#it’s why i love Harringrove fics

[midnights-dragon]

people getting angry when abuse victims relate to billy hargove and sympathize with him because abused children who are never out from under their abusers thumb will lash out and be angry as a fear response since that’s all they’ve ever known is WILD

[weird-an]

”Billy, just tell me what‘s wrong!“ Steve‘s voice is urgent.

Billy frowns at him. ”What are you talking about?“

”You are bleeding on the floor.“ There are a few drops of blood on Steve‘s bedroom floor.

Oh shit. He didn‘t realize on of the stitches he made earlier had torn. Getting blood off a carpet is hard. Especially if said carpet probably cost more than Billy‘s life.

”Sorry, I‘ll clean it up later,“ he promises.

Steve seems angrier than before. Billy will have to clean the floor really good. Maybe he can calm him down with a handjob afterwards.

”What the fuck? Let me help you!“ Steve throws his hands up in exasperation.

Billy is surprised by the movement. He manages to suppress a flinch, but instinctively takes a step back. Touch and blood equals broken bones. A lesson he has learned ages ago.

”I… don‘t need help cleaning the floor. Thank you. I‘ll renew the stitches and then get started,“ he assures Steve and then hurries into the bathroom.

He frantically digs through the little bag he has been hiding underneath the sink. He is running low on disinfection, but he will manage.

”WHAT FUCKING STITCHES?“ He hears Steve yell through the bathroom door. He really sounds upset.

Shit, Billy doesn‘t want to blow it. He needs to come up with something to calm Steve down and make him forget about the carpet.

[lostlimerence]

“It’s happened. I’m batshit.”

“No listen…”

“I’m crazy,”

“Stop..”

“Finally lost it..”

“Sunshine, please just wai…”

“Eds please stop pacing for a second.”

“Stop pacing?! I don’t know if you’ve noticed but California’s stopped working Stevie?!”

“I know, I know! I’m trying to think, your manic energy isn’t helping!”

“My manic energy?!” his voice hitches up an octave as he gasps, feigning hurt, he stops pacing and crouches down to gently wave a hand in-front of Billy’s face. The blonde clocks him, gives him a little dopey smile and whispers “ hey Eds, it’s finally happened I’ve gone insane,” Eddie smiles back at him, gives him a little pat on the head before standing back up and turning to Steve “yep, broken.”

Steve frowns, “he’s in shock Eddie, remember how you were when you first came across…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie flaps a hand, as if trying to waft away the memory. Steve walks over, giving Eddie’s arm a little squeeze as he goes to crouch in-front of Billy “hey baby,” he whispers gently “we really need you to get up,” Billy chuckles and reaches out to stroke Steve’s cheek “hey Stevie! Guess what, I’m finally in the madhouse, don’t worry though Munson’s in here with me!”

Eddie gawks “what did he say?!”

Steve laughs a little “you heard him Eds, looks like you’re an inmate too, I’m just a visitor,” he pushes back up and takes in the scene.

Billy cross-legged on the forrest floor, Eddie wide-eyed and restless glancing between their seemingly catatonic boyfriend and the lifeless demodog that lies a few feet away from them.

Eddie chews at the corner of his thumb nail, stares at Billy and says “we probably should’ve told him about this sooner…”

“I mean yeah no shit Eds, it’s not like we haven’t tried, it’s just, you know a little hard to bring up…”Steve trails off on a sigh as he strolls over to the body, looks down at its grotesque meaty flesh and grimaces “we need to get rid of this.”

Eddie hmmms his agreement as he goes to stand next to Billy, placing a protective hand atop of his golden curls. “Ugh we have no spade, no bat, no nothing, arghh we should’ve brought the beamer, it comes equipped with all the monster battling shit we need!” Steve nods, fists his hand in his hair as he thinks.

“Ok, maybe if you wait here, while I….”

“Nope, nuh-uh, not happening baby! What am I supposed to do if another one comes?! How am I supposed to protect our beautiful, but quite frankly currently useless, boy down there if another one comes?! What if they’re like wasps and this dead fucker is like emanating a stink that says avenge me avenge me! Oh gods Stevie what if this thing is….”

“Stop! Yeah, yes I get it, I get it bad idea, bad idea, we can’t just leave it here though…” Steve looks at Eddie, glances down at Billy “we’re gonna have to put it in the Camaro.”

Billy’s head snaps up “No way.”

Eddie gasps hand flying to his mouth like some offended Victorian lady “really sunshine?!! You finally come back to us and it’s for that stupid car?!?”

Billy cocks a brow, rises to his feet dusting off his jeans “it’s my baby,” he says completely serious, Eddie, if it’s possible, looks even more offended “I though WE were your babies,” he shouts frantically waving his arm between himself and Steve.

Steve presses his thumb and fore-finger to the bridge of his nose, inhales, exhales, ignores Eddie’s theatrics and turns to Billy “we’re putting it in the Camaro.”

Billy looks him dead in the eye and squares his stance “not happening pretty boy.”

….

Billy stares at the demowhatevers body in the trunk of his Camaro.

His eye twitches slightly. Eddie pats his shoulder “close her up California, it’s time to hit the road,” he flashes him a steady grin. Billy slams the trunk, climbs into the passenger seat and thinks about how calm Eddie and Steve are.

“So errr, what the fuck?” he says raising his brow glancing between Steve, who is driving and Eddie who’s leaning forwards in the middle of the backseat.

Steve catches Eddie’s eye in the rear view mirror and that’s all the musician needs before he’s off describing demogorgons, spider monsters, mindflayers, and some place called the upside down to a frankly astounded Billy.

He takes it in, tries to place it in his reality, fails to do so repeatedly, but then he remembers the stinking corpse in his trunk and he knows this isn’t Eddie’s wonderful, yet overactive, imagination. It’s real, concrete, they have the body of a demodog in the trunk of the car and they’re going to put it in a fucking freezer until they can bury it, not only that but Steve has done this once before.

He has too many questions, so he asks none of them and instead opts to zone out for the rest of the journey. Tries to let his mind process the immense amount of information he’s been given in peace, mumbles a promise to Eddie that he’s not going to ‘go catatonic’ again when the man starts voicing his concern.

….

Later he lies in bed staring at the ceiling, Eddie mumbles one last sleepy gripe in his ear, something about him loving the Camaro more than them, he just chuckles and presses a kiss to the side of the man’s head as he drifts off to sleep.

On his other side Steve, whose head is settled on his chest, whispers “you ok baby? I know, I know this is a lot to take in…” Billy takes a deep breath and mumbles softly “yeah it is, but don’t worry about it sweetheart, it’s fucked sure, but I’m an expert at fucked up situations, this is just another one, gotta roll with the punches right?” Steve snorts quietly “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

“It’s the only way of looking at it pretty boy,” Billy smiles up at the ceiling, feels his eyes drooping with sleep, whispers “goodnight,” hears Steve say it back.

It’s been a long-ass day and they need their sleep, besides they have a demodog to bury in the morning.

[every-dayiwakeup]

They complete each other 🤭

[thatgirlwithasquid]

wow the brainrot is bad.

like, i knew it was bad but... i was listening to some of my current favourite songs and my brain immedietly went 'i could use this as inspo for a harringrove fic' and then the next song came on and my brain went 'this one is steddie and we must start writing right now'

i have never done this before literally ever about anything. this is a problem.

