#redswriting

It's been a few days but here's a thing.

So say Steve can't really build muscle like Billy can, so Billy challenges Steve to an arm wrestle thinking he'd win hands down, but Steve actually thrashing him at the arm wrestle.

How does Billy react to that?

Hey hey!😜

*****

"So what do ya say, Princess Peaches?" Billy Hargrove pesters, wiggling his unfairly defined eyebrows at Steve, who suppresses the all-too-familiar urge to punch him square in the nose. Maybe mess that pretty face of his up a bit. God, Hargrove got on his nerves.

Despite both boys being subjected to the torture of high school gym class, the infuriating blonde was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, a cocky smirk gracing his face.

In the words of Dustin Henderson, fuck Billy Hargrove.

"Are you sure it's the same sentiment?" Robin had teased Steve before their shift ended. Funnily enough, she'd been wiggling her brows too. Like someone. Of course, he'd retorted far too quickly, which only made her smirk wider. What was it with ocean-eyed smartasses and their constant need to make his life a living hell?

"What?" Steve grits out, wiping a sheen of perspiration from his brow with his equally damp forearm.

Hargrove watches him giddily, showing no signs of exhaustion yet. He's drenched in sweat, too, only it makes his tanned skin glow, dripping off his dense muscles like wet paint, his tongue an untrained dog wagging back and forth, incapable of staying in his ever-flapping mouth.

"Arm wrestle me, Pretty Boy," he says, clucking that damned organ- that instrument of his at the end of the random proposition.

He could charm Steve into shaving his hair and jumping into a frozen lake. Worst of all, he bet his buttons that Hargrove knew this.

"You're crazy," Steve wheezes, panting as though his lungs were on a treadmill fighting for breath.

The other boy snorts hoggishly, shrugging his massive shoulders. "News to me. So, how about it?"

"I'm dying here, man. How are you not running on empty?"

"Plenty of fuel left in the tank," Hargrove replies smugly, patting his abdomen, and letting out a burp as he does so.

Steve cringes. Geez Louise, I really know how to pick 'em.

"Unless you're... a fraidy cat. In that case-"

Oh, hell no.

"Let's get this over with, Dumbo," Steve spits.

Hargrove gives him a kid locked in a candy store grin, and they sit on the floor across from each other. He extends his hand, and Steve takes it, taking pride in knowing his is slightly bigger.

But Hargrove is meaty and those muscles, despite the slight pillowy plushness, aren't just for show.

"One, two, three, go!" Hagan - why was he always there- yells.

Billy grips Steve's hand, arms bulging. Steve bares his teeth, thinking of the fucking demodogs he's launched into the air with his bat. He's nowhere near as bulky as Billy, but he's not going down without putting up a fight.

His bicep burning, teeth sawing clean through his bottom lip, he puts all his frustration, all the powerlessness he's felt these last few weeks, into that arm.

And he ends up anchoring down Hargrove's arm.

"Holy shit, Harrington!" Tommy caws over his shoulder. "You beat Hargrove-"

Speaking of, Billy pulls his hand out of Steve's, and gets up, pushing past him. Steve looks up to tease him for being a sore loser, when he swears he hears a fond, "Not bad, Pretty Boy, not bad," accompanied by a soft smile.

"Asshole!" Steve yells at his retreating back, not able to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Fuckface!" Billy calls back, and Steve pushes down the new urge to tackle him, kissing his lips to see if he really tastes like cherries.

For now, he'll settle with the harmless stolen glances in the shower. And these moments, fleeting as they were.

Not bad, either, Barbie, not bad at all.

****

Tags:

@emeraldwitches

@ouizzyharringrove

@whoringrove

@geormenia

@thatawkwardlittlefangirl

@magellan-88

@namorian

@m0isttoenails

@shipworm

@polaris-ursae

@wixterirox

@flayedintheusa

@harringrovetrashh

@harringroveho

@spaceboxkitty

@phishyie

@suspiciouslackofclowns

@talesfrom-theupsidedown

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.

Tags:

@emeraldwitches

@ouizzyharringrove

@talesfrom-theupsidedown

@cherry-sorry

@wixterirox

@thatawkwardlittlefangirl

@officialjoekeery

@polaris-ursae

@magellan-88

@flayedintheusa

@m0isttoenails

@phishyie

@shipworm

@harringroveho

@whoringrove

@jaethecreator

No, he's got Billy now. And Billy's got him. Maybe that's enough. What a thought. To be whole to someone. Two broken hearts, yet somehow together they fit.

Maybe they weren't broken to begin with. Just bruised.

A little snippet from one of the many wips whirling about in the factory lol

When he meets Steve, he swears the cracks in his heart start to fill, and the fire that used to keep him from giving up starts ablazing, stronger than before.

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Eddie Munson Characters: Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington (Mentioned), Max Mayfield )mentioned, Neil Hargrove (mentioned) Additional Tags: mentions of abuse, the saddest gay trash boy in Indiana, two metalheads, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Crying Billy Hargrove, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Has Feelings, Let Billy Hargrove have a boyfriend, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Self-Medication, Angst, but it gets better Summary:

While Billy Hargrove lies with a needle in his neck in a stranger's house, Eddie Munson takes a midnight stroll.

Tags: 

@talesfrom-theupsidedown

@emeraldwitches

@thatawkwardlittlefangirl

@geormenia

@ouizzyharringrove

@whoringrove

@magellan-88

@namorian

@m0isttoenails

@shipworm

@polaris-ursae

@wixterirox

@flayedintheusa

@harringrovetrashh 

@spaceboxkitty

@phishyie

@suspiciouslackofclowns

First post, figured I’d start off by introducing myself. I’m Red, and I’m a dog groomer by day, Horror genre writer by night.  One of my proudest works is the pasta written above.

My goal in writing is to terrify, creep-out, disgust, and strike fear into the hearts of all my readers. I like to try and dabble in all types of creepy writing, but my favorite is the psychological variety.