Ihni Andern

Legal adult since many years. Aro. Ace. Also, important note: I AM TERRIBLE WITH NAMES. If you've changed your url, I will not recognize you. These are just the facts. I'm sorry. I tend to follow talented people, and reblog their stuff. (Also, sometimes I post things that I do. Or write. Or, you know, draw.) New favourite way to spend money: commission talented people whose work I love to draw or write things that I want to see. (Because it generates more fanworks, which is a good thing, and I support people that I am in awe of, which is ALSO a good thing.)

Last update
2022-06-26 04:32:28

    counted out, left for dead

    [welcome to the pacrim harringrove au!

    title from bury me face down by grandson]

    Bruised knuckles crash through a pale jaw. The girl - she can’t be older than sixteen, seventeen at the most - goes crashing into the mats. Her opponent, a guy with more muscle than mercy and curly golden hair that looks like sunlight haloing his head, circles her and whistles mockingly before jeering, “c’mon, Maxine! Get your shit together!”

    The girl is visibly fuming. When she tries to swipe at the guy’s ankles with a weak hand, he sidesteps it with ease and lands a swift kick to her ribs.

    Oof,” Robin mutters.

    “Yeah,” Steve agrees, frowning. “He’s kinda wiping the floor with her, man. Should we like. I dunno. Do something?”

    “Nah,” snorts Tommy Hagan. He’s leaning against on the rusty metal railing nearby, chewing loudly on an apple. “Watch this shit.”

    “Maxine, Maxine,” the guy crows, “don’t you remember what I fuckin’ taught you? Plant your goddamn feet, shitbird! Draw a charge! Don’t think with your head, move with your gut.”

    He paces nonchalantly back and forth, reminding Steve of a lion on two legs. The girl - Maxine, he supposes - rolls up to her feet again and faces down her much bigger opponent with a tense jaw and spite gleaming in her bright blue eyes. The guy grins like a maniac. 

    There’s my girl,” he says.

    steve doesn’t really get what hargrove’s deal is.

    he’s just, like, waiting for him in his car after school, doing absolutely nothing wrong at all, when hargrove wrenches the door open. almost pulls it off its hinges, fuming like he picked a fight with the world and got knocked down before the first round was over.

    and to think that steve went as far as throwing a foreigner tape in the player, because it’s the only music he owns that hargrove barely tolerates. barely.

    point is, steve’s done nothing wrong, but hargrove still growls at him, the second his back hits the seat, ‘we need to talk.’

    ‘oh. right,’ steve says, because he knows exactly what we need to talk means. he’s already calculating all the detours he’ll have to take from now on to avoid every memory-stained spot.

    it’s a bummer. hawkins isn’t nearly big enough for a heartbreak.

    nothing happens for a bit. hargrove’s silent next to him, eyes fixed straight ahead like he’s hoping for some divine intervention to get him out of this particular pickle. it’s almost funny, how uncomfortable he looks. deserves it, though. that’ll teach him to go around breaking people’s hearts.

    eventually, he barks, ‘not fuckinhere, obviously,’ and then adds, softer and a beat too late, ‘just. drive, will you?’ and spends the rest of the drive gripping the edge of his seat.

    it’s a shame. steve really loves that tape. too bad he’ll never listen to foreigner again.

    the second steve pulls up by the lake he’ll spend the rest of his life avoiding, hargrove fishes his pack out of his pocket. he plucks a cigarette out, but his hands are shaking so much it gets sucked into the black hole under the seat. maybe steve will find it, months later, and store it away as a keepsake of the day billy hargrove broke his heart.

    ‘jesus christ,’ hargrove mutters, fingers drumming a wild rhythm on his knees. ‘let’s make something clear. im being real nice, telling you this. i don’t have to.’

    the alternative would be to get cold-shouldered without a heads-up, presumably. honestly, hargrove’s being very honorable, breaking up with him face to face. steve should be grateful.

    plenty of time for that. he can be grateful after tearing the shirt hargrove left at his place a month ago to ribbons.

    hargrove, who mumbles something, and rolls his eyes when steve frowns at him. then. then, he says, quietly, ‘okay, fuck. okay. i’m gonna be in love with you. real soon.’

    the screeching sounds must be in steve’s head, because the engine’s off. can’t have a crash if the car’s not moving, right?

    blinking at hargrove, who’s currently chewing his thumbnail and avoiding steve’s eyes, steve says, ‘come again?’

    hargrove scoffs. ‘absolutely not. god, why did i think you’d be even remotely cool about this?’

    steve would genuinely like to know, since, historically, he’s never been cool about anything, ever. ‘you—what,’ he says instead, ‘what the fuck, billy. who announces they will be in love with someone? nobody does that.’

    ‘i do,’ hargrove snaps back, defensive in a way he has no right to be. ‘and it’s a warning.’

    things are moving at breakneck speed, and, honestly, steve just needs everything to stop for a second, so he can start catching up. ‘a warning,’ he repeats, ‘what for?’

    ‘so you can get out,’ hargrove mutters, shrugging, and suddenly. steve knows exactly what’s going on.

    ‘before it’s too late, you mean. before you. before you fall in love with me.’

    hargrove shrugs again, staring at the lake ahead. ‘’s only fair.’

    ‘right,’ steve says, nodding even though hargrove still won’t look at him. ‘in this scenario, do i dump you before or after telling you i’ve been in love with you for a month?’

    at that, hargrove whips his head up. finally. ‘what the fuck, harrington. why didn’t you say anything?’

    ‘uh. you just kidnapped me to tell me you’re not in love with me yet.’

    ‘means i will be.’

    it’s infuriating, actually, that he’s got a point. steve rolls his eyes, and then shuts hargrove up with his mouth, objectively the most effective way to keep him from doing something stupid. when hargrove whimpers at the back of his throat, steve swallows it. all in all, it’s a good kiss. a really good kiss.

    ‘how long will it take, do you think?’ steve asks, when hargrove lets him pull back. they’re both skirting breathlessness, and smiling like idiots about it. ‘like, how soon are we talking here?’

    hargrove blushes up to his ears. ‘shut up, okay?’ he says, and then, ‘soon, like, a couple of months ago.’


    people asking “why is there hair there?” about other people’s bodies is insane to me like. it GROWS there you fucking idiot. why else. move on


    “but stomach hair isn’t common” in what fucking universe. in what world.

    “Then I shall come here.”, he whispered.

    “You would quit the Abbey?”


    “Sacrifice your independence?”


    “Live constantly with my father and no house of your own?”


    Harringrove week day 1

    AU: Regency Era

    I went with my favorite scene in the 2020 adaptation of Emma. Here is the scene, it's very sweet.

    I'm no writer but I think a harringrove version of Emma would be perfect 😭

    Harringrove week fic 1!

    Hello all here is part one for my first of two fic for harringrove week. Please enjoy and happy harringrove week!

    The full fic or archive of our own 

    The Hanky Panky Code

    Steve was up on a ladder moving around some Video tapes of old black and white films when the bell on the door rang. Steve turned precariously on the ladder to see who had entered the store.

    Billy fucking Hargrove.

    Okay harsh, they had actually been getting along recently. Billy had almost died at the mall protecting El and even thanked Steve for trying to keep his sister safe then, and for the year before when Billy was out of the loop. It was still strained between them, but when Billy dropped Max off to hang out with the other kids he always made polite conversation with Steve. Albeit after snarking about Steve being their babysitter.

    Steve was about to step down when Robin waved him off.

    “Stay up there Steve, I got this. Keep stacking old man Marley’s Monroe obsession.”

    Steve nodded, making brief eye contact with Billy who gave an obscene wink, a grin stretching across his lips. Still, Billy fucking Hargrove it seems. Who the hell winks at people? Who the hell wears a crop top and tight jeans to pick up a damn video? Steve tries to ignore him whilst he finishes stacking videos, but he can feel Billy’s stare. Steve turns, ready to say something about staring but he can’t place Billy’s expression. He seems almost shocked. Billy’s mouth curves slightly, maybe it’s amusement? Excitement? Steve isn’t sure. Billy isn’t even looking him in the eye.

    Instead, his eyes are fixed at his, well, at his ass.

    Steve feels his cheeks heat and he turns back around. What the fuck, he silently mouths to himself as he descends the ladder. He keeps his back turned, and squats to rearrange some musicals.

    By the time he’s done, Billy has moved to the cash register. He’s leaning on the bench, and Steve takes a moment to return the favour. Damn, and he thought he was being obnoxious with the tightness of his jeans, but Billy’s are something else. It’s almost like he’s got it down to a science. Steve wonders for a moment if the jeans are even too tight, are they flattening Billy’s ass?

    “Please, don’t stare at my brother’s ass. I don’t need to see that,” Max said, snapping Steve out of his thoughts. “What I wasn’t…” Steve stumbled.

    “Shut it. You were, I don’t care what you are, and I don’t want to talk about it. Hand me Grease.” His eyebrows crease, but he hands her the musical, watching as she walks up to Billy.

    “Took you long enough. God, Grease again? If I have to hear that down under girl sing about a summer fuck she can’t get over one more time I might pull my ears off.” “Why? What did you pick? Dune again? It’s like three hours long!”

    “Yup and you still haven’t watched it with me. We’re meant to be bonding bitch, this is three hours of bonding time.”

    Billy bends down to Max’s eye level smiling in her face. If Steve didn’t know them so well, he’d think they were fighting. But after spending so much time with them, he’s come to realise it’s their way of showing affection.

    Steve makes his way over, stopping just behind the pair.

    “It is a fun movie Max. Kind of nerdy though, surprised you like it Billy.” He gives a questioning look towards Billy and then turns to Max. “You like those comic books don’t you Max? Paul is totally like a superhero.”

    Billy grinned as he pushed up off the counter, stretching to his full height.

    “What can I say Harrington, I like Kyle Mc Lauchlan.” He shrugged, still grinning. Max squinted at them, and then defeatedly pulled the movie from Billy’s hands, placing it on the counter along with Grease. Robin, who had been watching the three of them debate over movies, finally began to ring them up.

    “Fine, one musical and one adventure movie for the broody siblings coming right up,” Robin said, smiling in her way that always seems more insult than friendly. Steve watched the siblings leave. Once the door chimed behind them, he looked to Robin. “Okay, I think I am going insane but did Billy like… I could have sworn he was checking me out?”

    Robin snorted. “No, I mean it! He looked right at my ass, Robin. And he had this weird look on his face, like he was amused. Wait, did I sit on an M&M again?”

    Robin laughed at him as he tries to look at his own ass over his shoulder. She shakes her head at him still laughing. “What? I just bought these light wash jeans. Do you know how hard it is to get chocolate out of denim? Do you Robin?”

    Through her laughter, Robin managed to answer. “Steve, your ass just announced to Billy Hargrove that you like to get it up the ass.” “What!?” Steve shouted. “Robin, shut up, there is no way you can tell that by looking at my butt alone.”

    Robin continued to laugh at him, especially once she noticed the way his face had flushed. She gave him a shove from over the counter. “Thanks for confirming dingus but I don’t mean he read your ass like palm reading dude. Do you know anything about handkerchiefs?”

    “What do you mean? I like my handkerchief; it makes me look cool.”

    “You know how we had that conversation about you accepting that you sometimes like guys? And how you could signal to that to other people through wearing an earring on your right ear? But you were too scared because you thought it would look stupid?”

    Steve deflated, lowering his tense shoulders unsure of where she was going with this. “Yeah, I remember.” “Steve, your handkerchief is part of a code. Billy walked into the store, took one look at you up on that ladder with your ass and accessory of choice on display. One that says ‘I like to take it up the ass’ and Billy definitely knew the code. The gay hanky code.”

    “There’s a gay hanky code? No one told me about a code, why is there a code? Why is the gay thing so complicated?”

    Robin just laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Could’ve been worse, at least you don’t have a yellow one.”

    “Why, what does yellow mean?”

    “Trust me you don’t want to know.”

    Steve cringed, trusting her. She’d already told him too many things he didn’t want to know. He leaned forward, smashing his head onto the counter.

    “What do I do about Billy?” He asked.

    “Oh my god. You totally like him, don’t you?”

    “Fuck off Robin, at least he doesn’t sing like a Muppet.”

    “Didn’t he beat you up?” She gave him a look.

    “That was like two years ago. He found me alone with four kids, including his sister who wasn’t meant to be there. Besides we’ve established, I seem to like people who treat me like shit.”

    “Mommy issues,” Robin snickered.

    “Shut it Robin, I am dying here.” Steve groaned into the counter.

    “It’ll be fine. If he knows the code then he is one of us, which obvious, I mean the hair, the earing. He will either say nothing or…” Robin trailed off, giving him a smirk.

    “Or what!?” Steve said, lifting his head in question.

    “He might respond.”


    “I don’t know Steve, just keep an eye on his back pockets dude. Shouldn’t be hard now, should it?”

    Steve flushed and kicked his leg out behind him gently kicking Robin in the shin.

    “We go from decoding Russian transmissions to decoding sexy hanky messages.”

    Robin laughed at him again, but he still felt like he was going to die of embarrassment.


    last time steve heard the sound of that engine, billy hargrove was behind the wheel of a burning car.

    well. physically, at least. mentally, not so much.

    ‘you delivering the mail now?’

    hargrove falters mid-step. his army boots make a deafening sound against the stillness of the slumber-silent neighborhood. the whole world’s asleep. everyone, except steve, and.

    billy hargrove, apparently, currently standing on steve’s doorstep, blinking up at him. ‘fuck’re you doing here?’

    steve lets out a laugh, leaning against the doorframe. ‘my house, you mean?’

    ‘it’s barely dawn.’

    ‘yet here we both are.’

    the sun’s not even up yet. everything’s gray-tinted. way too bright for this time of day, and for the two hours of sleep steve managed last night. from the looks of him, hargrove didn’t do any better. the blue circles around his eyes tell a story steve only knows parts of. he knows the story was supposed to end on the floor of a mall.

    he also knows the story kept going, and maybe that’s the most important part.

    ‘everytime i close my eyes—’ hargrove starts, then rubs at them with a hand mapped by scars. it won’t help, but he’s got a right to keep trying. still new to this, after all. steve gave up years ago.

    ‘yeah,’ he agrees, futilely, and then wonders if another fistfight would solve both their problems. knock their brains around enough to make them right again. probably not. might be worth a shot, if hargrove’s up for it.

    his eyes are still shut against the world, though, so steve nods at the wrinkled paper in hargrove’s currently unoccupied hand. ‘that for me?’

    slowly, hargrove lowers his bloodshot eyes to the paper like he’d forgotten all about it, letting out a scoff that steve would call amused if it didn’t sound so deranged.

    ‘you weren’t supposed to be awake,’ hargrove says, taking a step forward. then another, until he’s standing so close steve has a front-row seat to all the shades of blue around hargrove’s eyes, and all the ones inside, too.

    huh, he thinks, maybe we will have that rematch, and watches, transfixed, as hargrove folds the paper and puts it back into his pocket. a saner person than steve would shut the door and go back to sleep.

    what a bore their lives must be.

    ‘doesn’t matter,’ hargrove continues, ‘you hate me anyway, right? i’m just giving you one more reason. just this once.’

    ‘what—’ steve starts, and it’s a good thing he didn’t know where he was going with that, because he’s intercepted by hargrove’s palm on the side of his neck, and hargrove’s lips on his.

    the sun’s not even up yet. hargrove’s lips are really, really soft. a bit on the dry side. very soft, nonetheless.

    before steve’s brain has a chance to come back online and start processing one thing at a time, hargrove’s already pulling back with a breathless bye, harrington whispered between them. already walking away, fumbling with his car keys.

    his synapses are still recalibrating, but steve’s legs move on instinct. he stops hargrove with a hand on his arm, keeping him from unlocking the car. ‘you’re leaving?’

    hargrove heaves a resigned sigh. ‘yeah,’ he says, facing steve, ‘going home. just punch me and get it over with.’

    ‘cool, yeah, how about we just talk about—’ steve trails off, because somehow he missed it. the backseat’s almost hidden under all the boxes. ‘oh. oh, right. when—when’re you coming back?’

    hargrove frowns at him, every line on his face a goodbye. leaving a place is only sad if you’re leaving something behind. ‘steve,’ he says, ‘im going home.’

    it’ll take some getting used to, being what’s left behind. steve’s lips are still kiss-warm. that’ll go away, too.

    ‘i know,’ steve says, and leans in, presses his lips to the corner of hargrove’s mouth, so that the warmth can last a little longer. ‘when are you coming back?’



    after-school detention. Steve is just trying to enjoy his coffee when a certain someone (who got him into detention in the first place) comes waltzing over to keep him company (bully him, aka flirt COUGHS)

    I will likely colour this in the future but for now, have a 'sketch' of these two! <3

    happy harringrove week everyone! let's have some fun before volume 2 drops (I'm still wearing my clown outfit)