[myriadof-fandoms]

harringrove week day 4 - kickstart my heart

prompt: 2am conversations

ao3 link

There's a hole in the middle of his chest that aches and makes it hard to breathe. Like he’s been hollowed out. 

That's how he feels. Hollow.

Steve would love to know why emotions have to come in physical form too. Why words can feel like gut punches.

'You don't love me?'

'It’s bullshit.'

Steve swears he can feel the words driving through him still. Carving him out.

The alcohol helps a little. He’s almost grateful now that at least this happened at a party with enough people around that no one even noticed what happened and much more than enough bottles of liquor to send his mind in a haze. 

He’s been sitting in Tina’s garden for hours. When he left Nancy in the bathroom it was barely 11 and now it’s 2am and there’s somehow still people dancing inside. It doesn’t even feel like half an hour with the way his thoughts spiral and make his throat clog up. Thoughts about every single time Nancy had said she loved him, had reassured him and held him close. He swallows down the sobs that try to claw up his throat and forces back the tears. Crying at a party isn’t a level of humiliation he wants to reach today. He feels pathetic enough as it is. 

Obviously though, when it rains it pours. And obviously, that means that the fucking new keg king has not had enough for one night and is making his way over to the small wall that surrounds the garden and that Steve has chosen as his place to brood. 

And Steve really, truly, doesn’t want to fucking deal with this, "Dude, if you want to start some sort of pissing contest just don't bother alright? I'm not in the mood."

The Terminator wannabe, Billy , Steve remembers, stops before him. 

"Damn, who pissed you off then?" 

Maybe it's just the fact that someone is even bothering asking. Maybe it's that Billy is lighting a cigarette while he speaks and then leans against the wall next to Steve, clearly with no intention of leaving. Maybe Steve is just desperate for company. Or maybe it's that Billy's eyes are this ridiculously shade of blue that makes Steve feel like someone pulled the ground out from under him.

"My girlfriend just told me our relationship is bullshit." The last word burns in his throat.

"Jesus," Billy laughs. There's no actual ridicule in it though. He holds out his cigarette to Steve. Steve stopped smoking completely when he and Nancy got together. 

He takes the cigarette. 

And then he coughs his lungs out after the first drag.

Billy has the audacity to laugh, “What, that your first?”

“Shut up,” Steve manages between coughs. “I stopped smoking for her.”

Mentally he is clapping himself on the back. Great job, Harrington. Tell the new guy even more information to use against you.

Surprisingly, he gets a hum in response that almost sounds sympathetic before Billy speaks again, "The small brunette one? The one that was standing next to you earlier?"

Earlier, when Tommy had introduced Billy to Steve in the most obnoxious way possible. When Billy had been right in Steve's face, sheen of sweat glittering on his chest and breath smelling of smoke and beer. 

"Her name's Nancy," Steve says, before passing the cigarette back to Billy.

“What did you do to earn her dissatisfaction with your relationship then, amigo?” And yeah, right, he’d be the type of person to just drop amigo in a sentence. Steve’s alcohol muddled brain is not charmed by it. 

Somehow, Steve’s still got a small instinct for self-preservation, “What do you care?” 

Billy’s laugh is empty again, “I really don’t, but this is somehow the most interesting thing that has happened in this shithole of a town so far.”

That seems fair. 

Steve wonders if Billy would still think Hawkins is as boring if he said, ‘ Right so, Nancy apparently thinks we killed her best friend, because we didn’t manage to stop her from being eaten by this otherworldly monster.’

“Well, I am bullshit because I wanted to go to this party. And I’m bullshit because I didn’t want her to get absolutely shitfaced. And our entire relationship is also bullshit because as it turns out she doesn’t actually love me.”

Steve still feels pathetic. He just stares straight ahead and waits for Billy to make fun of him.

Once again, it doesn’t happen.

“Princess doesn’t know any other words besides bullshit?”

Billy’s tone is clearly derogatory, and judging, and Steve should be more offended. He should be because this guy just insulted his girlfriend’s choice of swear word.

Ex-girlfriend. 

Steve laughs instead. In his peripheral vision he can see a little smile on Billy’s face, too. The word that’s been burning a hole into him for the past 3 hours doesn’t feel as bad anymore now.

When his laughter dries up he holds out his hand for the nearly burned down cigarette. Billy’s fingers lightly touch his when he hands it over, sending tiny shockwaves through Steve’s body. Billy’s skin is warm, like he’s spent the day in the sun rather than under the gloomy clouds of fall in Indiana. 

Because Steve’s brain absolutely is not equipped to deal with that sensation, he keeps talking. 

“We’ve been together for nearly a year now,” he pauses when it hits him again. “Were. We were together for almost a year.”

“Fuck,” Once again, Billy sounds actually somewhat sympathetic. 

Steve takes one last drag and stubbs out the cigarette.

It doesn’t twist in Steve’s chest when Billy gets up.

He stretches when he stands, making his leather jacket ride up and exposing a sliver of his naked back underneath to Steve. His skin there is just as tanned as the rest of him even if Steve thinks he can make out a faint scar on Billy’s spine. 

His fingers itch to reach out. But Billy’s already lowering his arms and turning back around. Steve hastily moves his eyes up to Billy’s face.

"You know, Harrington, maybe it's not you. Maybe she's just a bit of a bitch.” 

And with that he’s gone again. 

Steve sits on the wall some more before he makes his way home. He doesn’t think about how much lighter he feels after the conversation with Billy. He doesn’t think about Billy’s touch or his eyes or his golden skin. 

The hollowness in his chest aches a little less. 

Steve really isn’t thinking much more about Nancy that night.

[unlikely-alliance]

Chapters: 11/11 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & The Party Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Will Byers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler, Joyce Byers, Jonathan Byers, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper, The Party (Stranger Things), Erica Sinclair, Argyle (Stranger Things), Ms. Kelly (Stranger Things), Stranger Things), Susan Hargrove, Neil Hargrove Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 03, Alternate Season/Series 04, POV Alternating, Mutual Pining, basically s4 with a harringrove twist, Soft Billy Hargrove, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 04, Canon-Typical Violence, we deserve a soft epilogue my love, Romance, Family, Alternate Canon, Couch Cuddles, but mostly billy's pov, completed before volume 2 aired 

Summary:

“Ok. Maybe you could… come visit her? Next week is spring break, so the timing is pretty perfect. It, uh— it’d be nice to see you.”

Hm. Yeah, that… that’s actually not the worst idea he’s ever heard. He could probably handle a visit back to the hellhole that is Hawkins. It will be hard, sure, but it’s been quiet there, and it’s not like he’s moving back. He’s got a comfortable home here now and—

Wait.

“It’d be nice to see me?” Billy repeats before he can stop himself. “Nice for Max? Or are you saying that you miss me too, Harrington?”

//

Billy survives Starcourt, hitches a ride to California with the Byers, and ends up staying with them indefinitely. When it seems like Max may be having some trouble back in Hawkins, Billy is convinced (by Steve Harrington of all people) to visit her for spring break. He should be able to manage a week in Hawkins. It’s not like the Upside Down is a threat there anymore so… yeah, he’ll be fine.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

[dragonflylady77]

i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?” 

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. “Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

[spaceofentropy]

Thank you, @ihni , for the baton! Without further ado, here's my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race!

It's a little fic (that I'll post on ao3 later, when I'm awake and cosplaying as a functioning human) and that is very cleverly (not really) titled...

A Pirate's Life For Me

Billy's always known he wasn't lucky in life and this, right here, is the culmination of it all.

