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lovebillyhargrove · 11 months

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Harringrove seasons AU

***

August is running out. It is the time when nights have already started getting perceptibly colder, but days are still so heartbreakingly warm, you don't wanna let go.

Like Steve, who doesn't want to let go of Billy.

Or Billy, who wants to hold on to Steve.

Who desperately wishes to add just a couple of more days to August. Make it thirty-three. Or thirty-five.

At least.

***

One evening Steve sets off to look for Billy, because he hasn't seen him in the last three days. When he asks the magpies if they know where the summer is, they tell him he's wandering around the woods with a big basket searching for something and talking to himself like a madman.

"The summer's gone cuckoo!" - they burst out into chatter and laughter, but Steve isn't up for having fun.

Only close to midnight does he finally find Billy.

The warm simmering light and the sweet smell of burning pine wood have led him on the right path.

Steve sees Billy in the thick of the forest, on a small clearing, surrounded by tall mighty oak trees, so tall that their tops get lost in the dark starry sky above. Stars in August are witchy, it is common knowledge. They are so distant, so sparkly and cold, and they are watching you.

August stars are enchanted just like everything else around. The night is cool and damp, and there is dense fog laying heavy in milky swirls above and around the swamp nearby. Under every leaf there lives a mystery, a story, a creature. Behind one single cloud hides the silver moon, waiting to flood all with its crisp eerie shine.

The stars are twinkling bright, so magically bright, and the chilly, hocus scented air fills the head of a midnight wanderer with clarity and vigor, and anticipation of a miracle.

Steve is trying to be as quiet as possible, not to disturb.

Everything around is immersed in sleepy calm, and only the frogs' drowsy ribbit-ribbitting and distant hooting of a night bird fill the deep silence. The usual night orchestra.

As he is making his way towards Billy, there's a falling star, shooting right above the clearing, and Steve makes a wish - to always find summer.

Billy is busy.

Steve sees a big fire, sparks flying up towards the invisible tree crowns, and Billy's focused face lightened by the glow.

He is constantly stirring something gurgling and boiling in a huge cauldron, muttering under his breath

"Seven red fly agarics, nine orange ones .. three yellow .. thirteen russules, each a different colour .. eight orange chanterelle mushrooms of different sizes .."

With one hand he stirs whatever is brewing in the cauldron, and in the other he holds a thread with dry and semi-dry mushrooms strung on it. From time to time, he stops stirring and plucks the mushrooms from the thread, counting.

"Eleven brown hay mushrooms, one birch chaga, the size of a palm .. where the hell is this chaga .. ??" - he stops stirring and pokes around in the basket standing nearby. - "Alright. Found it. Come here, don't fight it .. seventeen honey fungi .. three aspen mushrooms .. ugh, you are such beauties .. All of you."

Billy looks like a witch. Too bad he's not wearing a spiked black hat and a black cloak

Stirring, mixing that magic

"Wait a second, did I put twelve ink mushrooms .. ? Yes, yes, I did. Ten violet webcaps .. and one whole circle of fairy-ring mushrooms."

"Oh, I forgot you buddy .. one grey spotted amantia, here you go .."

"Okay now for the more serious stuff."

Billy grunts and goes digging in the basket again.

"One satan's bolete .. A set of devil's fingers .. spooky .. And, finally, one pale grebe."

Steve steps out into the clearing

"Oh, do you mean a death angel?"

Billy stops mixing whatever there is in the cauldron and looks up.

"You startled me, pretty boy. And yes, it's the same one, different names."

Steve is still watching Billy in bewilderment

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm making a potion. Can't you see?" He answers seriously.

"A potion?" Steve is amused.

"An old owl told me. Who lives in the hollow of a hundred-year-old elm tree, down by the river."

"What is the potion for?"

"For .. making it last a little longer. Stalling the time. See, I don't want to go yet. I want to stay, just a bit more .. It's going to give me the power to do that."

"Oh. But .. Billy, this old owl is so old, she has dementia. I wouldn't trust her on anything she says."

"Well, I've got no other choice."

Steve is amused but he also knows that he has to soothe Billy's unnecessary wilful wanting, once again.

"When will it be ready?"

"In the morning. I should drink it when the first sun ray breaks the sky."

Steve sits near the fire and Billy joins him after some time. The fire is getting duller, the potion stops gurgling and is beginning to settle.

Billy is the first to slide into sleep near the dying flames, and Steve is gazing at the bright live coals, listening to night sounds and Billy's even breath, until his own eyelids become heavy and eventually fall.

In the morning, Steve is woken up by Billy's upset voice:

"No, no! I'm two hours late! .. The sun is already high in the sky."

He is pacing around the grey ashes, looking at the sky and fiddling with his necklace

"No, oh no ..! That's all your fault, autumn. I always sleep longer when I'm with you. I can't drink it now. Do you know how long I've searched for these?? How many woods I have wandered through?"

In a swift fit of anger Billy kicks the cauldron. It falls and tips over. Steve's still on the ground, watching the thick substance pour out of it on a patch of green moss.

"I am sorry, Billy, truly. But .. I am of the opinion that you shouldn't have drunk it anyways."

Billy's looking at the spilled potion.

"Baby. You are such a baby sometimes, Billy."

"I'm just sad. So much work for nothing." - Billy sighs and pouts a little.

"It is only .. really, it is only less than half a year. We will meet so soon, in the northern hemisphere. Aren't you excited?"

Billy is shaking his head, slowly and gloomily.

"I don't wanna leave."

Steve gets up, comes close and gently traces his fingers down Billy's arm.

"You are not leaving just yet. We still have time. We have all the time in the world. But when you do go, think of the moment we will meet again. Because it will happen, it is the way the world works."

They are standing amidst the ever-living nature.

"I need to bring back the pot and the basket. I borrowed them from a barn in the village."

"I will help you."

***

A couple of days later, on the very last August day, Steve takes Billy to the same clearing and shows him the prettiest gemstone of the most amazing colour, sparkling under the rays of soft morning sunshine, crystallized in the shape of a heart. There's moss and some beautiful exotic flowers growing around it.

"It is so pretty, but I am glad you didn't drink the potion."

"I wonder if it's going to stay here till next season."

"Let's hide it."

Steve takes the gemstone, it's rather big and heavy, and carries it to a hollowed out log near the swamp.

"We can come back next year and see if it is still here. It will be our secret."

August and September are my absolute favourite months, and I'm also stuck on the idea of summer and autumn not wanting to part. Billy especially is having a hard time.

Thank you @akioukun ✨💖 for the 💫 magical au

#harringrove #harringrove seasons au #billy x steve #summer billy x autumn steve #harringrove fic

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ihni · 1 year

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I don't know who wrote this (it's another unrevealed author for the Harringrove Holiday Exchange), but I read this one recently and fell in love with it! What can I say, I'm weak for something like a fairy-tale.

You know A Christmas Carol? Yeah, that, but with Billy. Oh, and with witchy Claudia Henderson, and a Neil who gets what he deserves.

I love it. It made my heart feel like it was wrapped in a thick layer of warm cotton, and I had a smile on my face the whole time I was reading it. Recommended!

#ihni reads and recs in the last days of the year!

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ghostlynimbus · 2 years

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Okay so I am sick and feeling a little miserable atm so i decided to try coming up with an ask game.

I'll list my playlists along with the number of songs in them, and if anyone wants to they can send me a playlist and a number and I'll shuffle that playlist and tell you what song ended up in that slot? and/or y'all could ask questions about a song/playlist.

