#harringrove fics

[cowboylikeyouu]

guys pls send me harringrove fic recs i'm starving for it

preferably some where billy doesn't become a soft unicorn after one chapter, i need him to be a goddamn menace first and foremost. need them to insult the fucking shit out of each other even when they're stupidly in love. give that hargrove bitch his redemption arc but let him be a rude fucking asshole throughout it all

[knockunderwood]

i dont ever advertise on here but i updated my fic after like two months so here she is

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[shieldofiron]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Second Chances, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Billy Hargrove, Alpha Steve Harrington, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Home Renovations, Nesting, Kid Fic, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Feelings, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Single Parents, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Fire, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of bullying Summary:

But regardless, house was starting to smell like the Harrington's and Billy made no secret of liking it, at least to himself, alone in his apartment. He could probably do it at Harrington's place too, the guy was avoiding him like a plague anyway. So what if Billy liked his scent.

He laid back into the pillows with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. He probably didn't have to do the carpets himself, often he didn't, but there was something about it. He didn't want another scent in the space, it rankled. He didn't even want his contractors to come about the bedroom door, but he would have to get over it.

He knew, at the back of his mind, that that was a bad sign. His omega was getting attached or something. Territorial.

[dirtbagdefender]

i’ll fall for you soon enough, i resolve to love by LazyBaker Rated M ( 72.6k words   6 Chap   Complete )  Gen

Billy is ignoring Steve, Steve is trying to find his footing with Billy, and a demodog needs to be buried. Part 2 of falling for you in hawkins, indi-fucking-ana

[makeadealwithdean]

read a fic one time years ago (from a different fandom) that was a teacher!au, and holy shit, i need to write this with harringrove.

go with me on this— billy needs someone to substitute teach for him while he’s out of town for a bit. (billy is a high/middle school teacher). so steve gets walked into the classroom by the principal to meet with billy before he leaves to get the basic rundown.

billy’s in the middle of a lesson, so steve just takes a seat near the back of the room to wait for him to be done. the principal leaves, steve can introduce himself, no problem.

billy finishes the lesson and hands out a practice worksheet, and the kids get into groups to work on it.

he sits down with steve and says, "so are you the sub?"

and steve flushes bright red for some reason, "uh, y-yeah, i guess so."

billy cocks his eyebrow, cause why is this guy acting like he just asked him something scandalous, "okay, so how long have you been subbing?"

steve averts eye-contact, "not long, but why...does that matter here?"

billy laughs, confused, "because you're subbing here?"

steve looks a mixture between horrified and confused.

oh.

billy clears his throat, "um, sub-stitute teaching," he clarifies.

steve inhales quickly and tries to mask the look on his face, but he still looks as if he's been splashed with cold water, "yeah," he laughs nervously, "of course. i know. what else would it be?" laughing it off obviously isn't going as well as he'd hoped.

billy just raises a single eyebrow and tries half-heartedly to dissolve the smirk creeping onto his face.

[fizzigigsimmer]

WIP: All The Kings Men

I dusted off my WIP folder this weekend and realized that this draft has been sitting for over a year to the day and that's a shame. I really love this story. It was really nice to get back to this world and I want to keep at it. I am hoping to stay inspired.

Background: Prince!Steve X Pirate!Billy also, Prince!Steve x Siren!Billy because I absolutely will have my cake and eat it too.

Basically this is a dom/sub au in a fantasy world. Steve and Billy fell in love when they were kids, only to be separated. Years later Billy decided to come back and get his man and ran off with him. Now a war for the crown is brewing on the exterior while Steve and Billy fight an interior battle for dominance - and to the victor the spoils.

~*~

The sky was still a dark blanket hanging over the city of Ashae when two spots of light appeared, like stars burning bright. 

Within moments a deep groaning, like those of bullfrogs, filled the air as the eyes upon the watchtowers blew their conches to warn the city of the oncoming danger.  

“Min Primena!” the frantic voice of her serving woman called through the doors of the bedchamber in the old tongue, and then once more in the imperial standard. “My princess, you must wake!” 

But despite the earliness of the hour Princess Ingrid was already awake, dressed, and marching through the doors of her bedchamber before the shouting of her personal servant could even finish echoing down the stone corridor.   

She’d woken at the first blast of the warning shells. Their throbbing notes had vibrated in the stone beneath her feet as she leaped from her bed and reached for her dressing gown. Their sound filling her heart with dread. 

The bone men had come.  

It had been many years since anyone from the empire had been to the castle. Ships came from distant ports for trade but only as far as Korallö, the first of the northern islands. To maintain peace, delegates and diplomats had been sent to Teru as necessary, but neither the Bone King or any of his emissaries had set foot on Ashae or its citadel in going on a decade. And that was by design. 

Ingrid’s father the king was not well. 

“What has happened Nadia?” Ingrid asked her serving woman, tightening the ties on her dressing gown as she strode down the empty hall towards the center of the castle. Whether their unexpected guests had been brought to the throne room or the dungeon, the center of the castle was where they’d be. 

Nadia scurried to keep up with Ingrid’s purposeful stride, her large chest heaving under her gossamer top. She had not seen her stoic serving woman Nadia so ruffled, even on the day Ingrid’s father had collapsed. If not for the warning shells she would have feared it meant the Prime was dead. 

 “Primena, two airmen from the badlands have come.”  

“Ah, that explains how they had made it to the castle without being stopped.” Ingrid mused, frowning. 

There was no one who could challenge Noreda in battle by sea, but they were vulnerable by air. However, it did not explain entirely why they hadn’t had prior warning.  

The princess had made good use of her time as a captive in Teru. Her friends in Sereni were few but they were well placed, and loyal to her. Or more aptly they were loyal to the peace that was promised and the order of Divinas from whence the prophecy of the promised prince had come two hundred years before. Loyal enough even to risk their lives divulging court secrets to the enemy.  

Their silence now was troubling, but Ingrid pushed aside her lingering questions and focused her mind on the more important task at hand. She must protect her own secrets now. 

“Where is my father?” 

“The prime is secure below, min primena.” Nadia answered and Ingrid released a quiet breath of relief, some of the tension in her chest loosening. Thank The Father for small mercies. 

“Send word to Tal-Munson.” she instructed. “No one is to enter the southern gate until he hears it from me.” 

The serving woman bowed her head once in submission before hurrying off to do her mistress’s bidding. For she knew as well as Ingrid, that it would spell their ruin if the Bone King were to discover the truth behind their king’s ill health. Her father was more than ill he was depleted, robbed of the ancient power that had been at the heart of her family’s power since the day they’d risen from the sea. 

Without the power that had been passed down from prime to prime for thousands of years, Noreda was crippled and would not be able to withstand attack from their enemy in the south. 

But there was no evidence of weakness on Ingrid as the doors of the castle opened and she descended the great white steps, down to where the castle guard waited with the intruders: two men, sat atop giant feathered beasts with wicked yellow eyes. 

The airmen hailed from Egnill, home of the fyre lords, and were clothed in the distinctive dress of their people – long tunics with the symbol of the phoenix embroidered upon the chest. It was no doubt made from the flame resistant leathers that their ancestors had crafted for centuries and exported to other nations at a hefty cost. But it was to the green and gold bands around their throats that Ingrid’s eyes went, bands that established them as part of the Terun empire and under the Bone King’s heel.  

Her lips curled in a sneer. She would not be intimidated by a pair of collared dogs. 

The two men sat on the back of their fyrebirds surrounded by a circle of her father’s warriors, their deadly cortans drawn and open at their sides ready to slice through flesh and bone at the first provocation.  

The riders wisely refused to give up their only exit of escape by leaving their mounts. On their taloned feet their beasts stood nearly fifteen hands high. Although the massive plume of brightly colored feathers atop their heads made them appear taller.  

Piercing eyes tracked Ingrid like prey as she approached. The breeze tossed her golden hair and the gossamer robe fastened between her breasts until it floated around her pale legs as if she were in water. The pearls in her diadem glinted in the firelight from where they rested against her brow.  

Armored only with the power in her blood Ingrid strode to meet them and the alphas surrounding the airmen parted for her, lowering their eyes in submission. 

“Milady.” The braver of the two riders, a man with hair as russet as his beast’s tail feathers, cleared his throat and spoke a greeting in imperial standard. “I am Nathanial Cunningham, Captain of the wing-guard and I would see your king.” 

Ingrid smiled at the impertinence, showing her fangs. 

“You are nothing.” She corrected softly. “And I would see you dead for trespassing on these lands.”  

She enjoyed watching the way the foreigners faces paled, the scent of their fear souring the air. The brave one’s eyes narrowed speculatively on her however, before turning and sharing a meaningful look with his partner. He had drawn all the correct conclusions from her presence there and the absence of her father she was sure. There would have been no reason for the king to bother with them or for her to show her face at all, had he still had the full power of poseidon behind him. 

Ingrid sought out the highest ranking of the guard and locked eyes with him, giving the alpha a subtle nod.  

“Are you Lady Harg-” Captain Cunningham’s companion did not get a chance to finish before the sharp end of an arrow grazed across his cheek, slicing through the flesh before embedding itself into the sandstone a few paces beyond. 

The captain drew his sword as his second let out a cry – more from shock than pain. The feathered beasts they rode puffed out their breast and flared their wings, the captain’s mount opening its large slightly curved beak to screech a furious warning.  

Ingrid tensed, painfully aware of her own vulnerability, but no flame appeared from the creature’s mouth. More arrows rained down from the open arches of the castle, and the captain leaned over in his saddle to reach across and grab the reins of his companion’s mount delivering firm commands for it to settle. 

When the beast had calmed and its rider had regained control, Captain Cunningham turned burning eyes toward Ingrid, full of fury and hatred. Ingrid’s smile stayed exactly as it was. She raised her hand and the volley of arrows ceased.  

“I am Princess Ingrid, daughter of The Tuninri.” She corrected the man again, lifting her head with pride. “And you bore me. Deliver your message and be gone.” 

“You speak of trespassing when you have invaded our capital and made off with the king’s blood?” Captain Cunningham seethed, all pretenses at civility abandoned. He resembled his feather pet as his eyes pierced her. It was a struggle for Ingrid to keep her face still, at the revelation that the capital had been invaded, though she was sure a practiced eye would have noticed the twitch of shock she quickly suppressed.  

To hear that Sereni had been attacked was shock enough. That anyone would dare risk harming one of the kings own blood was almost unfathomable.  

“Is the Bone King dead?” she asked the only thing she cared to know and watched the captain’s face as he answered. 

“He is secure and in good health.” The young captain’s face betrayed nothing but his scent was bitter. He was lying. But about which part? 

“We are glad to hear it. But why do you blame Noreda for this?” 

His lips curling in a snarl, Captain Cunningham reached inside the satchel hanging at his side and tossed something swaddled in stained rags down onto the ground. As the object rolled to a stop near Ingrid’s bare feet it came unraveled, revealing the severed head of a Gorgan warrior. An icy fear speared Ingrids chest at the sight of it.  

“I see.”  

This was Creel’s doing, but she could not say so and risk revealing to the enemy the extent to which her father had lost control over the Gorgan tribes. She raised her eyes from the bloodied head and back to Captain Cunningham.  

“My Father knows nothing of this attack. We shall have it investigated.” 

“Of course. And I suppose it was merely a coincidence that on the very same day, Billy the bastard betrayed his liege and disappeared with the king’s ship?” the captain sneered in reply and Ingrid’s breath shook. 

Billy. 

Her heart squeezed in her chest, thinking of the child she’d left behind in Teru. The Divinas had promised her he was on his way home to his people at long last. She’d believed, but to hear it echoed so plainly from her enemy’s lips made it suddenly more real.   

“I have not seen William since he was a boy. Are you searching for him?” she asked calmly.  

She would not let them leave if they were. Two fyrebirds could bring down a ship in a matter of minutes. 

“Our search is for Prince Steven, and the message from our king is this: we will find him.” Captain Cunningham warned darkly. “And when we do, we will build our homes upon their ruined halls, and drink the blood of those who dared to test the strength of Teru.” 

A terrifying promise to be sure, but Ingrid did not wince. Little terrified her after the years she’d spent shackled to her terun husband, a brute of a man and far from the worst of his kind. Her suffering had only hardened her resolve. There was no pain she couldn’t weather and no indignity she couldn’t face when she knew that all of it would be to the glory of Noreda. 

“You will not find your prince here. Begone now.” Ingrid smirked, before she turned her back to them, confident in the strength of her father’s men. She spoke over her shoulder as she walked away, making a promise of her own. 

 “If you return uninvited as you did today, we will drag you into the sea and it shall be our children who suck succor from your bones.” 

~*~*~*~ 

‘I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls…’ 

Steve glanced back at the mouth of the cave where a ring of daylight illuminated the sand disappearing beneath the encroaching waves. The tide was coming in and Jonathan was not a strong swimmer. The butcher’s apprentice hung back, pacing at the opening, his fretful calls nearly becoming lost within the cavernous space as his voice bounced along the walls. Steve did not need to hear Jon clearly to know what he was saying. Come back. The tide is rising. It isn’t safe. 

But Steve pressed on into the darkness, away from the light, venturing into the back of the cave. He was not afraid of the dark, or of the strange music only he could seem to hear. It swelled louder with each step he took as if to assure him he was taking the right path. Even if the cave had not been discovered by anyone else for a hundred years or more, they were still in Hawks Landing. This was his home. 

‘I had riches all too great to count.’ 

He kept a hand pressed to the wall to guide his steps as the carven narrowed into a tunnel, the ground beneath his feet slanting downward. He paused when the rock beneath his hand became less rough edged, smoothing out until it felt polished. He ran his hand along the cool surface, wondering at it, pausing again when his fingers encountered something protruding from the wall. As his fingers grazed it, he felt a subtle vibration - a gentle hum. The shell, for Steve could see it now where it was embedded in the wall, began to give off a soft light bathing Steve and the walls around it in a golden glow. 

The light glimmered upon the surface of a wide pool of water resting just a few steps from where he stood. Had he kept going in the dark he would have fallen right into it. It was here the cave ended in a rounded chamber, not caused by the passage of time and erosion but chiseled with tools. Tiny colorful shells like the one he’d accidentally touched were embedded into the walls along with polished stones of differing sizes. They formed a mosaic he realized, as more of the shells began to pulse with light until the rendering of waves spanning the curvature of the chamber appeared to move. 

The music was all around him now. He could hear the plucking of a harp strings and the low throbbing notes of a fluted instrument for which he had no name for, and there were voices too. They rose up from the water as he drew closer. 

The pool was deep and black. He could not see a bottom to it, and yet it seemed to beckon him. Those voices were so beautiful, singing in a language he’d never heard spoken outside of his own mind, but that he knew was real. And ancient. 

‘But what I dreamt which pleased me most, twas that you loved me still the same.’ 

Steve wanted to follow those voices. They understood what no one else could. They would make the pain go away… 

“Steve!” 

Steve woke gently to the sound of his name. Unlike the frantic way Jonathan had called him all those summers ago, Billy’s voice was calm and steady as it drew him from sleep. He blinked his eyes open. It was growing dark within the cabin. The sun outside the open window already sunk halfway bellow the horizon. It bathed the room in hues of bronze. How long had he slept?  

“Murray will be ringing the bell for supper,” Billy answered, reading the question in his expression. Steve turned his head slightly to look over at him, his breath catching as his gaze wandered over miles of golden skin and the firm wall of Billy’s chest. In the dappled glow that filled the cabin he made Steve think of the marble statues of past kings that decorated Sereni. He used to look up at them when he was a boy and marvel at their greatness: the size of their arms and legs, the breadth of their shoulders, the superior way with which they held their heads, frozen in poses of dominance. 

I will prove my blood. I will be great, and all of Teru will know it. He used to vow whenever he looked upon the likenesses of his ancestors, doubling down on his efforts to rise above his royal cousins. And after he’d earned his sword and had been knighted, bent inside from an invisible injury but not broken, he had added: One day, he shall beg for mercy at my feet. 

Steve smiled to himself before masking it with a tired groan.  

“Never did I think I would come to dread supper.” 

Billy huffed in his ear, more amused than annoyed. 

“I forgot what a princess you are. You of all people, has no right to complain.” He reminded Steve with an arched eyebrow. His frown was stern, but there was a certain glint in his eye that Steve knew. Loved, if he were being honest. 

“I am the king’s blood. I define what is right.” he replied as haughtily as he could manage without having to laugh at himself. “And what of you? You move heaven and earth to get a prince in your bed and then act surprised when he believes himself faultless.”  

He’d hoped to draw a laugh from Billy with his teasing, but Hargrove only continued to stare at him, his expression growing more pensive.  

“Billy, what’s wrong?” Steve finally questioned, beginning to worry a little. 

“What were you dreaming about?” 

Instead of answering, Billy asked a question of his own. Steve hesitated, wondering why Billy was suddenly interested in his dreams. Not that he minded - it gave Steve a thrill, not knowing what pieces were on the board and what Billy’s next move might be. He’d missed this. Nobody ever played the game the same way or gave him the challenge that Billy did.  

He was happy, feeling the evidence of Hargrove’s strength pressed against his body, knowing it wouldn’t save him. Steve would be his undoing, and there was no more powerful feeling than that. 

“If I said I was dreaming of hearing you beg for mercy, what would you say?” Steve asked, his eyes searching out the bite he’d left on Billy’s shoulder. His heart quickened just at he sight of it, a spark of heat lighting deep in his belly. There was an answering spark of desire in Billy’s eyes before he answered. 

“I’d say that’s an admirable dream.” Billy’s lashes lowered as his own eyes found the bite he’d left on Steve’s throat. “But unless you forget, it was you who begged for my cock only hours ago. Intend to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life. ” 

“Strange. I remember you swearing to fulfill my every want only hours ago. But if you’ve decided not to keep your vow…” Steve huffed and began turning his body away, but Billy grabbed him around the middle before he could complete the motion and hauled him back in until they were chest to chest. Steve glared, but Billy just smiled. 

“You don’t want me dead. And you don’t want to test my patience either, omega.” He warned. 

Steve’s chest filled with warmth at hearing Billy call him his omega again, a quiet sound of pleasure chittering in his throat. It felt right. Their bond was stronger, and Steve felt stronger for it, and yet he was unalarmed by it. He ran his tongue over his teeth and wondered if it had something to do with the bites they’d exchanged.  

“I was dreaming of home,” Steve answered truthfully this time. “The time I explored the coast with my friend Jonathan. Why do you ask?” 

Instead of answering Billy lifted a hand to Steve’s cheek and rubbed the pads of his fingers over the surface. An achingly soft touch that sang through Steve’s starved skin like a reward. He leaned into it, curling into Billy’s body until his warmth was pressed all along his skin and Steve could feel the rise and fall of every breath he took. The itch and ache of yearning that he’d lived with while Billy had been avoiding him, refusing to touch him, might feel like a distant memory in the afterglow of sex and sub care, but it wasn’t. Not to either of them. 

“There were scales on your skin. You were glowing, here...” Billy’s hand  drifted down to Steve’s neck  and pressed gently against the side of his throat. “And here.” 

His voice was steady but Steve clocked the tension in him through his tightly controlled breaths.  

Steve considered it slowly, shivering a little. It wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed about finding the cave, but it couldn’t be coincidence that he’d been dreaming about that when he grew scales and started to glow.  

“My teeth grew sharp earlier, like yours do.” Steve admitted though it would have been hard for Billy not to notice when he’d bitten into him like a flesh eating eel. What he really wanted to know was, “Billy, do you ever hear voices?” 

“Voices?” Billy’s had gone tight. He had his answer but Steve pressed on for more detail. 

“The ones in the water.” Steve nodded his head toward the open window, confessing. “My room at home faced the sea. At night I could hear them singing in a language I’d never heard, but I understood every word.”  

He waited, unsure how Billy would answer. He could not be sure that Billy would be truthful when that truth made him vulnerable, but it was not just himself anymore that Billy had to worry about. Steve was tangled up in the secrets locked within Billy’s blood. 

‘There is no weakness like loving someone. Never forget that’. Steve’s father used to say, but it was Billy who had taught him the lesson. 

“Now and again.” The admission was gruff and quiet. Steve laid his head on Billy’s shoulder, smiling to himself as the alpha’s arms tightened around him. “And when I do I have the helmsman change course.” 

“Why?” Billy looked at him askance and Steve grinned. “I understand why you would fear for your men, but when you are alone, why not go to meet them?” 

“They are sirens Steve. They lure sailors to their death.” 

“But you are no ordinary sailor. Perhaps they only want to greet their prince.” 

Billy’s face darkened, predictably, his scent souring. 

“I am no prince. And I don’t care what it is they want.”  

“Bollocks. You’re scared.” Billy’s glare turned sharp and Steve tilted his chin up in defiance. 

“Are you calling me a coward Harrington?” 

The red glow around his pupils was warning enough, how stupid Steve would be to say another word that wasn’t a denial. 

“A fortnight ago, definitely. Tonight?” Steve paused, bringing his hand up to graze Billy’s bared shoulder, just above the mark his teeth had left. Billy’s gaze followed the movement of his hand, his throat moved as he swallowed, before he lifted his gaze back to Steve’s, penetrating. 

 “Tonight, I find myself feeling very human.” Steve continued, hushed. “Despite all indications that I am not. You cannot hide from who you are Billy, any more than I can hide from who you’ve made me.”  

It was silent for a long drawn-out moment with neither of them speaking. Billy breathed in tandem with the slapping of waves against the sides of the ship.  

When he finally spoke, his grip around Steve changed with the command that entered his tone. “If you hear them again Steve, you’re to tell me. And you are never to answer their call.” 

This was as far as Steve could safely push Billy tonight, Steve knew it even though he could tell that Billy was expecting resistance. Which was good because if he had expected anything else Steve would have been insulted.  

“I would not want to follow them anyway.” Steve answered with an easy shrug and took private delight in the wary confusion that furrowed Billy’s expression. “I am no prince of the sea or child of the gods. I like my chances better on land.” 

Slowly the confusion cleared from Billy’s face, replaced by a small hopeful smile. 

“That is a very petulant way to say yes alpha.” 

“That’s not what I said at all.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

Steve heaved a great put upon sigh and began talking to himself, not bothering to lower his voice. 

“He’s got a magnificent cock, yes, but if he’s a mad man is the fare really worth the price of – Ah!” Steve laughed as Billy growled and rolled on top of him, driving the breath from him as he wedged his thigh between Steve’s legs. Laughter melted into a moan as the pressure against his cock made Steve stiffen. 

He grabbed onto both Billy’s shoulders holding on, but Billy held himself still. He stared down at Steve with such a smirk, Steve wanted to smack it off him. And then kiss him. Suck those soft lips between his teeth until he whimpered and moaned. I hate him so much. Steve tightened his grip on Billy’s shoulders. 

Billy laughed, smug as he rocked into Steve too slow and infuriatingly easy. Bastard. I love him so much. 

I obviously haven't updated in a while but you can read up to this part on AO3

[queer-coded-camaro-driver]

Hi do you have any harringrove fic recs? I’m new to the fandom and I’ve read all of yours (multiple times) but there’s literally thousands and I’m struggling to decide what to read, so I’d love to know if you have any suggestions!

First of all?? I'm sobbing, crying, throwing confetti that you've read my stuff multiple times and have now asked for recs. That's a huge honor and I am laying facedown on the floor bawling.

Second of all:

I love @heckinahandbasket. She nails the characters every time (and you should also check out her original fiction and support her financially, 11/10 good stuff). My two fav fics from her stash are: "Treasure of the Sea" (piracy, courting behavior, historical A/B/O), and "I Ain't Afraid of No Ghosts" (ghost Billy, historical elements, cutest fucking ending of all goddamn time).

My beloved wife @artemisthehuntress wrote a lovely canon-divergent scene that takes place between S2 and S3 and fills me with joy and lots of yummy hurt/comfort feelings: "The Sky Wouldn't Fall" on AO3.

@ariesbilly and @deedoop write some good smut (mind the tags). @dragonflylady77 is a pal and has some great stuff on her blog. @memes-saved-me is a pillar of the Harringrove community, as are @artwraith and @cherry-sorry !

[every-dayiwakeup]

For the beautiful @suspiciouslackofclowns 😘 (the world is a lot brighter when I get your asks 🥰)

The World's A Little Brighter (Modern! AU)

Tw: mentioned and implied abuse, body insecurities, two dumb boys in love, Neil Hargrove(mentioned), cheesy pick up lines, anxiety

“It’s hot as a motherfucker,” Steve groans, stealing a glance at Billy, who still hasn’t taken off his Metallica hoodie, despite beads of sweat dripping from his damp tawny locks onto the black fabric. Only a mad man would wear that to the beach.

Come to think of it, Steve hasn’t seen him shirtless yet. Whether they’re making out in Steve’s bed or a broom closet, the lights are off and Billy’s clothes stay on. Some boyfriend Steve is. But are they boyfriends? They haven’t actually put a name on whatever they’re doing. All Steve knows is when he’s around Billy, the world’s a little brighter.

“S’ not so bad,” mutters Billy, putting down his makeshift fan.

“You’re gonna get a heatstroke,” Heather says, sounding very un-Heather-like.

Billy merely shrugs, and she bonks Steve over the head with her magazine before jogging over to try her newest pick-up line on a bemused Robin. He swears Heather and Billy were twins in another life. Or they co-wrote Notice Me, Bitch, a handbook for pulling your crushes pigtails until they’re aware of your existence.

Steve never needed the peacocking, though. He would rather eat rocks than admit it aloud, but Billy Hargrove stole his attention before that infamous mouth even uttered a word. Steve was a lucky bastard, getting to be the one to kiss those cherry lips. One taste would never satisfy Steve’s cravings. Billy was insatiable.

Right now, though, he was clearly in discomfort. Steve wasn’t all too good at the nonsexual aspects of relationships, but for Billy, it was worth a try.

“If I left a hickey in plain sight or… if it’s… Neil…”

Billy grinds his teeth. “He’s too smart to leave marks. Wasn’t you, either, Pretty Boy.”

At least he’s talking. Keep him talking. “Gnarly waves today, dude.”

A giggle escapes Billy before he claps a mortified hand over his mouth. Cute.

“That bad, huh?” Steve says, grinning.

“Was that your best, Harrington?”

“How dare you? I’m in my beginner’s stage!”

“Duolingo isn’t charging you for those lessons, I hope,” Billy jabs, loosening up a little.

“Ouch. You totally crushed my vibe. You’re harshing my mellow, dude. Not cool, man, not cool.”

Billy keels over laughing, slapping his thigh.

“A refund, then?” Steve jokes, poking his side.

Billy goes quiet, hugging his knees close.

Steve thinks he may know what’s going on. Still, it’s better to be sure. “Body Blues Day, Bills?”

Billy nods, sniffling. “I wanted to surf, but… I don’t look good.”

“Is this you or Neil talking?”

“I wish it was just him. The mirror tells me shitty things, and I know you said they’re lies, Stevie, I try to ignore them. W-when people stare at me, it makes it worse.”

“Did Neil say anything to you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!”

Billy jumps at his tone, and Steve takes a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth like his therapist told him.

“Jesus, if I’m shitting on your summer with my crap feelings, no one’s holding you hostage. I’d hate to harsh your mellow, Harrington,” Billy sneers, looking away.

“I don’t think your feelings are crap,” Steve says, keeping his volume on the down low so as to not startle Billy further into his shell.

“Oh, spare me. You needed a rebound for Wheeler, is all. It’s not like we’re in love or anything-”

“And if one of us was, would that change anything?” Steve blurts before he can stuff a fist into his mouth.

“W-well, yeah I guess, but-”

“Then I do.”

“Huh?”

“I love you.”

Billy snorts loudly. “Maybe the heat’s getting to me. I’m hallucinating or some shit…”

“Bills. I. Love. You. Now please, let me take off your hoodie before the boy I love passes out.”

“You won’t like what you see, just a disclaimer,” Billy stubbornly insists.

“Can I be the one to make that determination?” Steve says, swallowing the extremely ill-timed I’ve jacked off thinking about this moment.

“Fine,” Billy spits, “Take it off.”

“Are you sure-”

“Today, Steve! Before I change my mind.”

Billy puts his arms up, stiff as a board as Steve slips the hoodie over his head, tossing it aside.

“Better? Why you wore black, babe, I’ll never-”

The sight before him is nothing short of heavenly; Billy’s hair a golden halo in the sunlight, thick tanned thighs that Steve knows are strong enough to crush a watermelon (and hopefully one day Steve’s head), a nice round tummy resting on those sinful thighs. Damn.

“Don’t ask me the color of anything,” Steve says, gaping shamelessly.

“My big, dumb belly kinda covers the outfit, I know,” Billy begins, starting to tremble. “‘S ugly, like I told you-”

“No, no, no, baby, your tummy’s not dumb or ugly!”

“You were staring. I look hideous, don’t I, Steve? Don’t-don’t lie!” Billy sobs, hugging himself tighter.

“Your swim trunks are red,” Steve says calmly. “They have surfboards on them.”

Billy nods, his breathing slowing a bit. He still won’t look at Steve, but it’s a start.

“They look really good on you, which isn’t a surprise because everything looks good on my boyfriend.”

Billy stops crying, oceanic eyes taking up his hopeful face.

“You-you called me your boyfriend.”

Oh no. Was this whole thing a mistake? Can he delete Billy’s memory of the last ten minutes?

“If you don’t want-”

“You’re an idiot, Steve,” Billy says fondly.

Steve smiles back, relieved.

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

“Yup.”

“I really do like your swim trunks.”

“Yeah?”

“They look better on my floor, though.”

Billy swats Steve’s chest, snickering. “The worst thing you’ve ever said to date, Harrington.”

“Back to surnames? That’s low, Hargrove.”

When their hyena laughs die down, Billy takes Steve’s hand and places it on his tummy. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, shy and uncertain.

Steve will just have to meet him halfway, then. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“Holloway!” Billy calls out, “Steve’s gonna be my ride, so you better find one of your own!”

“She’s riding with me, Blondie!” Robin hollers back.

“We just got here,” Steve whines. "What about surfing?"

Billy guides Steve's hand from his tummy to his crotch. “Your floor is real lonely, I hear.”

Steve’s never driven home faster.

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