Not even two months at sea, working his ass off for a meager pay in the hopes of earning enough to exstinguish the debts his father and Chrissy's father put on their shoulders before dying, and his ship gets captured by pirates.

Worse: captured by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who has a reputation as a great swordman and a ruthless bastard who doesn't leave survivors.

Billy did his best in the fight, but he's just a farm boy turned deck swabber, his swordmanship goes very little further than "the handle goes into your hand, the pointy part goes inside the enemy". So now he's kneeling, hands raised, on the deck of the Panthaira, along with the rest of the surviving crew and passengers.

Well, with all the survivors except Captain Loman, who's huddled against the main mast. The Dread Pirate Roberts is crouched in front of the captain and talking to him in a low voice while the captain clearly draws his last breaths, shirt painted a vivid red with the blood gushing from the puncture wounds in his chest. Loman was a petty tyrant, so Billy is not exactly bawling his eyes out at the prospect of the captain being gone soon. It's just the principle of the thing that counts. The Panthaira has been captured, and, to put it mildly, Billy is fucked.

There are too many pirates keeping them under threat of more stabbing, and also no damn place to go even if he were able to escape the ship. They're in the middle of the ocean, nothing but water in every direction for hundred if not thousands of miles.

So Billy stays where he is.

And looks either at the back of the Dread Pirate Roberts or at the slow rising and falling of Loman's chest.

He waits and hates how his arms are getting heavier and heavier by the second. Soon, he'll be dead and, back home, Chrissy will have to mourn her best friend too, not just her parents.

Captain Loman's chest at last goes still and Roberts extends a careful, gloved hand to close the man's unseeing eyes, before turning towards his prisoners in one swift, elegant movement.

Robert's dressed all in black and wearing a mask, just like the stories say. He has long brown hair tied in a low pony tail, and dark eyes that sweep the crew and passengers of the Panthaira like he can weigh the wort of each of them with just one look.

Billy lets his hands fall down, tired of this charade. If he's gonna die anyway, what good comes from obeying? Might as well die with some feeling left in his arms.

Someone shouts at Billy to raise his hands again and he just ignores him. Roberts is walking their way, his steps slow and his attention pointedly fixed on cleaning blood off the blade of his sword.

Somewhere behind Billy, a woman starts weeping. One of the crew members pleads for his life. Another offers all the money he's got to be spared.

Bunch of cowards.

Roberts stops in front of Billy, ignores everyone else.

"You're not pleading," he says in such a voice and cold tone that the people around them fall silent, too scared of what's happening.

"I don't plead."

"Aren't you scared, boy?"

"To death."

Roberts grins. It makes the moles on his cheek dance.

"Should I bestow on you the sweet mercy of death, then, or not?"

Billy licks his lips and grins back.

"You should let me live, sir."

"And why should I make an exception?"

That's the true problem. Both Billy and Roberts know it, judging by the predatory look in his eyes.

Why, indeed.

"True love?" Billy tries.

Roberts laughs.

"She must be an exceptional lay, to make you believe someone will let you live only so that you'll be able to bed her again!"

"Wouldn't know, I've never wanted to fuck my best friend. Is there truest, purest love than the one that's never been tainted by lust or carnal needs?"

The Dread Pirate Roberts laughs even more and then shakes his head.

"Unbelievable," he says in a stage whisper. "What's your name, boy?"

"Billy."

"Well, Billy, I find myself in sudden need of a personal attendant." Roberts pauses for a beat, cocks his head to the side. Predatory is now an understatement for the look in those dark eyes. "Do a good job and one day you'll be able to return home to your best friend. Do a bad job, and your friend will never see you again. Are you interested in the position?"

Billy grits his teeth and never lets his gaze waver from Roberts.

The decision is so simple he doesn't even need to think about it. He nods and Roberts smiles.

Billy doesn't know what's in his future, but he'll do all he can to survive whatever Roberts throws his way and then return home. His best friend is waiting for him.

And with this, my installment of the race is done and it's time to head over to @liverditty in an hour for his contribution! I can't wait to see what he created for this beautiful event! In the mean time, thank you for reading, fair tumblr users, and thanks for organizing this, @harringrove-relay-race ! ❤️

[lorifragolina]

Harringrove lovefest day 3

I almost forget I had a fic for this day too... I can't edit it entirely so I'll publish only the first half today :) I didn't come to a title yet... The prompt is "Bleeding love" @harringrovelovefest

Part 1

Rating: E WC: 2084 I felt inspired by a @applewillowstone CaliGator fic but I later made it Harringrove. Thanks anyway because that fic is obsessing me!

No Ao3 for the moment :)

U up?

The message lit the mobile on Billy’s nightstand. He looked at the time, 1 am.

It was way past bedtime, but he was lying widely awake in the bed, eyes sore, incapable of sleeping.

U up? 

Stve harrington wrote the message. They were kind of friends now, some beer at the quarry and some one to one match at the baseball court in the park, with bruised hands and knees in result, and generally a sort of truce that took away at least a problem from Billy’s mind. The others were still bleeding, like his nose a few hours before. He would graduate in a few weeks, but he couldn’t work at his plan B. He had to use almost all his money to repair his car, and although he really wanted to go away, he couldn't for the moment.

He took the phone. He really wanted to sleep, but it was the third night in a row he couldn't get any sleep. His mind and his heart were racing like hell and he couldn't calm down enough.

Watsup?

He answered.

Can’t sleep. Going for a car ride. At U in 10.

Ok.

He cautiously sneaked out the door, nobody would check on him until the next afternoon. Steve’s beamer approached quietly in front of his house and he entered.

“What’s up” he asked again

Steve shrugged, grunted a little. “Just can’t sleep”.

“Why don’t you call your girl?” mocked Billy. Steve shrugged again, saying nothing.

“Troubles in paradise?” grinned Billy. “She doesn’t answer in the middle of the night”.

Billy bit his lips. He should have known he wasn’t the first choice.

Steve kept driving down the highway. They passed the Hawkins sing and the radio was playing quiet music, in a low volume, and Billy laid his head to the window, looking to the little piece of sky he could peep. He closed his eyes and started snoring quietly.

“Ehi,” Steve touched him. “Ehi, I wouldn't call you if I knew you wanted to sleep”.

“Uh?” Billy opened his eyes, confused. Steve snickered.

“Are you sleepy?” he smiled.

“I… I just…” suddenly Billy was feeling all the lack of sleep invading his body, he was glad he wasn’t driving. 

Steve parked near a gas station. “No, stay inside. I’ll just buy a coffee, ok?” 

Steve returned after a while and put the paper cup in the cup holder, then went to open the trunk.

“Here”, he covered Billy in a blanket, and Billy blinked, still sleepy. He muttered something.

“Don’t worry, we’ll return to Hawkins now”.

Billy wasn’t able to stay awake, not even until they left the parking lot.

“Come on, sleeping beauty,” Steve opened the door and tried to drag him outside. He left the banket in the car, and Billy blinked a couple of times in the fresh air. He didn’t recognize the place.

“... home?” he asked.

“No,” answered Steve. They’re in the middle of the woods and Steve opened the door of a little cabin, inside there was a little stove, the tv, a sofa and a bed behind a little bead curtain. Steve took a beer can from the fridge, while Billy was desperately trying to feel less drowsy. 

Steve drove him to the sofa and turned on the tv. 

“You ok?” he asked again. Billy dropped his head.

“Do you prefer the bed?” continued Steve, shaking him again.

