wasn’t meant to win the match either but he wanted as much airtime as he could get. He hates to admit it but he and Steve make a good team. Viewers seemed to agree. 

The next day Eddie is approached by his manager, telling him the higher-ups want him and Steve as a tag team. Which means one of two things. He and Steve were going to see a lot more of one another, and for once, Eddie was going to have to play the role of the good guy. It ends with them getting up way too close and personal in practice and pining hard over one another. 

[avalonlights]

"Did you keep the receipt?" for @harringroveweek Day 1

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Huge fan of bisexual Harringrove having a somewhat open sex life. Like, call it swinging or whatever you want, they do it, but they’re super weird about it.

By which I mean they’re still them, they’re super into each other, so if they’re hooking up with other people, they’re doing it together. They’re gazing at each other the whole time and I can just imagine a few scenarios where they almost forget about whomever they’re screwing because they get distracted by each other so easily.

I can also image a plethora of scenarios where Billy (or Steve, doesn’t necessarily matter) is being very attentive and cooing at the person they’re having sex with, saying stuff like does that feel good baby and the like.

And so the person (person C, we’ll call them) is kind of surprised because Billy didn’t strike them as the type? So they blush and answer him and he’s straight up like “I was talking to him.”

Cut to Steve on the other side of the bed doing his own thing with a toy or another person, and person C is like oh. What the fuck.

Like does that person come back for seconds? Hell yeah. Are they completely perplexed after every dick appointment? Also yes.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

I found this on Instagram and I want to write so many of these!!!!