#harringrovemicrofic

[racketti]

A little something for @harringrovemicroficandart

when I read "fingers" this was the first thing that came to my mind... billy's just showing steve his oral fixation

[katyawriteswhump]

eternal summer

For  @harringrovesummerbingo

Title: Eternal Summer  Square and prompt: C2 “Is your dream more important than me?” Rating: M WC: 570. Major tags: Harringrove, angst, non-explicit smut, Incubus!Billy, age gap, no upside down au, dark-ish ending which is also a happy ever after, slightly soft harringrove.

and @harringrovemicroficandart 4 prompts, fingers/slipping through my fingers by ABBA, mention of Jim Hopper. WC: 570.

Summary: Billy's nature enslaved him into killing pretty things. Then Steve happened.

...

“What are you thinking about?” asked Steve, rolling over on the pillows beside Billy.

Billy couldn’t look Steve in the eye. “Just some dream.” 

“You look pretty pissed about it.”

Billy sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed. “It made me think. Listen, I’ve gotta—"

“Is your dream more important than me?” Steve’s voice cracked. “Last night you said… Look, if you were shitting me… C’mon, be honest!” 

“Jesus, you’re needy! Yeah! I meant it. I love you.” Billy scrubbed his face wearily. “Got lost in dreams about you.”

“Oh. Why the sad-face… Crap!”

Billy jumped Steve, pinning him on his back, wrists secured either side of his head. Steve giggled, and Billy melted. God, Billy was two millennia old! The heat must’ve gone to his head to make him feel like a real dumb teen.

“What happened in that dream?” 

I made you mine forever. “You accuse me of talking too much?”

Billy silenced Steve with a searing kiss, enjoying Steve’s struggles, as he moaned, desperate, into Billy’s throat. He knew it confused Steve—how Billy was always stronger. When Billy pinned him, he could never fight free.

The kiss grew rough, bruising. Billy sensed the delicious tingle of Steve’s lifeforce ebbing from him. Tears pressed in Billy’s eyes:

I figured you were a bully. I meant to fuck you all summer, then disappear, leaving Hopper scratching his head over a dead teen, like a hundred lawmen before. Then I watched you ditch your friends to look after a bunch of nerdy kids. You begged for love, and I got weak. Now I dream of keeping you always as you are right now—a freeze-frame saved from the crazy tricks of time.

“Fuck me,” gasped Steve, interlacing his fingers with Billy’s, clinging.

“Gotta go.” I stay, you’re gonna get sick and die, or else I’m gonna have to… 

Steve pouted. Christ, he was such a kid! Billy unthreaded their fingers, letting Steve’s hand drop like a stone.

Later, Billy loaded up the Camaro. A BMW tore up and Steve jumped out: “You weren’t even gonna say goodbye?”

I should’ve hauled ass quicker.

“YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME!” Steve grabbed Billy’s collar, got right in his face. 

Billy shoved him away: “Dumbest mistake I ever made.”

In a flash of golden light, Billy revealed his true demon form. Steve staggered back, covering his face then peeping between his fingers:

“Holy shit! Are you an angel?” 

Billy reinstated his glamor, wondering what Steve had seen. Poor pretty fool must genuinely love him back. Only love played crazier tricks than time. 

Laughing, Billy took his trembling prey in his arms: “I’m a demon, Steve. An Incubus. If I stay, I’ll slowly suck”—literally fuck —”your life from you.”

“Wha—” Steve took a beat, frowned: “Is that like a vampire? You could turn me too, right?”

“Doesn’t work quite like that. I could make you my thrall.”

“Wha… I don’t know what that is.”

That night, Billy spread Steve out on the bed beneath him. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice was tight. “You’re gonna fuck me all night, and then… Jesus, will it hurt?”

“No.” Billy trailed his fingers down the curve Steve’s throat, over his quivering lifeblood. Then spiralling down his spine, lower, deeper, relishing Steve’s throaty growls, the little trembles beneath his skin.

No slipping from my grasp now.

For the first time ever, Billy was gonna actually make love.

[runraerun]

Re-Birth

AO3 | Ship: MetalSandwich | Rating: T | 1k | Tags/Warnings: Blood drinking, Alt Universe: Vampires, Character Death but not really.

Summary:

Eddie and Billy sit by Steve’s grave and lament over his tragic passing.

** Written for both the @metalsandwichbingo & the @harringrovemicroficandart challenge, since both of the prompts were: Birthday 🎂 &Both the min and max word count for each was 1k, so this is me threading the needle. 🪡😄

[lorifragolina]

You don't want a lot but you deserve it

This is my first contribution for @harringrovemicrofic. I was so excited! Then life happened. I changed job last month and I don't have the time of breath, so I am having a little lack of inspiration... But I tried to do two fics for the challenge. Maybe when I will be more inspired I'll write a better one!

Prompt: Birthday Additional prompt: Max Word count: 403 No tw

Also in Ao3

The thing was, Harrington was a schemer and a liar

He said “I don’t want anything, just a quiet dinner and cuddle on the sofa with you”. Billy believed him, so he made homemade sloppy Joes and bought just a graphic novel - Steve had always bought himself whatever he wanted or needed, and Billy had a hard time finding a little surprise. 

But when it was Billy’s turn, he said the same, but Steve literally showered Billy in surprises and presents. He finally got his granpa’s money and they in general had good jobs, so he didn’t mind the expenses.

When Billy turned 20, he faked he just forgot the date, and surprised Billy in his job’s parking lot with a bouquet of 20 red roses and a enormous box, that Billy literally destroyed in front of his delighted coworkers, finding a really expensive vintage leather jacket he desired since they saw it in the shop.

So for next Steve’s birthday Billy invited him to his favorite fancy restaurant for a surprise dinner, and bought a hi-fi that Steve really appreciated, and he thought they just settled down to simple, quiet birthdays. 

But when Billy turned 25, Steve brang Max and the kids to California for spring break, and Billy really screamed of joy when Max suddenly appeared singing happy birthday. Well, he wasn’t so happy seeing Sinclair and Henderson, but Jane and Will were quite ok. Then all together ran to the garage where Billy found his flaming new motorcycle and two helmets.

When Billy turned 28, Steve booked a trip to Thailand, another of their wildest dreams, and Billy spent almost all the time racking his brain on how to return the surprise.

He found a vintage Fender for Steve’s 30th birthday but it wasn’t the right kind of surprise; finally, the next year, he had the perfect idea, he rented a ranch in the mountain, Steve always talked about living in the interior in the woods. The house would be free just in time for Steve’s birthday so Billy was completely sure that Steve couldn’t beat it. 

That year, for Billy’s 30 birthday Steve just cooked a homemade dinner, put the table on the terrace with the ocean view with two simple candles. 

When he brang just a little box with the cake, Billy felt triumphant, for once.

Then Steve took the little box and knelt in front of him.

[whataboutthefish]

Dream Baby

Written for the @harringrovemicrofic challenge 3

The prompt is Green and the word count goal is 914

Rating - General audiences Pairing Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Tags - Pregnancy, Surrogate, Steve cries a lot, Max is the best sister, Fluff Word count - 914 Link to Ao3 here

What had started as a drunken comment one Sunday afternoon at their monthly BBQ had turned into something far more serious. Sure Steve had cried when he finally let it all out, how much he wanted a child, how overwhelming the options were. The idea of finding a surrogate was so hard and so many factors had to be considered. 

Would the mother be healthy? Could they share the pregnancy with them, be there for some of the firsts? It all led to a very emotional and somewhat drunk Steve, and Billy doing all he could to console his husband. 

None of them had noticed the way Max’s brow furrowed and the look she gave Lucas as Steve took another beer which Billy swiftly removed from his hand and passed surreptitiously behind his back to Robin.

The day Max came to them with her plan Steve and Billy both cried. She’d worked it all out in a way that wasn’t pushy but certainly made Steve’s heart swell with joy and a look of pride come over Billy’s face even when he pulled her into a noogie until she was swearing and landing some pretty hard elbows to Billy’s gut.

The plan was simple, since she was Billy’s sister they were going to use Steve’s sperm so the baby would look like both of them. When Billy pointed out that they weren’t even related like that everyone in the room turned and gave him the stink eye. Steve even got his ‘I mean business’ hands on his hips. 

It turned out to be fairly simple from there on. Steve had been keeping a log of her cycle, which Max grumbled at him for because, “Steve, it’s just weird alright. You shouldn't know more about all that stuff than me.” But it was worthwhile when Max got pregnant on their first try

However the bickering was part of what made Max, Max and Steve wouldn’t have her any other way. When he talked to Lucas he was informed it had only made her more scary to live with and he thanked Steve. Damn man loved Max’s sass as much as they did, possibly more. 

Steve and Billy watched as their child grew inside of Max. Steve couldn’t keep his hands off the bump and bawled his eyes out when he felt their sweet one kick. They became insufferable in the late stages of the pregnancy. But Max rolled with it, taking advantage of the two men that would bend over backwards for her. And besides, Billy gave a mean foot massage. 

Max went into labor at 3am on a Tuesday morning. She was staying with Steve and Billy so they heard her swear like a sailor. Billy rushed to her side while Steve grabbed their go bag and ran to the car. It was Max that had to remind them that the contractions weren't close enough to go to the hospital yet.

When the time came Steve had to lay a gentle hand on Billy’s knee to stop him from speeding. By the time they were in the birthing suite they started to really annoy the crap out of Max. 

"I might be about to push a melon out my vag for you, but I am not an invalid. I can get my own ice chips, Billy."

Steve learned the hard way not to touch her just yet. The midwife explained that she would need them closer to delivery, but right now would be a good time to keep your distance. She smiled in a way that spoke of how many times she’d seen this.

The labor was long and hard. The nurse was right, by the end Max was clasping Billy's hand so hard he was gritting his teeth, while Steve rubbed circles over her back and felt entirely useless. Steve was guided to watch as the baby’s head emerged and for a startling minute Steve thought the midwife was going to pull it off, before the shoulders came through. 

It was all a rush after that.

"It's a girl." The midwife announced.

Steve could barely see for all the tears in his eyes, he reached out to grab Billy's hand as the midwife held the umbilical cord up and offered Billy the scissors to cut. Then the baby was passed into Max’s arms. Her hair was sweat soaked to her skin and she looked like she’d run two marathons but her smile was so wide it split her face.

Billy and Steve stood each side of Max as they hugged each other tight, laughing and crying at the rush of emotion.

Once the baby had been weighed and all the checks were done she was brought back to them. Billy took their little girl in his arms first, his shirt removed as he basked in the skin to skin contact. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world." Billy cooed.

Steve was going to cry again. Watching his husband with their baby was overwhelming and his heart couldn't get fuller.

The baby had a shock of red hair, her daddy's nose and Steve's lips. the perfect little mix of them all. When she opened her eyes they were a startling green.

“She looks just like you, shit bird.” Billy teased.

Steve nudged Billy in the side, taking their daughter into his arms, holding her against his bare chest. "I think Birdie works better," he said, turning her to face the others.

"After Aunty Max."

[ihni]

Fist-fights and kisses

For @harringrovemicrofic, the February prompt: "Explode" (772 words) (Also side note, but do you realize how difficult it is to write a RHYME that ends up in an exact amount of words???)

Anyway.

~~~

Press down on the pedal; go harder, go faster Away from a slip-up, towards a disaster So what if he ends up all wrapped ‘round a tree? And dies in this shit-hole, so far from the sea?

He flies down the dark road, he’s rocketing, soaring He speeds up until the car’s engine is roaring He takes a turn sharply, he’s almost off-road He grits his teeth harshly; about to explode

Drive on in the darkness, don’t stop and don’t linger Ain’t no one got Billy wrapped tight ‘round their finger He cannot be tied-down, he cannot be tamed (A lie, he admits; he is leashed and ashamed)

He cannot show weakness – he’s always the strongest (At least he’s pretended to be, for the longest) He’s wild (he’s controlled) and he’s fearless (he’s scared) He’s charming and smiling (a mask with teeth bared)

This town is a prison, the move retribution Billy’s the problem to Hawkins’ solution His dad brought him here so he would be set straight So far it’s not working; he’ll die at this rate

If Billy dares speak up, Neil calls him a faggot And tells him he’s useless; worth less than a maggot If late, he gets punished; gets bruises and welts If loud, he gets beaten; with fists and with belts

His father once burned him with a lit cigarette And that wasn’t nearly the worst he would get If Neil finds out what his own son did tonight? It’s over for Billy; goodbye and goodnight

~~~

Steve is confused and his bruised cheek is stinging His eyes; wide and staring, his ears; red and ringing Yet all of that now takes a backseat to this: The memory of Billy’s lips against his

A kiss, Steve is certain, which does not make sense Perhaps it was just some bizarre self-defense? They had been fighting and Steve was not losing (Which was, on its own, a little confusing)

They fought and they pushed and they punched and they battled Both of them eager but none of them rattled Just two boys fighting; a scuffle, a brawl Which ended when Billy was thrown to the wall

It wasn’t the usual way their fights ended And probably not what Steve’s rival intended; His back to the wall, with Steve’s arm against his throat Steve opened his mouth – to taunt, perhaps to gloat?

And that was when Billy reversed their positions He re-wrote the rules and he changed the conditions He held on and grimaced and then, with a hiss He leaned in and Steve’s lips met his in a kiss

Steve froze where he stood, ‘cause he did not expect it There wasn’t a reason for him to suspect it Why was he– What was he trying to prove? Steve did not kiss back, he was too shocked to move

He felt as if he was the cure to starvation As Billy kept kissing with raw desperation Steve let out the first sound since all this began And Billy? He drew back, eyes wide – and then ran

~~~

His life here is over, a moment of weakness Was all that it took, now the future is bleakness He shouldn’t have done it, he was such a fool Come Monday, oh Steve will have told the whole school

They will all believe him, ‘cause no one likes Billy He’s popular, sure, but he’s got no friends really A day, at the most, and then Neil will find out The subsequent ‘talk’ will be painful, no doubt

If Billy survives it, he’s grounded forever He won’t have a life after this whatsoever Bullied and carless and locked in his room Hurting and aching, it’s safe to presume

If Neil does not kill him, the people in town might They hate his kind here, it will be a town highlight He’s all out of options, he’s on his last leg He will have to go back to Steve’s house and beg

Forgiveness and mercy, he hopes he can get it That impulse to lean in – oh how he’ll regret it If he could have just tampered down on his need If he could have not given in to his greed

He drives back to Steve’s place, his heart beating madly No crash on the way there, he makes it safe (sadly) He swallows and walks up to Harrington’s door Prepared to kneel right there on Harrington’s floor

The red door swings open before he can knock He starts to say “Sorry–“, then shuts up in shock Because that’s Steve’s hand on the back of his head And this time it’s Steve kissing Billy instead

~~~

(On AO3)

[harringrovemicroficandart]

Harringrove 3 challenge 15 April - 15 May

The prompt for the next Harringrove Microfic Challenge is

Green Word count: 914

Optional suggestions Song: Green tinted sixties mind by Mr. Big Character: Jason Carver

Ao3 collection

Remember that now we are opened to art too!

Let's be creative and imagine whatever you want for our baby boys. It's the color of the letterman jacket? Or the plants they have in their first apartment? Someone is green with envy? Is really not so easy being green? Be wild and make me proud! Remember to tag @harringrovemicrofic and use the tag #harringrovemicrofic and #harringrovemicrofic3!

[chickensoupleg]

Prompt for @harringrovemicrofic Green Month! 914 words of something that has been on my mind ever since I saw the prompt.

No warnings. Sweet Potato is back though.

--

“So, should I ask?”

Steve’s shoulders jump, turning around with an expression he thinks is supposed to be the epitome of innocence.

Billy doesn’t believe it for even a second.

“Hey Billy, you’re uh.” Steve sniffs, looking away from Billy. “You’re home early.”

Billy hums, nodding slowly as his gaze stares at the green jacket in Steve’s hand. The name emblazoned on the side read ‘Jason’.

As did the seven other identical green jackets all folded up neatly around Steve’s feet.

Unless Billy has been blind for the past year, the brunet in front of him is clearly not Jason.

Steve turns the jacket around with a reddening face.

“I can explain.”

“Uh huh.” Billy walks over, taking the jacket from Steve’s hands and flipping it back over. “So you’re the one stealing Jason’s jackets?”

“He has a lot of the exact same jacket, did you know that? Like, why does he have eight letterman jackets.”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” Billy folds the sleeves in, easily folding the jacket and tossing it down to join its brethren. “Also, you’re avoiding the question.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are. Why are you stealing his jackets. They’re not even that comfy.” Billy would know. He’s felt letterman jackets before, when he was still back in California and stole some senior’s jacket just for the fun of it. It was worn in, sure, and huge on his then freshman body, but it wasn’t something Billy would have willingly worn.

Steve does a long, slow blink.

Billy copies him, even slower.

“So.”

“So?”

Steve inhales, then starts speaking. “I was thinking we’d hide them all over school. Just put them in really weird places that Jason would go to and freak him out.”

“You know he’s been all preachy about how stealing is bad. And here you are, with the stolen things. The graduate.” Billy lets out a whistle. “Who would’ve guessed it was the Steve all along.”

“Not Jason?”

“Oh, he’s been on Eddie’s rear end the entire past week. Eddie has been baiting him after public attempt number.. Three?” Billy shrugs, snickering softly. “His current excuse is he’s using it to fix up his throne on Mount Vesuvius.”

Steve squints. “Is that a fantasy thing?”

“The Pompeii volcano, pretty boy.” Billy pats his shoulder gently. “That Vesuvius.”

Steve nods slowly. “Ahh… Got it.”

Billy walks around the jackets, stepping over Sweet Potato lounging on the ground to get to the kitchen. Steve follows him in, Billy grabbing a can of beer and cracking it open.

Sweet Potato comes happily rolling in at the sound, jumping up onto the counter.

“No Potato, not yours.”

Sweet Potato plaintively meows at him. His little paw taps at his arm, Billy giving him a kiss with the bottom of the can.

“So run the plan by me, princess.”

Steve grins, and starts rambling on, his feet taking him with as he paced around the kitchen. Billy sips at his beer in the meanwhile, watching without much remorse or discretion at the movement of Steve’s hips.

He only looks up when Steve snaps his fingers, grinning behind the can.

“Are you even listening?��

“Bright and open, cocoa bean.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “So as I was saying, we sneak in there in the morning to set everything up, get everything in place and leave. When Jason gets there he’ll see the first one just in front of his locker, I have a spare mannequin that we can dress up as him. Then we scatter others in the gym, put one in Science class, the bathroom, common Jason places?”

Billy hums. “Sounds perfect. Anything else?”

“Well I was also thinking we just fill his pockets with beans but maybe that’s too much.”

Billy snorts loud and ugly, putting down his can. Sweet Potato paws at it, Billy scooping up the orange cat and letting Sweet Potato cling to his arm as he squished his little cheeks. “No absolutely fill his pocket with beans. I want to watch him get bean’d.”

Steve grins, already heading to the cabinet to grab a bag. Billy leans down to toss Sweet Potato back on the ground, grabbing his can before the cat could jump up and try to get a sip of the forbidden liquid.

He follows Steve back into the living space as he sets the bag of dried beans down on the ground, opening the jacket pockets and shoving handful of beans in.

“He’s gonna be so surprised,” Steve says, amusement in his voice.

“I bet.”

Sweet Potato comes trotting in, sniffing at the open bag of beans. Steve takes a handful and sprinkles it on top of him, Sweet Potato going into hunting mode and batting at the fallen beans.

Steve and Billy both watch in amusement as Sweet Potato plays with the beans for a good couple of minutes.

Once all the jackets were full, Steve stacks them up and sets them on the couch for the next day.

“We can put them in my car. Makes the job easier.” Billy tilts his head towards the front door, Steve grabbing the stack once more and following Billy outside.

Billy unlocks the Camaro, pulling the passenger seat forward for Steve to put the jackets down. A bean falls out from one of the pockets, Billy taking it and shoving it back in.

“There we go, all ready for tomorrow! You think a mannequin could fit in here too?”

“Don’t push it.”

[medusapelagia]

Harringrove Events - May Update

Harringrove microfic ( @harringrovemicrofic) Every month we are going to have a prompt with a strict word count, this time the prompt is: Green - Word count: 914 Event info

Harringrove Summer Bingo ( @harringrovesummerbingo) The sign ups open on the 1 April and close on 19 May Summer bingo takes place 1 Jun - 31 Aug, 2024 Event info

Harringrove Flip Reverse ( @harringrove-flip-reverse-it) Are you the kind of person who always wants to do the contrary? This event is designed for you! From the 1st of July to the 7th you’ll be given five prompts and for each prompt you decide to fill, you’ll be expected to Flip Reverse It! Which means write the exact contrary! How does this sound? Event info

As always feel free to reblog and add other events!

Under the cut past events

Harringrove Relay Race @harringrove-relay-race is over but our incredible creators gave us 48hours of content Here is the AO3 Collection but check their Tumblr page as well!

[camaro-and-smokes]

Something memorable

Wrote something short for @harringrovemicrofic 💜 March prompt: "Billy's birthday" (wordcount: 403)

Also on AO3 >>

Something was burning. Definitely. The realization tore Billy from his sleep and into the real world, fully alert. He jumped up from the bed just before a fire alarm started wailing somewhere.

He looked around the room but there was no smoke there nor coming in from the open door, so he ran to the staircase. Down there, thick and black smoke was wafting from the kitchen. Another alarm started screaming in the hall just as he ran down.

“Steve, where the fuck are you?” Billy shouted.

“Here,” came from somewhere among the smoke, followed by a long series of coughs.

Billy surged into the smoke, keeping his t-shirt over his mouth and nose and heading straight towards the patio doors.

“Don't open the doors!” Steve wheezed, then coughed again. “We need to get the fire under control first!”

“What's burning?”

“Your cake.”

“My cake? In the oven? Why didn't you take it out?”

“Because it's burning.”

Fuck this shit, Billy thought, walked out of the kitchen and to the phone in the hall, dialing 911. “That dumbass,” he said, just before the call connected.

When the fire brigade was on its way, Billy was allowed to leave the call to save his dumb boyfriend—because the idiot still hadn't come out. He was probably panicking, like he so often did nowadays when something unexpected happened, and still trying to pry the fucking burning oven door open. He ran into the kitchen, into even more smoke, grabbed a hold of Steve's arm and started pulling him after him.

“The cake is still burning!” Steve croaked and coughed, almost stumbling over his feet.

Billy kept pulling Steve further from the smoke and towards the front door. “Let the cake burn! I don't care if this whole fucking mansion burns down, not letting you burn with it.”

They got out of the front door, followed by the smoke. Billy sat them in the end of the driveway. Only then he realized that he, too, was coughing.

“I feel dizzy,” Steve croaked and leaned on Billy.

“Okay, c'mon, just stay with me, babe,” Billy said, curling his arm around Steve and hugging him sideways. “The fire brigade is coming.”

“I burned your cake,” Steve said miserably.

“It doesn't matter.”

“I wanted to make your 19th birthday memorable.”

Billy snorted. “Steve, babe—you sure as hell made this birthday memorable. I couldn't forget this even if I wanted to.”

[catharrington]

@harringrovemicrofic

Steve’s face has healed, mostly. Just as Billy’s own face has healed, mostly. He’s still ever the werewolf he felt like that night. The grotesque, ravenous teeth he bared still reflect back in the mirror. Under the tan, the blue eyes, the smile he’s practiced so well… waits the wolf Billy Hargrove is.

But Steve, his face has healed human. His hair is growing longer and his smile comes easier.

Around them the deep Indiana snow has melted out to a brilliant green spring. Steve seems to be thawing out with it. Billy cannot wait to see what gold summer is going to bring into Steve’s cream colored skin.

For Billy, he’s trying to bloom. He’s taking long drives down the backwoods winding roads, driving fast but not fast enough to miss the way wildflowers bloom right on top of last year's rot.

He wants more than anything to let go of his monster, of his rot, but it’s harder than it looks.

Anytime Billy makes an effort it feels unfamiliar to him in a way he can’t stand. In California he was effortlessly golden in summer. It’s just moving, dammit, it shouldn’t have changed him as much as it did!

But it did.

“Hey, Harrington.” He’ll force the words out anytime he passes Steve. He smiles with it, but he’s got a mouth full of fangs.

Steve smiles back at him, a line of sunlight between bare branches that’s magic enough to let the flowers grow.

Billy does the same to every kid who was in that house that night. All the kids he scared and hurt, all the kids who saw the yellow of his eyes. He nods at them in a way that he hopes makes them feel included, that his beast will protect them instead of harm them anymore. That he’s a dog with a collar, for fucks sake.

He doesn’t know if it’s working. His stepsister, Max, hasn’t treated him any differently. The kids… Steve… hasn’t treated him any differently.

It’s his birthday, and there’s flowers growing outside next to the chain link fence of the football field. Billy’s sitting inside listening to his teacher but watching the flowers. The leaves and stems seem so dark green here in the Midwest, Billy thinks the ones back home were lighter. Or maybe not.

The bell rings and he ditches lunch for a smoke break. Slinking under the bleachers to be alone.

“Hey, Hargrove.” The voice is melodic as it interrupts him. Perfect, and horrifying.

Steve stands there, holding out a half crumpled pack of cigarettes that’s colored gold. Billy’s hand shakes as he lifts it to accept one, grinning cruelty as he pulls two and places the second one behind his ear.

Steve clicks his tongue at him for doing it, but still lets him. “Sure, one for later.”

“It’s my birthday, after all,” the words pour out with the smoke after his first puff, he can’t stop them, “so thanks, pretty boy.”

“Fuck, really?” Steve asks. His voice pitching up in a cute way.

Billy pulls another drag, exhaling smoke from his nose as he only grunts in reply.

“Here, you should be the one to take this, then,” Steve’s hand slips the pack back into his pocket and fishes for something. “Since it’s your birthday.”

He holds out a skimpy looking white flower, with short and cute petals only a little roushed. It’s got dark green leaves on a dark brown stem only about as long as a palm. And Steve’s hand looks huge as he offers it to Billy.

“It’s called a salt and pepper, or a harbinger of spring. I’ve been told.” He laughs as he searches over the tiny thing. “El— oh, well, one of the kids gave it to me. But I think she’d be okay with you having it.”

Billy takes it slowly. Worse than how he took the smokes. Shaking and nervous, his fingers bump into Steve’s as he picks the flower. He pulls it close and it smells like rich-boy cologne, it smells like hair spray, it feels like heaven.

He blows more smoke out his nose.

“Do ya wanna skip the rest of the day with me?” He asks the flower. The harbinger of spring, Steve had called it. Billy’s got to remember how his mother pressed flowers so he can keep this for his whole life.

“Hell yes,” Steve answers. And Billy’s smile doesn’t feel forced.

[alltimefanfiction]

🎊 Welcome to the first monthly All Time Low Microfic Challenge! 🎊

March prompt: winner, 612 words [any pairing]

How do I participate?

On the 1st of each month, we will post a prompt word and a word limit. Both the prompts and the word limits will be randomly generated (with the word limit being between 300-900 words).

You have until the end of the month to fill the prompt; write whatever the word prompt inspired you to write, but you must hit the word count exactly. That's the fun of the challenge!

Post your story on whatever platform you feel most comfortable (although we do recommend using AO3), and submit the link to us as you would with any other fic you post. Make it clear in the summary that the fic is for the All Time Low Microfic Challenge (insert whatever month it's for here).

If you are posting to AO3, please add it to the collection on AO3!

This page of the blog will hold this information too.

We also heavily encourage you as a participant or as just a reader to try and read the other works submitted to the challenge if you have time. Leave a comment and kudos, reblog the post on here to place that work in front of new eyes; we are a small but lovely community and we should try to uplift each other's work. <3

How will you check the word count?

Please use wordcounter.net to check your word count is exactly as listed on the challenge. Different platforms such as Word, AO3, etc may show up the word count differently. As long as it matches on wordcounter.net, you're golden.

We will let you know if your story hasn't hit the word count so you have a chance to amend and re-submit.

What kind of genres, pairings, settings, etc am I allowed to write about?

Absolutely anything, as long as it's to do with All Time Low! You can do an AU, fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort... whatever you manage to pack into the word count is allowed, just always remember to use appropriate tags and ratings.

As for pairings, you have complete free rein to do slash, non-slash, platonic, romantic, or no pairing at all if you'd rather revolve it around only one of them. The fics can be about the band members, but also crew, both past and present! It can feature other people if you'd like to pair them with someone from another band, an actor, etc. As long as someone involved with All Time Low is the main focus, it counts.

However, please note that some months will have a mandatory pairing challenge alongside the prompt. For example, we may make a non-slash only month, or only allow pairings involving a crew member, etc. This will be noted alongside the prompt and word count for the month if so.

What inspired you to do this?

Giving credit where credit is due—Eve was inspired to start this challenge to bolster the number of fics in the fandom after enjoying participating in similar challenges in the Stranger Things fandom. Namely @steddiemicrofic and @harringrovemicrofic! 💖 If you're into Stranger Things and would like to write for the fandom/those pairings, please consider joining in their monthly challenges too.

I still have questions.

Hit up our ask! No question is too silly.

[katyawriteswhump]

(i'm still) watching you—harringrove microfic

my first attempt at harringrove and probably totally weird like my usual shit, so… yeah, nervous. but I love prompts/challenges too much to resist… Pls be kind 🙂 

WC: 914. For @harringrovemicrofic prompt, green (I also got a passing mention of Jason Carver in for the additional prompt.)

CW: None. Tags: angst, pining, chronic illness (Fibro/Chronic fatigue), enemies to lovers, h/c, no Upside Down AU, slightly soft Billy? Rating: M.

…

Steve hated sitting in the stands watching the Tigers win without him.

Hargrove rained all over the hoop, right until the full-time whistle ripped through Steve’s skull. Simultaneously, Billy ripped his vest off—shouting, thudding his chest, scanning the crowd.

His crazily soft-blue eyes rested on Steve. That smug grin faltered, and Steve’s heart gave a crazy little squeeze.

Billy’s attention snapped away. His teammates carried him on a lap of victory, and Steve shaded his eyes. Too fucking much. Since he’d got sick, the doctors had droned on about Steve having to pace himself. Today, that’d been a bust—all for the torture of watching Hargrove play.

Even though Steve hated him.

And he’d chew on that image of shirtless Billy for goddamn weeks.

“Stop bawling, Harrington.” Steve startled, squinted into the suddenly too-bright light. Tommy H waggled a stuffed tiger in front of his nose: “You can be team mascot. This one’s got even less backbone than you.”

“Jesus, I’m gonna punch your stupid face in!”

Steve pushed himself up. Despite his dumb threat, it took all his strength to stumble away. Halfway to the exit, he collapsed onto a seat, slumping forward with his head in his hands. The crowd stomped by, sending shockwaves through his aching bones. Nobody offered to help. Probably figured he’d bite their heads off…

A hand landed on his shoulder. “You okay?” asked Billy.

WTF? Steve flinched away. Up close, he couldn’t handle those stupidly long lashes and gorgeous eyes. “M’fine.”

“Want a ride?”

“You leaving already?” Steve gawked at Billy’s pecs. “Guess there’s only so much showboating even your fat ego can take.”

Billy arched his brow. “I’m sick of this shit. Your ex-teammates are fucking losers, you know that?”

Uh… Yeah?

“Whatever, dude. I’m leaving with Nance.” Steve had just spotted her with freshman golden-boy, Jason Carver, scribbling madly in her notebook.

“She’s writing an essay on that asshole. Couldn’t bag me. Seriously, I need space. Figured you might too.”

Space with me? “Jesus, you still never stop talking! You hate me. What’s your game?”

Billy shrugged. “I don’t hate you, man. It genuinely sucks you had to be benched. Don’t have to believe me, but I actually miss you.”

Miss humiliating me? Miss me rubbing my ass against you while you shoved me around!?! Guess I enjoyed touching you as much as I hated you. I mean, uh, I STILL hate you…

“I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Hargrove.”

“Not offering fucking sympathy.”

Steve’s heart repeated that crazy squeeze. He’d grabbed the hem of Billy’s green shorts before he knew it.

Don’t leave. I honestly can’t get up without help right now. Won’t ask for help, either.

Billy harrumphed vaguely, casually offered a hand. Steve clasped it—since when did he dig slippery palms?—let Billy draw him up and sling an arm around him. Even with Billy’s help, the effort of walking consumed Steve completely till he sank into the Camaro.

Billy winked at him from the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry, I’ll go gentle.”

“Jesus, I’m not gonna break.”

“You wanna go home?”

Yeah, I totally should. “No fucking way. Anywhere but this dump.”  

With minimal wheelspin, Billy tore from the school grounds. He didn’t play loud music. They didn’t talk much either. Seemed Billy did occasionally shut up. Only Steve fizzing nerves—WTF AM I DOING?—kept him awake until Billy slammed to a halt.

Steve blinked. “Where are we?”

“One of the few places in this shithole that’s not a shithole.” Billy hurried around and helped Steve from the car.

“I’m not a fucking princess,” Steve bitched.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

“Screw you.” Steve’s glare melted into a laugh that he almost felt.

They’d arrived somewhere in the hills, which smelled of spring grasses. Steve slipped from Billy’s warm grasp—not without a dumbass pang—lay flat on the soft turf. Beyond the trickle of a stream, it was so quiet, he dozed almost instantly.

Then, through the blur of his lashes, he spotted Billy stripping his shorts. Christ, that ass!

Billy headed for the stream. His smirk was as mind-blowing as his body. “I skipped showers.”

“Fucking show-boater.” Steve snickered.

He watched Billy wade thigh deep, splash sparkling droplets over that lick-able, lithely muscled torso. He wished he could watch this a billion times over, ached to join Billy, then his eyelids grew too heavy, his fatigue winning, and… Shit!

Deep inside, something snapped. He slung an arm across his face and cried, drifted, then cried again, shamelessly sniffling. A brush against his arm stirred him. Billy lay stretched beside him, towel around his waist, chin rested on a fist.

“Tears are cathartic, huh?”

Steve rolled to full-on sneer at Billy. Ended up fixed on Billy’s lush mouth, fretting his own lower lip. “Quit mocking me.”

“I’m not. Tears help. Apart from when they’re too damn painful. You don’t have to say which those are.”

Billy reached out, as if to push hair from Steve’s damp eyes, then hesitated. Steve grabbed Billy’s fingers, like he’d grabbed for his shorts. He barely breathed. He clasped Billy’s stream-chilled knuckles to his own burning face, like his life depended on it.

“Meant what I said about missing you,” murmured Billy, as Steve drowned in those adoring eyes. “None of those dicks are half-decent rivals. It sucks we never got a chance to work through that tension and…"

This is a dream, right?

Billy’s fingers slid up through Steve’s hair, gently drawing him closer, and they tumbled into a kiss.

[lorifragolina]

(Healing the) Damage Inc.

This is the second fic for the @harringrovemicrofic March prompt: Birthday.

It's a little thing, but I hope I could find my inspiration again!

Rating: G No TW WC: 403 Also in Ao3

Steve woke up and turned to Billy, and sighted. He knew what day it was, and he felt a funny twist in his heart, near his boyfriend curled up in the blankets.

Billy turned 19 that day, and Steve was experimenting with weird emotions. He almost turned 20, he wasn't really older, but he felt Billy was so young and needy. They lived together since July, and he had often seen his vulnerability. He sometimes seemed so tiny and little when he sat at the window in the sunset, smoking alone and questioning himself.

Steve loved him madly, and tried to make him feel wanted and sure, although it was difficult because Billy still didn’t think he deserved it. 

His first instinct was to cuddle him warmly, but he left the bed instead, closing the door as he did when Billy rested and he went to work. They didn’t talk about his birthday, so Steve wasn’t sure if Billy was expecting anything, but Steve took the day off secretly to give him a surprise.

He returned to the bedroom after a while with his coffee.

“Ehi, honey,” he gently shook Billy, who opened an eye, annoyed.

“Mmm? Aren’t you at work?”

Steve shrugged. “No, I took the day off”.

He saw a little expectation in Billy’s eyes.

“Why?” 

Steve shrugged again. “Oh, errands. I need to go places…”

Billy nodded, deflating a little, disappointed. “Ok”.

Steve felt heartbroken for that little lie, but it was worth it.

He stopped at the door, breathless. 

Steve giggled behind him.

Lots of pink balloons, a colorful sign saying “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE” and his favorite chocolate cake with 19 candles, Billy counted them, all things Steve hid in the trunk the night before.

“Happy birthday, honey”, Steve hugged him.

“How did you know?”

”I knew”, Steve shrugged. 

There was a little package there.

“Is it for me?”

“Of course. Open it”.

Billy opened the paper carefully. The last Metallica’s album, Master of Puppet, was in there, Billy wanted it since it was released, less than a month before.

He opened the tape. 

He gasped saying the little sheets inside.

”Damage, Inc. Tour. San Francisco 17 june 1986” he read.

Billy lowered his head to hide the tears.

“It’s… for real?” He whispered.

Steve laughed. “Of course”.

“I…I… thanks”, he rushed into Steve’s arms. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing him.

“I love you too, babe. Happy birthday”.

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐞

steve harrington/billy hargrove for @harringrovemicrofic's february prompt: explode, 772 words. ft. ptsd, mentions of suicide but nobody actually commits suicide, hurt/comfort | T rating read on ao3

he thumps his fists against one of the rickety stalls, blood smearing. billy crosses the room and has his arms around him in an instant, squeezing him until steve has no option but to go limp in his arms with a sob. or, steve’s explosion was a disaster waiting to happen, and billy’s there to pull him out of the wreckage.

[ihni]

For @harringrovemicrofic, March prompt: "Billy's birthday" (wordcount: 403)

~~~

Billy wakes up alone.

The spot on the mattress next to him is cold, so Steve must have left a while ago. Judging by the sounds coming from downstairs, though, he didn’t go far.

There are sounds of someone puttering about in the kitchen; the clinking of plates, the sound of cutlery being placed on the countertop, the refrigerator door opening and closing. All to a backdrop of tinny pop music on low from the radio they keep on the sill in the kitchen window.

Billy, used to early morning after all the years under his father’s roof, is usually up before his boyfriend, who likes to sleep in. So it is not often that Steve wakes up before Billy, these days. But it happens, on special occasions.

Special occasions like today.

When Billy hears footsteps in the little hallway leading to the bedroom, he stretches out in the bed and rolls over onto his stomach, smiling into his pillow.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you …”

Steve has a good voice for singing, but he’s usually too self-conscious to sing outside of the shower. Which is a shame, because Billy loves listening to him.

“… happy birthday dear Billy …”

The door to the bedroom is nudged open, and Steve appears in the doorway, holding a tray full of various items. His hair is sleep-mussed, and while he has pulled on a pair of sweatpants, he is still wearing his sleep-shirt.

He is the most beautiful thing Billy has ever seen.

“… happy birthday to you!”

Billy rolls onto his side and backs up a bit so Steve can put the tray down on the bed next to him, utterly incapable of keeping his smile off his face as Steve leans over to place a kiss on Billy’s nose.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

His face warming, Billy turns to inspect the plentiful breakfast in front of him. There is coffee and chocolate chip pancakes, fruit salad and an omelet, raspberry crumble pie and a glass of orange juice. There’s even a scoop of butter pecan ice cream in a bowl.

“You spoil me,” Billy half-protests, still smiling.

“You deserve it,” Steve says and steals a grape from the fruit salad. “And you only turn twenty-one once."

“I’m gonna get fat.”

“If you do, I’ll still love you.”

Billy’s smile is so wide that it almost hurts. “Sap.”

“Always for you, baby.”