“No…” whined Billy, craving for laying in a warm blanket again.

Steve giggled. “Come on”, he gently dragged Billy again, this time to the bed. Billy sat on the edge, confused, trying to resist a little. “Don’t worry, Hargrove, have some sleep, at least you”, he smiled, returning to the sofa and having his beer. He lowered the volume. 

Billy sighed, then took off his pants in the bed, in a mild attempt of decency. He looked to Steve another time, then slipped inside the sheet, and he fell asleep the instant he touched the pillow.

After another hour watching the TV, Steve went to bed too. Billy was sound asleep, ruffled, like it was the first good sleep in days. Billy whined a little when the bed moved under his weight, but he didn’t wake up. 

Steve clinged the blanket around himself and fell into a broken sleep. 

Billy woke up refreshed for the first time in weeks. He initially freaked out, it took a little to him remembering where he was. Then he barely recognized the cabin and recalled the ride with Steve. He sat in the bed, looking for Harrington, but he couldn't see him, but a pot of coffee was gurgling on the counter. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Steve came from the door after a few minutes, just when Billy was pouring the coffee in a cup. 

“Hi,” said Billy. 

“I’m sorry I don’t really have food,” said Steve pointing to the junk food, chips and popcorn on the counter. “And I’m sorry but if you thought about a shower, the boiler just broke”.

“What… what kind of place is it?” said Billy, hesitant. “It’s your fuck pad?”

Steve giggled. “Kind of. It’s my grandpa's cabin, I sometimes watch the sport here”.

Billy nodded, tasting the shitty coffee. 

“Did you sleep well?” grinned Steve, pouring a cup himself. 

“I’m sorry. You could just drop me at home”.

“I didn’t really want to be alone,” Steve shrugged. He spent part of the night looking at Billy’s sleeping, he had the impression he needed a good sleep, and he was a little envious of the ease he fell asleep in no time. He wished he could sleep in that way for once, instead of staring, eyes wide open, for long hours every night.

“I wasn’t a good company,” snickered Billy, dropping his cup in the sink. “Do you mind driving me back home?”.

Steve stared for a long moment at Billy’s face and his uncombed curls, making him feel uncomfortable. Then he dropped by Billy's home, and he went directly in the shower. It was hard to confess, but it was the best sleep he had in a month.

Billy couldn’t say how it happened, and Steve didn’t know either, to be honest.

They graduated, Steve’s parents were in town, and he was struggling with them, the part time job at the ice cream parlor that they considered a shitty place, and his girlfriend Wheeler, they came back together after the brief affair with Byler. Apparently everyone wanted a piece of Harrington, and he needed a break every now and then, more than every now and then, really. 

In those moments he started to call Billy and they went together in the cabin, isolated from the world, and they watched sports or played video games. Or just sleep, Steve gave Billy the key if he wanted to go there to take a nap quietly. After graduation, Billy’s troubles to sleep increased, he barely could stand his father and the rest of his family, although, oddly enough, Neal had stopped to abuse him physically.  

He still never went to the cabin alone, but he always took the opportunity to sleep soundly there; and after a while, he stopped feeling embarrassed and he went to bed when he felt like it. 

They started to talk. A little, at the beginning, stupid things like rants on their parents - Billy didn’t share Neal’s abuses, but it was good venting without consequences for once-, on their jobs, they laughed a lot on Karen Wheeler’s tries on him. Steve vented often about Nancy, he still felt hurted and she didn’t seem to notice it, tormenting him instead with relationship goals and the eternal discussions about college. 

And Harrington was funny; his moles danced when he laughed at his own silly jokes and at the smart Billy’s comebacks; and he was pretty, and Billy already knew what he was and what he liked, but he didn’t see the danger until it was too late. He dreamt Harringtpn lips, his brown eyes and his luscious eyelashes, his hands through his hair and that juicy ass inside the Scoop ahoy uniform. He can have only that and he tried to accept it.

When they slept together, sometimes Steve rolled on his side and slightly touched him, just casually in his sleep. Billy was used to sleep rigid like a rock in his house, but in Steve’s bed he felt enough confident to move, and they ended often tangled together, in each other arms. Billy stood still in those moments, enjoying just the little warmth he could steal from him.

“So she keeps arguing with me because I don’t commit enough, apparently. But… she’s always with Byler, and you know…”

Billy sighed and nodded. It was some time that Steve vented constantly about Nancy, she was angry with him for something and he had troubles trusting her. 

“Perfect”, he angrily banged the mobile on the nightstand. “She doesn’t want to touch me but is able to get on my nerves every moment”. “Don’t know how she can refuse to have sex with you”, muttered Billy, lowering his eyes and his voice.

“What?” Steve was in underwear, sitting over the sheets. Billy was already in the bed.

Billy blushed, avoiding his look. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s just what I am. I’m sorry,” Billy repeated, whining because he had just outed himself. “Do you want me to go?” he whispered, even lower. 

Steve shook his head, and Billy released his breath a little. Steve kept staring him in the eyes, surprised. And absolutely, incredibly stunning, Billy couldn’t stop thinking of it even in that moment. 

Steve leaned a little towards him, and Billy gulped. Steve’s mouth was opened, plumpy and pink, but Billy flinched, shivering. He looked over Steve’s legs, and blushed, noticing the curve of his bulge. He bit his lips, mouth watering, but he wanted to be a good person for once. 

Then Steve grabbed his arm, and Billy could feel his warm breath near him. He slipped a hand on his thigh, tucking his fingers under the edge of the boxer. He came out of the bed and walked in front of Steve, keeping their fingers intertwined. 

Steve caressed Billy’s jaw with his fingers; Billy knelt in front of him without a word, and pulled his boxers down. 

Steve whined hard when Billy’s lips touched his tip; he was half hard, but when Billy looked at him from behind, his dick twitched and swelled. 

He started to moan fast and he grabbed Billy’s hand, pushing him on himself wildly; Billy’s tongue circled his length and he took all of it inside his throat. He gagged, but still sucked with all his senses and didn’t let Steve go. 

He grabbed his own dick, palming it over his brief and moaned in return, aswering to Steve’s moan. 

He felt Steve pushing fast in his mouth, he hit the back of his throat and pulled Billy's head. Billy tried to move, but Steve pushed his head again and came in his mouth. 

“I’m… I’m sorry”, he whimpered at Billy’s cough and tears. Billy didn’t say anything, but passed a hand on his face. He looked at him with red, sad eyes and he stood again, lingering in Steve's touch on his cheek. 

He went to the bathroom while Steve tucked himself again in the bed.

It is only because he missed Nancy, he told to himself looking his face in the mirror, cleaning a drop of cum on the angle of his lips. He was just aroused, he just needed to unload.

When he came out, Steve was lying with his back turned.

“it was just… to thank you…” whispered Billy again, trying to play cool.

“Thank me?”

“For… let me sleep here. And well… you miss Wheeler…”

“Of course”, Steve cut off.

“Do you want me to go?” Sighed Billy, gasping.

“No,” said Steve inside the pillow, without moving.

Billy sighed again and entered under the sheet, lying just at the edge, giving his back to Steve too. 

After a while, already to the edge of sleep, he felt Steve moving and reaching him at his side. He slipped a hand on his waist.

”Steve, no,” sighed Billy. “No…” But Steve pulled his back against him, caressing him sweetly, and Billy turned on lying on him, falling asleep on his hairy chest. 

