On Stranger Lanes.

Steve grins and says, “That’s funny, coming from you.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

Steve abruptly backs him up against a tree, braces on one hand right next to Billy’s head. His voice gets all low suddenly, inches from Billy’s lips.

“I mean you’re the best looking guy I’ve ever seen in my life,” Steve says, all husky. “Anything happened to your face, I think I’d shoot myself.” Traces Billy’s bottom lips with his thumb. “Fucking beautiful.”

Half of Billy’s blood rushes to his face and the other half rushes to his dick. It’s so sudden and so unexpected and so King Steve.

Soulmate AU/Scars Fic

(What a sneaky way to try and motivate me to update You Don’tHave To Lie. I see what you’re doing here…)

Steve hated the scar that resided along his cheekbone. It was a constant reminder that he hadn’t found his soulmate yet.

He remembered the jealously that bloomed in his chest when thescar on Tommy’s wrist turned into a beautiful splattering of color that matchedCarol’s eyes, or when Carol’s own scar turned into a new pattern of frecklesthat looked like Tommy’s name.

Steve also hated how visible his scar was, and how Nancy’seyes kept straying to it the entire time they were dating. She tried to pretendthat it didn’t matter, that she loved him more than she cared that they weren’tsoulmates.

But in the end, she and Jonathan found each other. Andsomehow Steve couldn’t find it in himself to be upset.

By 1984 Steve had accepted the fact that he might never findhis soulmate, unlike almost every other teenager in Hawkins.

When the new kid from California literally roared into town, Stevefelt butterflies when they locked eyes across the parking lot. The other boygave him a quizzical squinty look, but eventually turned and walked towards thenew school.

It wasn’t until gym that Steve noticed anything had changed.Well… Tommy was actually the one to notice.

“Dude!” Tommy pointed to his own face where Steve’s scarwould be located.

“What? Do I have something on my…?” Steve reached up to rubat his face, feeling like an idiot. That was probably why the new kid – whoSteve heard was named Billy – had looked at him funny this morning.

Tommy grabbed at Steve’s raised arm and dragged him to a mirrorand forcibly turned him to face it.

The rest of Steve’s question died in his throat at the facelooking back at him.

His scar was gone. And in it’s place small music notesdotted his cheekbone, matching the moles that decorated Steve’s skin.

“I told you it’d happen eventually!” Tommy beamed over Steve’sshoulder. “So who is it?”

“I don’t…” Steve froze in realization and turned to runtowards the gym. Tommy’s complaints quickly faded as he burst into the basketballcourt and scanned the room.

Billy burst in from the other side, his shirtoff and copper skin glistening in the sunlit room. Their eyes snapped to oneanother. 

It reminded Steve of those picture books with hidden objects that youwere supposed to look for, and once you found it you wondered how you could havemissed it from the start.

Along the collar-bone on Billy’s left side was soulmark thatlooked like a small pressed flower. Its thin delicate stem twisted into acursive “S”.

They moved unconsciously, a slow stumble turned into a breathlesssprint as they met in the middle of the court and ran into each other’s arms. Billyheld Steve’s face in his hands and laughed as he looked at the music notes.

He’d later tell Steve they were the opening notes to hisfavorite song.

“It’s you.” Steve whispered. Drinking in every detail of theman before him.

“It’s me.” Billy breathed back before pulling Steve into a kiss.

There’s the falling in love and the knowing you’re in love and the telling the object of your affections you’re in love…

Those are the three main events in Steve’s book.

Sometimes you don’t know when you start to fall. Steve isn’t aware of it when it happens this time and once he figures it out he feels like he’s been shoved or whacked or smacked over the head with a plate which, fine, he is that sort of romantic, but a word of warning might have been nice.

Sometimes he thinks the warning was Billy Hargrove barreling through a crowd of drunken party goers just to give him that stare-down that had either said “fight me” or “fuck me” or…both. He should’ve known then.

Steve starts to fall in love sometime after Billy has a run-in with a demogorgon that has him joining the monster fighting squad. Steve is avidly against it until he’s not, convinced by Dustin that they need to keep an eye on Billy because he’s a Wild Card (Dustin says it with what sounds like capital letters) and who knows what he’ll do.

“Keep your enemies close, Steve,” Dustin says. “And anyway, we know he can fight.”

So Steve keeps his enemy close, so close that he assures Billy he can come over any time if he needs to just crash somewhere and it’s only a little bit because he feels sorry for Billy and mostly because he wants to watch his every move as much as possible. It helps that fighting monsters seems to relax Billy in a way that should be disturbing. But Billy’s great at it and he’s kind of…good natured about the whole thing. Even helpful. Suddenly Billy is doing homework with Steve and having meals at the Harrington’s and has his own pile of beautifying products in Steve’s bathroom. Steve continues to watch Billy like a hawk at school and after school and from across his bedroom and it’s definitely only because “keep your enemies close.”