I have a lot of playlists (and all of them are WIPs) so... this is going to be a bit of a long post. xD

Playlist - # of songs

(Apocalypse AU) Reddie - 2

(BAU) - 49

(BAU) Country B - 2

(BAU) Draco - 5

(BAU) Drarry - 3

(BAU) Fleur - 1

(BAU) Ginny - 1

(BAU) Harry - 5

(BAU) Key Themes - 1

(BAU) Lucius x Narcissa - 1

(BAU) Riddle - 3

(BAU) Wedding at Malfoy Manor - 1

(BNHA) Kiribaku - 1

(Complex) - 16

(Complex) Antony - 1

(Complex) MC - 2

(Complex) Rudy - 6

(Complex) Rudy x MC - 2

(DCU) Dick Greyson - 6

(DND) - 71

(DND) Apathy Oathbreaker - 4

(DND) Archer - 1

(DND) Nemain - 2

(DND) Phoenix - 7

(DND) Raav - 1

(DND) Warpath - 2

(Glee) David Karofsky - 1

(Glee) Kurt Hummel - 1

(Glee) Kurtofsky - 13

(Glee) Santana Lopez - 1

(HP) Drarry - 1

(INTSIAF) - 1

(It) Losers Club - 3

(It) Reddie - 46

(It) Richie Tozier - 17

(MP100) Mob - 2

(MT) Monster Town - 63

(MT) Alabama - 2

(MT) Dr. Frankenstein - 1

(MT) Harbinger - 1

(MT) Harbinger's Daughter - 1

(MT) HDxCD - 5

(MT) Keith - 4

(MT) Kroila - 2

(MT) Lance - 2

(MT) Old Man Ocean - 3

(MT) Phoenix - 8

(MT) Preacher - 3

(MT) Sheith - 2

(MT) Shiro - 4

(MT) Siren - 1

(MT) West - 3

(MWU) - 2

(OC) Annie - 1

(OC) Nicky - 40

(Roam) - 60

(Roam) Gil - 5

(Roam) Tyson - 25

(S) Supernatural - 1

(S) Dean - 22

(ST) Billy & Max - 8

(ST) Billy Hargrove - 77

(ST) Chrissy Cunningham - 10

(ST) Eddie Munson - 19

(ST) Harringrove - 112

(ST) Hidden Hawkins - 1

(ST) Hopper - 1

(ST) Max Mayfield - 6

(ST) Munningham - 32

(ST) Robin Buckley - 3

(ST) Steve & Dustin - 1

(ST) Steve & Robin - 2

(ST) Steve Harrington - 39

(ST) Superhero AU - 1

(VLD) Lance - 4

Cafe - 10

Hot Pavement - 5

LITW - 17

Love Songs - 46

Melancholy - 12

Midnight - 40

Midnight Kitchen - 4

Motivation - 4

Rainy Coffee Shop - 8

Road Trip - 48

Spouse - 20

Sunday Morning - 12

Sunflower - 6

Sunrise - 4

T Shirt Shop - 15

Witchy - 7

ZR - 49

#long post #ask game #music #harringrove #eddissy #munningham #drarry #reddie #other things that arent tagged bc its a long list

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cherrydreamer · 3 years

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(This one is for @ihni and is based on her amazing Midsummer doodle) (TW for implied/reference child abuse (Neil Hargrove’s usual assholery)

AO3 Link

Midsummer (4.3k) Billy always knew his Mom was a little different from other moms. Other moms knew all about things like how to get the grass stains out of white shirts or how to pack a lunch box so the juice carton didn’t squash the fruit and the tomatoes in the sandwich didn't make the bread all soggy. And other moms remembered to make brownies for the bake sales, and to send their kids in the right costumes for dress up days and to bring enough money to the store so they don’t have to leave the candy behind.

But Billy didn’t mind too much when his Mom didn’t know about those things. Because his mom knew all about magic.

She had a head full of rituals and rites from way way back, starting with some Swedish great-great-great-great-great grandmother and then handed down from mother to daughter for generations. Things like throwing a continuous strand of apple peel over your shoulder to reveal your lover's first initial or gazing into a candlelit bowl of water and waiting for a glimpse of the future. And she knew really clever things too, like which flowers she could make into a tea to help Billy with his stomach aches, and which ones could be rubbed onto an arm to stop a bruise appearing. But it was the Midsummer rituals that she held most dear. The ones about rolling naked in dew or tying coloured threads to sprouts of barley or running around a field at midnight with a four-leafed clover clutched to your breast.

None of it was very practical of course, in their shabby little house on the shabby little street, miles away from fields of wheat and with a husband who saw nothing charming or fun about a wife who slipped away in the middle of the night in just a flimsy nightgown, but there was one she managed to get away with most years.

The gathering of flowers.

Collect seven different types of flowers from as many meadows. When going to bed, put the bouquet underneath your pillow. You will see your true love in your dream.

She'd explained it all to Billy one morning when he saw her arranging the crumpled, slightly squashed flowers into the old polka-dotted jug that stood in the kitchen windowsill. She told him all about the midsummer magic and the visions of your true love and Billy had been confused. Not about the magic- that all made sense- but about why she still did it. And so he’d asked her, with all the innocence of the young, "Isn't Daddy your true love?"

She'd sighed then, pausing as she gently nudged the dropping rose into place, and then she’d looked at him, a wistful look that didn’t at all match up with her big smile, "Sometimes it's still nice to dream, baby."

The next year she took Billy with her. They hadn't stuck to the rules, not exactly. Billy was pretty sure that their scrap of backyard didn't count as a meadow, and neither did the slightly less scrappy front yard owned by their neighbour and he was almost certain that the poppies from the side of the road probably shouldn't count either.

But his Mom reassured him that it was OK, that as long as he tried hard to think good thoughts before he went to sleep the magic would still work. And Billy found himself believing, eager to see what his dreams had in store for him. He even went to bed an hour earlier than his usual bedtime, running to his room as soon as they got in to tuck the flowers carefully under his pillow case before he lay down, still in his outdoor clothes and squeezed his eyes shut, willing sleep to come.

It wasn't easy. The roadside flowers had a weird chemical smell which made his nose hurt and there were still some prickly thorns on the rose and he couldn't help but think of the fact that Hogan, the neighbour’s soppy St Bernard, had almost certainly peed all over the lilacs, but Billy tried to ignore all of that and willed himself to think of only good things instead. Things like beaches and rock pools and apple pies with a drizzle of honey and picnics with his Mom and Dad and the time his third grade teacher had said he wrote the most engaging story about a surfing penguin that she had ever read and gave him two gold stars and a glow in the dark sticker.

And eventually Billy slept. But he didn't dream. Didn't get to see his true love. Didn't wake with a vision in his mind and a smile on his face.

Instead he was woken abruptly, his heart hammering in fear as he was yanked up roughly by his arm to be faced with a furious Neil who'd followed a trail of muddy footprint to Billy's room and then found a parade of bugs that had been hiding in the flowers and had crawled out onto Billy's sheets in the middle of the night. And so instead of his flowers being arranged in his Mom's spotted jug, they were thrown unceremoniously into the trash, and instead of chatting eagerly about his dreams with his Mom over breakfast, Billy was made to go hungry as he stripped the sheets from his bed and cleaned his room from top to bottom, all the while ignoring the stinging tears in his eyes and the burning pain in his shoulder.

By the next Midsummer, Billy's Mom wasn't around anymore and Billy soon forgot the rituals. Not that it mattered. He didn't believe in magic anymore.

---

It's later, years later, when he’s reminded of it again. Almost a year after The MindFlayer, a year after Billy's entire life turned upside down. A year after everything changed.

Some of it for the better.

He’s still stuck in Hawkins, courtesy of some government mandated bullshit, but they gave him enough hush money to make it out of Cherry Lane and Billy scored himself a sizeable trailer right on the outskirts of town, far enough from Neil for him to finally feel safe but still close enough that Max was able to visit after school.

Max is one of the better changes. Maybe the best. Top two at least. They’re closer now. Shared trauma and last-word apologies being more than enough to bridge a gap. And it's on one of her visits that Max stirs it all up.

Not that she means to. She's sitting on Billy's third-hand beaten-up couch while he cooks, droning on about a party the older kids at school are throwing that night, something called a ‘Midsummer Mixer’, which seemingly has absolutely nothing to do with the solstice and everything to do with finding an excuse to get drunk and have a party in a farmer's field, and angsting out loud about Lucas and the pretty girls at school who will definitely be there too and how she doesn't know if she should go. How she doesn't have the right look. How she doesn't fit in yet.

Teenage girl bullshit, really, Billy thinks. Shit she only thinks she needs to care about because she's started reading Teen Beat and Seventeen instead of comic books and skateboard mags.

