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Kyle
he/they - Gay - 26 | Steddie/Harringrove/Mungrove/Harringroveson
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“You’re gorgeous.”
Lips brush softly against Billy’s temple. Fingers card into his hair at the base of his scalp, holding him like he’s something precious.
Billy scrunches his nose.
“Knock it off,” he scoffs.
When he bats his hand around, shrugging away from the touch, his wrist is snatched with a gentle grip.
“So fussy over nothing,” Eddie muses. He smooths his thumb from side to side against Billy’s inner wrist, leaning forward and planting another kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Why do you always get so grumpy when I compliment you, hm?”
Now, Billy’s brows draw together. Eddie kisses the crease, snorting into Billy’s palm when his free hand flies up to shove at his face.
“‘Cause it’s gay.”
“Well, I have some news you’re not gonna like.”
The brunet’s voice is muffled. He wiggles his eyebrows from between Billy’s fingers, and Billy only retracts his hand when lips press against his palm.
He makes a show of wiping his hand against the front of his shirt, and Eddie snickers.
“I don’t like it, okay?”
“Don’t like kisses? Blondie, I’m wounded.” Eddie closes the short distance between them, crowding Billy against the headboard. “You sure seemed to like ‘em a minute ago when I was—“
“Shh, stop,” Billy interrupts.
He can feel his skin grow hot when Eddie cracks a face-splitting grin, so close he can almost taste it.
In the back of his mind, on loop, is the sound of the headboard thunking against the wall over and over. The box springs creaking. Those damn fucking handcuffs rattling around his wrists.
As if sensing how deep his embarrassment runs, Eddie reaches up to tuck a curl behind Billy’s ear.
Just enough softness to cut the edge. Always.
“C’mon, you know how pretty you are, how can you expect me to not wanna smooch all over your face?”
“I said knock it off,” Billy warns.
Eddie stays close. Lingering well within the short reach of Billy’s personal bubble, but his expression dulls ever so slightly. Like a switch being flicked off, the light behind his eyes vanishing.
It has Billy holding his breath.
“Do you think we’re doing something wrong?”
The brunet’s voice is lower than before. Quieter. Billy opens his mouth and closes it again, looking for the answers in the other’s expression.
When he doesn’t provide a response, Eddie huffs amusedly and tilts his head to the side. Releases Billy’s wrist in favor of interlacing their fingers.
“Just ‘cause you don’t want love to come your way doesn’t mean it won’t, y’know.” He leans back against his free hand, giving Billy adequate space to breathe, and chews his lip in brief thought. “Don’t have to be naked to be loved, either.”
For a long beat, Billy just stares. He almost wants to run to Munson’s bathroom and look in the mirror, just to check and make sure his thoughts aren’t written all over his face for Eddie to read aloud. It’s a silly urge, all things considered.
He’s sitting in a trailer that he spends more time in than his own bedroom, wearing a stupid t-shirt and boxers that aren’t his, surrounded by pillows that he forced Eddie to buy because one pillow just wasn’t up to code.
The devil is in the details, and suddenly the air feels thin.
Even with the small space between them, Billy is still boxed in with no feasible way out. He furrows his brows and clenches his jaw.
“You don’t love me,” Billy spits.
Then Eddie laughs and it brings his blood to a simmer.
“I kinda do, though,” he lilts. “I get this happy little rush whenever I see you, I think about buying you cassettes and other shit with my negative account balance, and I quit lookin’ at nudie mags a little while back. If you’re mopping up what I’m drippin’.”
He fucking winks and Billy’s sure his face is redder than a tomato right now.
“What do you look at?” he hears himself ask.
His voice sounds far away over the thundering in his ears. Eddie snickers and leans over towards the edge of the bed, pulling the top drawer of his nightstand open and routing around.
How he keeps track of anything in this room is beyond Billy. Still, he manages to produce exactly what he’s looking for; a Polaroid.
Eddie sits back up, looking over the picture fondly for a moment before he hands it over. Billy accepts it with shaky hands.
The camera has made it into a few of their sessions before. For later, Eddie always says, and then snaps the most diabolical picture any lens has ever seen. The pervert probably has a whole shoebox full of them by now.
Not that Billy would ever ask to see.
He’s expecting something filthy when he turns it over in his hand. A shot of cum all over his face, or his mouth full of cock with a fist in his hair, shoving him deeper. The last thing he needs to see right now.
Instead, it’s an image of him smiling. Fully clothed. Eyes shut, and crinkled at the corners.
He looks genuinely happy, and he can’t even recall when the picture was taken. All he can deduce from the background is that he’s in Eddie’s room.
Go figure.
“We were smoking,” Eddie says, leaning closer to tip the picture down so he can peak at it once more. “One of those first times, before we ever did anything, and you were so giggly. Laughed at damn near everything I said, and I knew I wanted to remember that sound and how pretty you looked when you smiled all big like that.”
“Wanted to remember?”
“Mhm, you immediately smacked the camera out of my hand and yelled at me,” Eddie snickers. “Wasn’t sure I’d get another opportunity.”
He sighs fondly, like that’s endearing to him, and Billy presses his lips into a line.
“You jerk off to this?”
“Well, when you say it like that—“ Eddie pauses. Dawns a bit of a blush and shrugs one of his shoulders, still peaking at the picture. “You look relaxed. Totally at ease and happy, and it just gets me excited, I guess.”
Billy nods.
“How many times have you whacked to it?”
Eddie clears his throat and averts his eyes, sitting up straight reaching to toy with a lock of his hair.
“Like, uh, I dunno. A lot?”
“What’s a lot?”
Briefly, Eddie’s eyes flit back to Billy’s, and he looks away again. Tugs his hair in front of his face to hide his rapidly reddening complexion.
“Maybe something like 20-ish?”
Billy’s brows shoot upward.
“20 times?”
“Just counting the times I’ve used it exclusively.”
“Christ.” Billy shakes his head, spreading the faintest hint of a smile. “No wonder you keep saying you like me so much, you fuckin’ Pavloved yourself.”
“No, I felt that way the first time!”
Billy laughs, and he doesn’t miss the way that Eddie stares at him through half-lidded eyes. Like he just did something sexy with the intention of getting a rise out of the brunet.
It makes everything too real.
The air between them is suddenly hot again like it was mere minutes ago. Billy swallows thickly.
“That’s really your ultimate fantasy? Making me happy?” he asks. Glances back down at the picture. “More vanilla than I would’ve guessed.”
“Oh, you saying I can’t fuck you nasty and make you happy at the same time? That’s a challenge I’m willing to accept.”
Eddie crawls closer again. Dips down to nudge his face into Billy’s chest like a cat, pressing kisses against the worn fabric of his shirt.
When a hand brushes up his side, Billy goes rigid. Takes a few calming breaths and fights the urge to squirm away when Eddie kisses at his collarbone. He warily pushes his fingers through the brunet’s hair instead, cradling the base of his scalp.
Because maybe he’s something precious, too.
“You’re weird, Munson.”
Eddie chuckles, nosing fondly at his neck.
“You’re gorgeous, Hargrove.”
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eddies voice is grumbly and scratchy when he's just waking up. especially if he's just waking up and not ready yet.
especially when he's just waking up, not ready yet because the night before he fell asleep with the one and only Steve Harrington in his arms and said Steve Harrington should definitely not be trying to slip away at, he looks over at the clock on the opposite wall... 12 in the afternoon.
whatever. they fell asleep late last night. it's too early for this shit.
'where you goin?' he asks making sure to sound as offended as he can, scratchy voice and all, 'come back this instant.'
steve huffs a laugh, 'man, you've been squeezing me like your own personal body pillow all night. i love it but i gotta take a leak.'
eddie grunts, and while he's off in the bathroom eddie steals his pillow and holds on to it as if it was the other man. It's ok, smells just like steve - a combination of green tea conditioner, rain and steve - but it's nowhere near the real deal.
apparently he fell asleep a little because he starts when the bed dips in and there's an amused, 'you cheating on me already, munson?'
he lets out a soft whine, throws the pillow across the room and makes grabby hands, 'you've been gone for so long sweetheart, i was thinking of you the entire time i swear.'
steve settles where he belongs, right back into eddie's arms, 'yeah I guess its alright.' eddie kisses his shoulder, letting out a content hum. '...but now you gotta go get her back, you cant treat a pretty lady that way you know.'
there's a playful growl, teeth buried softly in a shoulder that was just kissed, a shocked squeal following immediately after.
'oh i'll show you how to treat a pretty lady, your highness!'
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Cherry Red
Another fill for the @harringrovesummerbingo and another NSFW PWP fic because... well it's me.
Square: A1
Rating: Explicit
Additional tags: Daddy Kink, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Harringrove Summer Bingo 2024 (Stranger Things), Rough Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Steve Harrington, Bottom Billy Hargrove
Summary:
Steve should have expected something like this. After Billy’s Camaro had broken down for perhaps the 5th time in as many months, he’d finally convinced his fiancé that they needed a reliable car, with the caveat that Billy could be the one to go out and pick it. He’d envisioned something steady, something similar to the Beemer that he’d had in high school, or even a minivan. They had been talking about having kids soon after all.
The car currently parked in their garage was anything but that.
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56550319
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They really are the package deal, please don’t separate them
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too hot for any clothes 💦
my first drawing for @harringrovesummerbingo ☀
[full pic on P⭐TREON]
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Fingers
Hello everyone!
My contribution for @harringrovemicroficandart promt: Fingers.
Rating: Mature
TW: Parental abuse, Minor violence
Steve comforts Billy after the new beat by his father.
Jim Hopper makes a step for it.
Whole fic below!
Read in AO3
Steve ran his fingers in Billy’s hair. Billy rested his head on Steve’s chest, sighting, blood and tears staining other’s polo.
He took the first aid kit he kept in the car since the first time it happened, the first time he saw the blood, the bruises and the cuts.
He disinfected Billy’s face. “Maybe you need some stitches…”
“No,” Billy shivered and cried again, silently. Steve wet his face biting his lips.
“You can’t go on like this,” continued Steve nervously. Billy shivered.
“I know…”.
But he didn’t know what to do. Steve tried to talk about it, but Billy was scared, and Steve knew he would probably act the same way.
“Ok, don’t worry now,” Steve hugged Billy carefully, until the sobs stopped. “Let’s go home”.
Billy shook his head. “No…”
Steve always tried, unsuccessfully. Billy had to come back home no matter what, or there would be more for him the next day. He clenched his fist.
“Shit,” he cursed at the police light not far away. He looked at Billy, afraid of his appearance and knowing that Hopper would question a lot; he left him in the car and walked a few steps in the road.
“Hopper!” he greeted, faking cheerfulness.
“Steve,” Hopper pointed the flashlight on his face and illuminated the car behind him. “All alone?”
“Caught,” snickered Steve, but Hopper looked at him, not persuaded.
“Some chick?”
“No, I’m… I’m alone”.
Hopper scoffed.
“I’ll escort you, come on”.
“There’s no need”.
“You sure?”
Billy moved; Hopper glared at Steve’s face again, then went straight to the car.
Billy blinked, blinded by the light.
Hopper cursed seeing his face
“Did you kids fight? You need stitches, kid”.
“No…” Billy shaded his eyes with a hand. “I just fell against a door… nothing serious”.
Hopper sighed. “Steve, go home, I’ll bring him home”.
“No, please,” said Billy with urgency, a little scared.
Hopper narrowed his eyes and opened the car door.
“Don’t discuss. Come on. Steve, go”.
“But…”
“Go. Or you two will spend the night in the drunk tank, I swear”.
Billy looked at Steve, sighting and shivering. Hopper grabbed his arm and dragged him to the police car.
Steve followed them at a prudent distance, and suspected that Hopper knew.
They stopped at Hargrove’s house, and Neil opened the door, looking at his son with the sheriff.
“What’s the problem, officer? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the boy”.
Billy whined. Hopper pushed Billy. “Go to your room, kid, and stay there”.
Steve saw Neil and Hopper talking a little near the car. The street was silent and desert and the all the houses were turned off
Suddenly, Neil stopped smiling. Hopper grabbed his collar and lifted him easily, and pushed him against the car.
“Touch the kid again, and you’ll pay,” said Hopper calmly, while the other was nearly suffocating.
“You can’t…”
“Oh, I can”.
Hopper opened the car door and pushed Neil hand in it. He closed the door with violence, and Steve himself jumped.
Neil screamed and Hopper opened the door again.
“Quiet, bag of shit,” he pushed Neil to the ground, his hand bleeding, all the fingers broken. “Touch him again and next time it will be more than a finger”.
“He said he closed his own hand in the door by mistake,” Max told the next morning, at school. Steve smiled. He met Billy’s eyes, and he smiled too.
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Say hi to cattle thief Eddie "The Devil" Munson, farrier Steve Harrington, and (horse girl) bounty hunter Billy Hargrove.
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You know he did Steve.
Office AUs, I love you.
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None of them party, right? Okay. Let’s party.
insp.
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Billy survives. And life gets better. Life gets better in ways Billy couldn't ever have imagined before, but as is usually the way for people like him of course it's all too good to be true.
The blackouts aren't bad in the beginning. He's losing time, sure, but only minutes at the most and there's a huge part of him that refuses to believe it's anything to be worried about. He doesn't even tell Steve it's happening. Why would he? Nothing's wrong. Then one day Steve finds him collapsed in the kitchen with blood coming out of his ears and shit gets serious real fucking quick.
There are scans and tests and they find the source pretty damn quickly all things considered. Dr Owens is kind enough to explain it to him in terms that make sense.
The mindflayer.
It isn't gone. It's hibernating. Probably waiting for the gate to open again so it can continue where it left off. They'd missed it the first time around because it hadn't been bigger than the tip of a pencil. Dr Owens points at the ghostly lines that make up Billy's brain, right at an innocent little dot hiding as deeply into Billy's head as it could possibly get and tells him it's now the size of a pea.
Even if the gate stayed closed forever (and that's a guarantee no one can make) the problem now is that it's growing.
Billy's infected with the beast like a returning cancer and they treat it like it is. Chemotherapy and radiation. They pump him full of chemicals as often as they dare and send him home in the passenger seat of Steve's car and there hasn't been a single trip where Steve didn't have to pull over so Billy could throw open the door and empty his stomach into the ditch.
And Billy knows what happens to people going through chemo. Who doesn't? But he's still horrified when he takes a shower one day and his hand comes away from his head with a huge clump of hair.
He chokes. Loud enough for Steve to knock on the bathroom door and ask if Billy's alright.
But Billy isn't listening. He's staring at the clump of hair clutched in his fist and somehow it's the last straw in a long line of fucked up shit Billy's had to go through recently. But he isn't gonna cling to his hair like some kind of middleaged, comb-over loser.
No fucking way.
Billy flicks the hair off his hand and turns off the water. He steps up to the sink, throws open the cupboard under it and yanks out the electric shaver. Stabs the plug angrily into the socket and turns it on, drowning out Steve's pleas for Billy to let him in.
He stares at himself in the mirror, at the strands of loose hair clinging wetly to his skin halfway down his chest and the thinning patch near his temple that seems so fucking obvious now...
It'll grow back. Billy knows it will. If he can just survive the goddamn chemo, it'll grow back.
He tries willing himself to lift his hand, to run the shaver over his head and just get it over with quick, like pulling off a bandaid, but there seems to be a disconnect between his mind and his hand. And Billy almost flies head first into a panic attack, momentarily conviced that the mindflayer is keeping his limbs locked up, but it's his own fear freezing him in place just as effectively. No matter how much he tells himself it's just hair, he can't make himself do it.
Steve's knocking takes on a frantic cadence until it stops altogether. Running footsteps pound outside the door until Steve comes smashing through it, eyes wild and worried.
"Billy?"
He stops. Stares. Looks at the trail of hair no doubt littered down Billy's back as it is his front. Sees the shaver and the look in Billy's eyes and something seems to click.
He approaches slowly. Gently tugs the shaver out of Billy's grip and turns it off before pulling Billy into his arms.
And Billy breathes shakily against Steve's neck, refuses to cry, but can't find it in himself not to care about this...
"Want me to help?" Steve offers after a while and Billy nods. Thinks the only possible way this is getting done is if someone else takes the wheel.
And Billy doesn't cry.
He's close when Steve runs the shaver over his neck for the last time and Billy feels the last lock brush off his shoulder and fall to the floor. He stares at the water-stained wall in front of him, too scared to glance at himself in the mirror.
The buzzing of the shaver continues and Billy frowns, looks up and turns around and that's when he finally chokes on tears. Reaches out to stop the shaver from going over Steve's head again, but it's already too late. And Billy cries ugly. Empties out all his frustrations and fears into huge sobs as he crumples in on himself.
The buzzing of the shaver stops and cool hands run over the fuzz on his head and his sensitive scalp. Breath brushes over his neck, followed by the softest pressure of lips.
Steve whispers into his skin.
"Now we match."
Billy looks down at the floor at their mixed strands of hair, reaches up blindly to cup the buzz on Steve's neck.
"I love you."
"I love you, too." Steve runs his hands down Billy's back in a calming motion. "Man, it's going to suck when I have to shave off my eyebrows."
Billy laughs through his tears.
.
.
.
So @trans-siberian-marching-band asked for Steve to maybe shave Billy's hair and I made it way more depressing than I intended, I'm so sorry. At least it ended kind of happily.
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Robin in like half of Harringrove fics. She’s stronger than any marine.
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