Steve starts to fall in love one Sunday morning when he thumps downstairs and finds Billy on his couch in his living room. Billy knows where the key is. He must have let himself in. But this time he didn’t bother to wake Steve up, he just curled up on the sofa with a blanket and made himself breakfast in the morning. Steve can’t figure out why he likes that so much, that somebody feels so at home in this big fancy house that often feels so cold.

Steve starts to fall in love because Billy looks up at him with those incredible blue eyes, a bowl of cereal sitting on his palm and says, “Hey! Don’t flip out, Harrington, I didn’t eat your Apple Jacks. Even saved you the toy surprise.” Then he smiles. He doesn’t smirk, he smiles. He holds up some mystery piece of plastic still encased in its wrapper to prove to Steve he saved him some stupid toy.

And Steve is fucked. He just doesn’t know it yet.

@joe_keery: Gonna miss our reservation at @IHOP had this #res for months hope the don’t #giveaway r seat. #hurry #hotcakes

So, imagine Billy left Hawkins after high school. Things at home got worse before they got better, culminating to one fateful night in which the police become involved. The Hargrove ‘family’ is split and Billy just hightails it out of town. No one really hears from him for years. Out of sight, out of mind, and the world carries on. Years pass before Billy comes back. Except he’s not quite the same person he was when he left. He’s far closer to Max than any of her friends expected him to be, for one thing, and it turns out they never lost touch. The first thing he does is get a job at the local fire station, a few years of experience already under his belt. Strangest of all, the guy has chilled out. In fact, Billy hardly makes a splash since his move back into town. He works, he goes home, keeps his head down, rinse and repeat. 

Steve learns that Billy has come back and he has some vague curiosity about the boy that pummeled him to the ground and spent the rest of their high school days together avoiding him like the plague. Weeks pass before he so much as catches sight of him driving along in his car, just a glimpse of his familiar form before he’s gone again.

It turns out that saving Hawkins (if not the entire world) from the darkness of the upside down came at a heftier price than any of the kids could’ve expected in the end. It hits everyone hard, but in different ways. Mostly, they’re all well-adjusted enough and, despite all odds, still close, still connected. The trouble is Steve can’t quite shake off his ghosts- monsters, blood, near-death experiences and … the memory of a few people who weren’t quite as lucky. The memories, mostly, of their screams. It makes sense, Steve thinks, that Eleven has her traumas, her scars, her nightmares. She did way more than Steve did, her powers being what they are, but she’s happy. She’s whole. It doesn’t make any sense why Steve is the one who’s all fucked in the head.

And then a fire happens. 

No offense taken. I think that when it comes to liking Billy Hargrove, it’s a bit like enjoying Percival Graces from Fantastic Beasts: there’s a lot of fanon going on that really enhances what isn’t quite there in the canon. If I’m going to tell you what the appeal of the ship and character is, it’s probably important to make clear that a lot of the pleasure comes with loving how people here on tumblr have found such possibility in Billy as a character and Harringrove as a ship. At a glance, I know it must look shitty. He’s a fuckin’ awful kid in canon, despite the good looks, strong intro, and that amazing mullet. The fight scene between him and Steve is intentionally, unquestionably brutal. Fanon aside, Billy appealed to me mostly because I enjoyed the queer subtext surrounding his character and was compelled by the reveal that he’s a child abuse victim. That doesn’t justify his behaviors, of course. I don’t like woobifying him. He’s awful. But he’s also a kid and it’s the prospect of his possibility for growth and his capability for a lot of character depth, a lot of angst and shame and desire as a abuse survivor and potentially as a closeted kid that really caught my eye.There’s some overlap re: why I enjoy him as a character and why I chose to write fic about him- I think that we need stories where people unlearn awful, hateful shit. I think we need stories where no one is beyond redemption if they only try hard enough to heal, unlearn, and make amends with the damage they’ve done. We all like to applaud unlearning, growing, and becoming aware of our personal brand of toxicity and Problematic-ness, but there’s so much shame regarding the fucked up shit we all do and say before we get there. I think that shame bleeds into fiction. Case in point, most people I know would sooner see a 17 year old character like Billy die than get a redemption arc. As an abuse survivor myself, I think there’s a real need for characters who suffer abuse and don’t fulfill that Doctor Who quote: All that suffering and it just made him kind. The reality is it’s a fucking Herculean task to be kind when you’re over the fire. There are so many abuse survivors who cope by becoming hateful, violent, and unpalatable. That coping mechanism isn’t healthy, obviously, and its often dangerous; it usually continues the cycle of abuse and violence that created it in the first place, especially if it goes untreated. But that doesn’t mean a character like Billy has to be beyond saving, especially if he’s still young. That doesn’t mean readers can’t and shouldn’t identify with someone being the worst and slowly but surely becoming better. When I first started coming up with a fic centering on Billy, I kept thinking about all that upset me with what Rowling did with Draco Malfoy: a kid raised in hatred never unlearns prejudice and violence. If you’re fucked and cruel as a kid there’s no redemption possible for you later on. Living in misery is your sentence for life.Writing a Harringrove fic was the perfect opportunity to challenge that and, oddly?? I’ve found myself repeatedly working through some pretty bad childhood experiences by being able to embed them, in one way or another, into a story. Harringrove appeals to me a lot because, similar to some other ships that seem bad at a glance, I’ve not seen quite as many fanworks center on healing, boundaries, and rectifying all that’s been done wrong by hurt and unhealthy characters in a long, long while.