But then he looks up from the sauce he’s simmering on the stove and sees the real distress in her eyes. The sadness she’s trying to mask with her moaning. So he turns the pan down, walking over to the back of the couch and ruffling a hand in her hair as she scowls and bats him away,

“Stop whining, shitbird. It’s a party, yeah? Just a lame bonfire in a shitty field. It’s not exactly the height of the Hawkins social scene.”

And then he does his usual big brother warnings, wagging his finger as he imparts wisdom such as, ‘beer before liquor, never been sicker’ before reeling off a load of exaggerated teen pregnancy horror stories, relishing the way that Max goes bright red and tries to cover her ears. He hams it up, his voice getting louder and louder over the sounds of her disgust, his hands catching her skinny wrists as she tries to clap a hand over his mouth or shut him up with a jab to his ticklish ribs.

Eventually Billy runs out of ways to embarrass her and Max runs out of energy, but she’s finally smiling and the pan on the stove is starting to bubble again, so they call a hasty truce.

Billy loads them both a plate of spaghetti and then, between shovelled mouthfuls, starts giving her some proper brotherly advice. "Seriously Max, lame as you are, you're still a million times cooler than those stuck up bitches. But-" he pauses as he stands up, holding up one finger to get her to wait as he leaves the room, "If you wanna really show 'em-" he calls from the tiny bedroom in the back of the trailer, "then wear...this."

He comes out brandishing a denim jacket. It's well-worn. Parts of it are faded and there's a hole starting to wear by the cuff, but the collection of band pins and patches give it an air of coolness that more than make up for its shabbiness.

"Wear this with that ratty green dress you got last week, and definitely wear your Chucks instead of trying to stagger around a field in dumb heels. Trust me-" he throws the jacket at her, hitting her smack in the face, "You'll look.... You’ll be fine."

But he watches as Max just picks at her food, a furrow in her brow as she stares at the plate, so as soon as they’ve finished with dinner Billy forces her to stay in her chair so he can braid her hair, arranging it into a fancy, twirly crown around her head. He steps back to admire his handwork, reaching out to undo a few strands which fall artfully around her face, and then he nods, satisfied.

“Done. Now you gotta scoot, OK? Get home, get dressed and go have some actual proper fun for the first time in ever.”

Billy walks her out with a few more half-jokey warnings and a sincere promise to call him if she gets into any trouble at all. He’s just about to close the door when he spots the little crop of stubborn daisies and Queen Anne’s Lace that grows around his mailbox, and he calls Max back, getting her to sit on the wooden steps just outside his door as he carefully weaves a selection of the white flowers in and out of her braid.

“There y’go,” he murmurs when he’s done, “Proper May Queen now. Just don’t mess ‘em up when you put your dress on.”

Max raises a tentative hand to touch the petals, and Billy instantly slaps it down, “What did I say?” he grumbles at her, “Don’t mess ‘em up. You’ll never get it looking as good as I have.”

Max grumbles back at him, but he can tell by her smile, and the way she keeps on checking her reflection in the trailer’s windows that she’s pleased. He lets her preen for a few minutes, then waves her away, “Get gone, shitbird. Try not to land on your head if you fall off your bike. Your ass is a softer landing anyway.”

Max flips him the bird as she cycles away. And then Billy’s left alone.

And for the first time in years, he thinks about his old midsummers. The rituals. The rites. The flowers. He knows now, from painful, first-hand experience, that monsters exist. And if nightmares can be real, why not dreams? Why not magic? Why not true love? And he has meadows now, a whole load of fields that surround his little house. He knows them well. He’s walked the paths and navigated the trails and he’s seen the flowers springing up. There’s easily at least seven different types. And it is Midsummer Eve.

Billy’s walking away from his trailer before he even realises. It’s the perfect time of day, that point in a summer’s evening when everything is tinged with a rosy hue and the searing heat of the day has softened into something pleasant and the breeze has started to stir. So Billy walks. And he smiles.

When he reaches the first meadow he thinks about his Mom. He wonders if she ever did find the person she dreamed of. Someone who'd let her roll in the morning dew. Maybe even someone who'd roll with her. Billy lets himself imagine her, just for a moment, pictures her encouraging smile and tries to remember the exact scent of her jasmine perfume and the way her lips would feel on his forehead. And then, when the ache in his heart starts to feel like too much, he shakes the thought away and picks his first flower. A bright yellow daffodil.

And then he moves on. Moves to another field. Another flower. And he finds himself thinking of another person entirely.

Harrington. Steve. The first face he saw when he woke up in hospital. Steve, with his long body sprawled out awkwardly on the rigid plastic seat, face crumpled against his palm and his hair mussed as he sat half dozing; sudden jolting upright when Billy started to speak, voice rusty and cracked as he croaked out, "You look like shit.”

Steve whose big, brown eyes met his, full of exhaustion and now so much surprise. Whose lips parted in shock, just for a moment, then grew into a huge smile, the brightest greeting Billy had seen for a long time. Who rolled his eyes and said, "Dude, seriously? First thing you say in three weeks and it's an insult?" And who took Billy's hand and held on and didn't let go until Billy's sudden, silent tears had subsided.

Steve who had sat by his bed for hours and explained everything. Who came everyday bringing magazines and a Walkman and, on one occasion, some weird handheld game console that neither of them really knew how to play, but that Billy kept because it made Max green with envy whenever she saw it.

Steve who helped Billy to move what little he had left into the trailer, and then stayed because he had bet with Billy that ‘none of the good pizza places will deliver all the way out here’ and who then insisted on crashing on the couch because he was ‘far too tired to drive home now, Hargrove. I’m a danger to all the other road users.’

Steve who was there, right there, when Billy woke up on his first night in an unfamiliar place with a scream in his throat and tears on his cheeks. Steve who whispered reassurances and held Billy until he calmed, and then made a joke about his morning breath not being that horrifying, surely Hargrove, as he flicked on the lamp and turned on the radio and filled the trailer with light and sound and chatter and jokes.

Steve who kept turning up to Billy’s trailer with the Harrington’s hand-me-downs like the television set that apparently didn’t quite fit with Mrs. Harrington’s living room decor and the thick, woolen blankets that had started to make Mr. Harrington sneeze.

Steve who turned up on Halloween with horror films and candy, and on Thanksgiving with Tupperwares filled with leftovers and on Christmas with a boombox tied with a red ribbon and a bag filled with twenty individually wrapped tapes so that Billy would have 'a few more things to unwrap'. Steve who seemed surprised when Billy handed his own little clumsily wrapped package, and then utterly delighted when he opened it to reveal the little plush rooster- a call back to some dumb in-joke that had sprung up between them.

Steve who also came over even when it wasn't a holiday. Steve who kept coming round even when he didn't really have a reason to. Steve who stuck around because he wanted to.

Billy walks over to the next meadow letting his fingers trail along the tops of bellflowers that had grown to reach his knees. And he keeps thinking about Steve.

He thinks about his tiny moles peeking out from the collar of a polo shirt; he thinks about his warm chuckle that Billy knows how to turn into a gasping, snorting laugh; and the way he sings along to the radio when he drives them both to the lake and the fact that Steve always gives Billy the pickle from his burger without being asked.

Billy walks through more meadows. picks more flowers. Hunts out little irises and heady lavender and vivid marigolds and the pinkest of peonies and a delicate primrose. And all the while he thinks of Steve. It doesn’t take him long before he’s done. For all the openness of the meadows, Hawkins is still a small place, and Billy’s back home just as the sun starts to set. He’s yawning as he crosses the threshold, the walk and the bending over and the heat of the day have all taken it out of him. And maybe he’s a little eager too, maybe there’s still a part of him that's still an excited little boy. So Billy gently shakes the flowers out one by one over the bathroom sink, checking them carefully for bugs before he gathers them back into a bundle to lay under his pillow.

This time there are no prickly thorns to prick his skin, no chemical scents to catch in his throat, nothing but the sweet scent of the flowers and the bubble of excitement in Billy’s chest. He doesn't need to remind himself to think happy thoughts. Right now, they're the only kind on his mind. And, for once, sleep comes easily.