He woke up after Steve, as usual. He wasn’t in the bed, and he heard he was outside turning on the hot water. He wore his clothes again and took a cup of coffee. 

“You awake…” said Steve getting inside again, with his eyes low and an uncertain voice. “All good?”

Billy nodded, with a knot in his throat. He forced himself to smile nonchalantly. 

“‘’f course”, he said.

“About last night…”

Billy blushed. “It doesn’t mean anything”, he answered, like he wouldn't care.

“I mean… you…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before… is it a problem?”

Steve smiled, keeping the distance. He shook his head. “No. I don’t care, really. Ok?”

“We’re good?” 

Steve nodded, relieved. “Yes, we’re good. Don’t worry, dude”.

Dude… Billy laughed bitterly inside. He felt ashamed of his lack of control, for letting Steve know he was a fag in that way, and for… maybe ruin their friendship for his stupid desire. 

And again, neither he nor Steve could say how it happened, again and again. They never talked about it. They kept hanging out for the sport or the tv, or to go for a ride in the middle of the night and then sleep together in the bed. But from time to time, and day by day more frequently, they just looked each other in the eyes, and Billy dropped on his knees.

They just exchanged some little words. “It doesn’t mean anything”, Billy kept repeating to himself, craving all the time to have Steve in his lips. “We’re just bro”, said Steve, enjoying him on his knees and hugging him in the bed after it.

Nancy was out of town, and in any case they didn’t touch in any other way. They didn’t kiss, they just looked each other in the eyes. They didn’t reciprocate, it was just letting their steam off while they hadn’t regular partners in hand. 

Steve had a girlfriend, and they barely talked about her now, but it wasn’t cheating, it was just sport. It wasn’t sex either, mouth didn’t count. 

Or so Billy tried to convince himself. He felt dirty, and he said to himself he could stop at any time, that it was just a way to spend spare time. Steve never said anything, but he caressed his cheek more often and smiled to him, and stared at his lips, but he didn’t make any move.

Billy swallowed once more, gagging and coughing, grabbing his own hard dick over the boxer. He moaned, while Steve took off his soft dick from his month. Normally, he climbed on his side of the bed in silence, thanking Steve inside for the following hug. 

“Come here,” said Steve that day, instead, taking the hand that was touching himself.

Blly smiled but shook his head. “Yes, come here,” whispered Steve again, making him lay down on his back at his side. “Quiet, don’t worry”.

Billy’s heart started to race, and he swayed a little when Steve pulled down the rubber of his underwear. He lightly touched his happy trail, with his hair bush, and then touched the delicate skin of his base. 

Billy tried again to free himself. He felt harder every minute, but he felt it was also harder to justify.

“Harrington…” he called with urgency. Steve wanked him, tickling his leaking tip again and faster. 

Steve shushed him. “Quiet. Don’t worry”,he repeated, then he pushed him on a side, spooning him, pressing all his chest on Billy’s back. 

Billy felt near to the orgasm. Nothing was lost if Steve wouldn't make him come, but Steve trapped him between his legs and didn’t let him go. 

“Come on, Billy…” he whispered sweetly. “Let me see”.

Billy came into Steve's hand. He felt Steve’s lips smiling on his nape, while he moaned like a slut and kept coming on Steve’s fingers. 

Steve cleaned himself with a tissue and hugged him again driving him in his sleep. 

They didn’t talk about it the next morning, or in the next few days. Billy felt dirty, guilty when he returned home that day, but the next day he let Steve touch him again, and the next day and the day after that. It wasn’t important, as long as they avoided kissing or… having proper sex. Their lower parts never touched each other, and it was totally innocent and not gay, and not cheating. Steve just had needs and Billy was helping and being helped. To be continued

[manwrre]

i am absolutely ravenous for a jennifer’s body themed harringrove fic. and if i write it, it’ll be purely self indulgent so please don’t make me (make me make me make me).

like, i kid you not, when i say that billy’s the perfect character/candidate for any kind of possession trope. he’s pretty and popular— with his half-wild grin, fervent eyes and untamable hair. he’s smart and charismatic like no one’s business and anyone would be drawn in by him; he’s a perfect homme fatale.

he’s also strong and young. he’s healthy and quick and in his prime, so if a demon really wanted to make an apex predator out of someone, he’d be ideal. because no matter how great of a hunter anyone or anything is, isn’t it all the more rewarding when the prey comes to you?

so i can imagine steve and billy becoming such good freaking friends after the night at the byers’. once he’s sobered up and off the adrenaline high, i know for a fact that the sight of steve’s bruised face would probably make billy sick to his stomach. so he’d apologize, right? and they’d get on like a house on fire because they have sm in common.

it doesn’t take long for them to start crushing on each other (unbeknownst to either party because we love pining). so one night, billy takes steve to this underground metal-grunge club and in steve’s head, it’s a freaking date (and billy’s too). they spend most of the show just wrapped up in each other at the bar and messing around in their familiar, little way that makes steve’s heart race.

until yk, he goes to the bathroom and comes back to find billy’s seat empty. the bartender’s no help, really. he mentions something about billy walking off with a guy and steve’s stumped. he’s hurt because surely, he understood this right, so why would billy leave with someone else? so he waits and waits and waits before heading home, livid.

but imagine his surprise, hours later, when he wakes up to a commotion in his backyard and it’s billy.

billy, whose usually perfect curls are a mess and who looks like he can barely stand on his own two, god-given feet. billy, who snaps his head in steve’s direction at the sound of the door sliding open and stares at him with wide, frantic eyes.

“steve,” his voice cracks and his shoulders slump in what might be relief.

“jesus christ— billy, where the fuck have you been?” steve hisses, dropping the bat and rubbing at his burning eyes because he’s exhausted.

because at the core of it, he’s still pissed that he’d been ditched, of course and so sad and he would hate for billy to see him cry.

that is, until the blonde practically falls into his arms and all steve can do is cradle him against his chest while billy shakes.

he’s cold, like he’s been out here forever in the midwestern fall but he doesn’t seem bothered as he blindly clutches at whichever parts of steve are closest— his shoulders, his arms, his back and presses his face into his neck.

all the while, he’s murmuring something low enough that steve can only pick up bits and pieces; his own name and a mantra of pleasepleasepleasepleaseohgod.

it’s only then that he notices the dark sludge staining the blonde’s clothes and the front of his bare chest; half-dried and pungent and he freezes.

“billy… billy, what’s this? are you hurt?”

and he’s looking him over for a sizable wound because the amount of blood spells nothing less than extensive damage and gore. so it’s safe to say that he’s confused when he finds nothing but a few scratches. nothing that warrants this amount of blood, which means that it’s not his. but,

it’s someone’s.

he doesn’t notice that billy’s stopped moving until he looks up to find the blonde already staring at him, though.

his eyes are damp with unshed tears and he’s got his lower lip caught between his teeth; worrying the skin there. and he looks so far away. closer to the outskirts of hawkins, than here in steve’s backyard.

“steve– i, listen…i just,” he whispers, his brows furrowing and face contorting into something ugly for all of a second; something pained.

when he speaks again, it sounds wet. it sounds wet and he’s so scared. steve’s never seen him this scared.

it makes his own heart race in response; filling the spaces where billy’s must be skipping a beat.

“i think there’s something wrong with me. like really, really, really wrong with me— i dunno what i did, i dunno what to do, god, it was just…i think….”

“steve, i think there’s something inside of me.”

[lexirosewrites]

lexi, speaking of your fic planning spreadsheet (which i love so much i had to make one for myself), i was wondering how you chose what fic to work on next? not including commissions or fics with a due date, is it a matter of which one inspires you the most in the moment, or which one is most in demand from people, or so on?

also, which fic has been on the spreadsheet for the longest that haven’t got to yet?

Honestly, it really depends. I don’t take fic commissions, but I do a lot of gift fics and sign up for events that take priority like you mentioned.

Beyond that, it’s up to my ADHD. I follow the trail of dopamine. If my brain decides it wants to write fluff, I pick the flufff. If it wants pain, I grab some angst. And if I’m in a mood, I go to smut. It’s a key part of why I have multiple WIPs going at a time!

Occasionally I do go by demand because if I throw a fic concept out and nobody seems very interested in it, sometimes it goes further down the list. Likewise, if a lot of people seem enthusiastic about an idea, it does encourage me!

Mads established the spreadsheet template for me because I couldn’t keep track of all my story ideas, so it had quite a few to begin with that still haven’t been touched.

That being said, the oldest idea on there is technically my Hunger Games AU “No Winners, Only Survivors” because I actually outlined it as a Harringrove fic originally. The reason I went back and actually caught up on Stranger Things prior to season four airing was that I kept reading Billy/Steve fics (whilst never having watched past season one). Once Eddie came into the picture, I fell headfirst into that pairing, but I will still read Harringrove on occasion because I like the fanon version of Billy (that is to say, not the canon one).

[kaizenkhaos]

Harringrove Lovefest: Love is a Battlefield

It's Harringrove Lovefest time! I'm so excited to not only see all the wonderful creations by everyone, but to share my own fics :D For today, I decided to go with the prompt, Love is a Battlefield. After a couple of attempts, I finally settled on the idea of Steve and Billy at Lazer tag ^^ Featuring the gang, it's Max's birthday and of course the Hargrove-Mayfield Siblings are on opposite teams. Who will come out on top? Max or Billy...Steve or Billy?

Edit: @harringrovelovefest: I managed to mess the tags up, oops. So hopefully this fic will come up when you search the tags now. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes Steve. The targets are all over your body."

He mustn't have caught what Dustin had said the first time, but to his credit, he had been concentrating on the idiot in front of them who'd thankfully finally turned off. No signals. Poor lane discipline. Terrible driving. Trying to not get himself and his passengers killed seemed to happen more often than he'd like these days. At least the road was clear now, so maybe he'd be able to keep up with the explanation Dustin was attempting to give him. Him, Dustin, who was sat in the back, and Robin, in the usual shotgun seat, were on their way to another birthday celebration. This time, it was Max's. She'd pulled the gang together to go to Palace Arcade. After several months of expansion, the place had finally finished the new Lazer tag section and Max had been more than eager to try it out. She'd pretended to not be so bothered about it but it had been clear by how she'd constantly reminded the gang about it, that she was excited. Steve had never heard of Lazer tag so had had no idea what he was getting himself into or what to expect. But as usual, Dustin was happy to fill in him, Robin chiming in too.

"And you score points for shooting them. Different amounts depending on where you hit. If you shoot the same person enough, your opponent is dead and out of the game."

"Out the game? So what, you then sit out for the rest of the match? That sounds kinda boring."

"That's why they have the chill out zone. Have you not been paying attention Steve?"

"And why you try to not get shot," Robin smiled, looking over at him. With that look. Really helpful Robin. Real clever insight there.

The Camaro and Nancy's Marquis was already parked outside when they pulled up. Steve sliding the BMW in next to them. Max and Billy were already waiting at the entrance, leaning against the wall but clearly keeping an eye out for them. Nancy must just have arrived too because now the passengers were all piled out of the car. El, Mike and Will getting out of the back, with El excitedly rushing Max, before pulling back. Will waving at her and then at his brother in the car. Mike hanging back until El had finished hugging Max and then falling in by her side. Another car rolled up behind them and out popped Lucas. Him waving to his mom and dad, and Erica who was busy reading something, before walking over to the group. Giving Max a big hug as Billy just rolled his eyes and said nothing. Nancy and Jonathan however stayed in Nancy's car. Guess they weren't joining them then but Steve decided he'd just go and check before they all disappeared off into the arcade. No man left behind and all that jazz.

"You not joining us?"

Nancy wound down the window, a small but tight smile on her face. Her eyes saying something which she didn't speak out loud. "Work call," was all she said, Steve noticing Nancy wasn't the only one looking not the happiest. Jonathan looked like he'd barely slept, deep bags under his eyes. He was staring down at his camera, doing something with the lense. Steve nodded. Things between him and Nancy were still a little awkward. But they were slowly getting there. Her and Jonathan honestly just ready for a break. So he left them to it. Hopefully whatever the work call was, it wouldn't be so bad. Time for this lazer tag business though. The others were staring over at him and Max especially. Tapping her foot. He was holding them up. Time to go.

"No, I'm not writing down the Shitbirds Hargrove."

Hargrove grinned. The pencil hovered over the other team name slot, despite his sister's blatant stares. Of course the asshole would want to give them not only the worst name but give him an excuse to call them that too. Not that Max was having any of it.

"Bite me. We're not the Shitbirds. We're the Hawkins Hawks."

Steve knew Hargrove was just trying to get a raise out of them and it was kinda working. Finally prising the paper out of Hargrove's warm hands, he finally filled in the team name. Birthday girl rights stated that they were going with Max's name and that she was also the team leader. So her name went down first. Max had also wanted to kick his brother's ass, so she had chosen to be on the opposite side. Her team was made up of Steve, Robin, Mike and Dustin. He had been surprised that she'd not chosen El but it soon became clear why. Apparently Max's spirit had transferred to her too, and now she wanted to kick Mike's ass. She'd also come up with a team name which Hargrove had decided to jot down. He knew Hargrove would have prefer something darker but he also knew he was a sucker for El. Didn't matter how much the guy tried to shrug it off. And Hargrove wasn't a fan of Mike, something he didn't hide. So having El rather than Mike no doubt would have pleased him. That and he'd now be able to hunt Mike down with no legal repercussions.

The rest of his team was Lucas, Heather (who'd turned up just after the group had gone in) and Will. Apparently, there were usually meant to be way more people, strangers added if the party wasn't big enough by itself. But the Hargrove-Mayfields had hired the area out so it was just them. Pretty neat.

They all waited for Steve to hand in the form at the front desk before they were taken into the briefing room. Rules explained and then to a room where all of the packs were hung up on the walls. By the time Steve stepped into the room, the packs had been distributed. Colours chosen. Of course Hargrove had picked red. But Max seemed happy enough with blue, so he said nothing. Noticing the way Hargrove grinned though as Steve worked out how to put the pack on and finally strapped himself in. In they way that told him there was an ulterior motive for him choosing the red. Hmmmm. So much more tempting to wipe that smirk off his face. He could always do that on the field. Or die trying.

No one had played before but Steve knew that some of them would be better shots than others, and that some of them would also concentrate on one prey. With the others, it would just be a free for all.

"See all you shitbirds on the battlefield." A wink and then Hargrove was gone. Steve shaking his head before noticing Max's stare, her head nudge of 'come on' before she too disppeared into the darkness. He shortly followed after her. Into the narrow corridor of darkness. The lights of Max's pack swirling before going solid and the team emerging into what he could only describe as a neon version of hell.

It was like a mini city. Tall buildings scattered around the large warehouse like space, some appearing to have more than one floors. Dark holes large enough to be windows for someone to stand out, ominously looming in between the blue light cast walls. Lines of light cut across the gaps in the buildings. Indications of other things to come. The whole place was cast in the blue light, amplifying the blinking lights which indicated the team's pack. He spotted a blue pack, then a red. Then another blue as the teams made their way into their starting positions. A voice telling them to get ready for the first round.

The first round seemed to pass in a blink. The teams back in the pack room before they knew it. The reality being, that half an hour had come and gone. The last survivor registered at minute 29.

Max waltzed into the room like she'd just won a million bucks and she might as well have in terms of the match. She'd wiped the floor with everyone.

"In.Your. Face. Loser!"

Steve couldn't help but chuckle, seeing how Lucas wanted to say something but kept his mouth shut. The corner of his lips twitching as his girlfriend continued to rub her victory in. The last one had been a lucky shot but Max clearly didn't care. She'd caught Lucas completely off guard. But it didn't matter. She'd hunted Lucas the most and knocked him out. He'd managed to get a couple of shots on her but that was it. Mike and Robin had also suffered from Max's reign of terror. Steve had been taken out by an El and Heather double team ambush attack. El showing way more glee than he ever thought she would. But it was El, so of course he was gonna let her off. Dustin, however…..

"Where were you, you totally bailed on me!"

"I had Will on my ass, if you didn't notice!"

He hadn't and shrugged, Dustin rolling his eyes as he readjusted his pack. Even in lazer tag, Dustin apparently could still be sour. Steve couldn't be for long though. His stats against Hargrove were pretty good. Although he'd come fifth overall, he'd managed to kill Hargrove and come above him. Just; Hargrove was sixth and Steve knew that meant he'd now be out for blood next round. "Was just letting you shitbirds win as a warm up," was Hargrove's excuse, Steve rolling his eyes before checking his gun. Yeah yeah. Not like Hargrove hadn't just waltzed around and not taken it seriously until he'd been taken out by pretty much all of Max's team. Then he'd picked up the pace, but it had been too late. One more shot from Steve had finished him off and parked him on the bench. Who'd been the shitbird then?

The second round was a Hargrove comeback and another Mayfield rampage. The siblings owning the match and coming in first and second. Max continuing on her kill streak and bullying of Lucas. Hargrove constantly stalking Steve and taking him down at every opportunity. He'd not been messing around, eyes on the prize. A pretty darn skilled shot had taken Steve out the game and he'd watched from the sidelines as the others had been taken down. Ending in the siblings hunting each other down and then each other out. The points were tight but Max had just scrapped ahead. It didn't matter. Steve had come in last and Hargrove was elevated.

"What happened Harrington? You lost your stride man?"

Steve shrugged. "One one man. It's all to play for in the last one."

Hargrove grinned, tilting his head a little. "Ready to lose again you mean. At least put a bit of back into it this time. Ain't fun when your opponent just takes it lying down." Round three. Steve hid around the corner, his gun up like James Bond as he listened into the conversation. Softly chuckling as it went on.

"Hey! No making out shitbirds, we're here to play a game."

"I'm already out." Steve could hear the pout he knew Max was now giving her brother. "I got Lucas ages ago."

"Not that long ago." The protest from Lucas made Steve have to cover his mouth to dull the snort.

"Ages ago. I heard you coming a mile off."

Checking behind him, he peered around again. Coast was clear, no pack in sight. He could still hear soft muttering from the pit room but he didn't hone in anymore, instead choosing to zip right past and then listened out for Hargrove. Of course Hargrove wouldn't have gone far so he needed to keep his wits about him. Footsteps…sounding up the nearby stairs before there was a pause and then the sound of them slowly going back down. Perfect. He could even line up the shot from here. Got him. The sound of the pack echoed through the corridor and a disgruntled sound meant that he'd nailed him. Two to one. Gloating rights was his. Maybe not on points (in fact definitely not on points), but he could on take outs. Given how quiet it was, he couldn't help but wonder how many others were left. Was he the only survivor? Or were there others still hunting out there? It didn't matter. He'd got him. Fist pumping the air, he grinned as he went to find Hargrove. He knew that Hargrove might not give a rat's ass due to his admittedly sweet shot in the second game. And the points, but Steve was still gonna gloat. This was still his victory.

The packs made it hard to get close. Them clanging and smacking together as they kissed. But Hargrove didn't care; Steve's back was up against the wall. The lights on and off under his eyelids. His hands still finding skin under his jeans. Of course Hargrove had gone commando; did the guy ever wear pants? Did he even own any? Or had this been another special treat that Hargrove at times hinted at, whispering in his ear in the locker room. Breathing against his lips on the back seat of his BMW. Hands remaining on hips, he strayed no further. He didn't trust himself dipping onto his thigh. His thirst could go from zero to sixty in a blink of an eye and it would be hard to hide a hard on. Even in the cargos he was wearing.

"No making out?"

"Are you a shitbird?"

Steve chuckled, pushing Hargrove up against the opposite wall as soon as their packs were finally on the floor. Mouth on his neck as he pressed his leg against those tight jeans. How Hargrove had run around in those and not chafed was a mystery. But they certainly made things interesting now. Seemed like it wasn't just him that would have to cover up a hard on……

[ihni]

My 2023 in fics

Tagged by @billyharringson, thank you, this was a lot of fun!

January: Hot and Cold (or How To Serve Revenge) - a fic I wrote in January (but posted in February, schhhh). Got challenged by @callieb to write hurt/no comfort, and I have it on good authority that I succeeded ... (it has spawned no less than two fix-its and one more continuation by other people so far, which I am awfully pleased about actually)

February: Again and again and again and again, a time loop fic that I love, and would like to read like 80K about. ... yes, read. I don't have time to write more on it now. But I had so much fun writing this, and it is one of my favorite kinds of fics; a short one with potential.

March: March was busy. There was Billy's Birthday Bonanza, and also I wrote for the Billy Hargrove Bingo. I posted a lot of fics then, most of them short. So I'm gonna link two, because I can (and no one told me any rules for this tagging game); Boys, Beards and Best Friends, because it was so much fun writing Billy and Heather being BFFs and also the boys being set up, and then Over the edge, which is one of my favorites, because it was so goddamn fun to write! (Murder mystery prank going wrong, muahahaaa! Don't worry though, no one dies for real.)

April: A piece of meaning on your skin, a little fic I wrote for the Harringrove Flip Reverse It event, about the boys choosing tattoos for each other as a part of a bet. I still think it's cute.

May: I like Flo, okay, and like to incorporate her into fics. In Patience, I wrote about her first impressions of Billy, for the Billy Hargrove Bingo.

June-July: Posted in June, finished posting in July (but written on and off over the course of several years previous ...), Taking Notes is my longest fanfic yet at about 93K. And, listen, I love it. It's a body swap fic, where the boys swap bodies. And then again. And again. Etc. I am so proud of this one, actually.

August: Posted Pal, which is 17K of Billy befriending a stray demodog. I 100% believe Billy would like animals better than most humans, and this fic is basically him being a bit dumb but also a good friend to Pal, the demodog. And then them going into protective mode for each other. I am soft for this one, still.

September: I'm picking a short one that I first posted on tumblr and then onto AO3; Seagulls. It's ... well, it's sad in a way, in that it takes place when Billy's dying at the mall, but it's also comforting in a way, because he gets to leave all that bullshit behind and is greeted by his mom again.