Billy Would start out having a pretty good life, Neil is dismissive of his son, but it’s nothing too bad. But his mother gives him so much love to make up for it.

She spoils him a little. she reads him his favorite stories, gets him all sorts of gifts when she travels to different kingdoms, buys the best clothes for him, even got him some horses.

But in a few years, she gets really sick and eventually dies, it leaves Billy heartbroken and it leaves Neil angry.

He takes that anger out on Billy and it doesn’t help that Billy looks like her, it makes Neil even angrier.

Neil yells at him, break his stuff and even sold some of that stuff, especially the gifts his mother gave him. Soon Neil re-marries again and its to Susan, who has her daughter Max.

Billy is forced to give his room up to Max and has to sleep in the cellar. All of his good clothes are gone and he wears rags.

Neil makes him clean up after everybody, sometimes even makes a mess on purpose to be extra cruel.

Max feels bad for him and tries to help him clean up one time. But it only resulted in Neil yelling at him and giving him a slap.

So after that he would always try to avoid his step sister and Max’s heart broke for him.

One day invitations to Harrington castle is being given out, it was for a royal birthday ball for prince Steve Harrington.

On the night of the party, Neil and the girls leave to go and Billy is left by himself. But as soon the carriage leaves, he gets a nice suit that he made himself and hid from Neil.

Once’s cleaned up and dressed, he goes to the ball on one of the few horses that were left.

There at the ball he spots the young prince Steve Harrington and he’s so gorgeous and charming.

Absolutely no one inside of Hogwarts is surprised when Billy Hargrove, sixth year, captain and beater for the Gryffindor quidditch team, is chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. He’s the first person belonging to Hogwarts that tosses his name in, and his name is the first to fly out in a plume of purple fire, landing gracefully in the Headmaster’s hand. His name is called, the entirety of Gryffindor cheers, and Billy smiles like he’s already won the cup.

Across the room, sitting with the rest of the Hufflepuffs, Steve Harrington—seventh year, prefect, quidditch captain and keeper– rolls his eyes as Billy peacocks around for his fellow Gryffindors, and tries not to appear fond in any way shape or form.

Later that night, when they find each other in the Forbidden Forest, Steve tries his best to quail the concern in his stomach that’s been growing since the goblet spat out his boyfriend’s name. Billy arrives in the form of a large, blonde wolf, barreling through the trees more like an excited puppy than a dangerous predator. He skids to a halt in front of Steve and shifts back into a human, lips pulled back in a wide smile, white canines slowly sinking back into normal, blunt teeth.

“Harrington,” he breathes, lungs empty of air because of his excitement rather than his run. “Harrington,” he repeats—purrs—while taking two more steps toward the other boy. Steve takes two steps back, lets Billy crowd him against the closest tree, lets him press his face into his neck and breathe hot, wet breaths against his skin. He smiles despite himself, curls his fingers into Billy’s hips, and closes his eyes.

“Congratulations,” he says, and he means it despite his worry. The Triwizard Tournament is all Billy’s been able to talk about for months. He wanted it so bad, and now he has it. Now he’s a competitor. Now he will fight tooth and nail for victory and fame. Now he will put his life on the line for a title.

It’s not something Steve understands—dying just to prove yourself—but he also knows he and Billy come from two very different worlds. Steve grew up a wizard, a pure-blood, from one of the most well-known magical families in the entire world. He’s never had to fight for anything. Billy, however, didn’t even know magic existed until six years ago. A muggle born who saw magic and Hogwarts as his saving grace. Grace that plucked him from the nightmare that waits for him back home. A boy of only sixteen who has had to fight for every little thing he has. A man who is still desperate to prove himself to a world that both loves him for his talent and judges him over his heritage.