---

He opens his eyes to find himself in the meadow again. Lying down this time, with a picnic blanket spread underneath him. And Steve’s smiling face above him, looking down.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”

Billy just blinks at him, and Steve smiles even more, “You’re like a cat, sleeping in a sunbeam, ‘s cute." But then Steve’s brow furrows a little and concern fills his tone, “Are you feeling OK? Not too tired? I know it’s a bit of a walk to get here but I thought...worth it, y’know? Cause it’s quiet and you hardly ever see anyone and the flowers are-”

“Steve,” Billy cuts him off gently, “It’s perfect, sweetheart.” The endearment trips from his tongue before he can stop it, but it makes Steve smile instantly, his worry lines disappearing as his eyes crinkle instead.

“Well that’s all good then. You deserve perfect, baby."

And then Steve’s leaning forward. And Billy’s closing his eyes. But what he expects doesn't happen. Instead Steve leans past him, reaching out into the grass and pulling up a flower. A bright pink peony that he twirls in his fingers and then slips into Billy's hair, tucking the stem just behind Billy's ear and carefully arranging it until it's sitting just right. He sits back and admires his handiwork, his thumb brushing against Billy's cheek as he cups Billy's face and gazes at him with something like wonderment.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, and Billy can hear the sincerity in his voice. The weight of it. And then Steve leans forward again. And this time he closes his eyes too.

---

Billy wakes with a jolt. There’s a tingle on his lips and his heart is hammering and his stomach is whirling madly. But it's the good kind of whirling. The excited kind. Butterflies rather than tendrils. He knows, without even glancing in the mirror, that he's woken up with a smile on his face. Big and bright and real. He also knows that he shouldn’t think too much of it. He’s dreamt of Steve before, and not always innocently either, but the dream he just had feels like something more. Something deeper. Something special.

Magical.

Billy can’t shake the images from the dream. He thinks about it as he goes to the bathroom and washes his face. He thinks about it as gets dressed. He thinks about it as he picks up the slightly crushed flowers from under his pillow, straightening them out and bundling them together to place in the chipped beer glass he found in his cabinet.

And then he has an idea.

---

He’s in his truck, idling outside of Loch Nora before it hits him that he might be being dumb. But he can’t turn back now. He won’t. Instead he parks up a little way away from the houses and gathers up the flowers from the passenger seat, giving them a quick once over before he’s springing out of the truck and walking a familiar route to a familiar house.

It’s still early. There’s still morning dew on the lawns and, save for a single, dedicated jogger, there’s no one around. And Billy knows Steve’s work schedule well enough to know that he’ll almost certainly still be sleeping off the stresses of a late shift with Keith. But he’s still cautious, still makes himself step quietly as he passes Beemer is parked neatly on the driveway and stands outside Steve's door.

He clutches the bouquet in his hand. Thinks for just a second before he’s tugging the scrunchie from his hair- the skull-patterned one that Max bought him when she saw his hair creeping past his shoulders- and wrapping it securely around the stems of the flowers, tying them into a makeshift bouquet. It’s not exactly luxurious, the flowers aren’t exactly at their best after a night being flattened under Billy’s pillow, and they could definitely do with some water to perk them up. But the red of the scrunchie adds an extra touch of brightness, and there’s a certain rustic charm about the shabbiness of the blooms.

So Billy stops doubting them. Stops doubting himself. He places the bouquet down on the doorstep. And then, without a backwards glance, he walks away. Half an hour later, there's a knock at Billy's door. It's Steve. Standing there with the tiny bouquet in his hands and Billy's scrunchie wrapped around his wrist.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. And then Steve smiles. Smaller and shyer than Billy's ever seen him smile before. Bashful. Billy's almost expecting him to shove his hands in his pockets and start drawing circles in the dirt with his sneaker. Instead he turns the flowers over and over in his hands, looking down at them and then back up at Billy.

"No one's ever given me flowers before," he says.

Billy swallows the bubble of fear rising in his throat. Bites back all the words of denial and fake confusion despite the glaring red evidence wrapped around Steve wrist. Instead he raises an eyebrow, "Bit presumptuous, Harrington. Who says they're for you? Your Mom's a fine looking woman."

Steve laughs at that. Not the full on gaspy one, but not his polite chuckle either. Instead it's fond. Warm. Familiar. And he steps closer into Billy's space, "Not sure she's exactly your type though."

"Oh, I dunno," Billy grins back and licks his lips, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart as Steve's eyes flick down to follow the movement, "Good hair, brown eyes, nice ass and rich as fuck. Sounds exactly my type."

"My mom's eyes are green," Steve says simply. And then he pauses, his eyes falling back to the flowers in his hand as he ducks his head and shuffles his feet. And Billy’s ready to bolt. To make some excuse and slam the door and slide down on the other side of it and bury his head in his hands and scream and cry and break things and drink and cry a bit more until he passes out. But then Steve looks up at him. And he smiles again. A little bigger this time. Much less shy. He plucks a flower from the bouquet, the pink peony, and twirls it between his fingers for a moment before he threads it into the waves of Billy's hair, tucking it just behind his ear.

"Looks good. Really good," he murmurs, twisting a few of the curling strands around each other to hold the flower in place, and Billy’s fingers thrill at the contact, at the way Steve’s fingers tickle his scalp and on the sensitive shell of his ear.

And then Steve's hand slides to Billy's cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of Billy's face so gently. Reverently. Like Billy is something to treasure. They stay like that for a moment, frozen, and then Steve steps forward, closing the few inches between them, and closes his eyes. So Billy closes his eyes too. His heart hammers against his chest, and the butterflies in his stomach flutter again as Steve places his other hand on Billy's waist, the bouquet dangling from his fingers and brushing against Billy's hip.

There's another pause. Another moment.

And then Steve's lips meet his.

Billy's thundering heart soars as Steve's thumb strokes across his cheek and his fingers curl into Billy's hair and his tongue licks across Billy's lips and into his mouth and Billy can taste him, can taste his morning coffee and his toothpaste and a sweetness that is probably just the very essence of Steve and Billy knows that he’s falling into Steve, that he’s leaning right into Steve’s touch and his own hands are grasping, fingers fluttering at Steve’s waist, almost afraid to hold on, to touch, in case it’s too good to be true and he wakes up back in bed with seven flatted flowers underneath his head.

And Steve pulls back, just enough that he can gaze at Billy with an expression of pure happiness, grinning and glowing and looking so beautiful that Billy can't help but grin back. And as he does, he feels a bubble of utter joy rising from somewhere deep and long-forgotten.

And Billy believes in magic once more.

#harringrove #for ihni #because your doodles bring me so much joy #and i hope this makes you smile too #billy having a witchy mom #and being a soft boy #and being utterly in love with steve #and trying to be good for max

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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Could I get a witchySteve story? Maybe one where he doesn't know he is a witch and just instinctively imbues spells in everything he makes? Food gets spells for good health and healing, blankets for protection and wards against nightmares, jewelry for protection and never get lost, clothes for safety and warmth... That kind of thing?

Billy’s mother had magic.

She could grow any plant in even the worst soil, would talk to them, nurse them. She had a garden full of award-winning vegetables, pungent herbs, and flowers that seemed to bloom for months.

She would read Billy’s cards each morning, would tell him where to have caution throughout the day.

She could do small enchantments, little things like making the water for her tea boil immediately, healing Billy’s scrapes and bruises.

He grew up surrounded by the warm light of her magic, so he recognized ti in Steve right away.

But Steve, for how much of the otherworlds he’s seen, doesn’t actually believe in magic.

It helps that he’s naturally a caring person, that his magic comes from his love for others.

His chicken soup is the best kept secret in town. One bowl, and you won’t be sick anymore.

Steve doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. He’ll just be making soup for one of his kids, will think about how much he hopes they’re okay, and imbue the warm broth with his love.

The things he creates have their own special magic.

When he took up knitting, the mittens he created never got wet, were impenetrable by cold winds. The thick woolen blanket he gave Billy for Christmas would protect against nightmares, would always keep Billy the perfect temperature.

He always seems to be in the exact right place at the right time, just happened to be walking down the hall on the otherside of the building from the class he had left when he found Billy on the verge of an anxiety attack. He was restless one night, had a strange urge to go on a drive, had found Will Byers by the side of the road having fled his house after he and Jonathan had got in a fight.

When Billy lost his necklace at Steve’s house, he had found it quickly, it seeming to materialize in the exact same place Billy had just looked. He would laugh, clasp it back on Billy’s neck, chide him with a little quit losing this, Bill. He never lost it again.

His magic became part of the Camaro, when they were stranded by the side of the road, he accidentally made it so the battery never died, no one ever saw inside when they were fooling around, even if they pressed their nose against the window.

Whenever Billy would point out Steve’s magic, he would just laugh and shake his head. He would say caring about people isn’t magic.

Billy thinks maybe it is.

#yikes writes #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove ifclet #harringrove drabble #idk a lot about actually witchy stuff

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pondermoniums · 4 years

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Billy didn’t believe Steve was a witch.

What even is a witch, anyway? Some cloak-wearing, black-clad, big nosed lady with a bad laugh?

Steve did have a big nose, admittedly, but Billy liked it. He liked it a lot.

But maybe some things about Steve are just a little bit too...something. Magical wasn't the word. Eerie could work. Mostly Steve was a constant fire hazard and Billy somehow felt safe through it all.

Two of Cups is a companion chapter to Omega Is King, but with a witchy twist!

I’ve put it in @cockasinthebird ‘s ao3 collection for cocktember lol it might not be exactly what folks have in mind, but i was already halfway through with it when I saw the Day 21: witchcraft prompt and got overexcited haha.

Here’s Omega Is King’s matching moodboard <3

#harringrove #witchcraft au #omegaverse #a/b/o #omega steve #witchy steve #alpha billy #grey ace steve #steve's a fire hazard #cocktember #pondermoniums #omega is king #two of cups #tumblr please don't utterly destroy my moodboards #thanks #my edits #moodboards

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causticsunshine · 5 years

Photo

me: has a thousand art wips, super old commissions to wrap up, fics to update, multiple cosplays that need to be done in a month

also me: i will Die if i don’t write or draw something for halloween this year

#harringrove #witch AU #finally writing a witchy drabble/oneshot thing ok i can't stop myself anymore #my fics

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theshrinkingwitch · 5 years

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Real question:

Who gets Billy into the sauna?

#st #stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #non witchy #stranger things 3 #real questions #joe keery #dacre montgomery

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manwrre · 7 months

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ever since i saw billy’s little montage where he was getting ready, i’ve been DREAMING of a modern!witchbilly having this extensive pre-date, grwm ritual. one that he learnt from his mom, of course, who was a devout wiccan.

i’m talking about a routine that takes freaking HOURS and every part of it is infused with a bit of love magic— something that makes him smell and look divine-levels of irresistible but only to the one. which makes things really confusing at first, when oddly enough, it seems to only work on steve ie. his best friend

also known as the guy that he’s been crushing on since he was a kid. since he was a teeny tiny tot and they went to the same pre-k. and he knows, okay? He Knows. spare him the trope conversation. heather doesn’t fail to remind him that he’s a cliche!

so when steve finally asks him out, it’s no surprise that billy just really goes in. i know for a fact, he’d have a spotify playlist named ‘for s’ or some bullshit and the whole time, it’s just songs that remind him of steve. sensual, slow beats beneath the voices of frank ocean or brent faiyaz, alina baraz and dvsn.

and like, the date would be at 6pm or something but billy would start washing his hair from noon so he gets his curls all perfectly coiled. he’d use his signature scent— this rich lavender that always has steve pressing his nose into his nape. and billy would massage deosil circles into his skull to create peace of mind and set clear intentions. he’d then rub widdershins into the same spots to dispel doubt.

his next step would involve having his favorite candles lit up in the bathroom and drawing himself a bath. he’d soak in a tub of water and milk, rose petals and honey; nectar of the gods. and he’d scrub his skin clean and soft with a gentle rag, having shaved the day before and use jojoba oil to moisturize once he’s done. he’ll even dab a bit of vanilla at his pulse points to maintain before he moves unto his usual skincare.

he’d wear his favorite red shirt to incite feelings of passion and desire (and because steve can barely take his eyes off his chest). he’d have three buttons all done up, slide three, silver rings unto his fingers and layer on his three favorite chains; the metal of them cold against his chest.

his mom had always told him that there was deep magic in makeup, too. she’d sit him down at her vanity and run her hand through his hair almost idly, while getting dolled up.

and she was right, of course. there was something primordial about painting one’s face and becoming another facet of yourself. and it was obvious that women had always been inherently magical beings; mothers, like little goddesses, in their own way. his mother, salome? the most golden of them all.

so he’d think of her as he applied mascara to his lashes and eyeliner to his waterline. he’d hear her laughter while he smudged a hint of red lipstick across his cheeks and lips. he’d even blow a kiss at his own reflection or wink, the very same way that she would and knows for a fact, that the magic has been set; imbued so deeply by a love that has won battles and brought men to their knees

a mother’s.

ALSO, it’s safe to say that the first time that steve witnesses the entire process of billy getting ready, he falls in love with him all over again.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy stranger things #steve stranger things #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #boys in love #billy x steve #manwrre #witch billy #witchy harringrove #billy’s mom #billy hargrove blurb #steve harrington blurb #witches #halloween #spooky boys

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letshargroovetonight · 6 years

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because tumblr so rudely cut off my tag rambling from this post, imma just do it in an actual post. tis the season 🎃

okay SO artwork from above linked post is most totally young witchy!billy vibezzzz for me. i have a half formed notion of neil and billy’s mom divorcing when billy is pretty young and his mom gets custody of him. she moves them to a cottage on the coast, a place that’s a bit remote. and billy grows up learning spells and incantations. his mom always pats him on the head, tells him, “you’re a real natural, my little billy boy” when he gets something on his first try.

maybe it’s the isolation of it all, but billy eventually starts noticing his mom is acting strange. even though he’s still young, he picks up on the fact that something isn’t right. his mom starts delving into darker magic, doing things that drain her energy to the point where she’s so weak billy has to help her to bed, tuck her in for the night. on those days, he fends for himself around the house. makes dinner for himself, saving some for his mom if she wakes up later. he’ll practice spells alone in the kitchen, grinning when he is able to conjure up some floating plants that he knows his mom would enjoy.

one day, he’s walking back from school along the rocky shore and billy gets a really bad feeling. he runs to the cottage to find his mom collapsed by the door. a small pool of blood is on the floor right next to where her mouth is pressed to the floor. he tries to revive her with all the healing spells he knows, says the words through sobs, but none of them work even though his mom always told him he had a knack for healing.

after his mom dies, he ends up back with neil. his father knew all along about his ex wife, knew that she would’ve been teaching billy magic all this time. neil gives billy an amulet, telling him that his mom wanted him to have it if something ever happened to her. little does young billy know that this is an amulet that binds his magical abilities. when he discovers his magic no longer works, he thinks it’s because his mom is gone. that she was his only connection to his powers. so he goes throughout life magic-less.

billy ends up in hawkins when his dad moves him and susan and her little twerp to indiana. and of course he meets steve, ends up getting drawn to him, and then unwittingly into the fight against the upside down.

maybe he somehow loses his amulet during one of these upside down encounters, where it’s only him and steve fighting for their lives against some big baddie. the amulet is literally ripped off his neck by the monster. they manage to escape, but steve is in really bad shape, like on the brink of death. billy is holding steve in his arms as he’s coughing up blood and billy feels something he hasn’t felt in a long while — the energy of something. but it’s steve’s energy draining from his body. he thinks of his mom, how he can’t lose someone again. how he can’t lose steve. he has to do something. he can’t just sit around while steve’s dying. he hopes against hope and begins uttering the strongest healing spell he can remember.

billy holds his breath after he finishes, listening to steve’s heartbeat getting slower and slower. he squeezes his eyes shut, and the tears spill over. he brings steve’s body in closer against his, wishing for anything that he could save him. then suddenly, billy feels energy being restored to steve piece by piece. his heart rate picks up a bit and his breathing is no longer a shallow wheezing. he finally opens his eyes.

“billy,” steve utters, his voice so quiet. he reaches a hand up to touch billy’s wet cheek and billy presses his lips gently into his palm.

#harringrove #witchy!billy #witchy au #happy october yall #had to get in on the spooky action #(tho this isn't that spooky)#but i LOVE witchy!billy #so please feel free to talk to me about this #MMMMMM!!!!#words

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thedeviljudges · 6 years

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based on @weirdlet’s hc for witchy!billy, along with some hcs i came up with. this one is based on the very last bullet point of this post.

Billy’s only gone for a couple of minutes, the thrum of the charm he’d left under the bed a steady pulse within his chest. He feels it rustle between his ribs, an extended part of his magic he’d given to someone else for the first time in, well, ever.

Except Max. Max has one, Billy reminds himself. But this? This is different.

It burns so bright, a gradient of ember and green. Billy doesn’t need to see it to know how well-lit, how well-preserved it’ll stay where he left it, and for good reason. Hawkins is a dangerous place, as it turns out, and not because Billy had blown through town like hell was on his heels.

Sometimes the nights are too long, and Billy can’t always be around, but he can give him this. A safety net, a reminder that nothing will bite in the dark. Billy is a lot of things as much as he isn’t, but being a protector feels good; it finally feels like he’s done something right.

The soft chime of the clock in the foyer and the padding of socked feet hitting the stairs disrupts Billy’s scattered thoughts. He hasn’t said anything about the charm, hadn’t planned on making it known until he was surely ready to admit that underneath all the emotional turmoil, he actually feels things he never thought he would.

Billy waves his hand, catching the handle of the spatula before it clatters to the floor. Admittedly, he doesn’t want to be caught. He’s doing better, trying to be better about the use of his magic, and he doesn’t think that making eggs in the early morning counts as particularly useful.

“One of these days,” a voice slinks through the noisy sizzle of the pan, “you will actually sleep in with me.”

Billy smiles as he lifts the pan, turning it over, scraping the contents onto two plates. It’s the easiest thing to make in the house, quick and simple for someone like him who’d often have to make do. Old habits die hard, it seems, but Steve isn’t complaining when he grabs a fork and his plate and immediately digs in.

“You’re welcome.”

Around a mouthful, Steve grins sheepishly without apology, eyes bright as he shuffles over to the dinner table. He’d told Billy once that it often didn’t have any use, but he liked the idea of it when the kids were over, implementing a pattern for them they knew well enough. Nights when Steve ordered pizza or Chinese, when the house was filled with much more noise than he was used to.

For Billy, a table like that meant cowering behind his plate, but with Steve he understands its significance. He’s hardheaded about a lot of things, but this is one he’d easily fallen into.

It’s why he joins Steve at the table with no complaint, where Billy sits close enough to Steve that their thighs brush with familiarity that only comes from two people spending time together. It’s Steve and him in a big ol’ house on Saturday’s, shooting the shit and filling Steve’s bedroom with the smell of sex and sweat.

Billy takes a bite of his eggs in an attempt to ignore the ever-growing intrusion of anxiety, wishes he’d cooked them a few seconds longer. They’re not bad, but definitely not his best, and he thinks maybe crashing at Steve’s place hadn’t been the pleasant distraction he’d been hoping for.

"Are you even listening?”

It takes a kick to the foot for Billy to startle, brows drawn close. He’s been anxious about that stupid charm, and now Steve’s looking at him funny. “Yeah, I-” But Steve, Steve knows Billy. Knows him better than anyone in this town, and Billy would roll his eyes because he doesn’t do cliche, but Steve sees right through him no matter what.

Shoulders slumping, Billy shrugs. “Yeah, just- there’s been a lot on my mind.”

It’s a non-answer Billy hopes Steve doesn’t push, but he sees the wheels turning behind Steve’s eyes, the flicker of concern he’s never been good at masking. “This isn’t about-”

“No,” Billy shuts that down immediately and with a little too much force. He regrets it instantly, but he doesn’t apologize. His father makes him angry in many irrational ways, but luckily he’d left the house unscathed, could be here with Steve this weekend without the shadow of a monster home-grown. “It’s nothing important.”

“Okay.”

Because it’s that easy. Alway is, and Billy isn’t naive enough to believe it always will be, but he’ll take what he can get. More than thankful over the fact that Steve trusts him enough to open up when he’s ready.

This, though? Billy’s not sure he’s ready for. In fact, his thoughts sway again because it’s just a charm. Just a protective spell meant to keep Steve safe.

There were no qualms making one for Max, not after all the failed attempts learning new moves on her skateboard. Billy grew tired of seeing all the bruises and gravel marks that’d split her skin open wide, scabs that cracked and healed only to be tore open again because Max is still so damn stubborn.

Steve, on the other hand, can handle himself, but it’d made Billy feel better. His magic came so naturally to him, it had no problem dancing in front of his face when he’d whispered Steve’s name in the darkness of his room two nights ago. Billy could’ve sworn it almost laughed at him for being so slow, so stu-

“-it’s a bit unusual. Mother’s never cared for flowers-”

“What?”

Steve sighs, shoving the last bite of eggs into his mouth. He makes the motion to drop the utensil, an exasperated annoyance flittering across the corner of his mouth, but Billy catches the fork with the flick of a finger, settling it back down onto the plate.

Steve only huffs.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Like Billy, Steve’s resolve is easily broken. He licks the front of his teeth, arches a brow, and gives Billy what’s supposed to be a glare but is only another twist of concern. It’s only fair. Billy’s frustrated with himself because it’s not a big deal. None of it’s a big deal, but he thinks and he wonders if maybe he should’ve asked Steve first, if he’d wanted Billy’s magic, if he wanted his help.

Because that’s all he’s trying to do.

“What were you saying about the flowers?”

“There’s like, a dozen-” Steve begins, expression shifting. His nose scrunches as he gently shakes his head, tufts of brown hair falling to the wayside, curling and sticking and poking out from the nest its made from a good night’s sleep. “No,” he corrects himself with a lilt, like a question, “hundreds of them in the yard? It’s- well, it’s weird. It happens a lot.”

Billy’s eyes narrow at first, maybe from disbelief, maybe from the sudden shift in topic: from charms to flowers. And in a grand moment of pause, he says, “What?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” This time the irritation is real, and Billy’s tempted to press his thumb right between Steve’s brows, ease the muscles that give him an offended look, but he doesn’t. Billy’s too caught up in Steve’s story about flowers- and what the fuck is he even talking about?

“Everywhere?” Billy presses, lifts himself out of his seat.

“Hey,” Steve calls out behind him, the echo of his chair as it scrapes against the floor flooding his ears. “Where are you going?”

Billy doesn’t answer. He knows Steve will follow him, and he knows exactly where he’s going. The door leading to the backyard opens easily under his grip, the pool before him the first thing that catches his eye. It shimmers under the early morning light, but just a few yards away, right before the yard extends into giant trees and the extensive stretch of woodland, does not sit grass.

It’s there budding from the dirt, of course, but between each blade, a stem has sprouted. They’ve got little leaves on them and a flower in full bloom, and when Billy looks around, there’s not a space of well-manicured lawn left untouched.

Billy’s not even sure he wants to take a look at the front of the house. It’s got to be ten times worse than this. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

“It happens almost every time you sleep over.”

The tips of Steve’s fingers are cold as they slide over Billy’s waist. His chin fits right into the dip of Billy’s shoulder, front pressed to his back, and despite the sun casting its first rays of heat, the warmth of Steve’s body is much welcomed.

“It’s got something to do with you, doesn’t it?” Steve asks. His grip tightens around Billy for a split second, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.

Thing is, Billy’s never seen this before. He’s seen things like it when he’s alone, the only witness to his frustrations, but never anything of this magnitude. And moreover, he’d never been quite sure whether others would be able to see it either, that his magic that procured most of them, would allow it to happen.

But, as it seems, there’s no other way to explain it. Billy knows what he’s staring at even if he doesn’t want to admit it because it means facing the truth he thought he could avoid.

By now, Steve has wandered over to the other side of the patio, far from the pool but along the meticulously placed step stones that sit in the grass. They act as a guide to the pool, as if guests couldn’t spot the swath of dug up land from several yards away. But that peculiar path is the one Steve lingers on, bending down to caress a flower with the brush of a finger.

They’re not harmful, and Billy only knows this because he can feel the life they breath, imagines the roots wiggling below in pleasure of being seen. Slowly, Billy follows in Steve’s footsteps, the ground below him gritty and rough beneath him. He stops just before the first step, just before he intertwines himself amongst the flowers, toes curling against the edge of the patio.

“I made you a charm,” he says abruptly. The nerves he feels shoot across his limbs, feel like pinpricks against his skin. Billy doesn’t bleed, though, but he feels like his blood is draining with the rush in his ears and the steady pace of his heart picking up speed. “And every time I feel too deeply, it manifests.”

It sounds stupid. It sounds so damn stupid when he says it out loud, and he thinks, briefly, that when Steve looks up at him from his crouched position, that he’s going to laugh. He’ll laugh at Billy for being absurd, for thinking he’d cause hundreds of flowers to sprout out of nowhere in the middle of the night because he’d felt too much.

“Billy Hargrove,” Steve says, the corner of his left eye squinting from the light of the sun, “is this you trying to tell me you love me?”

Billy blinks back, clear surprise on his face.

Does he love Steve? Is that a thing he’s capable of, something he’s allowed?

He’s avoided that question; he knows of his family’s curse, and yet he’s allowed himself this one simple pleasure because instead of laughing at Billy and the weird he brings with him, Steve smiles so softly, so kindly, and Billy doesn’t think he could ever give that up.

He’s not sure it can get any better than this.

It goes quiet around them except for the light breeze. The earth is quiet, too, probably reveling in Billy’s human fumblings, but he’s thankful for the peace. It gives him a moment to catch his breath, to extend his hand out to Steve, pull him forward into his embrace and kiss him as affectionally as he can muster.

There’s a lot about magic Billy doesn’t know yet, but he knows when he feels anger, pinpricks manifest across the seat of his car when he rolls angry down the backroads.

Billy’s also seen the ocean weep when he’s found an alcove close to the lake’s mouth, let tears loose under the guise of wistfulness of a small waterfall.

He’s also seen angry welts across his skin as punishment for his backlash turn into wind-whipped hair, thunder and lightening bracketing the sky under a downpour.

But this is different. This is the first of its kind, and Billy’s not well-versed in the naming of flowers, but he thinks they’re pretty for a reason.

A reason he hadn’t considered until now, presented before him in the most startling of ways. Billy’s always found ways to surprise himself, but he can always count on his magic to one-up him.

“I think-” he starts when he lets Steve’s mouth go, when he flicks his gaze upon red, swollen lips and sparkling brown eyes. “I think it might be a way.”

Later, Steve will tell him that they disappear after awhile. It’ll make sense because Billy’s never seen them before, not when he’s left Steve’s house in the middle of the day on a weekend he doesn’t like to let go of.

But now that he has, and now that he witnesses the blinding smile Steve gives him before pulling him back into the house, he wonders what had scared him, what had made him so damn nervous to begin with.

Billy hates big gestures, and he’d curse himself if he wasn’t already, but he likes this, likes the way Steve shrugs and says, “Yeah, I suppose it’s a good thing I love you, too.”

#harringrove #x #weirdlet #i did it!!!! i finished!!!! lmao #not exactly how i thought it was gonna go but i'm still kinda happy with it?? idk but yay!!!#witchy!billy

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jellyfishloveletterghosts · 3 years

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Murder, Magic, and Monsters

Not specifically Halloween themed but there are a few that definitely hit the mark closer than others. Did I make this rec of my own fics to procrastinate actual writing why yes, yes I did. Hopefully I’ll have more to add to this list in the near future.

- Harringrove -

🔪🔪 Murders🔪🔪

Black in the Moonlight - The mind flyer tired of Billy's obsession decides they have to kill Steve. So they follow him, the flyer changes it's mind when they discover one of Steve's hobbies.

Let Me Mu-Marry You - Flayed Billy gets a pleasant surprise when Steve wanders into their abandoned factory.

Summer of Blood - Billy gets a job as a camp counselor. Between murders with Max, he hooks up with his fellow counselor Steve. For a while everything is good, no bodies are found, its chalked up to people just not cut out for their job. Then bodies start being found, and not all of them are from Max and Billy.

What’s One More? - Small follow up to Summer of Blood.

🎃🎃 Headless Horseman/Witch 🎃🎃

Pumpkin Head - Headless Horseman Billy and his witchy partner having some fun in the pumpkin patch.

🐺🦇Vampire/Werewolf 🐺🦇

Bite - The fight at the Byers doesn't happen but Steve still finds his back against the dirt.

Sink Your Teeth In - Steve is a vampire vulnerable because he only drinks animal blood, Billy his werewolf boyfriend will not stand for it.

Tastes Like Sunshine - Billie has dinner waiting when Stevie gets home. (Fem!Harringrove)

🔥👿Demon👿🔥

Virgin Sacrifice - Steve is chosen to be a virgin sacrifice, despite not being a virgin, when Billy is raised nothing goes according to his captors plans.

🌽🌽 Scarecrow 🌽🌽

Have Some Fun - Steve gets drunk and wanders into Billy's corn maze.

🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️ Vampire 🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️

The Calling - Steve doesn’t make it out of the tunnels alive but Billy makes sure he does make it out.

⚡🧟‍♂️ Reanimated 🧟‍♂️⚡

☠🌻 Demigods 🌻☠

You Will Be Made New Again - Jonathan and Tommy succeed in brining Billy back from the dead, Steve their exasperated neighbor is the only thing that can get him to cooperate. AKA A Frankenstein's monster Billy fic

👻👻 Ghost/Medium 👻👻

You're A Vison - Five times Billy gets off while haunting Steve and one time Billy knows he can be seen.

Death and Flowers - Steve comes seeking a favor of Billy.

🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️ Mermen 🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️

A Bargain - Steve is a lonely merman who seek out the sea witch to help him find love.

🐎🧜🏻‍♂️ Merman/Kelpie 🧜🏻‍♂️🐎

Salt Skin - Friends don’t plan and construct elaborate surprises that take weeks to prepare and involve a contractor, no that’s beyond friend behavior and edging dangerously close to courting behavior. Except Steve had gone and hurtled right over that line and presents Billy with a gift so fantastic he can no longer ignore his feelings.

💐💐 Powers/flayed 💐💐

The Grower and the Shower - Billy is ready to accept his fate when they break the hold the Mind Flyer has on him. Instead of letting him die Steve reveals his own secrets.

🪄🪄 Magic 🪄🪄

Beauty and The Beast - Mr. Harrington takes a rose and instead of paying the price the beast of the castle demands himself, he sends his son in his stead. Billy is not sure what to do with an omega who not only does not cower away from him like everyone else but also seems to think he is a slob and keeps trying his patience.

Everything I do Is To Bring Me Closer To You - Billy has a long way to go before he can make his dream a reality. Or Billy wants Steve and the only way he can see getting to keep him is by becoming king.

Kitchen Witch - Steve has magic, he just doesn't know it. He doesn't believe Dustin no mater how many times he insists that Steve's food is magic, because that is preposterous. Slowly others start to recognize that Steve has magic too, and then Billy comes in accusations of a love potion when Neil gets a hold of some cookies Steve made and starts acting nice.

Mantle of The Black Cat - Things are looking really bad at the junkyard so Steve makes a deal with a talking cat. Aka Magical Catboy Steve💥💥NEW💥💥

Necromancin Dancin - Billy died at Starcout, he doesn't stay that way for long.

Sear Through Me - Billy is an asshole with magic, the upside down latches onto him, and he is an unwilling puppet. When he faces the mind flyer at Starcourt he knows he is going to die. Steve doesn't let him.

You Can’t Kill Love - Chrissy dies and Eddie goes to Steve looking to bring her back.

🐺😈 Wereworl/Succubus 🐺😈

Bidder, Bidder Won't You Take Me Home - Steve is up for auction for a charity event Carol's sorority is hosting, after seeing Billy he wants his bid.

🐺🧚🏻‍♂️ Werewolf/Fairy 🐺🧚🏻‍♂️

Care and Feeding - Billy comes to town and befriends Steve. Billy would like to pursue more than that but he is determined to wait until Steve gets over his recent heartbreak.

The Fairy in the Garden - Billy finds an unexpected visitor in his garden.

🐉🐉Dragon/Luck Rabbit 🐉🐉

🧚🏻‍♂️🧚🏻‍♂️ Fairy 🧚🏻‍♂️🧚🏻‍♂️

Seashells and Books on Tape - When Billy gets to Hawkins he finds his mate, the only problem is Billy can't get his mouth to work right around him so he has to find other ways to make his intentions known.

How to Catch a Boyfriend - Billy wanders into the forest and meets a fairy. He's sure Steve and the fairy are one in the same and all he wants to do is keep them.

Build-A-Man - Mrs. Harrington buys Steve an android to take care of him, he doesn't particularly like it but Billy isn't going anywhere.

🤖🤖 Android 🤖🤖

🦶🦶 Bigfoot 🦶🦶

Bigfoot Au - not a actual fic but still fun. Steve goes out into the world looking for bigfoot. When he finally finds him he isn’t the monster Steve was expecting.

#harringrove #Jellyghostfic #fanfiction #st fic #Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington #Harringrove rec list

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cryptic-stimz · 3 years

Text

welcome to my stimboard kin blog !!

about the mod:

hey, i'm mod raven! my pronouns are he/him, i'm 16 and i'm biromantic, asexual and transgender. i have depression, social anxiety, generalized anxiety, paranoia, add and insomnia, so i'm really sorry if i'm not always super active-

my favorite stims are crystals, dice, knives, soap cutting, pokemon cards and slime stims !!

you can find more bellow the cut~

rules:

-please be patient

-i have the right to deny any request

-read everything before requesting, please!

-do not repost/claim my stimboards as yours

-please only send one request per ask. feel free, however, to send as many individual requests as you want/need, just don't spam/send the same request over and over again!

-don't send any requests if they're closed! /gen /nm

-respect my blacklist and dni, please

-i won't do outside sources, sorry!

before you request:

-please tell me the colours/theme and which stims you would like me to include.

-if there are any things you specifically don't want to be included (for example hands, knives, etc.), please tell me so as well.

sources i'll do:

-danganronpa

-death note

-fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood

-ghost eyes

-hooky

-i'm the grim reaper

-it (2017)

-lalin's curse

-lumine (webtoon)

-my hero academia

-omori

-otherkin/therian

-pjo, hoo, toa (rick riordan's book series)

-pokémon

-she-ra

-stranger things

-studio ghibli

-the promised neverland

-tokyo ghoul

-vocaloid

-voltron: legendary defender

dni if you are/support:

-anti lgbtq+/exclusionists

-anti neopronouns

-map/nom*p (a)/pear/p*do (e)/etc

-factkin

-anti-kin

-t*rf (e)/r*dfem (a)/sw*rf (e)

-ab*se (u), inc*st (e), ped*phillia (o), etc

-r*cist (a)

-s*xist (e)

-transm*d (e)/tr*sc*m (u, u)

-super straight/super gay/etc

-trump supporter

-pro-shipper/anti-anti

-yandere

-chihiro fujisaki gender discourse (i'll be using they/them!)

-discourse in general

-kink/nsfw main blog

-cg/l, cg/lre

-any other basic dni criteria i might've missed

(i'm censoring some of the words so they don't show up in tags or something-))

whitelist:

~danganronpa: (characters) kokichi ouma, korekiyo shinguji, maki harukawa, rantaro amami, shuichi saihara, nagito komaeda, chihiro fujisaki (ships) saiouma

~death note: (characters) l lawliet, light yagami, mello, near (ships) lawlight, meronia

~fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood: (characters) edward elric, alphonse elric, ling yao, lan fan, mei chang, envy (ships) edling, almei, lan fan x winry

~ghost eyes: (characters) tobias schneien, mattias schneien, emilio murkmere, rudolph richardson, francis delacruz, dwayne londi, luther schneien, simon louis (ships) tobias x emilio, rudy x carmelo, dwayne x francis

~hooky: (characters) damien wytte, dorian wytte, dani wytte, william, monica, nico, mark, carlo (ships) damien x william, dani x nico, dorian x monica

~i'm the grim reaper: (characters) brook, scarlet, chase

~it (2017): (characters) richie tozier, eddie kaspbrak, beverly marsh, georgie denbrough (ships) reddie

~lalin's curse: (characters) david, felix, cody, (ships) david x cody

~lumine: (characters) kody, lumine, calla (ships) kody x lumine

~my hero academia: (characters) tsuyu asui, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima, kyoka jirou, shoto todoroki, izuku midoriya, tamaki amajiki, hitoshi shinso, eraser head, hawks, tomura shigaraki, dabi, eri, kota izumi (ships) tododeku, kiribaku, erasermic, kamishin, tsuchako

~omori: (characters) sunny/omori, basil, mari, hero, kel, aubrey (ships) sunnflower (basil x sunny), picnic basket (hero x mari), baseball bat (kel x aubrey)

~pjo, hoo, toa: (characters) percy jackson, nico di angelo, will solace, hazel levesque, leo valdez, meg mccaffrey, grover underwood, thalia grace (ships) solangelo, percabeth, frazel, caleo, theyna

~pokémon: (characters) ash ketchum, gladion, lillie, drew, max, hau, allister, mallow, lana, pikachu (ships) ash x gladion

~she-ra: (characters) double trouble, catra, adora, glimmer, bow, lonnie, kyle (ships) catradora, glimbow, repkylonnie (kyle x lonnie x rogelio)

~stranger things: (characters) eleven, max mayfield, mike wheeler, will byers, dustin henderson, kali prasad, robin buckley, steve harrington (ships) byler, harringrove, elmax, mileven

~studio ghibli: haku, chihiro ogino, satsuki kusakabe, mei kusakabe

~the promised neverland: (characters) norman, ray, emma, gillian, lucas, mister/yuugo (ships) norray, yuucas, gildemma

~tokyo ghoul: (characters) ken kaneki, ayato kirishima, touka kirishima, hide nagachika, juuzou suzuya, hinami fueguchi, uta, kuki urie (ships) ayakane, touken, mutsurie, uta x yomo

aesthetics:

-adventurecore

-arcadecore

-cottagecore

-cryptidcore

-fairycore

-gremlincore (don't use the term g*bl*ncore (o, i) on my blog, please, as that term is considered ant*sem*t*c (i, i, i))

-kidcore

-lovecore

-starcore

-witchcore/witchy aesthetic

blacklist:

~danganronpa: (characters) korekiyo shinguji's sister, haiji towa, hifumi yamada, teruteru hanamura (ships) kokichi ouma x girls, nagito komaeda x girls, tenko chabashira x boys, saimatsu, oumeno

~death note: yagamane

~fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood: (characters) father (ships) edroy

~ghost eyes: lucas schneien, mr. edburt, bennet issac

~hooky: (characters) hans wytte, angela wytte, hilde wytte, will's father (ships) mark x dani

~it (2017): pennywise, oscar bowers, alvin marsh

~my hero academia: (characters) minoru mineta, endeavor, overhaul, all for one (ships) bakudeku, kacchako, kirimina, todomomo, kamijirou, izuocha, eijirou kirishima x girls, shota aizawa x women, shota aizawa x ms. joke, eri x anyone

~omori: something

~pjo, hoo, toa: (characters) octavian, nero (ships) lukabeth, perachel, perlypso, romantic meg x apollo

~stranger things: (characters) martin brenner, lonnie byers (ships) stancy, will byers x girls, robin buckley x boys

aesthetics:

-yanderecore

-traumacore

-medicalcore

-religion-based aesthetics (witchy aesthetic is okay, so are holiday-based ones like christmas or halloween {i'll only do holidays when it's close to the date they're happening, though - like,, i won't do samhain at easter, you know?}, but christcore isn't)

other: spiders, blood, corpses

★ ★ ★

may i have a promo, please? thank you!

@electro-kins @primrose-rondo @catte-kins @teabookedits @fairyhimiko @tricky-kins @twisted-lies @lou-edits @cassahina @scftkitti @kinafe @allys-edit-cafe @kin-of-the-sheep @the-local-manga-library + anyone else

feel free to ignore and/or if you don't wanna be tagged, tell me and i'll untag you !!

#introduction #intro post #not a stimboard #kin blog

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