October: Picking Just another night at Motel 6 on Cornwallis, because Billy deserves to get to tell Karen no, and Karen deserves to be shamed for what she did (yes, in this fic she showed up). It was immensely satisfying to write.

November: I didn't get much posted in November (because NaNo), but I did get chapter 3 of Finding Billy posted (it's a finished fic now, though, don't worry). It's a whumpy fic I had to write after a couple of chats with friends, about Billy being held with the Lab people after the whole Starcourt thing, and then Steve and Max and Hop finding out and getting him out of there. Poor boy's been through a lot in this one - but things are getting better, promise!

December: Started posting Home is where the knitted mittens are, which is my latest fic. No ships, no romance. Just Billy finding out he's a werewolf and having to deal with that in Hawkins, Indiana, without much of a safety net. Listen, I'm weak for werewolf Billy, okay? And I made up some werewolf lore in this one which is a mix of all the things I like. (It was literally a reason for me to get to write something "nesting"-adjacent, without having to go into A/B/O-territory.) Definitely written mostly for myself, and I love it dearly. (Featuring werewolf!Scott Clarke too, because why not right??)

Huh, I never thought I'd had enough to fill a whole year's worth, but look at that! I'm proud of myself for this :)

Tagging @callieb (yes, individual chapters work!), @weird-an and @mikajupiterjonesingtimcurryfeet if you guys wanna do it as well :) (And YOU, reading this, if you wanna do it! Consider yourself tagged if you're reading this and think it looks fun - because it IS)

[discodeviant]

BILLY HARGROVE / STEVE HARRINGTON Post-S3 Alternate (No Upside Down) | Gen | <800

This is more a vision of mine than a fic, so please bear that in mind and enjoy~ :)

Also on AO3 Made for @harringrove-relay-race!

It’s midnight, and Steve is asleep at the wheel.

He thinks he is. He must be. In the midst of his slumber, when it’s just getting good and the dreams are turning into sunny vacations deep in the tropics, he swings back around towards a shoe box of a building he passed three minutes ago. It’s the only thing for miles unless he counts the road—singular, flat, no signs or other cars or wild animals to stop and honk at. He hopes it’s still there, bright and inviting, AHOY, STEVE HARRINGTON!

It didn’t read his name, but he thinks it called out to him.

Two minutes and it’s back in view, still twinkling like a star in the frigid, empty sky, which is strange for Hawkins, but which he hasn’t questioned just yet because he’s still dreaming.

AHOY!

It mocks him. He wants to laugh, but there’s no air moving through his lungs, and his heart isn’t beating because in dreams it doesn’t need to. He thinks it did once, knows it did for somebody outside of himself; a girl once, maybe a boy; a mirage in the back of his weary head. It’s vague, but the building is not. The sign blinks.

AH Y!

He hates it and doesn’t know why.

So with the car parked, he sits in the road where the barricade continues right alongside it. There’s neither an exit nor a footpath to the building, only a short, snowy hill, perfectly undisturbed; he fears and dreads to be the one who dips a muddy shoe into its face. He might not if there were another option, but the windows are frosty, his fingertips numb, and he’s losing his legs too. Safety travels from one box to another, and he opens the car door.

AH Y!

AHOY!

AHOY

Somewhere ahead, snow crunches; he’s out of his body now, looking around, moving between layers of his consciousness to understand that his own feet are still on the curb. When he returns, it’s buzzing like a hive, like television static just behind his eyes. Then he’s walking. The sign above him blinks again, and he blinks right back. Crunch, crunch, it’s styrofoam, a cat swimming in packing peanuts, soft and loud and soft again—someone’s around the back.

“Hello?”

It stops.

He steps forward on a ground that remains silent and doesn’t leave behind a single footprint to prove he’s been there at all. Maybe it’s a mistake; this is someone else’s dream, someone whose silence is broken by another of their steps leading away. Steve chases it at a snail’s urgency, trembling, a plume of air every time he breathes despite not feeling the least bit cold. Last he remembers, it was July.

He calls back again—“Someone back there?”—and stalks further up the hill, hugging himself tightly, not ready for an ambush if there were to be one.

Then a voice answers him from the dark behind the building. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

From the first word, Steve’s bones turn to ice, and he kicks up a cloud of nothing behind him as instinct rushes back and he finds Billy Hargrove at the rear door dressed in his Scoops Ahoy uniform. Billy’s freezing, blowing hot air into his hands, pacing back and forth until he comes forth to see Steve watching him from the corner, dumbstruck and remembering all over again. “Why are you—what?” He looks around then down at himself; the white tank and jeans he wears aren’t his own. “What?”

“I was hoping you’d make it out of there,” Billy says, weak and morose, utterly defeated. It’s only when he comes closer that Steve can see the scarring on his forearms and along the whole left side of his body, layered in thick strokes of pale flesh. They both hesitate, but Steve reaches a cautious hand out towards Billy’s arm, hoping for a hand to hold, skin to feel. When he touches the scars, they fade right into the canvas of sandy sheen that’s held onto him for so long, protected him from the real world, let him believe that true love and soulmates and destiny were possible. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you, Stevie.”

“Billy, hey—look at me.”

Slowly he does; just as easily, he unravels into Steve’s lukewarm palm as it warms to the stubble on his cheek and leads him to a plush, familiar mouth that kisses his guilt away.

“You did.”

Thank you for reading! Now, if you will, please look forward to the next participant of the relay race, my lovely mutual whose presence in this fandom I am always grateful for—@destroya-hargrove!

[ariesbilly]

I was re-reading one of my favorite Harringrove fics just now and had a pretty niche thought that goes hand in hand with being an abuse survivor and also understanding how much of Billy's life has been cut down to revolving around Max.

Because in almost every fanfiction, without fail, when people find out Billy is being abused the first thing they ask about is Max.

Is Max safe? Does he hit Max too? Does Max need help? Where is Max now? Why hasn't Billy gotten Max help yet?

And I can but I also can't imagine how fucking soul crushing it must be to someone who's abuse is most often associated with Max (like we see in the show) to admit to or to have something that vulnerable and terrifying revealed only to immediately be sidelined for Max.

(And obviously its one of the logical things to ask; there are two kids in an abusive home, usually the odds are it isn't just one being abused.)

Everyone's first concern when they hear Billy is being abused is Max.

It has me up in my feels about a Billy who gets it in his head that people just don't care. Its fine for him to take the punches as long as Max isn't. Starts getting used to having to pre-emptively say Max is fine whenever the truth comes to light, voice level with defeat.

And it'd be nice if, just once, Harrington is the one to break that cycle.

OKAY SHUT UP CUZ I THINK ABOUT THIS TOO 😭😭😭

It does get annoying sometimes when I’m reading a fic about this and immediately max is brought up im like damn girl can anyone prioritize billy for once in his god forsaken life…

Heather would do that I think 😔 besties 👉🏻👈🏻

But yeah it would be nice to read a fic once where billys abuse is brought to light and the first questions out of whoever’s mouth is “oh my god are you okay? Thats horrible you don’t deserve that how can I help you?” Instead of “but what about max…”

Would actually love a fic exploring billy getting pissed at someone bringing up max like “well fuck me i guess cuz apparently I don’t matter” and then him going on a whole tirade about how it would be nice for someone to put his own wellbeing first for a change. He deserves to make people feel bad actually, that is my core belief. Cuz all these hobgoblins around him ain’t SHIT and I’ve had enough!