“You’ll do great,” Steve says, and swallows down his deepest fears and worries because he doesn’t want to ruin this for Billy. Billy who kisses him like Steve will somehow give him the breath he can’t find. Whose hands search and pull at Steve’s robes until he can get his fingers on warm, pale skin. Whose lips suck and teeth nip at Steve’ neck, shoulders, and chest, until Steve is trembling and needing.

Billy who laughs like he’s already won, and pulls back with a glint in his eye before shifting and taking off deeper into the dangerous dark woods. He howls as he disappears, inviting Steve to follow, challenging Steve to chase.

Vietnam War/Hippie counterculture au

I honestly have SUCH a thing for Steve realizing how badly Billy needs praise, long before he and Billy have sex. Like, I’m talking first kisses and Steve is just over the moon because Billy looks so beautiful in the moonlight and he’s so freaking gentle and terrified of showing anyone his true feelings. So Steve would just tell him all these revelations as they pop into his head. All in whispers, spoken against skin as he holds Billy’s face in both hands and practically breaks at the way those big, blue eyes fill with tears. He calls him strong, smart, stubborn [which makes Billy laugh and knocks a few tears loose to fall down his cheeks] and wonderful. 

UGH. I want Steve to shatter Billy with sweet words. Only later do I see it becoming anything sexual. Like, months down the road. But even then, I’d see it as a caring thing, words whispered between lovers as they lose themselves in each other. 

AO3

Harringrove Fic. Prompt 13. Are you still awake…?

Find Part 14 here

Masterpost here

Billy ran his fingertips through the choppy, shorter curls at the back of his skull – tracing them over the bumpy ridge of old scabbing where his head had hit the corner of a door. Testing to see how tender it was, how far along the healing was. It would be gone soon, he thought. Nothing more than a scar and a memory.

It had been a bitch trying to pull out the makeshift floss stitches himself about a week before, especially when he couldn’t see what the hell he was doing with a pair of nail scissors and a hand mirror. Wincing at the tug in his skin as he pulled the bits of floss out by hand.

He wasn’t gonna ask Maxine to do it, and he sure as hell wasn’t going back to the Byer’s place. He didn’t want to see that woman again. Didn’t like the way she made him feel. Didn’t like that Mr. Cellophane look she gave him with those big eyes, didn’t like her hands on him like he weren’t some piecea shit. Like he meant something. Like a lie. So he’d done it himself.

Billy let his hand drop from the bump of a soon-to-be scar, leaning against the counter of the bathroom with his dark wash jeans, hooking his hands against the edge as he went in closer to his reflection, tilting his head as he searched his face for any remnants of bruises – they were gone, really. Ghosts of yellow in a few places, but nothing more.

He tilted his head down a little, resting his forehead against the mirror, eyes closing for a brief second. Breath fogging the glass in little puffs.

He could hear the TV blaring from out in the living room, and his old man was bitching at Maxine about it, telling her to turn it the fuck down and what the hell kinda shit did she think she was watching?

Billy knew she was watching Family Ties ‘cause she had a thing for mooning over Michael J. Fox – knew, ‘cause he’d just been watchin’ it with her. He heard the TV go dead as his pops turned the box off. Neil had been a real picnic all week – since he’d shown up drunk as a skunk halfway through spring break, and onward. Billy didn’t think he’d gotten sober once.

He hadn’t been going to work, and he wouldn’t talk about why, neither. But Billy knew why. He’d figured it out pretty damn fast after that first day. Neil must’ve gotten laid off, it was the best explanation for him fuckin’ around the house all week, all day. Nippin’ at Billy’s heels and breathing down Maxine’s neck. Ticked off at everything and taking it out on them. Briefcase lying absently by the door.

Susan wasn’t here. She’d gone shopping or some shit out with her mom in Chicago, and they were staying for the week on vacation. Maxine was supposed to have gone with them, but she’d wanted to stay in town for break to hang out with her little nerd friends and play their little nerd game and go to their little nerd arcade.

Billy wished she’d gone, especially now, with the way his pops had been acting. It made Billy nervous as fuck, even if he wouldn’t say it.

His dad had had an Old Milwaukee in his hand from morning to night – waking up with one in his hand, going to bed and leaving a half empty can on the nightstand. Finishing it flat in the morning to not let it go to waste, and to kick start his buzz bright and early.

Fuck, he wished Maxine had gone with her mom.

This shirt unbutton over bare chest, collar popped:

And these trunks: